The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe ShelleyH. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1909 - 912 páginas |
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Página 3
... thine The flame to seize , the veil to rend , Where the vast snake Eternity In charmed sleep doth ever lie . All that inspires thy voice of love , Or speaks in thy unclosing eyes , Or through thy frame doth burn or move , Or think or ...
... thine The flame to seize , the veil to rend , Where the vast snake Eternity In charmed sleep doth ever lie . All that inspires thy voice of love , Or speaks in thy unclosing eyes , Or through thy frame doth burn or move , Or think or ...
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... thine own , With all the fear and all the hope they bring . My spells are past : the present now recurs . 520 525 Ah me ! a pathless wilderness remains Yet unsubdued by man's reclaiming hand . Yet , human Spirit , bravely hold thy ...
... thine own , With all the fear and all the hope they bring . My spells are past : the present now recurs . 520 525 Ah me ! a pathless wilderness remains Yet unsubdued by man's reclaiming hand . Yet , human Spirit , bravely hold thy ...
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... Thine is the hand whose piety would soothe The thorny pillow of unhappy crime , Whose impotence an easy pardon gains , Watching its wanderings as a friend's disease : Thine is the brow whose mildness would defy Its fiercest rage , and ...
... Thine is the hand whose piety would soothe The thorny pillow of unhappy crime , Whose impotence an easy pardon gains , Watching its wanderings as a friend's disease : Thine is the brow whose mildness would defy Its fiercest rage , and ...
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... thine , by forcing some lone ghost Thy messenger , to render up the tale Of what we are . In lone and silent hours , When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness , Like an inspired and desperate alchymist Staking his very life on ...
... thine , by forcing some lone ghost Thy messenger , to render up the tale Of what we are . In lone and silent hours , When night makes a weird sound of its own stillness , Like an inspired and desperate alchymist Staking his very life on ...
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... thine home , Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine , and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy . And what am I that I should linger here , With voice far sweeter than thy dying notes ...
... thine home , Where thy sweet mate will twine her downy neck With thine , and welcome thy return with eyes Bright in the lustre of their own fond joy . And what am I that I should linger here , With voice far sweeter than thy dying notes ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Ahasuerus art thou beams beasts Beatrice beautiful beneath blood Bodleian Library Boscombe breath bright calm cave Cenci child Chorus clouds cold Cyclops Daemon dark dead death deep delight Demogorgon dream earth editio princeps eternal eyes faint fear fire fled flowers FRAGMENT gentle golden grave green heart Heaven hope human Iona King Laon Leigh Hunt light lips living look Lucretia Mahmud Mammon Mephistopheles mighty mind moon morning mortal mountains never night o'er ocean Orsino pale Panthea Peter Bell Pisa Posthumous Poems Prometheus Prometheus Unbound Published Purganax Relics of Shelley Rossetti round ruin sate Semichorus shadow Shelley's silent Silenus slaves sleep smile song soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet Swellfoot swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne transcript Trelawny truth tyrant veil voice wandering waves weep wild wind wings
Pasajes populares
Página 571 - 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 Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)...
Página 593 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade 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 I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Página 594 - May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees, When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high, Are each paved with the moon and these.
Página 593 - 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 beneath...
Página 572 - Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
Página 572 - The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings...
Página 594 - I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air...
Página 572 - Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Página 572 - 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...
Página 568 - AN old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king ; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn — mud from a muddy spring ; Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know.