The Romantic Age 1785-1839 - WordPress.com · The Romantic Age 1785-1839 Snow Storm: Hannibal and his army crossing the Alps, JMW Turner (1812) ... 4 gang = go 5 fare thee weel =

1 AF / January 2012

The Romantic Age

1785-1839

Snow Storm: Hannibal and his army crossing the Alps, JMW Turner (1812)

Contents

Robert Burns: A Red, Red Rose .............................................................................................. 2

William Blake: The Lamb ........................................................................................................ 3

William Blake: The Tyger ....................................................................................................... 4

William Blake: London ............................................................................................................ 5

William Wordsworth: Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 .................. 6

Tina Dickow: Copenhagen ....................................................................................................... 7

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (excerpt) .................................. 8

Iron Maiden: Rime of the Ancient Mariner ........................................................................... 10

Lord Byron: She Walks In Beauty ......................................................................................... 13

Jane Austen: Emma (excerpt) ................................................................................................ 14

Mary Shelley: Frankenstein (excerpt) .................................................................................... 15

Walter Scott: Ivanhoe (excerpt) ............................................................................................. 17

2 AF / January 2012

Robert Burns: A Red, Red Rose

O my luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June;

O my luve's like a melodie

That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou1, my bonnie lass

2,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will love thee3 still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang4 dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun:

I will luve thee still, my Dear,

While the sands o'life shall run.

And fare thee weel5, my only Luve!

And fare thee weel, a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

(1796)

1 thou = you 2 bonnie lass = pretty girl 3 thee = you 4 gang = go 5 fare thee weel = goodbye

3 AF / January 2012

William Blake: The Lamb

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Gave thee life, and bid thee feed6

By the stream and o'er the mead7;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing, woolly, bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales8 rejoice?

Little Lamb, who made thee?

Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee,

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:

He is called by thy9 name,

For he calls himself a Lamb.

He is meek10

, and he is mild;

He became a little child.

I a child, and thou a lamb.

We are called by his name.

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

Little Lamb, God bless thee!

(1789)

6 bid thee feed = told you to eat 7 mead = field 8 vales = valleys 9 thy = your 10 meek = gentle

4 AF / January 2012

William Blake: The Tyger

Tyger

11! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame12

thy fearful symmetry13

?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine14

eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire15

?

What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.

Could twist the sinews16

of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread17

hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil18

? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

(1794)

11 tyger = tiger 12 frame = make 13 symmetry = shape 14 thine = your 15 aspire = fly high 16 sinews = muscles 17 dread = frightening 18 anvil = heavy iron block on which metal is shaped with a hammer

5 AF / January 2012

William Blake: London

I wander thro'

19 each charter'd

20 street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,

And mark21

in every face I meet

Marks of weakness22

, marks of woe23

.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infant's cry of fear,

In every voice, in every ban24

,

The mind-forg'd25

manacles26

I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry

Every black'ning Church appalls27

;

And the hapless28

Soldier's sigh

Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlot's29

curse

Blasts30

the new born Infant's tear31

,

And blights32

with plagues the Marriage hearse33

.

(1794)

19 thro’ = through 20 charter’d = privileged; the ruling classes hold a charter, a privilege. The use of the word 'Chartered' is ambiguous. It may express the political and economic control that Blake considered London to be enduring at the time of his writing. Blake's friend Thomas Paine had criticised the granting of Royal Charters to control trade as a form of class oppression. However, 'chartered' could also mean 'freighted', and may refer to the busy or overburdened streets and river, or to the licenced trade carried on within them. 21 mark = note 22 weakness = humility 23 woe = grief 24 ban = prohibition 25 mind-forged = created by man’s reason, not rooted in nature 26 manacles = chains tying hands together 27 appall = horrify 28 hapless = unfortunate 29 harlot = whore 30 blast = destroy 31 tear = eye 32 blight = destroy 33 hearse = vehicle for carrying a coffin

6 AF / January 2012

William Wordsworth: Composed Upon Westminster Bridge,

September 3, 1802

Earth has not anything to show more fair34

:

Dull35

would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth, like a garment36

, wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare37

,

Ships, towers, domes38

, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep39

In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

(1802)

Claude Monet: Thames Below Westminster, c. 1871.

34 fair = beautiful 35 dull = boring 36 garment = clothes 37 bare = naked 38 dome = round, circular roof 39 steep = bathe

7 AF / January 2012

Tina Dickow: Copenhagen

Copenhagen

I’ve never seen you look this bright

Just awaken

From the beauty snooze you took last night

Oh, this tingling feeling

To be the blood inside your veins

I’ve been leaving believing

I could find a better place

And all this time…

You were right here

Copenhagen

I’ve never felt your grip so tight

Care is taken

You’ll catch me if I slip, I’ll be alright

Oh, this wonderous feeling

To be walking your empty streets

I’ve been leaving believing

I’d find better streets than these

But all this time…

You were right here

Outside my window

At my feet

In my heart

In the air I breathe

Copenhagen

(2010)

8 AF / January 2012

Samuel Taylor Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

(excerpt)

Three young men are walking together to a wedding, when one of them

is detained by a grizzled old sailor and can do nothing but sit on a

stone and listen to his strange tale. The Mariner says that he

sailed on a ship, and he recalls that the voyage quickly darkened,

as a giant storm rose up in the sea and chased the ship southward

where the ship was stuck inside a maze of ice. But then the sailors

encountered an Albatross, a great sea bird. As it flew around the

ship, the ice cracked and split, and a wind from the south propelled

the ship out of the frigid regions, into a foggy stretch of water.

The Albatross followed behind it, a symbol of good luck to the

sailors, but the old sailor confesses that he shot and killed the

Albatross with his crossbow.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,

Alone on a wide wide sea!

And never a saint took pity on

My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!

And they all dead did lie:

And a thousand thousand slimy things

Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,

And drew my eyes away;

I looked upon the rotting deck,

And there the dead men lay.

I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray:

But or ever a prayer had gusht,

A wicked whisper came, and made

my heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,

And the balls like pulses beat;

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky

Lay like a load on my weary eye,

And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,

Nor rot nor reek did they:

The look with which they looked on me

Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to Hell

A spirit from on high;

But oh! more horrible than that

Is a curse in a dead man's eye!

Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,

And yet I could not die.

9 AF / January 2012

The moving Moon went up the sky,

And no where did abide:

Softly she was going up,

And a star or two beside.

Her beams bemocked the sultry main,

Like April hoar-frost spread;

But where the ship's huge shadow lay,

The charmed water burnt alway

A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship,

I watched the water-snakes:

They moved in tracks of shining white,

And when they reared, the elfish light

Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship

I watched their rich attire:

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,

They coiled and swam; and every track

Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! no tongue

Their beauty might declare:

A spring of love gushed from my heart,

And I blessed them unaware:

Sure my kind saint took pity on me,

And I blessed them unaware.

The self same moment I could pray;

And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.

(1798)

10 AF / January 2012

Iron Maiden: Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Hear the rime of the ancient mariner

See his eye as he stops one of three

Mesmerises one of the wedding guests

Stay here and listen to the nightmares of the sea.

And the music plays on, as the bride passes by

Caught by his spell and the mariner tells his tale.

Driven south to the land of the snow and ice

To a place where nobody's been

Through the snow fog flies on the albatross

Hailed in God's name, hoping good luck it brings.

And the ship sails on, back to the North

Through the fog and ice and the albatross follows on.

The mariner kills the bird of good omen

His shipmates cry against what he's done

But when the fog clears, they justify him

And make themselves a part of the crime.

Sailing on and on and north across the sea

Sailing on and on and north 'til all is calm.

The albatross begins with its vengeance

A terrible curse a thirst has begun

His shipmates blame bad luck on the mariner

About his neck, the dead bird is hung.

And the curse goes on and on and on at sea

And the thirst goes on and on for them and me.

"Day after day, day after day,

we stuck nor breath nor motion

as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean

Water, water everywhere and

all the boards did shrink

Water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink."

There calls the mariner

There comes a ship over the line

But how can she sail with no wind in her sails and no tide.

See...onward she comes

Onward she nears out of the sun

See, she has no crew

She has no life, wait but there's two.

Death and she Life in Death,

They throw their dice for the crew

She wins the mariner and he belongs to her now.

Then...crew one by one


they drop down dead, two hundred men

She...she, Life in Death.

She lets him live, her chosen one.

"One after one by the star dogged moon,

too quick for groan or sigh

each turned his face with a ghastly pang

and cursed me with his eye

four times fifty living men

(and I heard nor sigh nor groan)

with heavy thump, a lifeless lump,

they dropped down one by one."

The curse it lives on in their eyes

The mariner he wished he'd die

Along with the sea creatures

But they lived on, so did he.

And by the light of the moon

He prays for their beauty not doom

With heart he blesses them

God's creatures all of them too.

Then the spell starts to break

The albatross falls from his neck

Sinks down like lead into the sea

Then down in falls comes the rain.

Hear the groans of the long dead seamen

See them stir and they start to rise

Bodies lifted by good spirits

None of them speak and they're lifeless in their eyes

And revenge is still sought, penance starts again

Cast into a trance and the nightmare carries on.

Now the curse is finally lifted

And the mariner sights his home

spirits go from the long dead bodies

Form their own light and the mariner's left alone.

And then a boat came sailing towards him

It was a joy he could not believe

The pilot's boat, his son and the hermit,

Penance of life will fall onto him.

And the ship it sinks like lead into the sea

And the hermit shrieves the mariner of his sins.

The mariner's bound to tell of his story

To tell this tale wherever he goes

To teach God's word by his own example

That we must love all things that God made.


And the wedding guest's a sad and wiser man

And the tale goes on and on and on.

(1984)


Lord Byron: She Walks In Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes40

and starry skies;

And all that 's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect41

and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd42

to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy43

day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd44

the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven45

tress46

,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely47

sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent48

,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

(1814)

40 climes = climates 41 aspect = appearance 42 mellow’d = softened, ripened 43 gaudy = too bright 44 impair’d = damaged 45 raven = black 46 tress = lock of hair 47 serenely = calmly 48 eloquent = able to impress an audience (veltalende)


Jane Austen: Emma (excerpt)

"As a friend!"--repeated Mr. Knightley.--"Emma, that I fear is a word--No, I have no

wish--Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?-- I have gone too far already for

concealment.--Emma, I accept your offer-- Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it,

and refer myself to you as a friend.--Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever

succeeding?"

He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression of his eyes

overpowered her.

"My dearest Emma," said he, "for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of

this hour's conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma--tell me at once. Say `No,'

if it is to be said."-- She could really say nothing.--"You are silent," he cried, with

great animation; "absolutely silent! at present I ask no more."

Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The dread of

being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most prominent feeling.

"I cannot make speeches, Emma:" he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere,

decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing.--"If I loved you less, I

might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.--You hear nothing but

truth from me. --I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no

other woman in England would have borne it.-- Bear with the truths I would tell you

now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may

have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.--

But you understand me.--Yes, you see, you understand my feelings-- and will return

them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice."

While he spoke, Emma's mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful velocity of

thought, had been able--and yet without losing a word-- to catch and comprehend the

exact truth of the whole; to see that Harriet's hopes had been entirely groundless, a

mistake, a delusion, as complete a delusion as any of her own--that Harriet was

nothing; that she was everything herself.

(1816)


Mary Shelley: Frankenstein (excerpt)

It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils.

With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life

around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my

feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes,

and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished

light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a

convulsive motion agitated its limbs.

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch

whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were

in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful!--Great God! His

yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was

of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances

only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the

same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled

complexion and straight black lips.

The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature.

I had worked hard for nearly two years, for the sole purpose of infusing life into an

inanimate body. For this I had deprived myself of rest and health. I had desired it

with an ardour that far exceeded moderation; but now that I had finished, the beauty

of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart. Unable to

endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room, and continued

a long time traversing my bedchamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep. At

length lassitude succeeded to the tumult I had before endured; and I threw myself on

the bed in my clothes, endeavouring to seek a few moments of forgetfulness. But it

was in vain: I slept, indeed, but I was disturbed by the wildest dreams. I thought I

saw Elizabeth, in the bloom of health, walking in the streets of Ingolstadt. Delighted

and surprised, I embraced her; but as I imprinted the first kiss on her lips, they

became livid with the hue of death; her features appeared to change, and I thought

that I held the corpse of my dead mother in my arms; a shroud enveloped her form,

and I saw the grave-worms crawling in the folds of the flannel. I started from my

sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth chattered, and every

limb became convulsed: when, by the dim and yellow light of the moon, as it forced

its way through the window shutters, I beheld the wretch -- the miserable monster

whom I had created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may

be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate

sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not hear;

one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped, and rushed down

stairs. I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited; where

I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation,

listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the

approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life.

Oh! no mortal could support the horror of that countenance. A mummy again endued

with animation could not be so hideous as that wretch. I had gazed on him while

unfinished; he was ugly then; but when those muscles and joints were rendered

capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.

I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and hardly that I

felt the palpitation of every artery; at others, I nearly sank to the ground through

languor and extreme weakness. Mingled with this horror, I felt the bitterness of


disappointment; dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space

were now become a hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so

complete!

Morning, dismal and wet, at length dawned, and discovered to my sleepless and

aching eyes the church of Ingolstadt, its white steeple and clock, which indicated the

sixth hour. The porter opened the gates of the court, which had that night been my

asylum, and I issued into the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to

avoid the wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present to my view.

I did not dare return to the apartment which I inhabited, but felt impelled to hurry on,

although drenched by the rain which poured from a black and comfortless sky.

I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavouring, by bodily exercise,

to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I traversed the streets, without any clear

conception of where I was, or what I was doing. My heart palpitated in the sickness

of fear; and I hurried on with irregular steps, not daring to look about me:--

"Like one who, on a lonely road, Doth walk in fear and dread, And, having once

turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows a frightful

fiend Doth close behind him tread."49

(1816)

49 This is a quotation from Coleridge’s ”The Ancient Mariner”


Walter Scott: Ivanhoe (excerpt)

But Ivanhoe was already at his post, and had closed his visor, and assumed his lance.

Bois-Guilbert did the same; and his esquire remarked, as he clasped his visor, that his

face, which had, notwithstanding the variety of emotions by which he had been

agitated, continued during the whole morning of an ashy paleness, was now become

suddenly very much flushed.

The herald, then, seeing each champion in his place, uplifted his voice, repeating

thrice — “Faites vos devoirs, preux chevaliers!” After the third cry, he withdrew to

one side of the lists, and again proclaimed, that none, on peril of instant death, should

dare, by word, cry, or action, to interfere with or disturb this fair field of combat. The

Grand Master, who held in his hand the gage of battle, Rebecca’s glove, now threw it

into the lists, and pronounced the fatal signal words, “Laissez aller”.

The trumpets sounded, and the knights charged each other in full career. The wearied

horse of Ivanhoe, and its no less exhausted rider, went down, as all had expected,

before the well-aimed lance and vigorous steed of the Templar. This issue of the

combat all had foreseen; but although the spear of Ivanhoe did but, in comparison,

touch the shield of Bois-Guilbert, that champion, to the astonishment of all who

beheld it reeled in his saddle, lost his stirrups, and fell in the lists.

Ivanhoe, extricating himself from his fallen horse, was soon on foot, hastening to

mend his fortune with his sword; but his antagonist arose not. Wilfred, placing his

foot on his breast, and the sword’s point to his throat, commanded him to yield him,

or die on the spot. Bois-Guilbert returned no answer.

“Slay him not, Sir Knight,” cried the

Grand Master, “unshriven and

unabsolved — kill not body and soul!

We allow him vanquished.”

He descended into the lists, and

commanded them to unhelm the

conquered champion. His eyes were

closed — the dark red flush was still

on his brow. As they looked on him

in astonishment, the eyes opened —

but they were fixed and glazed. The

flush passed from his brow, and gave

way to the pallid hue of death.

Unscathed by the lance of his enemy,

he had died a victim to the violence

of his own contending passions.

“This is indeed the judgment of

God,” said the Grand Master, looking

upwards — “Fiat voluntas tua! ”

(1820)

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The Romantic Age 1785-1839 - WordPress.com · The Romantic Age 1785-1839 Snow Storm: Hannibal and his army crossing the Alps, JMW Turner (1812) ... 4 gang = go 5 fare thee weel =