The word repipagebidion may be understood an frem from the soul: _ W. M. Rosette.
meaning Shelly translatie his totte in the line - "Whither two flee this mout not of my soul" ; and the word repipgebidion in comed by him to exprese the idea of that live. It might incer which in places ma sal", as if to complete
SWEET Spirit! sister of that orphan one,
Whose empire is the name thou weepest on, Cemile an epiritual
In my heart's temple I suspend to thee These votive wreaths of withered memory.
sister; is Man, Shel
bey, when wurther
'hame in Shelley's R. Garnett.
Poor captive bird! who, from thy narrow cage, Pourest such music, that it might assuage her britt: the The rugged hearts of those who prisoned thee, who Were they not deaf to all sweet melody; This song shall be thy rose: its petals pale Are dead, indeed, my adorèd nightingale! But soft and fragrant is the faded blossom, And it has no thorn left to wound thy bosom.
High, spirit-winged Heart! who dost for ever Beat thine unfeeling bars with vain endeavour, Till those bright plumes of thought, in which arrayed
It over-soared this low and worldly shade, Lie shattered; and thy panting wounded breast. Stains with dear blood its unmaternal nest! I weep vain tears: blood would less bitter be, Yet poured forth gladlier, could it profit thee.
Seraph of Heaven! too gentle to be human, Veiling beneath that radiant form of woman
it. Or it might be, and how to be a dimuintira
of endearment, from reprisezehe. 351-40x5. Sant épipagehe repayee, in the
There is no such Greek word at
kodd decar a soul repon a soul", part Pholenie
astronomy, meant a inde apera a cicle? Such a
"soul on a soul" might be paraphrace.
complement of, or exposive to, another soul" is to the au ofiw
of the fact, so that each soul seeks to be united with that where with it has been created. _ Stoffend A. Berr
All that is insupportable in thee Of light, and love, and immortality; Sweet Benediction in the eternal Curse; Veiled glory of this lampless Universe;
Thou Moon beyond the clouds; thou living Form
Among the dead; thou Star above the Storm; Thou Wonder, and thou Beauty, and thou Ter-
Thou Harmony of Nature's art; thou Mirror In whom, as in the splendour of the Sun, All shapes look glorious which thou gazest on! Ay, even the dim words which obscure thee now Flash, lightning-like, with unaccustomed glow; I pray thee that thou blot from this sad song All of its much mortality and wrong,
With those clear drops, which start like sacred
From the twin lights thy sweet soul darkens through,
Weeping, till sorrow becomes ecstasy : Then smile on it, so that it may not die.
I never thought before my death to see Youth's vision thus made perfect: Emily, I love thee; though the world by no thin name Will hide that love from its unvalued shame. Would we two had been twins of the same mo
Or, that the name my heart lent to another
Could be a sister's bond for her and thee, Blending two beams of one eternity!
Yet were one lawful and the other true,
These names, though dear, could paint not, as is due,
How beyond refuge I am thine. Ah me!
I am not thine: I am a part of thee.
Sweet Lamp! my moth-like muse has burnt its wings,
Or, like a dying swan who soars and sings, Young Love should teach Time, in his own gray style,
All that thou art. Art thou not void of guile,
A lovely soul formed to be blest and bless ?
A well of sealed and secret happiness, Whose waters like blithe light and music are, Vanquishing dissonance and gloom? a star Which moves not in the moving Heavens, alone? A smile amid dark frowns? a gentle tone Amid rude voices? a beloved light?
A solitude, a refuge, a delight?
A lute, which those whom love has taught to play Make music on, to soothe the roughest day And lull fond grief asleep? a buried treasure? A cradle of young thoughts of wingless pleasure ? A violet-shrouded grave of woe?-I measure The world of fancies, seeking one like thee, And find-alas! mine own infirmity.
She met me, Stranger, upon life's rough way, And lured me towards sweet death; as Night by
Winter by Spring, or Sorrow by swift Hope, Led into light, life, peace. An antelope, In the suspended impulse of its lightness, Were less ethereally light; the brightness Of her divinest presence trembles through Her limbs, as underneath a cloud of dew Embodied in the windless heaven of June, Amid the splendour-winged stars, the Moon Burns inextinguishably beautiful;
And from her lips, as from a hyacinth full Of honey-dew, a liquid murmur drops, Killing the sense with passion, sweet as stops Of planetary music heard in trance. In her mild lights the starry spirits dance, The sunbeams of those wells which ever leap Under the lightnings of the soul-too deep For the brief fathom-line of thought or sense. The glory of her being issuing thence,
Stains the dead, blank, cold air with a warm
Of unentangled intermixture, made
By Love, of light and motion; one intense Diffusion, one serene omnipresence,
Whose flowing outlines mingle in their flowing Around her cheeks and utmost fingers glowing With the unintermitted blood, which there Quivers as in a fleece of snow-like air
The crimson pulse of living morning quiver,Continuously prolonged, and ending never
Till they are lost, and in that Beauty furled Which penetrates and clasps and fills the world; Scarce visible from extreme loveliness. [dress, Warm fragrance seems to fall from her light And her loose hair; and where some heavy tress The air of her own speed has disentwined, The sweetness seems to satiate the faint wind; And in the soul a wild odour is felt,
Beyond the sense, like fiery dews that melt Into the bosom of a frozen bud.
See where she stands! a mortal shape indued With love and life and light and deity, And motion which may change but cannot die; An image of some bright Eternity;
A shadow of some golden dream; a splendor Leaving the third sphere pilotless; a tender Reflection of the eternal Moon of Love, Under whose motions life's dull billows move; A metaphor of Spring and Youth and Morning; A vision like incarnate April, warning,
With smiles and tears, Frost the anatomy Into his summer grave.
What have I dared? where am I lifted? how Shall I descend, and perish not? I know That Love makes all things equal; I have heard By mine own heart this joyous truth averred:
« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια » |