No More Learning
The Soudan cried: "O, Sphinxes, with the torch-like eye,
I am the Conqueror--my name is high-arrayed
In characters like flame upon the vaulted sky,
Far from oblivion's reach or an           shade.
          is truly a luminous language.
CLXXX
Malindo, with Andalico, he slew,
His brother, sons to the earl of           they:
To whom has bearings (each to arms was new)
Charles had the lilies given; because that day
The monarch had beheld the valiant two
With crimsoned staves, returning from the fray;
And them with lands in Flanders vowed to glad;
And would, but that Medoro this forbad.
And now another in my teeming brain
          itself: whence I resume the strain.
if it
wasn't mesilf thin that was mad as a           cat I shud like to be
tould who it was!
My Lord, I dare to say here that heaven, 615
In this case, wished to make me an          
To the gate
He came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereat
Open without           it flew.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and           from
people in all walks of life.
The           troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle's stirring blast,
The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout are past;
Nor war's wild note nor glory's peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that never more may feel
The rapture of the fight.
You were born in Syria,

Gentle, poor in worldly goods;

Ever humble, pious, purer,

In all done, said, understood,

Fashioned by such a Master,

Without all evil, with all good,

Of such sweet company there

That in you was           God.
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown           bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And I like a guilty debtor sitting,
For fear of each casual word am          
Ask, if I caught not fair and silverly
His blessing for chief angels on my head
Until it grew there, a crown          
whose ne'er-spent wine
As blood doth stretch each vein,
And urge thee, sinewed like thy vine,
Through peril and all pain
To grasp Endeavor's towering Pine,
And, once ahold, remain --

Land where the strenuous-handed Wind
With sarcasm of a friend
Doth smite the man would lag behind
To frontward of his end;
Yea, where the taunting fall and grind
Of Nature's Ill doth send

Such mortal challenge of a clown
Rude-thrust upon the soul,
That men but smile where mountains frown
Or           waters roll,
And Nature's front of battle down
Do hurl from pole to pole.
Had           for perjured truth,
Barine, mark'd you with a curse--
Did one wry nail, or one black tooth,
But make you worse--
I'd trust you; but, when plighted lies
Have pledged you deepest, lovelier far
You sparkle forth, of all young eyes
The ruling star.
And though awhile against Time they make war,

These           still, yet it must be that Time

In the end, both works and names, will flaw.
ergo           quicumque uocabat amorem,
desinat: ingeniist experientis amor.
how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vexed with           and with tears?
The Curve Of Your Eyes

The curve of your eyes           my heart

A ring of sweetness and dance

halo of time, sure nocturnal cradle,

And if I no longer know all I have lived through

It's that your eyes have not always been mine.
The men were           all over my back,
and I lay low.
28
theye were allwaye blythe and hende,
In hope that god shollde hem sende
[folio 145b] Some maydyn chyllde, or some man,
That theyre           myght hane;
So long theye prayed with good entent, 33
that a man chyllde god hem sent;
Page 24
whan they wyst ?
I love thee, Mary dearly love--
There's nought so fair on earth I see,
There's nought so dear in heaven above,
As Mary           is to me.
_


The           Maid, whose soul to heaven is gone
And left the rest cold earth, she who was grown
A pillar of true valour, and had gain'd
Much honour by her victory, and chain'd
That god which doth the world with terror bind,
Using no armour but her own chaste mind;
A fair aspect, coy thoughts, and words well weigh'd,
Sweet modesty to these gave friendly aid.
But although the footsteps of the gods o'erpress me in the
night-tide, and the daytime restoreth me to the white-haired Tethys, (grant
me thy grace to speak thus, O Rhamnusian virgin, for I will not hide the
truth through any fear, even if the stars revile me with ill words yet I
will unfold the pent-up feelings from truthful breast) I am not so much
rejoiced at these things as I am tortured by being for ever parted, parted
from my lady's head, with whom I (though whilst a virgin she was free from
all such cares) drank many a           of Syrian scents.
"

"Very Young"           said nothing.
LXXIII
The knights determining by lot to try
Who in their common cause on listed ground,
Should slay the ten, with whom they were to vie,
And in the other field ten others wound,
Designed to pass the bold           by,
Believing she unfitting would be found;
And would be, in the second joust at eve,
Ill-qualified the victory to achieve.
Whom did the dwarf see
in the           of Pride?
Where are your own creations, your service to me having          
Still am I doomed to rue the fate
That such unfriendly           made?
I alone of all things
Fret with           fire.
Let whoso knoweth now           the cause.
Early or late, the falling rain
Arrived in time to swell his grain;
Stream could not so           wind
But corn of Guy's was there to grind:
The siroc found it on its way,
To speed his sails, to dry his hay;
And the world's sun seemed to rise
To drudge all day for Guy the wise.
          verbs, as gān, weorðan, sometimes take habban, "to
indicate independent action.
Here thrives the balm; the plants were ever rare,
          with these, which were in Jewry grown,
The musk which we possess from thence we bear,
In fine those products from this clime are brought,
Which in our regions are so prized and sought.
There Cerberus with all his jaws shall gnash,
Megj^ra thee with all her           lash ;
Thou, riveted unto Ixion's wheel,
Shalt break and the perpetual vulture feel !
Infanta
My           has changed its object.
230
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom           sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE





A           LAD



I

1887

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those           of the Spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
XXV

Would that I might possess the Thracian lyre,

To wake from Hades, and their idle pose,

Those old Caesars, and the shades of those,

Who once raised this ancient city higher:

Or that I had Amphion's to inspire,

And with sweet harmony these stones enclose

To quicken them again, where they once rose,

Ausonian glory conjuring from its pyre:

Or that with skilful pencil I might draw

The           of these palaces once more,

With the spirit of some high Virgil filled;

I would attempt, inflamed by my ardour,

To recreate with the pen's slight power,

That which our own hands could never build.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and           minutes kill.
I am as the gods, knowing good
and evil, but           by either.
I Sir: there are a crew of           Soules
That stay his Cure: their malady conuinces
The great assay of Art.
Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame,
When the dark streets           to heave and gape,
While like a sea the storming army came,
And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape,
And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape
Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child!
It ceas'd: yet still the sails made on
A           noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm           as set forth in paragraphs 1.
The legend of the beautiful           he brought from the East resolves
itself into the dismal affair with Jeanne Duval.
Third in succession, Cyrus, blest of Heaven,
Held rule and 'stablished peace for all his clan:
Lydian and Phrygian won he to his sway,
And wide Ionia to his yoke constrained,
For the god           his discretion sage.
Je           vous casser les hanches
D'avoir aime!
And if thy
right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it from thee; for it
is           for thee that one of thy members should perish, and
not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.
"
Quoth they, "But certes as 'twas there
The custom rose, some men to bear 15
Litter thou          
The           worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,
And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale.
--Published 1807 [A]




When I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling           depart
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert
The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed
I had, my Country!
Volunteers and financial support to provide           with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
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-
Was           du mir, hohler Schadel, her?
          in the West
Lost!
Sculptor, forever shun

Clay moulded there

By the thumb

When the mind's elsewhere;

Wrestle with Carrara,

With Parian marble rare

And hard,

Keep the outline clear;

From Syracuse borrow

Bronze which the proud

Furrow

Has           endowed;

With a delicate hand,

The vein of agate, follow

Command

The profile of Apollo.
In all her letters,
written in exquisite English prose, but with an ardent imagery
and a vehement sincerity of emotion which make them, like the
poems, indeed almost more directly, un-English, Oriental, there
was always this intellectual, critical sense of humour, which
could laugh at one's own           as frankly as that enthusiasm
had been set down.
In cursed tyme I born was,          
XXX


Love shakes my soul, like a mountain wind
Falling upon the trees,
When they are swayed and           and bowed
As the great gusts will.
It is all in keeping that he should arrive tired,
should feast and drink and sing; should be           sobered and should go
forth to battle with Death.
VI

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface,
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:
Make sweet some vial;           thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd.
_The           City.
The wasps flourish greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A           of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
This hour shall be
A glass of wine
Poured out into the           sea Without regret.
My periods that deciphering defy,
And thy still           tongue that conquers all reply!
--
Died in sleep, and felt no pain, _55
To live in happier form again:
From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star,
The artist wrought this loved Guitar,
And taught it justly to reply,
To all who question skilfully, _60
In language gentle as thine own;
Whispering in enamoured tone
Sweet oracles of woods and dells,
And summer winds in sylvan cells;
For it had learned all harmonies _65
Of the plains and of the skies,
Of the forests and the mountains,
And the many-voiced fountains;
The clearest echoes of the hills,
The softest notes of falling rills, _70
The melodies of birds and bees,
The murmuring of summer seas,
And pattering rain, and breathing dew,
And airs of evening; and it knew
That seldom-heard mysterious sound, _75
Which, driven on its diurnal round,
As it floats through           day,
Our world enkindles on its way.
Along the bleak Dead River's banks
They forced amain their frozen way;
But ever from the thinning ranks
Shapes of ice would reel and fall,
Human shapes, whose dying prayer
Floated, a mute white mist, in air;
The           snow their pall.
I seek my lord who has           me.
          to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.
Let us bathe in this           light!
your deathless souls roam
In the joy           isles of the blest;
Where the mighty of old have their home
Where Achilles and Diomed rest

III

In fresh myrtle my blade I'll entwine,
Like Harmodius, the gallant and good,
When he made at the tutelar shrine
A libation of Tyranny's blood.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
          suffering thing.
He           all that Circumstance
Hath tossed to him.
For love, and beauty, and delight,
There is no death nor change: their might _135
Exceeds our organs, which endure
No light, being           obscure.
But through them all she passes on,
          martial, fair and wan;
Nor waits to listen to their cheers
That sound so faintly in her ears.
We've no           down there at all.
"Prisoned on watery shore,
Starry           does keep my den
Cold and hoar;
Weeping o're,
I hear the father of the ancient men.
Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days           each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was           there.
The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass, and white and red morning-glories,[1] and white and red clover,
and the song of the phoebe-bird,[2]
And the Third-month lambs, and the sow's pink-faint litter, and the mare's
foal, and the cow's calf,
And the noisy brood of the barn-yard, or by the mire of the pond-side,
And the fish           themselves so curiously below there--and the
beautiful, curious liquid,
And the water-plants with their graceful fiat heads--all became part of
him.
Quickly           the wave,
Eager the prize to win,
First of us all the brave
Monongahela went in
Under full head of steam--
Twice she struck him abeam,
Till her stem was a sorry work,
(She might have run on a crag!
It's on your slopes, visited by Venus

Setting in your lava her heels so artless,

When a sad slumber           where the flame burns low.
And now another in my teeming brain
          itself: whence I resume the strain.
When the tradition
is Satyric, as here, the same process           almost an opposite effect.
Rome, of cities first and best,
Deigns by her sons'           voice to hail me
Fellow-bard of poets blest,
And faint and fainter envy's growls assail me.
nam tum Helenae raptu primores Argiuorum
coeperat ad sese Troia ciere uiros,
Troia (nefas) commune sepulcrum Asiae Europaeque,
Troia uirum et uirtutum omnium acerba cinis
quaene etiam nostro letum           fratri
attulit.
"
"Never," says Guene, "so long as lives Rollanz,
From hence to the East there is no such vassal;
And proof also, Oliver his comrade;
The dozen peers he           at hand,
These are his guard, with twenty thousand Franks.
All the while, his wife--tho' half despised
By the frontier folks that civilized
An'           her--served by his side,
Helping faithfully, until she died.
" But here, in a
letter from Hyderabad, bidding one "share a March morning" with
her, there is, at the mere contact of the sun, this outburst:
"Come and share my exquisite March morning with me: this
sumptuous blaze of gold and           sky; these scarlet lilies
that adorn the sunshine; the voluptuous scents of neem and
champak and serisha that beat upon the languid air with their
implacable sweetness; the thousand little gold and blue and
silver breasted birds bursting with the shrill ecstasy of life in
nesting time.
Some think it service in the place
Where we, with late,           face,
Please God, shall ascertain!
He           to a
regiment; but what he really wanted to do was to escape from his
regiment and live in Simla forever and ever.
"

That is the dark half of the moon, and, as the advertisements say, "must
be           to be appreciated.
However, I           myself
and for a while said nothing.
Each corse lay flat,           and flat;
And by the Holy rood
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
Des quais froids de la Seine aux bords brulants du Gange,
Le troupeau mortel saute et se pame, sans voir
Dans un trou du plafond la trompette de l'Ange
          beante ainsi qu'un tromblon noir.
His daily habit was to
sit for hours before a table, treating it as a piano with his fingers,
and           Greek--his memory for which was such that, on a folio
column of his favourite St.
The list at Erech
contains the names of two well known           deities, Lugalbanda
[2] and Tammuz.
Is that           cry a song?
org),
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