With Shelley in Italy: Being a Selection of the Poems and Letters of Percy Bysshe Shelley which Have to Do with His Life in Italy from 1818 to 1822A. C. McClurg & Company, 1905 - 293 pàgines |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
With Shelley in Italy: Being a Selection of the Poems and Letters of Percy ... Percy Bysshe Shelley Visualització completa - 1905 |
With Shelley in Italy: A Selection of the Poems and Letters of Percy Bysshe ... Percy Bysshe Shelley Visualització completa - 1907 |
With Shelley in Italy: A Selection of the Poems and Letters of Percy Bysshe ... Percy Bysshe Shelley Visualització completa - 1907 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Adonais ANTISTROPHE Apennines arch Arch of Constantine Arch of Titus azure Bagni di Lucca Bay of Lerici Beatrice beauty beneath Bernardo blue bowers breath bright calm caverns Cenci clouds cold columns dark dead death deep delight desolation didst divine dome dream earth eternal Euganean Hills fire Florence flowers forest gentle golden green grey heart heaven hill hope isle Italy John Keats leaves Leigh Hunt Lerici Letter light living Lord Byron loveliness marble Moon mountains Naples never night o'er ocean odour palace pale pass pierce Pisa poem Pompeii Prometheus Prometheus Unbound rain Ravenna rocks Rome ruins sails shadow Shelley Shelley's singing sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit splendour star storm stream sublime sweet tears temple thee thine things thou art thought tomb tower Uffizi Gallery veil voice wandering waves weep wild wilderness wind wings woods
Passatges populars
Pàgina 210 - 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?
Pàgina 160 - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass" through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Pàgina 216 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear...
Pàgina 115 - 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...
Pàgina 141 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright; I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me — who knows how?
Pàgina 159 - 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 : And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees...
Pàgina 139 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean.
Pàgina 214 - O, 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.
Pàgina 222 - That light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Pàgina 140 - 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.