Shelley Memorials: From Authentic SourcesLady Jane Gibson Shelley Edward Moxon, 1862 - 290 Seiten |
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affectionate appear arrived asserted beautiful believe boat Bysshe Cenci character child copy DEAR SHELLEY DEAR SIR death delightful divine doctrines England evil express father feel Field Place genius Gisborne give Godwin gone happy hear heard heart Hookham hope Horace Smith HORATIO SMITH human imagination Italian Italy Jesus Christ justice Keats kind Leghorn Leigh Hunt Lerici letter liberty literary live London Lord Byron mankind MARY Mengaldo mind miserable moral Naples nature never night Ollier opinions P. B. SHELLEY pain passed passion PERCY Percy Shelley Pisa pleasure poem poet poetry possess Pray printed Prometheus Prometheus Unbound published Queen Mab received Revolt of Islam Rome seemed sent Shelley wrote Shelley's sincere Sir Timothy society spirit things thou thought tion Trelawny truth Via Reggio walk WILLIAM GODWIN Williams wish write written young
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Seite 102 - 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, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Seite 13 - Which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground — So without shame I spake: '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 100 - The following morn was rainy, cold and dim: Ere Maddalo arose, I called on him, And whilst I waited with his child I played; 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 13 - I do remember well the hour which burst My spirit's sleep. A fresh May-dawn it was, When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, And wept, I knew not why : until there rose From the near schoolroom voices that, alas! Were but one echo from a world of woes — The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.
Seite 83 - Eldon, an ermined gown; His big tears, for he wept well, Turned to mill-stones as they fell. And the little children, who Round his feet played to and fro, Thinking every tear a gem, Had their brains knocked out by them.
Seite 92 - Yet, after all, I cannot but be conscious, in much of what I write, of an absence of that tranquillity which is the attribute and accompaniment of power.
Seite 282 - Think not that I am come to destroy the law, and the prophets : I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil.
Seite 59 - I have not seen this production for several years. I doubt not but that it is perfectly worthless in point of literary composition ; and that, in all that concerns moral and political speculation, as well as in the subtler discriminations of metaphysical and religious doctrine, it is still more crude and immature.
Seite 149 - 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...
Seite 125 - ... that Lord Byron imitates Wordsworth, or that Wordsworth imitates Lord Byron, both being great poets, and deriving from the new springs of thought and feeling, which the great events of our age have exposed to view, a similar tone of sentiment, imagery, and expression. A certain similarity all the best writers of any particular age inevitably are marked with, from the spirit of that age acting on all.