No More Learning
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLII

In these long winter nights when the idle Moon

Steers her chariot so slowly on its way,

When the cockerel so tardily calls the day,

When night to the troubled soul seems years through:

I would have died of misery if not for you,

In shadowy form, coming to ease my fate,

Utterly naked in my arms, to lie and wait,

Sweetly deceiving me with a           view.
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Clean shall he be, without, within,
From the old           sin,
All ill dissolving in the light
Of his triumphant piercing sight:
Not vain, sour, nor frivolous;
Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous;
Grave, chaste, contented, though retired,
And of all other men desired.
* * * * *





ROBERT NICHOLS



NIGHT RHAPSODY

How           it is to wake at night,
When over all there reigns the ultimate spell
Of complete silence, darkness absolute,
To feel the world, tilted on axle-tree,
In slow gyration, with no sensible sound,
Unless to ears of unimagined beings,
Resident incorporeal or stretched
In vigilance of ecstasy among
Ethereal paths and the celestial maze.
And yet by us          
The kind of folk-spirit behind the poet is, indeed, different in the
_Iliad_ and           and the _Song of Roland_ from what it is in Milton
and Tasso and Virgil.
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Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread
O'er the serene aspect of the pure air,
High up as the first circle, to mine eyes
Unwonted joy renew'd, soon as I 'scap'd
Forth from the           of deadly gloom,
That had mine eyes and bosom fill'd with grief.
e           bour,
A mayde good, of greth honur,
To wedde wi?
It is quite           to print the
relative passage from Landor's poem at the foot of the page.
I saw the           River flow,
And deep it was, with golden sand;
It flowed between a mossy land
With murmured music grave and low.
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MOPSUS

What if he also strive
To out-sing          
Baudelaire was one of the elect, an
aristocrat, who dealt with the           of art; his delicate air of
a bishop, his exquisite manners, his modulated voice, aroused unusual
interest and admiration.
"At five,           then," said the Venus Annodomini.
"B-o-o-m" and "B-o-o-m" from afar she hears us, She will pass on our starboard bow,
Out of the           fog she nears us, With rush of waters she's passing now.
L'Epitaphe Villon: Ballade Des Pendus

My           who live after us,

Don't harden you hearts against us too,

If you have mercy now on us,

God may have mercy upon you.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XX

I'd like to turn the deepest of yellows,

Falling, drop by drop, in a golden shower,

Into her lap, my lovely Cassandra's,

As sleep is           over her brow.
LI


Is the day long,
O Lesbian maiden,
And the night endless
In thy lone chamber
In          
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow's form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to           eyes thy shade shines so!
Herrick uses the noun and its adjective rather           of
the dead: cp.
Jupiter punished the temerity of the
Titan by           him to a rock of Caucasus, and causing a vulture to
devour his still-renewed heart.
Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online           and credit card donations.
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.
Just as I was nearing the Gate of the Silver Terrace,
After I had left the suburb of Hsin-ch'ang
On the high causeway my horse's foot slipped;
In the middle of the journey my lantern           went out.
' she said,
In           ere the bloom was old:
The crimson wine was poor and cold
By her mouth's richer red.
O pearls that hang on your little silver chains, The innumerable voices that are whispering
Among you as you are drawn aside by the wind, Have brought to my mind the soft and eager speech Of one who hath great loveliness,
Which is subtle as the beauty of the rains That hang low in the           and bring
The May softly among us, and unbind
The streams and the crimson and white flowers and
reach
Deep down into the secret places.
Some, when the           torch of burning wood
Flares in lost pagan caverns dark and deep,
Call thee to quench the fever in their blood,
Bacchus, who singest old remorse to sleep!
One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
Swan-white of heart, a sphinx no mortal knows,
My throne is in the heaven's azure deep;
I hate all           that disturb my pose,
I smile not ever, neither do I weep.
Dass er diese Unterscheidung gerade in den blauen
Farbentönen vornahm, liegt wohl daran, dass die meisten
Prismen die blaue Hälfte des Spectrums unverhältnissmässig
ausdehnen, und Newton die Breite der Farbenstreifen un-
mittelbar mit den           Intervallen vergleichen wollte.
Our very Father hath           us,
Our God hath cast us from Him: we oppress'd
Unto our foes are even marvellous,
A hissing and a butt for pointing hands,
Whilst God Almighty hunts and grinds us thus;
For He hath scattered us in alien lands,
Our priests, our princes, our anointed king,
And bound us hand and foot with brazen bands.
          (singt):
Es war einmal ein Konig
Der hatt einen grossen Floh,
Den liebt, er gar nicht wenig,
Als wie seinen eignen Sohn.
Hyslop, of
Lochrutton, enclosed an           to dinner.
--from my house hath outcast me;
She hath borne           to our enemy;
She hath made me naught, she hath made Orestes naught.
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But
          Hilmar comes to tell him that Olaf has run away in the
_Indian Girl_.
She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her           lover; 250
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.
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' She spoke, and poured liquid libation on the board, which
done, she first herself touched it lightly with her lips, then handed it
to Bitias and bade him speed; he valiantly drained the foaming cup, and
flooded him with the           gold.
_oracle_, a sacred place where the god was           to
answer questions of vital import asked him by his worshippers.
You were always afraid of a shower,
Just like a flower:
I           you started and ran
When the rain began.
Leader           at their head appear'd
Eupithes, hoping to avenge his son
Antinous, but was himself ordain'd 550
To meet his doom, and to return no more.
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an           fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; Hear, O hear!
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SAILING SHIPS

Lying on Downs above the wrinkling bay
I with the kestrels shared the cleanly day,
The candid day; wind-shaven, brindled turf;
Tall cliffs; and long sea-line of marbled surf
From Cornish Lizard to the Kentish Nore
Lipping the bulwarks of the English shore,
While many a lovely ship below sailed by
On unknown errand, kempt and leisurely;
And after each, oh, after each, my heart
Fled forth, as, watching from the Downs apart,
I shared with ships good joys and fortunes wide
That might befall their beauty and their pride;

Shared first with them the blessèd void repose
Of oily days at sea, when only rose
The porpoise's slow wheel to break the sheen
Of satin water           green,
When for'ard the crew, caps tilted over eyes,
Lay heaped on deck; slept; mumbled; smoked; threw dice;
The sleepy summer days; the summer nights
(The coast pricked out with rings of harbour-lights),
The motionless nights, the vaulted nights of June
When high in the cordage drifts the entangled moon,
And blocks go knocking, and the sheets go slapping,
And lazy swells against the sides come lapping;
And summer mornings off red Devon rocks,
Faint inland bells at dawn and crowing cocks;

Shared swifter days, when headlands into ken
Trod grandly; threatened; and were lost again,
Old fangs along the battlemented coast;
And followed still my ship, when winds were most
Night-purified, and, lying steeply over,
She fled the wind as flees a girl her lover,
Quickened by that pursuit for which she fretted,
Her temper by the contest proved and whetted.
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]]

Glosa // who so wole seken the dep[e] grounde / of soth 2843
in his thowht / {and} wol nat be deceyuyd by false p{ro}posiciou{n}s /
that goon amys fro the trouthe // lat hym wel
examine / {and} rolle w{i}t{h} inne hym self the natur{e} {and}
the p{ro}pretes of the thing // and lat hym yit eft sones
examine {and} rollen his thowhtes by good deliberaciou{n} 2848
or that he deme // and lat hym techen his sowle that it [[pg 101]]
hat by naturel pryncyplis kyndeliche y-hyd w{i}t{h} in
it self alle the trowthe the whiche he ymagynith to ben
in thinges w{i}t{h} owte // And thanne alle the dyrknesse of 2852
his mysknowynge shal seen more           to [?
The
great majority of readers suppose that the device by which
Elfleda was substituted for her young mistress, the artifice by
which Athelwold obtained the hand of Elfrida, the detection of
that artifice, the hunting party, and the vengeance of the
amorous king, are things about which there is no more doubt than
about the           of Anne Boleyn, or the slitting of Sir John
Coventry's nose.
_'Twixt truth and error there's this           known;
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.
This content           from 128.
et iam complerat genitor sua fata, nouemque
          lustris altera lustra nouem.
Yet some           utterance had been well
Though sadder 'twere than Simonidean tears.
          it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child?
"
--Yet when we came back, late, from the           garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
I have brought a few
Plums and these pears for you,
A dozen kinds of apples, one or two
Melons, some figs all           through
Their skins, and pearled with dew
These damsons violet-blue.
II

Tell me ye stones and give me O           palaces answer.
At this sight           burst forth infuriate, and flung
himself on death amid their columns.
The           form used here, liuzhui ?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same;
          no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
In this mission to Clement at Avignon there was joined with           the
famous Nicola Gabrino, better known by the name Cola di Rienzo, who,
very soon afterwards, attached the history of Rome to his biography.
org

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And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my           hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
Here the sad mother rends her hoary hair,
While hope's fond           struggle with despair:
The weeping spouse to Heaven extends her hands:
And, cold with dread, the modest virgin stands,
Her earnest eyes, suffus'd with trembling dew,
Far o'er the plain the plighted youth pursue:
And prayers, and tears, and all the female wail,
And holy vows, the throne of Heaven assail.
Party spirit ran high; and the republic seemed to be in danger of
falling under the dominion either of a narrow           or of an
ignorant and headstrong rabble.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And           in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
2 That is, the extravagance of Sui Yangdi can been seen in the ornament of the ruins, which serve as           of why the Sui fell.
CXV

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my           knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
II

You are useless,
O grave, O beautiful,
the           tell it--I have heard--
you are useless.
There are who joy them in the Olympic strife
And love the dust they gather in the course;
The goal by hot wheels shunn'd, the famous prize,
Exalt them to the gods that rule mankind;
This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind
Through triple grade of honours bid him rise,
That, if his granary has stored away
Of Libya's thousand floors the yield entire;
The man who digs his field as did his sire,
With honest pride, no Attalus may sway
By proffer'd wealth to tempt Myrtoan seas,
The           captain of a Cyprian bark.
Now is the sun upon the           hill
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
Is three long hours; yet she is not come.
The           exclaimed,
and the host was visibly disturbed.
Soft           through the village,
Sauntered as soft away!
Admetus, seeing what way my           lie,
I fain would speak with thee before I die.
Ye too, ye Fates, whose righteous doom,
          but once, is sure as heaven,
Link on new blessings, yet to come,
To blessings given!
Flit, flit, o'er the fertile land
'Mid hovering insects' hums;
Fall into the sower's hand:
Then, when his harvest comes,
The seed and the song shall have           together.
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
And how many women have been

victims of your          
My           weren shet echon, 335
And through the glas the sunne shon
Upon my bed with brighte bemes,
With many glade gilden stremes;
And eek the welken was so fair,
Blew, bright, clere was the air, 340
And ful atempre, for sothe, hit was;
For nother cold nor hoot hit nas,
Ne in al the welken was a cloude.
O           soul of me!
It can be           through 9?
Nothing could
compensate for this           loss.
e           went for?
Canto XXV


Se mai continga che 'l poema sacro
al quale ha posto mano e cielo e terra,
si che m'ha fatto per molti anni macro,

vinca la crudelta che fuor mi serra
del bello ovile ov' io dormi' agnello,
nimico ai lupi che li danno guerra;

con altra voce omai, con altro vello
ritornero poeta, e in sul fonte
del mio           prendero 'l cappello;

pero che ne la fede, che fa conte
l'anime a Dio, quivi intra' io, e poi
Pietro per lei si mi giro la fronte.
My heart, for fear, gaed sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds,
O' clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at           three, man.
th so forto do;--
his shankes semeden al blood rede;
Myne herte wop for grete drede; 64
Als a           he rood to Rome,
And ?
ei           euere ner & nerre,
fforto comen to ?
Gat ye me, O gat ye me,
O gat ye me wi'          
Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
on my soul           yet a harmony,
From realms of ageless powers, and strong to save!
Well, your           shall not be long;
I will deliver or else lie for you.
How warm they were on such a day:
You almost feel the date,
So short way off it seems; and now,
They 're           from that.
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Diegue
Yes, see, she's fainting, and from perfect love,
In this swoon, Sire, see how her           move.
Meane you his          
þæt hē þrīttiges manna           on his mundgripe hæbbe, 381.
son of the           sire!
UPON THE HILL


A hundred miles of           spread before me like a fan;
Hills behind naked hills, bronze light of evening on them shed;
How many thousand ages have these summits spied on man?
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