The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Band 2

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Houghton Mifflin, 1892
 

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LibraryThing Review

Nutzerbericht  - jarvenpa - LibraryThing

I had a friend who loved Shelley, and how I mocked her for it. Until I grew older, and fell in love with his excess. Vollständige Rezension lesen

LibraryThing Review

Nutzerbericht  - Fledgist - LibraryThing

Complete works of Shelley. This is a valuable work, and worthy of reading. Vollständige Rezension lesen

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Seite 154 - The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal; unclassed, tribeless, and nationless, Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king Over himself ; just, gentle, wise...
Seite 58 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong, They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Seite 421 - The rocks are cloven, and through the purple night I see cars drawn by rainbow-winged steeds Which trample the dim winds: in each there stands A wild-eyed charioteer urging their flight. Some look behind, as fiends pursued them there, And yet I see no shapes but the keen stars: Others, with burning eyes, lean forth, and drink With eager lips the wind of their own speed. As if the thing they loved fled on before, And now, even now, they clasped it. Their bright locks Stream like a comet's flashing...
Seite 135 - Lamp of Earth ! where'er thou movest Its dim shapes are clad with brightness, And the souls of whom thou lovest Walk upon the winds with lightness, Till they fail, as I am failing, Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing...
Seite 302 - And though 111 tongues shall wound me, and our common name Be as a mark stamped on thine innocent brow For men to point at as they pass, do thou Forbear, and never think a thought unkind Of those, who perhaps love thee in their graves.
Seite 81 - I curse thee ! let a sufferer's curse Clasp thee, his torturer, like remorse ; Till thine Infinity shall be A robe of envenomed agony ; And thine Omnipotence a crown of pain, To cling like burning gold round thy dissolving brain...
Seite 64 - This Poem was chiefly written upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, among the flowery glades, and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees, which are extended in ever winding labyrinths upon its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air.
Seite 93 - One came forth of gentle worth Smiling on the sanguine earth ; His words outlived him, like swift poison Withering up truth, peace, and pity. Look! where round the wide horizon Many a million-peopled city Vomits smoke in the bright air. Mark that outcry of despair! 'Tis his mild and gentle ghost Wailing for the faith he kindled: Look again, the flames almost To a glow-worm's lamp have dwindled: The survivors round the embers Gather in dread.
Seite 134 - Make the cold air fire ; then screen them In those looks, where whoso gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes. Child of Light ! thy limbs are burning Through the vest which seems to hide them; As the radiant lines of morning Through the clouds ere they divide them ; And this atmosphere divinest Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.
Seite 307 - I met Murder on the way — He had a mask like Castlereagh — Very smooth he looked, yet grim; Seven blood-hounds followed him: All were fat; and well they might Be in admirable plight, For one by one, and two by two, He tossed them human hearts to chew Which from his wide cloak he drew.

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