The Wandering Jew: A Poem

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Shelley Society, 1887 - 115 páginas
 

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Página 87 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates...
Página 17 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Página 86 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given...
Página 114 - 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...
Página 115 - The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
Página 1 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is Hell ; myself am Hell ; And in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
Página 114 - 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.
Página 75 - Shakspeare, new elucidations of their own human being ; ' new harmonies with the ' infinite structure of the Universe ; concurrences with later ideas, ' affinities with the higher powers and senses of man.
Página 27 - Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shone Above them all the arch-angel...
Página 77 - Thus, while it is true on one level of mind that there is nothing in the intellect that was not first in the senses, it is not necessarily true for both levels.

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