Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Volum 2
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Visualitzaciˇ completa - 1895
The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Volum 1
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Visualitzaciˇ completa - 1839
The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Including Various ..., Volum 1
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Visualitzaciˇ completa - 1870
Ahasuerus Anarchs ANTISTROPHE art thou beams beasts Beatr Beatrice beautiful beneath blood breath bright burning calm cave Cenci child clouds cold coursers curse dare dark dead death deep DEMOGORGON despair doth dream earth eternal eyes faint fair fear fire flame fled flowers gaze gentle Giac golden grave green grew grey hair hate hear heard heart heaven hell hope hopes and fears human Iona Laon light lips living lone looks Lucr mighty moon morning mortal mountains night nurslings o'er ocean pain pale PANTHEA peace Peter Bell round ruin sate scorn SEMICHORUS shade shadow shapes silent slavery slaves sleep smile soul sound speak spirit stars strange stream sweet swift tears tempest Thebes thee thine things thou art thought throne tremble tremulous truth twas tyrant veil voice wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wings
PÓgina 453 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning ; there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, ev'n from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height — The locks of the approaching storm.
PÓgina 503 - WHEN the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not ; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute : No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman's knell.
PÓgina 333 - Go thou to Rome, — at once the Paradise, The grave, the city, and the wilderness; And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness, Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
PÓgina 454 - Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!
PÓgina 552 - 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 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!
PÓgina 454 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce. My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
PÓgina 504 - I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow...
PÓgina 256 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates; Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.
PÓgina 327 - Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst As it has ever done, with change and motion, From the great morning of the world when first God dawned on Chaos; in its...