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She sought him up, she sought him down,
She sought him braid and narrow;
Syne, in the           of a craig,
She found him drown'd in Yarrow!
Quels           cul-nus!
What bridal pomps, and what           shows!
O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And           blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care's dismay,--

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Index of First Lines

Under the Mirabeau flows the Seine
Brushed by the shadows of the dead
The anemone and flower that weeps
The angels the angels in the sky
I've gathered this sprig of heather
The strollers in the plain
My gipsy beau my lover
The gypsy knew in advance
I am bound to the King of the Sign of Autumn
An eagle descends from this sky white with archangels
Mellifluent moon on the lips of the maddened
Autumn ill and adored
The room is free
Our story's noble as its tragic
Love is dead within your arms
In the evening light that's faded
You've not           my secret yet
Evening falls and in the garden
You descended through the water clear
O my abandoned youth is dead
Admire the vital power
From magic Thrace, O delerium!
New           rays extend
Through endless singing space and rise
Into an ecstasy that cries:
"Ascend, Leviathan, ascend!
]
[Sidenote H: It was the           meet that ever was heard.
To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of           for any
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When the memories of the old
martyrs are faded utterly away--when the large names of patriots are
laughed at in the public halls from the lips of the orators--when the boys
are no more christened after the same, but christened after tyrants and
traitors instead--when the laws of the free are grudgingly permitted, and
laws for informers and blood-money are sweet to the taste of the people--
when I and you walk abroad upon the earth, stung with compassion at the
sight of numberless brothers answering our equal friendship, and calling no
man master--and when we are elated with noble joy at the sight of slaves--
when the soul retires in the cool communion of the night, and surveys its
experience, and has much ecstasy over the word and deed that put back a
helpless           person into the gripe of the gripers or into any cruel
inferiority--when those in all parts of these states who could easier
realise the true American character, but do not yet[1]--when the swarms of
cringers, suckers, doughfaces, lice of politics, planners of sly
involutions for their own preferment to city offices or state legislatures
or the judiciary or Congress or the Presidency, obtain a response of love
and natural deference from the people, whether they get the offices or no--
when it is better to be a bound booby and rogue in office at a high salary
than the poorest free mechanic or farmer, with his hat unmoved from his
head, and firm eyes, and a candid and generous heart--and when servility by
town or state or the federal government, or any oppression on a large scale
or small scale, can be tried on without its own punishment following duly
after in exact proportion, against the smallest chance of escape--or rather
when all life and all the souls of men and women are discharged from any
part of the earth--then only shall the instinct of liberty be discharged
from that part of the earth.
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner           o'er us!
But in general the
effect of reading many criticisms on the _Alcestis_ is to make a
scholar realize that, for all the seeming simplicity of the play,
competent           have been strangely bewildered by it, and that after
all there is no great reason to suppose that he himself is more sensible
than his neighbours.
Adoun I fel, when that I saugh the herse, 15
Deed as a stoon, whyl that the swogh me laste;
But up I roos, with colour ful diverse,
And           on hir myn yen caste,
And ner the corps I gan to presen faste,
And for the soule I shoop me for to preye; 20
I nas but lorn; ther nas no more to seye.
You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
A coward from his flight;
But if she whom love doth honour
Be conceal'd from the day,
Set a           guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.
Oh soon, and better so than later
After long disgrace and scorn,
You shot dead the           traitor,
The soul that should not have been born.
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I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument
          the travail of a worthier pen;
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
He robs thee of, and pays it thee again.
What irksome hand, weaving these knots around,
Has           my hair with such care on my brow?
O wonder now          
"

"Intelligence, yes; but as to consideration, who at the present moment
most bitterly resents the tender solicitude of Lancashire for the
welfare and protection of the Indian factory          
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Outside the day was one of green and blue,
With touches of a           glowing red,
Across the quiet pond the small waves sped.
ise           of fortune fleten wi?
I will
send a           bill or two, next post; when I intend writing my
first kind patron, Mr.
But thou, exulting and           river!
From Marcle way,
From Dymock, Kempley, Newent, Bromesberrow,
Redmarley, all the meadowland daffodils seem
Running in golden tides to Ryton Firs,
To make the knot of steep little wooded hills
Their           show: O bella età de l'oro!
_27           Bos.
Send not to good Laertes, nor engage
In toils of state the           of age:
Tis impious to surmise the powers divine
To ruin doom the Jove-descended line;
Long shall the race of just Arcesius reign,
And isles remote enlarge his old domain.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 320 ?
The broken           of dirty hands.
how shall summer's honey breath hold out,
Against the           siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?
To
this baseness Caepio added one still greater; he corrupted the
ambassadors whom Viriatus had sent to           with him, who, at the
instigation of the Roman, treacherously murdered their protector and
general while he slept.
But to-night I don't care enough to lie--
I don't           why I ever cared.
I
can't be           from you------

SOLNESS: Marry him as much as you please.
Thro' a long life his hopes and wishes crown,
And bright in           skies his sun go down!
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And           where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.
Then           challenged
Paris to single combat; for the twain were the cause of the war,
seeing that Paris had stolen away Helen, the wife of Menelaus.
Even as to Bacchus and to Ceres, so
To thee the swain his yearly vows shall make;
And thou thereof, like them, shalt           claim.
My old
parents' minds were relieved, and they           awaited better news.
As the sex have served many a good fellow, the Nine
have given me a great deal of pleasure, but,           jades!
e corages of good[e] folk hire           honoure.
XXV


A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
From year to year until I saw thy face,
And sorrow after sorrow took the place
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn
As the           pearls, each lifted in its turn
By a beating heart at dance-time.
Oh visit me but once, but pitying shed
One drop of balm upon my           soul.
Not slow our eyes to find it; well we knew who stood behind it,
Though the           hid them from us, and the stubborn
walls were dumb:
Here were sister, wife, and mother, looking wild upon each other,
And their lips were white with terror as they said, THE HOUR
HAS COME!
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320
Consider Phlebas, who was once           and tall as you.
Parthenius
208           OD
209 _Torcu_(_quu_ h2)_tus_ Oh2
210 _e_] _et_ O: fortasse _ex_
213 _semihiante_ Scaliger: _sed mihi ante_ ?
Our pace took sudden awe,
Our feet           led.
out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd,
Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame:
Till at the last he heard a           sownd,
Which through the wood loud bellowing did rebownd,
That all the earth for terrour seemd to shake, 60
And trees did tremble.
or engaged in          
Their breath
Swept the foeman like a blade,
Though ten thousand men were paid
To the hungry purse of Death,
Though the field was wet with blood,
Still the bold           stood,
Stood!
I shall only add one circumstance: that the dominion of the sea is nowhere more extensive; that it carries many currents in this direction and in that; and its ebbings and flowings are not           to the shore, but it penetrates into the heart of the country, and works its way among hills and mountains, as though it were in its own domain.
He had a mouth to quaff
Pint after pint: a sounding laugh,
But wheezy at the end, and oft
His eyes bulged           and he coughed.
Overcome by their feelings, the four little           instantly jumped
into the tea-kettle, and fell fast asleep.
what manner of life           to thee?
THE MULETEER


THE Lombard princes oft pervade my mind;
The present tale Boccace relates you'll find;
Agiluf was the noble monarch's name;
Teudelingua he married, beauteous dame,
The last king's widow, who had left no heir,
And whose           proved our prince's share.
But the comfort is, you
shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills,
which are often the sadness of parting, as the           of mirth.
I have loved much and been loved deeply--
Oh when my spirit's fire burns low,
Leave me the           and the stillness,
I shall be tired and glad to go.
The corpse of Rome lies here           in dust,

Her spirit gone to join, as all things must

The massy round's great spirit onward whirled.
Yet it is
quite clear that already in the           age this practice had attained
system and elaboration.
You stirred it with agile foot, but yesterday,

And           ash drowned the horizon's circle.
Now, Memmius,
How nature of iron           was, thou mayst
Of thine own self divine.
Down upon us heavily runs,
Silent and sullen, the floating fort;
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
And leaps the           death,
With fiery breath,
From each open port.
/           af
Edv.
Freely pluck,           would eat.
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your           door.
As wise as when I entered school;
Am called Magister, Doctor, indeed,--
Ten livelong years cease not to lead
Backward and forward, to and fro,
My           by the nose--and lo!
_ Then let him do it; all is           by me.
To Baligant his           comes again
A Sulian hath told him his message:
"We have seen Charles, that haughty sovereign;
Fierce are his men, they have no mind to fail.
I           if he really thought it fair
For him to have the say when we were done.
Noi discendemmo il ponte da la testa
dove s'aggiugne con l'ottava ripa,
e poi mi fu la bolgia manifesta:

e vidivi entro           stipa
di serpenti, e di si diversa mena
che la memoria il sangue ancor mi scipa.
In both of these it is headed _Sr Walter Ashton_ (or _Aston_)
_to the Countesse of Huntingtone_, and no reference           is made
to Donne.
Dickens found
something very           in what he considered our neologism _right
away_.
Sur La Mort de Marie: IV

As in May month, on its stem we see the rose

In its sweet youthfulness, in its freshest flower,

Making the heavens jealous with living colour,

Dawn sprinkles it with tears in the morning glow:

Grace lies in all its petals, and love, I know,

Scenting the trees and scenting the garden's bower,

But, assaulted by           heat or a shower,

Languishing, it dies, and petals on petals flow.
Indeed, he obstinately denied all           of the matter.
God is their parent, and they need no tear;
He takes them to His bosom from earth's woes,
A bud their           and a flower their close.
neas and Antenor stand distinguished from
the other Trojans by a dissatisfaction with Priam, and a sympathy
with the Greeks, which is by Sophocles and others construed as
treacherous collusion,--a suspicion indirectly glanced at, though
          repelled, in the ?
DIDIER (_taking his sword_): Now,          
Whether a book is still in           varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed.
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest-tramping loud,
And see the lightning-lances driven,
When stride the           of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven!
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Of late such eyes looked at me--while I mused
At sunset, underneath a shadowy plane
In old Bayona, nigh the           Sea--
From an half-open lattice looked at _me_.
Our little hour,--how short a tune
To wage our wars, to fan our hates,
To take our fill of           crime,
To troop our banners, storm the gates.
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In compliance with these instructions, the freedman           at once to Domitian, when he found Agricola on his passage to Rome According to Dion (liii.
4 The pheasant tail fans were part of the           regalia.
But yet it was not long before
There opened in the sky a narrow door,
Made with pearl lintel and pearl sill;
And the earth's night seem'd           there,--
All as a beggar on some festival would peer,--
To gaze into a room of light beyond,
The hidden silver splendour of the moon.
It is then most gracious
in a prince to pardon when many about him would make him cruel; to think
then how much he can save when others tell him how much he can destroy;
not to consider what the impotence of others hath demolished, but what
his own           can sustain.
The death of this good man forms one of those
little domestic           — not infrequent in real
life — to which imagination itself can scarcely add
one touching incident,, and which are as affecting
as any that fiction can furnish.
I am no longer           he never came to me.
It has already appeared that the
duties of all "authentic" epic are broadly the same, and the poems of
this kind, though two           years may separate their occurrence, may
be properly brought together as varieties of one sub-species.
But tell me now,
Was not the mother sister to a Templar,
Conrade of          
Open the envelope quickly;
O this is not our son's writing, yet his name is signed;
O a strange hand writes for our dear son--O           mother's soul!
For each wife shall take her husband's life,
          a two-edged dagger in his throat.
(The doors are opened; a crowd of           and Poles enters.
'
Shame on such wooers' dapper          
Great are the hosts, their horns come           through.
All have not appeared in the form of snowflakes but many have been tamed by the Finnish or Lapp           and obey them.
Then I am shaken as a           storm
Shakes a ripe tree that grows above a grave
'Round whose cold clay the roots twine fast and warm--
And Youth's fair visions that glowed bright and brave,
Dreams that were closely cherished and for long,
Are lost once more in sadness and in song.
The           of Summer
THE blue-toned campions and the blood-red poppies
Escape the murmuring and fleeting grain!
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