Romantic Medicine and John Keats
Oxford University Press, 1990 M11 15 - 432 páginas
Using original research in scientific treatises, philosophical manuscripts, and political documents, this pioneering study describes the neglected era of revolutionary medicine in Europe through the writings of the English poet and physician, John Keats. De Almeida explores the four primary concerns of Romantic medicine--the physician's task, the meaning of life, the prescription of disease and health, and the evolution of matter and mind--and reveals their expression in Keats's poetry and thought. By delineating a distinct but unknown era in the history of medicine, charting the poet's milieu within this age, and providing close reading of his poems in these contexts, Romantic Medicine and John Keats illustrates the interdisciplinary bonds between the two healing arts of the Romantic period: medicine and poetry.
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Abernethy Anatomy Anatomy of Melancholy animal Apollo artistic Astley Cooper beauty blood body brain Buffon clinical Coleridge Coleridge's concept consciousness contemporary creatures death disease dream early nineteenth century Elgin Marbles Endymion energy Erasmus Darwin Everard Home evolution evolutionary evolutionists eyes Fall of Hyperion feel fever flowers force fresh perfection genius Grecian urn Guy's Hospital Hazlitt healing Hermes honey human Humboldt Hyperion poems imagination immortal intensity Isabella John Hunter John Keats Keats's Keats's poetry Keatsian knowledge Lamia Lectures Lemprière Letters living London lovers Lycius manifest marble mechanistic melancholy mind mortal nature Naturphilosophie negative capability notion Orfila organic pain perception pharmakon Philosophical physical physiology plants poem poet poet's poetic poison practice principle Romantic medicine Romantic physician Samuel Taylor Coleridge Saturn sense serpent signs snake species speculations substance surgeons sweet symptoms theory tion Titans University Press urn's venom vision vital vols William wolfsbane
Página 317 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Página 314 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume...
Página 312 - Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Página 118 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: 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, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Página 131 - 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 drest?
Página 51 - If the labours of Men of science should ever create any material revolution, direct or indirect, in our condition, and in the impressions which we habitually receive...
Página 155 - While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd, With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon, Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez, and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
Página 291 - O fret not after knowledge — I have none, And yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge — I have none, And yet the Evening listens. He who saddens At thought of idleness cannot be idle, And he's awake who thinks himself asleep.
Página 130 - Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Página 91 - This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb...
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