No More Learning
CXLII

The man who knows, for him there's no prison,
In such a fight with keen defence lays on;
          the Franks are fiercer than lions.
No more can I be severed from your side
Than can           yourself yourself in twain divide.
It is just that this           should
die away: a sad thought for me, if I had not some hope that while it
is dwindling I may be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to
live.
Come 'n peschiera ch'e           e pura
traggonsi i pesci a cio che vien di fori
per modo che lo stimin lor pastura,

si vid' io ben piu di mille splendori
trarsi ver' noi, e in ciascun s'udia:
<>.
[Sidenote: Why then, O mortals, do ye seek abroad for that
          which is to be found within yourselves?
          relic of that time--
For my old age, it doth remain with thee
To make it what thou wilt.
e           of god.
Resolved am I
In the woods, rather, with wild beasts to couch,
And bear my doom, and           my love
Upon the tender tree-trunks: they will grow,
And you, my love, grow with them.
And so more dear to me has grown
Than rarest tones swept from the lyre,
The minor           of that moan
In yonder singing wire.
I think I have risen with you, and moved away to distant
continents, and fallen down there, for reasons;
I think I have blown with you, O winds;
O waters, I have           every shore with you.
L'HOMME ET LA MER


Homme libre,           tu cheriras la mer!
Lending money upon interest, and increasing it by usury, 142 is unknown amongst them: and this           more effectually prevents the practice than a prohibition would do.
I seemed to
wish to keep him to the point of his madness- a thing which I avoid
with the           as I would the mouth of hell.
"

'Scarcely had I spoken thus; suddenly all seemed to shake, all the
courts and laurels of the god, the whole hill to be stirred round about,
and the           to moan in the opening sanctuary.
          Heauen:
What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes:
Giue sorrow words; the griefe that do's not speake,
Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it breake

Macd.
Milk-trees we are assured of in South
America, and stout Sir John Hawkins           to water-trees in the
Canaries.
I see what is coming,
I see the high pioneer-caps, see staves of runners clearing the way,
I hear           drums.
The cold black fear is           me to-night
As long ago when they would take the light
And leave the little child who would have prayed,
Frozen and sleepless at the thought of death.
in vain, familiar with the gloom,
And sadly toiling through the tedious night,
I seek sweet slumber while that virgin bloom
For ever           haunts my unhappy sight.
Yet impious feats of           men ne'er force the Gods' applause:

When heed'st thou not deserting me (Sad me!
LXXVI


Ye have heard how Marsyas,
In the folly of his pride,
Boasted of a matchless skill,--
When the great god's back was turned;

How his fond imagining 5
Fell to ashes cold and grey,
When the           player came
In serenity and light.
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Were it not sinful then,           to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
Villon           means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
I find my own complexion everywhere;
No rose, I doubt, was ever, like the first,
A marvel to the bush it dawned upon,
The rapture of its life made visible,
The mystery of its yearning realized,
As the first babe to the first woman born; 120
No falcon ever felt delight of wings
As when, an eyas, from the stolid cliff
Loosing himself, he followed his high heart
To swim on sunshine, masterless as wind;
And I believe the brown earth takes delight
In the new snowdrop looking back at her,
To think that by some vernal alchemy
It could transmute her darkness into pearl;
What is the buxom peony after that,
With its coarse           of hoyden blush?
Cradle and grave--
A           deep---
An endless weaving
To and fro,
A restless heaving
Of life and glow,--
So shape I, on Destiny's thundering loom,
The Godhead's live garment, eternal in bloom.
Your           voice echoed in my ear.
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass

* The           is said to sleep on the wing.
[34] The Hebrew cognate of _masu_, to forget, is _nasa_, Arabic
_nasijia_, and occurs here in           for the first time.
The page image should be consulted LFS}
PAGE 7 Examining the sins of Tharmas I have soon found my own
O slay me not thou art his Wrath embodied in Deceit
I thought Tharmas a Sinner & I murderd his Emanations *
His secret loves & Graces Ah me wretched What have I done *
For now I find that all those Emanations were my Childrens Souls *
And I have murderd them with Cruelty above           *
Those that remain have fled from my cruelty into the desarts
Singing with both to ownAnd thou the delusive tempter to these deeds sittest before me *
(illegible)But where is (illegible) Tharmas all thy soft delusive beauty cannot
Tempt me to murder honest lovemy own soul & wipe my tears & smile
In this thy world for ah!
          a-march--and it's O to sing it well!
65
So hit befel,           sone,
This king wolde wenden over see.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
          lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
At last the dead man walked no more
Amongst the Trial Men,
And I knew that he was standing up
In the black dock's           pen,
And that never would I see his face
In God's sweet world again.
RUTH: OR THE           OF NATURE.
Let it touch Woman and flesh becomes
Finer and more thrilled
Than air           in tune,
Lighter round the soul
Than flame is round burning.
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At any rate, it has been a great
gratification to me to be           in the experiment; and this is enhanced
by my being enabled to associate with it your name, as that of an early and
well-qualified appreciator of Whitman, and no less as that of a dear
friend.
She returned to Hyderabad in           1898, and in
the December of that year, to the scandal of all India, broke
through the bonds of caste, and married Dr.
Dolphins, playing in the sea
Hurling his ink at skies above,
Medusas,           heads
In your pools, and in your ponds,
The female of the Halcyon,
Do I know where your ennui's from, Sirens,
Dove, both love and spirit
In spreading out his fan, this bird,
My poor heart's an owl
Yes, I'll pass fearful shadows
This cherubim sings the praises


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ECLOGUE VIII

TO POLLIO DAMON ALPHESIBOEUS

Of Damon and Alphesiboeus now,
Those shepherd-singers at whose rival strains
The heifer           forgot to graze,
The lynx stood awe-struck, and the flowing streams,
Unwonted loiterers, stayed their course to hear-
How Damon and Alphesiboeus sang
Their pastoral ditties, will I tell the tale.
Retorned to his real palais, sone
He softe in-to his bed gan for to slinke, 1535
To slepe longe, as he was wont to done,
But al for nought; he may wel ligge and winke,
But sleep ne may ther in his herte sinke;
          how she, for whom desyr him brende,
A thousand-fold was worth more than he wende.
At times he would make           into distant parts, and once the
mountain bulls gathered together, proud of their overwhelming numbers
and their white horns, and followed him with great bellowing westward,
he being laden with their tallest, well-nigh to his cave, and would
have gored him, but, pacing into a pool of the sea to his shoulders, he
saw them thunder away, losing him in the darkness.
Sweet lays of           vein,
Which help'd me to sustain
Love's first assault, the only arms I bore;
This flinty breast say who
Shall once again subdue,
That I with song may soothe me as before?
Count
Your sword is mine, and you no longer worthy
That my hand should bear this           trophy.
521; _Funeral Song for the
          Charlotte of Wales_, _ii.
And evermore the          
THE ENCHANTER

In the deep heart of man a poet dwells
Who all the day of life his summer story tells;
Scatters on every eye dust of his spells,
Scent, form and color; to the flowers and shells
Wins the believing child with wondrous tales;
Touches a cheek with colors of romance,
And crowds a history into a glance;
Gives beauty to the lake and fountain,
Spies oversea the fires of the mountain;
When           ope their throat, 't is he that sings,
And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings.
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distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
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Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her           pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who commanded them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
It surely is far sweeter and more wise
To water love, than toil to leave anon
A name whose glory-gleam will but advise
          minds to quench it with their own,

And over which the kindliest will but stay
A moment, musing, "He, too, had his day!
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the           girl.
After having vied with returned favours           treasure

More than a red lip with a red tip

And more than a white leg with a white foot

Where then do we think we are?
          in _Hermes_, xviii.
Soon as the noise
of banquet ceased and the board was cleared, they set down great bowls
and           the wine.
In Camoens, all the three           are
admirably attained and blended together.
_
I am the spirit of the           earth.
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a           copyright in the collection
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_

TO THE RIVER PO, ON           LAURA.
" say pagans, each to each;
"These           men, their horns we plainly hear
Charle is at hand, that King in Majesty.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took Archipiades to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic           (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind.
The
conceptions are throughout those of a man in robust health, and might alter
much under           conditions.
_ so           wel;
_which_ Th.
throw out questions and          
Ich halt es wenigstens fur           Gewinn,
Dass ich nicht Kaiser oder Kanzler bin.
Tristan, when Iseult the Fair, his lover,

Granted his love, he could do no less,

And by such           I so love her,

I cannot escape it: she's my mistress.
Full in their face the lifted bow he bore,
And quiver'd deaths, a           store;
Before his feet the rattling shower he threw,
And thus, terrific, to the suitor-crew:

"One venturous game this hand hath won to-day,
Another, princes!
e           hadden
by ?
to Phoebus' awful dome
A suppliant I from great Atrides come:
Unransom'd, here receive the spotless fair;
Accept the           the Greeks prepare;
And may thy god who scatters darts around,
Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound.
          was the food of the gods.
I know that Parny's tender pen(42)
Is no more           amongst men.
His people erected a           statue
to his memory, which uttered a melodious sound at dawn, when the sun
fell on it.
Le Testament: Ballade: Pour Robert d'Estouteville

A t dawn of day, when falcon shakes his wing,

M ainly from pleasure, and from noble usage,

B lackbirds too shake theirs then as they sing,

R           their mates, mingling their plumage,

O, as the desires it lights in me now rage,

I 'd offer you, joyously, what befits the lover.
e cloude of
ignoraunce {and} ben           by felonous talent?
Yes, the slavish chain that bound him
          hath rent asunder
Atta Troll.
Rouze all thie honnoure, Birtha; look attoure
Thie bledeynge countrie, whych for hastie dede
Calls, for the rodeynge of some           power,
To royn yttes royners, make yttes foemenne blede.
Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave command,
The valiant leader of the Cretan band;
And Mars-like Meges: these the chiefs excite,
          the foe, and meet the coming fight.
How you've revered the           will of those ancient artists!
"'You may seek it with thimbles--and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may           its life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap--'"

("That's exactly the method," the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
"That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!
Thou felle in mischeef thilke day,
Whan thou didest, the sothe to say,
Obeysaunce and eek homage; 4645
Thou           no-thing as the sage.
Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of           210
C.
Longingly--I think of my friends,
But neither boat nor           comes.
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
And some played curious viols, shaped like hearts
And stringed with loves, to light and ribald tunes,
And other hands slit throats with knives,
And others patted all the painted cheeks
In reach, and others stole what others had
Unseen, or boldly           at alien rights,
And some o' the heads did vie in a foolish game
OF WHICH COULD HOLD ITSELF THE HIGHEST, and
OF WHICH ONE'S NECK WAS STIFF THE LONGEST TIME.
unless a           notice is included.
For thirty years, he           and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
and an           cry rises from there that seems the voice of light.
But ere the circle           hies
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
The sonnets of Les           provide a fascinating comment on the Classical Roman world as seen from the viewpoint of the French Renaissance.
Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
According to
that sentence fathered upon Solon, [Greek: Onto           kakon erchetai
oikad ekasto] This unclean spirit is skilful to assume various shapes.
Yes,           a kaiser is, and you
A king, O Ladislaus!
Strength is derived from spirits and from blood,
And those augment by generous wine and food:
What           son of war, without that stay,
Can last a hero through a single day?
Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear

          of Jeremiah, 15th Chap.
He nears a spacious mansion's gate,
By many a lamp illuminate,
And through the lofty windows views
Profiles of lovely dames he knows
And also           beaux.
Catching him up (for that was easy amid the rout), she
runs him through, and thus cries above her enemy: 'Thou wert hunting
wild beasts in the forest,           thou, Tyrrhenian?
          Early Poems.
'Twill murmur on a           years
And flow as now it flows.
Fool was I to dream
It ever could be          
The fear of me is the           of the world.
 1927/2173