The Works of Matthew Arnold, Volumen2Macmillan, 1903 |
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Página 18
... quits again . I knew it when my life was young ; I feel it still , now youth is o'er . -The mists are on the mountain hung , And Marguerite I shall see no more . THE STRAYED REVELLER THE PORTICO OF CIRCE'S PALACE . EVENING 18 LYRIC POEMS.
... quits again . I knew it when my life was young ; I feel it still , now youth is o'er . -The mists are on the mountain hung , And Marguerite I shall see no more . THE STRAYED REVELLER THE PORTICO OF CIRCE'S PALACE . EVENING 18 LYRIC POEMS.
Página 22
... young , languid - eyed Ampelus , Iacchus ' darling- Or some youth beloved of Pan , Of Pan and the Nymphs ? That he sits , bending downward His white , delicate neck To the ivy - wreathed marge Of thy cup ; the bright , glancing vine ...
... young , languid - eyed Ampelus , Iacchus ' darling- Or some youth beloved of Pan , Of Pan and the Nymphs ? That he sits , bending downward His white , delicate neck To the ivy - wreathed marge Of thy cup ; the bright , glancing vine ...
Página 38
... Young , in the bloom of his days ; Leaves no leisure to press , Slow and surely , the sweets Of a tranquil life in the shade- Fuller for him be the hours ! Give him emotion , though pain ! Let him live , let him feel : I have lived ...
... Young , in the bloom of his days ; Leaves no leisure to press , Slow and surely , the sweets Of a tranquil life in the shade- Fuller for him be the hours ! Give him emotion , though pain ! Let him live , let him feel : I have lived ...
Página 59
... young ; It is to add , immured In the hot prison of the present , month To month with weary pain . It is to suffer this , And feel but half , and feebly , what we feel . Deep in our hidden heart Festers the dull remembrance of a change ...
... young ; It is to add , immured In the hot prison of the present , month To month with weary pain . It is to suffer this , And feel but half , and feebly , what we feel . Deep in our hidden heart Festers the dull remembrance of a change ...
Página 75
... young ; Transplants them to another tongue , Where they can now , without constraint , Pour all the soul of their complaint , And roll adown a channel large The wealth divine they have in charge . Page after page of music turn , And ...
... young ; Transplants them to another tongue , Where they can now , without constraint , Pour all the soul of their complaint , And roll adown a channel large The wealth divine they have in charge . Page after page of music turn , And ...
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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!