The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Including Various Additional Pieces from Ms. and Other Sources, Volume 2E. Moxon, 1870 |
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Page viii
... Night · 260 Time Long Past 260 Sonnet ( Ye hasten to the dead : what seek ye there ) 261 Shelley's Notes 261 Note by Mrs. Shelley 262 POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821- Dirge for the Year To Night · From the Arabic , an Imitation To Emilia Viviani ...
... Night · 260 Time Long Past 260 Sonnet ( Ye hasten to the dead : what seek ye there ) 261 Shelley's Notes 261 Note by Mrs. Shelley 262 POEMS WRITTEN IN 1821- Dirge for the Year To Night · From the Arabic , an Imitation To Emilia Viviani ...
Page 6
... night , With whole boots and net pantaloons , Like some one whom it were not right To mention ; or the luckless wight From whom he steals nine silver spoons . IV . But in this case he did appear Like a slop - merchant from Wapping , And ...
... night , With whole boots and net pantaloons , Like some one whom it were not right To mention ; or the luckless wight From whom he steals nine silver spoons . IV . But in this case he did appear Like a slop - merchant from Wapping , And ...
Page 25
... night he died . VI . The Devil's corpse was leaded down ; His decent heirs enjoyed his pelf , Mourning - coaches many a one Followed his hearse along the town : - Where was the Devil himself ? VII . When Peter heard of his promotion ...
... night he died . VI . The Devil's corpse was leaded down ; His decent heirs enjoyed his pelf , Mourning - coaches many a one Followed his hearse along the town : - Where was the Devil himself ? VII . When Peter heard of his promotion ...
Page 38
... night by the curtained bed , — The impudent lamps ! for they blushed not red . Dinging and singing , From slumber I rung her , Loud as the clank of an ironmonger ! Hum ! hum ! hum ! Far , far , far , With the trump of my lips , and the ...
... night by the curtained bed , — The impudent lamps ! for they blushed not red . Dinging and singing , From slumber I rung her , Loud as the clank of an ironmonger ! Hum ! hum ! hum ! Far , far , far , With the trump of my lips , and the ...
Page 57
... night Seen through a tempest's cloven roof ; her hair Dark ; the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight , Picturing her form . Her soft smiles shone afar ; And her low voice was heard like love , and drew All living things towards this ...
... night Seen through a tempest's cloven roof ; her hair Dark ; the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight , Picturing her form . Her soft smiles shone afar ; And her low voice was heard like love , and drew All living things towards this ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ahasuerus Apennine art thou beams beauty beneath blood bosom breast breath bright calm cave cavern chidden Chorus clouds cold Cyclops Cyprian Dæmon dark dead death deep delight divine dost dream earth eternal eyes faint Faust fear fire fled flowers gentle Gisborne glory golden grave Greece green hear heart heaven hope Iona King kiss Lady leaves Leigh Hunt Lerici light living Lord Lord Byron Mahmud melody Mephistopheles mighty moon morning mortal mountains Naples never night nursling o'er ocean pale Peter Bell Pisa poem Pyrganax rain round ruin SEMICHORUS shadow Shelley Shelley's Silenus sleep smile soft song Sophia Stacey sorrow soul sound spirit splendour stanza stars storm stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne Tmolus tower Ulysses veil verse voice wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wings words
Popular passages
Page 207 - Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year...
Page 295 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Page 210 - 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 ? — To thy chamber- window, sweet ! The wandering airs, they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The champak odors fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream ; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart, As I must die on thine, O, beloved as thou art!
Page 237 - 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. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Page 183 - 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.
Page 105 - Oh, not of him, but of our joy: 'tis nought That ages, empires, and religions there Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought; For such as he can lend, — they borrow not Glory from those who made the world their prey; And he is gathered to the kings of thought Who waged contention with their time's decay, And of the past are all that cannot pass away.
Page 237 - 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...
Page 104 - 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; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light...
Page 138 - Oh, cease! must hate and death return ? Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last!
Page 240 - Teach us, sprite or bird, What sweet thoughts are thine: I have never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.