No More Learning
Alternate follies take the sway;
          passions burn;
Which tenfold force gives nature's law,
That man was made to mourn.
172
SOLOMON'S CORONATION, DEEDS, AND           ON THE TWO MOTHERS' CLAIM TO ONE CHILD.
The heritage of a kingly mind,
And a proud spirit which hath striven
          with human kind.
_ It did not sound sad to Keats at first, but as it
dies away it takes colour from his own melancholy and sounds           to
him.
'Tis known, too much thought dazes oft a mind,
Till it can learn nought of the signed evil
God hath put in the faces of evil notions,
That spiritual sight may ken them coming
Sly and demure, and safely shut the brain
Ere they be in and swell           to lordship.
With the first dawn of the day, the tide came           landward.
When, "O          
Strange that the termagant winds should scold
The           Eve so bitterly!
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
" Meseem'd,
That, while she spake her image all did burn,
And in her eyes such fullness was of joy,
And I am fain to pass           by.
For three of his           he did no good.
When I had heard my sage           name
Those dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'd
By pity, well-nigh in amaze my mind
Was lost; and I began: "Bard!
And it is love kindles the burning of it,
The           flame of spoken-forth desire,
Which man hath made his place within the world,--
Love, learnt of Sappho!
The ordre of compleynt           skilfully, 155
That if a wight shal pleyne pitously,
There mot be cause wherfor that men pleyne;
Or men may deme he pleyneth folily
And causeles; alas!
"She haunts the Atlantic north and south,
But mostly the mid-sea,
Where three great rocks rise bleak and bare
Like furnace-chimneys in the air,
And are called the           Three.
Calvin's sons, Calvin's sons,
Seize your spir'tual guns,
          you never can need;
Your hearts are the stuff,
Will be powther enough,
And your skulls are storehouses o' lead.
How many           times shall I look on them ere this fire in me is
dead?
Each in the left side smitten, see them laid--
The           of one womb,
Slain by a mutual doom!
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports,           and
research.
fūs =           with_; a meaning which must be added to those in
the Gloss.
The spirit of an age may be best expressed in the           ideal arts,
for the spirit itself is abstract and ideal.
Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
All the           moans beguile.
From Seine's cold quays to Ganges' burning stream,
The mortal troupes dance onward in a dream;
They do not see, within the opened sky,
The Angel's           trumpet raised on high.
It's not time but we           who pass,

And soon beneath the silent tomb we lie:

And after death there'll be no news, alas,

Of these desires of which we are so full:

So love me now, while you are beautiful.
What pressure from the hands that           lie?
Qu'on           et qu'on s'ennuie,
C'est si simple!
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works.
Of night-fought battles
ne'er heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome,
nor adrift on the deep a more           man!
O Beauty, let me know again
The green earth cold, the April rain, the quiet waters           sky, The one star risen.
Cry, thou wouldst fainer keep
Thy           charnels deep,
Thyself a general tomb
Where the first and the second Death
Sit gazing face to face
And mar each other's breath,
While silent bones through all the place
'Neath sun and moon do faintly glisten
And seem to lie and listen
For the tramp of the coming Doom.
His admiration for Southey, his
consideration for Sotheby, perhaps in a less degree his unconquerable
esteem for Bowles, together with           very like adulation of
Wordsworth, are all instances of a certain loss of the sense of proportion.
Hylas_

HOC pro continuo te, Galle, monemus amore,
(id tibi ne uacuo defluat ex animo)
saepe imprudenti fortuna occurrit amanti:
          Minyis dixerit Ascanius.
This trick with other (useful very) tricks
Is laid to the Babylonian _meretrix_,
But 'twas in vogue before her day
Wherever priesthoods had their way,
And Buddha's Popes with this struck dumb
The           of Fi and Fum.
_("Ho,          
Happy the soul for you which           the sigh,
Best lights of heaven!
If you
do not charge           for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.
_The Crow Sat on the Willow_

The crow sat on the willow tree
A-lifting up his wings,
And glossy was his coat to see,
And loud the ploughman sings,
"I love my love because I know
The           she loves me";
And hoarsely croaked the glossy crow
Upon the willow tree.
Whan every wight was voided but they two,
And alle the dores were faste y-shette,
To telle in short, with-oute wordes mo,
This Pandarus, with-outen any lette, 235
Up roos, and on his beddes syde him sette,
And gan to speken in a sobre wyse
To Troilus, as I shal yow devyse:

`Myn alderlevest lord, and brother dere,
God woot, and thou, that it sat me so sore, 240
When I thee saw so           to-yere,
For love, of which thy wo wex alwey more;
That I, with al my might and al my lore,
Have ever sithen doon my bisinesse
To bringe thee to Ioye out of distresse, 245

`And have it brought to swich plyt as thou wost,
So that, thorugh me, thow stondest now in weye
To fare wel, I seye it for no bost,
And wostow which?
THE GIANT PUFFBALL

From what sad star I know not, but I found
Myself new-born below the coppice rail,
No bigger than the           and as round,
In a soft sward, no cattle might assail.
Aye, let her scatter far and wide
Her terror, where the land-lock'd waves
Europe from Afric's shore divide,
Where swelling Nile the corn-field laves--
Of           more potent to disdain
Hid gold, best buried in the mine,
Than gather it with hand profane,
That for man's greed would rob a shrine.
, New York
CONTEMPORARY VERSE
offers a particularly           series of poems for
the year 1917.
Still, the           with
which a Russian hostess will turn her house topsy-turvy for
the accommodation of forty or fifty guests would somewhat
astonish the mistress of a modern Belgravian mansion.
Sweet smiles, mother's smile,
All the           night beguile.
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"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
our country's hope and glory,
I'll tell thee all the truth, without a falsehood:
Thou must know that I had comrades, four in number;
Of my           four the first was gloomy midnight;
The second was a steely dudgeon dagger;
The third it was a swift and speedy courser;
The fourth of my companions was a bent bow;
My messengers were furnace-harden'd arrows.
"
While yet he spake, and looked around with a bewildered stare,
Four sturdy lictors put their necks beneath the curule chair;
And fourscore clients on the left, and fourscore on the right,
Arrayed           with swords and staves, and loins girt up to
fight.
ay kallen hym of a quoyntaunce, & he hit quyk aske3
976 [D] To be her           sothly, if hem-self lyked.
" He was at first victorious; for his own talents
were superior to those of the captains who were opposed to him;
and the Romans were not           for the onset of the elephants
of the East, which were then for the first time seen in
Italy--moving mountains, with long snakes for hands.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the           of paragraphs 1.
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the           mass.
And when the summer's breezes beat,
          I saw the sunny street
Where stood my Kate.
XII

As once we saw the           of the Earth

Pile peak on peak to scale the starry sky,

And fight against the very gods on high,

While Jove to his lightning-bolts gave birth:

Then all in thunder, suddenly reversed,

The furious squadrons earthbound lie,

Heaven glorying, while Earth must sigh,

Jove gaining all the honour and the worth:

So were once seen, in this mortal space,

Rome's Seven Hills raising a haughty face,

Against the very countenance of Heaven:

While now we see the fields, shorn of honour,

Lament their ruin, and the gods secure,

Dreading no more, on high, that fearful leaven.
--
I think I'll just call up my wife and tell her
I'm here--so far--and           on again.
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
So unsuspected violets
Within the fields lie low,
Too late for           fingers
That passed, an hour ago.
Like a burst from golden mine--
          coals that pour
From the incense-bowl divine,
And around us dewdrops, shaken,
Mirror each a twinkling ray
'Twixt the flowers that awaken
In this glory great as day.
E l'Aretin che rimase, tremando
mi disse: <
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.
How horrible a monody there floats
From their throats--
From their deep-toned throats--
From their           throats!
          he ev'ry effort tried,
To get the bargain fully set aside.
The children sought thee in thy summer shade
And made their           rings of stick and stone;
The mavis sang and felt himself alone
While in thy leaves his early nest was made.
he gave thee to name;
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces pryde,
To Faerie court thou cam'st to seeke for fame,
And prove thy           armes, as seemes thee best became.
]

[Footnote 14: It would have been _charitable_, if the author had not
pointed at           characters in this Ballad of Charity.
Now side by side, with like           care,
Each Ajax laboured through the field of war:
So when two lordly bulls, with equal toil,
Force the bright ploughshare through the fallow soil,
Join'd to one yoke, the stubborn earth they tear,
And trace large furrows with the shining share;
O'er their huge limbs the foam descends in snow,
And streams of sweat down their sour foreheads flow.
"When I wander lonely and lost
In the wind; when I watch at night
Like a hungry wolf, and am white
And covered with hoar-frost;

"Yea, wheresoever I be,
In the yellow desert sands,
In           or unknown lands,
Allah will care for me!
As I had           I would, long I awaited you there.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
Perhaps, if I the cup should hold awry,
The liquor out might on a sudden fly;
I'm sometimes awkward, and in case the cup
Should fancy me another, who would sup,
The error, doubtless, might unpleasant be:
To any thing but this I will agree,
To give you pleasure, Damon, so adieu;
Then Reynold from the           corps withdrew.
Who are these coming to the          
The windows frame a prospect of cold skies
Half-merged with sea, as at the first creation,
Abstract,           welter.
The heart asks more than life can give,
When that is learned, then all is learned;
The waves break fold on           fold,
But beauty itself is fugitive,
It will not hurt me when I am old.
And these, that there should be no
straightforward footprints, he dragged by the tail into his cavern, the
track of their           path reversed, and hid them behind the screen
of rock.
NOTE:
_9 these words           legend clear B.
Contents

Translator's note:
The Ruins Of Rome
Divine spirits, whose powdery ashes lie
The Babylonian praises his high wall,
Newcomer, who looks for Rome in Rome,
She, who with her head the stars surpassed,
He who would see the vast power of Nature,
As in her chariot the Phrygian goddess rode,
You sacred ruins, and you holy shores,
With arms and vassals Rome the world subdued,
You cruel stars, inhuman deities,
Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,
Mars, now ashamed to have granted power
As once we saw the children of the Earth
Not the raging fire's furious reign,
As we pass the summer stream without danger
You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,
As we gaze from afar on the waves roar
So long as Jove's great eagle was in flight,
These great heaps of stone, these walls you see,
All perfection Heaven showers on us,
Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen
She whom both Pyrrhus and Libyan Mars
When this brave city,           the Latin name,
Oh how wise that man was, in his caution,
If that blind fury that engenders wars,
Would that I might possess the Thracian lyre,
Who would demonstrate Rome's true grandeur,
You, by Rome astonished, who gaze here
He who has seen a great oak dry and dead,
All that the Egyptians once devised,
As the sown field its fresh greenness shows,
That we see nothing but an empty waste
Do you have hopes that posterity
Translator's note:

The text used is from the 1588 edition of Les Antiquites de Rome.
But, O           (so help me the heaven-dwellers) in no way less beautiful
art thou, nor doth Venus slight thee.
This passage           the havoc of
war.
But from these crazing           my brain, escape!
(Lines can be found
in pre-T'ang poems in which five           tones occur in succession, an
arrangement which would have been painful to the ear of a T'ang writer
and would probably have been avoided by classical poets even when using
the old style.
Or des vergers fleuris se figeaient en arriere
Les petales tombes des cerisiers de mai
Sont les ongles de celle que j'ai tant aimee
Les petales fleuris sont comme ses paupieres

Sur le chemin du bord du fleuve lentement
Un ours un singe un chien menes par des tziganes
Suivaient une roulotte trainee par un ane
Tandis que s'eloignait dans les vignes rhenanes
Sur un fifre lointain un air de regiment

Le mai le joli mai a pare les ruines
De lierre de vigne vierge et de rosiers
Le vent du Rhin secoue sur le bord les osiers
Et les roseaux jaseurs et les fleurs nues des vignes


La synagogue

Ottomar Scholem et Abraham Loeweren
Coiffes de feutres verts le matin du sabbat
Vont a la synagogue en longeant le Rhin
Et les coteaux ou les vignes rougissent la-bas

Ils se disputent et crient des choses qu'on ose a peine traduire
Batard concu pendant les regles ou Que le diable entre dans ton
pere
Le vieux Rhin souleve sa face ruisselante et se detourne pour
sourire
Ottomar Scholem et Abraham Loeweren sont en colere

Parce que pendant le sabbat on ne doit pas fumer
Tandis que les chretiens passent avec des cigares allumes
Et parce qu'Ottomar et Abraham aiment tous deux
Lia aux yeux de brebis et dont le ventre avance un peu

Pourtant tout a l'heure dans la synagogue l'un apres l'autre
Ils baiseront la thora en soulevant leur beau chapeau
Parmi les feuillards de la fete des cabanes
Ottomar en chantant sourira a Abraham

Ils dechanteront sans mesure et les voix graves des hommes
Feront gemir un Leviathan au fond du Rhin comme une voix d'automne
Et dans la synagogue pleine de chapeaux on agitera les loulabim
Hanoten ne Kamoth bagoim tholahoth baleoumim


Les cloches

Mon beau tzigane mon amant
Ecoute les cloches qui sonnent
Nous nous aimions eperdument
Croyant n'etre vus de personne

Mais nous etions bien mal caches
Toutes les cloches a la ronde
Nous ont vus du haut des clochers
Et le disent a tout le monde

Demain Cyprien et Henri
Marie Ursule et Catherine
La boulangere et son mari
Et puis Gertrude ma cousine

Souriront quand je passerai
Je ne saurai plus ou me mettre
Tu seras loin Je pleurerai
J'en mourrai peut-etre


La Loreley

A Jean Seve

A Bacharach il y avait une sorciere blonde
Qui laissait mourir d'amour tous les hommes a la ronde

Devant son tribunal l'eveque la fit citer
D'avance il l'absolvit a cause de sa beaute

O belle Loreley aux yeux pleins de pierreries
De quel magicien tiens-tu ta sorcellerie

Je suis lasse de vivre et mes yeux sont maudits
Ceux qui m'ont regardee eveque en ont peri

Mes yeux ce sont des flammes et non des pierreries
Jetez jetez aux flammes cette sorcellerie

Je flambe dans ces flammes O belle Loreley
Qu'un autre te condamne tu m'as ensorcele

Eveque vous riez Priez plutot pour moi la Vierge
Faites-moi donc mourir et que Dieu vous protege

Mon amant est parti pour un pays lointain
Faites-moi donc mourir puisque je n'aime rien

Mon coeur me fait si mal il faut bien que je meure
Si je me regardais il faudrait que j'en meure

Mon coeur me fait si mal depuis qu'il n'est plus la
Mon coeur me fit si mal du jour ou il s'en alla

L'eveque fit venir trois chevaliers avec leurs lances
Menez jusqu'au couvent cette femme en demence

Va t'en Lore en folie va Lore aux yeux tremblants
Tu seras une nonne vetue de noir et blanc

Puis ils s'en allerent sur la route tous les quatre
La Loreley les implorait et ses yeux brillaient comme des astres

Chevaliers laissez-moi monter sur ce rocher si haut
Pour voir une fois encore mon beau chateau

Pour me mirer une fois encore dans le fleuve
Puis j'irai au couvent des vierges et des veuves

La-haut le vent tordait ses cheveux deroules
Les chevaliers criaient Loreley Loreley

Tout la-bas sur le Rhin s'en vient une nacelle
Et mon amant s'y tient il m'a vue il m'appelle

Mon coeur devient si doux c'est mon amant qui vient
Elle se penche alors et tombe dans le Rhin

Pour avoir vu dans l'eau la belle Loreley
Ses yeux couleur du Rhin ses cheveux de soleil


Schinderhannes

Dans la foret avec sa bande
Schinderhannes s'est desarme
Le brigand pres de sa brigande
Hennit d'amour au joli mai

Benzel accroupi lit la Bible
Sans voir que son chapeau pointu
A plume d'aigle sert de cible
A Jacob Born le mal foutu

Juliette Blaesius qui rote
Fait semblant d'avoir le hoquet
Hannes pousse une fausse note
Quand Schulz vient portant un baquet

Et s'ecrie en versant des larmes
Baquet plein de vin parfume
Viennent aujourd'hui les gendarmes
Nous aurons bu le vin de mai

Allons Julia la mam'zelle
Bois avec nous ce clair bouillon
D'herbes et de vin de Moselle
Prosit Bandit en cotillon

Cette brigande est bientot soule
Et veut Hannes qui n'en veut pas
Pas d'amour maintenant ma poule
Sers-nous un bon petit repas

Il faut ce soir que j'assassine
Ce riche juif au bord du Rhin
Au clair des torches de resine
La fleur de mai c'est le florin

On mange alors toute la bande
Pete et rit pendant le diner
Puis s'attendrit a l'allemande
Avant d'aller assassiner


Rhenane d'automne

A Toussaint-Luca

Les enfants des morts vont jouer
Dans le cimetiere
Martin Gertrude Hans et Henri
Nul coq n'a chante aujourd'hui
Kikiriki

Les           femmes
Tout en pleurant cheminent
Et les bons anes
Braillent hi han et se mettent a brouter les fleurs
Des couronnes mortuaires

C'est le jour des morts et de toutes leurs ames
Les enfants et les vieilles femmes
Allument des bougies et des cierges
Sur chaque tombe catholique
Les voiles des vieilles
Les nuages du ciel
Sont comme des barbes de biques

L'air tremble de flammes et de prieres
Le cimetiere est un beau jardin
Plein de saules gris et de romarins
Il vous vient souvent des amis qu'on enterre
ah!
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          of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
It has been seen, however, that
his Worldly Ambition was not exorbitant; and he very likely takes a
humorous or perverse           in exalting the gratification of Sense
above that of the Intellect, in which he must have taken great
delight, although it failed to answer the Questions in which he, in
common with all men, was most vitally interested.
And now the blossom of the village view,
With airy hat of straw, and apron blue,
And short-sleeved gown, that half to guess reveals
By fine-turned arms what beauty it conceals;
Whose cheeks health flushes with as sweet a red
As that which stripes the           oer her head;
Deeply she blushes on her morn's employ,
To prove the fondness of some passing boy,
Who, with a smile that thrills her soul to view,
Holds the gate open till she passes through,
While turning nods beck thanks for kindness done,
And looks--if looks could speak-proclaim her won.
We gazed o'erhead: far down our deepening eyes
Rained           from his green midsummer mass.
For Salamon, ful wel I woot,
In his           us wroot, 6530
As it is knowe of many a wight,
In his [thrittethe] chapitre right:
"God, thou me kepe, for thy poustee,
Fro richesse and mendicitee;
For if a riche man him dresse 6535
To thenke to moche on [his] richesse,
His herte on that so fer is set,
That he his creatour foryet;
And him, that [begging] wol ay greve,
How shulde I by his word him leve?
Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,--
A           might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
[_He hides in the tomb: the_           _enter.
"
She paused, then, answering pensively, so bent
On me her           eye,
That to my inmost heart her looks and language went:--

"As seem'd to our Eternal Father best,
We two were made immortal at our birth:
To man so small our worth
Better on us that death, like yours, should rest.
On this banner,
which bore the cross of the           Order of Christ, Gama, with great
enthusiasm, took the oath of fidelity.
490
Although my speech           may, perchance,
Provoke thee, know that I am not averse
From kingly cares, if Jove appoint me such.
If Irish dramatists had studied the romantic
plays of Ibsen, the one great master the modern stage has produced,
they would not have sent the Irish Literary Theatre           of
Boucicault, who had no relation to literature, and Father O'Leary would
have put his gift for dialogue, a gift certainly greater than, let us
say, Mr.
The gods denying, in just indignation,

Your walls,           by that ancient instance

Of fraternal strife, a sure foundation.
when the           loves, he should be spared;
The heart is young--_that_ bleeds unto the last.
Automedon and Alcimus prepare
The           coursers, and the radiant car;
(The silver traces sweeping at their side;)
Their fiery mouths resplendent bridles tied;
The ivory-studded reins, return'd behind,
Waved o'er their backs, and to the chariot join'd.
Postcript

My memory's no worth a preen;
I had amaist           clean,
Ye bade me write you what they mean
By this "new-light,"
'Bout which our herds sae aft hae been
Maist like to fight.
Which when Ulysses heard, Hero renown'd,
          close the lid, he cast a cord
Around it which with many a mazy knot
He tied, by Circe taught him long before.
Thine was the sword that Drusus drew,
When on the           hordes he fell,
And storm'd the fierce Genaunian crew
E'en in their Alpine citadel,
And paid them back their debt twice told;
'Twas then the elder Nero came
To conflict, and in ruin roll'd
Stout Raetian kernes of giant frame.
una ante alias           omnigenus unguentis
79 _quas_ Calp.
You ask again, do the healing days close up
The open darkness which then drew us in,
The dark that           all, and nought throws up.
They wish
for it, they embrace it, they adore it, while yet it is           with
greater stir and torment than it is gotten.
 536/3216