The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Volumen3J. Miller, 1871 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 30
Página 11
... Potter . This is at once more descriptive and more megalophonous , -but the alliteration of the text had captivated the vulgar ear of the herd of later commentators . PETER BELL THE THIRD . PART THE FIRST . DEATH PROLOGUE . 11.
... Potter . This is at once more descriptive and more megalophonous , -but the alliteration of the text had captivated the vulgar ear of the herd of later commentators . PETER BELL THE THIRD . PART THE FIRST . DEATH PROLOGUE . 11.
Página 21
... mind which was somehow At once circumference and centre Of all he might or feel or know ; Nothing went ever out , although Something did ever enter . He had as much imagination As a pint - pot PETER BELL THE THIRD . 21 Damnation.
... mind which was somehow At once circumference and centre Of all he might or feel or know ; Nothing went ever out , although Something did ever enter . He had as much imagination As a pint - pot PETER BELL THE THIRD . 21 Damnation.
Página 39
... once to the sun and the breeze , Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees , Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells , As fair as the fabulous asphodels , And flowrets which drooping as day drooped too , Fell into pavilions ...
... once to the sun and the breeze , Some lost among bowers of blossoming trees , Were all paved with daisies and delicate bells , As fair as the fabulous asphodels , And flowrets which drooping as day drooped too , Fell into pavilions ...
Página 44
... once fair , becaine cold and foul , Like the corpse of her who had been its soul : Which at first was lovely as if in sleep , Then slowly changed , till it grew a heap To make men tremble who never weep . Swift summer into the autumn ...
... once fair , becaine cold and foul , Like the corpse of her who had been its soul : Which at first was lovely as if in sleep , Then slowly changed , till it grew a heap To make men tremble who never weep . Swift summer into the autumn ...
Página 52
... once from their vitals tremendously , And ' tis borne down the mountainous vale of the wave , Rebounding , like thunder , from crag to cave , Mixed with the clash of the lashing rain , Hurried on by the might of the hurricane : The ...
... once from their vitals tremendously , And ' tis borne down the mountainous vale of the wave , Rebounding , like thunder , from crag to cave , Mixed with the clash of the lashing rain , Hurried on by the might of the hurricane : The ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
Adonais ANTISTROPHE art thou Bay of Spezia beams beast beautiful beneath boat breath bright burning calm cave cavern chidden CHORUS clouds cold cradle CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dance dark dead dear death deep delight Devil divine dream earth eternal eyes faint fair FAUST fear fire flame transformed fled flowers gentle glorious golden gray green grew heart heaven Hermes immortal Jove JUSTINA kiss leaves LEIGH HUNT Lerici light living MEPHISTOPHELES mighty moon mortal mountain never night o'er ocean odour Onchestus pale Peter Bell Pisa poem rain rocks round SEMICHORUS Serchio shadow Shelley shore SILENUS sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit splendour stars storm strange stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought trembling ULYSSES veil Via Reggio voice wake wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wings Witch woods
Pasajes populares
Página 57 - 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,— 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.
Página 62 - Yet if we could scorn Hate and pride and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then — as I am listening now.
Página 165 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night ; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...
Página 61 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains ? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear, keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Página 164 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — He hath awakened from the dream of life — 'Tis we, who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Página 170 - SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night ! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, — Swift be thy flight...
Página 179 - Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory — Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Página 152 - Oh weep for Adonais, though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head ! And thou, sad Hour selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow ! Say : " With me Died Adonais ! Till the future dares Forget the past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity.
Página 60 - Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view: 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-awaken'd flowers, All that ever was Joyous and clear and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
Página 195 - O World! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before, — When will return the glory of your prime ? No more — oh never more...