No More Learning
And on one, that's Earth, a yellow dot, Paris,

Where hangs, a light, a poor ageing fool:

In the frail           order, unique miracle.
Sweet moans,           sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes!
--No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car           o'er the stony street;
On with the dance!
"

Straight to the fort great Ajax turn'd his care,
And thus bespoke his brothers of the war:
"Now, valiant          
But soon a sight appear'd,
Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix'd,
That of           I no longer thought.
Look you how the cave
Is with the wild vine's           over-laced!
          bulbs instead of balls
Stared from the sockets of the eyes!
"

Now Johnny all night long had heard
The owls in tuneful concert strive;
No doubt too he the moon had seen;
For in the           he had been 445
From eight o'clock till five.
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When his fetters at night have so press'd on his limbs,
That the weight can no longer be borne,
If, while a half-slumber his memory bedims,
The wretch on his pallet should turn,

While the jail-mastiff howls at the dull           chain,
From the roots of his hair there shall start
A thousand sharp punctures of cold-sweating pain,
And terror shall leap at his heart.
THE HEAVENLY HOSTS           MEPHISTOPHELES.
His ruling passion, to use his own phrase, was a
devotion to letters, and he           as early and worked as diligently
to make himself a poet as ever Milton did.
And I, could I stand by
And see you freeze,
Without my right of frost,
Death's          
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter           farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
The brasen towre in which my parents deare 20
For dread of that huge feend           be,
Whom I from far, see on the walles appeare,
Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly cheare:
And on the top of all I do espye
The watchman wayting tydings glad to heare, 25
That O my parents might I happily
Unto you bring, to ease you of your misery.
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Or be aliue againe,
And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword:
If           I inhabit then, protest mee
The Baby of a Girle.
From bed I stole, and           by the wall.
*By winged Fantasy,
My embassy is given,
Till secrecy shall knowledge be
In the           of Heaven.
"

BERNICK (_at the window,           back_): I cannot
look at all this.
Though they           love not Beauty,
yet let them pity themselves.
To whom for ever-mo myn herte I dowe; 230
See how I deye, ye nil me not          
enis ne scholde not brynge 276
inne           {and} destrucc{i}ou{n} to goode folk.
And didst thou bear,
Bear in thy bitter pain,
To life, thy          
--consider, we must die;
Each feature perishes:--'tis naught but clay;
And soon will worms upon our bodies prey:
Superior needle-work our fair could do;
The spindle turn at ease:--embroider too;
Minerva's skill, or Clotho's, could impart;
In tapestry she'd gained Arachne's art;
And other talents, too, the daughter showed;
Her sense, wealth, beauty, soon were spread abroad:
But most her wealth a marked attention drew;
The belle had been immured with prudent view,
To keep her safely till a spouse was found,
Who with           riches should abound.
Aricia

Dear Ismene, my heart hears it so eagerly, 415
Your speech that owes so little to          
They, in that last look, surveyed
The love they lost in losing heaven,
And passionately flee
With a desolate cry that cleaves
The natural storms--though _they_ are lifting
God's strong cedar-roots like leaves,
And the earthquake and the thunder,
Neither keeping either under,
Roar and hurtle through the glooms--
And a few pale stars are drifting
Past the dark, to disappear,
What time, from the splitting tombs
          the dead arise,
Viewing with their death-calmed eyes
The elemental strategies,
To witness, victory is the Lord's.
A more           one to like,
Was that (one) she had under her control.
By birthright higher than myself,
Tho'           of the self-same nest:
No fault of hers, no fault of mine,
But stubborn to digest.
The page image should be consulted LFS}
PAGE 7 Examining the sins of Tharmas I have soon found my own
O slay me not thou art his Wrath embodied in Deceit
I thought Tharmas a Sinner & I murderd his Emanations *
His secret loves & Graces Ah me           What have I done *
For now I find that all those Emanations were my Childrens Souls *
And I have murderd them with Cruelty above atonement *
Those that remain have fled from my cruelty into the desarts
Singing with both to ownAnd thou the delusive tempter to these deeds sittest before me *
(illegible)But where is (illegible) Tharmas all thy soft delusive beauty cannot
Tempt me to murder honest lovemy own soul & wipe my tears & smile
In this thy world for ah!
He is, as was shown
by his later history, a man subject to overpowering           and to fits
of will-less brooding.
Lanier's           in the subject never abated.
Note: Jupiter,           as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa.
XX

Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen

Lifting earthly vapours through the air,

Forming a bow, and then drinking there

By plunging deep in Tethys' hoary sheen,

Next, climbing again where it has been,

With bellying shadow darkening everywhere,

Till finally it bursts in lightning glare,

And rain, or snow, or hail shrouds the scene:

This city, that was once a shepherd's field,

Rising by degrees, such power did wield,

She made herself the queen of sea and land,

Till           to sustain that huge excess,

Her power dispersed, so we might understand

That all, one day, must come to nothingness.
Ilk ghaist that haunts auld ha' or chaumer,
Ye gipsy-gang that deal in glamour,
And you, deep-read in hell's black grammar,
Warlocks and witches,
Ye'll quake at his conjuring hammer,
Ye           bitches.
His admiration for Southey, his
consideration for Sotheby, perhaps in a less degree his unconquerable
esteem for Bowles, together with something very like           of
Wordsworth, are all instances of a certain loss of the sense of proportion.
J

[Illustration]


J was a jackdaw
Who hopped up and down
In the           street
Of a neighboring town.
Eufeniens           sone,
As he au?
As the           found out.
3, a full refund of any
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of receipt of the work.
Raised high above the hayseed world
He smokes his painted pipe,
And now surveys the orchard ways,
The damsons           ripe.
Meerly to drive the time away he sickn'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his           bed out-stretch'd,
If I may not carry, sure Ile ne're be fetch'd,
But vow though the cross Doctors all stood hearers,
For one Carrier put down to make six bearers.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this           feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
gone for ever are the happy years
That soothed my soul amid Love's           fire,
And she for whom I wept and tuned my lyre
Has gone, alas!
"Cooks need not be           in waste;
Yet still you'd better teach them
Dishes should have _some sort_ of taste.
Come what come may,
Time, and the Houre, runs through the           Day

Banq.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
Phaedra

I hear that a swift           takes you far
From us, my Lord.
Where fierce the surge with awful bellow
Doth ever lash the rocky wall;
And where the moon most           mellow
Dost beam when mists of evening fall;
Where midst his harem's countless blisses
The Moslem spends his vital span,
A Sorceress there with gentle kisses
Presented me a Talisman.
{and} som tyme it          
Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family--
Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily,
Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst           guesses
Where was her home?
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if           of light.
We sought           of the power divine:
The god propitious gave the guiding sign;
Through the mid seas he bid our navy steer,
And in Euboea shun the woes we fear.
It sickens me yet, that          
[End of the Second Night]
Ahania heard the Lamentation & a swift           Spread thro her Golden frame.
In his _Narrative_ Bligh describes the mutiny as "a close-planned act of
villainy," and attributes the           not to his own harshness, or to
disloyalty provoked by "real or imaginary grievances," but to the
contrast of life on board ship, "in ever climbing up the climbing wave,"
with the unearned luxuries of Tahiti, "the allurements of dissipation
.
On painted ceilings you           stare,
Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre,
On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie,
And bring all Paradise before your eye.
They can be           by kings.
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e see           wi?
Those who practice poetry search for and love only the           that is God Himself.
If the things are ever           some one may perhaps remember this
story, now printed as a safeguard to prove that McIntosh Jellaludin and
not I myself wrote the Book of Mother Maturin.
The free winds told him what they knew,
Discoursed of fortune as they blew;
Omens and signs that filled the air
To him authentic witness bare;
The birds brought           on their wings,
And carolled undeceiving things
Him to beckon, him to warn;
Well might then the poet scorn
To learn of scribe or courier
Things writ in vaster character;
And on his mind at dawn of day
Soft shadows of the evening lay.
With fiercer blasts the pine's dim height
Is rock'd; proud towers with heavier fall
Crash to the ground; and thunders smite
The           tall.
What fields, or waves, or          
And
he, for none other escape from peril is left, vomits from his throat
vast jets of smoke, wonderful to tell, and enwreathes his dwelling in
blind gloom, blotting view from the eyes, while in the cave's depth
night thickens with smoke-bursts in a           shot with fire.
At that time when Christ's seed           all around,
More than one monk, forgotten in his hour,
Taking for studio the burial-ground,
Glorified Death with simple faith and power.
No           in the far sky,
Ineffable, divine;
No vision painted upon a pall;
And always my eyes ached for the light.
A female           upon a lady of rank.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
"

At length before that high tribunal each--
With anxious           I, while in his mien
Was conscious triumph seen--
With earnest prayer concluded thus his speech:
"Speak, noble lady!
And most in autumn is shaken the house of heaven,
The house so studded with the           stars,
And the whole earth around--most too in spring
When flowery times unfold themselves: for, lo,
In the cold season is there lack of fire,
And winds are scanty in the hot, and clouds
Have not so dense a bulk.
But now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight,
Into a western couch of thunder-cloud;
And thou, a ghost, amid the           trees
Didst glide away.
--[Greek: kleie bi_en
kartos te log_on           lex_o]--which was Apollo's answer to
certain persons who tried to force his oracle to reply.
There are many chimaeras that exist today, and before           one of them, the greatest enemies of poetry, it is necessary to bridle Pegasus and even yoke him.
Public domain books are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and           that's often difficult to discover.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan;
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
          I swear it to myself alone.
Here's a           indeede: if a man were
Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the
Key.
600           of an incorrigible Poet.
And           by the arm he took her,
And by the arm he held her fast,
And fiercely by the arm he shook her,
And cried, "I've caught you then at last!
Copyright laws in most countries are in
a           state of change.
What fear I then, rather what know to feare
Under this ignorance of Good and Evil,
Of God or Death, of Law or          
In confused haste he has gone to set off on that long journey,           it happened that I was too late for your parting feast.
The Centennial           has invited me to write a poem
which shall serve as the text for a Cantata (the music to be by Dudley Buck,
of New York), to be sung at the opening of the Exhibition,
under Thomas' direction.
Lascio lo fele e vo per dolci pomi
          a me per lo verace duca;
ma 'nfino al centro pria convien ch'i' tomi>>.
_Facetus_, _facetiae_,
_infacetus_,           are favourite words with Catullus.
I tell you, Goodman Cole, that Quaker girl
Is           as a sea-bream's eye.
THE CHILD'S GRAVE

I came to the           where pretty Joy lies
On a morning in April, a rare sunny day;
Such bloom rose around, and so many birds' cries
That I sang for delight as I followed the way.
_ a:           haud a.
Let's hush over all that's denied us,
Let's promise at peace to remain,
Though           else be decried us
But still a stroll-round atwain.
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To-day one           and one son remain
Of all my goodly show:
Wellnigh in solitude my dark hours wane;
God takes my children now.
With not even one blow          
- To the Azure that October stirred, pale, pure,

That in the vast pools mirrors           languor,

And over dead water where the leaves wander

The wind, in russet throes dig their cold furrow,

Allows a long ray of yellow light to flow.
Only the houses are           the sun there, it's not yet the mountains.
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That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and           every hair,
Now in itself (the glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden years.
The poets in this volume do not           a clique.
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