Atalanta in Calydon: A Tragedy

Edward Moxon & Company, 1865 - 111 sidor
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Sida 12 - A time to serve and to sin; They gave him light in his ways, And love, and a space for delight, And beauty and length of days, And night, and sleep in the night.
Sida 107 - Unto each man his fate; Unto each as he saith In whose fingers the weight Of the world is as breath; Yet I would that in clamour of battle mine hands had laid hold upon death.
Sida 46 - ... the morning, and cold hills Full of the land-wind and sea-travelling storms And many a wandering wing of noisy nights That know the thunder and hear the thickening wolves — Me the utmost pine and footless frost of woods That talk with many winds and gods, the hours Re-risen, and white divisions of the dawn, Springs thousand-tongued with the intermitting reed And streams that murmur of the mother snow — Me these allure, and know me ; but no man Knows, and my goddess only. Lo now, see If one...
Sida 118 - I dying with unforgetful tongue Hail thee as holy and worship thee as just Who art unjust and unholy : and with my knees Would worship, but thy fire and subtlety, Dissundering them, devour me ; for these limbs Are as light dust and crumblings from mine urn Before the fire has touched them ; and my face As a dead leaf or dead foot's mark on snow, And all this body a broken barren tree That was so strong, and all this flower of life Disbranched and desecrated miserably, And minished all that god-like...
Sida 110 - ATALANTA I would that as water My life's blood had thawn, Or as winter's wan daughter Leaves lowland and lawn Spring-stricken, or ever mine eyes had beheld thee made dark in thy dawn.
Sida 114 - MELEAGER Would the winds blow me back Or the waves hurl me home ? Ah, to touch in the track Where the pine learnt to roam Cold girdles and crowns of the sea-gods, cool blossoms of water and foam...
Sida 111 - Thou shouldst die as he dies For whom none sheddeth tears ; Filling thine eyes And fulfilling thine ears With the brilliance of battle, the bloom and the beauty, the splendor of spears. CHORUS. In the ears of the world It is sung, it is told, And the light thereof hurled And the noise thereof rolled From the Acroceraunian snow to the ford of the fleece of gold.

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