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Ęschylus Ahasuerus art thou beams beasts Beatrice beautiful beneath blood breath bright calm Cenci child clouds cold crime curse dare dark dead death deep DEMOGORGON doth dread dream earth eternal evil eyes fair fear feel fire flame flowers gaze gentle grave hair hate hear heard heart heaven hell hope human Iona Italy Laon light lips living lone looks Lucretia MAMMON Marzio mighty mind misery moon mountains nature never night nursling o'er ocean Orsino pain pale PANTHEA passion Peter Peter Bell poem PROMEThe Prometheus PURGANAx Queen Mab Revolt of Islam round ruin sate scorn SEMichorus shadow shapes Shelley silent slaves sleep smile soul sound speak spirit stars strange stream sweet swift tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought throne toil truth tyrant voice wandering waves weep whilst wild wind wings WOICE words
Page 258 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
Page 257 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Page 297 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright; I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me — who knows how?
Page 290 - Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me ? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side ? Wouldst thou me ? And I replied, No, not thee...
Page 257 - Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine...
Page 287 - Now thou art dead, as if it were a part Of thee, my Adonais! I would give All that I am to be as thou now art! But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart!
Page 258 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine- own kind ? what ignorance of pain...
Page 289 - Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned Its charge to each; and if the seal is set, Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, Break it not thou!
Page 258 - All the earth and air with thy voice is loud, as when night is bare, from one lonely cloud the moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not: what is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not drops so bright to see, as from thy presence showers a rain of melody.