Poetic Form and British Romanticism

Első borító
Oxford University Press, 1990. febr. 22. - 288 oldal
Across Europe, and particularly in Great Britain, the Romantic age coincided with a large-scale revival of lost literatures and the first attempts to create a coherent history of Western literature. Calling into question that history, Stuart Curran demonstrates that the Romantic poets, far from being indifferent or hostile to popular forms of literature were actually obsessed with them as repositories of literary conventions and conveyors of implicit ideological value. Whether in their proccupation with fixed forms, which resulted in the incomparable artistry of Romantic odes, or in their rethinking of major genres like the pastoral, the epic, and the romance, the Romantic poets transformed every element they touched to suit their own democratic, secular and skeptical ethos--a world view recognizably modern in its dimensions.

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Kiválasztott oldalak

Tartalomjegyzék

Chapter 1 Of Form and Genre
3
Chapter 2 The Second Renaissance
14
Chapter 3 The Sonnet
29
Chapter 4 The Hymn and Ode
56
Chapter 5 The Pastoral
85
Chapter 6 The Romance
128
Chapter 7 The Epic
158
Chapter 8 Composite Orders
180
Chapter 9 Form and Freedom in European Romantic Poetry
204
Notes
221
Index
253
Copyright

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99. oldal - Paradise, and groves Elysian, Fortunate Fields — like those of old Sought in the Atlantic Main — why should they be A history only of departed things, Or a mere fiction of what never was ? For the discerning intellect of Man, When wedded to this goodly universe In love and holy passion, shall find these A simple produce of the common day.
55. oldal - AN old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king ; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn — mud from a muddy spring ; Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know. But leech-like to their fainting country cling...
204. oldal - NATUR UND KUNST sie scheinen sich zu fliehen, Und haben sich, eh man es denkt, gefunden; Der Widerwille ist auch mir verschwunden, Und beide scheinen gleich mich anzuziehen. Es gilt wohl nur ein redliches Bemühen! Und wenn wir erst in abgemeßnen Stunden Mit Geist und Fleiß uns an die Kunst gebunden, Mag frei Natur im Herzen wieder glühen.
90. oldal - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring.
108. oldal - Which the great lord inhabits not ; and so This grove is wild with tangling underwood, And the trim walks are broken up, and grass, Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths. But never elsewhere in one place I knew So many Nightingales ; and far and near, In wood and thicket, over the wide grove, They answer and provoke each other's song, With skirmish and capricious passagings, And murmurs musical and swift jug jug, And one low piping Sound more sweet than all...
150. oldal - The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy ; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted...
51. oldal - Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees : Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business : these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount ; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on ; and her rights are these.
141. oldal - Action is transitory — a step, a blow, The motion of a muscle — this way or that — 'Tis done, and in the after-vacancy We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed : Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.
120. oldal - I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be...
125. oldal - twere a little sky Gulphed in a world below ; A firmament of purple light, Which in the dark earth lay, More boundless than the depth of night, And purer than the day — In which the lovely forests grew As in the upper air, More perfect both in shape and hue Than any spreading there. There lay the glade and neighbouring lawn, And through the dark green wood The white sun twinkling like the dawn Out of a speckled cloud. Sweet views which in our world above Can never well be seen, Were imaged by the...

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