The Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley, 2. kötetT. C. Newby, 1847 |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 33 találatból.
2. oldal
... called herself , and from her I gained the desired intelligence , and the next day Shelley came to my hotel , the Trè Donzelle . It was nearly seven years since we had parted , but I should immediately have recognised him in a crowd ...
... called herself , and from her I gained the desired intelligence , and the next day Shelley came to my hotel , the Trè Donzelle . It was nearly seven years since we had parted , but I should immediately have recognised him in a crowd ...
22. oldal
... called them after they were gone . Famine , of grief can get the mastery . This translation I shewed afterwards to By- ron , and remember his saying , that he inter- preted the last words , Piu che dolor potè il diguiunó to mean ( an ...
... called them after they were gone . Famine , of grief can get the mastery . This translation I shewed afterwards to By- ron , and remember his saying , that he inter- preted the last words , Piu che dolor potè il diguiunó to mean ( an ...
24. oldal
... called , if you will , an ignis fatuus of the imagination , and was ob- jected to by Mrs. Shelley as such , -a censure that hurt Shelley , and called forth his lines to her , in which he compares it with Peter Bell , which ac- cording ...
... called , if you will , an ignis fatuus of the imagination , and was ob- jected to by Mrs. Shelley as such , -a censure that hurt Shelley , and called forth his lines to her , in which he compares it with Peter Bell , which ac- cording ...
29. oldal
... called Ionian ; I am called Ion , which by interpretation Is John LIFE OF SHELLEY . 29.
... called Ionian ; I am called Ion , which by interpretation Is John LIFE OF SHELLEY . 29.
30. oldal
Thomas Medwin. I am called Ion , which by interpretation Is John , -in plain Theban , that is to say , I am John Bull . The Green Bag is most happily hit off , and the Chorusses are very fine ... called Ion, which by interpretation ...
Thomas Medwin. I am called Ion , which by interpretation Is John , -in plain Theban , that is to say , I am John Bull . The Green Bag is most happily hit off , and the Chorusses are very fine ... called Ion, which by interpretation ...
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admired amore appeared Atheism auto da fé beautiful boat buona Byron says called canto Casti child Conversations Countess Guiccioli Dante death delight divine Divine Comedy Don Juan drama Emilia eyes fame Faust fear feel flowers genius Genoa Göthe grave Greek heard heart Hobhouse Horace Smith hour human Hunt's idea imagination Italian Italy Keats Keats's lady language leave Leghorn Leigh Hunt Lerici less letter ley's light lived looked Lord Byron Lucca melancholy memory ment mind Moore Moore's never night noble notte opinion passage passion perhaps Pisa Plato poem poet poetry pyre Queen Mab Ravenna render Revolt of Islam Rogers Rome sail scarcely scene seems Serchio Shakspeare Shel Shelley says Shelley's shewed sleep soon soul speaking spirit stanza strange tears thee things thou thought tion told translation verses Via Reggio Williams words writing written wrote
Népszerű szakaszok
113. oldal - A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift — A Love in desolation masked ; — a Power Girt round with weakness ; — it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow ; — even whilst we speak Is it not broken?
318. oldal - Or sculpture, speak in feeble imagery Their own cold powers. Art and eloquence, And all the shows o' the world, are frail and vain To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade. It is a woe 'too deep for tears' when all Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit, Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves Those who remain behind, not sobs or groans, The passionate tumult of a clinging hope, — But pale despair and cold tranquillity, Nature's vast frame, the web of human things, Birth and...
183. oldal - Nor mix with Laian rage the joy Which dawns upon the free : Although a subtler Sphinx renew Riddles of death Thebes never knew. Another Athens shall arise, And to remoter time Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, The splendour of its prime ; And leave, if nought so bright may live, All earth can take or Heaven can give.
334. oldal - That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
173. oldal - Most musical of mourners, weep again! Lament anew, Urania! — He died, Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride The priest, the slave, and the liberticide Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified, Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.
321. oldal - And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
325. oldal - Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.
183. oldal - Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. A loftier Argo cleaves the main, Fraught with a later prize ; Another Orpheus sings again, And loves, and weeps, and dies; A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore.
315. oldal - Go thou to Rome, — at once the Paradise, The grave, the city, and the wilderness; And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness, Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
113. oldal - Is it not broken ? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly : on a cheek The life can burn in blood even while the heart may break.