The Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley in Verse and Prose, how First Brought Together with Many Pieces Not Before Published, Volum 1

Portada
Reeves and Turner, 1880
0 Ressenyes
Les ressenyes no es verifiquen, però Google comprova si hi ha contingut fals i el suprimeix quan l'identifica.
 

Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya

No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.

Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot

Frases i termes més freqüents

Passatges populars

Pàgina xxvii - On a poet's lips I slept, Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept. Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. 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.
Pàgina 374 - Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming, Sudden, thy shadow fell on me ; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy ! I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine : have I not kept the vow...
Pàgina 372 - Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, where art thou gone ? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate...
Pàgina 376 - I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read...
Pàgina xl - Yet wherefore ? Quench within their burning bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep, Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep ; For he is gone where all things wise and fair Descend. Oh dream not that the amorous deep Will yet restore him to the vital air ; Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.
Pàgina 376 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed : And on the pedestal these words appear : 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !
Pàgina 103 - Without reproach or check." I then controlled My tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold. And from that hour did I with earnest thought Heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore, Yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught I cared to learn, but from that secret store Wrought linked armour for my soul, before It might walk forth to war among mankind...
Pàgina 182 - But on her forehead and within her eye Lay beauty, which makes hearts that feed thereon Sick with excess of sweetness; — on the throne She leaned. The King, with gathered brow and lips Wreathed by long scorn, did inly sneer and frown With hue like that when some great painter dips His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.
Pàgina 372 - Why fear and dream and death and birth Cast on the daylight of this earth Such gloom, why man has such a scope For love and hate, despondency and hope...
Pàgina 23 - By solemn vision and bright silver dream His infancy was nurtured. Every sight And sound from the vast earth and ambient air Sent to his heart its choicest impulses. The fountains of divine philosophy Fled not his thirsting lips : and all of great Or good or lovely which the sacred past In truth or fable consecrates he felt And knew.

Informació bibliogràfica