The poetical works of S.T. Coleridge, including the dramas of Wallenstein, Remorse, and Zapolya, 2. kötet

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4. oldal - The sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon—" The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon.
15. oldal - We listened and looked sideways up! Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seemed to sip! The stars were dim, and thick the night, The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white; From the sails the dew did drip) — Till clomb above the eastern bar The horned Moon, with one bright star Within the nether tip.
38. oldal - He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small ; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
22. oldal - The upper air burst into life ! And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about ! And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between.
26. oldal - Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.
19. oldal - In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the Stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.
21. oldal - My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light — almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.
8. oldal - And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe : For all averred, I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow.
10. oldal - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot; O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea!
29. oldal - Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.

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