Shelley: A Critical Biography

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D. Douglas, 1877 - 249 Seiten
 

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Seite 217 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird ; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own ; Which wields the world with never wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Seite 241 - 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...
Seite 231 - Yet if we could scorn Hate and pride and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then — as I am listening now.
Seite 239 - The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.
Seite 94 - A power from the unknown God, A Promethean conqueror came ; Like a triumphal path he trod The thorns of death and shame. A mortal shape to him Was like the vapour dim Which the orient planet animates with light...
Seite 240 - Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream , under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star shines dead.
Seite 214 - Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river, Sparkling, bursting, borne away. But they are still immortal , • Who, through birth's orient portal And death's dark chasm hurrying to and fro, Clothe their unceasing flight In the brief dust and light Gathered around their chariots as they go...
Seite 241 - 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.
Seite 11 - JMD MEIKLEJOHN, MA, Professor of the Theory, History, and Practice of Education in the University of St Andrews. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
Seite 235 - Mont Blanc yet gleams on high :—the power is there, The still and solemn power of many sights And many sounds, and much of life and death.

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