Victorian Keats and Romantic Carlyle: The Fusions and Confusions of Literary Periods
Both John Keats and Thomas Carlyle were born in 1795, but one rarely thinks of them together. When one does, curious speculations result. It is difficult to think of Carlyle as a young Romantic or of Keats as a Victorian Sage, but had Carlyle died prematurely and had Keats lived to a ripe old age, we might now be considering a Romantic Carlyle and a Victorian Keats. Such a juxtaposition leads one to consider the use and abuse, the fusions and confusions, of period terms in literary history and in criticism. Does Carlyle represent Romanticism as typically as Keats? Does Keats's work give us any cause to believe that he might have developed into a Victorian poet? Do the terms Romanticism and Victorian have any useful literary historical and literary critical value? What are the marks of the transition from one to the other? Or is the existence of such a transition an illusion? In this volume, some essays consider aspects of Keats or of Carlyle independently, or together, or focus on contemporaries of one or other or of both and explore the effect of their literary and ideological relationships, and the often indefinable sense that we all have of different styles, manners and periods, as well as the awareness that we might all be equally deceived about such distinctive boundaries and definitions.
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Judith van Oosterom
Douglas S Mack
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Página 16 - O born in days when wits were fresh and clear, And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames ; Before this strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims...
Página 38 - For such is the nature of men, that howsoever they may acknowledge many others to be more witty, or more eloquent, or more learned; yet they will hardly believe there be many so wise as themselves; for they see their own wit at hand, and other men's at a distance.
Página 98 - You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; "They called me the hyacinth girl." — Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Oed
Página 113 - ... in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing...
Página 97 - She turned away, but with the autumn weather Compelled my imagination many days, Many days and many hours: Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.
Página 13 - 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...
Página 81 - Of old romance. These let us wish away, And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there, Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, On love, and winged St. Agnes' saintly care, As she had heard old dames full many times declare. They told her how, upon St. Agnes...
Página 106 - The good man, he was now getting old, towards sixty perhaps ; and gave you the idea of a life that had been full of sufferings ; a life heavy-laden, half-vanquished, still swimming painfully in seas of manifold physical and other bewilderment. Brow and head were round, and of massive weight, but the face was flabby and irresolute. The deep eyes, of a light hazel, were as full of sorrow as of inspiration ; confused pain looked mildly from them, as in a kind of mild astonishment.
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Nervous Reactions: Victorian Recollections of Romanticism
Joel Faflak,Julia M. Wright
Vista previa limitada - 2004