The British Poets, 第 2 卷Little, Brown & Company, 1865 |
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AHASUERUS art thou ASIA azure BEATRICE beautiful beneath BERNARDO blood breath bright calm CAMILLO canst Caucasus caves CENCI child CHORUS clouds Colonna Palace coursers crime curse Dæmons dare dark dead death deed deep DEMOGORGON despair dread dream earth evil Exeunt eyes father fear fire flowers folding star FURY gentle GIACOMO Greece Greek hair HASSAN hate hear heart heaven Hell hope hour innocent IONE Italy Jupiter kill light live look LUCRETIA MAHMUD MARZIO mighty mind moon mother mountains murdered never night o'er ocean Oceanides OLIMPIO ORSINO pain pale PANTHEA parricide PROMETHEUS PROMETHEUS UNBOUND Revolt of Islam Rome ruin SAVELLA SCENE SEMICHORUS shadow shapes Shelley sister slave sleep smiles soul sound speak spirit strange sweet swift tears thee Thetis thine things thou art thought throne torture trample truth tyrant victory voice wandering wind wings words wouldst
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第 135 頁 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite ; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates
第 337 頁 - 0 cease ! must hate and death return ? Cease ! must men kill and die? Cease ! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, O might it die or rest at last I
第 81 頁 - spibit. On the brink of the night and the morning My coursers are wont to respire ; But the Earth has just whispered a warning That their flight must be swifter than fire: They shall drink the hot speed of desire! Thou breathest on their nostrils, but my breath Would give them swifter speed.
第 109 頁 - We bear the bier Of the father of many a cancelled year! Spectres we Of the dead Hours be; "We bear Time to his tomb in eternity. Wet the dusty pall with tears, not dew ! Be the faded flowers Of Death's bare bowers Spread on the corpse of the King of Hours I
第 120 頁 - When the sun rushes under it; they roll And move and grow as with an inward wind. Within it sits a winged infant, white Its countenance, like the whiteness of bright snow, Its plumes are as feathers of sunny frost, Its limbs gleam white, through the wind-flowing folds Of its white robe, woof of
第 108 頁 - Passionless—no, yet free from guilt or pain, Which were, for his will made or suffered them; Nor yet exempt, though ruling them like slaves, From chance, and death, and mutability, The clogs of that which else might oversoar The loftiest star of unascended heaven, Pinnacled dim in the intense inane. ACT IV. Scene—A part of the Forest near the Cave of
第 34 頁 - He whom some dreadful voice invokes is here, Prometheus, the chained Titan. Horrible forms, What and who are ye ? Never yet there came Phantasms so foul through monster-teeming Hell From the all-miscreative brain of Jove ; Whilst I behold such execrable shapes, Methinks I grow like what I contemplate, And laugh and stare in loathsome sympathy. FIRST
第 269 頁 - My God! Can it be possible I have To die so suddenly ? so young to go Oh, Under the obscure, cold, rotting, wormy ground 1 To be nailed down into a narrow place: To see no more sweet sunshine ; hear no more Blithe voice of living thing ; muse not again
第 131 頁 - 0 gentle Moon, the voice of thy delight Falls on me like thy clear and tender light Soothing the seaman, borne the summer night Through isles for ever calm ; 0 gentle Moon, thy crystal accents pierce The caverns of my pride's deep universe, Charming the tiger joy, whose tramplings fierce Made wounds which need thy balm. PANTHEA.