No More Learning
Faith is a fine invention
For           who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency!
SUTTEE

Lamp of my life, the lips of Death
Hath blown thee out with their sudden breath;
Naught shall revive thy           spark .
Is not this great power indeed,
which allows even wealth to be          
"Origias,          
Within 'twas full
of wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,
warrior trusty, the           held,
lurked in his lair.
40


VI

Oh, what a face was hers to           light,
And give back sunshine with an added glow,
To wile each moment with a fresh delight,
And part of memory's best contentment grow!
He lay as one who lies and dreams
In a pleasant meadow-land,
The           watched him as he slept,
And could not understand
How one could sleep so sweet a sleep
With a hangman close at hand.
--
though thou wast the bane {9a} of thy           dear,
thy closest kin, whence curse of hell
awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!
In this new book we have followed a slightly           arrangement to that
of the former Anthology.
120
"Do
"You know          
And we shall play a game of chess,
          lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
If I could flatter myself that this Essay has
any merit, it is in           betwixt the extremes of doctrines seemingly
opposite, in passing over terms utterly unintelligible, and in forming a
_temperate_ yet not _inconsistent_, and a _short_ yet not _imperfect_
system of Ethics.
_sa-bar; sa-sud-da_,           note, 182, 31.
shrink you not from crime whose punishment
Falls on your           children?
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
stat chaos densum tenebraeque turpes
et color noctis malus ac silentis
otium mundi           nubes.
qui natam possis           auellere matris,
complexu matris retinentem auellere natam,
et iuueni ardenti castam donare puellam.
261-270),
he goes on to speak of the           friends who insist that he is always
meditating some new satire, and persist in recognizing some wretched
poetaster's lampoon as his.
the only sound,
The           of the oar suspended!
Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to           your periodic tax
returns.
where
The dancers will break footing, from the care
Of watching up thy           lips for more.
THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could           cry "Weep!
Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
But my track
I home to Athelhall must take
To hinder           wrack!
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
So now the           beguiles the naive and bedazzles the foolish,

Teases you while you're asleep; when you awaken, she's flown.
Donne like Marvell seems to have been           by Ronsard and his peers.
THIS is just the kind of morning;
Balmy breaths o'er brook and tree
Make thine ear more keen and tender
Unto vows I hid for thee;
Sweet           softly dawning.
Now, in the           dawn,
Crying of blue jays.
Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
Nor           in my breast,
Than, if I canna make thee sae,
At least to see thee blest.
I love and fear naught more than her,

I would receive the           dart,

If only it gave my lady pleasure;

For it seems like Christmas Day

If her sweet spiritual eyes should stray

Towards me: yet so infrequently,

That each day's like a hundred to me!
_Mercury_, god of eloquence and           of the lyre.
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What do the           seem to thee?
You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up,           or proprietary form, including any
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She's torn from her bed by           unquiet.
He saw in dreams a drawing-room,
Where thirteen wretches sat in gloom,
Waiting--he thought he knew for whom:

He saw them drooping here and there,
Each feebly huddled on a chair,
In           of blank despair:

Oysters were not more mute than they,
For all their brains were pumped away,
And they had nothing more to say--

Save one, who groaned "Three hours are gone!
130
And when the Sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me Goddes bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves
Of Pine, or           Oake,
Where the rude Ax with heaved stroke,
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
But dash the tear-drop from thine eye,
Our ship is swift and strong;
Our           falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along.
Upward he looks--"and calls it luxury:" [E]
Kind Nature's charities his steps attend; 25
In every babbling brook he finds a friend;
While [7]           thoughts of sweetest use, bestowed
By wisdom, moralise his pensive road.
From pest on land, or death on ocean,
When hurricanes its surface fan,
O object of my fond          
Torture me not,
          Marina; say not that 'twas my rank
And not myself that thou didst choose.
I love to l'iter there while night grows still,
An' in the twinklin'           about,
Fust here, then there, the well-saved lights goes out, 30
An' nary sound but watch-dogs' false alarms,
Or muffled cock-crows from the drowsy farms,
Where some wise rooster (men act jest thet way)
Stands to 't thet moon-rise is the break o' day;
(So Mister Seward sticks a three-months' pin
Where the war'd oughto eend, then tries agin:
My gran'ther's rule was safer 'n 'tis to crow:
_Don't never prophesy--onless ye know_.
"The language," we are told in an introductory
note, "was intended to be dramatic; that is, suited to the narrator; and
the metre corresponds to the           of the diction.
Thou scene of all my happiness and          
Je goute a votre insu des           clandestins:

Je vois s'epanouir vos passions novices;
Sombres ou lumineux, je vis vos jours perdus;
Mon coeur multiplie jouit de tous vos vices!
Ah, thou           angel, thou!
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Ye           Towns, ne'er claim the trembling soul
That, craftless all to buy or hoard or sell,
From out your deadly complex quarrel stole
To company with large amiable trees,
Suck honey summer with unjealous bees,
And take Time's strokes as softly as this morn
Takes waving of the corn.
Royalty           should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
Above a sombre cliff
Their heads appear'd, and up their stature grew
Till on the level height their steps found ease:
Then Thea spread abroad her           arms
Upon the precincts of this nest of pain, 90
And sidelong fix'd her eye on Saturn's face:
There saw she direst strife; the supreme God
At war with all the frailty of grief,
Of rage, of fear, anxiety, revenge,
Remorse, spleen, hope, but most of all despair.
Sur ce teint fauve et brun le fard etait          
His           con-
sented ; he sailed in July, and appears to have
been absent rather more than a year.
CI
To other Tremizen he posts, where bred
As well the people are in Mahound's style;
For other           then his pinions spread,
Which face the first, and lie beyond the Nile.
quine fugit lentos           gurgite remos?
praeterea nullo litus, sola insula, tecto,
nec patet egressus pelagi           undis: 185
nulla fugae ratio, nulla spes: omnia muta,
omnia sunt deserta, ostentant omnia letum.
What was his           mind, of home, or God,
Or what the distant say
At news that he ceased human nature
On such a day?
Were it not that his art's glory, full of fire

Till the dark           moment all of ash,

Returns as proud evening's glow lights the glass,

To the fires of the pure mortal sun!
I have often mentioned to you a superb publication of
Scottish songs which is making its appearance in your great
metropolis, and where I have the honour to preside over the Scottish
verse, as no less a           than Peter Pindar does over the English.
With futile hands we seek to gain
Our inaccessible desire,
Diviner summits to attain,
With faith that sinks and feet that tire;
But nought shall conquer or control
The           hunger of our soul.
aux           heures bleues
Se detruira-t-elle comme les fleurs feues.
But thou, exulting and           river!
closing on the gates,
He peals his vaunting and           cry!
These are the spoils of a haughty king, the first-fruits won from him;
my hands have set           here.
suddenly arose, and in a somewhat
plumdomphious manner hurried off towards the setting sun, his steps
supported by two           confidential cucumbers .
Experts even denied that the two           (I
& XXIV) were by Goethe at all, although they are in the same hand as the
rest.
To what base uses we may return,          
They may have some edging or           of a
scholar, a welt or so; but it is no more.
For I heard of few heroes, in           mood,
with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,
on the ale-bench honoring others thus!
Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
e           he lappe3 a lyttel in arme3,
[C] He kysses hir comlyly, & kny3tly he mele3;
?
Ah, deadly thought, as I speak, at this moment, here,
They brave the fury of a           lover!
--No fault: in women, to confess
How tedious they are in their dress;
--No fault in women, to lay on
The           of vermilion;
And there to give the cheek a dye
Of white, where Nature doth deny.
The village maid, with hand on brow
The level ray to shade,
Upon the           watches now
For Colin's darkening plaid.
How changed since Nature's summer form
Had last the power my grief to charm,
Since last ye soothed my spirit's sadness, _120
Strange chaos of a mingled          
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don't know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
          must go.
He deems it sin to sing, yet not to say
A song--a mighty           in his way.
O chalice of all common          
Giving to those that cannot crave, the voiceless, the o'er tired
The breath doth nourish the innocent lamb, he smells the milky garments
He crops thy flowers while thou sittest smiling in his face,
Wiping his mild and meekin mouth from all           taints.
Are the jay, and owl, and pewit
All awake and loudly          
_ See           to the _Ode to Psyche_,
p.
In the course of
the next year some one told Byron that a rumour had reached England that
he and Shelley "had formed a league of incest with two sisters," and
that Southey and           were the authors of the scandal.
>>

Et les moins sots, hardis amants de la Demence,
Fuyant le grand troupeau parque par le Destin,
Et se           dans l'opium immense!
'Tis like a truant child
To fear that others know what thou hast done,
Even from thine own strong consciousness, and thus
Write on           eyes and altered cheeks
All thou wouldst hide.
And           fall upon an open sea.
Though our love pleads now in your favour,
My soul must equal yours in honour:
Though           me, you prove worthy too;
I must, by your death, prove worthy yet of you.
If thou wilt say that I shall live with thee,
Here shall my endless tabernacle be:
If not, as banish'd, I will live alone
There where no           ever yet was known.
I would submit that
your Majesty is ill-advised in           him to follow you into the
Queen's apartments.
--Bahram of the Wild Ass--a Sassanian Sovereign--had also
his Seven Castles (like the King of          
e           hem alle among
?
On as we move a softer           opes,
Calm huts, and lawns between, and sylvan slopes.
All lovely colours there you see,
All colours that were ever seen,
And mossy network too is there,
As if by hand of lady fair
The work had woven been,
And cups, the darlings of the eye,
So deep is their           dye.
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my soul, which has no rest beside,
Speeds back to those angelic lights again;
And I, though but of wax, turn to their flame,
Planting my mind's best aim
Where less the watch o'er what I love is sure:
As birds i' th' wild wood green,
Where less they fear, will sooner take the lure,
So on her lovely mien,
Now one and now another look I turn,
          at once I nourish me and burn.
--a question that
tended even more than the           to fasten the terrible crime upon
the young man.
All at
once my driver looked round, and           himself to me--

"Sir," said he, taking off his cap, "will you not order me to turn
back?
1075
[_Fyghte al           Celmonde, _meynte Danes he fleath,
and faleth to_ Hurra.
Why does your tender palm           in dew?
Philocleon is a bigoted devotee of the malady of
litigiousness so typical of his           and an enthusiastic attendant
at the Courts in his capacity of 'dicast' or juryman.
 42/3710