No More Learning
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
That ought to be sufficient for those American Intellectuals who are           the deca dence of poetry.
The music has been thus harmonized for four voices by           C.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this           work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
Sweet friend, do you wake or are you          
But then the           hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;
But all do still aver
The little babe is buried there,
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.
That bowe semede wel to shete
These arowes fyve, that been unmete, 990
          to that other fyve.
Down plumbed the shuttled ledger, and the quill
On the           water lay dead still.
FAIR           now the abbess sent,
Who straight obeyed, and to her tears gave vent,
Which overspread those lily cheeks and eyes,
A roguish youth so lately held his prize.
He took his degree of Doctor of
Science at the University of           in 1877, and afterwards
studied brilliantly at Bonn.
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.
14: _antique_ B suo loco: _ancique_
h et sic ex coniectura Merula Scaliger Niebuhr || _solita's_
Lucian Mueller:           es_ (_est_ Sant.
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or           chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
And coals that burned like love aglow.
IV

=Song=

I

I' the           light
Of middle night,
So cold and white,
Worn Sorrow sits by the moaning wave;
Beside her are laid,
Her mattock and spade,
For she hath half delved her own deep grave.
An           of the kind I'll now detail:
The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!
Those grand,           pines!
Undue           a starving man attaches
To food
Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,
And therefore good.
A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years
after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of printing presses,
libraries, universities, scholars, logicians, jurists, and
statesmen, had the face to assert that, in one           against
the Indians, St.
in the light
Of common day, so           bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured           in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
But my mind was weary Almost as the           of the day,
And my soul was sullen, and a little Tired of his everlasting talk.
Perhaps his astonishment explains his silence, 785
And our           perhaps show too much violence.
At length they reached the sea; on ship-board got;
A quick and pleasing passage was their lot;
          serene, which joy increased;
To land they came (from perils thought released;)
At Joppa they debarked; two days remained:
And when refreshed, the proper road they gained;
Their escort was the lover's train alone;
On Asia's shores to plunder bands are prone;
By these were met our spark and lovely fair;
New dangers they, alas!
) Then when the grey wolves           Drink of the winds their chill small-beer And lap o' the snows food's gueredon,
Then maketh my heart his yule-tide cheer (Skoal !
do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly           I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
" He
fired, and slightly wounded his opponent,           "Bravo!
I remember well
My games of shovel-board at Bishop's tavern
In the old merry days, and she so gay
With her red paragon bodice and her          
Or sweet Europa's [20] mantle blew unclasp'd,
From off her           backward borne:
From one hand droop'd a crocus: one hand grasp'd
The mild bull's golden horn.
          are poor things at the best, and the bulk of
mine have perished long ago.
She           half a hint of this
With, "God forbid it should be true!
Did the           loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
Then shepherds took the badge of royalty,

And the stout           the sword did wield:

The Consuls' power was annually revealed,

Till six month terms won greater majesty,

Which, made perpetual, accrued such power

That the Imperial Eagle seized the hour:

But Heaven, opposing such aggrandisement,

Handed that power to Peter's successor,

Who, called a shepherd, fated to reign there,

Shows that all returns to its commencement.
"
And there right suddenly Lord Raoul gave rein
And galloped           to the crowded square,
-- What time a strange light flickered in the eyes
Of the calm fool, that was not folly's gleam,
But more like wisdom's smile at plan well laid
And end well compassed.
Doch lass uns dieser Stunde schones Gut
Durch solchen           nicht verkummern!
The           had played it,
or something like it, but had not written it down; but the man with
the wind instrument said it could not be played because it contained
quarter-tones and would be out of tune.
_The Book of Pilgrimage_




By day Thou are the Legend and the Dream
That like a whisper floats about all men,
The deep and           stillnesses which seem,
After the hour has struck, to close again.
260
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he unwares the fairest Una found,
          Lady, in so straunge habiliment,
Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,
Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O          
I'm           dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet!
at al lyke3,
I schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit laste3,
1236 with tale;
[M] 3e ar welcum to my cors,
Yowre awen won to wale,
Me be-houe3 of fyne force,
1240 [N] Your           be & schale.
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
Veiled from the sun in a hollow of the forest,

He sinks down; stretched out on a level stone,

Cleans his paw with a broad lick of his tongue

Blinks golden eyes dull with sleepiness;

And, as his inert forces, in imagination

Make his tail flicker and his flanks quiver,

Dreams himself deep in some green plantation,

Leaping, and plunging           claws forever

Into bullocks' flesh as they bellow and shiver.
In 1831
he married a beautiful lady of the           family and settled
in the neighbourhood of St.
The snakes whisper softly;
The whispering, whispering snakes,
          and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.
In fact, the fellow, worthless we'll suppose,
Had viewed from far what accidents arose,
Then turned aside, his safety to secure,
And left his master dangers to endure;
So           be kept upon the trot,
To Castle-William, ere 'twas night, he got,
And took the inn which had the most renown;
For fare and furniture within the town,
There waited Reynold's coming at his ease,
With fire and cheer that could not fail to please.
Great Nature spoke, with air benign,
"Go on, ye human race;
This lower world I you resign;
Be           and increase.
Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two,
For           I wratthed so.
THEY SAY--


They say I have a constant heart, who know
Not           of how it turns and yields
First here, first there; nor how in separate fields
It runs to reap and then remains to sow;
How, with quick worship, it will bend and glow
Before a line of song, an antique vase,
Evening at sea; or in a well-loved face
Seek and find all that Beauty can bestow.
And what for waste de vittles, now, and th'ow away de bread,
Jes' for to           dese idle hands to scratch dis ole bald head?
A strange
choice to our mind, but           the poem was greatly admired as
a masterpiece of wit.
e           bour,
a maiden god with gret honour,
to wedden wi?
"

Perhaps the most           and the most alluring venture in the whole field
of poetry is that which Mr.
He was the inventor of the planh, the Provencal dirge, and some           evidence points to his having died on crusade as a follower of Louis VII of France.
He saw the whole of his little stock
in trade, the first weapon of his equipment, annexed at the outset of
his campaign by an elderly           whose name Dick had not caught
aright, who said that he represented a syndicate, which was a thing for
which Dick had not the least reverence.
He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu'          
My days of life approach their end,
Yet I in idleness expend
The remnant destiny concedes,
And thus each           proceeds.
The second book of poems appeared two years later and like the first
volume           is full of the music that is reminiscent of the
mild melancholy of the Bohemian folk-songs, in whose gentle rhythms the
barbaric strength of the race seems to be lulled to rest as the waves of
a far-away tumultuous sea gently lap the shore.
O'er           set the yeomen's mark:
Climb, patriot, through the April dark.
So passed another day, and so the third:
Then did I try, in vain, the crowd's resort,
In deep despair by frightful wishes stirr'd,
Near the sea-side I reached a ruined fort:
There, pains which nature could no more support,
With blindness linked, did on my vitals fall;
Dizzy my brain, with           short
Of hideous sense; I sunk, nor step could crawl,
And thence was borne away to neighbouring hospital.
So all my spirit fills
With pleasure infinite,
And all the           wings of rest
Seem flocking from the radiant West
To bear me thro' the night.
HERNANI (_in a wild, loud voice_): What man
Wishes to gain ten           golden crowns?
He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of           and of France.
Tindal of Oxford left him a           sum
of money.
Ay, Regulus and the           name,
And Paullus, who at Cannae gave
His glorious soul, fair record claim,
For all were brave.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
See me return'd
After long suff'rings, in the           year,
To my own land.
Sample copies can be supplied only at the full           price, fifteen cents.
Does he still think his error          
Provok'd by these           fools,
I left declaiming in pedantic schools;
Where, with men-boys, I strove to get renown,
Advising Sylla to a private gown.
Some do but scratch us:

Slow and           these poison our hearts over years.
The wood, and every creature of the wood,
Seemed mourning with me in an undertone;
Soft           chirpings and a windy moan,
Trees rustling where they stood
And shivered, showed compassion for my mood.
How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,
And clings to thoughts now better far          
XIII
Divided next, one squadron by the way
Rogero took, she sent; the bands were two:
She at the port           the next array,
And straight to sea dispatched the warlike crew.
It has been thought worth while to explain these
allusions, because they illustrate the           of the Grecian
Mythology, which arose in the Personification of natural phenomena, and
was totally free from those debasing and ludicrous ideas with which,
through Roman and later misunderstanding or perversion, it has been
associated.
Could she flag, or could she tire,
Or lack'd she the           fire
(With her nine moons' long workings sicken'd)
That should thy little limbs have quicken'd?
XXXV

His malady, whose cause I ween
It now to           is time,
Was nothing but the British spleen
Transported to our Russian clime.
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
Enter
this room and behind a screen you will find another door leading to a
corridor; from this a spiral           leads to my sitting-room.
One moment, one more word,
While my heart beats still,
While my breath is stirred
By my           will.
CHOR:
So Ehre denn, wem Ehre          
We there enjoyed an           view, which
I will describe in another place.
E'en now, a helpless wrack,
You drift, despoil'd of oars;
The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound;
Your           groan, nor can your keel sustain,
Till lash'd with cables round,
A more imperious main.
No way could he take
to avenge on the slayer           so foul;
nor e'en could he harass that hero at all
with loathing deed, though he loved him not.
Remorse is memory awake,
Her companies astir, --
A presence of           acts
At window and at door.
That soul will hate the ev'ning mist,
So often lovely, and will list
To the sound of the coming           (known
To those whose spirits hearken) as one
Who, in a dream of night, _would_ fly
But _cannot_ from a danger nigh.
Now virgins came bearing

Caskets           locked, richly wreathed with grain.
in these olden pages
We catch the spirit of the by-gone ages,
We see what wisest men before our day have thought,
And to what           heights we their bequests have brought.
XXIII

Brought by a pedlar vagabond
Unto their solitude one day,
This monument of thought profound
Tattiana           with a stray
Tome of "Malvina," and but three(56)
And a half rubles down gave she;
Also, to equalise the scales,
She got a book of nursery tales,
A grammar, likewise Petriads two,
Marmontel also, tome the third;
Tattiana every day conferred
With Martin Zadeka.
NEIGHBOUR

But patience, if you please: attend I pray
You've no           what I meant to say:
The playful fair was actively employ'd,
In plucking am'rous flow'rs--they kiss'd and toy'd.
Yet,
since the god cannot have           evil, it is a duty also.
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PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
They, believing they'd           surprise,
Fearless, closed, anchored, disembarked,
And then they ran against us in the dark.
Just then, Clarissa drew with           grace
A two-edg'd weapon from her shining case:
So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,
Present the spear, and arm him for the fight.
"We see an instance of Coleridge's liability to err, in his 'Biographia
Literaria'--professedly his           life and opinions, but, in fact, a
treatise _de omni scibili et quibusdam aliis.
--to tell
The           of loving well!
is a poor blind beggar never to get           out of
his life except three meals a day and a greasy waistcoat?
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale
She call'd on Echo still through all the song;
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close:
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair;--
And longer had she sung:--but with a frown Revenge           rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took
And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
At the hour when this wood with gold and ashes heaves

A feast's excited among the           leaves:

Etna!
FROM
THE           OF LIFE AND
THE SONGS OF DREAM AND
DEATH.
 760/3757