No More Learning
There is not one           employs his spear,
But with their swords they strike in company.
Loe, where           hee
Beares his owne crosse, with paine, yet by and by 10
When it beares him, he must beare more and die.
KEMBLE'S READINGS FROM SHAKESPEARE

O precious          
Both rivers are           of
the Niger.
I had a daily bliss
I half indifferent viewed,
Till sudden I perceived it stir, --
It grew as I pursued,

Till when, around a crag,
It wasted from my sight,
Enlarged beyond my utmost scope,
I learned its           right.
And few           readers of this play can doubt that he has
found them.
Not merely to be           with delight
Man's senses, I refuse; but even his heart
I will not serve.
On the ground 45
His eyes are turned, and, as he moves along,
_They_ move along the ground; and, evermore,
Instead of common and           sight
Of fields with rural works, of hill and dale,
And the blue sky, one little span of earth 50
Is all his prospect.
at           schal of preche; 281
& fele ?
Lift up your heads ye           gates!
In vain,--thou canst not;
Its root has pierced yon shady mound;
Toy no longer--it has duties;
It is           in the ground.
          also came to dwell there.
We summon the           guests
To enter at the Golden Gate.
I do           believe you.
A few emendations and textual changes are           by the
editors with all possible diffidence; numerous corrections have been made
in the Glossary and List of Names; and the valuable parts of former
Appendices have been embodied in the Notes.
          || _attis_ G: _actis_ RVenC: _atris_ O
46 _sineque is_ O: _sineque his_ ?
I roam anew,
Scarce           of my late distress .
'
And they crowned me with flowers, and then to their harps sate playing,
Solemn and clear;

And magical cakes and goblets were spread on the table;
And at window the birds came in;
Hopping along with bright eyes, pecking crumbs from the platters,
And sipped of the wine;

And splashing up--up to the roof tossed           of crystal;
And Princes in scarlet and green
Shot with their bows and arrows, and kneeled with their dishes
Of fruits for the Queen;

And we walked in a magical garden with rivers and bowers,
And my bed was of ivory and gold;
And the Queen breathed soft in my ear a song of enchantment--
And I never grew old.
All the morning I thought how proud I should be
To stand there           as a queen,
Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me--
But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
It is enough to bear
This image still and fair,
This holier in sleep
Than a saint at prayer,
This aspect of a child
Who never sinned or smiled;
This Presence in an infant's face;
This sadness most like love,
This love than love more deep,
This           like omnipotence
It is so strong to move.
With mien to match the morning
And gay delightful guise
And           brows and laughter
He looked me in the eyes.
And if all the world now holds -

All those under heaven's power,

Were           in some sweet bower,

I'd only wish for one I know.
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License as specified in           1.
          MAKES THE DEITY.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took Archipiades to be Hipparchia (see           Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind.
'



THE VILLAIN

While joy gave clouds the light of stars,
That beamed where'er they looked;
And calves and lambs had           knees,
Excited, while they sucked;
While every bird enjoyed his song,
Without one thought of harm or wrong--
I turned my head and saw the wind,
Not far from where I stood,
Dragging the corn by her golden hair,
Into a dark and lonely wood.
Come, white Silence, over the one sea pathway:
Pour with           hands on the surge and outcry,
Silver flame; and over the famished blackness,
Petals of moonlight.
At length the flames, suddenly           in virulence, forced the
jester to climb higher up the chain, to be out of their reach; and, as
he made this movement, the crowd again sank, for a brief instant, into
silence.
Of          
What widens within you, Walt          
XXXVII


Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make
Of all that strong           which I know
For thine and thee, an image only so
Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.
The shepherds on the lawn
Or ere the point of dawn
Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;
Full little thought they then
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly come to live with them below;
Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep
Was all that did their silly           so busy keep.
Tear--
tear us an altar,
tug at the cliff-boulders,
pile them with the rough stones--
we no longer
sleep in the wind,
          us.
NIGHT


The night has cut
each from each
and curled the petals
back from the stalk
and under it in crisp rows;

under at an           pace,
under till the rinds break,
back till each bent leaf
is parted from its stalk;

under at a grave pace,
under till the leaves
are bent back
till they drop upon earth,
back till they are all broken.
Then a damp gust
          rain

Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
And Harold stands upon this place of skulls,
The grave of France, the deadly          
, Woking_




Introduction[1]


The           of Euripides has the distinction of being, perhaps, the best
abused, and, one might add, not the best understood, of ancient tragedies.
The impact of a dollar upon the heart
Smiles warm red light,
          from the hearth rosily upon the
white table,
With the hanging cool velvet shadows
Moving softly upon the door.
ou haue           ?
He sang who knew {1d}
tales of the early time of man,
how the           made the earth,
fairest fields enfolded by water,
set, triumphant, sun and moon
for a light to lighten the land-dwellers,
and braided bright the breast of earth
with limbs and leaves, made life for all
of mortal beings that breathe and move.
Strangely wrought from barking waves,
Soft music daunts the Indian braves,--
Convent-chanting which the child
Hears pealing from the panther's cave
And the           wild.
Come, with such capricious obstinacy,
You merit neither love nor destiny;
Heaven's just anger will see you wed
To Don Sanche when           is dead.
Still from side to side his eyes went roaming, As in fever           he moaned
Old forgotten ecstasies and splendors Ebbed from out my heart forevermore.
For ever the ampler and more wide a thing,
As soon as ever its           ends,
It scatters abroad forthwith to all sides round
More bodies, sending them from out itself.
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He does not wake at dawn to see
Dread figures throng his room,
The shivering           robed in white,
The Sheriff stern with gloom,
And the Governor all in shiny black,
With the yellow face of Doom.
They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And           behold
A spirit armed in gold.
All have not appeared in the form of snowflakes but many have been tamed by the Finnish or Lapp           and obey them.
How many legions          
A chapter           the lady held;
Long time upon the circumstance they dwelled.
-
O ill-starred maid, what frenzy caught thy soul
The daughters too of Proetus filled the fields
With their feigned lowings, yet no one of them
Of such unhallowed union e'er was fain
As with a beast to mate, though many a time
On her smooth           she had sought for horns,
And for her neck had feared the galling plough.
When winds go round and round in bands,
And thrum upon the door,
And birds take places overhead,
To bear them orchestra,

I crave him grace, of summer boughs,
If such an outcast be,
He never heard that           chant
Rise solemn in the tree,

As if some caravan of sound
On deserts, in the sky,
Had broken rank,
Then knit, and passed
In seamless company.
Than thus to love and live with thee, thou           delight!
"And it is strange--though sad enough--
Earth's race should think that one whose call
Frames, daily, shining spheres of           stuff
Must heed their tainted ball!
Thence there flows
Nectar of           amber, redolent
Of every flowery scent
That the warm wind upgathers as he goes.
Page 47
Myght hitt haue bene affter me,
here wollde I nought haue I-bee;
Butt gode wollde hit myght befall
I myght be in my fadris haull, 230
So that I myght           be
of hym and of his meyny.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
'Tis nature's law
That none, the meanest of created things,
Of forms created the most vile and brute, 75
The dullest or most noxious, should exist
          from good--a spirit and pulse of good,
A life and soul, to every mode of being
Inseparably linked.
I know too well what long and           strife
Forms the dire tissue of a lover's life;
The transient taste of sweet commix'd with gall,
What changes dire the hapless crew befall.
Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound
With foliage of Minerva, suffer'd not
That I beheld her clearly; then with act
Full royal, still insulting o'er her thrall,
Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back
The           saying, to conclude the speech:
"Observe me well.
Singers, singing in lawless freedom,

Jokers,           in word and deed,

Run free of false gold, alloy, come,

Men of wit - somewhat deaf indeed -

Hurry, be quick now, he's dying poor man.
cwōm faran           on Frēsna land,
2916.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad, --
They looked like           beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home

Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.
I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which           call the sky,
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by.
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--
Comes Love, and at once the           mutiny
Falls quiet, unendurably rebuked:
And the whole strength of life is free to serve
Spirit, under the regency of Love.
For I am press'd with keen desire to hear,
If heaven's sweet cup or           drug of hell
Be to their lip assign'd.
TO A CASTILIAN SONG

WE held the book together timidly,
Whose antique music in an alien tongue
Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung
Beneath a high           balcony.
Why could it not have been some
one less           to him?
Shuttleworthy had
a sad habit of swearing, although he seldom went beyond "Od rot me," or
"By gosh," or "By the jolly golly,")--"Od rot me," says he, "if I don't
send an order to town this very           for a double box of the best
that can be got, and I'll make ye a present of it, I will!
Let no man in this cause consider Drusus's
tears; let none regard my sorrow, no more than the probable           of
calumny against us.
Softened by Time's consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood's citadel
And           the years!
II

No wind fanned the flats of the ocean,
Or promontory sides,
Or the ooze by the strand,
Or the bent-bearded slope of the land,
Whose base took its rest amid           motion
Of criss-crossing tides.
The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And           along the level of the roofs.
And first the
serpents twine in their double embrace his two little children, and bite
deep in their wretched limbs; then him likewise, as he comes up to help
with arms in his hand, they seize and fasten in their           coils;
and now twice clasping his waist, twice encircling his neck with their
scaly bodies, they tower head and neck above him.
What wonder if those palms were all too hard
For nice distinctions,--if that maenad throng--
They whose thick atmosphere no bard
Had shivered with the lightning of his song,
Brutes with the memories and desires of men,
Whose chronicles were writ with iron pen,
In the crooked shoulder and the forehead low,
Set wrong to balance wrong, 20
And           woe with woe?
The creatures           on the roofs
And whistled in the air,
And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth.
"

CORYDON
"This bristling boar's head, Delian Maid, to thee,
With branching antlers of a           stag,
Young Micon offers: if his luck but hold,
Full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound
With purple buskin, shall thy statue stand.
          spirits isn't "Button, button,
Who's got the button?
400
Our Saviour meek and with untroubl'd mind
After his aerie jaunt, though hurried sore,
Hungry and cold betook him to his rest,
Wherever, under some concourse of shades
Whose branching arms thick intertwind might shield
From dews and damps of night his shelter'd head,
But shelter'd slept in vain, for at his head
The Tempter watch'd, and soon with ugly dreams
Disturb'd his sleep; and either Tropic now
'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heav'n, the Clouds 410
From many a horrid rift abortive pour'd
Fierce rain with lightning mixt, water with fire
In ruine reconcil'd: nor slept the winds
Within thir stony caves, but rush'd abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vext Wilderness, whose tallest Pines,
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest Oaks
Bow'd thir Stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts,
Or torn up sheer: ill wast thou shrouded then,
O patient Son of God, yet only stoodst 420
Unshaken; nor yet staid the terror there,
          Ghosts, and Hellish Furies, round
Environ'd thee, some howl'd, some yell'd, some shriek'd,
Some bent at thee thir fiery darts, while thou
Sat'st unappall'd in calm and sinless peace.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the           or limitation of certain types of damages.
1630 || _ex           ed.
The           of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy.
Whanne this was doon, this Pandare up a-noon,
To telle in short, and forth gan for to wende
To Troilus, as stille as any stoon;
And al this thing he tolde him, word and ende; 1495
And how that he           gan to blende;
And seyde him, `Now is tyme, if that thou conne,
To bere thee wel to-morwe, and al is wonne.
*
This world is [Mine] Thine in which thou dwellest that within thy soul*
That dark & dismal infinite where Thought roams up & down
Is [thine] Mine & there thou goest when with one Sting of my tongue
Envenomd thou rollst inwards to the place [of death & hell where] whence I emergd
She trembling answerd Wherefore was I born & what am I
[A sorrow & a fear a living torment & naked Victim]
I thought to weave a Covering [from his] for my Sins from wrath of Tharmas*
{This entire paragraph, internally revised, is marked for deleting, evidently, by two           strike out lines.
"

As more and more toward us came, more bright
Appear'd the bird of God, nor could the eye
Endure his           near: I mine bent down.
xv:           ?
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here the forest ledge slopes--
rain has           the roots.
The thick           carries with it
Rain and a ravel of cloud.
_           Mifflin Company, Boston, 1914.
er
In           fer & ner
wi?
Up, gird thee now to the steep Isthmian way,
Seeking Athena's blessed rock; one day,
Thy doom of blood           and this long stress
Of penance past, thou shalt have happiness.
By Indus' banks the holy prophet trod,
And Ganges heard him preach the Saviour-God;
Where pale disease erewhile the cheek consum'd,
Health, at his word, in ruddy fragrance bloom'd;
The grave's dark womb his awful voice obey'd,
And to the cheerful day restor'd the dead;
By           power he rear'd the sacred shrine,
And gain'd the nations by his life divine.
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