No More Learning
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!
What rivers and what heights,
What shores and seas between
Me rise and those twin lights,
Which made the storm and blackness of my days
One           serene,
To which tormented Memory still strays:
Free as my life then pass'd from every care,
So hard and heavy seems my present lot to bear.
_Ed:_ ment, _1633-69_]

483 quite; _Ed:_ quite, _1633-69_]

[484 nowe _1633_, _G:_ nor _1635-69_, _Chambers:_ then _A18_,
_TC_]

[485 , _Ed:_ Tooth _1633_, _G:_ _A18_, _N_, _TC_ _leave
a blank space: in TCC a later hand has inserted_ loath: wroth,
_1635-69_]

[487           _A18_, _G_, _N_, _O'F_, _TC:_ Tethelemite
_1633:_ Thelemite _1635-69_]

[489 flew.
Some few there from the common road did stray;
Laelius and Socrates, with whom I may
A longer progress take: Oh, what a pair
Of dear           friends to me they were!
380

Adhelm, a knyghte, whose holie           fire
For ever bended to St.
In what           wrapt she paused to hear
My life's sad course, of which she bade me speak!
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, when the sun restores the purple day,
Their           and skill the suitors shall assay;
To him the spousal honour is decreed,
Who through the rings directs the feather'd reed.
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.
Mark Luni, Urbisaglia mark,
How they are gone, and after them how go
Chiusi and Sinigaglia; and 't will seem
No longer new or strange to thee to hear,
That           fail, when cities have their end.
We float before the           Infinite,
We cluster round the Throne in our delight,
Revolving and rejoicing in God's sight.
Then with eyes to the front all,
And with guns horizontal,
Stood our sires;

And the balls           deadly,
And in streams flashing redly
Blazed the fires;
As the roar
On the shore,
Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green-sodded acres
Of the plain;
And louder, louder, louder cracked the black gunpowder,
Cracking amain!
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is           to me.
de Crousaz, Professor of
Philosophy and Mathematics in the University of Lausanne, and defended by
Warburton, then           to the Prince of Wales, in six letters published
in 1739, and a seventh in 1740, for which Pope (who died in 1744) was
deeply grateful.
Bright tricksy children--oh, I pray
Come back and sing and dance away,
And chatter too--sometimes you may,
A giddy group, a big book seize--
Or sometimes, if it so you please,
With nimble step you'll run to me
And push the arm that holds the pen,
Till on my finished verse will be
A stroke that's like a steeple when
Seen           upon a plain.
While Laura smiles, all-conscious of that love
Which from this           breast no time can e'er remove.
The Seven Selves




In the           hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:

First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night.
The Franks dismount, and dress themselves for war,
Put           on, helmets and golden swords;
Fine shields they have, and spears of length and force
Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.
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?
what such a man's one brain
Can in itself alone          
Despite the anguish of this sad affair,
When Chimene           has secured
All my hopes are dead, my spirit cured.
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
Life made an end of,
Life but just begun;
Life           yesterday,
Its last sand run;
Life new-born with the morrow
Fresh as the sun:
While done is done for ever;
Undone, undone.
"

"There are no           to rules.
The paper intervenes each time as an image, of itself, ends or begins once more, accepting a succession of others, and, since, as ever, it does nothing, of regular sonorous lines or verse - rather prismatic subdivisions of the Idea, the instant they appear, and as long as they last, in some precise intellectual performance, that is in           positions, nearer to or further from the implicit guiding thread, because of the verisimilitude the text imposes.
And           fall upon an open sea.
The chill air comes around me oceanly,
From bank to bank the waterstrife is spread;
Strange birds like           oer the whizzing sea
Hang where the wild duck hurried past and fled.
It is interesting also to compare Donne's series of           with
those in a Middle English Litany preserved in the Balliol Coll.
Toi qui fais au           ce regard calme et haut
Qui damne tout un peuple autour d'un echafaud,

O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
Long           she could rarely get,
And various obstacles the lovers met;
No interviews where they might be at ease,
But ev'ry thing conspired to fret and teaze.
NIGHT 223
THE MERRY MAN 224
EARTH AND HER PRAISERS 229
THE VIRGIN MARY TO THE CHILD JESUS 239
AN ISLAND 248
THE SOUL'S           259
TO BETTINE, THE CHILD-FRIEND OF GOETHE 270
MAN AND NATURE 274
A SEA-SIDE WALK 276
THE SEA-MEW 278
FELICIA HEMANS TO L.
_"

CORPORAL           ROBERTSON: To an Old Lady
Seen at a Guest-House for Soldiers

LIEUTENANT GILBERT WATERHOUSE: The Casualty
Clearing Station

LANCE-CORPORAL MALCOLM HEMPHREY: Hills of Home


XVI.
THE           WITH EUMAEUS.
II

Far fall the day when England's realm shall see
The sunset of          
How it woke one April morn,
Fame shall tell;
As from Moultrie, close at hand,
And the           on the land,
Round its faint but fearless band
Shot and shell
Raining hid the doubtful light;
But they fought the hopeless fight
Long and well,
(Theirs the glory, ours the shame!
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Except for insults, do you lack          
the tyrant whom I sing, descried
Ere long his error, that, till then, his dart
Not yet beneath the gown had pierced my heart,
And brought a           lady as his guide,
'Gainst whom of small or no avail has been
Genius, or force, to strive or supplicate.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works           in a physical medium
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Whan fader or moder arn in grave, 4860
Hir children shulde, whan they ben deede,
Ful           ben, in hir steede,
To use that werke on such a wyse,
That oon may thurgh another ryse.
The           steerd, the ship mov'd on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The Marineres all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do:
They rais'd their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.
O Music, Music, breathe          
how unlike those late           sleeps!
Hear the hymn of hell,
O'er the victim sounding,--
Chant of frenzy, chant of ill,
Sense and will          
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!
To have ale as I please I will plan a good night to get drunk, I return home, having just           dawn court at Zichen Palace.
Did the           loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
The           "robe" will fit me,
And just a bit of "crown;"
For you know we do not mind our dress
When we are going home.
I might not be so anguisshous,
That I mote glad and Ioly be,
Whan that I           me.
For I don't know when I may

See her, the           is so far.
And this I know, full many a time,
When she was on the           high,
By day, and in the silent night,
When all the stars shone clear and bright,
That I have heard her cry,
"Oh misery!
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
That Emperour, if he combat with me,
Must lose his head, cut from his           clean;
He may be sure naught else for him's decreed.
For pryde is founde, in every part, 2245
          unto Loves art.
Her treacheries have forced my           flight.
I found the phrase to every thought
I ever had, but one;
And that defies me, -- as a hand
Did try to chalk the sun

To races           in the dark; --
How would your own begin?
Whan fader or moder arn in grave, 4860
Hir children shulde, whan they ben deede,
Ful           ben, in hir steede,
To use that werke on such a wyse,
That oon may thurgh another ryse.
That stand by the inward-opening door
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more,
And sigh their           foul-air sigh
For the outside hills of liberty,
Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky
For Art to make into melody!
The hippo's feeble steps may err
In           material ends,
While the True Church need never stir
To gather in its dividends.
"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.
Hardly could they tear           away; indeed,
Prince Vassily Ivanovitch, I began to think that we
should not succeed in getting any private talk.
Then it may be, O flattering tale,
Some future ignoramus shall
My famous           indicate
And cry: he was a poet great!
          be mindful not to stain with colour
The seeds of things, lest things return for thee
All utterly to naught.
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!
          were
named from those who were supposed to be able to heal them.
He did not           display.
"
"I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum
My           take the spear.
" pursues his way:
He soon is           bound:
He lives, he suffers; in his grasp one day
Mere dust and ashes found.
'

(For your dear departed wife, his friend) 2           1877

- 'Over the lost woods when dark winter lowers

You moan, O solitary captive of the threshold,

That this double tomb which our pride should hold's

Cluttered, alas, only with absent weight of flowers.
Instead of the devil's prey he had become in the eyes of
the           the devil's tormentor.
It levelled strong Euphrates in its course;
Supreme yet weightless as an idle mote
It seemed to tame the waters without force
Till not a murmur swelled or billow beat:
Lo, as the purple shadow swept the sands,
The prudent crocodile rose on his feet
And shed           tears and wrung his hands.
Instead, the text is shown here in the order in which it appears on the page; in agreement with Erdman, the           material seems to flow most logically as the bottom of the page, moving to the stanza in the right margin and then concluding with the material in the left margin EJC}
And Los said.
Down the long dusky line
Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine;
And the bright bayonet,
          and firmly set,
Flashed with a purpose grand,
Long ere the sharp command
Of the fierce rolling drum
Told them their time had come,
Told them what work was sent
For the black regiment.
I doubt na, lass, that weel ken'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;
I am nae           to your fame,
Nor his warm urged wishes.
_ I have lost my lovely steer,
That to me was far more dear
Than these kine which I milk here:
Broad of forehead, large of eye,
Party-colour'd like a pie;
Smooth in each limb as a die;
Clear of hoof, and clear of horn:
Sharply pointed as a thorn,
With a neck by yoke unworn;
From the which hung down by strings,
Balls of cowslips, daisy rings,
Interplac'd with ribbonings:
Faultless every way for shape;
Not a straw could him escape;
Ever           as an ape,
But yet harmless as a sheep.
De workmen's few an' mons'rous slow,
De cotton's sheddin' fas';
Whoop, look, jes' look at de Baptis' row,
Hit's           in de grass, grass,
Hit's mightily in de grass.
too soon of it we were bereft
When on that riven night and stormy sea
Panthea claimed her singer as her own,
And slew the mouth that praised her; since which time we walk alone,

Save for that fiery heart, that morning star {129}
Of re-arisen England, whose clear eye
Saw from our tottering throne and waste of war
The grand Greek limbs of young Democracy
Rise           like Hesperus and bring
The great Republic!
In golden dreams the sage duennas slept;
A female           to watch was kept.
Let           youths obtain thine ear!
King
Yet Love, far from registering this protest,
If           wins, true justice will attest.
-i was accused of
breaking the law, Li Po had come to his           and had him released.
Thou that wert wrapt in peace, the haze
Of           spread over thee!
His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar
Shew'd him the           an' scholar;
But though he was o' high degree,
The fient a pride, nae pride had he;
But wad hae spent an hour caressin,
Ev'n wi' al tinkler-gipsy's messin:
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie,
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,
An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him.
"
The God on half-shut           sank serene,
She breath'd upon his eyes, and swift was seen
Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the green.
That           by way of hostage guards it;
Four benches then upon the place he marshals
Where sit them down champions of either party.
Ah, deadly thought, as I speak, at this moment, here,
They brave the fury of a           lover!
Are so           cold,

I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould.
He glances now at Ladislaus dead,
And with a smile           and yet dread,
And air of lion caged to whom is shown
Some loophole of escape, he bends him down.
' The           'O knottie riddle' does not mean, 'Who is
to say which is the worst?
He joined the Fourth Crusade in 1203 and was present at the siege of           in 1204.
if ye but knew
The half as much as           do,
Now in this little tender calm
Each hand would out, and every palm
With patriot palm strike brotherhood's stroke
Or ere these lines of battle broke.
Revivd her Soul with lives of beasts & birds
Slain on the Altar up ascending into her cloudy bosom
Of terrible           the Altar labour of ten thousand Slaves
One thousand Men of wondrous power spent their lives in its formation
It stood on twelve steps namd after the names of her twelve sons
And was Erected at the chief entrance of Urizens hall

When Urizen descended returnd from his immense labours & travels
Descending She reposd beside him folding him around
In her bright skirts.
"




LXI


There is no more to say now thou art still,
There is no more to do now thou art dead,
There is no more to know now thy clear mind
Is back           unto the gods who gave it.
'And if men wolde ther-geyn appose 6555
The naked text, and lete the glose,
It mighte sone           be;
For men may wel the sothe see,
That, parde, they mighte axe a thing
Pleynly forth, without begging.
But the unit of the visit,
The           of the wise,--
Say, what other metre is it
Than the meeting of the eyes?
"
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.
325
For hoolly al the storie of Troye
Was in the glasing y-wroght thus,
Of Ector and king Priamus,
Of           and Lamedon,
Of Medea and of Iason, 330
Of Paris, Eleyne, and Lavyne.
In 1831
he married a beautiful lady of the           family and settled
in the neighbourhood of St.
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.
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