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75 cents appeared arrived beautiful become believe boat called cause character child considered copy DEAR DEAR SIR death delighted desire edition effect England English existence express father feel Gisborne give Godwin gone hand happiness hear heard heart hope human Hunt imagination interest Italian Italy Jesus Christ kind less letter live London looked Lord Byron mankind manner means mind months moral nature never night object once opinions pain passed perhaps person Pisa pleasure poem poet possess present printed production published reason received regard remain respect Rome seemed seen sent Shelley Shelley's society soon spirit things thought tion Trelawny true truth universal vols walk wish write written wrote young
Seite 106 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Seite 157 - self-concentration " — selfishness, perhaps. You, I am sure, will forgive me for sincerely remarking that you might curb your magnanimity, and be more of an artist, and load every rift of your subject with ore.
Seite 165 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Seite 104 - A lovelier toy sweet Nature never made, A serious, subtle, wild, yet gentle being, Graceful without design and unforeseeing, With eyes — Oh speak not of her eyes! — which seem Twin mirrors of Italian Heaven, yet gleam With such deep meaning, as we never see But in the human countenance...
Seite 157 - ... and load every rift of your subject with ore. The thought of such discipline must fall like cold chains upon you, who perhaps never sat with your wings furled for six months together. And is not this extraordinary talk for the writer of Endymion, whose mind was like a pack of scattered cards ? I am picked up and sorted to a pip.
Seite 15 - I will be wise, And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannize Without reproach or check.
Seite 193 - ... our language the most subtle and imaginative passages of the Spanish poet, were marvellous, as was his command of the two languages. After this touch of his quality I no longer doubted his identity ; a dead silence ensued ; looking up, I asked, " Where is he ? " Mrs. Williams said, " Who ? Shelley? Oh, he comes and goes like a spirit, no one knows when or where.
Seite 305 - And all that believed were together, and had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need ; and they, continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favour with all the people.