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Seite 349 - To Helen. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Seite 319 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Seite 319 - Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. His wit all seesaw, between that and this, Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himself one vile antithesis.
Seite 313 - Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot. ' With every pleasing, every prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want ?' — She wants a heart. She speaks, behaves, and acts, just as she ought, But never, never reach'd one generous thought.
Seite 508 - The gray sea and the long black land ; And the yellow half-moon large and low ; And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed i
Seite 507 - But he looked upon the city, every side, Far and wide, All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades' Colonnades, All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts, - and then, All the men!
Seite 238 - AH, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems and new...
Seite 313 - She, while her lover pants upon her breast, Can mark the figures on an Indian chest ; And when she sees her friend in deep despair, Observes how much a chintz exceeds mohair.
Seite 315 - Scarce once herself, by turns all Womankind ! Who, with herself, or others, from her birth Finds all her life one warfare upon earth: Shines in exposing Knaves, and painting Fools, Yet is, whate'er she hates and ridicules.