The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One VolumeJohn Grigg, 1831 - 607 páginas |
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Página 57
... Lord he gives , The Lord , he takes away : O Sir ! the child of my old age Lies there as cold as clay . Except that grave , you scarce see one That was not dug by me : I'd rather dance upon ' em all Than tread upon these three ! " Ay ...
... Lord he gives , The Lord , he takes away : O Sir ! the child of my old age Lies there as cold as clay . Except that grave , you scarce see one That was not dug by me : I'd rather dance upon ' em all Than tread upon these three ! " Ay ...
Página 74
... lord , The OCEAN hath no blast ; His great bright eye most silently It ceased ; yet still the sails made on Up to the Moon is cast- A pleasant noise till noon , A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June , If he may know ...
... lord , The OCEAN hath no blast ; His great bright eye most silently It ceased ; yet still the sails made on Up to the Moon is cast- A pleasant noise till noon , A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June , If he may know ...
Página 75
... Lord ! it hath a fiendish look- ( The Pilot made reply , ) I am a - fear'd " — " Push on , push on ! " his Said the Hermit cheerily . This seraph band , each waved his hand , The boat came closer to the ship , But I nor spake nor stirr ...
... Lord ! it hath a fiendish look- ( The Pilot made reply , ) I am a - fear'd " — " Push on , push on ! " his Said the Hermit cheerily . This seraph band , each waved his hand , The boat came closer to the ship , But I nor spake nor stirr ...
Página 80
... Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine ? Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above , And life is thorny ; and youth is vain : And to be wroth with one we love , Doth ...
... Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine ? Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above , And life is thorny ; and youth is vain : And to be wroth with one we love , Doth ...
Página 81
... Lord Roland call , Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall ! Thy beautiful daughter is safe and free- Sir Leoline greets thee thus through me . He bids thee come without delay With all thy numerous array ; And take thy lovely daughter ...
... Lord Roland call , Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall ! Thy beautiful daughter is safe and free- Sir Leoline greets thee thus through me . He bids thee come without delay With all thy numerous array ; And take thy lovely daughter ...
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The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume Samuel Taylor Coleridge Sin vista previa disponible - 2012 |
Términos y frases comunes
AHASUERUS ALHADRA ALVAR arms art thou BATHORY BEATRICE beneath BETHLEN blood breath bright BUTLER calm cavern CENCI child clouds COUNTESS curse CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dare dark dead dear death deep DEMOGORGON doth dream earth Egra EMERICK eyes fair faith father fear feel flowers gaze gentle GLYCINE hast hath hear heard heart Heaven hope hour human ILLO ISIDORE ISOLANI lady LASKA light lips living look look'd Lord MEPHISTOPHELES mighty moon mother mountains never night o'er OCTAVIO ORDONIO pale PANTHEA poison'd PROMETHEUS QUESTENBERG RAAB KIUPRILI Robespierre round SAROLTA SCENE seem'd SEMICHORUS shadow silent SILENUS slaves sleep smile song soul sound speak spirit stars strange stream sweet tears tempest TERESA TERTSKY thee THEKLA thine things thou art thought throne truth Twas tyrant VALDEZ voice WALLENSTEIN waves weep wild wind wings words
Pasajes populares
Página 458 - I bear light shades 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 1 dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Página 460 - 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 72 - But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made ; Its path was not upon the sea In ripple or in shade.
Página 459 - I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured bow; The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, While the moist earth was laughing below.
Página 75 - There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Página 459 - 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 ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer...
Página 453 - So sweet, the sense faints picturing them ! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves...
Página 453 - ODE TO THE WEST WIND O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow...
Página 460 - 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 459 - 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 sea...