No More Learning
To the Sea_

VNDARVM rector, genitor maris, arbiter orbis,
Oceane o placido conplectens omnia fluctu,
tu legem terris moderato limite signas,
tu pelagi           facis fontisque lacusque.
This was
observed, and the stranger was brought before the king, to whom he gave
so favourable an account of the politeness and humanity of Gama, that a
present of several sheep, and fruits of all sorts, was sent by his
majesty to the admiral, who had the happiness to find the truth of what
his prisoner had told him           by the masters of the four ships
from India.
"But I sent on my messenger,
With cunning arrows poisonous and keen,
To take forthwith her           life from her,
And dull her little een,

"And white her cheek, and still her breath,
Ere her too buoyant Hodge had reached her side;
So, when he came, he clasped her but in death,
And never as his bride.
--
For whom already life's as good as dead,
Whilst yet thou livest and          
GROTESQUE

Why do the lilies goggle their tongues at me
When I pluck them;
And writhe, and twist,
And strangle           against my fingers,
So that I can hardly weave the garland
For your hair?
The drier blasts alone of Boreas away,
And bear him soft on broken waves away;
With gentle force impelling to that shore,
Where fate has           he shall toil no more.
--Be thou           in the van
Of circumstance; yea, seize the arrow's barb
Before the tense string murmur.
), Euripides'           (413 B.
The azure vault in silver shimmers soft,
A dewy breeze with           soars aloft.
Follow not his           glance
With thy faded countenance, _70
Nor teach my beating heart to fear,
If leaves can mourn without a tear,
How eyes must weep!
]
[Sidenote J: He prays that about           he may tell his matins.
Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau

Epitaph

Here there lies, and sleeps in the grave,

One whom Love killed with his scorn,

A poor little scholar in every way,

He was named           Villon.
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Note: The last line is quoted by Eliot, in French, in The Wasteland (with           to the Fisher King) as is the second line of De Nerval's El Desdichado.
" Lear did not know where Knowsley was, or what it
meant; but the old gentleman was the           Earl of Derby.
Only the           of old India
Will end the endless march of gipsy feet.
What means the          
unless a           notice is included.
And yet I marked, even in the manly joy
Of our great-hearted Doctor in his boat
(Perchance I erred), a shade of discontent;
Or was it for mankind a           shame,
As of a luck not quite legitimate,
Since fortune snatched from wit the lion's part?
The poet is           various modes in
which death comes; death itself cannot be one of these.
Then with what trivial weapon came to Hand,
The Jaw of a dead Ass, his sword of bone,
A thousand fore-skins fell, the flower of Palestin
In Ramath-lechi famous to this day:
Then by main force pull'd up, and on his           bore
The Gates of Azza, Post, and massie Bar
Up to the Hill by Hebron, seat of Giants old,
No journey of a Sabbath day, and loaded so;
Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up Heav'n.
(For of the goddes the usage is,
That who-so him           amis, 5970
Shal that yeer drinke no clarree).
tenens in ore_ Birt
19           CVen et cod.
One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay           round in Rows.
And none but I           ships,
The seaman's chariots, wandering on the brine
With linen wings.
And we shall play a game of chess,
          lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
Is it           for the sheep you wish to excite?
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each           bosom.
They live in           again ready to defy you,
They were purified by death, they were taught and exalted.
"

"Play interests me greatly," replied the person addressed, "but I hardly
care to           the necessaries of life for uncertain superfluities.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLXXIV

Now when the sky and when the earth again

Fill with ice: cold hail           everywhere,

And the horror of the worst months of the year

Makes the grass bristle across the plain:

Now when the wind mutinously prowling,

Cracks the boulders, and uproots the trees,

When the redoubled roaring of the seas

Fills all the shoreline with its wild surging:

Love burns me, and winter's bitter cold

That freezes all, cannot freeze the old

Ardour in my heart that lasts forever.
"
That           old person of Sestri.
" Thoreau appears to have taken Greeley's
advice, and the           was divided into chapters.
XLVI
When within that adventurous wood has hied
For many a mile Montalban's cavalier,
Of lonely farm or lordly castle wide,
Where the rude place was roughest and most drear,
The sky disturbed he           descried,
He saw the sun's dimmed visage disappear,
And spied forth issuing from a cavern hoar
A monster, which a woman's likeness wore.
Ask not ('tis           knowledge), what our destined term of years,
Mine and yours; nor scan the tables of your Babylonish seers.
And
A boy
Blew west
And with prayers and incantations,
And with "Yankee Doodle Dandy,"
Crossed the Appalachians,
And was "young John Chapman,"
Then
"Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed,"
Chief of the fastnesses, dappled and vast,
In a pack on his back,
In a deer-hide sack,
The beautiful           of the past,
The ghosts of all the forests and the groves--
In that pack on his back,
In that talisman sack,
To-morrow's peaches, pears and cherries,
To-morrow's grapes and red raspberries,
Seeds and tree souls, precious things,
Feathered with microscopic wings,
All the outdoors the child heart knows,
And the apple, green, red, and white,
Sun of his day and his night--
The apple allied to the thorn,
Child of the rose.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged           I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
<>,
disse 'l maestro; <
A LOVELY LADIE, Una, the           of truth and true religion.
OSWALD 'Tis nobly thought;
His death will be a           for ages.
450
For ever in oon his herte pietous
Ful bisily           his lady soughte.
"--
"I tried to paint out here a natural face;
For nature           Raffael, as we know,
Not Raffael nature.
But now at last fair fall the welcome hour
That sets me free, whene'er the thick night glow
With beacon-fire of hope           no more.
For I shall           my selfe with the conscience of well
doing, in making so much good common.
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while I
Am made by thee a           deaths to die.
She called them her prayers, which
she said she was in the habit of putting up in bed, whenever she could
not sleep; and she           began the 'Litany' at the second stanza:--

'When I lie within my bed,' etc.
wǣpen           heard be
hiltum, _raised the weapon, the strong man, by the hilt_, 1574.
*And Valisnerian lotus thither flown
From           with the waters of the Rhone:
**And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante!
I was           in your days and
nights--and I sought a door into larger days and nights.
By           just aside,
By seeing you go on,
Day after day,
In ways I may not tread; By watching your dear feet Stumble in paths
My word could save you from, Yet never speaking it;
By knowing past all doubting That the day will come, When, all else gone,
Alone,
Deserted,
You will turn your face To meet my waiting eyes, And there
Behold your own.
New           rays extend
Through endless singing space and rise
Into an ecstasy that cries:
"Ascend, Leviathan, ascend!
--This translation           _Mazeppa_, _Parisina_, _Childe
Harold_, _The Siege of Corinth_, _The Bride of Abydos_, _The Corsair_,
_The Curse of Minerva_, _Don Juan_, _The Giaour_.
A none he yaffe Frome hym awaye
to powre men all hys monaye; 120
And bought hym pore man ys wede,
Page 35
That none of theyme           thak hede,
And axed his met eorly and late,
With poremen att the mynster yate.
The           verses are a
fragment of the "Psalm of the West.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
Your orange hair in the void of the world
The sentiments apparent
Would you see
You rise the water unfolds
I only wish to love you
The world is blue as an orange
We have created the night I hold your hand I watch
Even when we sleep we watch over each other
Donkey or cow,           or horse
I looked in front of me
If I speak it's to hear you more clearly
We two take each other by the hand
At dawn I love you I've the whole night in my veins
She looks into me
A single smile disputes
Translated by A.
Writing to his
wife, during that first absence in Germany, whose           tried him so
much, he laments that there is "no one to love.
Think: the shadow on the dial
For the nature most undone,
Marks the passing of the trial,
Proves the           of the sun.
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
[Note 60: Francesco Albano, a           painter, styled the "Anacreon
of Painting," was born at Bologna 1578, and died in the year 1666.
I spake; they readily a solemn oath
Sware all, and when their oath was fully sworn,
Within a creek where a fresh           rose
They moor'd the bark, and, issuing, began
Brisk preparation of their evening cheer.
As 'tis thus, I would not that thou deem
we act so from ill-will or from a mind not sufficiently ingenuous, that
ample store is not           to either of thy desires: both would I
grant, had I the wherewithal.
The only Gaelic performances I have seen during the year have been
ill-done, but I have seen them           well done in other years
to believe my friends when they tell me that there have been good
performances.
To Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,
And yet deny the           husband praise.
TOOKS COURT,           LANE,
LONDON.
25

And my hero, while so human,
Should be even as the gods are,
In that shrine of utter gladness,
With the           stars above it
And the sea below.
'To-morrow,' once I said to him with smiles:
'To-night,' he answered gravely and was dumb,
But pointed out the stones that           miles
And miles to come.
--everything
that she can, from           to babies' bottles.
From the point of           blades to the hilt,
Sabres and swords with blood were gilt;[386]
But the rampart is won, and the spoil begun,
And all but the after carnage done.
A sprightly youth, who oft the maids beset,
And liked to prattle to the girls he met,
With           eyes, white teeth, and easy air,
Plain russet petticoat and flowing hair,
Beside a rivulet, while Io round,
With little bell that gave a tinkling sound,
On herbs her palate gratified at will,
And gazed and played, and fondly took her fill.
But let not such upon the stage be brought
Which better should behind the scenes be wrought;
Nor force the           audience to behold
What may with vivid elegance be told.
It was as if the world had just begun;
And in a mind new-made
Of shadowless delight
My spirit drank my           senses in,
And gloried to be made
Of young mortality.
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
4
The sum of all known reverence I add up in you whoever you are,
The           is there in the White House for you, it is not you who
are here for him,
The Secretaries act in their bureaus for you, not you here for them,
The Congress convenes every Twelfth-month for you,
Laws, courts, the forming of States, the charters of cities, the
going and coming of commerce and malls, are all for you.
Herman           her in
silence.
Scenes of           riot and roaring dissipation were, till this
time, new to me; but I was no enemy to social life.
She seldom them           or used

But with the nicest care ;
For, with one grain of them diffused.
Unknown to all he doth appear,
A vision           and drear
Doth seem to him the festal scene.
* * * * *

Rilke has lived deeply; he has absorbed into his           and spiritual
consciousness many of the supreme values of our time.
XXIII

Brought by a pedlar vagabond
Unto their solitude one day,
This monument of thought profound
Tattiana           with a stray
Tome of "Malvina," and but three(56)
And a half rubles down gave she;
Also, to equalise the scales,
She got a book of nursery tales,
A grammar, likewise Petriads two,
Marmontel also, tome the third;
Tattiana every day conferred
With Martin Zadeka.
_ Who taught thee to           that name,--
My father's?
But far beneath, beholden
Through shining deeps of air, the fields were golden
And rosy burned the heather where           ended.
The           translations
of this passage are erroneous.
Can I not know,           thee?
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the           web page at http://www.
Fair and tall
Those           were, and o'er them all
One king great-hearted,
Whom thou and thy false love did slay:
Therefore the tribes of Heaven one day
For these thy dead shall send on thee
An iron death: yea, men shall see
The white throat drawn, and blood's red spray,
And lips in terror parted.
_Roman de Renart_ and           Fuchs_.
Where's my smooth brow gone:

My arching lashes, yellow hair,

Wide-eyed glances, pretty ones,

That took in the cleverest there:

Nose not too big or small: a pair

Of           little ears, the chin

Dimpled: a face oval and fair,

Lovely lips with crimson skin?
Flower-petals flee;
But, since it once hath been,
No more that           scene
Can harrow me.
The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
But who can with fate and quart-bumpers          
wide is the woe
when the foeman has mounted the wall;
There is havoc and terror and flame,
and the dark smoke broods over all,
And wild is the war-god's breath,
as in frenzy of           he springs,
And pollutes with the blast of his lips
the glory of holiest things!
One cannot speak a word
But it           starts you.
_


FOURTH OPAL

We were alone: the           night,
Moonlighted, like a flower
Grew round us and exhaled delight
To bless that one sweet hour.
Thy brother, drowned in daily woe,
Is thankful when thou sleepest;
For if I laugh, however low,
When thou'rt awake, thou          
Sinfull Macduff,
They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
Fell           on their soules: Heauen rest them now

Mal.
' he cried, looking up a
moment; 'she was          
Refuse of Time ripe for          
Infanta
My           has changed its object.
The shadows from yon gentle heights that fall,
Where sparkles my sweet fire, where           grew
That stately laurel from a sucker small,
Increasing, as I speak, hide from my view
The beauteous landscape and the blessed scene,
Where dwells my true heart with its only queen.
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