The Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley in Verse and Prose: Now First Together with Many Pieces Not Before PublishedReeves and Turner, 1880 |
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Page 8
... innocent and brave ; one of more exalted toleration for all who do and think evil , and yet himself more free from evil ; one who knows better how to receive , and how to confer a benefit though he must ever confer far more than he can ...
... innocent and brave ; one of more exalted toleration for all who do and think evil , and yet himself more free from evil ; one who knows better how to receive , and how to confer a benefit though he must ever confer far more than he can ...
Page 44
... Innocent lambs ! They thought not any ill . You were not here conspiring ? You said nothing Of how I might be dungeoned as a madman ; Or be condemned to death for some offence , And you would be the witnesses ? -This failing , How just ...
... Innocent lambs ! They thought not any ill . You were not here conspiring ? You said nothing Of how I might be dungeoned as a madman ; Or be condemned to death for some offence , And you would be the witnesses ? -This failing , How just ...
Page 48
... innocent sister and my only brother Are dying underneath my father's eye . The memorable torturers of this land , Galeaz Visconti , Borgia , Ezzelin , Never inflicted on the meanest slave What these endure ; shall they have no ...
... innocent sister and my only brother Are dying underneath my father's eye . The memorable torturers of this land , Galeaz Visconti , Borgia , Ezzelin , Never inflicted on the meanest slave What these endure ; shall they have no ...
Page 56
... innocent ? Is it my crime That one with white hair , and imperious brow , Who tortured me from my forgotten years , As parents only dare , should call himself My father , yet should be ! -Oh , what am I ? What name , what place , what ...
... innocent ? Is it my crime That one with white hair , and imperious brow , Who tortured me from my forgotten years , As parents only dare , should call himself My father , yet should be ! -Oh , what am I ? What name , what place , what ...
Page 58
... innocence ; Till in your season you be called to heaven . Whate'er you may have suffered , you have done No evil . Death must be the punishment Of crime , or the reward of trampling down The thorns which God has strewed upon the path ...
... innocence ; Till in your season you be called to heaven . Whate'er you may have suffered , you have done No evil . Death must be the punishment Of crime , or the reward of trampling down The thorns which God has strewed upon the path ...
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The Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley in Verse and Prose, Now First Brought ... Percy Bysshe Shelley No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
art thou ASIA azure BEATRICE beautiful beneath BERNARDO blood Boeotia breath bright calm CAMILLO cave Cenci child cloud comma coursers crime Dæmons dare dark dead death deed deep DEMOGORGON doubt dream earth edition of 1839 edition we read eyes father fear fire flowers FURY gentle GIACOMO hair hate hear heart heaven hell hour innocent Iona IONE Jupiter light list of errata living look LUCRETIA MARZIO MINOTAUR moon mother mountains never night o'er ocean OLIMPIO ORSINO pain pale PANTHEA parricide pigs poem printed Prometheus Unbound PURGANAX rain Rossetti round SAVELLA says SCENE seems SEMICHORUS sense shadow Shelley Shelley's edition Shelley's first edition sister slave sleep smile soul sound speak spirit stanza stars styes sweet SWELLFOOT swine tears Thebes thee thine things thou art thought thro throne torture truth voice waves wind wings word
Popular passages
Page 296 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 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.
Page 301 - Thou dost float and run ; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. The pale purple even Melts around thy flight Like a star of Heaven, In the broad daylight Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight, 20 Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear Until we hardly see — we feel that it is there.
Page 297 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent...
Page 293 - Oh lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
Page 297 - The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star shines dead ; As on the jag of a mountain crag, Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit...
Page 302 - Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
Page 298 - Till the calm rivers, lakes and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone, And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Page 296 - 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. Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers Lightning my pilot sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder.
Page 181 - He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be : But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality.
Page 302 - Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, singing hymns unbidden till the world is wrought to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. Like a highborn maiden in a palace tower, soothing her love-laden soul in secret hour with music sweet as love, which overflows her bower.