English/British Literature Flashcards
O soft embalmer of the still midnight, Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,Or wait the “Amen,” ere thy poppy throws Around my bed its lulling charities.Then save me, or the passed day will shineUpon my pillow, breeding many woes,— Save me from curious Conscience, that still lordsIts strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
To Sleep
B Y J O H N K E A T S
And what is love? It is a doll dress’d up
For idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;
A thing of soft misnomers, so divine
That silly youth doth think to make itself
Divine by loving, and so goes on
Yawning and doting a whole summer long,
Till Miss’s comb is made a pearl tiara,
And common Wellingtons turn Romeo boots;
Then Cleopatra lives at number seven,
And Antony resides in Brunswick Square.
Fools! if some passions high have warm’d the world,
If Queens and Soldiers have play’d deep for hearts,
It is no reason why such agonies
Should be more common than the growth of weeds.
Fools! make me whole again that weighty pearl
The Queen of Egypt melted, and I’ll say
That ye may love in spite of beaver hats.
Modern Love
John Keats
O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!
Leave melodizing on this wintry day,
Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute:
Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute,
Betwixt damnation and impassion’d clay
Must I burn through; once more humbly assay
The bitter-sweet of this Shakespearian fruit.
Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion,
Begetters of our deep eternal theme,
When through the old oak forest I am gone,
Let me not wander in a barren dream,
But when I am consumed in the fire,
Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire.
On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again
BY JOHN KEATS
My spirit is too weak—mortality
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagined pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick eagle looking at the sky.
Yet ’tis a gentle luxury to weep
That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
Fresh for the opening of the morning’s eye.
Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
Bring round the heart an undescribable feud;
So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
Wasting of old time—with a billowy main—
A sun—a shadow of a magnitude.
On Seeing the Elgin Marbles
BY JOHN KEATS
Always the one alone longs for mercy,
the Maker’s mildness, though, troubled in mind,
across the ocean-ways he has long been forced
to stir with his hands the frost-cold sea,
and walk in exile’s paths. Wyrd is fully fixed! (1)
Thus spoke the Wanderer, mindful of troubles,
of cruel slaughters and the fall of dear kinsmen: (2)
“Often alone, every first light of dawn,
I have lamented my sorrows. There is no one living
to whom I would dare to reveal clearly
my deepest thoughts. I know it is true
that it is in the lordly nature of a nobleman
to closely bind his spirit’s coffer,
hold his treasure-hoard, whatever he may think.
The weary mind cannot withstand wyrd,
the troubled heart can offer no help,
and so those eager for fame often bind fast
in their breast-coffers a sorrowing soul,
just as I have had to take my own heart —
often wretched, cut off from my homeland,
far from dear kinsmen — and bind it in fetters,
ever since long ago I hid my gold-giving friend
in the darkness of earth, and went wretched,
winter-sad, over the binding waves,
sought, hall-sick, a treasure-giver,
wherever I might find, far or near,
someone in a meadhall who knew of my people,
or who’d want to comfort me, friendless,
accustom me to joy. He who has come to know
how cruel a companion is sorrow
to one who has few dear protectors, will understand this:
the path of exile claims him, not patterned gold,
a winter-bound spirit, not the wealth of earth.
He remembers hall-holders and treasure-taking,
how in his youth his gold-giving lord
accustomed him to the feast—that joy has all faded.
And so he who has long been forced to forego
his dear lord’s beloved words of counsel will understand:
when sorrow and sleep both together
often bind up the wretched exile,
it seems in his mind that he clasps and kisses
his lord of men, and on his knee lays
hands and head, as he sometimes long ago
in earlier days enjoyed the gift-throne. (3)
But when the friendless man awakens again
and sees before him the fallow waves,
seabirds bathing, spreading their feathers,
frost falling and snow, mingled with hail,
then the heart’s wounds are that much heavier,
pain after pleasure. Sorrow is renewe
when the memory of kinsmen flies through the mind; (4)
he greets them with great joy, greedily surveys
hall-companions — they always swim away;
the floating spirits bring too few
well-known voices. Cares are renewed
for one who must send, over and over,
a weary heart across the binding of the waves. (5)
And so I cannot imagine for all this world
why my spirit should not grow dark
when I think through all this life of men,
how they suddenly gave up the hall-floor,
mighty young retainers. Thus this middle-earth
droops and decays every single day;
and so a man cannot become wise, before he has weathered
his share of winters in this world. A wise man must be patient,
neither too hot-hearted nor too hasty with words,
nor too weak in war nor too unwise in thoughts,
neither fretting nor frivolous nor greedy for wealth,
never eager for boasting before he truly understands;
a man must wait, when he makes a boast,
until the brave spirit understands truly
reflects one commonly-proposed reading.
whither the thoughts of his heart will turn.
The wise man must realize how ghostly it will be
when all the wealth of this world stands waste,
as now here and there throughout this middle-earth
walls stand blasted by wind,
beaten by frost, the buildings crumbling.
The wine halls topple, their rulers lie
deprived of all joys; the proud old troops
all fell by the wall. War carried off some,
sent them on the way, one a bird carried off
over the high seas, one the gray wolf
shared with death—and one a sad-faced man
covered in an earthen grave. The Creator
of men thus wrecked this enclosure,
until the old works of giants stood empty,
without the sounds of their former citizens. (6)
He who deeply considers, with wise thoughts,
this foundation and this dark life,
old in spirit, often remembers
so many ancient slaughters, and says these words:
‘Where has the horse gone? where is the rider? where is the giver of gold?
Where are the seats of the feast? where are the joys of the hall?
O the bright cup! O the brave warrior!
O the glory of princes! How the time passed away,
slipped into nightfall as if it had never been!’
There still stands in the path of the dear warriors
a wall wondrously high, with serpentine stains.
A torrent of spears took away the warriors,
bloodthirsty weapons, wyrd the mighty,
and storms batter these stone walls,
frost falling binds up the earth,
the howl of winter, when blackness comes,
night’s shadow looms, sends down from the north
harsh hailstones in hatred of men.
All is toilsome in the earthly kingdom,
the working of wyrd changes the world under heaven.
Here wealth is fleeting, here friends are fleeting,
here man is fleeting, here woman is fleeting,
all the framework of this earth will stand empty.”
So said the wise one in his mind, sitting apart in meditation.
He is good who keeps his word, (7) and the man who never too quickly
shows the anger in his breast, unless he already knows the remedy,
how a nobleman can bravely bring it about. It will be well for one who seeks mercy,
consolation from the Father in heaven, where for us all stability stands.
The Wanderer
Exeter Book Elegies
I wrack this riddle about myself full miserable, my very own experience. I can speak it— what I endured in misery, after I was grown, both new and old, none greater than now. Always I suffered the torment of my wracked ways. (ll. 1-5)
My lord departed at first, from his tribe here over the tossing of waves— I watched a sorrow at dawn wondering where in these lands my chieftain might be. Then I departed myself to venture, seeking his followers, a friendless wayfarer out of woeful need. (ll. 6-10)
They insinuated, the kinsmen of that man,
by secret thought, to separate us two
so that we two, widest apart in the worldly realm,
should live most hatefully—and it harrowed me. (ll. 11-14)
My lord ordered me to take this grove
for a home — very few dear to me
in this land, almost no loyal friends. (ll. 15-17a)
Therefore my mind so miserable —
than I met a well-suited man for myself
so misfortunate and mind-sorrowing,
thought kept close, plotting a crime. (17b-20)
Keeping cheery, we vowed quite often
that none but death could separate us. (21-23a)
That soon changed…
it’s now as if it had never been —
our friendship. I must, far and near,
endure the feuding of my dearly beloved. (ll. 23b-26)
My husband ordered me anchored in a woody grove, under an oak-tree within this earthen cave. Ancient is the earth-hall: I am entirely longing— (27-29)
Dark are the valleys, the mountains so lofty,
bitter these hovels, overgrown with thorns.
Shelters without joy. So many times here
the disappearance of my husband
seizes me with a stewing. (ll. 30-33a)
All my friends dwell in the dirt, I loved them while they lived, now guarding their graves, when I go forth alone in the darkness of daybreak under the oak-tree outside this hollowed earth. (ll. 33b-36)
There I may sit a summer-long day, where I can weep for my exiled path, my many miseries—therefore I can never rest from these my mind’s sorrowings, not from all these longings that seize me in my living. (ll. 37-41)
A young man must always be sad at heart,
hard in the thoughts inside,
also he must keep a happy bearing —
but also breast-cares, suffering never-ending grief— (ll. 42-45a)
May he depend only upon himself
for all his worldly pleasures.
May he be stained with guilt far and wide,
throughout the lands of distant folk,
so that my once-friend should sit under the stony cliffs,
rimed by storms, my weary-minded ally,
flowed around by waters in his dreary hall. (ll. 42-50a)
My former companion may know a great mind-sorrow—
remembering too often his joyful home. (ll. 50b-52a)
Woe be to that one who must
wait for their beloved with longing. (ll. 52b-53)
The Wife’s Lament
Exeter Book Elegies
What I wish to say of the best of dreams,
what came to me in the middle of the night
after the speech-bearers lie biding their rest! (1-3)
It seemed to me that I saw the greatest tree
brought into the sky, bewound in light,
the brightest of beams. That beacon was entirely
garnished with gold. Gemstones
prominent and proud at the corners of the earth—
five more as well blazoned across the span of its shoulders.
Every angel of the Lord warded it there,
a brilliant sight of a universe to come.
Surely it was no longer the gallows of vile crime
in that place—yet there they kept close watch,
holy spirits for all humanity across the earth,
and every part of this widely famous creation. (4-12)
Surpassing was this victory-tree, and me splattered with sins—
struck through with fault. I saw this tree of glory,
well-worthied in its dressing, shining in delights,
geared with gold. Gemstones had
nobly endowed the Sovereign’s tree.
Nevertheless I could perceive through all that gold
a wretched and ancient struggle, where it first started
to sweat blood on its right side. I was entirely perturbed with sorrows—
I was fearful for that lovely sight.
Then I saw that streaking beacon warp its hue, its hangings —
at times it was steamy with bloody wet, stained with coursing gore,
at other times it was glistening with treasure. (13-23)
Yet I, lying there for a long while,
beheld sorrow-chary the tree of the Savior
until I heard that it was speaking.
Then the best of wood said in words: (24-27)
“It happened long ago—I remember it still—
I was hewn down at the holt’s end
stirred from my stock. Strong foes seized me there,
worked in me an awful spectacle, ordered me to heave up their criminals.
Those warriors bore me on their shoulders
until they set me down upon a mountain.
Enemies enough fastened me there.
I saw then the Lord of Mankind
hasten with much courage, willing to mount up upon me. (28-34)
“There I dared not go beyond the Lord’s word
to bow or burst apart—then I saw the corners of the earth
tremor—I could have felled all those foemen,
nevertheless I stood fast. (35-38)
“The young warrior stripped himself then—that was God Almighty—
strong and firm of purpose—he climbed up onto the high gallows,
magnificent in the sight of many. Then he wished to redeem mankind.
I quaked when the warrior embraced me—
yet I dared not bow to the ground, collapse
to earthly regions, but I had to stand there firm.
The rood was reared. I heaved the mighty king,
the Lord of Heaven—I dared not topple or reel. (39-45)
“They skewered me with dark nails, wounds easily seen upon me,
treacherous strokes yawning open. I dared injure none of them.
They shamed us both together. I was besplattered with blood,
sluicing out from the man’s side, after launching forth his soul. (46-49)
“Many vicious deeds have I endured on that hill—
I saw the God of Hosts racked in agony.
Darkness had covered over with clouds
the corpse of the Sovereign, shadows oppressed
the brightest splendor, black under breakers.
All of creation wept, mourning the king’s fall—
Christ was upon the cross. (50-56)
“However people came hurrying from afar
there to that noble man. I witnessed it all.
I was sorely pained with sorrows—yet I sank down
to the hands of those men, humble-minded with much courage.
They took up there Almighty God, lifting up him up
from that ponderous torment. Those war-men left me
to stand, dripping with blood—I was entirely wounded with arrows.
They laid down the limb-weary there, standing at the head of his corpse,
beholding there the Lord of Heaven, and he rested there awhile,
exhausted after those mighty tortures. (57-65a)
“Then they wrought him an earthen hall,
the warriors within sight of his killer. They carved it from the brightest stone,
setting therein the Wielder of Victories. Then they began to sing a mournful song,
miserable in the eventide, after they wished to venture forth,
weary, from the famous Prince. He rested there with a meager host. (65b-69)
“However, weeping there, we lingered a good while in that place,
after the voices of war-men had departed.
The corpse cooled, the fair hall of the spirit.
Then someone felled us both, entirely to the earth.
That was a terrifying event! Someone buried us in a deep pit.
Nevertheless, allies, thanes of the Lord, found me there
and wrapped me up in gold and in silver. (70-77)
“Now you could hear, my dear man,
that I have outlasted the deeds of the baleful,
of painful sorrows. Now the time has come
that men across the earth, broad and wide,
and all this famous creation worthy me,
praying to this beacon. On me the Child of God
suffered awhile. Therefore I triumphant
now tower under the heavens, able to heal
any one of them, those who stand in terror of me.
Long ago I was made into the hardest of torments,
most hateful to men, until I made roomy
the righteous way of life for them,
for those bearing speech. Listen—
the Lord of Glory honored me then
over all forested trees, the Warden of Heaven’s Realm!
Likewise Almighty God exalted his own mother,
Mary herself, before all humanity,
over all the kindred of women. (78-94)
“Now I bid you, my dear man,
to speak of this vision to all men
unwrap it wordfully, that it is the Tree of Glory,
that the Almighty God suffered upon
for the sake of the manifold sins of mankind,
and the ancient deeds of Adam.
Death he tasted there, yet the Lord arose
amid his mighty power, as a help to men.
Then he mounted up into heaven. Hither he will come again,
into this middle-earth, seeking mankind
on the Day of Doom, the Lord himself,
Almighty God, and his angels with him,
wishing to judge them then—he that holds the right to judge
every one of them—upon their deserts
as they have earned previously here in this life. (95-109)
“Nor can any remain unafraid there
before that word that the Wielder will speak.
He will ask before the multitude where that man may be,
who wished to taste in the Lord’s name
the bitterness of death, as he did before on the Cross.
Yet they will fear him then, and few will think
what they should begin to say unto Christ.
There will be no need to be afraid there at that moment
for those who already bear in their breast the best of signs,
yet every soul ought to seek through the Rood
the holy realm from the ways of earth—
those who intend to dwell with their Sovereign.” (110-21)
I prayed to that tree with a blissful heart,
great courage, where I was alone,
with a meager host. My heart’s close was
eager for the forth-way, suffering many
moments of longing. Now my hope for life
is that I am allowed to seek that victorious tree,
more often lonely than all other men,
to worthy it well. The desire to do so
is strong in my heart, and my guardian
is righteous in the Rood. I am not wealthy
with many friends on this earth,
yet they departed from here from the joys of the world,
seeking the King of Glory—now they live
in heaven with the High-Father, dwelling in magnificence,
and I hope for myself upon each and every day
for that moment when the Rood of the Lord,
that I espied here upon the earth,
shall ferry me from this loaned life
and bring me then where there is great bliss,
joys in heaven, where there are the people of the Lord,
seated at the feast, where there is everlasting happiness
and seat me where I will be allowed afterwards
to dwell in glory, brooking joys well amid the sainted.
May the Lord be my friend, who suffered before
here on earth, on the gallows-tree for the sins of man. (122-46)
He redeemed us and gave us life,
a heavenly home. Hope was renewed
with buds and with bliss for those suffered the burning.
The Son was victory-fast upon his journey,
powerful and able, when he came with his multitudes,
the army of souls, into the realm of God,
the Almighty Ruler, as a bliss for the angels
and all of the holy, those who dwelt in glory
before in heaven, when their Sovereign came back,
Almighty God, to where his homeland was. (147-56)
Dream of the Rood
Exeter Book Elegies
THIS IS A SUMMARY. READ THE STORY*
King Hrothgar of Denmark, a descendant of the great king Shield Sheafson, enjoys a prosperous and successful reign. He builds a great mead-hall, called Heorot, where his warriors can gather to drink, receive gifts from their lord, and listen to stories sung by the scops, or bards. But the jubilant noise from Heorot angers Grendel, a horrible demon who lives in the swamplands of Hrothgar’s kingdom. Grendel terrorizes the Danes every night, killing them and defeating their efforts to fight back. The Danes suffer many years of fear, danger, and death at the hands of Grendel. Eventually, however, a young Geatish warrior named Beowulf hears of Hrothgar’s plight. Inspired by the challenge, Beowulf sails to Denmark with a small company of men, determined to defeat Grendel.
Hrothgar, who had once done a great favor for Beowulf’s father Ecgtheow, accepts Beowulf’s offer to fight Grendel and holds a feast in the hero’s honor. During the feast, an envious Dane named Unferth taunts Beowulf and accuses him of being unworthy of his reputation. Beowulf responds with a boastful description of some of his past accomplishments. His confidence cheers the Danish warriors, and the feast lasts merrily into the night. At last, however, Grendel arrives. Beowulf fights him unarmed, proving himself stronger than the demon, who is terrified. As Grendel struggles to escape, Beowulf tears the monster’s arm off. Mortally wounded, Grendel slinks back into the swamp to die. The severed arm is hung high in the mead-hall as a trophy of victory.
Beowulf
During a New Year’s Eve feast at King Arthur’s court, a strange figure, referred to only as the Green Knight, pays the court an unexpected visit. He challenges the group’s leader or any other brave representative to a game. The Green Knight says that he will allow whomever accepts the challenge to strike him with his own axe, on the condition that the challenger find him in exactly one year to receive a blow in return.
Stunned, Arthur hesitates to respond, but when the Green Knight mocks Arthur’s silence, the king steps forward to take the challenge. As soon as Arthur grips the Green Knight’s axe, Sir Gawain leaps up and asks to take the challenge himself. He takes hold of the axe and, in one deadly blow, cuts off the knight’s head. To the amazement of the court, the now-headless Green Knight picks up his severed head. Before riding away, the head reiterates the terms of the pact, reminding the young Gawain to seek him in a year and a day at the Green Chapel. After the Green Knight leaves, the company goes back to its festival, but Gawain is uneasy.
Gawain
Summary:
The pilgrims applaud the Knight’s Tale, and the pleased Host asks the Monk to match it. Before the Monk can utter a word, however, the Miller interrupts. Drunk and belligerent, he promises that he has a “noble” tale that will repay the Knight’s (3126). The Host tries to persuade the Miller to let some “bettre” man tell the next tale (3130). When the Miller threatens to leave, however, the Host acquiesces. After the Miller reminds everyone that he is drunk and therefore shouldn’t be held accountable for anything he says, he introduces his tale as a legend and a life of a carpenter and of his wife, and of how a clerk made a fool of the carpenter, which everyone understands to mean that the clerk slept with the carpenter’s wife (3141–3143). The Reeve shouts out his immediate objection to such ridicule, but the Miller insists on proceeding with his tale. He points out that he is married himself, but doesn’t worry whether some other man is sleeping with his wife, because it is none of his business. The narrator apologizes to us in advance for the tale’s bawdiness, and warns that those who are easily offended should skip to another tale.
→
Prologue to the Miller’s Tale
Chaucer
Summary:
The Miller begins his story: there was once an Oxford student named Nicholas, who studied astrology and was well acquainted with the art of love. Nicholas boarded with a wealthy but ignorant old carpenter named John, who was jealous and highly possessive of his sexy eighteen-year-old wife, Alisoun. One day, the carpenter leaves, and Nicholas and Alisoun begin flirting. Nicholas grabs Alisoun, and she threatens to cry for help. He then begins to cry, and after a few sweet words, she agrees to sleep with him when it is safe to do so. She is worried that John will find out, but Nicholas is confident he can outwit the carpenter.
The Miller’s Tale
Chaucer
A broken A L T A R, Lord, thy servant reares,
Made of a heart, and cemented with teares:
Whose parts are as thy hand did frame;
No workmans tool hath touch’d the same.
A H E A R T alone
Is such a stone,
As nothing but
Thy pow’r doth cut.
Wherefore each part
Of my hard heart
Meets in this frame,
To praise thy Name;
That, if I chance to hold my peace,
These stones to praise thee may not cease.
O let thy blessed S A C R I F I C E be mine,
And sanctifie this A L T A R to be thine.
George Herbert Poems The Altar(in Broadview, 693)
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee
Oh let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
Herbert Poems 4
Holy Baptism (I)
AS he that sees a dark and shadie grove,
Stays not, but looks beyond it on the skie;
So when I view my sinnes, mine eyes remove
More backward still, and to that water flie,
Which is above the heav’ns, whose spring and vent
Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side.
O blessed streams! either ye do prevent
And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide,
Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow.
In you Redemption measures all my time,
And spreads the plaister equall to the crime.
You taught the Book of Life my name, that so
What ever future sinnes should me miscall,
Your first acquaintance might discredit all.
Prayer (I) [text, 694]
Easter Wings.
George Herbert
AS he that sees a dark and shadie grove,
Stays not, but looks beyond it on the skie;
So when I view my sinnes, mine eyes remove
More backward still, and to that water flie,
Which is above the heav’ns, whose spring and vent
Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side.
O blessed streams! either ye do prevent
And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide,
Or else give tears to drown them, as they grow.
In you Redemption measures all my time,
And spreads the plaister equall to the crime.
You taught the Book of Life my name, that so
What ever future sinnes should me miscall,
Your first acquaintance might discredit all.
Holy Baptism
George Hebert
PRayer the Churches banquet, Angels age,
Gods breath in man returning to his birth,
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,
The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth;
Engine against th’ Almightie, sinners towre,
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-daies world transposing in an houre,
A kinde of tune, which all things heare and fear;
Softnesse, and peace, and joy, and love, and blisse,
Exalted Manna, gladnesse of the best,
Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest,
The Milkie way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bels beyond the starres heard, the souls bloud,
The land of spices; something understood.
Prayer
George Hebert
