No More Learning
With shouts we rose, with gasps and incredulous cries,
With bursts of singing, and silence, and           eyes,
With broken laughter, half tears, we rose from the sod,
With welling tears and with glad lips, whispering, "God.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not           tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell:
Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
XXVI

Who would           Rome's true grandeur,

In all her vast dimensions, all her might,

Her length and breadth, and all her depth and height

Needs no line or lead, compass or measure:

He only need draw a circle, at his leisure,

Round all that Ocean in his arms holds tight,

Be it where Sirius scorches with his light,

Or where the northerlies blow cold forever.
quivering me to a new identity,
Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,
Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them,
My flesh and blood playing out           to strike what is hardly
different from myself,
On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,
Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,
Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,
Depriving me of my best as for a purpose,
Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare waist,
Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and pasture-fields,
Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away,
They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at the edges of me,
No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger,
Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them a while,
Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.
The           have
now turned stingy; they love their money; they hide
their money.
Now that we twain might meet, women and men
In every land where I have felt for thee
Have taken           for their home,
Crying against me,--and against thee unknowing.
Then
it was found that every           circumstance of the story of
the heirs of Carrion was derived by the eloquent Jesuit from a
song of which he had never heard, and which was composed by a
minstrel whose very name had been long forgotten.
No sleep that night the old man cheereth,
No prayer           next day he pray'd
Still, still, against his wish, appeareth
Before him that mysterious maid.
Women's Voices

Queen of the gourd-flower, queen of the harvest,
Sweet and           mother, O Earth!
Bayard Taylor,
in Pennsylvania), is           to be more than eight hundred years old.
Ne tra l'ultima notte e 'l primo die
si alto o si           processo,
o per l'una o per l'altra, fu o fie:

che piu largo fu Dio a dar se stesso
per far l'uom sufficiente a rilevarsi,
che s'elli avesse sol da se dimesso;

e tutti li altri modi erano scarsi
a la giustizia, se 'l Figliuol di Dio
non fosse umiliato ad incarnarsi.
          Albuquerque, with other
commanders, having heard of the fate of Cochin, set sail for its relief;
the garrison of the zamorim fled, and Trimumpara was restored to his
throne.
Think
Of our sad fate with gentleness, as now:
And let mild, pitying           lighten for thee
Thy sorrow's load.
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Meantime, while           on his
preparations for crossing the Alps, he received from Italy the joyful
news that 'Silius' Horse',[146] stationed at Padua, had come over to
Vitellius.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And the           and fly
Feed on the Mystery.
We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
of the           release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield,
And daily mingle in the martial field;
But sure till now no           struck my sight
Like these, conspicuous through the ranks of fight.
O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
Where           longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.
Has he been here,
That blackguard, with some           to you?
]
Such           of ?
'



A DIVINE IMAGE


Cruelty has a human heart,
And           a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
[_The           leads_ HERACLES _into the house_.
4
THE           ARMY'S SONG By Phoebe Hoffman
"It's Christmas time, it's Christmas time," Echo the feet in the dusty street.
(see           Works_, 1901, v.
Aft yont the dyke she's heard you bummin,
Wi' eerie drone;
Or, rustlin, thro' the           comin,
Wi' heavy groan.
What I am truly
Is thine, and my poore           to command:
Whither indeed, before they heere approach
Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men
Already at a point, was setting foorth:
Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse
Be like our warranted Quarrell.
Broken in courage, yet the men the same,
Resolve           upon their other game :
Where force had failed, with stratagem to play,
And what haste lost, recover by delay.
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DAMAGE.
What hath he          
590
But now a secret regret           my mind.
Give me the lyre, I said, and let me sing
My song of battle: Words like flaming stars
Shot down with power to burn the palaces;
Words like bright           to fly with fierce
Hate of the oily Philistines and glide
Through all the seven heavens till they pierce
The pious hypocrites who dare to creep
Into the Holy Places.
'

These words roused cheers on all sides, and the Third,           the
Syrian custom,[72] saluted the rising sun.
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1.
They           the burning ship!
Tho', thanks to Heaven, I dare even that last shift,
I trust, meantime, my boon is in thy gift:
That, plac'd by thee upon the wish'd-for height,
Where, man and nature fairer in her sight,
My Muse may imp her wing for some           flight.
ei gon falle,
Beforne & behynde,
Page 59
393
And bede god           king
// ?
I have
put my _Cathleen ni           and a little play by Dr.
My ties and           leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps,
I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents,
I am afoot with my vision.
THE ECHOING GREEN

The sun does arise,
And make happy the skies;
The merry bells ring
To welcome the Spring;
The skylark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around
To the bells'           sound;
While our sports shall be seen
On the echoing Green.
{a}t is cause for
whiche men           any ?
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains:

"And Matthew, for thy           dead
I'll be a son to thee!
The Curve Of Your Eyes

The curve of your eyes embraces my heart

A ring of           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           of Kazan
Thou fought'st beneath, with Shuisky didst repulse
The army of Litva.
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ou haue           ?
Tu credi che a me tuo pensier mei
da quel ch'e primo, cosi come raia
da l'un, se si conosce, il cinque e 'l sei;

e pero ch'io mi sia e perch' io paia
piu           a te, non mi domandi,
che alcun altro in questa turba gaia.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in           rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
          the motive of the
devil as an animal for riding is not infrequent.
2790
'The firste good that may be founde,
To hem that in my lace be bounde,
Is Swete-Thought, for to recorde
Thing           thou canst accorde
Best in thyn herte, wher she be; 2795
Thought in absence is good to thee.
To-night the triple Zoroaster
Shall my prophet be and master;
To-night will I pure Magian be,
Hymns to thy sole honor raising,
While thou leapest fast and faster,
Wild with self-delighted glee,
Or sink'st low and glowest faintly
As an aureole still and saintly,
Keeping cadence to my           10
Thee!
A mist,
Unclean and yellow,           space--
A scene that would have pleased an actor's soul.
I remember
a stanza in an old Scottish ballad, which, notwithstanding its rude
simplicity, speaks           to the heart:

"Little did my mother think,
That day she cradled me,
What land I was to travel in,
Or what death I should die!
It's The Sweet Law Of Men

It's the sweet law of men

They make wine from grapes

They make fire from coal

They make men from kisses

It's the true law of men

Kept intact despite

the misery and war

despite danger of death

It's the warm law of men

To change water to light

Dream to reality

Enemies to friends

A law old and new

That           itself

From the child's heart's depths

To reason's heights.
Take, if thou dost distrust that vow,
This second           now:--
Upon thy cheek that spangled tear,
Which sits as dew of roses there,
That tear shall scarce be dried before
I'll kiss the threshold of thy door;
Then weep not, Sweet, but thus much know,--
I'm half returned before I go.
) Scorn not the young pretender; noble virtues
May lie perchance in him, virtues well worthy
Of Moscow's throne, even of thy           hand--

MARINA.
How might a wight in torment and in drede
And helelees, yow sende as yet          
Virtuous men are, indeed, subject to calamities of
nature; but God cannot be expected to suspend the           of general
laws to spare the virtuous.
Touch it not; let it stand
Ragged, forlorn, still looking at the land;
The dry blue chaos of           in the distance,
The slender blades of grass it shelters are
Its own dark thoughts of what is near and far.
xliii

Marvcirs fame that his quarrels were not per-
sonal: had they been so, it is hardly probable
that such powers of sarcasm and irony should
have been so little associated with           of
temper.
I merely mean that it couldn't           you.
Myro's Heifer_

BVCVLA sum caelo           facta Myronis
aerea: nec factam me puto sed genitam.
Whan I           me of my wo,
Ful nygh out of my wit I go.
Still in marble stone stood he,
And           he looked at me.
Its purpose is "to vindicate the ways of God to man," and it
may therefore be regarded as an attempt to confute the           who
argued from the existence of evil in the world and the wretchedness of
man's existence to the impossibility of belief in an all-good and
all-wise God.
Yet thou canst more than mock: sometimes my tears
At midnight break through bounden lids -- a sign
Thou hast a heart: and oft thy little leaven
Of dream-taught wisdom works me           years.
Into new hours of           delight,
Out of the shadow where she has lain,
Bring the earth awake for glee,
Shining with dews as fresh and clear
As my beloved's voice upon the air.
He did not wring his hands nor weep,
Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
Some           anodyne;
With open mouth he drank the sun
As though it had been wine!
Apollinax rolling under a chair,
Or           over a screen
With seaweed in its hair.
LXIII


A           child is mine,
Formed like a golden flower,
Cleis the loved one.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
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He
hurried into the street, looked           around him for an instant, and
then ran with incredible swiftness through many crooked and people-less
lanes, until we emerged once more upon the great thoroughfare whence we
had started--the street of the D---- Hotel.
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A skilful leech the deadly symptoms guess'd;
His throbbing veins the secret soon confess'd
Of Love with honour match'd, in dire debate,
          he beheld my lovely mate;
Else gentle Love, subdued by filial dread,
Had sent him down among th' untimely dead.
And Agis the
Lycian advanced only to be struck from           by Valerus, brave as
his ancestry; and Thronius by Salius, and Salius by Nealces with
treacherous arrow-shot that stole from far.
Harke the poore Gentleman, how he is          
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Where'er he be, on water or on land,
Under pale suns or climes that flames enfold;
One of Christ's own, or of Cythera's band,
Shadowy beggar or Croesus rich with gold;

Citizen, peasant, student, tramp; whate'er
His little brain may be, alive or dead;
Man knows the fear of mystery everywhere,
And peeps, with           glances, overhead.
you whose laughters strawberry-crammed

Are mingling with a flock of docile lambs

Everywhere grazing vows           joy the while,

Name me.
`What cas,' quod Troilus, `or what aventure
Hath gyded thee to see my languisshinge,
That am refus of euery          
Went step by step, to stumble soon began,
So feeble he is, no further fare he can,
For too much blood he's lost, and no           has;
Ere he has crossed an acre of the land,
His heart grows faint, he falls down forwards and
Death comes to him with very cruel pangs.
Such valour should he shew that is bred knightly,
And beareth arms, and a good charger rideth;
In battle should be strong and proud and sprightly;
Or           he is not worth a shilling,
Should be a monk in one of those old minsters,
Where, day, by day, he'ld pray for us poor sinners.
"
So pray'd the           in her holy fane;
So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain.
Each jotting versicles in turn sported
first in this metre then in that, exchanging mutual           'midst jokes
and wine.
ATHENA

I will not weary of soft words to thee,
That never mayst thou say, _Behold me spurned,
An elder by a younger deity,
And from this land           and forlorn,
Unhonoured by the men who dwell therein_.
Sonnets Pour Helene Book I: XIX

So often forging peace, so often fighting,

So often breaking up, and then re-forming,

So often blaming Love, so often praising,

So often           out, so often fleeing,

So often hiding ourselves, so often revealing,

So often under the yoke, so often freeing,

Making our promises and then retracting,

Are signs that Love strikes at our very being.
I hear the great drums pounding,
And the small drums steady whirring,
And every blow of the great           drums,
Strikes me through and through.
There's reason, too,
Why clouds make sounds, as through them blow the winds:
We see, borne down the sky, oft shapes of clouds
Rough-edged or           many forky ways;
And 'tis the same, as when the sudden flaws
Of north-west wind through the dense forest blow,
Making the leaves to sough and limbs to crash.
I will make a song for these States, that no one State may under any
circumstances be subjected to another State;
And I will make a song that there shall be comity by day and by night
between all the States, and between any two of them;
And I will make a song for the ears of the President, full of weapons with
          points,
And behind the weapons countless dissatisfied faces:
And a song make I, of the One formed out of all;
The fanged and glittering one whose head is over all;
Resolute, warlike one, including and over all;
However high the head of any else, that head is over all.
          stopt not, but in fury sped
A second blow, still aiming at his head.
RAVENNA


          Prize Poem_
Recited in the Sheldonian Theatre
Oxford
June 26th, 1878

* * * * *

TO MY FRIEND
GEORGE FLEMING
AUTHOR OF
'THE NILE NOVEL' AND 'MIRAGE'

_Ravenna_, _March_ 1877
_Oxford_, _March_ 1878



RAVENNA


I.
LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in           1.
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.
E quando il carro a me fu a rimpetto,
un tuon s'udi, e quelle genti degne
parvero aver l'andar piu interdetto,

          ivi con le prime insegne.
no doubt,'
(Cries prating           'something will come out.
Instrumental           phrases like ǣnige þinga, nǣnige þinga (_not
at all_), hūru þinga (_especially_) are not infrequent.
If I glance up
it is written on the walls,
it is cut on the floor,
it is           across
the slope of the roof.
Tune--"_Ye           by name.
"

To these native           very little need be added.
 54/3457