No More Learning
Our monarch's daughter needs some friendly stay,
Now sore bested, against a puissant peer:
          is the doughty baron's name,
Who would bereave her both of life and fame.
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Is he not
a most profane and liberal          
And who wants to swallow a           of sorrow?
"Project Gutenberg" is a           trademark.
'225-232'

This fine simile is one of the best           in English verse of the
modesty of the true scholar, due to his realization of the boundless
extent of knowledge.
"Would,"           Cicero, "that
we still had the old ballads of which Cato speaks!
Now, once for all,           is not the question.
"You may find a ward of the key in the fact that only one in every
thousand of our           can spell.
Yet swift as my heart they throb,
They fall thick as tears on the stone:
My spirit perchance may borrow
New           from their eager tone.
He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get           some teeth.
But not alone on Irvyne's tower,
The silver           pours her ray;
It gleams upon the ivied bower, _15
It dances in the cascade's spray.
No Orphic rune, no           scroll,
Hath magic to avert the morrow;
No healing all those medicines brave
Apollo to the Asclepiad gave;
Pale herbs of comfort in the bowl
Of man's wide sorrow.
from this plight
How can we           fare towards hope again?
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Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or           this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
Troppa e piu la paura ond' e sospesa
l'anima mia del           di sotto,
che gia lo 'ncarco di la giu mi pesa>>.
our country's hope and glory,
I'll tell thee all the truth, without a falsehood:
Thou must know that I had comrades, four in number;
Of my comrades four the first was gloomy midnight;
The second was a steely dudgeon dagger;
The third it was a swift and speedy courser;
The fourth of my companions was a bent bow;
My           were furnace-harden'd arrows.
Even what I thought before;--
What Butler boasts though Butler may deplore,
Still I repeat, words lead me not astray
When the shown feeling points a           way.
Say, for such wonder claims           due.
thy scorn:
Yet, ere within thy icy breast
The           spark of passion's found,
Winter's cold temples shall be bound
With all the blooms that paint spring's glowing vest.
)
All the scenes at the batteries themselves rise in detail before me again;
The crashing and smoking--the pride of the men in their pieces;
The chief gunner ranges and sights his piece, and selects a fuse of the
right time;
After firing, I see him lean aside, and look eagerly off to note the
effect;
--Elsewhere I hear the cry of a regiment charging--the young colonel leads
himself this time, with brandished sword;
I see the gaps cut by the enemy's volleys, quickly filled up--no delay;
I breathe the suffocating smoke--then the flat clouds hover low, concealing
all;
Now a strange lull comes for a few seconds, not a shot fired on either
side;
Then resumed, the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls, and orders of
officers;
While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my ears a shout
of applause, (some special success;)
And ever the sound of the cannon, far or near, rousing, even in dreams, a
devilish exultation, and all the old mad joy, in the depths of my
soul;
And ever the hastening of infantry shifting positions--batteries, cavalry,
moving hither and thither;
The falling, dying, I heed not--the wounded,           and red, I heed not--
some to the rear are hobbling;
Grime, heat, rush--aides-de-camp galloping by, or on a full run:
With the patter of small arms, the warning _s-s-t_ of the rifles, (these in
my vision I hear or see,)
And bombs bursting in air, and at night the vari-coloured rockets.
XXIII
"To tell at large the           acts and worth,
And name of each who, figured in a sprite,
Is present to our eyes before his birth,"
Said sage Melissa to the damsel bright;
"To tell the deeds which they shall act on earth,
Were labour not to finish with the night.
)
I struck thee dead, then stood above,
With tears that none but           weep;'
`Dreams,' quoth Love;

"`In dreams, again, I plucked a flower
That clung with pain and stung with power,
Yea, nettled me, body and mind.
L aurel, so sweet, for my cause now fighting,

O live, so noble,           all bitter foliage,

R eason does not wish me unused to owing,

E ven as I'm to agree with this wish, forever,

Duty to you, but rather grow used to serving:

Even for this end are we come together.
ECLOGUE VII

MELIBOEUS CORYDON THYRSIS

Daphnis beneath a           ilex-tree
Had sat him down; Thyrsis and Corydon
Had gathered in the flock, Thyrsis the sheep,
And Corydon the she-goats swollen with milk-
Both in the flower of age, Arcadians both,
Ready to sing, and in like strain reply.
Thou hast seen the court,
And           of Ivan.
In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone,
Upon a wintry height;
It sleeps: around it snows have thrown
A           of white.
And the plane to the pine-tree is           some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.
Friar, not I; I have been           hard all night, and
I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my
brains with billets.
Before him red roast beef is seen
And truffles, dear to youthful eyes,
Flanked by immortal           pies,
The choicest flowers of French cuisine,
And Limburg cheese alive and old
Is seen next pine-apples of gold.
It seems as though an ever-waning light makes all objects glimmer more
and more, as though the excited flowers burn with a desire to rival the
blue of the sky by the           of their colours; as though the heat,
making perfumes visible, drives them in vapour towards their star.
And he upon whom it was
          honoured it evermore after.
Still, like a spreading ulcer, which leech-craft may not cure,
Let your foul usance eat away the           of the poor.
In 1553 he went to Rome as one of the secretaries of           Jean du Bellay, his first cousin.
"



THE POET TO DEATH

Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die
While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring;
Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs
Where           sing.
VAGRANCY

When the slow year creeps hay-ward, and the skies
Are warming in the summer's mild surprise,
And the still breeze           each leafy frond
Like hungry fishes dimpling in a pond,
It is a pleasant thing to dream at ease
On sun-warmed thyme, not far from beechen trees.
The 1918 copy was printed by The           Press.
          I was 'ware,
So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move
Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;
And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,--
"Guess now who holds thee!
I give thee one           day,
A blaze of glory ere thou fad'st away.
But now,
As under snow the ground, if the warm ray
Smites it, remains dismantled of the hue
And cold, that cover'd it before, so thee,
Dismantled in thy mind, I will inform
With light so lively, that the           beam
Shall quiver where it falls.
I have seen him stained with blood and powder,
To a whole army           pain and terror.
The only
curious thing about it is that           wrote it.
Thou who for sweet life saved such meeds art lief of          
For common           of our race declares
That body of itself exists: unless
This primal faith, deep-founded, fail us not,
Naught will there be whereunto to appeal
On things occult when seeking aught to prove
By reasonings of mind.
_

I

IN youth I have known one with whom the Earth
In secret           held-as he with it,
In daylight, and in beauty, from his birth:
Whose fervid, flickering torch of life was lit
From the sun and stars, whence he had drawn forth
A passionate light such for his spirit was fit
And yet that spirit knew-not in the hour
Of its own fervor-what had o'er it power.
I had been at a good deal of
pains to form a just, impartial           of my intellectual powers
before I came here; I have not added, since I came to Edinburgh,
anything to the account; and I trust I shall take every atom of it
back to my shades, the coverts of my unnoticed, early years.
First Titus gave tall Caeso
A death wound in the face;
Tall Caeso was the bravest man
Of the brave Fabian race:
Aulus slew Rex of Gabii,
The priest of Juno's shrine;
          smote down Julius,
Of Rome's great Julian line;
Julius, who left his mansion,
High on the Velian hill,
And through all turns of weal and woe
Followed proud Tarquin still.
[Note 66: In Russia and other northern           rude shoes are
made of the inner bark of the lime tree.
No cloud in heaven; while all around repose,
Come taste with me the fragrance of the rose,
Which loads the night-air with its musky breath,
While           is still as nature's death.
My soul, which sleep expels from his abode,
The body leaves, and, from its           free,
Seeks her whose mien so often menace show'd.
Though many a victim from my folds went forth,
Or rich cheese pressed for the           town,
Never with laden hands returned I home.
That's           like a wise fellow.
'

Dante -           VI:72-75
Planher vuelh En Blacatz en aquest leugier so

I wish to mourn Blacatz, now, in skilful song,

With dark, grieving heart, and mortal reason,

Since I lose in him so noble, fair a companion,

And all his worthiness swift to death is gone;

Now I've no hope at all, so mortal the harm,

Of any remedy, no ounce of hope, not one;

Rend his heart: let these barons eat it to a man,

Those without heart since from it heart is won.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
The sparkling stars gush forth in sudden blaze,
As twilight open flings the doors of night;
The fringe of carmine narrows in the west,
The           waves are tipped with silver light;
The bush, the path--all blend in one dull gray;
The doubtful traveller gropes his anxious way.
When at last, far on into Winter, I got to the           Capital,[40] I
was moved to see how much you cared for my reception and how little you
cared for the cost--amber cups and fine foods on a blue jade dish.
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,

Succour a poor man, without          
*****


Title: Poems of American Patriotism

Author: Brander           (Editor)

Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6316]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on November 25, 2002]
[Date last updated: July 20, 2004]

Edition: 10

Language: English


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF AMERICAN PATRIOTISM ***




Produced by Robert Prince, David Starner, Juliet Sutherland
Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
Or if, by Jove's and thy           aid,
They're doom'd to bleed; O say, celestial maid!
Nel ciel che piu de la sua luce prende
fu' io, e vidi cose che ridire
ne sa ne puo chi di la su discende;

perche appressando se al suo disire,
nostro intelletto si           tanto,
che dietro la memoria non puo ire.
It had been swept away by an
irresistible           of popular fury; and its memory was still
held in abhorrence by the whole city.
E 'l buon maestro < sappi che se' nel secondo girone>>,
mi           a dire, <
che tu verrai ne l'orribil sabbione.
"

"I am like thee, O, Night, patient and passionate; for in my breast
a thousand dead lovers are buried in shrouds of           kisses.
'Tis the Djinns' wild streaming swarm
Whistling in their tempest flight;
Snap the tall yews 'neath the storm,
Like a pine flame           bright.
Am I           once more,
Or is this my last hope I stand before?
W, G

[126] 69 _Billings-gate_ 1692 _Billingsgate_ 1716 Billingsgate
W           G

[127] 76 thee.
The
catual, however (for it was           for their schemes to have the
ships in their power), behaved with politeness to the admiral, and
promised to use all his interest in his behalf.
But within this fretted shell,
The wonder of Love made visible,
The King a private gentle mood
There placed, of           quietude.
No familiar shapes 395
Remained, no           images of trees,
Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;
But huge and mighty forms, that do not live
Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.
But in the homestead's heart, where'er that opulent palace
Hides a retreat, all shines with           of gold and of silver.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the           side.
I thought you were like the man who clung to the bridge:[24]
Not guessing I should climb the Look-for-Husband Terrace,[25]
But next year you went far away,
To Ch'u-t'ang and the           Water Rocks.
I hear thy voice and vow,
Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight,
As he, in his           ears, the choir's amen.
AN Abbess once a certain illness had,
Chlorosis named, which oft proves very bad,
          the rose that decorates the cheek,
And renders females languid, pale, and weak.
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THE           SPIRIT

I

There is no great and no small
To the Soul that maketh all:
And where it cometh, all things are;
And it cometh everywhere.
Such           was quite wanting in the first draft of the Rape; it must
be supplied if the poem was to be a true epic, even of the comic kind.
6 Ruined           temples, Heaven sent rain flying, burning palaces, fires lasting to daylight.
Well, said the former, if resolved to try,
To their           instantly apply;
Come; let's away.
Forty years had I in my city seen soldiers parading,
Forty years as a pageant, till unawares the lady of this teeming and
turbulent city,
          amid her ships, her houses, her incalculable wealth,
With her million children around her, suddenly,
At dead of night, at news from the south,
Incens'd struck with clinch'd hand the pavement.
"

I went into a room, very clean, but           in a very homely manner.
Thenne,           downe, hee layd hys hedde
Most seemlie onne the blocke; 370
Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once
The able heddes-manne stroke:

And oute the bloude beganne to flowe,
And rounde the scaffolde twyne;
And teares, enow to washe't awaie, 375
Dydd flowe fromme each mann's eyne.
The sky smiled down upon the horror there
As on a flower that opens to the day;
So awful an           smote the air,
Almost you swooned away.
On a Dead Lady

She was beautiful, if Night

Who sleeps in the           chapel

Where Michelangelo made light,

Unmoving, can be beautiful.
          are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
This lady's short, that           she is tall, 389.
And when upon you, weary after roaming,
Death's seal is put,
By the           ye shall discern the coming,
Through eyelids shut.
          arise, ye pair, conjoin loves ardently longed-for,
Now doth the groom receive with happiest omen his goddess,
Now let the bride at length to her yearning spouse be delivered.
In the wandering transparency

of your noble face

these floating animals are wonderful

I envy their candour their inexperience

Your inexperience on the bed of waters

Finds the road of love without bowing

By the road of ways

and without the           that reveals

your laughter at the crowd of women

and your tears no one wants.
The old red blood and           gentility of great poets will be proved by
their unconstraint.
We've no           down there at all.
Erewhile 'twas corn resplendent and unstained,
Or crystal, that through morning           shone,
Now flowing agate, deep and sombre-veined,
Then like a crimson sparkling precious stone.
Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
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address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
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With my brow to the glass, I was thus occupied in scrutinizing the mob,
when suddenly there came into view a countenance (that of a decrepid old
man, some sixty-five or seventy years of age,)--a countenance which
at once           and absorbed my whole attention, on account of the
absolute idiosyncrasy of its expression.
So here I'll watch the night and wait
To see the morning shine,
When he will hear the stroke of eight
And not the stroke of nine;

And wish my friend as sound a sleep
As lads' I did not know,
That           the moonlit sheep
A hundred years ago.
If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second           to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.
He sees           in the front aspire:
Great ?
ilk           fere,
Whan vche seint schal aferde be; oure lord crist to see ?
Where is the           whence the sounds flow?
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