The Romantic Theory of Poetry: An Examination in the Light of Croce's ÆstheticLongmans, Green & Company, 1926 - 263 стор. |
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abstract æsthetic appears artist beauty becomes believed Biographia Blake Blake's Breviario character Coleridge Coleridge's conception consciousness contemplation created creation creative criticism Croce desire distinction divine dream emotion empiricism ence Endymion Ennead Essay 11 essence Estetica existence experience expres expression external fact Faerie Queene feeling Four Zoas gives heart Hence human Ibid idea ideal imagination impressions individual infinite influence inspiration intellectual interpretation intuition Keats knowledge Letter living logical Lyrical Ballads material mental mind mood moral mystical Nature Neoplatonism Neoplatonist objects passion perfect philosophy Plato Plotinus poem poet poet's poetic poetry possess Post-Impressionist practical Prelude Queen Mab Quincey reality reason represent romantic romantic poetry romanticism Schelling Schelling's seems sensation sense Shakespeare shape Shelley Shelley's sion soul spirit theory things thought transcendent Transcendental Idealism true truth unity universal Urizen vidual vision whole words Wordsworth writes wrote
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Сторінка 202 - To suffer woes which hope thinks infinite ; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night ; To defy power which seems omnipotent ; To love and bear ; to hope till hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates...
Сторінка 10 - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language...
Сторінка 213 - He is a portion of the loveliness Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there, All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th...
Сторінка 86 - O the one life within us and abroad, Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, A light in sound, a sound-like power in light Rhythm in all thought, and joyance...
Сторінка 185 - While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed; I was not heard - I saw them not When musing deeply on the lot Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming, Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy!
Сторінка 131 - Winds thwarting winds bewildered and forlorn, The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them, the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream, The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens, Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light, Were all like workings of one mind, the features Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree, Characters of the great Apocalypse, The types...
Сторінка 138 - I was often unable to think of external things as having external existence, and I communed with all that I saw as something not apart from, but inherent in, my own immaterial nature.
Сторінка 215 - On a poet's lips I slept Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept; Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses.
Сторінка 197 - Spirit of Nature ! here ! In this interminable wilderness Of worlds, at whose immensity Even soaring fancy staggers, Here is thy fitting temple. Yet not the lightest leaf That quivers to the passing breeze Is less instinct with thee : Yet not the meanest worm That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead Less shares thy eternal breath. Spirit of Nature ! thou ! Imperishable as this scene, Here is thy fitting temple.
Сторінка 218 - The only imaginary being resembling in any degree Prometheus, is Satan; and Prometheus is, in my judgment, a more poetical character than Satan, because, in addition to courage, and majesty, and firm and patient opposition to omnipotent force, he is susceptible of being described as exempt from the taints of ambition, envy, revenge, and a desire for personal aggrandisement, which, in the Hero of Paradise Lost, interfere with the interest.