No More Learning

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Dieu! Qu'illafait . . V . - *
75 . 75
The Picture
Of Jacopo Del Sellaio /
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The Return
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Effects of Music upon a Company of People I. DeuxMouvements . . *
II. From a Thing by Schumann . <
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Phanopoeia, I. , II. , and III. . f:p| '. , '. . . , 80
The Alchemist, unpublished 1912
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Cantus Planus .
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78 . : '. '. 79
? TRANSLATIONS
FROM THE SONNETS OF GUIDO CAVALCANTI :
Voi, che per gli occhi miei passaste al core '
PAGE . 87
lo vidi gli occhi dove Amor si mise . - O Donna mia, non vedestu colui .
,
.
. .
88
.
Gli miei folli occhi, che'n prima guardaro .
. . 89
Tu m'hai si piena di dolor la mente
. .
Chi e questa che vien, ch'ogni uom la mira Perche non furo a me gli occhi miei spenti . Avete in voi li fieri, e la verdura ,
Certo mie rime a te mandar vogliendo Morte gentil, rimedio de' cattivi
.
.
.
.
.
lo vidi donne con la donna mia
Se m'hai del tutto obliato mercede .
Veggio negli occhi de la donna mia. . . .
Una figura de la donna mia .
,.
97 97
O cieco mondo, di lusinghe pieno . (Called a Madrigale)
Poiche di doglia cor convien ch'io porto (Fragment of a Canzone, miscalled a Ballata)
. 98
. 99 100
FROM THE BALLATE OF GUIDO CAVALCANTI :
La forte, e nova mia disavventura
Era in pensier d'Amor quand' io trovai
Perch' io non spero di tornar gia mai
Quando di morte mi convien trar vita
Sol per pieta ti prego giovinezza . . . . 108 Io priego voi che di dolor parlate
FIVE CANZONI OF ARNAUT DANIEL
:
l
109
. no . . 114
. 116 . . 119
L'AuraAmara . . . . .
Autet e bas entrels prims fuoills .
Glamour and Indigo (Dotttz brats e critz] . . Lancan 'son passat li giure . . .
Ans quel cim reston de branchas
. . . .
121
1"
of Arnaut in Instigations.
Sols sui que sai," from this series, appears in Quia Pauper Amavi\ further study
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95 . 96
. . .
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. 90 . 91 . 92 . 93
< . . ! . " v
94
. . .
101
101 . . . 103
. . . 105
. . .
106
. . . .
?
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF T. E. HULME :
Jf
PAGE 123 . 123
NOTES :
Autumn
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. . . .
Mana Aboda ~ -' . . . ! -
.
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AbovetheDock %:
12^ 124 I24
I25
. 127
. 128 . . . . 128
The Embankment Conversion
. . . . .
. . ,m ,. . . . . ,. . .
(Abbreviated from the Conversation of Mr T. E. H. )
1. Note to "La Fraisne"
2. Personae and Portraits Bibliography . . .
10
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? PERSONAE
GRACE BEFORE SONG
LORD GOD of heaven that with mercy dight
Th' alternate prayer-wheel of the night and light Eternal hast to thee, and in whose sight
Our days as rain drops in the sea surge fall,
As bright white drops upon a leaden sea Grant so my songs to this grey folk may be :
As drops that dream and gleam and falling catch the
sun.
Evanescent mirrors every opal one
Of such his splendour as their compass is,
Be bold, My Songs, to seek such death as this.
ii
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
? LA FRAISNE' SCENE : The Ash Wood of Mahern
FOR I was a gaunt, grave councillor
Being in all things wise, and very old,
But I have put aside this folly and the cold
That old age weareth for a cloak.
I was quite strong at least they said so
The young men at the sword-play ;
But I have put aside this folly, being gay In another fashion that more suiteth me.
I have curled 'mid the boles of the ash wood, I have hidden my face where the oak
Spread his leaves over me, and the yoke
Of the old ways of men have I cast aside.
By the still pool of Mar-nan-otha
Have I found me a bride
That was a dog-wood tree some syne. She hath called me from mine old ways She hath hushed my rancour of council,
Bidding me praise
Naught but the wind that flutters in the leaves.
She hath drawn me from mine old ways,
Till men say that I am mad ;
But I have seen the sorrow of men, and am glad,
For I know that the wailing and bitterness are a folly. And I ? I have put aside all folly and all grief.
I wrapped my tears in an ellum leaf
1
note at end of volume. 12
Prefatory
? And left them under a stone
And now men call me mad because I have thrown
All folly from me, putting it aside
To leave the old barren ways of men,
Because my bride
Is a pool of the wood, and
Though all men say that I am mad
It is only that I am glad,
Very glad, for my bride hath toward me a great love That is sweeter than the love of women
That plague and burn and drive one away.
Once when I was among the young men . . >:'
And they said I was quite strong, among the young men, Once there was a woman . . .
. . . butIforget. . . shewas. . . . . . I hope she will not come again.
. . . I do not remember . . ;V
I think she hurt meonce, but . . .
That was very long ago.
I do not like to remember things any more.
I like one little band of winds that blow In the ash trees here :
For we are quite alone
Here 'mid the ash trees.
'Tis true that I am gay
Aie-e !
Quite gay, for I have her alone here And no man troubleth us.
? BAH !
CINO
Italian Campagna 1309, the open road
I have sung women in three cities,
But it is all the same ;
And I will sing of the sun.
Lips, words, and you snare them,
Dreams, words, and they are as jewels,
Strange spells of old deity,
Ravens, nights, allurement : And they are not ;
Having become the souls of song.
Eyes, dreams, lips, and the night goes. Being upon the road once more,
They are not.
Forgetful in their towers of our tuneing
Once for Wind-runeing They dream us-toward and
" Would
Passionate Cino, of the wrinkling eyes,
Gay Cino, of quick laughter, Cino, of the dare, the jibe,
Frail Cino, strongest of his tribe
That tramp old ways beneath the sun-light,
Would Cino of the Luth were here " !
Once, twice, a year
Vaguely thus word they :
"""
Cino ? Oh, eh, Cino Polnesi
The singer is't you mean ? "
" Ah yes, passed once our way, A saucy fellow, but . . .
N
Sighing, say,
Cino,
? (Oh they are all one these vagabonds), Peste ! 'tis his own songs ?
Or some other's that he sings ?
But you, My Lord, how with your city ? "
But you " My Lord," God's pity !
And all I knew were out, My Lord, you
Were Lack-land Cino, e'en as I am, Sinistro.
1 have sung women in three cities. But it is all one.
I will sing of the sun.
. . . eh? . . . theymostlyhadgreyeyes, But it is all one, I will sing of the sun.
" 'Polio Phoibee, old tin pan, you
Glory to Zeus' aegis-day,
Shield o' steel-blue, th' heaven o'er us
Hath for boss thy lustre gay !
'Polio Phoibee, to our way-fare Make thy laugh our wander-lied ;
Bid thy 'fulgence bear away care. Cloud and rain-tears pass they fleet !
Seeking o'er the new-laid rast-way Tothegardensofthesun . . .
I have sung women in three cities But it is all one.
I will sing of the white birds
In the blue waters of heaven,
The clouds that are spray to its sea.
15
? her " amoros " to esgart
of Aelis her free- speech
NA AUDIART
Que be-m vols mal
NOTE : Anyone who has read anything of the troubadours knows well the tale of Bertran of Born and My Lady Maent of Montaignac, and knows also the song he made when she would none of him, the song
wherein he, seeking to find or make her equal, begs of each preeminent lady of Langue d'Oc some trait or some fair semblance : thus of Cembelins
her love-lit
running, of the Vicomptess of Chales her throat and her two hands, at
Roacoart of Anhes her hair golden as Iseult's ; and even in this fashion of 1'
Lady Audiart "although she would that ill come unto him he sought and praised the lineaments of the torse. And all this to make " Una dompna soiseubuda " a borrowed lady or as the Italians translated it " Una donna ideale. "
THOUGH thou well dost wish me ill
Audiart, Audiart,
Where thy bodice laces start
As ivy fingers clutching through Its crevices,
Audiart, Audiart,
Stately, tall and lovely tender Who shall render
Audiart, Audiart Praises meet unto thy fashion ?
Here a word kiss !
Pass I on Unto Lady " Miels-de-Ben,"
Having praised thy girdle's scope How the stays ply back from it ;
I breathe no hope
That thou shouldst . . .
Nay no whit
Bespeak thyself for anything.
Just a word in thy praise, girl, 16
wit,
glance,
? Just for the swirl
Thy satins made upon the stair, 'Cause never a flaw was there Where thy torse and limbs are met Though thou hate me, read it set
1
In rose and
Or when the minstrel, tale half told, Shall burst to lilting at the phrase
" Audiart, Audiart "
Bertrans, master of his lays, Bertrans of Aultaforte thy praise
Sets forth, and though thou hate me well, Yea though thou wish me ill
Audiart, Audiart. Thy loveliness is here writ till,
gold.
till thou come 2 again.
That hath no perfect limning, when the warm Youth dew is cold
Upon thy hands, and thy old soul
Scorning a new, wry'd casement, Churlish at seemed misplacement, Finds the earth as bitter
As now seems it sweet,
Oh,
And being bent and wrinkled, in a form
Being so young and fair As then only in dreams,
Being then young and wry'd, Broken of ancient pride,
Thou shalt then soften, Knowing, I know not how,
B
1 I. e. in illumed
manuscript. 17
2 Reincarnate.
Audiart,
.
? Thou wert once she
For whose fairness one forgave Audiart Que be-m vols mal.
18
Audiart, Audiart Audiart,
? VILLONAUD FOR THIS YULE
TOWARDS the Noel that morte saison
(Christ make the shepherds'* homage dear ! ) Then when the grey wolves everychone
Drink of the winds their chill small-beer
And lap o' the snows food's gueredon
Then makyth my heart his yule-tide cheer (Skoal ! with the dregs if the clear be gone ! )
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year. Ask ye what ghosts I dream upon ?
(What of the magians* scented gear ? }
The ghosts of dead loves everyone
That make the stark winds reek with fear Lest love return with the foison sun
And slay the memories that me cheer
(Such as I drink to mine fashion)
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.
Where are the joys my heart had won?
and Mars to Zeus drawn near Where are the lips mine lay upon,
Aye ! where are the glances feat and clear That bade my heart his valour don ?
I skoal to the eyes as grey-blown mere (Who knows whose was that paragon ? )
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.
Prince : ask me not what I have done Nor what God hath that can me cheer But ye ask first where the winds are gone
Wineing the ghosts of yester-year.
1
l (Saturn /)
Signum Nativitatis. 19
? A VILLONAUD : BALLAD OF THE GIBBET
OR THE SONG OF THE SIXTH COMPANION SCENE : " En ce bourdel ou tenons nostre estat"
It being remembered that there were six of us with Master Villon, when that expecting presently to be hanged he writ a ballad whereof ye know :
" Freres humains qui apres nous <vi<vez. "
DRINK ye a skoal for the gallows tree !
Fraiu^ois and Margot and thee and me,
Drink we the comrades merrily
That said " Till then " for the tree us, gallows !
Fat Pierre with the hook gauche-main,
Thomas Larron " Ear-the-less," Tybalde and that armouress
Who gave this poignard its premier stain Pinning the Guise that had been fain
To make him a mate of the " Haulte Noblesse " And bade her be out with ill address
As a fool that mocketh his drue's disdeign.
Drink we a skoal for the gallows tree !
Francois and Margot and thee and me, Drink we to Marienne Ydole,
That hell brenn not her o'er cruelly.
Drink we the lusty robbers twain,
Black is the pitch o' their wedding dress, Lips shrunk back for the wind's caress
As lips shrink back when we feel the strain
1 Certain gibbeted corpses used to be coated with tar as a preservative ; thus one scarecrow served as warning for considerable time. See Hugo, UHomme qui Rit.
20
l
? Of love that loveth in hell's disdeign,
And sense the teeth through the lips that press 'Gainst our lips for the soul's distress
That striveth to ours across the pain.
Drink we skoal to the gallows tree !
Fra^ois and Margot and thee and me, For Jehan and Raoul de Vallerie
Whose frames have the night and its winds in fee.
Maturin, Guillaume, Jacques d'Allmain, Culdou lacking a coat to bless
One lean moiety of his nakedness
That plundered St Hubert back o' the fane : Aie ! the lean bare tree is widowed again For Michault le Borgne that would confess
In " faith and troth " to a traitoress,
"" Which of his brothers had he slain ?
But drink we skoal to the gallows tree ! Fran9ois and Margot and thee and me :
These that we loved shall God love less And smite alway at their faibleness ?
Skoal ! ! to the gallowsj and then pray we : God damn his hell out speedily
And bring their souls to his " Haulte Citee. "
21
? MESMERISM
" And a cafs in the tuater-butt" ROBERT BROWNING
AYE you're a man that ! ye old mesmerizer
Tyin' your meanin' in seventy swadelin's, One must of needs be a hang'd early riser
Tocatchyouatwormturning. HolyOdd'sbodykins!
" Cat's i' the water butt " in verse- ! Thought's your
barrel,
Tell us this thing rather, then we'll believe you,
You, Master Bob Browning, spite your apparel Jump to your sense and give praise as we'd lief do.