The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One VolumeJohn Grigg, 1831 - 607 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 13
... cold earth Otway's famish'd form ! Sublime of thought , and confident of fame , From vales where Avon winds , the Minstrel * came . Light - hearted youth ! aye , as he hastes along , He meditates the future song , How dauntless Ella ...
... cold earth Otway's famish'd form ! Sublime of thought , and confident of fame , From vales where Avon winds , the Minstrel * came . Light - hearted youth ! aye , as he hastes along , He meditates the future song , How dauntless Ella ...
الصفحة 18
... cold venom in a dead Man's ear ? " Twas thine to feel the sympathetic glow In Merit's joy , and Poverty's meek woe ; Thine all that cheer the moment as it flies , The zoneless Cares , and smiling Courtesies . Nursed in thy heart the ...
... cold venom in a dead Man's ear ? " Twas thine to feel the sympathetic glow In Merit's joy , and Poverty's meek woe ; Thine all that cheer the moment as it flies , The zoneless Cares , and smiling Courtesies . Nursed in thy heart the ...
الصفحة 25
... - thatch'd cot Waked by the wintry night - storm , wet and cold , Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby ! Rest awhile Bent , etc. - Habakkuk . quadruped . Children of Wretchedness ! More groans must rise . More D 25 JUVENILE POEMS . 15.
... - thatch'd cot Waked by the wintry night - storm , wet and cold , Cow'rst o'er thy screaming baby ! Rest awhile Bent , etc. - Habakkuk . quadruped . Children of Wretchedness ! More groans must rise . More D 25 JUVENILE POEMS . 15.
الصفحة 28
... cold season , when the Rustic's eye From the drear desolate whiteness of his fields Rolls for relief to watch the skiey tints And clouds slow varying their huge imagery ; When now , as she was wont , the healthful Maid Had left her ...
... cold season , when the Rustic's eye From the drear desolate whiteness of his fields Rolls for relief to watch the skiey tints And clouds slow varying their huge imagery ; When now , as she was wont , the healthful Maid Had left her ...
الصفحة 43
... cold , nor stern , my soul ! yet I detest These scented Rooms , where , to a gaudy throng , Heaves the proud Harlot her distended breast , In intricacies of laborious song . These feel not Music's genuine power , nor deign To melt at ...
... cold , nor stern , my soul ! yet I detest These scented Rooms , where , to a gaudy throng , Heaves the proud Harlot her distended breast , In intricacies of laborious song . These feel not Music's genuine power , nor deign To melt at ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
AHASUERUS ALHADRA ALVAR arms art thou BATHORY BEATRICE beneath BETHLEN blood breath bright BUTLER calm cavern CENCI child clouds COUNTESS curse CYCLOPS CYPRIAN DÆMON dare dark dead dear death deep DEMOGORGON doth dream earth Egra EMERICK eyes fair faith father fear feel flowers gaze gentle GLYCINE hast hath hear heard heart Heaven hope hour human ILLO ISIDORE ISOLANI lady LASKA light lips living look look'd Lord MEPHISTOPHELES mighty moon mother mountains never night o'er OCTAVIO ORDONIO pale PANTHEA poison'd PROMETHEUS QUESTENBERG RAAB KIUPRILI Robespierre round SAROLTA SCENE seem'd SEMICHORUS shadow silent SILENUS slaves sleep smile song soul sound speak spirit stars strange stream sweet tears tempest TERESA TERTSKY thee THEKLA thine things thou art thought throne truth Twas tyrant VALDEZ voice WALLENSTEIN waves weep wild wind wings words
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 458 - I bear light shades for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 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 1 dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
الصفحة 460 - 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.
الصفحة 72 - But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made ; Its path was not upon the sea In ripple or in shade.
الصفحة 459 - I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured bow; The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, While the moist earth was laughing below.
الصفحة 75 - There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
الصفحة 459 - 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 ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer...
الصفحة 453 - So sweet, the sense faints picturing them ! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves...
الصفحة 453 - ODE TO THE WEST WIND O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow...
الصفحة 460 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields or waves or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be; Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee; Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
الصفحة 459 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings. And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea...