The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Volume 1General Books, 2013 - 194 lappuses This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1881 edition. Excerpt: ... his own works; the poison-tree Beneath whose shade all life is withered up, And the fair oak whose leafy dome affords A temple where the vows of happy love Are registered, are equal in thy sight. No love, no hate, thou cherishest; revenge, And favouritism, and worst desire of fame, Thou know'st not. All that the wide world contains Are but thy passive instruments, and thou Regard'st them all with an impartial eye: Whose joy or pain thy nature cannot feel, Because thou hast not human sense, Because thou art not human mind. " Yes! when the sweeping storm of time Has sung its death-dirge o'er the ruined fanes And broken altars of the almighty fiend Whose name usurps thy honours, and the blood, Through centuries clotted there, has floated down The tainted flood of ages, shalt thou live Unchangeable! A shrine is raised to thee Which nor the tempest-breath of time, Nor the interminable flood Over earth's slight pageant rolling, Availeth to destroy, --The sensitive extension of the world: That wondrous and eternal fane Where pain and pleasure, good and evil, join To do the will of strong Necessity, --And life in multitudinous shapes, Still pressing forward where no term can be, Like hungry and unresting flame Curls round the eternal columns of its strength." V1L Spirit. I was an infant when my mother went To see an atheist burned. She took me there. The dark-robed priests were met around the pile; The multitude was gazing silently; And, as the culprit passed with dauntless mien, Tempered disdain in his unakering eye, Mixed with a quiet smile, shone calmly forth. The thirsty fire crept round his manly limbs; His resolute eyes were scorched to blindness soon; His death-pang rent my heart. The insensate mob Uttered a cry of triumph, and I wept.... |
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The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley Percy Bysshe Shelley Ierobežota priekšskatīšana - 1935 |