The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Svazek 1Houghton, Osgood, 1865 |
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Strana iii
... hand is more or less defective and incorrect , the imper- fections arising from the confused state and in- distinct writing of the papers from which these pieces were copied . An attempt has been made to amend the text in a few cases ...
... hand is more or less defective and incorrect , the imper- fections arising from the confused state and in- distinct writing of the papers from which these pieces were copied . An attempt has been made to amend the text in a few cases ...
Strana xxxvii
... hands into both his , in his usual fervent manner , he sat down and looked at me very earnestly , with a deep , though not melancholy interest in his face . We were sitting with our knees to the fire , to which we had been getting ...
... hands into both his , in his usual fervent manner , he sat down and looked at me very earnestly , with a deep , though not melancholy interest in his face . We were sitting with our knees to the fire , to which we had been getting ...
Strana 29
... hand outstretched but to relieve ; Sunk reason's simple eloquence , that rolled But to appall the guilty . Yes ! the grave Hath quenched that eye , and death's relentless frost Withered that arm : but the unfading fame Which virtue ...
... hand outstretched but to relieve ; Sunk reason's simple eloquence , that rolled But to appall the guilty . Yes ! the grave Hath quenched that eye , and death's relentless frost Withered that arm : but the unfading fame Which virtue ...
Strana 30
... hands , Whose stakes are vice and misery . The man Of virtuous soul commands not , nor obeys . Power , like a desolating pestilence , Pollutes whate'er it touches ; and obedience , Bane of all genius , virtue , freedom , truth , Makes ...
... hands , Whose stakes are vice and misery . The man Of virtuous soul commands not , nor obeys . Power , like a desolating pestilence , Pollutes whate'er it touches ; and obedience , Bane of all genius , virtue , freedom , truth , Makes ...
Strana 38
... hand of death shall set its seal , Yet fear the cure , though hating the disease . The one is man that shall hereafter be ; The other , man as vice has made him now . War is the statesman's game , the priest's delight . The lawyer's ...
... hand of death shall set its seal , Yet fear the cure , though hating the disease . The one is man that shall hereafter be ; The other , man as vice has made him now . War is the statesman's game , the priest's delight . The lawyer's ...
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AHASUERUS art thou ASIA beams BEATRICE beautiful beneath blood breath bright calm CAMILLO CENCI child clouds cold coursers crime curse Dæmon dare dark dead death deeds deep DEMOGORGON despair doth dread dream earth eternal evil eyes fair fear feel fire fled flowers gathered gaze GIACOMO grave Greece hast hate heard heart Heaven hell hope human Italy Jupiter Laon light lips living looks LUCRETIA MAHMUD mankind MARZIO mighty mind misery moon morning mortal mountains nature night o'er ocean ORSINO pain pale PANTHEA passion peace poem poison PROMETHEUS PROMETHEUS UNBOUND Queen Mab Revolt of Islam Rome round ruin SEMICHORUS shade shadow shapes Shelley silence slavery slaves sleep smile soul sound speak spirit stars strange stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne torture truth tyrant voice wandering waves whilst wild wind wings youth καὶ
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 203 - I will be wise, And just and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power ; for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannize Without reproach or check.
Strana 177 - 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.
Strana 80 - Life of Life ! thy lips enkindle With their love the breath between them ; And thy smiles before they dwindle Make the cold air fire; then screen them In those looks, where whoso gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes. Child of Light ! thy limbs are burning Through the vest which seems to hide them ; As the radiant lines of morning Through the clouds ere they divide them ; And this atmosphere divinest Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.
Strana 11 - ... the bright chains Eat with their burning cold into my bones. Heaven's winged hound, polluting from thy lips His beak in poison not his own, tears up My heart; and shapeless sights come wandering by, The ghastly people of the realm of dream, Mocking me : and the Earthquake-fiends are charged To wrench the rivets from my quivering wounds When the rocks split and close again behind: While from their loud abysses howling throng The genii of the storm, urging the rage Of whirlwind, and afflict me...
Strana 201 - So now my summer task is ended, Mary, And I return to thee, mine own heart's home; As to his Queen some victor Knight of Faery, Earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome; Nor thou disdain that, ere my fame become A star among the stars of mortal night, If it indeed may cleave its natal gloom, Its doubtful promise thus I would unite With thy beloved name, thou Child of love and light.
Strana 160 - Mother of this unfathomable world! Favour my solemn song, for I have loved Thee ever, and thee only; I have watched Thy shadow, and the darkness of thy steps. And my heart ever gazes on the depth Of thy deep mysteries.
Strana 335 - The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
Strana 53 - His presence flow and mingle through my blood, Till it became his life, and his grew mine. And I was thus absorbed, — until it passed ; And, like the vapours, when the sun sinks down, Gathering again in drops upon the pines, And tremulous as they, in the deep night My being was condensed...
Strana 81 - My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. It seems to float ever, for ever, Upon that many-winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernesses!
Strana 4 - This Poem was chiefly written upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, among the flowery glades, and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees, which are extended in ever winding labyrinths upon its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air.