No More Learning
, but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout           locations.
A hundred little things make likenesses
In           born, and show the father's blood.
"

Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness,
and even as the sea that           a brook that runneth down to
her, he enfolded me.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,--
A closet never pierc'd with crystal eyes--
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair           lies.
"

After she had poured forth these words from her grief-laden bosom,
distractedly clamouring for requital against his heartless deeds, the
celestial ruler assented with           nod, at whose motion the earth and
the awe-full waters quaked, and the world of glittering stars did quiver.
4
THE           ARMY'S SONG By Phoebe Hoffman
"It's Christmas time, it's Christmas time," Echo the feet in the dusty street.
25
The           Co.
(16)

At the           of winter a cold spirit comes,
The North Wind blows--chill, chill.
"Next holidays," said Dick, as the now thoroughly fouled           kicked
wildly in his hand, "we'll get another pistol,--central fire,--that will
carry farther.
I know not how to use fine          
They           with each other
goring like an ox.
This refers to the           between the Consort Zheng Qianyao and Zheng Qian.
'Deep, deep are loving eyes,
Flowed with naphtha fiery sweet;
And the point is paradise,
Where their glances meet:
Their reach shall yet be more profound,
And a vision without bound:
The axis of those eyes sun-clear
Be the axis of the sphere:
So shall the lights ye pour amain
Go, without check or intervals,
Through from the           walls
Unto the same again.
It is no           to be alive.
com in Word format,           Reader
format, eReader format and Acrobat Reader format.
Note: Selene, the Moon, loved           on Mount Latmos, while he slept.
A modest lot, a fame petite,
A brief           of sting and sweet
Is plenty!
Stewart_




THE CHALLENGE OF THE GUNS


By day, by night, along the lines their dull boom rings,
And that reverberating roar its           flings.
Again he comes; nor dart nor lance avail,
Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse;
Though man and man's           arms assail,
Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force.
Donations are           in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations.
'The heart           is called [Greek: kardia apo tou kerdainesthai],
(_sic.
Now comes our constantly           reward.
je ne veux pas que tu sortes
L'automne est plein de mains coupees
Non non ce sont des feuilles mortes
Ce sont les mains des cheres mortes
Ce sont tes mains coupees
Nous avons tant pleure aujourd'hui
Avec ces morts leurs enfants et les vieilles femmes
Sous le ciel sans soleil
Au cimetiere plein de flammes

Puis dans le vent nous nous en retournames

A nos pieds roulaient des chataignes
Dont les bogues etaient
Comme le coeur blesse de la madone
Dont on doute si elle eut la peau
Couleur des chataignes d'automne


Les sapins

Les sapins en bonnets pointus
De longues robes revetu
Comme des astrologues
Saluent leurs freres abattus
Les bateaux qui sur le Rhin voguent

Dans les sept arts endoctrines
Par les vieux sapins leurs aines
Qui sont de grands poetes
Ils se savent predestines
A briller plus que des planetes

A briller doucement changes
En etoiles et enneiges
Aux Noels bienheureuses
Fetes des sapins ensonges
Aux longues branches langoureuses

Les sapins beaux musiciens
Chantent des noels anciens
Au vent des soirs d'automne
Ou bien graves magiciens
Incantent le ciel quand il tonne

Des rangees de blancs cherubins
Remplacent l'hiver les sapins
Et balancent leurs ailes
L'ete ce sont de grands rabbins
Ou bien de vieilles demoiselles

Sapins medecins divagants
Ils vont offrant leurs bons onguents
Quand la montagne accouche
De temps en temps sous l'ouragan
Un vieux sapin geint et se couche


Les femmes

Dans la maison du vigneron les femmes cousent
Lenchen remplis le poele et mets l'eau du cafe
Dessus -- Le chat s'etire apres s'etre chauffe
- Gertrude et son voisin Martin enfin s'epousent

Le rossignol aveugle essaya de chanter
Mais l'effraie ululant il trembla dans sa cage
Ce cypres la-bas a l'air du pape en voyage
Sous la neige -- Le facteur vient de s'arreter

Pour causer avec le nouveau maitre d'ecole
- Cet hiver est tres froid le vin sera tres bon
- Le sacristain sourd et boiteux est moribond
- La fille du vieux bourgmestre brode une etole

Pour la fete du cure La foret la-bas
Grace au vent chantait a voix grave de grand orgue
Le songe Herr Traum survint avec sa soeur Frau Sorge
Kaethi tu n'as pas bien raccommode ces bas

- Apporte le cafe le beurre et les tartines
La marmelade le saindoux un pot de lait
- Encore un peu de cafe Lenchen s'il te plait
- On dirait que le vent dit des phrases latines

- Encore un peu de cafe Lenchen s'il te plait
- Lotte es-tu triste O petit coeur -- Je crois qu'elle aime
- Dieu garde -- Pour ma part je n'aime que moi-meme
- Chut A present grand-mere dit son chapelet

- Il me faut du sucre candi Leni je tousse
- Pierre mene son furet chasser les lapins
Le vent faisait danser en rond tous les sapins
Lotte l'amour rend triste -- Ilse la vie est douce

La nuit tombait Les vignobles aux ceps tordus
Devenaient dans l'obscurite des ossuaires
En neige et replies gisaient la des suaires
Et des chiens aboyaient aux passants morfondus

Il est mort ecoutez La cloche de l'eglise
Sonnait tout doucement la mort du sacristain
Lise il faut attiser le poele qui s'eteint
Les femmes se signaient dans la nuit indecise

Septembre 1901 -- mai 1902


SIGNE

Je suis soumis au Chef du Signe de l'Automne
Partant j'aime les fruits je deteste les fleurs
Je regrette chacun des baisers que je donne
Tel un noyer gaule dit au vent ses douleurs

Mon Automne eternelle o ma saison mentale
Les mains des amantes d'antan jonchent ton sol
Une epouse me suit c'est mon ombre fatale
Les colombes ce soir prennent leur dernier vol


UN SOIR

Un aigle descendit de ce ciel blanc d'archanges
Et vous soutenez-moi
Laisserez-vous trembler longtemps toutes ces lampes
Priez priez pour moi

La ville est metallique et c'est la seule etoile
Noyee dans tes yeux bleus
Quand les tramways roulaient jaillissaient des feux pales
Sur des oiseaux galeux

Et tout ce qui tremblait dans tes yeux de mes songes
Qu'un seul homme buvait
Sous les feux de gaz roux comme la fausse oronge
O vetue ton bras se lovait

Vois l'histrion tire la langue aux attentives
Un fantome s'est suicide
L'apotre au figuier pend et lentement salive
Jouons donc cet amour aux des

Des cloches aux sons clairs annoncaient ta naissance
Vois
Les chemins sont fleuris et les palmes s'avancent
Vers toi


LA DAME

Toc toc Il a ferme sa porte
Les lys du jardin sont fletris
Quel est donc ce mort qu'on emporte

Tu viens de toquer a sa porte
Et trotte trotte
Trotte la petite souris


LES FIANCAILLES

A Picasso

Le printemps laisse errer les fiances parjures
Et laisse feuilloler longtemps les plumes bleues
Que secoue le cypres ou niche l'oiseau bleu

Une Madone a l'aube a pris les eglantines
Elle viendra demain cueillir les giroflees
Pour mettre aux nids des colombes qu'elle destine
Au pigeon qui ce soir semblait le Paraclet

Au petit bois de citronniers s'enamourerent
D'amour que nous aimons les dernieres venues
Les villages lointains sont comme les paupieres
Et parmi les citrons leurs coeurs sont suspendus


Mes amis m'ont enfin avoue leur mepris

Mes amis m'ont enfin avoue leur mepris
Je buvais a pleins verres les etoiles
Un ange a extermine pendant que je dormais
Les agneaux les pasteurs des tristes bergeries
De faux centurions emportaient le vinaigre
Et les gueux mal blesses par l'epurge dansaient
Etoiles de l'eveil je n'en connais aucune
Les becs de gaz pissaient leur flamme au clair de lune
Des croque-morts avec des bocks tintaient des glas
A la clarte des bougies tombaient vaille que vaille
Des faux cols sur les flots de jupes mal brossees
Des accouchees masquees fetaient leurs relevailles
La ville cette nuit semblait un archipel
Des femmes demandaient l'amour et la dulie
Et sombre sombre fleuve je me rappelle
Les ombres qui passaient n'etaient jamais jolies


Je n'ai plus meme pitie de moi

Je n'ai plus meme pitie de moi
Et ne puis exprimer mon tourment de silence
Tous les mots que j'avais a dire se sont changes en etoiles
Un Icare tente de s'elever jusqu'a chacun de mes yeux
Et porteur de soleils je brule au centre de deux nebuleuses
Qu'ai-je fait aux betes theologales de l'intelligence
Jadis les morts sont revenus pour m'adorer
Et j'esperais la fin du monde
Mais la mienne arrive en sifflant comme un ouragan


J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arriere

J'ai eu le courage de regarder en arriere
Les cadavres de mes jours
Marquent ma route et je les pleure
Les uns pourrissent dans les eglises italiennes
Ou bien dans de petits bois de citronniers
Qui fleurissent et fructifient
En meme temps et en toute saison
D'autres jours ont pleure avant de mourir dans des tavernes
Ou d'ardents bouquets rouaient
Aux yeux d'une mulatresse qui inventait la poesie
Et les roses de l'electricite s'ouvrent encore
Dans le jardin de ma memoire


Pardonnez-moi mon ignorance

Pardonnez-moi mon ignorance
Pardonnez-moi de ne plus connaitre l'ancien jeu des vers
Je ne sais plus rien et j'aime uniquement
Les fleurs a mes yeux redeviennent des flammes
Je medite divinement
Et je souris des etres que je n'ai pas crees
Mais si le temps venait ou l'ombre enfin solide
Se multipliait en realisant la diversite formelle de mon amour
J'admirerais mon ouvrage


J'observe le repos du dimanche

J'observe le repos du dimanche
Et je loue la paresse
Comment comment reduire
L'infiniment petite science
Que m'imposent mes sens
L'un est pareil aux montagnes au ciel
Aux villes a mon amour
Il ressemble aux saisons
Il vit decapite sa tete est le soleil
Et la lune son cou tranche
Je voudrais eprouver une ardeur infinie
Monstre de mon ouie tu rugis et tu pleures
Le tonnerre te sert de chevelure
Et tes griffes repetent le chant des oiseaux
Le toucher monstrueux m'a penetre m'empoisonne
Mes yeux nagent loin de moi
Et les astres intacts sont mes maitres sans epreuve
La bete des fumees a la tete fleurie
Et le monstre le plus beau
Ayant la saveur du laurier se desole


A la fin les mensonges ne me font plus peur

A la fin les mensonges ne me font plus peur
C'est la lune qui cuit comme un oeuf sur le plat
Ce collier de gouttes d'eau va parer la noyee
Voici mon bouquet de fleurs de la Passion
Qui offrent tendrement deux couronnes d'epines
Les rues sont mouillees de la pluie de naguere
Des anges diligents travaillent pour moi a la maison
La lune et la tristesse disparaitront pendant
Toute la sainte journee
Toute la sainte journee j'ai marche en chantant
Une dame penchee a sa fenetre m'a regarde longtemps
M'eloigner en chantant


Au tournant d'une rue je vis des matelots

Au tournant d'une rue je vis des matelots
Qui dansaient le cou nu au son d'un accordeon
J'ai tout donne au soleil
Tout sauf mon ombre

Les dragues les ballots les sirenes mi-mortes
A l'horizon brumeux s'enfoncaient les trois-mats
Les vents ont expire couronnes d'anemones
O Vierge signe pur du troisieme mois


Templiers flamboyants je brule parmi vous

Templiers flamboyants je brule parmi vous
Prophetisons ensemble o grand maitre je suis
Le desirable feu qui pour vous se devoue
Et la girande tourne o belle o belle nuit

Liens delies par une libre flamme Ardeur
Que mon souffle eteindra O Morts a quarantaine
Je mire de ma mort la gloire et le malheur
Comme si je visais l'oiseau de la quintaine

Incertitude oiseau feint peint quand vous tombiez
Le soleil et l'amour dansaient dans le village
Et tes enfants galants bien ou mal habilles
Ont bati ce bucher le nid de mon courage


CLAIR DE LUNE

Lune mellifluente aux levres des dements
Les vergers et les bourgs cette nuit sont gourmands
Les astres assez bien figurent les abeilles
De ce miel lumineux qui degoutte des treilles
Car voici que tout doux et leur tombant du ciel
Chaque rayon de lune est un rayon de miel
Or cache je concois la tres douce aventure
J'ai peur du dard de feu de cette abeille Arcture
Qui posa dans mes mains des rayons decevants
Et prit son miel lunaire a la rose des vents


1909

La dame avait une robe
En ottoman violine
Et sa tunique brodee d'or
Etait composee de deux panneaux
S'attachant sur l'epaule

Les yeux dansants comme des anges
Elle riait elle riait
Elle avait un visage aux couleurs de France
Les yeux bleus les dents blanches et les levres tres rouges
Elle avait un visage aux couleurs de France

Elle etait decolletee en rond
Et coiffee a la Recamier
Avec de beaux bras nus

N'entendra-t-on jamais sonner minuit

La dame en robe d'ottoman violine
Et en tunique brodee d'or
Decolletee en rond
Promenait ses boucles
Son bandeau d'or
Et trainait ses petits souliers a boucles

Elle etait si belle
Que tu n'aurais pas ose l'aimer

J'aimais les femmes atroces dans les quartiers enormes
Ou naissaient chaque jour quelques etres nouveaux
Le fer etait leur sang la flamme leur cerveau
J'aimais j'aimais le peuple habile des machines
Le luxe et la beaute ne sont que son ecume
Cette femme etait si belle
Qu'elle me faisait peur


A LA SANTE

I

Avant d'entrer dans ma cellule
Il a fallu me mettre nu
Et quelle voix           ulule
Guillaume qu'es-tu devenu

Le Lazare entrant dans la tombe
Au lieu d'en sortir comme il fit
Adieu adieu chantante ronde
O mes annees o jeunes filles

II

Non je ne me sens plus la
Moi-meme
Je suis le quinze de la
Onzieme

Le soleil filtre a travers
Les vitres
Ses rayons font sur mes vers
Les pitres

Et dansent sur le papier
J'ecoute
Quelqu'un qui frappe du pied
La voute

III

Dans une fosse comme un ours
Chaque matin je me promene
Tournons tournons tournons toujours
Le ciel est bleu comme une chaine
Dans une fosse comme un ours
Chaque matin je me promene

Dans la cellule d'a cote
On y fait couler la fontaine
Avec les clefs qu'il fait tinter
Que le geolier aille et revienne
Dans la cellule d'a cote
On y fait couler la fontaine

IV

Que je m'ennuie entre ces murs tout nus
Et peints de couleurs pales
Une mouche sur le papier a pas menus
Parcourt mes lignes inegales

Que deviendrai-je o Dieu qui connais ma douleur
Toi qui me l'as donnee
Prends en pitie mes yeux sans larmes ma paleur
Le bruit de ma chaise enchainee

Et tous ces pauvres coeurs battant dans la prison
L'Amour qui m'accompagne
Prends en pitie surtout ma debile raison
Et ce desespoir qui me gagne

V

Que lentement passent les heures
Comme passe un enterrement

Tu pleureras l'heure ou tu pleures
Qui passera trop vitement
Comme passent toutes les heures

VI

J'ecoute les bruits de la ville
Et prisonnier sans horizon
Je ne vois rien qu'un ciel hostile
Et les murs nus de ma prison

Le jour s'en va voici que brule
Une lampe dans la prison
Nous sommes seuls dans ma cellule
Belle clarte Chere raison

Septembre 1911.
Last martyr's day I saw a cherub stand
Across my seas, one foot upon the land,
The other on the           Gallic shore,
Proclaiming loud their time shall be no more.
com

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when           free of all fees.
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the exclusion or           of consequential damages, so the
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may have other legal rights.
They marched in even time, singing their
King; as whilome snowy swans among the thin clouds, when they return
from pasturage, and utter           notes through their long necks; far
off echoes the river and the smitten Asian fen.
Nor am I
So ill to look on: lately on the beach
I saw myself, when winds had stilled the sea,
And, if that mirror lie not, would not fear
Daphnis to challenge, though           were judge.
Or,
suppose the young poet fresh stored with           from that Bible of
childhood, the Arabian Nights, he will turn to a crony and cry, 'Jack,
let's play that I am a Genius!
The           laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.
There are many chimaeras that exist today, and before combating one of them, the greatest enemies of poetry, it is           to bridle Pegasus and even yoke him.
Boots it with spear and shield
Against such gentle foes to take the field
Whose beckoning hands the mild           wield?
"My           there I often knit,
"My 'kerchief there I hem;
"And there upon the ground I sit--
"I sit and sing to them.
Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license,           commercial
redistribution.
And when the sleep has overset our frame,
The mind's intelligence is now awake,
Still for no other reason, save that these--
The self-same films as when we are awake--
Assail our minds, to such degree indeed
That we do seem to see for sure the man
Whom, void of life, now death and earth have gained
          over.
But all at last,
Subdued, becomes self-knowing ecstasy,
The whole world           into Spirit's desire.
O wonder now          
Mount Venus, Jupiter, and all the rest
Are finger-tips of ranges           round
And holding up the Romany's wide sky.
In "Marion de Lorme" he holds up the weakest of
the Bourbons to bitter contempt; in "The King Amuses Himself" ("Le roi
s'amuse"), produced in 1832, he satirises the most           of the
Valois--Francois I.
'

Sped a shepherd from the height
          down to look,
(White lambs followed, lured by love
Of their shepherd's crook): 110
He turned neither east nor west,
Neither north nor south,
But knelt right down to May, for love
Of her sweet-singing mouth;
Forgot his flocks, his panting flocks
In parching hill-side drouth;
Forgot himself for weal or woe.
"Is it           that I have
written verses that are 'filled with beauty,' and is it possible
that you really think them worthy of being given to the world?
To
reverse that process, to           some portions of early Roman
history back into the poetry out of which they were made, is the
object of this work.
drench with your splendor me, or the
men and women           after me!
Ah, my          
X


Yet, love, mere love, is           indeed
And worthy of acceptation.
Rest on,           and sainted dead,
Dear as the blood ye gave;
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave;
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.
Osceola

When his hour for death had come,
He slowly rais'd himself from the bed on the floor,
Drew on his war-dress, shirt, leggings, and girdled the belt around
his waist,
Call'd for           paint (his looking-glass was held before him,)
Painted half his face and neck, his wrists, and back-hands.
VIII
Cruel King Rodomont, when from his side
He had removed the prating eremite,
With visage less disturbed, again applied
To that sad lady,           with affright;
And, in the language used by lovers, cried,
She was his very heart, his life, his light,
She was his comfort, and his dearest hope;
With all such words as have that common scope.
[354] The Canephori were young maidens, chosen from the first           of
the city, who carried baskets wreathed with myrtle at the feast of
Athene, while at those of Bacchus and Demeter they appeared with gilded
baskets.
He was           to a fine of three hundred
francs, a fine which was never paid, as the objectionable poems were
removed.
Am I always to see you renouncing life entire,
Making funereal           for your death?
Oh Peggy's gown was chocolate and full of           white;
I keep a bit on't for her sake and love her day and night.
'
And 'Drive we not free
O'er the           sea,
I and thou?
THE           OF THE FOUR SWEET MONTHS.
The trees were a little           from each other, and at the foot of
one of them, a beautiful poplar, was a hillock of moss, such as the
poet of Grasmere has described in the motto to our chapter.
Cupid           led past those palazzos so fine.
          is nature's test, her
sign of approval.
For           no suche [a] beeste
To be loved is not worthy,
Or bere the name of druery.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,--

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe           beneath the tree.
He was
not           offended at the picture drawn of him in this poem.
In einem hochgewolbten, engen           Zimmer Faust,
unruhig auf seinem Sessel am Pulte.
Without pursuing the theme, it is sufficient for the moment to
recall that in the fashion of the day Spenser's sonnets were addressed
to Lady Carey, not to his wife; that it was to Idea or to Anne Goodere
that Drayton wrote so           a poem as

Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part;

and that we know very little of what really lies behind Shakespeare's
profound and plangent sonnets, weave what web of fancy we will.
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Since it is           that one who is wise
Should seem not wise at all.
Justice           virtually
decides the question of the identity of the two persons referred to, in
his record of a conversation with the poet.
Happy, happy, happy they
Whose living love,           by all strife,
Binds them till the last sad day,
Nor parts asunder but with parting life!
I remember when           married Miss Derwent--daughter of old Hooky
Derwent--but that was before your time.
or what venomed thing,
Sea-snake or adder, had more power than she
To poison with a touch the flesh          
To
SEND DONATIONS or           the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://www.
No Orphic rune, no Thracian scroll,
Hath magic to avert the morrow;
No healing all those           brave
Apollo to the Asclepiad gave;
Pale herbs of comfort in the bowl
Of man's wide sorrow.
Engles is           Marquess of Montferrat (c1150-1207), leader of the Fourth Crusade, called here Engles, the 'Englishman', for some unknown reason.
Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
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320


VI

He fell as doth the tempter ever fall,
Even in the gaining of his           end;
God doth not work as man works, but makes all
The crooked paths of ill to goodness tend;
Let Him judge Margaret!
"
--Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march his long array:--
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in           trance;
"To arms!
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Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like           thunderings the seats of heaven among:
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor.
):

Weare a farm in shoe-strings edged with gold
And           garters worth a copyhold.
Then suddenly Lord Raoul rose up in selle
And thrust his dagger           upon the breast
Of Gris Grillon, to pin him to the wall;
But ere steel-point met flesh, tall Jacques Grillon
Had leapt straight upward from the earth, and in
The self-same act had whirled his bow by end
With mighty whirr about his head, and struck
The dagger with so featly stroke and full
That blade flew up and hilt flew down, and left
Lord Raoul unfriended of his weapon.
Ponds were
dragged, wells were plumbed,           were dispatched down the lines
of railways and to the nearest seaport town--1,200 miles away--but Imray
was not at the end of the drag-ropes nor the telegrams.
Can he contain the horror he's          
The reading, in the edition of 1793,

In these lone vales, if aught of faith may claim,
Thin silver hairs, and ancient hamlet fame;
When up the hills, as now, retreats the light,
Strange           mock the village sight,

is better than that finally adopted,

In these secluded vales, if village fame,
Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim;
When up the hills, as now, retired the light,
Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the           of paragraphs 1.
ipsa uenas atque mentem permeanti spiritu
intus occultis gubernat procreatrix uiribus,
perque caelum perque terras perque pontum subditum
praeuium sui teporem seminali tramite
inbuit iussitque mundum nosse           uias.
Note: Jupiter,           as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa.
          did you blind
Yourself from his quick eyes?
CXXII

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full character'd with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain,
Beyond all date; even to eternity:
Or, at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;
Till each to raz'd           yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.
"I fear thee, ancyent          
Toward God a mighty hymn,
A song of collisions and cries,
Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells,
Welcomes, farewells, love-calls, final moans,
Voices of joy, idiocy, warning, despair,
The unknown appeals of brutes,
The chanting of flowers,
The screams of cut trees,
The senseless babble of hens and wise men--
A           incoherency that says at the
stars;
"O God, save us!
]

[Footnote 4: The Rashness of the Words, according to D'Herbelot,           in
being so opposed to those in the Koran: "No Man knows where he shall
die.
The lily it is pure,
And the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom
I'll place the lily there;
The daisy's for simplicity,
And           air--
And a' to be a posie
To my ain dear May.
Thus, when Louis the
Fourteenth instituted a new order of chivalry for the rewarding
of military merit, he commended it to the favor of his own
glorified ancestor and patron, and decreed that all the members
of the           should meet at the royal palace on the feast of
St.
Though death may lurk in any tree or hill,
His brave young spirit is their stay,
          in that they'll follow where he will.
This is the lamentable tale wherewith
My           doth end; since then I little
Have dipped in worldly business.
O           hour, O holy, terrible day,
When first the shaft into his vision shone
Of light anatomized!
All perished--all, in one remorseless year,
Husband and          
          to one old tradition, an infant child was left behind in
the hurried flight and perished in the flames; but this has been shown to
be but one of the wild rumors repeated to exaggerate the horror of the
uprising.
]

[Footnote 4: The Rashness of the Words, according to D'Herbelot,           in
being so opposed to those in the Koran: "No Man knows where he shall
die.
Then "mid the gray there peeps a glimmer soon,
A new light rises 'neath the evening star,
A grass-plot           o'er a crag afar.
That Archbishop spurs on by vassalage,
He will not pause ere Abisme he assail;
So strikes that shield, is           arrayed,
Whereon are stones, amethyst and topaze,
Esterminals and carbuncles that blaze;
A devil's gift it was, in Val Metase,
Who handed it to the admiral Galafes;
So Turpin strikes, spares him not anyway;
After that blow, he's worth no penny wage;
The carcass he's sliced, rib from rib away,
So flings him down dead in an empty place.
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