Percy Bysshe Shelley
Prometheus Unbound is a lyrical drama by Percy Bysshe Shelley, written in English and associated with the Romantic movement and the genre of romantic poetry.
Shelley was born on 4 August 1792 in Horsham and received his education at Eton College before attending University College, Oxford. He worked across multiple occupations, serving as a poet, writer, playwright, librettist, translator, linguist, and novelist. His notable works include the sonnet "Ozymandias," the lyric poems "The Cloud" and "Love's Philosophy," and the drama Prometheus Unbound. His citizenship records connect him to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the Kingdom of Great Britain, the Kingdom of Italy, and Switzerland.
Shelley died on 8 July 1822 in the Gulf of La Spezia, near Viareggio, at the age of twenty-nine. The Library of Congress catalogs him under the authorized label "Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 1792–1822," a designation that anchors his presence in literary collections and reference systems.
Quotes by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley's insights on:
Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neighs with obedience. jealousy, nor fear.
Away, away, from men and towns, / To the wildwood and the downs, — / To the silent wilderness, / Where the soul need not repress its music.”
Teach me half the gladness / That thy brain must know, / Such harmonious madness / From my lips would flow / The world should listen then—as I am listening now.
Such hope, as is the sick despair of good, / Such fear, as is the certainty of ill, / Such doubt, as is pale Expectation’s food / Turned while she tastes to poison, when the will / Is powerless, and the spirit...
There is no real wealth but the labor of man. Were the mountains of gold and the valleys of silver, the world would not be one grain of corn richer; not one comfort would be added to the human race.
A man to be greatly good must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must himself in the place of another and in many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own.
Then black despair, / The shadows of a starless night, was thrown / Over the world in which I moved alone.
There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been.
He gave man speech, and speech created thought, / Which is the measure of the universe.