The Complete Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne: Prose works

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W. Heinemann Limited, 1926
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Page 139 - Give salutation to my sportive blood ? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Which in their wills count bad what I think good ? No, — I am that I am ; and they that level At my abuses, reckon up their own : I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel ; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown ; Unless this general evil they maintain, All men are bad and in their badness reign.
Page 73 - Is it so small a thing To have enjoyed the sun, To have lived light in the spring, To have loved, to have thought, to have done To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes, — That we must feign a bliss Of doubtful future date, And. while we dream on this, Lose all our present state, And relegate to worlds yet distant our repose...
Page 263 - Dirce Stand close around, ye Stygian set, With Dirce in one boat conveyed, Or Charon, seeing, may forget That he is old, and she a shade.
Page 112 - Thou comest to me with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.
Page 285 - Come hither, boy : if ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me ; For such as I am all true lovers are, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the constant image of the creature That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune ? Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is throned.
Page 283 - Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake ; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give — and take!
Page 264 - O, who ever felt as I? No longer could I doubt him true— All other men may use deceit. He always said my eyes were blue, And often swore my lips were sweet.
Page 10 - ... hear the flood-tides seek the sea. And deep in both our hearts they rouse One wail for thee and me. A little while a little love May yet be ours who have not said The word it makes our eyes afraid To know that each is thinking of. Not yet the end: be our lips dumb In smiles a little season yet: I'll tell thee, when the end is come, How we may best forget.
Page 115 - Not here, O Apollo! Are haunts meet for thee. But, where Helicon breaks down In cliff to the sea, Where the moon-silver'd inlets Send far their light voice Up the still vale of Thisbe, O speed, and rejoice! On the sward at the cliff-top Lie strewn the white flocks, On the cliff-side the pigeons Roost deep in the rocks. In the moonlight the shepherds, Soft...
Page 423 - Therefore sprang there even of one, and him as good as dead, so many as the stars of the sky in multitude, and as the sand which is by the sea shore innumerable.

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