The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One VolumeJohn Grigg, 1831 - Всего страниц: 607 |
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Стр. 22
... deep . Dark reddening from the channell❜d Isle * ( Where stands one solitary pile Unslated by the blast ) The Watch - fire , like a sullen star Twinkles to many a dozing Tar Rude cradled on the mast . Even there - beneath that light ...
... deep . Dark reddening from the channell❜d Isle * ( Where stands one solitary pile Unslated by the blast ) The Watch - fire , like a sullen star Twinkles to many a dozing Tar Rude cradled on the mast . Even there - beneath that light ...
Стр. 27
... deep preluding strain have pour'd To the Great Father , only Rightful King , Eternal Father ! King Omnipotent ! And what if some rebellious , o'er dark realms Arrogate power ? yet these train up to God , And on the rude eye , unconfirm ...
... deep preluding strain have pour'd To the Great Father , only Rightful King , Eternal Father ! King Omnipotent ! And what if some rebellious , o'er dark realms Arrogate power ? yet these train up to God , And on the rude eye , unconfirm ...
Стр. 32
... Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude , Whose locks with wreaths , whose wreaths with glories shone . Then , his eye wild ardors glancing , From the choired Gods advancing , The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet , And stood up ...
... Deep silence o'er the ethereal multitude , Whose locks with wreaths , whose wreaths with glories shone . Then , his eye wild ardors glancing , From the choired Gods advancing , The Spirit of the Earth made reverence meet , And stood up ...
Стр. 33
... deep sabbath of meek self - content ; Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim God's Image , sister of the Seraphim . FRANCE . AN ODE . I. YE Clouds ! that far above me float and pause , Whose pathless march no mortal may control ...
... deep sabbath of meek self - content ; Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim God's Image , sister of the Seraphim . FRANCE . AN ODE . I. YE Clouds ! that far above me float and pause , Whose pathless march no mortal may control ...
Стр. 39
... deep , the low , the pleading tone With which I sung another's love , Interpreted my own . She listen'd with a flitting blush ; With downcast eyes , and modest grace ; And she forgave me , that I gazed Too fondly on her face ! But when ...
... deep , the low , the pleading tone With which I sung another's love , Interpreted my own . She listen'd with a flitting blush ; With downcast eyes , and modest grace ; And she forgave me , that I gazed Too fondly on her face ! But when ...
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The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume Samuel Taylor Coleridge Недоступно для просмотра - 2012 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
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
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Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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...