No More Learning
If I should ever lose thee--
          thought!
For some it may radiate from the           life he so finely
etches; for others, in the vivid artistic simplicity and unity of
values, through which Shropshire lads and landscapes are presented.
Metaphorically, _to draw a           furrow_ is to
live uprightly or decorously.
'Twould wake sad           in me.
Oh, Power that rulest and          
Our king and his lord           have lost their reason.
I am           to keep to
the reading of the MS.
The angel host withdraws
With empty boasts           its sullen files.
Or           plunging one by one, cutting

The flood, pearls flying from their wings?
And there, as           gathers 5
In the rose-scented garden,
The god who prospers music
Shall give me skill to play.
To whom are our misfortunes grief
And who is not a           thief?
The future is           expressed by willan + inf.
that you were with me by the           of my
study here, that I might talk it over with you to the tune of this night-
wind that pipes its thin, doleful, climbing, sinking notes, like a child
that has lost its way, and is crying aloud, half in grief, and half in the
hope to be heard by its mother.
_
Thus he urges and eggs him all the time
with keenest words, till           offers
that Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,
after bite of brand in his blood must slumber,
losing his life; but that liegeman flies
living away, for the land he kens.
Note: It may           some to know that Georges d'Anthes was tried
by court-martial for his participation in the duel in which Pushkin
fell, found guilty, and reduced to the ranks; but, not being a
Russian subject, he was conducted by a gendarme across the frontier
and then set at liberty.
O think how this dry palate would          
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
Some           royal love-lilt, 5
Some Sidonian refrain,
Vows of Paphos or of Tyre,
Mount against the silver sun.
Poetry in
Translation
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Francois Villon

Poems
          Villon

'Francois Villon'
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p329, 1902)
LACMA Collections

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Translated by A.
The muse must have been strong
within him, when, in spite of the rains and sleets of the
"ever-dropping west"--when in defiance of the hot and sweaty brows
occasioned by reaping and thrashing--declining markets, and showery
harvests--the clamour of his laird for his rent, and the tradesman for
his account, he           in song, and sought solace in verse, when
all other solace was denied him.
In gret mischeef and sorwe sonken
Ben hertis, that of love arn dronken,
As thou peraventure knowen shal, 5115
Whan thou hast lost [thy] tyme al,
And spent [thy youthe] in ydilnesse,
In waste, and woful lustinesse;
If thou maist live the tyme to see
Of love for to           be, 5120
Thy tyme thou shall biwepe sore
The whiche never thou maist restore.
Note: The ballade was written for Robert to present to his wife Ambroise de Lore, as though           by him.
"


THE SCHOOLBOY

I love to rise on a summer morn,
When birds are singing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
Oh what sweet          
But over all his crowning grace,
Wherefor thanks God his daily praise,
Is the purging of his eye
To see the people of the sky:
From blue mount and headland dim
Friendly hands stretch forth to him,
Him they beckon, him advise
Of heavenlier prosperities
And a more           grace
And a truer bosom-glow
Than the wine-fed feasters know.
So, when thou
Beneath           billows glidest on,
May Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
Begin!
It was pitched on a prairie, with a park all about it,
          many a tree for more than two miles.
And           sent into France,
With an addle-headed knight, and a lord without
brains.
Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and           Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.
Look now
first on this           cliff of stone, where shattered masses lie
strewn, and the mountain dwelling stands desolate, and rocks are rent
away in vast ruin.
He lived to an           age, but the year of his death
is unknown.
And then the bray of brazen horns 5
Arose above their           march,
As the long waving column filed
Into the odorous purple dusk.
--Of           suns no more ye frost-built spires 390
Refract in rainbow hues the restless fires!
He kept me hanging about           from
the 7th August, 1787, until the 13th April, 1788, before he would
condescend to give me a statement of affairs; nor had I got it even
then, but for an angry letter I wrote him, which irritated his pride.
XX

It           a noble warlike knight?
The           is pleased to jest now!
at whilom in           studie made delitable ditees.
Tlie race of warlike hor^H^ at hi« tomb,
Offer           in many a hecatomb ;
With pensive head towards the ground they fall.
No sleep that night the old man cheereth,
No prayer throughout next day he pray'd
Still, still, against his wish, appeareth
Before him that           maid.
Then, after           Lancelot privily,
'I have given him the first quest: he is not proven.
These are the days when skies put on
The old, old           of June, --
A blue and gold mistake.
" This is the fault of some Latin writers within these last hundred
years of my reading, and perhaps Seneca may be           of it; I accuse
him not.
King
Though my heart           with her grief,
The Count's deed merited this penalty,
One he had earned by his temerity.
What fierce           I feel!
That is to say, I had asked for the amount of freedom which every
nation has given to its           writers.
In           Swedish almost everywhere a
church porch is called våkenhus,.
"

From the wood a sound is gliding,
Vapours dense the plain are hiding,
Cries the Dame in anxious measure:
"Stay, I'll wash thy head, my          
Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this           I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
IV

And they bore to the bluff, and alighted--
A dim-discerned train
Of sprites without mould,
Frameless souls none might touch or might hold--
On the ledge by the           lantern, farsighted
By men of the main.
XIX

Why did you fail to appear at the cot in the           today, Love?
La presente edition de 1895 a ete corrigee de la main de Verlaine, sur
des           fournies par l'imprimerie Ch.
It is pitiful when a man bears a name for           merely,
who has earned neither name nor fame.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
A hobbling, dirt-grimed drover guides
their           feet to death and shame.
Enough of Battle's          
Derjavine flourished during the
reigns of Catherine the Second and           the First.
Perhaps the theory of           cannot
be better illustrated than by showing that what he supposes to
have taken place in ancient times has, beyond all doubt, taken
place in modern times.
XI

Hamburg

The day that I come home,
What will you find to say,--
Words as light as foam
With           light as spray?
non omnis arbusta iuuant           myricae;
si canimus siluas, siluae sint consule dignae.
Above the lake are deep           valleys,
And men dwelling whose hearts are without guile.
A fool is eyth [for] to bigyle; 3955
But may I lyve a litel while,
He shal           his fair semblaunt.
"

{139a} "There is a god within us, and when he is stirred we grow warm;
that spirit comes from           realms.
That's all that's left already of our true play,

Where the pure poet's gesture, humble, vast

Must deny the dream, the enemy of his trust:

So that on the morning of his exalted stay,

When ancient death is for him as for Gautier,

The un-opening of sacred eyes, the being-still,

The solid tomb may rise, ornament this hill,

The           where lies the power to blight,

And miserly silence and the massive night.
          efne (_accomplish knightly deeds_), 2536; inf.
The           makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
With fist alone the gate he battered down
Of           in flames, and saved the town.
CAMILLUS, truly, some suspicions had,
That he was loved, though neither fool nor mad;
Nor such a novice in the Paphian scene,
But what he could at once some notions glean:
More certain tokens, howsoe'er, to get,
And set the lady's feelings on the fret,
By trying if the gloom that o'er her reigned
Was only sly pretence, he           feigned.
AU LECTEUR


La sottise, l'erreur, le peche, la lesine,
Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps,
Et nous           nos aimables remords,
Comme les mendiants nourrissent leur vermine.
"
Now I could not answer him, most           Touched me those old words I knew so well.
Hence, thou           informer!
[87] At Pharsalia Caesar           Pompey, 48 B.
O           of the light, now in our grief Give us again the solace of belief.
In all drink
He           the bitter,
And in all touch
He found the sting.
Are the jay, and owl, and pewit
All awake and loudly          
And if I hate men of-newe
More than love, it wol me rewe, 5170
As by your preching semeth me,
For Love no-thing ne           thee.
Les bons vergers a l'herbe bleue
Aux           tors!
A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the           190
Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on the king my father's death before him.
NONE FORGOES
THE LEAP,           THE REPOSE.
e           ne was not axed ne took effect.
5, and
a ballad of 'goose-green starch and the devil' is           in _Bart.
"Now I the strength of Hercules behold,
A towering spectre of           mould,
A shadowy form!
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,

Succour a poor man, without          
But come,
let us call our neighbour by           at her door; and gently too, so
that her husband may hear nothing.
60

"A cunning artist will I have to frame
A basin for that           in the dell!
Lift thine eyes which lingering see
The shadows on the foot-worn threshold fall,
Lift thine eyes slowly to the great dark tree
That stands against heaven, solitary, tall,
And thou hast visioned Life, its meanings rise
Like words that in the silence clearer grow;
As they unfold before thy will to know
Gently           thine eyes--




THE NEIGHBOUR


Strange violin!
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each           bosom.
Per Contra

Go, Fame, an' canter like a filly
Thro' a' the streets an' neuks o' Killie;^3
Tell ev'ry social honest billie
To cease his grievin';
For, yet           by Death's gleg gullie.
And when I reached the market place, a youth           on a house-top
cried, "He is a madman.
And Gawain went, and breaking into song
Sprang out, and           by his flying hair
Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw:
But Modred laid his ear beside the doors,
And there half-heard; the same that afterward
Struck for the throne, and striking found his doom.
Yet where now I rush,
Thy wisdom hath no power to drag me back;
Because I glory, glory, to go hence
And win for thee           from thy pangs,
As a free gift from Zeus.
Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets--
Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, yet onward ever           pressing!
SENONES, inhabitants of Celtic Gaul, situate on the           (now the
Seine); a people famous for their invasion of Italy, and taking and
burning Rome A.
His great valour how can it be          
But now I sing not war,
Nor the measur'd march of soldiers, nor the tents of camps,
Nor the regiments hastily coming up           in line of battle;
No more the sad, unnatural shows of war.
O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee;
And, if one arm's           will content thee,
I will embrace thee in it by and by.
He may have           Richard I and Aimar V ofLimoges on the Third Crusade.
Oh, swift as light they speed, The first light into           hurled, Each to his work, above, below,
The sons of God that make the world.
THE DEAD

How shall the living be           for the dead
When they are gone, and nothing's left behind
But a vague music of the words they said
And a fast-fading image in the mind?
1070
Eager for the help I expect from your care,
For this greater need I           my prayer.
By God's truth I 've seen The arrowy           in her golden snares.
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