- Project Runeberg -  On the language of Swinburne's lyrics and epics /
59

(1910) [MARC] Author: Frank Heller
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IMAGES, ETC.

59

of course be taken in a somewhat wider meaning than
usual.

Generally, the former kind of images are characterized
in Swinburne by pregnancy and great poetical power of
enchantment; and not seldom the latter help to produce
the frequent obscurity and vagueness of Swinburne’s
language.

It will be best to let the images borrowed from nature
plead their own cause.

I, 13, . . . Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers,
Or where the wind’s feet shine along the sea.
145, ... those high songs of thine
That stung the sense like wine,
Or fell more soft than dew or snow by night,
Or wailed as in some flooded cave
Sobs the strong broken spirit of a wave.
178, the sound . . . cleaves night as an arrow asunder.
199, Your feet in the full-grown grasses
Moved soft as a weak wind blows;
You passed me as April passes . . .

IV, 3S, ... each on each

Hung with strange eyes and hovered as a bird
Wounded, and each mouth trembled for a word;
Their heads neared, and their hands were drawn in one,
And they saw dark, though still the unsunken sun
Far through fine rain shot fire into the south,
And their four lips became one burning mouth.

V, 174, Ages ago from the lips of a sad glad poet

Whose soul was a wild dove lost in the whirling
snow . . .

IV, 201, And down a dim deep woodland way
They rode between the boughs asway
With flickering winds whose flash and play
Made sunlight sunnier where the day
Laughed, leapt, and fluttered like a bird
Caught in a light loose leafy net
That earth for amorous heaven had set
To hold and see the sundawn yet
And hear what morning heard.

The last lines quoted [from «The Tale of Balen»] also

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