Hellas: A Lyrical Drama

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Shelley Society, 1886 - 60 pages
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Page 12 - Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away. But they are still immortal Who, through birth's orient portal And death's dark chasm hurrying to and fro, Clothe their unceasing flight In the brief dust and light Gathered around their chariots as they go...
Page 52 - Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. A loftier Argo cleaves the main, Fraught with a later prize ; Another Orpheus sings again, And loves, and weeps, and dies; A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore.
Page 51 - 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.
Page 13 - A power from the unknown God, A Promethean conqueror, came ; Like a triumphal path he trod The thorns of death and shame.
Page 51 - Through the sunset of hope, Like the shapes of a dream, What Paradise islands of glory gleam Beneath Heaven's cope. Their shadows more clear float by — The sound of their oceans, the light of their sky, The music and fragrance their solitudes breathe, Burst like morning on...
Page 38 - Atlantic clouds — this Whole Of suns, and worlds, and men, and beasts, and flowers, With all the silent or tempestuous workings By which they have been, are, or ceased to be, Is but a vision ; — all that it inherits Are motes of a sick eye, bubbles and dreams ; Thought is its cradle and its grave...
Page 35 - But Greece and her foundations are Built below the tide of war, Based on the crystalline sea Of thought and its eternity; Her citizens, imperial spirits, Rule the present from the past, On all this world of men inherits Their seal is set.
Page 60 - Till by the spirit of the mighty dead My heart grew warm. I feed on whom I fed " Ay, alive and still bold," muttered Earth, " Napoleon's fierce spirit rolled, In terror, and blood, and gold, A torrent of ruin to death from his birth.
Page 53 - Oh, cease ! must hate and death return ? Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last ! NOTES 'The quenchless ashes of Milan
Page 14 - Swift as the radiant shapes of sleep From one whose dreams are paradise, Fly, when the fond wretch wakes to weep, And day peers forth with her blank eyes ; So fleet, so faint, so fair, The Powers of earth and air Fled from the folding star of Bethlehem : Apollo, Pan, and Love, And even Olympian Jove Grew weak, for killing Truth had glared on them. Our hills, and seas, and streams, Dispeopled of their dreams, Their waters turned to blood, their dew to tears, Wailed for the golden years.

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