The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One VolumeJohn Grigg, 1831 - Всего страниц: 607 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 11 – 15 из 100
Стр. 47
... Hope , Bright flower of Hope kill'd in the opening bud ? Farewell , sweet blossom ! better fate be thine , And mock my boding ! Dim similitudes Weaving in moral strains , I've stolen one hour From anxious SELF , Life's cruel Task ...
... Hope , Bright flower of Hope kill'd in the opening bud ? Farewell , sweet blossom ! better fate be thine , And mock my boding ! Dim similitudes Weaving in moral strains , I've stolen one hour From anxious SELF , Life's cruel Task ...
Стр. 51
... Hope afflicted and struck down , So summon'd homeward , thenceforth calm and sure , From the dread watch - tower of ... Hope ; And Hope that scarce would know itself from Fear , Sense of past Youth , and Manhood come in vain , And Genius ...
... Hope afflicted and struck down , So summon'd homeward , thenceforth calm and sure , From the dread watch - tower of ... Hope ; And Hope that scarce would know itself from Fear , Sense of past Youth , and Manhood come in vain , And Genius ...
Стр. 59
... hope grew round me , like the twining vine , And fruits , and foliage , not my own , seem'd mine . But now afflictions bow me down to earth : Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth . But oh ! each visitation Suspends what nature gave ...
... hope grew round me , like the twining vine , And fruits , and foliage , not my own , seem'd mine . But now afflictions bow me down to earth : Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth . But oh ! each visitation Suspends what nature gave ...
Стр. 83
... Hope that nursed it ; the sick babe Droop'd at the bosom of its famish'd mother . But ( more than all ) Teresa's perfidy ; The assassin's strong assurance , when no interest , No motive could have tempted him to falsehood : In the first ...
... Hope that nursed it ; the sick babe Droop'd at the bosom of its famish'd mother . But ( more than all ) Teresa's perfidy ; The assassin's strong assurance , when no interest , No motive could have tempted him to falsehood : In the first ...
Стр. 85
... hope survives- VALDEZ ( looking forward ) . Hush ! ' tis Monviedro . TERESA The Inquisitor ! on what new scent of blood ? Enter MONVIEDRO with ALHADRA . MONVIEDRO ( having first made his obeisance to VALDEZ and TERESA ) . Peace and the ...
... hope survives- VALDEZ ( looking forward ) . Hush ! ' tis Monviedro . TERESA The Inquisitor ! on what new scent of blood ? Enter MONVIEDRO with ALHADRA . MONVIEDRO ( having first made his obeisance to VALDEZ and TERESA ) . Peace and the ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
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
Популярные отрывки
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...