The Works of Matthew Arnold, Volumen2Macmillan, 1903 |
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Página viii
... POEMS MEROPE , A TRAGEDY EMPEDOCLES ON ETNA PAGE 137 245 LATER POEMS WESTMINSTER ABBEY 297 GEIST'S GRAVE . 305 POOR MATTHIAS • 309 KAISER DEAD . 317 NOTES 323 LYRIC POEMS VOL . II B SWITZERLAND 1. MEETING AGAIN viii CONTENTS.
... POEMS MEROPE , A TRAGEDY EMPEDOCLES ON ETNA PAGE 137 245 LATER POEMS WESTMINSTER ABBEY 297 GEIST'S GRAVE . 305 POOR MATTHIAS • 309 KAISER DEAD . 317 NOTES 323 LYRIC POEMS VOL . II B SWITZERLAND 1. MEETING AGAIN viii CONTENTS.
Página 17
... dead ? — Dead ! —and no warning shiver ran Across my heart , to say thy thread Of life was cut , and closed thy span ! Could from earth's ways that figure slight Be lost , and I not feel ' twas so ? Of that fresh voice the gay delight ...
... dead ? — Dead ! —and no warning shiver ran Across my heart , to say thy thread Of life was cut , and closed thy span ! Could from earth's ways that figure slight Be lost , and I not feel ' twas so ? Of that fresh voice the gay delight ...
Página 33
... dead , ignorant , thankless corpse . The Chorus Nor was the love untrue Which the Dawn - Goddess bore To that fair youth she erst , Leaving the salt sea - beds And coming flush'd over the stormy frith Of loud Euripus , saw- Saw and ...
... dead , ignorant , thankless corpse . The Chorus Nor was the love untrue Which the Dawn - Goddess bore To that fair youth she erst , Leaving the salt sea - beds And coming flush'd over the stormy frith Of loud Euripus , saw- Saw and ...
Página 48
... Dead to its deep habitual smart , And dead to hopes of future joy . 2. TOO LATE EACH on his own strict line we move , And some find death ere they find love ; So far apart their lives are thrown From the twin soul which halves their own ...
... Dead to its deep habitual smart , And dead to hopes of future joy . 2. TOO LATE EACH on his own strict line we move , And some find death ere they find love ; So far apart their lives are thrown From the twin soul which halves their own ...
Página 49
... Dead be the past and its phantoms to me ! Then , when we meet , and thy look strays toward me , Scanning my face and the changes wrought there : Who , let me say , is this stranger regards me , With the grey eyes , and the lovely brown ...
... Dead be the past and its phantoms to me ! Then , when we meet , and thy look strays toward me , Scanning my face and the changes wrought there : Who , let me say , is this stranger regards me , With the grey eyes , and the lovely brown ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Æpytus Arcadian Arcas Argos Aristodemus Aristomachus arms Behold blood blow breast breath bright bring Callicles Callisto calm child Chorus comes Cresphontes Cypselus dare dark dead death deed deep divine Dorian Dorian lords dost doth earth Echemus Empedocles Epytus Etna Eurystheus eyes fair Fate father fear feel gloom glow Gods grave hand hate hath hear heard heart Heaven Heracleida Heracles hills Hyllus Iacchus king Laias light live look'd Melanthus Merope Thou Messenian mind mother mountain murder night o'er once pain palace pass'd Pausanias peace Pelasgus Pelops plain Polyphontes prince Queen race seem'd sleep smile soul spring stand stars stream strife sweet Tegea Temenus Thebes thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne thyself tomb vengeance voice wilt wind word youth Zeus
Pasajes populares
Página 102 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return, All we have built do we discern.
Página 39 - That wild, unquench d, deep-sunken, old-world pain — Say, will it never heal ? And can this fragrant lawn With its cool trees, and night, And the sweet, tranquil Thames, And moonshine, and the dew, To thy rack'd heart and brain Afford no balm ? Dost thou to-night behold, Here, through the moonlight on this English grass...
Página 59 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world. Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant...
Página 28 - They see the Centaurs On Pelion: — then they feel, They too, the maddening wine Swell their large veins to bursting: in wild pain They feel the biting spears Of the grim...
Página 276 - Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills ; and there The sunshine in the happy glens is fair, And by the sea, and in the brakes. The grass is cool, the sea-side air Buoyant and fresh, the mountain flowers More virginal and sweet than ours.
Página 39 - PHILOMELA HARK ! ah, the Nightingale ! The tawny-throated ! Hark ! from that moonlit cedar what a burst ! What triumph ! hark — what pain ! O Wanderer from a Grecian shore, Still, after many years, in distant lands, Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain—- Say, will it never heal...
Página 58 - Sophocles long ago Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow Of human misery; we Find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
Página 100 - WEARY of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. And a look of passionate desire O'er the sea and to the stars I send : ' Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me, Calm me, ah, compose me to the end ! * Ah, once more...
Página 58 - DOVER BEACH THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits ; — on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone ; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Página 59 - The sea of faith Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd. But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating to the breath Of the night-wind down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world, To one another!