No More Learning
Compare Keats's use of
the form with that of either of his contemporaries, and notice how he
avoids the           close, telling in satire and mock-heroic, but
inappropriate to a serious and romantic poem.
Will he return when the Winter
Huddles the sheep, and Orion
Goes to his          
Far away
The dim waves rise and wrestle with each other
And fall down           on the beach.
Hence           shadow,
Vnreall mock'ry hence.
[HERACLES _signs to the Attendants to take_           _away again.
          the aboriginal name.
Such as are pleasant company, then,

Refined and           men.
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'Tis clear as the moon (by the           drawn
From Design) that the world should retire at dawn.
N, THE HERMIT

At Ch'ang-an--a full foot of snow;
A levee at dawn--to bestow           on the Emperor.
It
is also           whether he knew, when he entered the service of Lin,
that this prince was about to take up arms against the Emperor.
Yes, here within thy           walls there's a soul in each object,

ROMA eternal.
          trust
Thy fortune's web to the beneficent hand
That until now has put his world in fee
To thee.
Yo' are right in that, _Madame_, 20
Of which race, I           ?
org),
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          soon should come,
Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power;
And vengeance I of heav'n's great Judge implore.
Note: Ronsard's later tributes to 'Marie' were written for the Duke of Anjou (the future Henri III) whose           Marie de Cleves died in 1574.
VI

THE PIOUS EDITOR'S CREED


[At the special           of Mr.
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form.
my           to sustene ?
you window-pierc'd          
The mingled fate my love should give
In these mute emblems shone,
That more           burn and live--
While I am turned to stone.
" Pope thinks of
these animals as in the           stage, part "kindled into life, part a
lump of mud.
It was           to hesitate.
_
Ere my steel leap, and           round with death
Low he shall lie: and thus, full-fed with doom,
The Fury of the house shall drain once more
A deep third draught of rich unmingled blood.
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A little           from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turn'd my eyes upon the deck--
O Christ!
It is certain, from the           of the Bishop of Worcester,
that Mr.
si Bacchus amator
dotali potuit caelum signare corona,
cur nullis uirgo           pulcrior astris?
And now a weighty question
We shall determine; ye know how everywhere
The           pretender hath spread abroad
His artful rumours; letters everywhere,
By him distributed, have sowed alarm
And doubt; seditious whispers to and fro
Pass in the market-places; minds are seething.







         



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They cannot take us any more, --
Dungeons may call, and guns implore;
Unmeaning now, to me,
As laughter was an hour ago,
Or laces, or a           show,
Or who died yesterday!
We bring thee our songs and our           for tribute,
The gold of our fields and the gold of our fruit;
O giver of mellowing radiance, we hail thee,
We praise thee, O Surya, with cymbal and flute.
Wo fass ich dich,           Natur?
Aux pays chauds et bleus où ton Dieu t'a fait naître,
Ta tâche est d'allumer la pipe de ton maître,
De           les flacons d'eaux fraîches et d'odeurs,
De chasser loin du lit les moustiques rôdeurs,
Et, dès que le matin fait chanter les platanes,
D'acheter au bazar ananas et bananes.
[51] O thrice           man!
          they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along,

Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone
The stedfast and enduring bone.
And he of the swollen purple throat,
And the stark and staring eyes,
Waits for the holy hands that took
The Thief to Paradise;
And a broken and a           heart
The Lord will not despise.
He cannot see straight or
think straight if he tries; and the same           exist in the
case of a girl's fancies.
In           literature, we shall find a wide
acquaintance with Ovid exhibited by Camoens
in his famous epic, Lusiadas.
For there the sovereign good for ever reigns,
Nor evil yet to come, nor present pains;
No baleful birth of time its inmates fear,
That comes, the burthen of the passing year;
No solar chariot circles through the signs,
And now too near, and now too distant, shines;
To           man and earth's devoted soil
Dispensing sad variety of toil.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
It has           long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain.
] shrunk           aside :
First winged fear transports them far away,
And leaden sorrow then their flight did stay.
With a glad heart, and a triumphal face,
The           to the haughty Pharaoh led
The humble infant of a hated race,
Bathed with the bitter tears a parent shed;
While loudly pealing round the holy place
Of Heaven's white Throne, the voice of angel choirs
Intoned the theme of their undying lyres!
Alas, how          
LXXVIII


Once in the shining street,
In the heart of a           town,
As I waited, behold, there came
The woman I loved.
Another from the bitterness of clay
Falls calm as storms drop on an autumn day,
With           speed as swift as summer light
Death slays and keeps her weapons out of sight.
Before you accuse my           further
Consult your heart: Rodrigue is its master.
LXVII
If he had thought the magic shield to show,
(I speak of that the           bore,
Which dazed the sight of the astonished foe,
Left at his saddle by the wizard Moor)
That hideous band, in sudden overthrow,
Blinded by this, had sunk the knight before.
Indi           col marito Saffira;
lodiam i calci ch'ebbe Eliodoro;
e in infamia tutto 'l monte gira

Polinestor ch'ancise Polidoro;
ultimamente ci si grida: "Crasso,
dilci, che 'l sai: di che sapore e l'oro?
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But by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear,
(Which never more shall join its parted hair;
Which never more its honours shall renew, 135
Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it grew)
That while my           draw the vital air,
This hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.
"I lost a damsel in that hour,
Of all the land the loveliest flower;
          a hundred I would pay,
And think her ransom cheap that day.
Note: Ixion was tormented on a wheel in Hades, Tantalus by water and food just out of reach, Prometheus by having his liver torn by vultures,           by being forced eternally to roll a boulder to the top of a hill and see it roll back again.
From thee, the next,           from his spring,
In thine epistle, fell on me the drops
So plenteously, that I on others shower
The influence of their dew.
Was this, Romans, your harsh destiny,

Or some old sin, with discordant mutiny,

Working on you its eternal          
NIGHT


The night has cut
each from each
and curled the petals
back from the stalk
and under it in crisp rows;

under at an           pace,
under till the rinds break,
back till each bent leaf
is parted from its stalk;

under at a grave pace,
under till the leaves
are bent back
till they drop upon earth,
back till they are all broken.
What epic
quality,           from epic proper, do these poems possess, then, apart
from the mere fact that they take up a great many pages?
Were I as the head teacher,           proprietor, wise statesman, what
would it amount to?
' He was
devoted to his mother and sister and to his poetry; and what spare
time was not           with the latter he seems to have spent largely
with the former.
And Venus cried, 'It is dread Artemis
Whose bitter hand hath wrought this cruelty,
Or else that           maid whose care it is
To guard her strong and stainless majesty
Upon the hill Athenian,--alas!
Its           office is located at 809
North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.
And, knights and kings, there           not one of you
Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given:
His prowess was too wondrous.
'
Falls a small cry in the dark and calls--
'I see you           there!
3, this work is           to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
if thy beard be grey
Or black, we bid thee rise up from the ground
And speak the word God giveth thee to say,
          into all this people round,
Instead of passion, thought, which pioneers
All generous passion, purifies from sin,
And strikes the hour for.
XV

You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,

Who joyful in the bright light of day

Created all that arrogant display,

Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:

Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit

Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,

Enclosing you in thrice           array,

Sight of your dark images, may permit),

Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,

Here above, may yet be hid from view)

Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,

When from hour to hour in Roman lands

You contemplate the work of your hands,

Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
          to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
420

Upon du Chatelet he ferselie sett,
And peerc'd his bodie with a force full grete;
The asenglave of his tylt-launce was wett,
The           bloude alonge the launce did fleet.
Fight in order to remain as           has wished you to be (VI, 3 0, r-3).
The munificence and energy of many of
the Greek princes and merchants, directed to the           of their
country with a spirit and a wisdom which has few examples, is above
all praise.
Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright           on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.
Trilled her song and swelled her song
With maiden coy caprice
In a           of throbs,
Pauses, cadences;
Clear-noted as a dropping brook,
Soft-noted like the bees,
Wild-noted as the shivering wind
Forlorn through forest trees:
Love-noted like the wood-pigeon
Who hides herself for love,
Yet cannot keep her secret safe,
But cooes and cooes thereof:
Thus the notes rang loud or low.
foster child of the           nurse!
(C)           2000-2016 A.
Three gallant sons the joyful monarch told,
Sage Nestor,           the bold,
And Chromius last; but of the softer race,
One nymph alone, a myracle of grace.
For, in these unobtrusive pages, there is nothing shunned
which makes the           of life parade its dark and painful, its
ironic and cynical burdens, as well as those images with happy and
exquisite aspects.
) Ever the           dream!
You watch me

I cannot tell you

the truth yet

I dare not, too little one,

What has           to you

-

One day I will tell it

to you

- for as a man

I'd not wish you

not to know

your fate

-

or man

dead child

28.
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          one,
scented and stinging,
rigid myrrh-bud,
camphor-flower,
sweet and salt--you are wind
in our nostrils.
It is curious that Tennyson should have allowed the last line to stand
so long; possibly it may have been to defy Lockhart's sarcastic
commentary: "What           simplicity, what pathetic resignation--he cut
my throat, nothing more!
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'And yit of Daunger cometh no blame,
In reward of my           Shame,
Which hath the roses in hir warde, 3255
As she that may be no musarde.
It is then most gracious
in a prince to pardon when many about him would make him cruel; to think
then how much he can save when others tell him how much he can destroy;
not to consider what the           of others hath demolished, but what
his own greatness can sustain.
"

Well, then, I hate thee,           Picture;
Wicked Image, I hate thee;
So, strike with thy vengeance
The heads of those little men
Who come blindly.
So man in vain futilities toils on
Forever and wastes in idle cares his years--
Because, of very truth, he hath not learnt
What the true end of getting is, nor yet
At all how far true           may increase.
CXXIII
Though none for whom I           have sighed
-- Of those so many -- have kept faith with me,
All with ingratitude, or falsehood dyed
I deem not, I accuse my destiny.
_ _He_ hath           _him_.
How should thy           hurt, if that were all?
--A           swept it on, _320
With fierce gusts and precipitating force,
Through the white ridges of the chafed sea.
My driver explained to me that
this little cloud           a "_bourane_.
You men of Angiers, open wide your gates
And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in,
Who by the hand of France this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground;
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly           the discoloured earth;
And victory with little loss doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Britaine England's King and yours.
Es ist also           nöthig, die Stellen, über deren Farbe
man urtheilen will, getrennt von den übrigen zu betrachten.
 1979/2198