The Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley in Verse and Prose, Now First Brought Together with Many Pieces Not Before Published, Volume 3

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Reeves and Turner, 1880
 

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Page 11 - O, weep for Adonais ! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head ! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say : ' With me Died Adonais ; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity...
Page 30 - 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! too surely shalt thou find Thine own well full, if thou returnest home, Of tears and gall.
Page 26 - tis Death is dead, not he ; Mourn not for Adonais. — Thou young Dawn, Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee The spirit thou lamentest is not gone...
Page 23 - He answered not, but with a sudden hand Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow, Which was like Cain's or Christ's — oh! that it should be so!
Page 28 - And many more, whose names on Earth are dark, But whose transmitted effluence cannot die So long as fire outlives the parent spark, Rose, robed in dazzling immortality. 'Thou art become as one of us...
Page 15 - The shadow of white Death, and at the" door Invisible Corruption waits to trace His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place ; The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface So fair a prey, till darkness and the law Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw.
Page 154 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child. And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear...
Page 159 - All were fat; and well they might Be in admirable plight, For one by one, and two by two, He tossed them human hearts to chew Which from his wide cloak he drew.
Page 14 - In which suns perished. Others more sublime, Struck by the envious wrath of man or God, Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime; And some yet live, treading the thorny road, Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode. VI. But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished, The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, Like a pale flower- by some sad maiden cherished, And fed with true love tears instead of dew.
Page 21 - Flashed through those limbs, so late her dear delight. "Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless, As silent lightning leaves the starless night ! Leave me not!

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