Posthumous Poems of Percy Bysshe ShelleyJohn and Henry L. Hunt, 1824 - 415 страници This volume was published just two years after Shelley's death. It collects some of his final poems, including unfinished works. Shelley's wife, Mary, was responsible for assembling the collection, and she also provides a revealing introduction. |
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Страница ix
... Song • To Constantia , singing The Fugitives A Lament The Pine Forest To Night Evening Arethusa The Question Lines to an Indian Air Stanzas Autumn , a Dirge Hymn of Apollo 139 141 143 145 148 149 154 • 156 157 · 161 163 • 164 166 167 ...
... Song • To Constantia , singing The Fugitives A Lament The Pine Forest To Night Evening Arethusa The Question Lines to an Indian Air Stanzas Autumn , a Dirge Hymn of Apollo 139 141 143 145 148 149 154 • 156 157 · 161 163 • 164 166 167 ...
Страница x
... Song The Sunset On a Faded Violet Lines to a Critic Good - Night To - morrow Death · A Lament Love's Philosophy To E ... Song of a Spirit Liberty 205 206 207 208 209 • 210 To 211 The Isle 213 To 214 Time 215 Lines 216 A Song 217 The ...
... Song The Sunset On a Faded Violet Lines to a Critic Good - Night To - morrow Death · A Lament Love's Philosophy To E ... Song of a Spirit Liberty 205 206 207 208 209 • 210 To 211 The Isle 213 To 214 Time 215 Lines 216 A Song 217 The ...
Страница xi
... Song for Tasso 264 The Waning Moon 265 Epitaph 266 ALASTOR , OR THE SPIRIT OF Solitude 267 TRANSLATIONS . Hymn to Mercury , from Homer 295 The Cyclops , from Eurypides 329 • Translation from Moschus 362 Scenes from the " Magico ...
... Song for Tasso 264 The Waning Moon 265 Epitaph 266 ALASTOR , OR THE SPIRIT OF Solitude 267 TRANSLATIONS . Hymn to Mercury , from Homer 295 The Cyclops , from Eurypides 329 • Translation from Moschus 362 Scenes from the " Magico ...
Страница 23
... song . " If I had been an unconnected man , I , from this moment , should have form'd some plan Never to leave sweet Venice : for to me It was delight to ride by the lone sea : And then the town is silent - one may write , Or read in ...
... song . " If I had been an unconnected man , I , from this moment , should have form'd some plan Never to leave sweet Venice : for to me It was delight to ride by the lone sea : And then the town is silent - one may write , Or read in ...
Страница 49
... song , Distortions foul of supernatural awe , And pale imaginings of visioned wrong , And all the code of custom's lawless law Written upon the brows of old and young : " This , " said the wizard maiden , " is the strife , Which stirs ...
... song , Distortions foul of supernatural awe , And pale imaginings of visioned wrong , And all the code of custom's lawless law Written upon the brows of old and young : " This , " said the wizard maiden , " is the strife , Which stirs ...
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Anarchs ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou Baubo beams beast beauty beneath breath bright burning calm cave cavern chasm chidden CHORUS clouds cold CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dance dark dead death deep delight DEMON desart divine dream earth EPODE eyes faint FAUST fear fierce fire fled flowers folded palm forest gaze gentle gleam green grew grey grief hair hear heart heaven Hermes JUSTINA kiss Lady leaves light lips living love waves Maddalo MEPHISTOPHELES mighty MONT BLANC moon mortal mountains move NAPLES never night o'er ocean Onchestus pale pine Pisa Pylos rocks round sate Satyr seemed shadows shapes shore SILENUS sleep smile snow soft song soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought ULYSSES vale veil voice wake wandering waves weep Whilst wild wild arms wind wings woods
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Страница 195 - Its passions will rock thee, As the storms rock the ravens on high ; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come.
Страница 194 - 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.
Страница 165 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround — Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; — To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Страница 285 - The windings of the dell. — The rivulet, Wanton and wild, through many a green ravine Beneath the forest flowed. Sometimes it fell Among the moss, with hollow harmony Dark and profound. Now on the polished stones It danced ; like childhood, laughing as it went : Then, through the plain in tranquil wanderings crept, Reflecting every herb and drooping bud \ That overhung its quietness.
Страница 276 - While day-light held The sky, the Poet kept mute conference With his still soul. At night the passion came, Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream, And shook him from his rest, and led him forth Into the darkness.
Страница 23 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong: They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Страница 81 - The great, the unforgotten, — they who wore Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light, Signs of thought's empire over thought. Their lore "Taught them not this, to know themselves ; their might Could not repress the mystery within ; And, for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night
Страница 274 - His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep There came, a dream of hopes that never yet Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veiled maid Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. Her voice was like the voice of his own soul Heard in the calm of thought...
Страница 8 - Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering as from waves of flame Around the vaporous sun, from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transparent 'Ere it fade,' Said my companion, 'I will show you soon A better station...
Страница 263 - To the Moon Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, — And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy?