The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe ShelleyH. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1909 - 912 pages |
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Page 17
... 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 . When early youth had passed , he left 75 His cold fireside and alienated home To seek ...
... 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 . When early youth had passed , he left 75 His cold fireside and alienated home To seek ...
Page 19
... fled The hues of heaven that canopied his bower Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly Of yesternight ? The sounds that soothed his sleep , The mystery and the majesty of Earth , The joy , the exultation ? His wan eyes As ocean's moon ...
... fled The hues of heaven that canopied his bower Gaze on the empty scene as vacantly Of yesternight ? The sounds that soothed his sleep , The mystery and the majesty of Earth , The joy , the exultation ? His wan eyes As ocean's moon ...
Page 22
... fled before the storm ; still fled , like foam Down the steep cataract of a wintry river ; Now pausing on the edge of the riven wave ; Now leaving far behind the bursting mass That fell , convulsing ocean : safely fled- As if that frail ...
... fled before the storm ; still fled , like foam Down the steep cataract of a wintry river ; Now pausing on the edge of the riven wave ; Now leaving far behind the bursting mass That fell , convulsing ocean : safely fled- As if that frail ...
Page 28
... fled , Did he resign his high and holy soul To images of the majestic past , That paused within his passive being now , 630 Through some dim latticed chamber . He did place Like winds that bear sweet music , when they breathe His pale ...
... fled , Did he resign his high and holy soul To images of the majestic past , That paused within his passive being now , 630 Through some dim latticed chamber . He did place Like winds that bear sweet music , when they breathe His pale ...
Page 29
... fled Like some frail exhalation ; which the dawn Robes in its golden beams , -ah ! thou hast fled ! The brave , the gentle , and the beautiful , The child of grace and genius . Heartless things Are done and said i ' the world , and many ...
... fled Like some frail exhalation ; which the dawn Robes in its golden beams , -ah ! thou hast fled ! The brave , the gentle , and the beautiful , The child of grace and genius . Heartless things Are done and said i ' the world , and many ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ahasuerus art thou beams beasts Beatrice beautiful beneath blood Bodleian Library Boscombe breath bright calm cave Cenci child Chorus clouds cold Cyclops Daemon dark dead death deep delight Demogorgon dream earth editio princeps eternal eyes faint fear fire fled flowers FRAGMENT gentle golden grave green heart Heaven hope human Iona King Laon Leigh Hunt light lips living look Lucretia Mahmud Mammon Mephistopheles mighty mind moon morning mortal mountains never night o'er ocean Orsino pale Panthea Peter Bell Pisa Posthumous Poems Prometheus Prometheus Unbound Published Purganax Relics of Shelley Rossetti round ruin sate Semichorus shadow Shelley's silent Silenus slaves sleep smile song soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet Swellfoot swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne transcript Trelawny truth tyrant veil voice wandering waves weep wild wind wings
Popular passages
Page 571 - 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 Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)...
Page 593 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade 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 I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 594 - 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, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Page 593 - 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 beneath...
Page 572 - Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
Page 572 - The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings...
Page 594 - 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...
Page 572 - 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! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Page 572 - 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...
Page 568 - AN old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king ; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn — mud from a muddy spring ; Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know.