1. JOHN MILTON (1608-1674)

Paradise Lost 17th c.

An EPIC POEM in BLANK VERSE which is considered to be Milton's greatest work. He composed the whole poem being completely blind. At night he invented verses and in the morning he recited them to be written down. The poem being extremely long and complicated, Milton must have been a great mind to create it. The poem comprises 12 BOOKS, following the model of Virgil's Aeneid. Linguistically, it is inspired by VIRGIL's and HOMER's works. Its language is lofty, sophisticated, with long sentences and syntax resembling Latin. Also, there are many allusions to Greek mythology. Although Milton was inspired by ancient poets, he did not copy them, but introduced new ideas which gave a new perspective on writing epics. His poem is considered to be unique for two main reasons. Firstly, it is the ONLY known CHRISTIAN EPIC ever written. Milton was a devoted Puritan, whose intention was to laud the Almighty God. Secondly, it is the FIRST ENGLISH EPIC (Beowulf is not in English). In Milton's times English was considered a barbaric language. By composing this magnificent work, he proved otherwise.

THEME: Because it is an epic, the poem concerns itself with grand themes which are timeless and universal. I tells the story of the FALL OF MAN, i.e. the ORIGINAL SIN and the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. At the beginning of the poem, Milton reveals the purpose of this piece of writing. The author wants to explain GOD'S PLANS in regard to man. In other words, Milton puts himself in a position of a PROPHET.

INVOCATION: following the tradition of Virgil and Homer, Milton begins his poem with invocation of the Greek MUSE, asking her for inspiration and assistance. However, because he is Christian, not only the Muse, but also the HOLY SPIRIT in a dove's shape is guiding him. This MIXTURE OF CHRISTIANITY AND PAGANISM is characteristic of Milton's work.

Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit Latin syntax INVOCATION
Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of EDEN, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top The Muse is a mythological element,
Of OREB, or of SINAI, didst inspire whereas Oreb and Sinai are Christian symbols.
That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed,
In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth again: “in the beginning” is a quotation from Genesis
Rose out of CHAOS: Or if SION Hill and Chaos is chararacteristic of a myth.
Delight thee more, and SILOA'S Brook that flow'd
Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th' AONIAN Mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime.
And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer The Holy Spirit
Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread
Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss The Holy Spirit is presented as dove
And mad'st it pregnant: What in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That to the highth of this great Argument
I may assert th' Eternal Providence,
And justifie the wayes of God to men. The purpose of composing this epic

BOOK III

It is the most autobiographical of all the Books.

In Book III, Milton addresses “HOLY LIGHT”. Light is meant literally, as lack of darkness, and symbolically, as divine knowledge. He praises this pure, good, eternal light. He expresses the belief that God is light, alluding to the Gospel of John. Subsequently, he speaks of HIS OWN BLINDNESS. Among the things he cannot see he mentions the Book of knowledge fair, i.e. the Bible. Tus, as a result of his blindness, he is also separated from wisdom because he cannot read the Bible. Therefore, he asks light to illuminate him, give him divine knowledge as a compensation and let him see things that are obscure to mankind so that he can tell others about them.

Hail holy light, offspring of Heav'n first-born, an address to light: second invocation
Or of th' Eternal Coeternal beam
May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light, God is light
And never but in unapproached light
Dwelt from Eternitie, dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
Or hear'st thou rather pure Ethereal stream,
Whose Fountain who shall tell? before the Sun,
Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a Mantle didst invest
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formless infinite.

[…]

Thus with the Year
Seasons return, but not to me returns

Day, or the sweet approach of Ev'n or Morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud in stead, and ever-during dark blindness
Surrounds me, from the chearful waies of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair the Bible
Presented with a Universal blanc
Of Natures works to mee expung'd and ras'd,
And wisdome at one entrance quite shut out. Separated from wisdom
So much the rather thou Celestial light
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence requests illumination and divine knowledge
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.

BOOK XII

Although it is the Book about banishment from Eden, it is not utterly pessimistic. Archangel Michael gives Adam hope before expelling him from the Garden. He says that if Adam becomes a virtuous, loving man, he will be happy despite being banished because he will have his own PARADISE WITHIN HIMSELF. He moreover foretells a happy end awaiting them and the whole mankind which is to be given by the WOMAN'S SEED. This promise is an allusion to Jesus Christ and our salvation by his death. Also, God in his gentleness and mercy, comforts Eve in her sleep so that she wouldn't feel depressed. He makes her understand, that even though they are banished from Eden, they still HAVE EACH OTHER. With their mutual love and support, they are able to be happy despite hardships. She feels responsible for their misery, but she is given a chance to redeem herself. Although the Paradise is lost because of her crime, its restoration will also take place thanks to her, as the Seed will be her descendant.

This having learnt, thou hast attaind the summe Archangel Michael speaking
Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the Starrs
Thou knewst by name, and all th' ethereal Powers,
All secrets of the deep, all Natures works,
Or works of God in Heav'n, Air, Earth, or Sea,
And all the riches of this World enjoydst,
And all the rule, one Empire; onely add
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add Faith, be virtuous
Add Vertue, Patience, Temperance, add Love,
By name to come call'd Charitie, the soul
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess a paradise within you
A Paradise within thee, happier farr.
Let us descend now therefore from this top
Of Speculation; for the hour precise
Exacts our parting hence; and see the Guards,
By mee encampt on yonder Hill, expect
Thir motion, at whose Front a flaming Sword,
In signal of remove, waves fiercely round;
We may no longer stay: go, waken Eve;
Her also I with gentle Dreams have calm'd
Portending good, and all her spirits compos'd
To meek submission: thou at season fit
Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard,
Chiefly what may concern her Faith to know,
The great deliverance by her Seed to come the promise of Jesus redeeming mankind
(For by the Womans Seed) on all Mankind.
That ye may live, which will be many dayes,
Both in one Faith unanimous though sad,
With cause for evils past, yet much more cheer'd
With meditation on the happie end.
He ended, and they both descend the Hill;
Descended, ADAM to the Bowre where EVE
Lay sleeping ran before, but found her wak't;
And thus with words not sad she him receav'd.
Whence thou returnst, & whither wentst, I know;
For God is also in sleep, and Dreams advise,
Which he hath sent propitious, some great good
Presaging, since with sorrow and hearts distress
VVearied I fell asleep: but now lead on;
In mee is no delay; with thee to goe,
Is to stay here; without thee here to stay,
Is to go hence unwilling; thou to mee
Art all things under Heav'n, all places thou, they have each other
VVho for my wilful crime art banisht hence.
This further consolation yet secure
I carry hence; though all by mee is lost,
Such favour I unworthie am voutsaft, she is the reason of the fall,
By mee the Promis'd Seed shall all restore. but at the same time, the mother of Redeemer
So spake our Mother EVE, and ADAM heard
VVell pleas'd, but answer'd not; for now too nigh
Th' Archangel stood, and from the other Hill
To thir fixt Station, all in bright array
The Cherubim descended; on the ground
Gliding meteorous, as Ev'ning Mist
Ris'n from a River o're the marish glides,
And gathers ground fast at the Labourers heel
Homeward returning. High in Front advanc't,
The brandisht Sword of God before them blaz'd
Fierce as a Comet; which with torrid heat,
And vapour as the LIBYAN Air adust,
Began to parch that temperate Clime; whereat
In either hand the hastning Angel caught
Our lingring Parents, and to th' Eastern Gate
Let them direct, and down the Cliff as fast
To the subjected Plaine; then disappeer'd.
They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,
Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Gate
With dreadful Faces throng'd and fierie Armes:
Som natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon;
The World was all before them, where to choose
Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
Through EDEN took thir solitarie way.

On His Blindness

In this SONNET, Milton is describing his REACTION to his BLINDNESS (he went blind when he was about 35).Because he is a very religious man, the poem is based on the PARABLE OF TALENTS from the Gospel of Matthew. Similarly to those from the parable, Milton received HIS TALENT, i.e. WRITING, but he is unable to cultivate it, as he cannot see. The first part of the poem suggests that the author is in a rebellious mood. He seems CONFUSED, because he cannot understand the ways of GOD who TOOK AWAY from him his only talent. He wonders whether God would punish him for not multiply his talents and he feels it would be unfair. How can God expect him to multiply them when He took his sight from him? After this climactic question, he calms down. His PERSONIFIED PATIENCE answers his doubts. Serving God does not necessarily mean being active. People who silently and patiently BEAR THEIR CROSS, their burden, serve God best. They follow the example of Jesus, who was like a lamb led to a slaughter. To sum up, Milton's religious spirit was not broken by his misfortune. Conversely, it strengthened, since Milton attributed a special meaning to his sufferings, which gave sense to his existence.

When I consider how my light is spent i.e. consider my blindness
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide allusion to the Parable of talents, his talent-writing
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent remained
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" Can God expect me to multiply my talents?; rebellious
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent personified Patience
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best those, who patiently bear their burden , serve God best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state yoke- jarzmo
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."

2. WILLIAM BLAKE (1757-1827)

He was a mystic and a visionary. He had had VISIONS of angels since the death of his brother. Therefore, as a person and as a poet he rejected reason and preferred IMAGINATION. Moreover, he wrote mainly about CHILDHOOD, sufferings of children and poor people. His poems often resemble in form songs and nursery rhymes. Because of his style and beliefs, he may be called a pre-romantic artist.

The Lamb

The poem is written in a simple language, that of a child. It resembles in form a nursery rhyme. The speaker is a child. It addresses the lamb and asks it a simple, typical for children question: what made you? It may be simple in form, but it is profound in meaning. Adults are afraid of such questions, because they do not know the answer. A child in its innocence is able to ask and answer them easily. It knows without much thinking that it was Christ who made us. It have probably learnt about him not long ago and now is happy to have such a God. Because for this child, GOD is MEEK, mild and kind. And everything made by him is also good. It feels that being called by the same name as Christ is something to rejoice at, that is why it is glad. Both a lamb and a child symbolize INNOCENCE, and the world of this child is innocent, not marred by sins and misfortunes of adult life.

Little Lamb, who made thee? Question: who made us?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright; a lamb is sth pleasant, a good creation
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales 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 thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild; how the child sees Jesus
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!

The Tyger

It is the most famous Blake's poem. Probably, thanks to its rhythmic verse which is very easy to remember. In form, it is similar to the poem THE LAMB, here also the animal is addressed directly and asked about its source. The lamb is mentioned in the poem and it becomes clear that those two are put together to create a CONTRAST. Tellingly, The Lamb comes from “Songs of Innocence” and The Tyger from “Songs of experience”. UNLIKE a meek LAMB, a tiger is a creature of the night, DANGEROUS and frightening and is a symbol of terror and death. When we ask about its source, there is a whole new meaning to it. It is not an innocent question of a child, the SPEAKER in this poem is much more mature and EXPERIENCED. It is not easy for him to ask this question and he does not have an answer. It even seems that he is afraid to reply, he does not want to know. He DREADS the tiger but at the same time he is fascinated by its beauty. Here, God is not gentle Jesus, He is more like Old Testament's vengeful GOD. He is depicted as a powerful SMITH. He is TERRIFYING, because someone who made this frightening creature must be even more dreadful. Also, when the speaker asks whether God made the tiger, he in fact asks about the ORIGIN OF EVIL. It is hard to believe that good was made by the same hand. In the poem the sky cries when evil is created. However, it is not clear whether God is happy with his creation or not. The poem speaks about NUMINOSUM, i.e. all those fearsome aspects of God. In nature, good and evil coexist. To fully understand one, we need the other. One cannot exist without the other. They are CONTRASTING, but at the same time, COMPLEMENTING each other. As HEGEL put it, the conflict between thesis and antithesis is solved by SYNTHESIS.

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye what kind of God?
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 seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp the maker must be dreadful
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears, the sky crying when evil was created
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee? Does good and evil have the same origin, God?
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

London influenced by Rousseau, the city is an infernal place full of suffering, very Dickens-like.

Nurse's Song (1 & 2)

The first Nurse's Song comes from Songs of Innocence, whereas the other from Songs of Experience. The titles tell us that they are a whole. The FIRST of the poems indeed reminds of a song with its INTERNAL RHYMES and rhythmic verse. It is told from the perspective of the nurse, but it also relates the conversation between her and the children. The REPETITIONS like “well, well”, “come, come”, make their talk seem more realistic. In the poem, the nurse is a YOUNG PERSON who loves children, indulges them and understands them. The scenery is calm and SOOTHING, the world seems to be a good, safe place. The children play happily on the green and do not want to stop, even though the sun is already setting. They want to participate as long as they can in this beautiful day. The nurse would like them to go to bed, but she lets them play until its night. The children are in state of PRELAPSARIAN (i.e. before sin) INNOCENCE. The DAY symbolizes CHILDHOOD, and the NIGHT is a symbol of SIN and ADULTHOOD. Although it is still day in the poem, it is clear that night will inevitably come.

When the voices of children are heard on the green playground
And laughter is heard on the hill
My heart is at rest within my breast soothing atmosphere
Everything else is still
“Then come home my children the sun has gone down
And the dues of the night arise;
Come, come leave off play and let us away

Till the morning appears in the skies.”
“No, no, let us play for it is yet day
We cannot go to sleep;
Besides in the skies the little birds fly
And the hills are all covered with sheep”
“Well, well go and play till the light fades away
And then go home to bed”.
The little ones leaped, shouted and laughed
And all the hills echoed.

The second Nurse's Song is different. It is CONTRASTING with the first one. There are no internal rhymes in the poem. The nurse is OLDER, more experienced, more mature. She seems EMBITTERED. Although the language of this poem is as simple as the previous one's, its atmosphere is MENACING. The words which in the first song had a very positive and innocent meaning, become marred and change their content. GREEN means here ENVY, PLAY is a WASTE OF TIME, DALE seems to be a DANGEROUS place. Everything is different with the arrival of the night. Now the whole scenery is contaminated with SIN. The childhood is over and the adulthood cruelly distorts the reality of the nurse and the children. Their night is in DISGUISE, which means that they now lie to each other and hide their true feelings and thoughts. In the first poem the children had no problems with expressing their wishes. As adults, they are suspicious of each other and do not dare to voice their desires.

When the voices of children are heard on the green

And whisperings are in the dale,

The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, she's ooold

My face turns green and pale. Yup, envy

Then come home my children, the sun is gone down

And the dews of night arise;

Your spring and your days are wasted in play, play? A waste of time, tfu (says old hag)

And your winter and night in disguise. Your adult life means concealing your true self

3. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH (1770-1850)

The major (beside Coleridge) representative of the first generation of Romantic poets. As a Romantic, Wordsworth preferred imagination over reason. His poetry contains elements typical for Romantic Age: the supernatural, the irrational, folklore, childhood, nature. Especially the latter. He values the role of intuition over reason and the individual over the crowd.

We Are Seven

The poem is a BALLAD, which is a typical form for the Romantic Age. A ballad is a poem with a repetitive rhythm which comprises such elements as the supernatural, mystery, nature and folklore. The FIRST STANZA was not actually written by Wordsworth, but by COLERIDGE and acts as an introduction to the poem. The ballad is told from the point of view of a MATURE MAN, who represents REASON and down-to-earth attitude of the Age of Enlightenment. He encounters a COTTAGE GIRL, a person who lives close to nature and refuses to think in a rational way. She claims that she has SIX SIBLINGS although two of her brothers and sisters have died. The man tries to explain to her that if two are dead then she has only four siblings. However, the girl refuses to admit making a mistake. She has her own way of thinking and rather than reason she believes her INTUITION. She spends time on their graves, she sings to them- for her those two are not dead. She says that their graves are GREEN, so they are full with life. It is worth noting that the only one to mention God and heaven is the man. Although he thinks her mad and mistaken, it is quite possible that the girl possesses some kind of HIGHER KNOWLEDGE of death, impenetrable for the man, because she has an open mind.

The elements typical for the Romanticism:

• nature (cottage girl)

• childhood

• form (ballad)

• the irrational

• emphasis on simplicity

--A Simple Child, written by Coleridge; introduction
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl: close to nature
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air, veery close to nature
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
--Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run above, my little Maid, arguments of reason; you have 6 siblings
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen," graves green- life
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit, she just lives next to them, does ordinary things with them
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sun-set, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

The speaker in the poem is a typical Romantic poet. He once walked lonely, so he is alienated from the society, he does not feel comfortable among people, he prefers to wander alone. He is like a DEMIURGE, looking down on other people, aiming HIGHER than them, that's why he compares himself to a CLOUD. Also because a floating cloud has a feeling of FREEDOM to it. Lastly, it is a part of nature, and as a Romantic, he feels one with nature. While he was walking, he spotted a vast amount of DAFFODILS. He was deeply impressed by this sight, and as he watched, he started to feel joy and bliss. The importance of nature and appreciation of its beauty are in this poem strongly emphasized. Mostly by the INVERSED PERSONIFICATION: the poet attributes to daffodils human features (dancing) and compares himself to a non-human element (a cloud). A very elaborate one- it includes the first three stanzas. This praising attitude towards nature is typical for Wordsworth, as well as Romantic Age in general. The FIRST THREE stanzas are written in PAST tense, whereas the FOURTH is about the PRESENT. It tells us how the speaker writes his poems. He composes about EMOTIONS RECOLLECTED IN TRANQUILLITY: he does not give account of his emotions right on the spot, he recalls them after some time, when they are already rooted deep within him. Those sweet memories recollected in solitude were called by Wordsworth SPOTS OF TIME.

I wandered lonely as a cloud inversed personification
That floats on high o'er vales and hills, he's higher than others
When all at once I saw a crowd, personification
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. personification
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, so we know he's a poet
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude; spots of time
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

4. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

5. Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

More than any other romantic poet Shelley embodied the spirit of the rebel and would-be reformer. His refusal to accept social conventions, political oppression and any form of tyranny manifested itself in his verse, too, where the theme of revolt is often present. At times the emotional extremes present in his verse become excessive, and modern critics have been known to accuse him of immature narcissism. If his works display a certain lack of finish, it must be put down to his passionate character. A poet of great conviction and powerful musicality, and the author of some of the finest lyric poetry in the language. → z kserówki od p. Michalskiego

Ode to the West Wind

I.

 O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry be

The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odors plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

 

II.

 Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,

Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,

Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

 

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread

On the blue surface of thine airy surge,

Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

 

Of some fierce Mænad, even from the dim verge

Of the horizon to the zenith's height,

The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

 

Of the dying year, to which this closing night

Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,

Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapors, from whose solid atmosphere

Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: oh hear!

 

III.

 Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,

Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,

 

Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ's bay,

And saw in sleep old palaces and towers

Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

 

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers

So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou

For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

 

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below

The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear

The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

 

Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,

And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!

 

IV.

 If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;

If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;

A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

 

The impulse of thy strength, only less free

Than thou, O uncontrollable! if even

I were as in my boyhood, and could be

 

The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,

As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed

Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven

 

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.

Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

 

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed

One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

 

V.

 Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is;

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

 

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

 

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!

And, by the incantation of this verse,

 

Scatter, as from an extinguished hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

Be through my lips to unwakened earth

 

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

The speaker invokes the “wild West Wind” of autumn, which scatters the dead leaves and spreads seeds so that they may be nurtured by the spring, and asks that the wind, a “destroyer and preserver,” hear him. The speaker calls the wind the “dirge / Of the dying year,” and describes how it stirs up violent storms, and again implores it to hear him. The speaker says that the wind stirs the Mediterranean from “his summer dreams,” and cleaves the Atlantic into choppy chasms, making the “sapless foliage” of the ocean tremble, and asks for a third time that it hear him.The speaker says that if he were a dead leaf that the wind could bear, or a cloud it could carry, or a wave it could push, or even if he were, as a boy, “the comrade” of the wind's “wandering over heaven,” then he would never have needed to pray to the wind and invoke its powers. He pleads with the wind to lift him “as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!”—for though he is like the wind at heart, untamable and proud—he is now chained and bowed with the weight of his hours upon the earth.The speaker asks the wind to “make me thy lyre,” to be his own Spirit, and to drive his thoughts across the universe, “like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth.” He asks the wind, by the incantation of this verse, to scatter his words among mankind, to be the “trumpet of a prophecy.” Speaking both in regard to the season and in regard to the effect upon mankind that he hopes his words to have, the speaker asks: “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”

The wispy, fluid terza rima of “Ode to the West Wind” finds Shelley taking a long thematic leap beyond the scope of “Hymn to Intellectual Beauty,” and incorporating his own art into his meditation on beauty and the natural world. Shelley invokes the wind magically, describing its power and its role as both “destroyer and preserver,” and asks the wind to sweep him out of his torpor “as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!” In the fifth section, the poet then takes a remarkable turn, transforming the wind into a metaphor for his own art, the expressive capacity that drives “dead thoughts” like “withered leaves” over the universe, to “quicken a new birth”—that is, to quicken the coming of the spring. Here the spring season is a metaphor for a “spring” of human consciousness, imagination, liberty, or morality—all the things Shelley hoped his art could help to bring about in the human mind. Shelley asks the wind to be his spirit, and in the same movement he makes it his metaphorical spirit, his poetic faculty, which will play him like a musical instrument, the way the wind strums the leaves of the trees. The thematic implication is significant: whereas the older generation of Romantic poets viewed nature as a source of truth and authentic experience, the younger generation largely viewed nature as a source of beauty and aesthetic experience. In this poem, Shelley explicitly links nature with art by finding powerful natural metaphors with which to express his ideas about the power, import, quality, and ultimate effect of aesthetic expression.

Ozymandias

I met a traveller 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
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:
`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". 

The speaker recalls having met a traveler “from an antique land,” who told him a story about the ruins of a statue in the desert of his native country. Two vast legs of stone stand without a body, and near them a massive, crumbling stone head lies “half sunk” in the sand. The traveler told the speaker that the frown and “sneer of cold command” on the statue's face indicate that the sculptor understood well the passions of the statue's subject, a man who sneered with contempt for those weaker than himself, yet fed his people because of something in his heart (“The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed”). On the pedestal of the statue appear the words: “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: / Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” But around the decaying ruin of the statue, nothing remains, only the “lone and level sands,” which stretch out around it, far away.

This sonnet from 1817 is probably Shelley's most famous and most anthologized poem—which is somewhat strange, considering that it is in many ways an atypical poem for Shelley, and that it touches little upon the most important themes in his oeuvre at large (beauty, expression, love, imagination). Still, “Ozymandias” is a masterful sonnet. Essentially it is devoted to a single metaphor: the shattered, ruined statue in the desert wasteland, with its arrogant, passionate face and monomaniacal inscription (“Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”). The once-great king's proud boast has been ironically disproved; Ozymandias's works have crumbled and disappeared, his civilization is gone, all has been turned to dust by the impersonal, indiscriminate, destructive power of history. The ruined statue is now merely a monument to one man's hubris, and a powerful statement about the insignificance of human beings to the passage of time. Ozymandias is first and foremost a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of political power, and in that sense the poem is Shelley's most outstanding political sonnet, trading the specific rage of a poem like “England in 1819” for the crushing impersonal metaphor of the statue. But Ozymandias symbolizes not only political power—the statue can be a metaphor for the pride and hubris of all of humanity, in any of its manifestations. It is significant that all that remains of Ozymandias is a work of art and a group of words; as Shakespeare does in the sonnets, Shelley demonstrates that art and language long outlast the other legacies of power.

6. GEORGE BYRON (1788-1824)

He is considered to be one of the greatest representatives of the second generation of literary Romanticism. With impressive looks, rebellious attitude and adventurous lifestyle, he was just what a Romantic should be. Nevertheless, he despised Romantic poetry of the first generation and modeled his works after classical literature.

From Don Juan

Don Juan is the longest satirical poem in English. By critics of the time it was considered immoral. Byron was of a different opinion, insisting that the poem was a satire on abuses of the present state of society and the most moral of poems. The poem is written in ottava rima (eight lines), an Italian stanza form. The final rhyming couplet contrast with the rest of the stanza, summarizes it and acts as a punch line. The passage is a description of the charming Donna Julia. In the first stanza, the narrator praises her beauty in a very romantic language. However, in the last line he says he hates “a dumpy woman”. These words are quite colloquial and indecorous. They stand in contrast with the rest of the stanza, providing a comic effect. She has a husband who is in his fifties. The narrator suggests, that she should have two younger lovers instead. He blames climate for adultery. He claims that in hot countries having lovers cannot be helped. We can tell that he is not serious, he is only being ironic. Byron's narrator is accepted to be one of the finest comic inventions in English literature. His opinionated monologue ranges over all matter of subjects, exposing the vices of a society far from ideal. His presence is very visible in the poem, he often interrupts the plot. The narrator gives an overall impression of a witty, intelligent, cynical, ironic and rakish person.

Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow romantic description

Bright with intelligence, and fair, and smooth;

Her eyebrow's shape was like th' aerial bow,

Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth,

Mounting at times to a transparent glow,

As if her veins ran lightning; she, in sooth,

Possess'd an air and grace by no means common:

Her stature tall--I hate a dumpy woman. Contrast, comic effect

Wedded she was some years, and to a man

Of fifty, and such husbands are in plenty;

And yet, I think, instead of such a ONE

'T were better to have TWO of five-and-twenty,

Especially in countries near the sun: excusing adultery

And now I think on 't, 'mi vien in mente,'

Ladies even of the most uneasy virtue

Prefer a spouse whose age is short of thirty.

'T is a sad thing, I cannot choose but say,

And all the fault of that indecent sun, excusing adultery cd. - blaming climate

Who cannot leave alone our helpless clay,

But will keep baking, broiling, burning on,

That howsoever people fast and pray,

The flesh is frail, and so the soul undone:

What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, ha, ha.

Is much more common where the climate 's sultry.

She Walks in Beauty

Byron wrote this poem after seeing his cousin for the first time. It opens with an ejambed line. It is a description of a woman of perfect beauty. She combines qualities that normally clash- “dark and bright”. The speaker tells us also about her inner beauty. She is eloquent, calm, kind and pure. In describing her appearance he focuses solely on her face, thus emphasising her innocence. She is an example of a classical link between inner and outer beauty.

She walks in Beauty, like the night enjambment (przerzutnia)
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes: contrasting features
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,
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,
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.

So We'll Go No More A-Roving

A-roving means roaming, walking randomly, but can also have a sexual meaning. It is a melancholic poem marking the end of passion and love. The speaker seems to be weary and resigned. It may possibly have a different meaning- the speaker is matures and he is no longer able to feel such burning desires. Either way, the poem conveys that it is impossible to feel overpowering passion all the time. After a while it fades and dies.

So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night
Though the heart be still as loving
And the moon be still as bright

For the sword outwears the sheath
And the soul wears out the breast passion is tiring
And the heart must pause to breathe
And love itself must rest

Though the night was made for loving
And the day returns too soon
Still we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon

Darkness
This poem was written after volcanic eruptions. It was such a terrifying experience for him that he felt as if it was a dream. The volcanic ash covered the sky, inspiring him to write this poem. It is a dreadful, apocalyptic vision of the world engulfed in darkness. It is a horrifying, dead and empty place. People crave for light so much, that they burn everything. Survivors are distorted, they are famished and degenerated. In darkness they see each other as enemies. Nature is described as murderous (which is against Romantic principles). The world is ruled by personified female Darkness and male War. There is no hope, the prayers are vain, death is inevitable. Eventually, everything dies and only Darkness remains. As to the form, the poem is slow, ponderous. Byron uses intertextuality; we can observe Biblical diction and allusion to Coleridge's `The Rime of the Ancient Mariner'.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires--and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings--the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd, craving for light
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire--but hour by hour
They fell and faded--and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash--and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless--they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more, personified male war
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought--and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails--men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer'd not with a caress--he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects--saw, and shriek'd, and died--
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless-- dead
A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, The Rime of an Ancient Mariner
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge--
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them--She was the Universe.

7. JOHN KEATS

8. MATTHEW ARNOLD

9. LORD ALFRED TENNYSON

10. ROBERT BROWNING (1812-1889)

Browning is best known for his dramatic monologues. I know nothing about him apart from the fact that he was Elizabeth Browning's husband and that he had beard.

Porphyria's Lover

It is a DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE i.e. a kind of verse in which the speaker unveils his true self by his words without even realizing it. When it comes to a dramatic monologue, it is important not to identify the speaker with the author of a poem. The speaker talks about the events of the past evening, which took place in a Romantic landscape, in a hut in the woods, near the lake. Just like in Romantic poetry, we can observe an important role played by nature. Its restlessness creates an ominous atmosphere and gives us a premonition that something terrible happened on that night. The lover of the speaker arrived. Porphyria was a woman against Victorian conventions: she looked very Pre-raphaelitan and she did not wait for the man to make the first move, but was seductive, emancipated and acted of her own accord. The speaker- conversely, he did not take any action. He also did not like the fact that she was so forward. His perception of a woman seems to be Victorian. The lovers met secretly in this hut because her family was against their relationship. He blamed her for that, for not giving herself to him completely. At the same time, he was happy because he knew that she loved him. He believed that a sexual intercourse would mar her. He wanted her to remain as pure and as infatuated with him as she was forever. So, after a moment of hesitation, he strangled her to preserve her beauty. Now he sits with a corpse in his arms and thinks that Porphyria must be happy that he killed her. As the story develops, the tension grows and it becomes more and more clear that the speaker is insane. He is madly jealous and possessive of Porphyria, that is why he kills her. He believes that if he had not killed her, she would leave him eventually. He is also a cruel hypocrite. He is convinced that she did not feel pain when he was strangling her, even though he cannot really know that for sure. Also, we can observe his despotic nature when he does not accept Porphyria's embrace because he wants to be the one embracing instead. He feels the need to be the one controlling the situation. In the last line the speaker notes that God did not react to his crime at all. We could speculate: Is it because God does not care about it? Maybe the murderer thinks that what he did was righteous and God is on his side. There is also a possibility that he would like God to react somehow. Browning's poems are a unique study of distorted people's minds. They give us an opportunity to try to understand their thinking.

The rain set early in tonight, 
The sullen wind was soon awake, 
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,  nature- Romantic element
And did its worst to vex the lake: 
I listened with heart fit to break. 
When glided in Porphyria; straight 
She shut the cold out and the storm, 
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate 
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm; 
Which done, she rose, and from her form 
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, 
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied 
Her hat and let the damp hair fall, 
And, last, she sat down by my side 
And called me. When no voice replied, 
She put my arm about her waist emancipated, non-Victorian Porphyria, , 
And made her smooth white shoulder bare, 
And all her yellow hair displaced, 
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, 
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair, 
Murmuring how she loved me--she 
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,  He blames her
To set its struggling passion free 
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,  vainer ties- family
And give herself to me forever. 
But passion sometimes would prevail, 
Nor could tonight's gay feast restrain 
A sudden thought of one so pale 
For love of her, and all in vain: 
So, she was come through wind and rain. 
Be sure I looked up at her eyes 
Happy and proud; at last I knew 
Porphyria worshiped me: surprise 
Made my heart swell, and still it grew 
While I debated what to do. 
That moment she was mine, mine, fair, 
Perfectly pure and good: I found  wants her to be his foreva, pure foreva
A thing to do, and all her hair 
In one long yellow string I wound 
Three times her little throat around, 
And strangled her. No pain felt she;  cruel hypocrite
I am quite sure she felt no pain. 
As a shut bud that holds a bee, 
I warily oped her lids: again 
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain. 
And I untightened next the tress 
About her neck; her cheek once more 
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss: 
I propped her head up as before 
Only, this time my shoulder bore 
Her head, which droops upon it still:  he's the one controlling
The smiling rosy little head, 
So glad it has its utmost will, 
That all it scorned at once is fled, 
And I, its love, am gained instead! 
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how 
Her darling one wish would be heard.  He thinks she is grateful and happy
And thus we sit together now, 
And all night long we have not stirred, 
And yet God has not said a word! Why did God not react?

My Last Duchess

It is a DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE i.e. a kind of verse in which the speaker unveils his true self by his words without even realizing it. When it comes to a dramatic monologue, it is important not to identify the speaker with the author of a poem. In “My Last Duchess”, Browning projects himself onto the figure of Alfonso II, Duke of Ferrara, who in 1564 is negotiating a marriage agreement for the hand of the niece of a Tyrolese Count. He describes the portrait of his late wife (who had died in 1561, at 17 years of age, of suspected poisoning) by an imaginary artist, Fra' Pandolf. The portrait is an exquisite work of art which looks so real, that a stranger looking at it is puzzled and incredulous. The duke informs him that usually it is hidden behind a curtain and only the duke himself is allowed to reveal it. He does not say that, but it seems obvious that he does not want anyone to look at his wife's beauty because he is jealous of her even after her death. The woman on the portrait is blushing with joy caused probably by some courtesies paid by the painter. Her husband is displeased with her readiness to appreciate anything. He thinks she was too easily impressed. He describes her as a flirtatious, simple girl who would smile all the time. His resentment towards her behaviour is apparent, he could not stand the fact that she did not look only at him and did not smile only at him. She valued some foolish little pleasures more than his ancient lineage. This jealousy or to criticize her. Instead, he chose another solution. He says that he gave commands, which is an understatement meaning that he had her poisoned. His words tell us a lot about his personality. He is jealous, possessive, morally corrupt and proud, but at the same time he seems to be an intelligent man. The listener is a person with whom the duke is about to negotiate the marriage. It is difficult to say if he is aware that he has shown his true face. Possibly, he tells the story as a warning for his future wife.

That's my last duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will't please you sit and look at her? I said
"Frà Pandolf" by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps first sign of resentment
Frà Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps
"Over my lady's wrist too much," or "Paint
"Must never hope to reproduce the faint
"Half-flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart how shall I say? too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favor at her breast, resentment cd.
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men good! but thanked
Somehow I know not how as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech which I have not to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, "Just this
"Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
"Or there exceed the mark" and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and make excuse,
E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose he finds criticising her degrading
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands understatement- he had her posoned
As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master's known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay we'll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

11. THOMAS HARDY (1840-1928)

We all know that he was a Victorian novelist. In his poems he describes feelings of a person who has experienced a crisis of faith.

Hap

The title means “random”, “by chance”.

The speaker begins the poem with describing a hypothetical situation, in which “some vengeful god” would be happy with his sorrow. He would bring people unhappiness by his divine right. The speaker would feel that his miseries were unmerited, but he would bear it. The thought that he was inflicted with pain not without a reason, but by the decision of god, would ease him. At least he would know why he was suffering. However, in reality there is no god meting punishment. The world is ruled by pure chance. Every mishap brought upon people is random. There is no higher reason in our suffering. Also, there is nobody you can blame for your unhappiness. The speaker has difficulty with accepting the misery that is completely unjustified. It is a very depressing poem, because it means that you cannot make your fate. It is impossible to placate randomness, you cannot earn its mercy in any way.

If but some vengeful god would call to me
From up the sky, and laugh: "Thou suffering thing,
Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy,
That thy love's loss is my hate's profiting!"
Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die,
Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited;
Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than I pain has a reason
Had willed and meted me the tears I shed.
But not so. How arrives it joy lies slain, there's no god
And why unblooms the best hope ever sown?
Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain, Epithet describing chance
And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan. . . . Epithet describing chance
These purblind Doomsters had as readily strown Epithet describing chance
Blisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

The Impercipient

An impercipient is someone who does not participate in something. This term describes the speaker of the poem, who is present oat a Cathedral Service. Although he stands there with the congregation, he does not really participate in the mass, he is only an observer. He feels isolated, because he cannot be happy like the others are. He does not experience God's kindness. Emotions of the believers are obscure to him. He is lonely and unhappy. He believes he does not deserve condemnation, but rather pity, because he cannot put his heart at ease. He compares himself to a bird without wings. The bird does not choose not to fly, and he does not choose not to believe. It happens against their will and they cannot help it.

(at a Cathedral Service)

THAT from this bright believing band
An outcast I should be, although he is with everybody he feels isolated
That faiths by which my comrades stand
Seem fantasies to me,
And mirage-mists their Shining Land,
Is a drear destiny.
Why thus my soul should be consigned
To infelicity,
Why always I must feel as blind
To sights my brethren see,
Why joys they've found I cannot find,
Abides a mystery.
Since heart of mine knows not that ease
Which they know; since it be
That He who breathes All's Well to these
Breathes no All's Well to me,
My lack might move their sympathies
And Christian charity! People should not condemn him for being an atheist
I am like a gazer who should mark
An inland company
Standing upfingered, with, "Hark! hark!
The glorious distant sea!"
And feel, "Alas, 'tis but yon dark
And wind-swept pine to me!"
Yet I would bear my shortcomings
With meet tranquillity,
But for the charge that blessed things
I'd liefer have unbe.
O, doth a bird deprived of wings
Go earth-bound wilfully! Does not choose not to fly
. . . .
Enough. As yet disquiet clings
About us. Rest shall we.

12. WILFRED OWEN (killed on Armistice Day 1919)

The poetry of I WW is a reflection of an important change of attitude towards war. In earlier ages, being a soldier meant an opportunity to gain fame and glory. Death on a battlefield was seen as an honour. This patriotic attitude was generally very unrealistic. Owen is one of the I WW poets. Being a soldier himself, he could see and describe what a war really looks like. He died at a young age, leaving a number of poems concerning the sufferings of war. He himself stated that his poetry is only a truthful relation of war which purpose is to warn future generations.

Dulce et Decorum Est

The title of the poem comes from the Latin poet Horace's line: “Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” (it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country). The title is ironic, as the poem shows exactly the opposite The poem is about soldiers retreating from a battlefield. It is a first-hand account, the speaker is one of them. In the first stanza, he depicts them using terms (e.g. “beggars”, “hags”) that give away their exhaustion, worn off clothes, destitution, misery, emaciation. They are probably so-called “canon fodder”. Unimportant, ordinary soldiers who die in great numbers. They are so tired that they have grown indifferent to everything. They do not see or hear what is happening around them. They are past the point of caring. Their feet are covered with blood, so they walk slowly, limping. At the beginning of the second stanza, the situation changes. A gas bomb (Five-Nine) is dropped, therefore they are stirred, they retrieve their senses. Everyone except one manage to put their gas masks on. The unfortunate soldier dies in a great pain. His sufferings are described in detail to emphasise the ugliness of his death. In the last stanza the speaker addresses people who teach others that war is something glorious and beautiful. He tells them not to fill young people's heads with those lies. He tells the story right from the battlefield to show the true nature of war, its ugliness and dreadfulness. His aim is to refute the idea of a triumphant, dignified war. Because the author took part in war, we can expect that what he says is truthful and his warnings are not exaggerated.

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots indifferent

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas bombs left behind

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling did not put on his gas mask in time

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime…

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues. - vivid vision of suffering

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory, young and naive

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est war is not beautiful

Pro patria mori.

13. WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS (1865-1939)

He was a popular Irish poet. His poetry could be divided into stages: at first, he wrote romantic verses about love, but then his poems took a more philosophical turn. He was interested in magic, occult, spiritualism.

The Second Coming

The poem alludes to the Bible. The First Coming, which took place 2000 years ago is called INCARNATION. The Second Coming will take place at the end of the world, and was depicted in Apocalypse by St. John. The speaker in this poem describes his own vision of the Doomsday. In the first stanza, he depicts the end of the world. According to him, it will take place when mankind will no longer listen to God. Everything will fall apart, disintegrate into chaos. There will be a tide of crime and wars. This may be an allusion to the I World War or to the Bolschevic Revolution in Russia, and the fear that it will engulf the whole Europe. The second stanza has one particular image in focus. The vision of a beast with lion body and the head of a man (so, basically in a shape of sphinx), which means that it has intellect of a man and power of an animal. It goes to Bethlehem to be born. It is a twisted version of the Second Coming. Instead of Christ, a beast will come to take His place. It turns out that Jesus did not conquer death, His victory over it was temporary. The beast will replace Christ in Bethlehem because He will be replaced in people's hearts. He will lose because there will be no one to believe in Him. The poem treats about the Catholicism losing its power. The author uses figurative language which evokes vivid pictures in the mind of a reader. It creates ominous, menacing atmosphere and makes a reader dread future.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer; mankind don't listen to God

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; disintegration

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity. War? Bolschevic Revolution?

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;

A shape with lion body and the head of a man, intelligence of a man, power of an animal

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep death awakens again-

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, it was not defeated by Christ

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Leda and the Swan

This poem is a sonnet. The form is ironic, because sonnets are usually written about romantic love, and this one is about rape. It alludes to the myth about Leda, who was raped by Zeus, who took the shape of a swan. Although it is very possible that the reader does not know this story, Yeats did not introduce it in any way. Its beginning is sudden and abrupt, we are thrown in the middle of the situation. This way, the reader might understand better the confusion of the attacked girl. The author divided the first two stanzas into a number of short sentences rendering the scene even more dynamic. The language used to describe the rape is very lyrical, but, paradoxically, very accurate. It evokes imagination, so this situation and the emotions of the girl seem very real. There is a contrast between the way Zeus and Leda are described. She is depicted as a weak being, whereas his power is emphasized. In the third stanza, there is made a prediction about future consequences of this rape. As a result of Zeus's ejaculation, Helen of Troy will be born, which will cause destruction of Troy, and even the death of Agamemnon, although he did not die during Troy War. A chain of unfortunate events will follow this rape. Zeus is a god, he probably knows what is going to happen. However, he does not care that his actions bring misery upon people. He is indifferent to their sufferings. He is only interested in getting what he wants. She does not know what future will bring-she is only a victim in the hand of the god. This powerlessness in fighting gods does not only apply to myths. It is a universal feeling experienced by the whole mankind.

A sudden blow: the great wings beating still the poem begins with no intro

Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed

By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,

He holds her helpless breast upon his breast. She is weak

How can those terrified vague fingers push

The feathered glory from her loosening thighs? He is powerful

And how can body, laid in that white rush,

But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?

A shudder in the loins engenders there ejaculation

The broken wall, the burning roof and tower destruction of Troy

And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up,

So mastered by the brute blood of the air,

Did she put on his knowledge with his power he knows the future

Before the indifferent beak could let her drop? He does not know

14. THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT (1888-1965)

He was born in USA, but then he settled in Britain, therefore he is usually considered to be a representative of English literature. He received the Noble Prize for literature in 1948. He is probably the most influential poet of the twentieth century in Britain.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

J. Alfred Prufrock is the speaker of this poem. He is a stiff, boring, man. His love song is very unusual. Instead of romantic setting, there is a picture of ordinary, trivial, cheap life of London. He does not even speak about love. The metaphors used by the author are shockingly unlyrical. There is no lover- Prufrock is rather afraid of women. The love song is as unromantic as the speaker. Also the person to whom Prufrock is talking is very difficult to define. He may be referring to the reader, or to a nonexistent, imagined lover, or maybe he is so lonely that he is talking to himself. The musical, monotonous rhythm of the verse mesmerises the reader. Because of the swift, rapid attention shifts, the poem seems to lack organisation and logic. However, while analysing Eliot's works we should not seek any order, what is most important is the world created by the author and its specific imagery. Eliot was inspired a lot by other literary works. The third stanza resembles the Bible; to be more precise- the Book of Ecclesiastes. However, the natural order of life is nonexistent in this poem, the time flows differently. The speaker enumerates things that might happen, but it does not seem that they ever will. He only thinks about possibilities, but he does not intend to act. He is just procrastinating everything because he thinks that he still has time. He dares himself to make an important decision that would change his life. He repeatedly asks himself the question: “do I dare?”. He is in a state of indecision, he lacks the courage to do anything but asking. He is a self-conscious man. He thinks that everyone laugh at him. He is lacking self-confidence. That is why he is lonely and uncomfortable around people. That is why he cannot make any crucial decision. He is dissatisfied with his life, he is tired of routine. Nevertheless, he will not do anything.

Let us go then, you and I, who is `you'?

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherised upon a table; shockingly unlyrical

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels one-night relationship=sex

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question…

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo. Kind of chorus in the song

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from the chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house and fell asleep. Fog compared to a cat

And indeed there will be time the book of ecclesiastes

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; pretences, showing people a mask

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions, indecisive

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare? and, “Do I dare?” repeating the question

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair-

(They will say: ”How his hair is growing thin!”) self-conscious

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin-

( They will say: “but how his arms and legs are thin!”)

Do I dare

Disturb the universe? Do I dare make a crucial decision?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all-

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; routine (dr Baranek's favourite line)

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?

15. PHILIP LARKIN (1922-1985)

A contemporary poet, obsessed with death, embittered, cynical (pathetic).

This Be the Verse

The poem is a bitter, but also witty commentary on parenthood. According to the speaker, parents “fuck up” their children. It means that they ruin children, they make them defective, but at the same time the phrase describes the act of sexual intercourse which results in conception. In the poem it is stated that this handing on faults has been going on for long and the situation is becoming worse with every generation. The speaker gives a solution to this problem- to die as early as you can and not to have any children. This way you can save them from unhappiness. Apparently, the speaker thinks that his parents are at fault for all of his shortcomings although there are other factors that influence one's life. It seems that he is trying to find someone to blame for his failures. He is an intelligent man, but too embittered by life to understand disadvantages of his idea.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad. Two meanings

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don't have any kids yourself. A solution

Talking in Bed

Although it is not said directly anywhere in the poem, talking in bed refers to conversations which the speaker has after having sex. It seems that it is a very intimate moment between the lovers and it should be easy to find appropriate words. However, the speaker feels that it becomes more and more difficult for him not to remain silent. There is a growing tension in the poem between how things should be and how they really are. The moment should be intimate, but it is not. They should be talking, but they are not. They should be honest, but they lie because they do not want to hurt each other. Even the phrase “lying together” could be ironic, it may not mean lying in a horizontal position, but telling lies. The outside world depicted in the poem is completely indifferent to the problems of those two. This creates a sense of isolation, they are neglected by the world. Also their relationship is coming apart. Even though their bodies united, their souls are distant. It seems that even despite lying together they are lonely. It is a very sad and bitter vision of the relationship which is fading away and involves people who feel ever incomplete.

Talking in bed ought to be easiest

Lying together there goes back so far could be ironic

An emblem of two people being honest.

Yet more and more time passes silently. growing apart

Outside the wind's incomplete unrest

Builds and disperses clouds about the sky.

And dark towns heap up on the horizon.

None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why indifferent world

At this unique distance from isolation

It becomes still more difficult to find

Words at once true and kind

Or not untrue and not unkind. True=unkind, untrue=kind

Aubade

The title is a name for a song of two lovers sang at dawn. However, there is only one speaker in this poem- a person who wakes up at four a.m. and becomes engrossed in the thoughts about death. It seems that death is his lover. He wonders when and how he will die, but it is a pointless speculation because he cannot know the answers and the fact that he thinks about it will not change anything. He will die either way. What scares him about death is not the fact that he had wasted his life and will have no chance to fix it, but the awareness that he will disappear. The speaker believes that there is nothing after our life. He is an atheist and he thinks that religion is only a lie to make people feel better. He says that religion “used to” comfort people, but it does not anymore because people stopped believing. He also discredits “rational beings”, i.e. epicureans who say that when the death comes we are no more so there is nothing to fear. However, the fact that he will not be is what the speaker fears most. He is afraid that he will no longer feel or think. This awareness of death is always with him, as well as with all people. It affects our lives, everything seems pointless because we will die anyway. We try to forget about death by staying near other people or by drinking (the speaker also gets drunk every night). Some people think that if they will not be afraid of death, they will pass away in dignity. The speaker says that death is the same for everyone, no matter how you face it. This belief reminds of dance macabre- in death all people are equal. In the last stanza, darkness behind the speaker's window starts to fade away. The furniture in the room takes shape, which brings realization that mortality only concerns people, the objects will remain and will be used by someone else. In the morning, postmen go from house to house. For the speaker they are just like doctors, who come too late and only to say that someone is dead. Postmen, similarly, spread around letters informing that a person is dead. The atmosphere of this poem is very morbid, the speaker is obsessed with death and has nothing that would bring him comfort. He forces the reader to realize that we are all mortal and we cannot escape death.

I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Getting drunk to forget

Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. insomnia

In time the curtain-edges will grow light.

Till then I see what's really always there:

Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,

Making all thought impossible but how

And where and when I shall myself die.

Arid interrogation: yet the dread pointless asking

Of dying, and being dead,

Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.

The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse he doesn't regret his past

- The good not done, the love not given, time

Torn off unused- nor wretchedly because

An only life can take so long to climb

Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;

But at the total emptiness for ever,

The sure extinction that we travel to

And shall be lost in always. Not to be here, how he sees death

Not to be anywhere,

And soon; Nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

This is a special way of being afraid

No trick dispels. Religion used to try, people don't believe anymore

That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade

Created to pretend we never die, religion is a lie

And specious stuff that says No rational being

Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing philosophers- epicureans (a lie)

That this is what we fear- no sight, no sound,

No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,

Nothing to love or link with,

The anasthetic from which none come round.

And so it stays just on the edge of vision, we are always aware of death

A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill

That slows each impulse down to indecision.

Most things may never happen: this one will,

And realisation of it rages out

In furnace-fear when we are caught without

People or drink. Courage is no good: our means to forget

It means not scaring others. Being brave

Lets no one off the grave. Being brave is pointless

Death is no different whined at than withstood. Dance macabre

Slowly light strengthens and the room takes shape.

It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,

Have always known, know that we can't escape

Yet can't accept. One side will have to go. One side= mortals, as opposed to objects

Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring

In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring

Intricate rented world begins to rouse. We're only here temporarily

The sky is white as clay, with no sun.

Work has to be done.

Postmen like doctors go from house to house. Bringing bad news

19

sth old has to be destroyed so that sth new can be born

he wants to be as free as he was when he was younger → it depresses him, because he is not as free as the wind

a romantic poet

Aolian Harp - instrument touched only by the wind → a poet thinks of himself as being sth like this (he is an instrument and wind touches him)

PNEUMA - wind, spirit; it could represent inspiration, freedom, it's incredibly powerful (like God)

wind - spirit

prophecy - liberation from kings and priests →everlasting brotherhood with men (Shelley był za takim liberation, taki rebel z niego był)

it's uplifting - there's sth to look forward

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