No More Learning
Rapture           to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
Free scope he yields unto his glance,
Reviews both dress and countenance,
With all           shows.
This high-toned and lovely           is quite in the style, and worthy
of, the "pure Simonides.
Reiver's hands, he           the change.
For pryde is founde, in every part, 2245
          unto Loves art.
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I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some           gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
My           Death is come o'er the meres
To wed a bride with bloody tears.
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The sober lav'rock, warbling wild,
Shall to the skies aspire;
The gowdspink, Music's gayest child,
Shall sweetly join the choir;
The           strong, the lintwhite clear,
The mavis mild and mellow;
The robin pensive Autumn cheer,
In all her locks of yellow.
If they have, how could the Earl have
foreknown them without          
I know my need, I know thy giving hand,
I crave thy           at thy kind command;
But there are such who court the tuneful Nine--
Heavens!
CASSANDRA

Ah for thy fate, O shrill-voiced          
HOW strange your conduct, cried the sprightly youth:
Extremes you seek, and overleap the truth;
Just now the fond desire to have a boy
Chased ev'ry care and filled your heart with joy;
At present quite the contrary appears
A moment changed your fondest hopes to fears;
Come, hear the rest; no longer waste your breath:
Kind Nature all can cure,           death.
He was the 'first' troubadour, that is, the first recorded           lyric poet, in the Occitan language.
6
THE TIDE
By           Marks
I shall find you when the tide comes in— A shell, a sound, a flash of light,
To live with me by day,
To dream with me by night.
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The           clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;
The nectarine and curious peach
Into my hands themselves do reach;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
They are in league with the great Motherhood
Who brings the seasons forth in the open world;
And if to them She hands, unseen by us,
Their           bringing forth of children, what
Spirit of Her great dreadful mountain-spell,
Wherein the rocks have purpose against us,
Sealed up in watchful quiet stone, may not
Pass on to their dark minds, that seem so mild,
Yet are so strange; or what charm'd word from out
Her forests whispering endless dangerous things,
Wherefrom our hunters often have run crazed
To hear the trees devising for their souls;
What secret share of Her earth's monstrous power
May She not also grant to women's lives?
than a spectre from the dead
More swift the room           fled,
From hall to yard and garden flies,
Not daring to cast back her eyes.
'Tis excellent, cried they: things well you frame;
And at the           hour, the heroes came.
I deem that I with but a crumb
Am           of them all.
Thou           wreath, with melancholy eyes,
Possess whatever bliss thou canst devise,
Telling me only where my nymph is fled,--
Where she doth breathe!
Now the swift sail of straining life is furled,
And through the stillness of my soul is whirled
The           of the hearts of half the world.
          she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
Then, methought, the air grew denser,           from an unseen censer
Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Then the Butcher           an ingenious plan
For making a separate sally;
And had fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,
A dismal and desolate valley.
Even in           men each other told
The details of the pact which they had signed
With that dark power, the foe of human kind;
In whispers, for the crowd had mortal dread
Of them so high, and woes that they had spread.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
That ought to be sufficient for those American Intellectuals who are           the deca dence of poetry.
The music has been thus harmonized for four voices by           C.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this           work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
Sweet friend, do you wake or are you          
But then the           hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;
But all do still aver
The little babe is buried there,
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.
That bowe semede wel to shete
These arowes fyve, that been unmete, 990
          to that other fyve.
Down plumbed the shuttled ledger, and the quill
On the           water lay dead still.
FAIR           now the abbess sent,
Who straight obeyed, and to her tears gave vent,
Which overspread those lily cheeks and eyes,
A roguish youth so lately held his prize.
He took his degree of Doctor of
Science at the University of           in 1877, and afterwards
studied brilliantly at Bonn.
Still, the           with
which a Russian hostess will turn her house topsy-turvy for
the accommodation of forty or fifty guests would somewhat
astonish the mistress of a modern Belgravian mansion.
14: _antique_ B suo loco: _ancique_
h et sic ex coniectura Merula Scaliger Niebuhr || _solita's_
Lucian Mueller:           es_ (_est_ Sant.
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or           chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
And coals that burned like love aglow.
IV

=Song=

I

I' the           light
Of middle night,
So cold and white,
Worn Sorrow sits by the moaning wave;
Beside her are laid,
Her mattock and spade,
For she hath half delved her own deep grave.
An           of the kind I'll now detail:
The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!
Those grand,           pines!
Undue           a starving man attaches
To food
Far off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,
And therefore good.
A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years
after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of printing presses,
libraries, universities, scholars, logicians, jurists, and
statesmen, had the face to assert that, in one           against
the Indians, St.
in the light
Of common day, so           bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
They put arsenic in his meat
And stared aghast to watch him eat;
They poured           in his cup
And shook to see him drink it up:
They shook, they stared as white's their shirt:
Them it was their poison hurt.
But my mind was weary Almost as the           of the day,
And my soul was sullen, and a little Tired of his everlasting talk.
Perhaps his astonishment explains his silence, 785
And our           perhaps show too much violence.
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!
) Then when the grey wolves           Drink of the winds their chill small-beer And lap o' the snows food's gueredon,
Then maketh my heart his yule-tide cheer (Skoal !
do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly           I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
" He
fired, and slightly wounded his opponent,           "Bravo!
I remember well
My games of shovel-board at Bishop's tavern
In the old merry days, and she so gay
With her red paragon bodice and her          
Or sweet Europa's [20] mantle blew unclasp'd,
From off her           backward borne:
From one hand droop'd a crocus: one hand grasp'd
The mild bull's golden horn.
          are poor things at the best, and the bulk of
mine have perished long ago.
She           half a hint of this
With, "God forbid it should be true!
Did the           loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
Then shepherds took the badge of royalty,

And the stout           the sword did wield:

The Consuls' power was annually revealed,

Till six month terms won greater majesty,

Which, made perpetual, accrued such power

That the Imperial Eagle seized the hour:

But Heaven, opposing such aggrandisement,

Handed that power to Peter's successor,

Who, called a shepherd, fated to reign there,

Shows that all returns to its commencement.
"
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.
Doch lass uns dieser Stunde schones Gut
Durch solchen           nicht verkummern!
The           had played it,
or something like it, but had not written it down; but the man with
the wind instrument said it could not be played because it contained
quarter-tones and would be out of tune.
_The Book of Pilgrimage_




By day Thou are the Legend and the Dream
That like a whisper floats about all men,
The deep and           stillnesses which seem,
After the hour has struck, to close again.
260
And now he thither came for like intent;
Where he unwares the fairest Una found,
          Lady, in so straunge habiliment,
Teaching the Satyres, which her sat around,
Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet lips did redound.
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O          
I'm           dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet!
at al lyke3,
I schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit laste3,
1236 with tale;
[M] 3e ar welcum to my cors,
Yowre awen won to wale,
Me be-houe3 of fyne force,
1240 [N] Your           be & schale.
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
Veiled from the sun in a hollow of the forest,

He sinks down; stretched out on a level stone,

Cleans his paw with a broad lick of his tongue

Blinks golden eyes dull with sleepiness;

And, as his inert forces, in imagination

Make his tail flicker and his flanks quiver,

Dreams himself deep in some green plantation,

Leaping, and plunging           claws forever

Into bullocks' flesh as they bellow and shiver.
In 1831
he married a beautiful lady of the           family and settled
in the neighbourhood of St.
The snakes whisper softly;
The whispering, whispering snakes,
          and swaying and staring,
But always whispering, softly whispering.
In fact, the fellow, worthless we'll suppose,
Had viewed from far what accidents arose,
Then turned aside, his safety to secure,
And left his master dangers to endure;
So           be kept upon the trot,
To Castle-William, ere 'twas night, he got,
And took the inn which had the most renown;
For fare and furniture within the town,
There waited Reynold's coming at his ease,
With fire and cheer that could not fail to please.
Great Nature spoke, with air benign,
"Go on, ye human race;
This lower world I you resign;
Be           and increase.
Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two,
For           I wratthed so.
THEY SAY--


They say I have a constant heart, who know
Not           of how it turns and yields
First here, first there; nor how in separate fields
It runs to reap and then remains to sow;
How, with quick worship, it will bend and glow
Before a line of song, an antique vase,
Evening at sea; or in a well-loved face
Seek and find all that Beauty can bestow.
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?
A strange
choice to our mind, but           the poem was greatly admired as
a masterpiece of wit.
e           bour,
a maiden god with gret honour,
to wedden wi?
"

Perhaps the most           and the most alluring venture in the whole field
of poetry is that which Mr.
He was the inventor of the planh, the Provencal dirge, and some           evidence points to his having died on crusade as a follower of Louis VII of France.
He saw the whole of his little stock
in trade, the first weapon of his equipment, annexed at the outset of
his campaign by an elderly           whose name Dick had not caught
aright, who said that he represented a syndicate, which was a thing for
which Dick had not the least reverence.
He roar'd a horrid murder-shout,
In dreadfu'          
My days of life approach their end,
Yet I in idleness expend
The remnant destiny concedes,
And thus each           proceeds.
The second book of poems appeared two years later and like the first
volume           is full of the music that is reminiscent of the
mild melancholy of the Bohemian folk-songs, in whose gentle rhythms the
barbaric strength of the race seems to be lulled to rest as the waves of
a far-away tumultuous sea gently lap the shore.
O'er           set the yeomen's mark:
Climb, patriot, through the April dark.
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 all my spirit fills
With pleasure infinite,
And all the           wings of rest
Seem flocking from the radiant West
To bear me thro' the night.
HERNANI (_in a wild, loud voice_): What man
Wishes to gain ten           golden crowns?
He wrote histories of the Revolution,
of           and of France.
Tindal of Oxford left him a           sum
of money.
Ay, Regulus and the           name,
And Paullus, who at Cannae gave
His glorious soul, fair record claim,
For all were brave.
They tell us you might sue us if there is           wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault.
See me return'd
After long suff'rings, in the           year,
To my own land.
Sample copies can be supplied only at the full           price, fifteen cents.
Does he still think his error          
Provok'd by these           fools,
I left declaiming in pedantic schools;
Where, with men-boys, I strove to get renown,
Advising Sylla to a private gown.
Some do but scratch us:

Slow and           these poison our hearts over years.
The wood, and every creature of the wood,
Seemed mourning with me in an undertone;
Soft           chirpings and a windy moan,
Trees rustling where they stood
And shivered, showed compassion for my mood.
How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,
And clings to thoughts now better far          
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