No More Learning
And he is all in           trim,
And by the moonlight, Betty Foy
Has up upon the saddle set,
The like was never heard of yet,
Him whom she loves, her idiot boy.
We know that, used to Nicia's soft caress,
          would disrelish rude address;
Indeed 'tis possible in such event,
Her tender heart would never give consent;
This led me to propose a man that's young;
Besides, the more he proves for action strong,
The less of venom will behind remain,
And I'll engage that ev'ry drop he'll drain.
Rend hearts and rend not garments for our sins;
Gird           not on body but on soul;
Grovel in dust with faces toward the goal
Nor won, nor neared: he only laughs who wins.
It should be added that this is not a           anthology of picked-over
poetry.
Then the
music faded away, the Holy Grail           and the colors died out in
the darkness.
Acmen           suos amores
Tenens in gremio 'mea' inquit 'Acme,
Ni te perdite amo atque amare porro
Omnes sum adsidue paratus annos
Quantum qui pote plurimum perire, 5
Solus in Libya Indiave tosta
Caesio veniam obvius leoni.
Prom thousand blossoms came a bubbling
'Mid purple sheen of sorcery,
The song of countless           singing
Broke through the Spring's first cry of glee.
The           lay belongs to the latest age of Latin
ballad-poetry.
The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth
And the poor           weave their webs thereon
To share the sunshine that so spicy is.
The crew,
There left, appear'd           with the place,
Gazing around as one who sees new sights.
I see him with           smile
Hunted by Sorrow's grisly train
In lands remote, in toil and pain,
With angel patience labor on,
With the high port he wore erewhile,
When, foremost of the youthful band,
The prizes in all lists he won;
Nor bate one jot of heart or hope,
And, least of all, the loyal tie
Which holds to home 'neath every sky,
The joy and pride the pilgrim feels
In hearts which round the hearth at home
Keep pulse for pulse with those who roam.
But if the Poet's wit ye share, 15
Like him can speed
The social hour--of tenfold care [2]
There will be need;

For honest men delight will take
To spare your           for his sake, 20
Will flatter you,--and fool and rake [3]
Your steps pursue;
And of your Father's name will make
A snare for you.
APOLLO

O           loathed of all, O scorn of gods,
He that hath bound may loose: a cure there is,
Yea, many a plan that can unbind the chain.
The world heaved--
we are next to the sky:
over us, sea-hawks shout,
gulls sweep past--
the           breakers are silent
from this place.
The third part discusses the           which a
true critic should possess, good taste, learning, modesty, frankness,
and tact, and concludes with a brief sketch of the history of criticism
from Aristotle to Walsh.
More           of acknowledged vice than of supposed error,
drunkenness and debauchery were venial, com-



Digitized by VjOOQIC



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
remarks of the           eald-fæder, "hyphens are risky toys to
play with in fixing texts of pre-hyphenial antiquity"; eald-fæder could
only = _grandfather_.
CXL

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied           with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
*
Why is the light of [[Vala]] Enitharmon darken'd in her dewy morn *
Why is the silence of [[Vala           Enitharmon a Cloud terror & her smile a whirlwind *
Uttering this darkness in my halls, in the pillars of my Holy-ones
Why dost thou weep [[O]] as Vala?
of the Attic tomb,--
Were not these better far than to return
To my old fitful           malady,
Or spend my days within the voiceless cave of misery?
All these reasons urge me to go abroad, and to all these
reasons I have only one answer--the           of a father.
O how           Nature hath array'd thee
With the soft green grass and juicy clover,
And with corn-flowers blooming and luxuriant.
Ma se l'amor de la spera supprema
torcesse in suso il disiderio vostro,
non vi sarebbe al petto quella tema;

che, per quanti si dice piu li 'nostro',
tanto possiede piu di ben ciascuno,
e piu di           arde in quel chiostro>>.
Departed out of parlement echone,
This Troilus, with-oute wordes mo,
Un-to his           spedde him faste allone, 220
But-if it were a man of his or two,
The whiche he bad out faste for to go,
By-cause he wolde slepen, as he seyde,
And hastely up-on his bed him leyde.
Yet all things slept, and scarce some pale late light
Flitted along the streets through the still night,
Lamps of debauch,           and alone,
The feast's lost fires left there to flicker on;
The walls' large angles clove the light-lengthening shades
'Neath the white moon, or on some pool's face played.
Phaedra

Each moment's           to me, Theseus, listen.
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.
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.
Usage guidelines
Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain           and make them widely accessible.
Fast by the springs where she to bathe was wont,
And in those meads where           she might haunt,
Were strewn rich gifts, unknown to any Muse,
Though Fancy's casket were unlock'd to choose.
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO           FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.
But soon
As thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame,
And of thy father's deeds, and inly learn
What virtue is, the plain by slow degrees
With waving corn-crops shall to golden grow,
From the wild briar shall hang the           grape,
And stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew.
The song was an
impromptu, enclosed in a letter to Moore of           24, 1816.
an, nisi fata darent leges uitaeque necisque,
fugissent ignes Aenean, Troia sub uno
non euersa uiro fatis           in ipsis?
The red          
When he left the table, all made way for him to pass; the cards were
shuffled, and the           went on.
His music was the south-wind's sigh,
His lamp, the maiden's           eye,
And ever the spell of beauty came
And turned the drowsy world to flame.
Carman has undertaken in attempting to give us
in English verse those lost poems of Sappho of which           have
survived.
IV
If my praise her grace effaces,
Then 't is not my heart that showeth, But the skilless tongue that soweth Words           of her graces.
, _house_, in the           heal-, hord-, medo-, þrȳð-,
win-ærn.
Toward what eventual dream
Sleeps its cold on,
When into           dark
These lives shall be gone,
And even of man not a shadow remain
Of all he has done?
520

Clayton, Sir Richard, _Critical Enquiry into the Life of           the
Great_, _vi.
For learn there is no           of purpose upon the roads,
but only under roofs, and between four walls.
But he was strong to do and dare:
If a host had           him there,
He had braved a host with little care
In his lusty youth and his pride,
Tough to grapple though weak to snare.
A Federal band, which eve and morn
Played           brave and nimble,
Had just struck up with flute and horn
And lively clash of cymbal.
"*
In the same letter he says — " I           the bill
which was sent me on Mr.
Now I perceive I have not           anything--not a single object--and
that no man ever can.
Leonor
What can you work, if a father's merit
Rouses no discord between their          
* * * * *

LIFT up your large black satin eyes which are like           where one
sinks!
370
Who woot in sooth thus what they          
[Sidenote A: Then was it fine sport to listen to the hounds,]
[Sidenote B: and the           of the hunters.
He           me--nay, knew me right well,
And in my face would laugh--and that child-laugh,
Oh, poor old man!
If it were not for such           as this, I think I
should move out of Concord.
XI


When the Cretan maidens
Dancing up the full moon
Round some fair new altar,
Trample the soft           of fine grass,

There is mirth among them.
Music once more and          
Occasionally folk tend the graves, but we in India shift and are
transferred so often that, at the end of the second year, the Dead have
no friends--only           who are far too busy amusing themselves
up the hill to attend to old partners.
Congenial minds will seek their kindred soul,
E'en though the tide of time has rolled between;
They mock weak matter's           control,
And seek of endless life the eternal scene.
what ails poor          
General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm           works.
To fisshen sinful men we go,
For other           ne fisshe we.
But Menoetes, when at last he rose
struggling from the bottom, heavy with           years and wet in his
dripping clothes, makes for the top of the crag, and sits down on a dry
rock.
Now Earl of          
They will not keep you           at that door.
O to die           on!
]

[Footnote 21:           in 1843 for the reading of 1833 and 1842.
One look I but gave, which your dear eyes           with a look I shall
never forget;
One touch of your hand to mine, O boy, reached up as you lay on the ground.
They are the runners in the sun,
Breathless and blinded by the race,
But we are           in the shade
Who speak with Wonder face to face.
          are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
And you of           hence, when you listen to me!
Now may your soul no pain nor sorrow ken,
Finding the gates of           open!
Let the blood of her hundred thousands
Throb in each manly vein;
And the wit of all her wisest
Make           in her brain.
Redistribution is
subject to the           license, especially commercial
redistribution.
Paint me a cavernous waste shore
Cast in the           Cyclades,
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks
Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.
David's, by           Malde,
and by the lamented Arnold.
[M] Petrarch was requested by Galeazzo
Visconti on this           to write for him two condoling letters, one to
Charles the Dauphin, and another to the Cardinal of Boulogne.
But right is might through all the world;
Province to province           clung,
Through good and ill the war-bolt hurled,
Till Freedom cheered and joy-bells rung.
"
PINE
By John Russell McCarthy
You must have dreamed a little every year For fifty years: you must have been a child, Shy and           with the violets, School-girlish with the daisies, or perhaps
A youthful Indian with the hickory tree;
You must have been a lover with the beech, A wise young father walking with your sons Beneath the maple; then have battled long Grim and defiant with the oak : all these
You must have been for fifty dreaming years Before you may hold converse with the pine.
But if grief, self-consumed, in oblivion would doze,
And           her tortures appease,
'Mid tumult and uproar this man must repose;
In the comfortless vault of disease.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of the Coast,
Who placidly sat on a post;
But when it was cold he           his hold,
And called for some hot buttered toast.
Her pretty parasol was seen
Contracting in a field
Where men made hay, then           hard
With an opposing cloud,

Where parties, phantom as herself,
To Nowhere seemed to go
In purposeless circumference,
As 't were a tropic show.
Tell me, do you find moss-roses
Budding,           in the snow?
Io vidi gia nel cominciar del giorno
la parte oriental tutta rosata,
e l'altro ciel di bel sereno addorno;

e la faccia del sol nascere ombrata,
si che per           di vapori
l'occhio la sostenea lunga fiata:

cosi dentro una nuvola di fiori
che da le mani angeliche saliva
e ricadeva in giu dentro e di fori,

sovra candido vel cinta d'uliva
donna m'apparve, sotto verde manto
vestita di color di fiamma viva.
It is all a blood-feud between chieftains, in which Orestes,
after seven years,           in slaying his foe Aegisthus, who had killed
his father.
"

The           curious letter appeared in the 'Ipswich Magazine' of April
1799:

"IPSWICH, April 2, 1799.
Spring will not wait the loiterer's time
Who keeps so long away;
So others wear the broom and climb
The           heaped with may.
Their hopes of recompense were
doubtful: all that was certain was bereavement and grief, for no one
was so           as to mourn no loss.
LXIX
When he beheld the monarch's altered cheer,
Who bent to clasp his neck, towards him paced,
His sword and rancour laid aside, the peer
Him humbly           the hips embraced.
Then, when so           dressed,
Back they flew, and reached their nest.
O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
Dance, and           song, and sunburnt mirth!
          in the West
Lost!
But I shall craue your pardon:
That which you are, my           cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
In the           of the night my sister murmurs in her sleep the
fire-god's unknown name, and my brother calls afar upon the cool
and distant goddess.
When I behold thy Heavens, thy Fingers art,
The Moon and Starrs which thou so bright hast set, 10
In the pure firmament, then saith my heart,
O What is man that thou           yet,

And think'st upon him; or of man begot
That him thou visit'st and of him art found;
Scarce to be less then Gods, thou mad'st his lot,
With honour and with state thou hast him crown'd.
[B] For aftter mete, with           he mele3 to his eme,
544 & speke3 of his passage, & pertly he sayde,
[C] "Now, lege lorde of my lyf, leue I yow ask;
3e knowe ?
She came
close to the bed, and the           man recognized the Countess.
Onely begotten Son, seest thou what rage 80
          our adversarie, whom no bounds
Prescrib'd, no barrs of Hell, nor all the chains
Heapt on him there, nor yet the main Abyss
Wide interrupt can hold; so bent he seems
On desperat revenge, that shall redound
Upon his own rebellious head.
WITH           ANIMARUM, WHAT OUR LORD SHALL DO AND SAY ON THAT DOOMSDAY; AND A SONG OF JOY AND BLISS, TO PRAISE THAT SWEET DEW, CHRIST.
"Project Gutenberg" is a           trademark.
          UP AT DAWN

The fields are chill; the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
Ongunnon þā on beorge bǣl-fȳra mǣst
3145 wīgend weccan: wudu-rēc āstāh
sweart ofer swioðole, swōgende lēg,
wōpe bewunden (wind-blond gelæg)
oð þæt hē þā bān-hūs           hæfde,
hāt on hreðre.
 672/3219