The Poetical Works of William Blake, Volumen1Chatto & Windus, 1906 |
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Página 16
... trembling shore . And on the verge of this wild sea Famine and death do cry ; The cries of women and of babes Over the field do fly . The King is seen raging afar , With all his men of might ; Like blazing comets scattering death ...
... trembling shore . And on the verge of this wild sea Famine and death do cry ; The cries of women and of babes Over the field do fly . The King is seen raging afar , With all his men of might ; Like blazing comets scattering death ...
Página 35
... , nor pleasure sits With trembling age , the voice of Conscience then , Sweeter than music in a summer's eve , Shall warble round the snowy head , and keep Sweet symphony to feathered angels , sitting As guardians round POETICAL SKETCHES ...
... , nor pleasure sits With trembling age , the voice of Conscience then , Sweeter than music in a summer's eve , Shall warble round the snowy head , and keep Sweet symphony to feathered angels , sitting As guardians round POETICAL SKETCHES ...
Página 44
... tremble , and each knee grows slack . The stars of heaven tremble ; the roaring voice of war , The trumpet , calls to battle . Brother in brother's blood Must bathe , rivers of death . O land most hapless ! O beauteous island , how ...
... tremble , and each knee grows slack . The stars of heaven tremble ; the roaring voice of war , The trumpet , calls to battle . Brother in brother's blood Must bathe , rivers of death . O land most hapless ! O beauteous island , how ...
Página 45
... trembling sinews of old age must work The work of death against their progeny . For Tyranny hath stretched his purple arm , And Blood ! ' he cries : " The chariots and the horses , The noise of shout , and dreadful thunder of The battle ...
... trembling sinews of old age must work The work of death against their progeny . For Tyranny hath stretched his purple arm , And Blood ! ' he cries : " The chariots and the horses , The noise of shout , and dreadful thunder of The battle ...
Página 47
... burns eternal fire . O for a hand to pluck me forth ! ' As the voice of an omen heard in the silent valley when the few inhabitants cling trembling together , as the voice of the Angel of Death , when POETICAL SKETCHES 47.
... burns eternal fire . O for a hand to pluck me forth ! ' As the voice of an omen heard in the silent valley when the few inhabitants cling trembling together , as the voice of the Angel of Death , when POETICAL SKETCHES 47.
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Términos y frases comunes
Ahania Albion Angel arms beauty beheld beneath Beulah Blake blood BOOK OF LOS Book of Urizen bosom bright Bromion called chains clouds curse DAGWORTH dark daughters death deep delight Divine dost doth earth Enitharmon eternal eyes father fear Felpham female fire flames four Zoas Fuzon gates golden hand head heard heart Hell holy howling human imagination immortal jealousy Jehovah Jerusalem Jesus King labour Leutha limbs loins Lord loud Luvah Milton mind Mnetha morning mortal mountains Myratana never Night VIII nude o'er Ololon Oothoon Palamabron pity poem poetic Rahab Rintrah rock roll round Satan serpent shadow silent sleep smile song sons sorrow soul Spectre spirit stood sweet symbol tears terror Tharmas thee Thel Theotormon thine Thomas Dagworth thou thro thunders Tiriel tree trembling Ulro Urthona Vala vales verse virgin vision voice weeping wept wings words wrath youth
Pasajes populares
Página 85 - Tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry ? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes ? On what wings dare he aspire ? What the hand dare seize the fire ? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
Página 89 - I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I water'd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright; And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had...
Página 142 - Mock on' Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau; Mock on, mock on: 'tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it back again. And every sand becomes a gem, Reflected in the beams divine. Blown back they blind the mocking eye, But still in Israel's paths they shine.
Página 246 - Then I asked: does a firm perswasion that a thing is so, make it so?
Página 65 - My mother bore me in the southern wild, ,' And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel is the English child: ' But I am black as if bereav'd of light My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And pointing to the east began to say. Look on the rising sun: there God does live And gives his light, and gives his heat away. And flowers and trees and...
Página 84 - The SICK ROSE O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
Página 74 - No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, And we cannot go to sleep ; Besides in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are all cover'd with sheep. Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, And then go home to bed.
Página 79 - So sung a little Clod of Clay Trodden with the cattle's feet, But a Pebble of the brook Warbled out these metres meet: " Love seeketh only Self to please, To bind another to Its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.
Página 70 - Sweet babe, in thy face Holy image I can trace ; Sweet babe, once like thee Thy Maker lay, and wept for me : Wept for me, for thee, for all, When He was an infant small. Thou His image ever see, Heavenly face that smiles on thee ! Smiles on thee, on me, on all, Who became an infant small ; Infant smiles are his own smiles ; Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
Página 8 - Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide! He showed me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow.