The poetical works of Edgar Allan Poe with a notice by J. Hannay1853 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 33 筆
第 xvi 頁
... beauty is to me Like those Nicéan barks of yore , That gently , o'er a perfumed sea , The weary , way - worn wanderer bore To his own native shore . On desperate seas long wont to roam , Thy hyacinth xvi THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF.
... beauty is to me Like those Nicéan barks of yore , That gently , o'er a perfumed sea , The weary , way - worn wanderer bore To his own native shore . On desperate seas long wont to roam , Thy hyacinth xvi THE LIFE AND GENIUS OF.
第 xix 頁
... Beauty which he loved with his whole soul , he madly endeavoured to grasp in the forms of sheer indulgence . Like Mar- low's " Faustus , " he used his genius to procure him self - gratification ; and always at the end of EDGAR ALLAN POE ...
... Beauty which he loved with his whole soul , he madly endeavoured to grasp in the forms of sheer indulgence . Like Mar- low's " Faustus , " he used his genius to procure him self - gratification ; and always at the end of EDGAR ALLAN POE ...
第 xx 頁
... Beauty itself , but only to a certain like- ness of it which goes by its name ; and so he does not venerate it , but after the manner of animals striveth after pleasure . " And thus Edgar Poe drew a sensual veil across the vision of his ...
... Beauty itself , but only to a certain like- ness of it which goes by its name ; and so he does not venerate it , but after the manner of animals striveth after pleasure . " And thus Edgar Poe drew a sensual veil across the vision of his ...
第 xxi 頁
... beauty ! Let solid excellence of the epitaph - description remember , that perhaps all its parlour virtues are not worth one hour of Coleridge's remorse ! I have hinted above that it is difficult to get EDGAR ALLAN POE . xxi.
... beauty ! Let solid excellence of the epitaph - description remember , that perhaps all its parlour virtues are not worth one hour of Coleridge's remorse ! I have hinted above that it is difficult to get EDGAR ALLAN POE . xxi.
第 xxix 頁
... beauty - some region where passion has no place , where Music , and moonlight , and feeling , Are one , as Shelley says . Poe loved splendour , he delighted in the gor- geous - in ancient birth - in tropical flowers - in Southern birds ...
... beauty - some region where passion has no place , where Music , and moonlight , and feeling , Are one , as Shelley says . Poe loved splendour , he delighted in the gor- geous - in ancient birth - in tropical flowers - in Southern birds ...
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常見字詞
amid angels Baldazzar beautiful bells bird breath bright Castiglione dark dead death deep died door dream dwell Earth Edgar eyes face fair fall feel fell fire flowers forms friends garden given glory GODWIN golden gone hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven holy hope HULME human Jacinta JAMES lake Lalage late leave Lenore light live lone look maiden melancholy moon mother nature never night o'er once passion poems Politian Raven remember seen shadow sigh Silence skies sleep smile sorrow soul sound speak spirit star strange sure sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thou art thought throne true unto voice waters wave wild wind wing young
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第 6 頁 - Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. 'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore; Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!
第 3 頁 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
第 40 頁 - But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we— Of many far wiser than we— And neither the angels in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
第 7 頁 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken! quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
第 5 頁 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch!
第 7 頁 - thing of evil— prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!
第 5 頁 - But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore.
第 6 頁 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.' 'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
第 xxxii 頁 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
第 xxxii 頁 - And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "* Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.