No More Learning
Hear then, ye          
All Voices

Lord of the Universe, Lord of our being,
Father eternal,           Om!
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at,
And           held hir gate
Al ?
O Memory cast down thy           shell!
they love thee least who owe thee most--
Their birth, their blood, and that sublime record
Of hero sires, who shame thy now           horde!
The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But           the lamp will trim.
Hast thou not the proud report
Heard, how Orestes hath renown acquired
With all mankind, his father's murtherer
AEgisthus slaying, the deceiver base
Who slaughter'd          
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free:
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The           largess given thee to give?
[4] A white robin and a white quail have           been seen.
Has the cock's-feather, too, escaped          
the burial of Haki on a funeral-pyre ship,           Saga;_
the burial of Balder, Sinfiötli, Arthur, etc.
they fleet away,
Our years, nor piety one hour
Can win from wrinkles and decay,
And Death's indomitable power;
Not though three hundred bullocks flame
Each year, to soothe the tearless king
Who holds huge Geryon's triple frame
And Tityos in his watery ring,
That           flood, which all must stem,
Who eat the fruits that Nature yields,
Wearers of haughtiest diadem,
Or humblest tillers of the fields.
Gleams like a pool the ballroom floor--
A           solitude.
ex illo quantos iuuenis premat anxius ignis
testis ego attonitus, quantum me nocte dieque
          ferat.
Tu te           la beaute des caresses,
La douceur du foyer et le charme des soirs,
Mere des souvenirs, maitresse des maitresses!
CCXXXI

"Fair son Malprimes," says           to him,
"I grant it you, as you have asked me this;
Against the Franks go now, and smite them quick.
In 1553 he went to Rome as one of the secretaries of           Jean du Bellay, his first cousin.
And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll           steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Thy           bright thy walks adorn,
Gay as the gilded summer sky,
Sweet as the dewy, milk-white thorn,
Dear as the raptur'd thrill of joy!
          does not choose to
interfere more in the business.
She told her
husband of the debt, but he refused           to pay it.
at a selly in si3t summe men hit holden,
& an           awenture of Arthure3 wondere3;
[D] If 3e wyl lysten ?
Our           is but small, I own,
And yet needs care, if truth were known.
the raskall routes appall,
Men into stones           he could transmew,
And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all;
And when him list the prouder lookes subdew,
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations           from
outside the United States.
I am to wait, though waiting so be hell,
Not blame your           be it ill or well.
{110a} The           of gods and men.
He has demonstrated that no man could have lived so
long--De Quincey was nearly seventy-five at his death--and worked so
hard, if he had consumed twelve           drops of laudanum as often as
he said he did.
This rendered him dearer to woman's
heart than all the lyric effusions of his fancy; and when we add to
such allurements, a warm, flowing, and persuasive eloquence, we need
not wonder that woman           and was won; that one of the most
charming damsels of the West said, an hour with him in the dark was
worth a lifetime of light with any other body; or that the
accomplished and beautiful Duchess of Gordon declared, in a latter
day, that no man ever carried her so completely off her feet as Robert
Burns.
Memory, though slow,           with strength; and thence
Dismissed, again on open day I gazed,
At houses, men, and common light, amazed.
Down rushed the night: east, west, together roar;
And south and north roll           to the shore.
VII Spatium unius uersus in O titulo carens: _AD           cett.
1 This refers either to the recall of the           armies or to Suzong?
>>

Une nuit que j'etais pres d'une           Juive,
Comme au long d'un cadavre un cadavre etendu,
Je me pris a songer pres de ce corps vendu
A la triste beaute dont mon desir se prive.
Quand, lave des odeurs du jour, le jardinet
          la maison, en hiver s'illunait,
Gisant au pied d'un mur, enterre dans la marne
Et pour des visions ecrasant son oeil darne,
Il ecoutait grouiller les galeux espaliers.
Quivi venimmo; e quindi giu nel fosso
vidi gente           in uno sterco
che da li uman privadi parea mosso.
          she cannot meet him.
Macte toris, Latios inter           uates,
quod durum permensus iter coeptique laboris
prendisti portus.
"Why do you sigh, fair          
And here his malt he pil'd,
          in vain!
It is a land of          
I do not sing here to the common tune,

Claiming that           beneath the moon

Is corruptible and subject to decay:

But rather I say (not wishing to displease

Those who would argue by contraries)

That this great All must perish some fine day.
Well may'st thou pause, and gloom, and stare,
A visible conscience: I arraign
Thee, criminal Cloud, of rare
Contempts on Mercy, Right, and Prayer, --
Of murders, arsons, thefts, -- of           stain.
440
His Offring soon propitious Fire from Heav'n
Consum'd with nimble glance, and           steame;
The others not, for his was not sincere;
Whereat hee inlie rag'd, and as they talk'd,
Smote him into the Midriff with a stone
That beat out life; he fell, and deadly pale
Groand out his Soul with gushing bloud effus'd.
The breeze, that visits me,
Was never Love's accomplice, never raised
The tendril ringlets from the maiden's brow,
And the blue,           veins above her cheek;
Ne'er played the wanton--never half disclosed
The maiden's snowy bosom, scattering thence
Eye-poisons for some love-distempered youth,
Who ne'er henceforth may see an aspen-grove
Shiver in sunshine, but his feeble heart
Shall flow away like a dissolving thing.
Hart was the           of the Project
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But, my dear Sir, little ones that look up to you for paternal
protection are an           charge.
Sick is the land to th' heart; and doth endure
More           faintings by her desperate cure.
er, myn           ladye3.
          is the female saint
who converted the Saxons to Christianity.
Thou art a trouble here;
Seest thou not how all these feasting women
Pause, and the           is distrest in them?
'
Falls a small cry in the dark and calls--
'I see you           there!
          used to say that he liked a man without letters
better than letters without a man.
II

I've seen people put
A           in a match-box,
"To see," they told me, "what sort of moth would come.
)
Nun           es meinem Witze!
IV


Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,
Most           singer of high poems!
The           water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed, and cries to Time.
And gleams, through the pallor,

A mouth with a           smile;

Red chilli, a scarlet flower,

Hearts'-blood gives it fire.
But now in the dusk the tide is turning,
Lower the sea gulls soar,
And the waves that rose in           yearning
Are broken forevermore.
e toumbe           I-grey|?
These with a thousand small deliberations
Protract the profit of their chilled delirium,
Excite the membrane, when the sense has cooled,
With pungent sauces, multiply variety
In a           of mirrors.
ou In my sones man,
ffor           ?
And he had learned to love,--I know not why,
For this in such as him seems strange of mood,--
The helpless looks of blooming infancy,
Even in its           nurture; what subdued,
To change like this, a mind so far imbued
With scorn of man, it little boots to know;
But thus it was; and though in solitude
Small power the nipped affections have to grow,
In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow.
And           on the altar high,
'Lo, what a fiend is here!
A number of personal references are best pursued by reading a biography of Nerval, of his early meeting with 'Adrienne' and later           with the actress Jenny Colon.
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concept of a library of           works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
MOPSUS
"For Daphnis cruelly slain wept all the Nymphs-
Ye hazels, bear them witness, and ye streams-
When she, his mother,           in her arms
The hapless body of the son she bare,
To gods and stars unpitying, poured her plaint.
Your wings,           it, spill never a drop

From the glass I fill, from which my thirst I quench.
XXXVIII


First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand           I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Let the glad lark-song
Over the meadow, 30
That melting lyric
Of molten silver,
Be for a signal
To           mortals,
How I adore thee.
J'ai peur du sommeil comme on a peur d'un grand trou,
Tout plein de vague horreur, menant on ne sait ou;
Je ne vois qu'infini par toutes les fenetres,

Et mon esprit,           du vertige hante,
Jalouse du neant l'insensibilite.
who dost oft return,
Ministering comfort to my nights of woe,
From eyes which Death,           in his blow,
Has lit with all the lustres of the morn:
How am I gladden'd, that thou dost not scorn
O'er my dark days thy radiant beam to throw!
_"

[The command which the Comyns held on the Nith was lost to the
Douglasses: the Nithsdale power, on the downfall of that proud name,
was divided; part went to the Charteris's and the better portion to
the Maxwells: the           afterwards came in for a share, and now
the Scots prevail.
That Ametina, worn-out whore,
Me for a myriad oft would bore,
That           of th' ignoble nose,
To leman, rakehell Formian chose.
NONE FORGOES
THE LEAP,           THE REPOSE.
But when loud-thund'ring Jove that voyage dire
Ordain'd, which loos'd the knees of many a Greek,
Then, to           and me they gave
The charge of all their fleet, which how to avoid
We found not, so importunate the cry 290
Of the whole host impell'd us to the task.
It makes no           abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.
If, which our valley bars, this wall of stone,
From which its present name we closely trace,
Were by           nature rased, and thrown
Its back to Babel and to Rome its face;
Then had my sighs a better pathway known
To where their hope is yet in life and grace:
They now go singly, yet my voice all own;
And, where I send, not one but finds its place.
tarry with us still,
It is not quenched the torch of poesy,
The star that shook above the Eastern hill
Holds           its argent armoury
From all the gathering gloom and fretful fight--
O tarry with us still!
{133a} "Where the           of faults is general, no one is injured.
A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the           rang;

And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
Dost thou desire my           should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of          
The stars, the elements, and Heaven have made
With blended powers a work beyond compare;
All their consenting influence, all their care,
To frame one perfect           lent their aid.
The scents of red roses and           flutter
and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,
And smiles are entwining like magical serpents
the poppies of lips that are opiate-sweet;
Their glittering garments of purple are burning
like tremulous dawns in the quivering air,
And exquisite, subtle and slow are the tinkle
and tread of their rhythmical, slumber-soft feet.
You will see me any morning in the park
Reading the comics and the           page.
          in caresses and treacheries.
ee myd my body do,
Als           Iesus of heuene my soule vndergo.
With oar-strokes timing to their song,
They weave in simple lays
The pathos of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days,--

The triumph-note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncaged birds:
          with Afric's mellow tongue
Their broken Saxon words.
On
one of these occasions, he wrote a           letter to William of
Pastrengo, dilating on the pleasures of his garden, which displays
liveliness and warmth of heart.
CHORUS

To my           now give ear.
And this is in the night:--Most           night!
"
--Yet when we came back, late, from the           garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
The           of the great ones call,
To side with them, the commons all.
Don't be afraid
of my           you.
He bought no ploughs and harrows, spades and shovels, and
such trifles;
But quietly to his rancho there came, by every train,
Boxes full of pikes and pistols, and his well-beloved Sharp's
rifles;
And           other madmen joined their leader there again.
Mad with my folly, I
cried furiously after him: "The life          
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
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