Configuring Romanticism: Essays Offered to C.C. BarfootTheo d'. Haen, Theo d' Haen, P. Th. M. G. Liebregts, Wim Tigges, Colin J. Ewen Rodopi, 2003 - 306 стор. Configuring Romanticism focuses on the ways in which "Romanticism" continues to change shape in light of new discoveries, new readings, new approaches. To this end, some essays here gathered offer novel interpretations of Romantic "classics" such as Wordsworth, Blake, and Southey, or discuss the Celtic roots of Romanticism. Others address the relationship of Romantic literature, particularly the work of Scott, Shelley, and De Quincey, to issues of colonialism and imperialism. Yet others trace the "afterlife" of Romanticism and the Romantics, specifically Byron, Shelley, and Keats, in the writings of Leigh Hunt, Elizabeth Gaskell, James Thomson, Algernon Swinburne, William Michael Rosetti, James Clarence Mangan, Francis Parkman, Gilbert and Sullivan, and T.S. Eliot, as well as in Dutch nineteenth-century criticism. The volume closes with discussions of the Romantic aspects of World War II propaganda, twentieth-century translations of the Aeneid in view of Romantic principles, the Romantic face of recent Québecois fiction, and present-day film versions of Jane Austen's Emma. |
Зміст
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| 51 | |
J P Vander Motten | 65 |
Valeria TinklerVillani | 89 |
Christensen | 105 |
Cornelis W Schoneveld | 123 |
Wil Verhoeven | 137 |
Wim Tigges | 153 |
Jane Mallinson | 173 |
Ton Hoenselaars | 215 |
Knottenbelt | 235 |
Jeanette den Toonder | 259 |
Peter Liebregts | 277 |
Notes on Contributors | 301 |
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Aeneid Austen biography Blake British Byron Byronic Hero century character Clarence Mangan 1902 criticism cultural death dream Dublin edition Elizabeth Gaskell emblem book Emma Emma's English epiphany essay fiction film Frank Churchill French genre Haidar hand Harriet Henry Hunt iambs imagination India Irish Jacobite James Clarence Mangan James Joyce Jane Jean Le Maigre Joyce Joyce's Keats Keats's Knightley language Laurence Olivier letter lines literary literature London Menie mind Missee Lee modern Mysore narrative narrator nature novel Olivier's Oxford Ozymandias Parkman pirate chief play poem poet poetic poetry political present Prochain épisode protagonist published Québec Québécois Quiet Revolution reader reference revolution rhetoric Robert Southey Romantic Romanticism Rossetti Ruth scene Scott sense Shakespeare Shakspere Shelley Shelley's Shooting the Hero Sisson Southey story Surgeon's Daughter Swinburne T. S. Eliot Thomas tradition translation verse Victorian Virgil's vision Waverley wilderness words Wordsworth writing
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Сторінка 280 - Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence, and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.
Сторінка 256 - Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present...
Сторінка 107 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But in embalmed darkness guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine, Fast fading violets covered up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Сторінка 174 - In using the myth, in manipulating a continuous parallel between contemporaneity and antiquity, Mr. Joyce is pursuing a method which others must pursue after him.
Сторінка 62 - I was stared at, hooted at, grinned at, chattered at, by monkeys, by paroquets, by cockatoos. I ran into pagodas; and was fixed for centuries at the summit, or in secret rooms; I was the idol; I was the priest; I was worshipped; I was sacrificed.
Сторінка 178 - 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
Сторінка 109 - How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear! Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! Oh, leave me not in this eternal woe, For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go.
Сторінка 57 - 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...
Сторінка 19 - it will be questioned, " when the sun rises, do you not see a round disc of fire somewhat like a guinea ? " Oh ! no, no ! I see an innumerable company of the heavenly host crying " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty ! " I question not my corporeal eye any more than I would question a window concerning a sight.