The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume |
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Стр. 22
( Foul her life , and dark her doom ) No stronger agony confounds Mighty armies
of the dead The Soldier on the war - field spread , Dance like death - fires round
her tomb ! When all foredone with toil and wounds , Then with prophetic song ...
( Foul her life , and dark her doom ) No stronger agony confounds Mighty armies
of the dead The Soldier on the war - field spread , Dance like death - fires round
her tomb ! When all foredone with toil and wounds , Then with prophetic song ...
Стр. 33
Makes the cock shrilly on the rain - storm crow , To hear thee sing some ballad
full of woe , Soft the glances of the youth , Ballad of shipwreck'd sailor floating
dead , Soft his speech , and soft his sigh ; Whom his own true - love buried in the
...
Makes the cock shrilly on the rain - storm crow , To hear thee sing some ballad
full of woe , Soft the glances of the youth , Ballad of shipwreck'd sailor floating
dead , Soft his speech , and soft his sigh ; Whom his own true - love buried in the
...
Стр. 62
Four times fifty living men His shipmates lows : for can it be Hither to work us weal
; ( And I heard nor sigh nor groan ) , drop down dead a ship , that comes onward
without Without a breeze , without a tide , With heavy thump , a lifeless lump ...
Four times fifty living men His shipmates lows : for can it be Hither to work us weal
; ( And I heard nor sigh nor groan ) , drop down dead a ship , that comes onward
without Without a breeze , without a tide , With heavy thump , a lifeless lump ...
Стр. 63
But oh ! more horrible than that And soon I heard a roaring wind : He heareth Is a
curse in a dead man's eye ! It did not come anear ; sounds and goeth strange
sights Seven days , seven nights , I saw that But with its sound it shook the sails ...
But oh ! more horrible than that And soon I heard a roaring wind : He heareth Is a
curse in a dead man's eye ! It did not come anear ; sounds and goeth strange
sights Seven days , seven nights , I saw that But with its sound it shook the sails ...
Стр. 65
The angelic spir- Till , rising from the same , its leave the Full many shapes that
shadows were , Unless perchance it were I never saw aught like to them , dead
bodies , In crimson colors came . And appear in A little distance from the prow ...
The angelic spir- Till , rising from the same , its leave the Full many shapes that
shadows were , Unless perchance it were I never saw aught like to them , dead
bodies , In crimson colors came . And appear in A little distance from the prow ...
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The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume Samuel Taylor Coleridge Недоступно для просмотра - 2012 |
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arms beautiful beneath blood breath bright BUTLER calm child clouds cold comes COUNTESS dare dark dead dear death deep dream earth Enter eyes fair faith fall father fear feel fire flowers follow gentle give green hand hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven hope hour human lady leaves light lips living look Lord mind moon morning mother mountains move nature never night o'er OCTAVIO once pain pale pass past peace poor rest round SCENE shadow shape silent sleep smile soon soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood strange stream sweet tears tell TERTSKY thee thine things thou thought truth voice WALLENSTEIN wandering waves wide wild wind wings young youth
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Стр. 210 - 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.
Стр. 212 - 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.
Стр. 62 - 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.
Стр. 211 - 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.
Стр. 65 - 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.
Стр. 211 - 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...
Стр. 205 - 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...
Стр. 205 - 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...
Стр. 212 - 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.
Стр. 211 - 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...
Библиографические данные
| Название | The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume |
| Автор | Samuel Taylor Coleridge |
| Издатель | John Grigg, 1831 |
| Владелец оригинала: | Нью-Йоркская публичная библиотека |
| Оцифровано | 2 янв 2007 |
| Количество страниц | Всего страниц: 607 |
| Экспорт цитаты | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |