The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Including Various Additional Pieces from Ms. and Other Sources, Volume 2E. Moxon, 1870 |
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... wild with weeping for a grief PAGE 298 299 299 299 307 308 308 308 308 309 309 309 310 312 312 312 312 25. Flourishing vine whose kindling clusters grow 313 26. Scene from Tasso - Song for Tasso . 313 27. Marenghi 314 28. Follow to the ...
... wild with weeping for a grief PAGE 298 299 299 299 307 308 308 308 308 309 309 309 310 312 312 312 312 25. Flourishing vine whose kindling clusters grow 313 26. Scene from Tasso - Song for Tasso . 313 27. Marenghi 314 28. Follow to the ...
Page 61
... wild home , And her own thoughts were each a minister , Clothing themselves or with the ocean foam , Or with the wind , or with the speed of fire , To work whatever purposes might come Into her mind such power her mighty Sire Had girt ...
... wild home , And her own thoughts were each a minister , Clothing themselves or with the ocean foam , Or with the wind , or with the speed of fire , To work whatever purposes might come Into her mind such power her mighty Sire Had girt ...
Page 71
... wild surface to an unknown goal ; But she in the calm depths her way could take , Where in bright bowers immortal forms abide Beneath the weltering of the restless tide . LXIV . And she saw princes couched under the glow Of sunlike gems ...
... wild surface to an unknown goal ; But she in the calm depths her way could take , Where in bright bowers immortal forms abide Beneath the weltering of the restless tide . LXIV . And she saw princes couched under the glow Of sunlike gems ...
Page 79
... wild odour is felt , Beyond the sense , like fiery dews that melt Into the bosom of a frozen bud . See where she stands ! a mortal shape indued With love and life and light and deity , And motion which may change but cannot die ; An ...
... wild odour is felt , Beyond the sense , like fiery dews that melt Into the bosom of a frozen bud . See where she stands ! a mortal shape indued With love and life and light and deity , And motion which may change but cannot die ; An ...
Page 86
... wild Called Hope and Fear . Upon the heart are piled Their offerings , -of this sacrifice divine A world shall be the altar . Lady mine , Scorn not these flowers of thought , the fading birth Which from its heart of hearts that plant ...
... wild Called Hope and Fear . Upon the heart are piled Their offerings , -of this sacrifice divine A world shall be the altar . Lady mine , Scorn not these flowers of thought , the fading birth Which from its heart of hearts that plant ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ahasuerus Apennine art thou beams beauty beneath blood bosom breast breath bright calm cave cavern chidden Chorus clouds cold Cyclops Cyprian Dæmon dark dead death deep delight divine dost dream earth eternal eyes faint Faust fear fire fled flowers gentle Gisborne glory golden grave Greece green hear heart heaven hope Iona King kiss Lady leaves Leigh Hunt Lerici light living Lord Lord Byron Mahmud melody Mephistopheles mighty moon morning mortal mountains Naples never night nursling o'er ocean pale Peter Bell Pisa poem Pyrganax rain round ruin SEMICHORUS shadow Shelley Shelley's Silenus sleep smile soft song Sophia Stacey sorrow soul sound spirit splendour stanza stars storm stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne Tmolus tower Ulysses veil verse voice wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wings words
Popular passages
Page 207 - Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year...
Page 295 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Page 210 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright ; I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me — who knows how ? — To thy chamber- window, sweet ! The wandering airs, they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The champak odors fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart, As I must die on thine, O, beloved as thou art!
Page 237 - The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Page 183 - 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.
Page 105 - Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought That ages, empires, and religions there Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought; For such as he can lend, — they borrow not Glory from those who made the world their prey; And he is gathered to the kings of thought Who waged contention with their time's decay, And of the past are all that cannot pass away.
Page 237 - That orbed maiden , with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn...
Page 104 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light...
Page 138 - Oh, cease! must hate and death return ? Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
Page 240 - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.