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E4: Romanticism

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john meehan

on 26 March 2013

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Transcript of E4: Romanticism

Spotlight on Sample Student Research Paper Writing Tyger! Tyger! 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 sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet? The Tyger by William Blake What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? 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? "[P]oetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility." - William Wordsworth
"Preface to Lyrical Ballads" (1800) Romanticism ROMANTICISM Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o’er the mead,
5 Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
10 Dost thou know who made thee? The Lamb
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is called by thy name,
For He calls himself a Lamb.
15 He is meek, 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!
20 Little Lamb, God bless thee! When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry “’weep! ’weep! ’weep! ’weep!”
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.

5 There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb’s back, was shaved: so I said
“Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head’s bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.”

And so he was quiet, and that very night,
10 As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight!—
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black. And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free;
15 Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun.

Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
20 He’d have God for his father, and never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm. The Chimney Sweeper From "Songs of Innocence" A little black thing among the snow
Crying “’weep, ’weep,” in notes of woe!
“Where are thy father & mother? say?”
“They are both gone up to the church to pray.

5 “Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil’d among the winter’s snow;
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

“And because I am happy, & dance & sing,
10 They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.” The Chimney Sweeper From "Songs of Experience" William Blake I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

5 And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night,
10 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 veiled the pole:
15 In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree. A Poison Tree from Songs of Experience 1798-1832 British from Songs of Experience Simile
Personification Consonance
Metaphor Hyperbole
Tone KEY TERMS FOR POETRY ANALYSIS "Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog" (1818)
THE INDIVIDUAL Romantic writers found their in art, nature, dreams, and the emotional side of human relationships. By focusing on the of each person's experience, each author can emphasize personal FEELINGS instead of cold hard FACTS feelings > facts By focusing on the each author is free to depict the world
USING THEIR OWN IMAGINATION. A movement in the arts and literature that originated around 1800.

It emphasized inspiration, subjectivity, and the primacy of the individual. Rhythm
Internal rhyme
Rhyme scheme
Slant rhyme
Assonance So send somebody
'Cause I'm stranded
And there's no place left where I can run
Send somebody
'Cause I'm hanging by a thread
Now the whole damn thing's undone

You have to know I can't let go
Now I've made this connection
You see the love that runs the show
Or random speculation

In my desperation I'm a danger to myself
I need your direction
Yeah, I need someone else

From my window
As the leaves begin in the fall
Before the cold wind comes
Please hear my call Hello to who I'm talkin' to
No more automation
I'm hoping you can walk me through
And solve my situation

It's after midnight
An' I've been on hold so long
You broke through the silence
Now I'm not alone

You're askin' me to help you see
The words begin to flow
This was not my plan or my intention
An' how was I to know?

For such a short time
I feel I've known you for so long
I don't think I can make it on my own "Send Somebody" By Colin Hay In the 'Preface to lyrical Ballads," author William Blake descripes poetry as the "spontaneous overflow of emotion... recollected in tranquility." This phrase, encourages writers to think for theirselves and focus more on their feelings than the cold hard facts. The Spirit of Romanticism is also embodied, a literary movement that was tremendously popular staring in the 17th century. Some have even called this Era "the most prolific in all of British history (Samuels 23)". Major authors of this period include John Keats, Percy Shelley, and William Worlsworth; and their writings focus on themes of inspiration, imagination, and individuality. I will be covering these themes in this Research Paper. wait a second... 1789 1794 How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lamb's innocent call,
And he hears the ewe's tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh. The Shepherd ______________ plays a major role in the poems of William Blake. His 1789 poem "The Chimney Sweeper" demonstrates this them, as it is written from the perspective of a boy who is forced to work a dangerous job at a young age. ___________ of the hardship, the boy clings to his faith, and he takes comfort in the hope it provides. In the fourth ________ of the poem, the speaker says: quoting in conext "And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the Sun" (Blake 652). This dream incorporates ____________ from the Bible, such as the Angel" and the "Sun," and it is a(n) ________________ to traditional descriptions of heaven. The speaker's _____________ is optimistic, which proves that Blake views religion as a symbol of hope. Lord Byron John Keats Samuel Taylor Coleridge Percy Bysshe Shelley Part I

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy long gray beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

5 The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May’st hear the merry din.”

He holds him with his skinny hand,
10 “There was a ship,” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, gray-beard loon!”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye—
The Wedding Guest stood still,
15 And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
20 The bright-eyed Mariner.

“The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

25 The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
30 Till over the mast at noon—”
The Wedding Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon. The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
35 Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
40 The bright-eyed Mariner.

“And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

45 With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
50 And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

55 And through the drifts the snowy cliffs
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
60 The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
65 As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name. It ate the food it ne’er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder fit;
70 The helmsman steered us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners’ hello!

75 In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moonshine.”

“God save thee, ancient Mariner!
80 From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look’st thou so?”—With my crossbow
I shot the ALBATROSS. What possible motives might the Ancient Mariner have had for killing the Albatross? Post your group's findings to Padlet. SEARCHING FOR SYMBOLISM scan me for an electronic copy of the poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Ballad Form A highly rhythmic poem with alternating rhyming lines.

Ballads typically contain lines of 8 syllables followed by lines of 6 syllables. INSPIRATION SUBJECTIVITY THE PRIMACY OF
THE INDIVIDUAL Romantic writers found their in art, nature, dreams, and the emotional side of human relationships. By focusing on the of each person's experience, each author can emphasize personal FEELINGS instead of cold hard FACTS feelings > facts By focusing on the each author is free to depict the world
USING THEIR OWN IMAGINATION. What might this symbolize? She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
5 Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
10 Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
15 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! She Walks in Beauty What's the point of LOVE SONGS? Do love songs serve a purpose?

Are they just a bunch of lame cliches?

Do any "great" love songs even exist? (a.k.a. George Gordon) And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
15 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
20 The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

5 Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
10 And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still! The Destruction of Sennacherib Don Juan ODES types of poems ballads EPICS sonnets elegies narratives IAMBIC PENTAMETER OTTAVA RIMA eight lines of iambic pentameter, rhyming abababcc a ten-syllable line of poetry, alternating between stressed and unstressed syllables. p. 715 I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
5 And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
10 “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away. Ozymandias What do you think of Byron’s attitude toward women? Use specific evidence from the poem to support your claim. Ode to a Nightingale 1

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethewards had sunk:
5 ’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness—
That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
10 Singest of summer in full-throated ease.


O, for a draft of vintage! that hath been
Cooled a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
15 O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stainèd mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
20 And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 3

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
25 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
30 Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow.


Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
35 Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Clustered around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
40 Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 5

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
45 The grass, the thicket, and the fruit tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets covered up in leaves;
And mid-May’s eldest child,
The coming musk rose, full of dewy wine,
50 The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.


Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
55 Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
60 To thy high requiem become a sod. 7

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
65 Perhaps the selfsame song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
70 Of perilous seas, in fairy lands forlorn.


Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
75 Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hillside; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
80 Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep? 1

Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
5 What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loath?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
10 What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?


Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
15 Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
20 Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
Forever piping songs forever new;
25 More happy love! more happy, happy love!
Forever warm and still to be enjoyed,
Forever panting, and forever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,
30 A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.


Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands dressed?
35 What little town by river or seashore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets forevermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
40 Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.


O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
45 As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,”—that is all
50 Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. Ode on a Grecian Urn WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF ART?
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