You simply cannot find a series of the Cantos on the internet. They are not online: they are published, the books hard to find (yes I have some of them) and there are legal scriveners examining for the text. Perhaps it his fascism: perhaps it is that he’s difficult (not mad): perhaps it is because at times he is good.

He missed this. After Early Modernism there was nothing.

The Young Pound.


Ere the season died a-cold

Borne upon a zephyr’s shoulder

I rose through the aureate sky

                               Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest

                               Dolmetsch ever be thy guest,

Has he tempered the viol’s wood

To enforce   both the grave   and the acute?

Has he curved us the bowl of the lute?

                               Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest

                               Dolmetsch ever be thy guest

Hast ’ou fashioned so airy a mood

       To draw up leaf from the root?

Hast ’ou found   a cloud   so light

        As seemed neither mist nor shade?


                                Then resolve me, tell me aright

                                 If Waller sang or Dowland played


                   Your eyen two wol sleye me sodenly

                    I may the beauté of hem nat susteyne


And for 180 years almost nothing.

Ezra Pound, Libretto, Canto 81.

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