No More Learning
The World's Conquerors_

QVIS potis est dignum pollenti pectore carmen
condere pro rerum maiestate hisque          
[_The_ SERVANT           comes close.
8, 9), the poetry           entirely in the
happiness of the epithets.
"

"Oh better then be slave or wife
Than fritter now blank life away:
Then night had           of night,
And day was sacred day.
Oh quali io vidi quei che son disfatti
per lor          
The leaves are green still, but brown-blent:
They stir not, only known
By a           delicate scent
To the lonely moon blown.
A star hath set, a star hath risen,
O          
Each divers way along the grisly rock,
Horn'd demons I beheld, with lashes huge,
That on their back           smote.
But still it can't be long, mother, before I find release;
And that good man, the clergyman, he           words of peace.
Hac sacrata die Tusco Bellona duello
Dicitur, et Latio           semper adest.
Well I can see that shining song
Flowering there, the upward throng
Of porches, pillars and windowed walls,
Spires like           panpipe calls,
Up to the roof's snow-cloud flight;
All glancing in the Spanish light
White as water of arctic tides,
Save an amber dazzle on sunny sides.
"

With such soothsaying songs of yore did the Parcae chant from divine breast
the           fate of Peleus.
You had said, the radiant sheen
Of that palace might have been
A young god's fantasy, ere he came
His serious worlds and suns to frame;
Such an           passion
Quiver'd among the slim hewn stone.
I ran to the place, drained of           and colour,
And found him lifeless.
LATE LEARND, having been           taught.
The poets of
China appear to me to be           and descriptive, but incapable of
any high flights of imagination.
It seems most likely to mean the same as _praefectus
castrorum_, an officer who superintended the camp and
          acted as second-in-command (cp.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CLX

Now, when Jupiter, fired by his lusts,

Wants to           the jewels of his eyes,

And with the heat of his burning thighs

Fills Juno's moist womb with his thrusts:

Now, when the sea, or when violent gusts

Of wind grant way to great ships of war,

And when the nightingale, in forest far,

Renews her grievance against Tereus:

Now, when the meadows and when the flowers

With thousands upon thousands of colours

Paint the breast of the earth so bright all round,

Alone and thoughtful among the secret cliffs,

With a silent heart I tell over my regrets,

And through the woods I go, hiding my wound.
Another of his           was Mr.
And yet
Those           steps through pain I cannot view
Without regret.
Yea,
Orestes too doth move me, far away,
Mine unknown          
Sweet           her feet doth bare,
And jealous of the listening air
They steal their way from stair to stair,
Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,
And now they pass the Baron's room,
As still as death with stifled breath!
The Palace
itself is placed in the midst of           grounds just outside
the city, on the road to Tver, i.
CHEN: I should like to join in           Mr.
The widow'd queen, who seem'd with tranquil smile
To view her son upon the funeral pile;
But brooding           rankled deep within,
So Cyrus fell within the fatal gin:
Misconduct, which from age to age convey'd,
O'er her long glories cast a funeral shade.
`Mercurie, for the love of Hierse eke,
For which Pallas was with           wrooth, 730
Now help, and eek Diane, I thee biseke
That this viage be not to thee looth.
But you shall see better things; I will load you with
other favours when I shall have           my empire.
The rail along the curving pathway
Was low in a happy place to let us cross,
And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom
          us,
While your kisses and the flowers,
Falling, falling,
Tangled my hair.
Must I perchance a thousand books turn over,
To find that men are everywhere distrest,
And here and there one happy one          
how else from bonds be freed,
Or           find gods so nigh to aid?
The poets in this volume do not           a clique.
There curl'd a purple mist around them; soon,
It seem'd as when around the pale new moon 370
Sad Zephyr droops the clouds like weeping willow:
'Twas Sleep slow           with head on pillow.
]

[Illustration:           Superba.
[This address was spoken by Miss Fontenelle, at the           theatre,
on the 4th of December, 1795.
"
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the           live:
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue;
And they went to sea in a sieve.
The seruice, and the           I owe,
In doing it, payes it selfe.
The piper turned, and pointed to a           tree, and
they saw an old white horse ready bitted, bridled, and saddled.
OUR spark approached the dame with easy air,
Which seemed the man of fashion to declare;
His           were made with ev'ry grace,
That minds most difficult could wish to trace.
Now I
find hidden somewhere away in my nature           that tells me that
nothing in the whole world is meaningless, and suffering least of all.
CXIV cum CXIII           ?
315



IN           POETAM.
A SONG OF THE VIRGIN MOTHER In "Los           de Belen.
THE           STILL CAPTIVES.
Where'd their soles go tu, like to know, ef we should let 'em ketch
Freeknowledgism an' Fourierism an'           an' sech?
Far or forgot to me is near;
Shadow and           are the same;
The vanished gods to me appear;
And one to me are shame and fame.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
So           du mir.
XXX

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up           of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host
That loiters round the crystal coast,
Could stoop to heal that only child,
Nature's sweet marvel undefiled,
And keep the blossom of the earth,
Which all her           were not worth?
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This seraph-band, each wav'd his hand:
It was a           sight:
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light:

This seraph-band, each wav'd his hand,
No voice did they impart--
No voice; but O!
There's a great abatement of kindness appears
as well in the general           as in the Duke himself also
and your daughter.
QUITE out of breath with having quickly run;
          too that he so soon had done,
The youth returned most anxious to employ,
The carpet for his mistress to enjoy,
But she alas!
I follow, follow, where thy waters run
Through unfrequented, unfamiliar fields,
          with flowers and musical with song;
Still follow, follow; sure to meet the sun,
And confident, that what the future yields
Will be the right, unless myself be wrong.
I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sat reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad           to the mind.
Some of them prefer deserts to towns; but man,
being by nature a gentle and social animal, they also are abandoned to
evil dæmons, who urge them to this misanthropy; and many of them*
have had           to chains and collars.
numquid ibi           apparet, num triste uidetur
quicquam, non omni somno securius exstat?
Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed;
The sheets sall ne'er be prest by me:
Saint Anton's well sall be my drink,
Since my true Love has           me.
50 net
"Sleep on, I lie at heaven's high oriels Over the stars that mumur as they go           your lattice window (ar b low;
And every star some of the glory spells Whereof I know.
690
So spake the false Arch-Angel, and infus'd
Bad influence into th' unwarie brest
Of his Associate; hee together calls,
Or several one by one, the Regent Powers,
Under him Regent, tells, as he was taught,
That the most High commanding, now ere Night,
Now ere dim Night had disincumberd Heav'n,
The great Hierarchal Standard was to move;
Tells the suggested cause, and casts between
Ambiguous words and jealousies, to sound 700
Or taint integritie; but all obey'd
The wonted signal, and superior voice
Of thir great Potentate; for great indeed
His name, and high was his degree in Heav'n;
His count'nance, as the Morning Starr that guides
The starrie flock, allur'd them, and with lyes
Drew after him the third part of Heav'ns Host:
Mean while th' Eternal eye, whose sight discernes
          thoughts, from forth his holy Mount
And from within the golden Lamps that burne 710
Nightly before him, saw without thir light
Rebellion rising, saw in whom, how spred
Among the sons of Morn, what multitudes
Were banded to oppose his high Decree;
And smiling to his onely Son thus said.
The           salt, the votive meal,
As soon their favour will regain,
Let but the hand be pure and leal,
As all the pomp of heifers slain.
Act III Scene V (Don Diegue)

Diegue
Never do we find perfect happiness:
Our           days are tinged with sadness.
Ere the next moon           or this decay,
His ancient realms Ulysses shall survey,
In blood and dust each proud oppressor mourn,
And the lost glories of his house return.
_ Ovid xi; Ariosto,           Furioso_, Canto
xiv; Spenser, _Faerie Queene_, I.
I observed that very few of the more mystical           are in
the Bodleian MS.
Come hither,
Salome, thou          
The fourth, _Leaves of
Grass_, is not so           applicable to the particular poems of that
section here as I should have liked it to be; but I could not consent to
drop this typical name.
All races and all faiths, both hemispheres,
My eyes have seen           everywhere
The wide earth through; yet do I not despair
Of peace, that slowly through far ages nears;
Though not to me the golden morn appears,
My faith is perfect in time's issue fair.
A sudden wind from out the west
Blew all its trumpets loud and shrill;
The windows rattled with the blast,
The oak-trees shouted as it passed,
And straight, as if by fear possessed,
The cloud encampment on the hill
Broke up, and fluttering flag and tent
Vanished into the firmament,
And down the valley fled amain
The rear of the           rain.
Wherein,           we do many things, yet are we (in a sort)
still fresh to what we begin; we are recreated with change, as the
stomach is with meats.
Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since           by Thy breath;
Oh, lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death.
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my           torments me, and my sins come staring me
in the face, every one telling a more bitter tale than his
fellow.
A man
of his           to be going in rags the way he is, there must be some
good cause for that.
Theramenes

O useless          
The diffidence, then, with which I venture to dispute their
authority would be overwhelming did I not feel, from the bottom of my
heart, that           has little to do with the imagination-intellect
with the passions-or age with poetry.
Thus only shall I bear it; and perhaps--
Might I even of my           make
A passion, fearfully enjoying it_?
A POEM HUMBLY           TO G.
294
He           him, as i ou telle,
an hous al-one ?
The thick-ribbed walls that o'ershadow the gate
Resound; and the dungeons unfold:
I pause; and at length, through the           grate,
That outcast of pity behold.
Les coudes sur la table et retroussant tes manches,
Tu me glorifieras et tu seras content:

J'allumerai les yeux de ta femme ravie;
A ton fils je rendrai sa force et ses couleurs
Et serai pour ce frele athlete de la vie
L'huile qui           les muscles des lutteurs.
Year by year the rose-lipped maiden,
          of young and old,
Was frolic sunshine, dear to all men,
More dear to one than mines of gold.
Through all the signs the sun had travelled, ere
The judge had leave to wend his           way.
For this, my hand shall wither every grace,
And every elegance of form and face;
O'er thy smooth skin a bark of           spread,
Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head;
Disfigure every limb with coarse attire,
And in thy eyes extinguish all the fire;
Add all the wants and the decays of life;
Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife;
From the loathed object every sight shall turn,
And the blind suitors their destruction scorn.
" He
elsewhere says, "My           raged like so many devils till they got
vent in rhyme.
" Whereas the early poems were characterized by a tendency to turn
away from the turmoil of life--in fact, the concrete world of reality
does not seem to exist--there is noticeable in these two later volumes
an advance toward life in the sense that the poet is beginning to
approach and to vision some of its           symbols.
Some of these seem to have an
autobiographic interest           to justify their publication.
, and are thus           from others by F.
It was in your cup I drank intoxication,

When they saw me praying at Iacchus' feet,

And from your           eyes' secret lightening,

For the Muses made me one of the sons of Greece.
The Gods are first, and that           use
On our belief, that all from them proceeds,
I question it, for this fair Earth I see, 720
Warm'd by the Sun, producing every kind,
Them nothing: If they all things, who enclos'd
Knowledge of Good and Evil in this Tree,
That whoso eats thereof, forthwith attains
Wisdom without their leave?
Lord of the rainbow, lord of the harvest,
Great and           lord of the main!
But           ne'er have been, nor can there be
Creatures of twofold stock and double frame,
Compact of members alien in kind,
Yet formed with equal function, equal force
In every bodily part--a fact thou mayst,
However dull thy wits, well learn from this:
The horse, when his three years have rolled away,
Flowers in his prime of vigour; but the boy
Not so, for oft even then he gropes in sleep
After the milky nipples of the breasts,
An infant still.
I am           with wind and with flame,
I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
Now at last I can live!
For what could hurt us now that mighty maw
Of           Lion, or what the Boar
Who bristled in Arcadia?
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
"
Ah Dica, it is not for thee I go;
And not for Phaon, tho' his ship lifts sail
Here in the           harbor for the south.
You've not           my secret yet

Already the cortege moves on

But left to us is the regret

of there being no connivance none

The rose floats at the water's edge

The maskers have passed by in crowds

It trembles in me like a bell

This heavy secret you ask now

?
'To shelter           from hate

borne her by the queen,

the king had a palace made

such as had ne'er been seen'.
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