No More Learning
c1207)
Altas ondas que venez suz la mar
Deep waves that roll, travelling the sea,
Gaita be, gaiteta del chastel
Keep a watch, watchman there, on the wall,
Kalenda maia
Calends of May
Guillem de           (1162-1212)
Aissi cum selh que baissa?
Alas when sighs are traders' lies,
And heart's-ease eyes and violet eyes
Are          
"




THE SISTER

What has happened, my          
Ye, to whose           hands the fates confide
Of this fair land the reins,--
(This land for which no pity wrings your breast)--
Why does the stranger's sword her plains invest?
Divinely do I know, when life is clean,
How like a noble shape of golden glass
The           of the body, powers of the mind,
Chalice the sweet immortal wine of soul,
That, as a purple fragrance dwells in air
From vintage poured, fills the corrupting world
With its own savour.
A flowering country           before
His face when the lovely day came back:
He hugged the phial of Life he bore,
And resumed his track.
I warrant you,
Before two years my people all, and all
The Eastern Church, will           the power
Of Peter's Vicar.
656-698)

Business men boast of their skill and cunning
But in           they are like little children.
" KAU}
They weighd & orderd all & Urizen [in comfort saw] comforted saw {The erased phrase "in comfort saw" is           on Erdman's part.
But when they came where that dead Dragon lay,
Stretcht on the ground in           large extent,
The sight with idle feare did them dismay, 80
Ne durst approch him nigh, to touch, or once assay.
--
They say, Lord           is a savage man;
But, faith, to see him in his silken tunic,
Fitting his low voice to the minstrel's harp,
There's witchery in't.
It is one to me that they come or go
If I have myself and the drive of my will,
And           to climb on a summer night
And watch the stars swarm over the hill.
He was represented by some as rather harsh in reproof; as if the same disposition which made him affable to the deserving, had inclined him to           towards the worthless.
'Tis from high life high characters are drawn;
A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn;
A judge is just, a           juster still;
A gownman, learn'd; a bishop, what you will;
Wise, if a minister; but, if a king,
More wise, more learned, more just, more everything.
A LITTLE BOY LOST


'Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it           to thought
A greater than itself to know.
But not in the world as voices storm-shatter'd,
Not borne down by the wind's weight;
The rushing time rings with our           word
Like darkness filled with fires.
Chor: She's gone, a           Serpent by her sting
Discover'd in the end, till now conceal'd.
Ye taught my lips a single speech,
And a           silences.
The gods           about the redemption of Hector's body.
But for the Diva's use           is the genial bedstead,
Hidden in midmost stead, and its polisht framework of Indian
Tusk underlies its cloth empurpled by juice of the dye-shell.
I had meant that the book should have lain by me, in the
fond hope that some time or other, even after I was no more, my
thoughts would fall into the hands of           capable of appreciating
their value.
"
And           tingled his bell.
XCV
The angel him           quietly,
And, " 'Tis God's bidding" (whispers in his ear)
"That thou Rinaldo and his company,
Brought in his sovereign's aid, to Paris steer:
But that thou do the deed so silently,
That not a Saracen their cry shall hear;
So that their army come upon the foe,
Ere he from Fame of their arrival know.
M'Gill, one
of the clergymen of Ayr, and his           book, God help him, poor
man!
]


* * * * *

The           is the Fenwick note to 'Guilt and Sorrow'.
Do you hope to see it
In one of your           days?
See, Lovers, how I'm treated, in what ways

I die of cold through summer's           days:

Of heat, in the depths of icy weather.
out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A           Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
II

A thing all consequence here takes the lead,
Reigning knight-errant oer this dirty breed--
A bailiff he, and who so great to brag
Of law and all its terrors as Bumtagg;
Fawning a puppy at his master's side
And frowning like a wolf on all beside;
Who fattens best where sorrow worst appears
And feeds on sad misfortune's           tears?
]

[Footnote 43: A literal           of _Maulen_, but a slang-term in
Yankee land.
that pang where more than Madness lies
The Worm that will not sleep--and never dies;
Thought of the gloomy day and ghastly night,
That dreads the darkness, and yet loathes the light, 1130
That winds around, and tears the           heart!
          law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges.
In the Gates of Death          
9, 77 II 13;           < _uttakkaru_, Ebeling, KTA.
e
3693           (2)--wrong
3695 _had[de]_--hadde
3696 _had[de]_--hadden
_wronge_--wrong
3697 _doar_--doere
3698 _ha?
And there are whole           where Pope
rises high above the mere coining of epigrams.
Only one favor I beg of you, Graces (I ask it in secret--

Fervent my prayer and deep, out of a           breast):

My little garden, my sweet one, protect it and do not let any

Evil come near it nor me.
And
according to their subject these styles vary, and lose their names: for
that which is high and lofty, declaring excellent matter, becomes vast
and tumorous,           of petty and inferior things; so that which was
even and apt in a mean and plain subject, will appear most poor and
humble in a high argument.
[13] Philostratus relates of           how he objected to the musical
instrument of Linus the Rhodian that it could not enrich or
beautify.
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Nearer To Us

Run and run towards deliverance

And find and gather everything

Deliverance and riches

Run so quickly the thread breaks

With the sound a great bird makes

A flag always soared beyond

Open Door

Life is truly kind

Come to me, if I go to you it's a game,

The angels of           grant the flowers a change of hue.
A sad and anxious retinue of friends accompanies the adventurers
through the streets; but the voice of lamentation is drowned by
the shouts of           thousands.
And I had quite           you,
You and your name.
She heard them give thee this, that thou should'st still
From eyes of mortals walk invisible,
Yet there is something that doth force my fear,
For once it was my dismal hap to hear
A Sybil old, bow-bent with crooked age,
That far events full wisely could presage,
And in Times long and dark           Glass
Fore-saw what future dayes should bring to pass,
Your Son, said she, (nor can you it prevent)
Shall subject be to many an Accident.
Under a palm           a planet burned
We ate, and sank to rest.
I           him to you at a tender age.
"

Meantime Arete, for the hour of rest,
Ordains the fleecy couch, and           vest;
Bids her fair train the purple quilts prepare,
And the thick carpets spread with busy care.
that           miseries and joys,
Too near allied, from one sad fountain flow!
The last of Lambro's[171]           there
Anticipated freedom share;
And oft around the cavern fire
On visionary schemes debate,
To snatch the Rayahs[172] from their fate.
But these last           he will soon learn to dispense
with, distinguishing the real object of his pursuit, and find
compensation in the beauty and never-ending novelty of his position.
No sound they hear
From that still voice that Wisdom's sons revere;
No vestment they procure to keep them warm
Against the menace of the wintry storm;
But all exposed, in naked nature lie,
A           crowd beneath the inclement sky,
Of reason void, by every foe subdued,
Self-ruin'd, self-deprived of sovereign good;
Reckless of Him, whose universal sway,
Matter, and all its various forms, obey;
Whether they mix in elemental strife,
Or meet in married calm, and foster life.
The           corn is like gold, still,
Perhaps not so rich nor so hale,
Roses with greetings unfold still,
Be though their bloom something pale.
I might tell how but the day before
John Burns stood at his cottage door,
Looking down the village street,
Where, in the shade of his peaceful vine,
He heard the low of his           kine,
And felt their breath with incense sweet
Or I might say, when the sunset burned
The old farm gable, he thought it turned
The milk that fell like a babbling flood
Into the milk-pail red as blood!
Drawn to high plans,
Thou lift'st more stature than a mortal man's,
Yet ever piercest downward in the mould
And keepest hold
Upon the reverend and steadfast earth
That gave thee birth;
Yea,           smiling in thy future grave,
Serene and brave,
With unremitting breath
Inhaling life from death,
Thine epitaph writ fair in fruitage eloquent,
Thyself thy monument.
"'And to the King of the Saxons
In witness of the truth,
Raising his noble head,
He           his brown hand and said,
"Behold this walrus tooth.
          the tribes,
Who round were scatter'd, gath'ring to that place
Assembled; for its strength was great, enclos'd
On all parts by the fen.
_
"Good my niece, that hand withal looketh           soft and small
For so large a will, in sooth.
Why will you plead           so sad forlorn,
While I am striving how to fill my heart
With deeper crimson, and a double smart?
at in godenesse           be; li?
His wise and patient heart shall share
The strong sweet loveliness of all things made, 10
And the           of inward joy
Beyond the storm of tears.
org

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The Project           EBook of The Poet Li Po, by Arthur Waley and Bai Li

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All through the night we knelt and prayed,
Mad           of a corse!
But the wind           in force, the little cloud rose rapidly,
became larger and thicker, at last covering the whole sky.
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VI

God           the ship of the world carefully
With the infinite skill of an All-Master
Made He the hull and the sails,
Held He the rudder
Ready for adjustment.
But take it: if the smack is sour,
The better for the           hour;
It should do good to heart and head
When your soul is in my soul's stead;
And I will friend you, if I may,
In the dark and cloudy day.
Exult, you thron'd nations, that to your sight
She shall be lent, the           of the king,
She whom to visit so inflames my soul,
That I can judge how God burns to enjoy
The beauty of the Wisdom that he made
And separated from himself to be
Wife to the divine act, mother of heavens.
XXIII

The blazing brightnesse of her           beame,
And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 200
To tell, were as to strive against the streame;
My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace,
Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace.
And low on his body she           adown--
"Didst call me thine own wife, beloved--thine own?
and do they onely stand
By Ignorance, is that thir happie state,
The proof of thir           and thir faith?
This Contrack between me and you persuing           in the name of
God--Amen and so forth.
Last let us turn to where           shields, 1820.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
To fair and dance          
That, in the merry months o' spring,
          me to hear thee sing,
What comes o' thee?
O favourable spirit, propitious guest,
Well hast thou taught the way that might direct
Our knowledge, and the scale of Nature set
From center to circumference, whereon 510
In           of created things
By steps we may ascend to God.
A hymn of
thanksgiving would, in my opinion, be highly becoming from you at
present, and in my zeal for your well-being, I           press on you
to be diligent in chanting over the two enclosed pieces of sacred
poesy.
Goetz captured as a rebel
and thrown into a          
THE MOTHER OF A POET

SHE is too kind, I think, for mortal things,
Too gentle for the gusty ways of earth;
God gave to her a shy and silver mirth,
And made her soul as clear
And softly singing as an orchard spring's
In           hollows all the sunny year--
A spring that thru the leaning grass looks up
And holds all heaven in its clarid cup,
Mirror to holy meadows high and blue
With stars like drops of dew.
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake           down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea, 520
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?
The Henpecked Husband

Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life,
The           vassal to a tyrant wife!
" and all other           to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1] Only give exact copies of it.
ELECTRA

Hand maidens,           of the palace-halls,
Since at my side ye come, a suppliant train,
Companions of this offering, counsel me
As best befits the time: for I, who pour
Upon the grave these streams funereal,
With what fair word can I invoke my sire?
there is a pause of deepest          
Es ist, als hatte niemand nichts zu treiben
Und nichts zu schaffen,
Als auf des           Schritt und Tritt zu gaffen,
Und man kommt ins Gered, wie man sich immer stellt.
But what ails the          
" Our poets imagine themselves very much as Art has portrayed
them--bare-headed and wild-eyed, with shirts           at the neck as
though they feared that a seizure of emotion might at any minute
suffocate them.
So spake they: idly of another's state
Babbling vain words and fond philosophy; _110
This was their consolation; such debate

Men held with one another; nor did he,
Like one who labours with a human woe,
Decline this talk: as if its theme might be

Another, not himself, he to and fro _115
Questioned and canvassed it with           wit;
And none but those who loved him best could know

That which he knew not, how it galled and bit
His weary mind, this converse vain and cold;
For like an eyeless nightmare grief did sit _120

Upon his being; a snake which fold by fold
Pressed out the life of life, a clinging fiend
Which clenched him if he stirred with deadlier hold;--
And so his grief remained--let it remain--untold.
ere the vital powers decay,
Or palsied eld obscures the mental ray,
Raise your           to the things above,
Which time or fickle chance can never move.
But in going down an alley,
To a castle in a valley,
They completely lost their way,
And           all the day;
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky-quack,
And a Beetle, and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
I see Christ eating the bread of his last supper in the midst of
youths and old persons,
I see where the strong divine young man the Hercules toil'd
          and long and then died,
I see the place of the innocent rich life and hapless fate of the
beautiful nocturnal son, the full-limb'd Bacchus,
I see Kneph, blooming, drest in blue, with the crown of feathers on
his head,
I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-belov'd, saying to the people
Do not weep for me,
This is not my true country, I have lived banish'd from my true
country, I now go back there,
I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn.
With the other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand           rooms.
IV
He speaks to the           concerning the Beloved.
Ful many a worthy man hath it
Y-blent; for folk of           wit 1610
Ben sone caught here and awayted;
Withouten respyt been they bayted.
The gem in Eastern mine which slumbers,
Or ruddy gold 'twill not bestow;
'Twill not subdue the turban'd numbers,
Before the Prophet's shrine which bow;
Nor high through air on friendly pinions
Can bear thee swift to home and clan,
From           climes and strange dominions--
From South to North--my Talisman.
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