Posthumous Poems of Percy Bysshe ShelleyJohn and Henry L. Hunt, 1824 - 415 páginas This volume was published just two years after Shelley's death. It collects some of his final poems, including unfinished works. Shelley's wife, Mary, was responsible for assembling the collection, and she also provides a revealing introduction. |
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Página 47
... heard all that had happened new Between the earth and moon since they had brought The last intelligence - and now she grew Pale as that moon , lost in the watery night— And now she wept , and now she laughed outright . These were tame ...
... heard all that had happened new Between the earth and moon since they had brought The last intelligence - and now she grew Pale as that moon , lost in the watery night— And now she wept , and now she laughed outright . These were tame ...
Página 66
... heard When a man marries , dies , or turns Hindoo , His best friends hear no more of him ? but you Will see him and will like him too , I hope , With the milk - white Snowdonian Antelope Matched with this cameleopard ; his fine wit ...
... heard When a man marries , dies , or turns Hindoo , His best friends hear no more of him ? but you Will see him and will like him too , I hope , With the milk - white Snowdonian Antelope Matched with this cameleopard ; his fine wit ...
Página 68
... heard , Rude , but made sweet by distance ; and a bird Which cannot be a nightingale , and yet I know none else that sings so sweet as it At this late hour ; -and then all is still : - Now Italy or London , which you will ! Next winter ...
... heard , Rude , but made sweet by distance ; and a bird Which cannot be a nightingale , and yet I know none else that sings so sweet as it At this late hour ; -and then all is still : - Now Italy or London , which you will ! Next winter ...
Página 74
... heard as there The birds , the fountains and the ocean hold Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air , And then a vision on my brain was rolled . As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay , This was the tenour of my waking dream ...
... heard as there The birds , the fountains and the ocean hold Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air , And then a vision on my brain was rolled . As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay , This was the tenour of my waking dream ...
Página 75
... lost , Upon that path where flowers never grew , And weary with vain toil and faint for thirst , Heard not the fountains , whose melodious dew Out of their mossy cells for ever burst ; Nor THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE . 75 Death.
... lost , Upon that path where flowers never grew , And weary with vain toil and faint for thirst , Heard not the fountains , whose melodious dew Out of their mossy cells for ever burst ; Nor THE TRIUMPH OF LIFE . 75 Death.
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Términos y frases comunes
Anarchs ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou Baubo beams beast beauty beneath breath bright burning calm cave cavern chasm chidden CHORUS clouds cold CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dance dark dead death deep delight DEMON desart divine dream earth EPODE eyes faint FAUST fear fierce fire fled flowers folded palm forest gaze gentle gleam green grew grey grief hair hear heart heaven Hermes JUSTINA kiss Lady leaves light lips living love waves Maddalo MEPHISTOPHELES mighty MONT BLANC moon mortal mountains move NAPLES never night o'er ocean Onchestus pale pine Pisa Pylos rocks round sate Satyr seemed shadows shapes shore SILENUS sleep smile snow soft song soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought ULYSSES vale veil voice wake wandering waves weep Whilst wild wild arms wind wings woods
Pasajes populares
Página 195 - Its passions will rock thee, As the storms rock the ravens on high ; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come.
Página 194 - WHEN the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.
Página 165 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround — Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; — To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Página 285 - The windings of the dell. — The rivulet, Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell Among the moss, with hollow harmony Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones It danced ; like childhood, laughing as it went : Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, Reflecting every herb and drooping bud \ That overhung its quietness.
Página 276 - While day-light held The sky, the Poet kept mute conference With his still soul. At night the passion came, Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, And shook him from his rest, and led him forth Into the darkness.
Página 23 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong: They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Página 81 - The great, the unforgotten, — they who wore Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light, Signs of thought's empire over thought. Their lore "Taught them not this, to know themselves ; their might Could not repress the mystery within ; And, for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night
Página 274 - His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep There came, a dream of hopes that never yet Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veiled maid Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. Her voice was like the voice of his own soul Heard in the calm of thought...
Página 8 - Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering as from waves of flame Around the vaporous sun, from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transparent 'Ere it fade,' Said my companion, 'I will show you soon A better station...
Página 263 - To the Moon Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, — And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?