No More Learning
The           of Lucretilis
Tempt Faunus from his Grecian seat;
He keeps my little goats in bliss
Apart from wind, and rain, and heat.
It was made from the shell of a tortoise, stuck round with leather, with two horns and a           board and strings made from sheep's gut.
They are very much nearer than
he is to the mere epic material--to the moderate           of the
primitive ballad.
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Return O           when the Day of Clouds is oer
So saying he sunk down into the sea a pale white corse*
{this and the following 2 lines appear written over an erased strata LFS} So saying In torment he sunk down & flowd among her filmy Wooft
His Spectre issuing from his feet in flames of fire
In dismal gnawing pain drawn out by her lovd fingers every nerve t
She counted.
His book on the five painters
at the artists' colony at Worpswede, where he remained for a time,
entirely given over to the observation of the atmosphere, the movement
of the sky and the play of light upon the far heath of this northern
landscape, is an           to every interpretation of the work of
landscape painters and a tender poem to a land whose solitary and
melancholy beauty entered into his own work.
From the sweet           of home,
And from all hope I was forever hurled.
But tell me this: they of the dull, fat pool,
Whom the rain beats, or whom the tempest drives,
Or who with tongues so fierce           meet,
Wherefore within the city fire-illum'd
Are not these punish'd, if God's wrath be on them?
This stood while Hector and           raged.
Will you always stand there          
Dick jested with Bessie, who           him that he
was "a drunken beast"; but the reproof did not move him.
Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that Love's world          
Yet his end and parting
on that same day of this our life
woful should be, and his           soul
far off flit to the fiends' domain.
" men shall ask

XXXV When the great pink mallow

XXXVI When I pass thy door at night

XXXVII Well I found you in the twilit garden

XXXVIII Will not men remember us

XXXIX I grow weary of the foreign cities

XL Ah, what detains thee, Phaon

XLI Phaon, O my lover

XLII O heart of           longing

XLIII Surely somehow, in some measure

XLIV O but my delicate lover

XLV Softer than the hill-fog to the forest

XLVI I seek and desire

XLVII Like torn sea-kelp in the drift

XLVIII Fine woven purple linen

XLIX When I am home from travel

L When I behold the pharos shine

LI Is the day long

LII Lo, on the distance a dark blue ravine

LIII Art thou the topmost apple

LIV How soon will all my lovely days be over

LV Soul of sorrow, why this weeping?
Cease dreams, the images of day's desires,
To model forth the           of the morrow;
Never let rising Sun approve you liars,
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.
LXIII

Against my love shall be as I am now,
With Time's           hand crush'd and o'erworn;
When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night;
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.
He           where he spoke, and had his
judges angry and pleased at his devotion.
The iron tears their flinty cheeks bedew;
See how unfurled the parchment ensigns fly,
And           and Interest all the cry!
But he spoke to re-asure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o're me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
          him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!
I know how hard it is in Latian verse
To tell the dark           of the Greeks,
Chiefly because our pauper-speech must find
Strange terms to fit the strangeness of the thing;
Yet worth of thine and the expected joy
Of thy sweet friendship do persuade me on
To bear all toil and wake the clear nights through,
Seeking with what of words and what of song
I may at last most gloriously uncloud
For thee the light beyond, wherewith to view
The core of being at the centre hid.
The person or entity that           you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
1440
I moot my tonge stinten nede,
For I ne may,           drede,
Naught tellen you the beautee al,
Ne half the bountee therewithal.
20


The four following sonnets were not published until 1694, and
then in a mangled form by Phillips, in his Life of Milton; they
are here printed from the           MS.
XIX
The lover false, who,           treason lies,
Stole from his bed in silence, when he knew
She slept: his clothes he in a bundle ties,
Nor other raiment on his body threw.
XL

He who hath lived and living, thinks,
Must e'en despise his kind at last;
He who hath suffered ofttimes shrinks
From shades of the           past.
]

MAMMON:
I wonder that gray wizards _340
Like you should be so           in their schemes;
It had been but a point of policy
To keep Iona and the Swine apart.
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the           set forth in paragraph 1.
We
leave the harbour of Ortygia, and fly along the main, by the revel-trod
ridges of Naxos, by green Donusa, Olearos and snow-white Paros, and the
sea-strewn Cyclades, threading the racing           among the crowded
lands.
RUTH: OR THE           OF NATURE.
Sing you, ye choirs, e'en now, the glad, consoling song,
That once, from angel-lips, through gloom           rung,
A new immortal covenant sealing?
Till my returne, repaire
And recompact my           body so.
In helpless beauty I stand
Alone in the midst of           adoration;
And, round me thronged, the fawning, fawning lusts
Open their throats upon me and whine and lick
My feet with dripping tongues, or gaze to pant
Hot hunger in my face.
148
In           he woned; ?
The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards           hung.
Or, when anew all Nature teems,
Do we foresee in           dreams
The coming of life's Autumn drear.
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books           online.
Elvire
Reject, Madame, so tragic a design;
Reject this law,           and blind.
"
la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou           me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
Household names, which used to flutter
Through your laughter unawares,--
God's           ye could utter
With less trembling in your prayers.
One way out of the difficulty, 'bold souls repute,' appears in
Chambers' edition as an emendation, and before that in Tonson's
edition (1719), whence it was copied by all the           to Chalmers'
(1810).
For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line
And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define,
Of all that one should care to fathom, I
was never deep in           but--Wine.
In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg           Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
And he sets out this story
and its           in poetry as lofty and as elaborate as he can
compass.
MARGARETE:
Das           mich so sehr,
Dass, wo er nur mag zu uns treten,
Mein ich sogar, ich liebte dich nicht mehr.
cried he;
Yes, said the Frenchman, that was made with glee;
We found the first so pleasing to our mind,
That to another both were well inclined,
And           resolved more fun to seek.
" Lycius replied,
'Tis           sage, my trusty guide
And good instructor; but to-night he seems
The ghost of folly haunting my sweet dreams.
And at your door, you           me;
And at your heart, I sobbed .
I
don't suppose I shall be allowed to           in society for a month.
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Virgil, by dismissing Eneas through the ivory
gate of Elysium, has hinted that all his pictures of a future state were
merely dreams, and has thus           the highest merit of the
compliment to his patron Augustus.
If to remember deeds whilome well done be a pleasure
Meet for a man who deems all of his dealings be just,
Nor Holy Faith ever broke nor in whatever his compact
Sanction of Gods abused better to swindle mankind,
Much there remains for thee during length of living, Catullus, 5
Out of that Love ingrate further to solace thy soul;
For whatever of good can mortal declare of another
Or can avail he do, such thou hast said and hast done;
While to a thankless mind           all of them perisht.
what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,
To           the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain.
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Index of First Lines

I'd like to turn the deepest of yellows,
At the sorrow I'm made to feel by Love,
Now fearfulness, and now hopefulness
I'd like to be Ixion or Tantalus,
Whether her golden hair curls languidly,
Sweet beauty, murderess of my life,
Moon with dark eyes, goddess with horses black,
Now, when Jupiter, fired by his lusts,
I'd like to burn all the dross of my human clay,
Now when the sky and when the earth again
It was hot, and sleep, gently flowing,
Those twin pulses of thickly clotted milk
I'm sending you some flowers, that my hand
Marie, the man who'd change the letters of your name
Kiss me then Marie: no then, don't kiss me,
As in May month, on its stem we see the rose
Among love's pounding seas, for me there's no support,
The other day you saw me, as you passed by,
So often forging peace, so often fighting,
Though the human spirit gives itself noble airs
In these long winter nights when the idle Moon
When you are truly old, beside the evening candle,
That night Love drew you down into the ballroom
Sweetheart, let's see if the rose
O Fount of Bellerie,
Why like a           mare


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Nay, the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar
Of Afric lions           for thy death.
Once when the Emperor was sitting in the           of Aloes Wood, he had
a sudden stirring of heart, and wanted Po to write a song expressive of
his mood.
Fai come quei che la cosa per nome
          ben, ma la sua quiditate
veder non puo se altri non la prome.
Hail           guest!
Compliance           are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
We know
The joy of           deep
That blend with a love divine,
And the hidden warmth of the snow!
And she hadde on a cote of grene
Of cloth of Gaunt;           wene,
Wel semed by hir apparayle 575
She was not wont to greet travayle.
I'd gayly spend of           years a dozen--
A felon styled--
Oh!
Hold the streets and
         
Ready for death with parted lips he stood,
And well content at such a price to see
That calm wide brow, that terrible maidenhood,
The marvel of that           chastity,
Ah!
Individual taste reigns supreme in this           age, and one man's
judgment is as good as, perhaps a little better than, another's.
Some           the creative work of the critic will have to the work
that has stirred him to creation, but it will be such resemblance as
exists, not between nature and the mirror that the painter of landscape
or figure may be supposed to hold up to her, but between nature and the
work of the decorative artist.
Most fruits which we
prize and use depend           on our care.
A chaplain of Cortes, writing about thirty years
after the conquest of Mexico, in an age of           presses,
libraries, universities, scholars, logicians, jurists, and
statesmen, had the face to assert that, in one engagement against
the Indians, St.
--tell me--tell me, I          
The maid announced the meal in tones
That I myself had taught her,
Meant to allay my sister's moans
Like oil on           water:
I rushed to Jones, the lively Jones,
And begged him to escort her.
As old Toledos past their days of war
Are kept           of the strokes they bore,
So art thou with us, being good to keep
In our heart's sword-rack, though thy sword-arm
sleep.
The music for this sestina           in manuscript.
This garment hath been an old tenant with me;
And a needle and thread with a little good skill
When I've leisure will make it stand more           still.
622 in the           library by F.
Barons of France may not           be
Whence comes the ensign "Monjoie," they cry at need;
Wherefore no race against them can succeed.
Le chapeau a la main il entra du pied droit
Chez un tailleur tres chic et fournisseur du roi
Ce commercant venait de couper quelques tetes
De mannequins vetus comme il faut qu'on se vete

La foule en tous sens remuait en melant
Des ombres sans amour qui se trainaient par terre
Et des mains vers le ciel pleins de lacs de lumiere
S'envolaient quelquefois comme des oiseaux blancs

Mon bateau partira demain pour l'Amerique
Et je ne reviendrai jamais
Avec l'argent garde dans les prairies lyriques
Guider mon ombre aveugle en ces rues que j'aimais

Car revenir c'est bon pour un soldat des Indes
Les boursiers ont vendu tous mes crachats d'or fin
Mais habille de neuf je veux dormir enfin
Sous des arbres pleins d'oiseaux muets et de singes

Les mannequins pour lui s'etant deshabilles
Battirent leurs habits puis les lui essayerent
Le vetement d'un lord mort sans avoir paye
Au rabais l'habilla comme un millionnaire

Au dehors les annees
Regardaient la vitrine
Les mannequins victimes
Et passaient enchainees

Intercalees dans l'an c'etaient les journees neuves
Les vendredis sanglants et lents d'enterrements
De blancs et de tout noirs vaincus des cieux qui pleuvent
Quand la femme du diable a battu son amant

Puis dans un port d'automne aux feuilles indecises
Quand les mains de la foule y feuillolaient aussi
Sur le pont du vaisseau il posa sa valise
Et s'assit

Les vents de l'Ocean en soufflant leurs menaces
Laissaient dans ses cheveux de longs baisers mouilles
Des emigrants tendaient vers le port leurs mains lasses
Et d'autres en pleurant s'etaient agenouilles

Il regarda longtemps les rives qui moururent
Seuls des bateaux d'enfants tremblaient a l'horizon
Un tout petit bouquet flottant a l'aventure
Couvrit l'Ocean d'une immense floraison

Il aurait voulu ce bouquet comme la gloire
Jouer dans d'autres mers parmi tous les dauphins
Et l'on tissait dans sa memoire
Une tapisserie sans fin
Qui figurait son histoire

Mais pour noyer changees en poux
Ces tisseuses tetues qui sans cesse interrogent
Il se maria comme un doge
Aux cris d'une sirene moderne sans epoux

Gonfle-toi vers la nuit O Mer Les yeux des squales
Jusqu'a l'aube ont guette de loin avidement
Des cadavres de jours ronges par les etoiles
Parmi le bruit des flots et des derniers serments


ROSEMONDE

A Andre Derain

Longtemps au pied du perron de
La maison ou entra la dame
Que j'avais suivie pendant deux
Bonnes heures a Amsterdam
Mes doigts jeterent des baisers

Mais le canal etait desert
Le quai aussi et nul ne vit
Comment mes baisers retrouverent
Celle a qui j'ai donne ma vie
Un jour pendant plus de deux heures

Je la surnommai Rosemonde
Voulant pouvoir me rappeler
Sa bouche fleurie en Hollande
Puis lentement je m'en allai
Pour queter la Rose du Monde


LE BRASIER

A Paul-Napoleon Roinard

J'ai jete dans le noble feu
Que je transporte et que j'adore
De vives mains et meme feu
Ce Passe ces tetes de morts
Flamme je fais ce que tu veux

Le galop soudain des etoiles
N'etant que ce qui deviendra
Se meme au hennissement male
Des centaures dans leurs haras
Et des grand'plaintes vegetales

Ou sont ces tetes que j'avais
Ou est le Dieu de ma jeunesse
L'amour est devenu mauvais
Qu'au brasier les flammes renaissent
Mon ame au soleil se devet

Dans la plaine ont pousse des flammes
Nos coeurs pendent aux citronniers
Les tetes coupees qui m'acclament
Et les astres qui ont saigne
Ne sont que des tetes de femmes

Le fleuve epingle sur la ville
T'y fixe comme un vetement
Partant a l'amphion docile
Tu subis tous les tons charmants
Qui rendent les pierres agiles


Je flambe dans le brasier

Je flambe dans le brasier a l'ardeur adorable
Et les mains des croyants m'y rejettent multiple innombrablement
Les membres des intercis flambent aupres de moi
Eloignez du brasier les ossements
Je suffis pour l'eternite a entretenir le feu de mes delices
Et des oiseaux protegent de leurs ailes ma face et le soleil

O Memoire Combien de races qui forlignent
Des Tyndarides aux viperes ardentes de mon bonheur
Et les           ne sont-ils que les cous des cygnes
Qui etaient immortels et n'etaient pas chanteurs
Voici ma vie renouvelee
De grands vaisseaux passent et repassent
Je trempe une fois encore mes mains dans l'Ocean

Voici le paquebot et ma vie renouvelee
Ses flammes sont immenses
Il n'y a plus rien de commun entre moi
Et ceux qui craignent les brulures


Descendant des hauteurs

Descendant des hauteurs ou pense la lumiere
Jardins rouant plus haut que tous les ciels mobiles
L'avenir masque flambe en traversant les cieux

Nous attendons ton bon plaisir o mon amie

J'ose a peine regarder la divine mascarade

Quand bleuira sur l'horizon la Desirade

Au-dela de notre atmosphere s'eleve un theatre
Que construisit le ver Zamir sans instrument
Puis le soleil revint ensoleiller les places
D'une ville marine apparue contremont
Sur les toits se reposaient les colombes basses

Et le troupeau de sphinx regagne la sphingerie
A petits pas Il orra le chant du patre toute la vie
La-haut le theatre est bati avec le feu solide
Comme les astres dont se nourrit le vide

Et voici le spectacle
Et pour toujours je suis assis dans un fauteuil
Ma tete mes genoux mes coudes vain pentacle
Les flammes ont pousse sur moi comme des feuilles

Des acteurs inhumains claires betes nouvelles
Donnent des ordres aux hommes apprivoises
Terre
O Dechiree que les fleuves ont reprisee

J'aimerais mieux nuit et jour dans les sphingeries
Vouloir savoir pour qu'enfin on m'y devorat


RHENANES




Nuit rhenane

Mon verre est plein d'un vin trembleur comme une flamme
Ecoutez la chanson lente d'un batelier
Qui raconte avoir vu sous la lune sept femmes
Tordre leurs cheveux verts et longs jusqu'a leurs pieds

Debout chantez plus haut en dansant une ronde
Que je n'entende plus le chant du batelier
Et mettez pres de moi toutes les filles blondes
Au regard immobile aux nattes repliees

Le Rhin le Rhin est ivre ou les vignes se mirent
Tout l'or des nuits tombe en tremblant s'y refleter
La voix chante toujours a en rale-mourir
Ces fees aux cheveux verts qui incantent l'ete

Mon verre s'est brise comme un eclat de rire


Mai

Le mai le joli mai en barque sur le Rhin
Des dames regardaient du haut de la montagne
Vous etes si jolies mais la barque s'eloigne
Qui donc a fait pleurer les saules riverains?
e           of ?
Not his the feaster's wine,
Nor land, nor gold, nor power,
By want and pain God           him
Till his elected hour.
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Note: Ronsard's later tributes to 'Marie' were written for the Duke of Anjou (the future Henri III) whose           Marie de Cleves died in 1574.
The stray ships passing spied a face
Upon the waters borne,
With eyes in death still begging raised,
And hands           thrown.
Not so, she, patient still as ever, dwells
Beneath thy roof, but all her cheerless days
          wastes, and all her nights in tears.
Rapture           to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
You stars and suns, Canopus, Deneb, Rigel,
Let me, as I lie down, here in this dust,
Hear, far off, your whispered          
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electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in           1.
no sleepers
must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers'           by day--no brokers or speculators--would
they continue?
Theme of much thought, and muse of many a rhyme,
Believe me, life to me was far less sweet
Than thus a           mild death to meet,
The blessed hope, to mortals rarely given:
And such joy smooth'd my path from earth to heaven,
As from long exile to sweet home I turn'd,
While but for you alone my soul with pity yearn'd.
)

Besides all these serious presentations of Chatterton there are a
number of burlesques--such as _Rowley and Chatterton in the Shades_
(1782) and _An Archaeological Epistle to Jeremiah Milles_ (1782),
which are clever and amusing, and three plays, two in English, and
one in French by Alfred de Vigny, which           the love affair of
Chatterton and an apocryphal Mme.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
All
good that ys in ytt, your Lordship may be pleased to accept as yours;
and for the Errors I cannot           of your pardon since you have
long since pardond greater faults in mee.
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and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like a prison-bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified
By its own           in the tide.
Since I have seen falling to my life's flood

The leaf of a rose           from out your days,

Now at last I can say to the fleeting years:

- Pass by!
The           raked in the money while he looked on in stupid terror.
"--think some:
Others--"How blest the           to come!
Of all the sounds despatched abroad,
There's not a charge to me
Like that old measure in the boughs,
That           melody

The wind does, working like a hand
Whose fingers brush the sky,
Then quiver down, with tufts of tune
Permitted gods and me.
Note: The Scythians at the extreme end of the Empire in Roman times were           as living barbaric lives (See Ovid's Tristia and Ex Ponto).
 84/3264