The Romantic Age (1776-1837)

Historical and social Context

George III was king of Great Britain and Ireland from 1760 to 1820. Britain continued to develop economically and politically.The British population was divided basically into 3 social classes:

1. The Landowners and aristocracy;2. The businessmen and industrialists;3. The masses: they were poop and they had to leave the

countryside to work in the new-built factories.

The economy

The economy continued to develop thanks to favourable circumstances. First of all, the colonies were a source of materials, then the Bank of England started to operate around the country and then the transport system, especially the railways, was developed.Despite the improvements, most people continued to live and work in bad conditions. The cities became overcrowded and unsanitary. The idyllic world of nature as presented by many of Romantic poets is an antidote to the life in the cities.During this period there were also a lot of protests, such as in 1819 in Manchester where people protested against the rise in the price of bread.The government decided to introduce many reforms:

1. The Factory Act limited working hours and children under 9 couldn’t work;

2. Factory owners formed their own associations;3. A police force and a local government were established;4. A system of national primary education was set up in 1834.

Lord Nelson’s victory at the Battle of Trafalger (1805) and the decisive victory in Waterloo in 1815 gave Britain the upper hand, but many people died.

Ireland

In 1801, with the Act of Union, Ireland became an integral part of the United Kingdom.

The Romantic period – Literary Context

By the end of the century many poets and artists had started reacting against the dehumanisation of the new industrial society, These artists were called Romantics. The word romantic comes from the French word for medieval sagas “roman”. Initially it meant exaggerated, but then it took a positive meaning to describe the expression of personal feelings and emotions.The Romantic period in Britain started in 1798, when Wordsworth and Coleridge published the Lyrical Ballads. The sources of the movement were in German with the Sturm und Drang movement (storm and stress) led by Goethe.The most important Romantic poets in England were: Blake, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley, Byron and Keats. They didn’t take part to a group, but they shared characteristics such as imagination (the poet was a visionary who, through imagination, can find the true beauty and deeper meanings), nature, a simple language, a nostalgia for the past (especially the Middle Ages) and for the childhood (because they saw children as pure and incorrupted).

The Romantic poets are traditionally grouped into 2 generations. The poets of the first generation are Blake, Wordsworth and Coleridge.Blake’s life was spent in rebellion against the rationalist philosophy of the 18th century.Coleridge’s poetry often deals with the mysterious, the supernatural and the extraordinary.

The Second Generation includes Byron, Shelley and Keats.Byron was the prototype of the Romantic poet.Shelley was the most revolutionary and non-conformist of the Romantic poets. He rejected the institutions of family, church and marriage.Keats spoke about the conflict between the real world of beauty, imagination and youth.Romantic fiction

Three types of novel developed in the Romantic period: the historical novel, the gothic novel and the novel of manners.Scott is the inventor of the historical novels. He wrote Ivanhoe, that was a source for Alessandro Manzoni.Gothic novels were based on tales of the macabre, fantastic and supernatural. The greatest Gothic novel is Mary Shelley’s Frankestein.Jane Austen stands out as one of the Romantic Age’s greatest writers. Her “novels of manners” speak about middle class, money, decorum and marriage.

Romanticism in Europe

It was an important literary movement throughout Europe.In France, it started with J.J. Rousseau who used the word “romantique” for the first time. In poetry the great names were Lamartine, De Vigny, Hugo and De Musset. Novel writers were Balzac and Stendhal.In Germany there was the Sturm and Drang movement; in Italy the Romantic movement emerged relatively late with Ugo Foscolo, Manzoni (and his historical novel I Promessi Sposi) and Leopardi.

William Blake (1757-1827)

William Blake was born in London in 1757. He showed early signs of artistic talent. The year 1783 marked the beginning of a period of

great creativity in Blake’s life. He published his first volume of poetry, Poetical Sketches, and invented a new method of printing, which he called “illuminated printing”. In 1789 he engraved and published his first great literary work, Songs of Innocence. Blake plunged into a deep depression. He lived in a dirty studio, completely cut off from the rest of the world. After 1818 he stopped writing poetry but continued to produce engravings, including the illustrations for Dante’s Divine Comedy , which remained incomplete at the time of his death in 1827.

Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience (1789-1794)

They are visual and poetic masterpieces where art and text are linked. Many of the poems in Songs of Innocence are about childhood and are written in a simple language that it seems they could have written by a child.Childhood comes to an end and adulthood reveals a different world. In Songs of Experience Blake speaks about corruption and violence and how individuals are exploited by a cruel world.The poems are similar to songs because the rhyme schemes and rhythm are very regular.He uses symbols, such as innocence that is represented by children, flowers and lambs.

The Lamb (Songs of Innocence)

   Little lamb, who made thee?   Does thou know who made thee,Gave thee life, and bid thee feedBy the stream and o'er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,Softest clothing, woolly, bright;Gave thee such a tender voice,Making all the vales rejoice?   Little lamb, who made thee?   Does thou know who made thee?

   Little lamb, I'll tell thee;   Little lamb, I'll tell thee:He is called by thy name,For He calls Himself a Lamb.He is meek, and He is mild,He became a little child.I a child, and thou a lamb,We are called by His name.   Little lamb, God bless thee!   Little lamb, God bless thee!

Analysis

"The Lamb " is a poem by William Blake, published in Songs of Innocence in 1789. Like many of Blake's works, the poem is about religion, specifically about Christianity.

Background

Like the other Songs of Innocence and Experience, The Lamb was intended to be sung; William Blake's original melody is now lost. It was made into a song by Vaughan Williams. It was also set to music by Sir John Tavener, who explained, "The Lamb came to me fully grown and was written in an afternoon and dedicated to my nephew Simon for his 3rd birthday." American poet Allen Ginsberg set the poem to music, along with several other of Blake's poems.

The Lamb can be compared to a more grandiose Blake poem: The Tyger in Songs of Experience. Critical analysis suggests that both poems, "The Lamb" and "The Tyger," question the Christian assumption that God is good; if God is responsible for creating both the good things in life (the lamb) and the evil things (the tyger), how can God be good and moral?

The lamb in the poem may be compared to Jesus Christ, who is also known as "The Lamb of God".

Poetic structure

This poem has a simple rhyme scheme : AA BB CC DD AA AA EF DD FE AA

The layout is set up by two stanzas with the refrain: "Little Lamb who made thee?/Dost thou know who made thee?"

In the first stanza, the speaker wonders who the lamb's creator is; the answer lies at the end of the poem. Here we find a physical description of the lamb, seen as a pure and gentle creature.

In the second stanza, the lamb is compared with the infant Jesus, as well as between the lamb and the speaker's soul. In the last two lines the speaker identifies the creator: God.

The Tyger (Songs of Experience)

Tyger, tyger, burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skiesBurnt the fire of thine eyes?On what wings dare he aspire?What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what artCould twist the sinews of thy heart?And, when thy heart began to beat,What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?In what furnace was thy brain?What the anvil? what dread graspDare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,And watered heaven with their tears,Did He smile His work to see?Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger, tyger, burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeDare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Analysis

The Tyger belongs to Songs of Experience which was written by William Blake. The poet came up with a technique called ‘relief etching’ to be able to add his illustrations. The poem contains six quatrains; and its rhyme is assonant, and follows perfectly the pattern aabb due to, in the case of the first and the sixth stanzas, the word ‘symmetry’ is pronounced in such a way that it rhymes with ‘eye’].With regard to the semantic fields, there are words related to the tools used by an ironsmith like, for instance, ‘hammer’, ‘chain’, ‘furnace’, and ‘anvil’, in the fourth stanza. Also, we can find a semantic field related to Nature like, for example, ‘forests’ (line 2), ‘skies’ (line 5), ‘Tyger’ (lines 1 and 21), and ‘Lamb’ (line 20). But, above all, the poet used a semantic field related to Creation when he writes words or phases like:

‘What immortal hand and eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry?’

The simple structure and the vocabulary help the reader to understand the main topics or concepts, which are Evil, Good, and God.The first impression that William Blake gives is that he sees a terrible tiger in the night, and, as a result of his state of panic, the poet exaggerates the description of the animal when he writes:

‘Tyger! Tyger! Burning brightIn the forests of the night…’

However, paying more attention to what comes next, the author talks about Evil, and Good, as I said above. These two essential ideas are symbolised in the ‘Tyger’ and the ‘Lamb’, respectively (notice that both words have capital letters). Immediately after seeing the ‘Tyger’ in the forests, the poet asks it what deity could have created it:

‘What immortal hand and eye,Could frame thy fearful symmetry?’

The word ‘immortal’ gives the reader a clue that the poet refers to God. Then, in the second stanza, the author wonders in what far-away places the tiger was made, maybe, referring that these places cannot be reached by any mortal. In the third stanza, the poet asks again, once the tiger’s heart began to beat, who could make such a frightening and evil animal. Next, in the forth stanza, William Blake asks questions about the tools used by God. And he names the hammer, the chain, the furnace, and anvil. All these elements are used by an ironsmith. Thus, according to the poet, God is a kind of craftsman. After that, in the fifth stanza, the poet asks two significant questions. The first one refers to God’s feelings:

‘Did he smile his work to see?’In other words, was God happy with his creation? The second question is:

‘Did he who made the Lamb make thee?’William Blake does not understand why or how the deity who is responsible for good and innocence, is, at he same time, the same who inserts violence and evil in this world. However, the poet does not make any statement at any moment. He only asks questions which invite the reader to think about. Finally, the last stanza is the same as the first one which may indicate that the author is not able to understand the world where we live.William Blake wrote the poem with a simple structure and a perfect rhyme to help the reader see the images he wanted to transmit.

William Wordsworth

He was born in 1770 in the Lake District (in the north-west of England). He lost his parents when he was a child.When he was an university student, he travelled to France and Italy and he really appreciated the beauty of landscape.In 1795 he met Samuel Coleridge, a poet, and they become friends. Together they discussed, read, wrote and exchanged theories on poetry.They wrote “The Lyrical Ballads” (1798), a landmark in English Romanticism. He moved with his sister Dorothy to the Lake District, a region that he immortalised in his works. He married and published “Poems in two volumes”.At the end of his career, he become more conservative politically. He died in 1850.

Works

The Preface to the Lyrical Ballads is a manifesto for the Romantic movement.His theories about poetry are:

1. the language should be simple;2. the subject should consist of situations from common life;3. the poet is a man speaking to men. He uses his special gift to

show other men the essence of things.

These ideas are exemplified in “I wondered lonely as a cloud”. Here the language is simple, the subject is the flowers that the poet saw when walking in the country. The poet finds his greatest inspiration in nature, which can elevate the human soul.He identifies nature with God.Other works are: The Prelude, a long autobiographical poem in 24 books and Poems in two Volumes.

A certain colouring of imagination (from Preface to the Lyrical Ballads) - Analysis

This extract is taken from the preface to the second edition of Lyrical Ballads, regarded as the Manifesto of English Romanticism. In this passage Wordsworth expressed a new concept of poetry, based to the real and authentic every day’s life.For the poet the subject of the poetry are low and rustic life because in that condition of life all elements co-exist in a state of greater simplicity. The language of poetry is simple but durable and purified: in this way his poetry can be knew from more people, in fact the poet doesn’t use philosophical language. Then Wordsworth reflects to the very identity of the poet: he’s a man speaking to men but compared with common men the poet has more sensibility, enthusiasm and comprehensive soul but also has a greater knowledge of human nature.The poet analyses also the process which must follow for makes a poetic opera.First of all the poet lives a sensory experience, then he makes emotion. In a second time, in tranquillity, with the memory, kindred the same emotion and at last he writes a poem. In this passage we

can be read the theme which characterizes the Romantic poetry: an exaltation to the nature which is inseparable to man.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud – Analysis

Wordsworth is known as a nature poet who found beauty, comfort and moral strength in the nature. The world of nature is free from corruption and stress and offers a mean to escape from industrialised society.

"I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud" (known as "The Daffodils") is an 1804 poem by William Wordsworth. It was inspired by an April 15, 1802 event in which Wordsworth and his sister, Dorothy, came across a "long belt" of daffodils. It was first published in 1807.

The poem is written in iambic tetrameter.

The memory of the daffodils is etched in the speaker's mind and soul to be cherished forever. When he's feeling lonely, dull or depressed, he thinks of the daffodils and cheers up. The full impact of the daffodils' beauty (symbolizing the beauty of nature) did not strike him at the moment of seeing them, when he stared blankly at them but much later when he sat alone, sad and lonely and remembered them.

The inspiration for the poem may have been a walk he took with his sister Dorothy around a small village in North Yorkshire.

Dorothy later wrote in reference to this walk:

“I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing”. (Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal)

Intimations of Immortality

"Ode: Intimations of Immortality From Recollections of Early Childhood" is a long ode in eleven sections by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth. It is a deeply philosophical work, with themes ranging from the Platonic belief in pre-existence, to Wordsworth's belief that children have an instinctive wisdom that adults lack. Composed in the English Lake District, between 1802 and 1804, "Intimations of Immortality" was first published in Poems, in Two Volumes (1807). It is composed of eleven stanzas.

Wordsworth applies memories of his early childhood to his adult philosophy of life. According to the author's prose introduction, "Intimations of Immortality" was inspired in part by Platonic philosophy. Plato taught pre-existence, meaning that the soul dwelled in an ideal alternate state prior to its present occupation of the body, and the soul will return to that ideal previous state after the body's death. The immortality the title refers to is the immortality of the soul, "Intimations of Immortality" begins with the speaker recalling how nature and "every common sight" once seemed divine to him.

In Stanza II, he reminds himself that rainbows and the like are still "beautiful and fair" to him, but nevertheless he feels "there hath past [passed] away a glory from the earth."

In Stanza V, Wordsworth begins to philosophize in earnest. "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting," he says, for our souls originate in a purer, more glorious realm: heaven itself. Small children retain some memory of paradise, which glorifies their experiences on earth, but youths begin to lose it, and adults, distracted by earthly concerns.

I

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;-- Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

II

The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

V

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.

He starts the poem off in the first stanza on the theme of that heavenly memory; he says that "there was a time" when he could see heaven in all of nature around him, but now "the things which I have seen I can see no more," meaning, that memory has faded with age and time. In the second stanza the poet says that even though he can still see the rainbow, the rose, the moon, and the sun, and even though they are still beautiful, something is different...something has been lost: "But yet I know, where'er I go, / That there hath past away a glory from the earth." In the fifth stanza he says that when we are born, we forget where we came from; we come "trailing clouds of glory...from God."  He continues by saying, "Heaven lies about us in our infancy" only to have "man perceive it die away".

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

He was born in 1772. When his father died he moved to a London charity school for children of the clergy. Then he went to Cambridge and together with the radical poet Robert Southey he planned the foundation of an egalitarian utopian community in New England.The project was abandoned but the two friends collaborated on a verse drama, The Fall of Robespierre.He left Cambridge without a degree and married Southey’s sister. The marriage was a failure and the couple lived apart the most of their lives.In 1795 he met Wordsworth and the result of their collaboration was the Lyrical Ballads (1798), which opened with one of the four poems Coleridge wrote: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.Then he travelled to Germany with Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy.He was interested in German philosophy, especially the ideas of Immanuel Kant.He learned German, studied philosophy and translated Schiller’s works into English.Then he went to the Lake District with Wordsworth and he become addicted to opium. He left for Malta hoping to overcome his addiction.In 1810 his friendship with Wordsworth came to a bitter end and he went to live in London.

He worked as a journalist and he wrote his major prose work, Biographia Literaria. He died in 1834.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

This is a story of a sea journey through strange and mysterious oceans. He describes the natural and supernatural events that occur during the voyage.It is written in form of a ballad, using short stanzas and repetition. The lexis and syntax are quite simple. The events of the poem take place in a ghostly atmosphere and the reader often feels he is moving from a real to an unreal world and back again.The story can be interpreted as a spiritual/religious allegory, in which man is punished for offending God and nature by killing the albatross. The albatross is a symbol of the Mariner’s sense of guilt.

TEXTS: 

FIRST PART  It is an ancient Mariner,And he stoppeth one of three.«By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?  The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,And I am next of kin ;The guests are met, the feast is set:May’st hear the merry din.»  He holds him with his skinny hand,«There was a ship,» quoth he.«Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon !»Eftsoons his hand dropt he.    He holds him with his glittering eye—The Wedding-Guest stood still,And listens like a three years’ child:The Mariner hath his will.  The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:He cannot choose but hear;And thus spake on that ancient man,The bright-eyed Mariner 

PRIMA PARTE  È un vecchio marinaio, e ferma uno dei tre convitati: «Per la tua lunga barba grigia e il tuo occhio scintillante, e perchè ora mi fermi?    Le porte del Fidanzato son già tutte aperte, e io sono il più stretto parente; i convitati son già riuniti, il festino è servito, tu puoi udirne di qui l’allegro rumore.»  Ma egli lo trattiene con mano di scheletro. «C’era una volta un bastimento …» comincia a dire. «Lasciami, non mi trattener più, vecchio vagabondo dalla barba brizzolata!» E quello immediatamente ritirò la sua mano.  Ma con l’occhio scintillante lo attrae e lo trattiene. E il Convitato resta come paralizzato, e sta ad ascoltare come un bambino di tre anni: il vecchio Marinaro è padrone di lui.Il Convitato si mise a sedere sopra una pietra: e non può fare a meno di ascoltare attentamente. E cosí parlò allora quel vecchio uomo, il Marinaro dal magnetico sguardo:  «La nave, salutata, avea già lasciato il porto, e

«The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,Merrily did we dropBelow the kirk, below the hill,Below the light-house top.  The Sun came upon the left,Out of the sea came he!And the shone bright, and on the rightWent down into the sea.  Higher and higher every day,Till over the mast at noon—»The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,For he heard the loud bassoon.  The bride hath paced into the hall,Red as a rose is she;Nodding their heads before her goesThe merry minstrelsy.  The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,Yet he cannot choose but hear;And thus spake on the ancient man,The bright-eyed Mariner,«And now the storm-blast came, and heWas tyrannous and strong:He struck with his o’ertaking wings,And chased us south along.  With sloping masts and dipping prow,As who pursued with yell and blowStill treads the shadow of his foe,And forward bends his head,The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,And southward aye we fled.  And now there come both mist and snow,And it grew wondrous cold:And ice, mast-high, came floating by,As green as emerald.  And through the drifts the snowy cliftsDid send a dismal sheen:Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—The ice was all between.  The ice was here, the ice was there,The ice was all around :It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,Like noises in a swound! 

lietamente filava sull’onde, sotto la chiesa, sotto la collina, sotto l’alto fanale.    Il Sole si levò da sinistra, si levò su dal mare. Brillò magnificamente, e a destra ridiscese nel mare    Ogni di piú alto, sempre più alto finchè diritto sull’albero maestro, a mezzogiorno …» Il Convitato si batte il petto impaziente, perchè sente risuonare il grave trombone.  La Sposa si è avanzata nella sala: essa è vermiglia come una rosa; la precedono, movendo in cadenza la testa, i gai musicanti.    Il Convitato si percuote il petto, ma non può fare a meno di stare a udire il racconto. E così seguitò a dire quell’antico uomo, il Marinaro dall’occhio brillante.«Ed ecco che sopraggiunse la burrasca, e fu tirannica e forte. Ci colpì con le sue irresistibili ali, e, insistente, ci cacciò verso sud.    Ad alberi piegati, a bassa prora, come chi ha inseguito con urli e colpi pur corre a capo chino sull’orma del suo nemico, la nave correva veloce, la tempesta ruggiva forte, e ci s’inoltrava sempre piú verso il sud.    Poi vennero insieme la nebbia e la neve; si fece un freddo terribile: blocchi di ghiaccio, alti come l’albero della nave, ci galleggiavano attorno, verdi come smeraldo.  E traverso il turbine delle valanghe, le rupi nevose mandavano sinistri bagliori: non si vedeva più forma o di bestia — ghiaccio solo da per tutto.  Il ghiaccio era qui, il ghiaccio era là, il ghiaccio era tutto all’intorno: scricchiolava e muggiva, ruggiva ed urlava. come i rumori che si odono in una sincope.  Alla fine un Albatro passò per aria, e venne a

At lenght did cross an Albatross,Thorough the fog it came;As if it had been a Christian soul,We hailed it in God’s name.  It hate the food in ne’er had eat,And round and round it flew.The ice did split with a thunder-fit;The heilmsman steered us through!  And a good south wind sprung up behind;The Albatross did follow,And every day, for food or play,Came to the mariners’ hollo!  In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,It perched for vespers nine;Whiles all the night, through the fog-smoke white,Glimmered the white moon-shine.»  «God save thee, ancient Mariner!From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—Why look’st thou so?» —With my cross-bowI shot the ALBATROSS

 

noi traverso la nebbia. Come se fosse stato un’anima cristiana, lo salutammo nel nome di Dio.  Mangiò del cibo che gli demmo, benchè nuovo per lui; e ci volava e rivolava d’intorno. Il ghiaccio a un tratto si ruppe, e il pilota potè passare fra mezzo.  E un buon vento di sud ci soffiò alle spalle, e l’Albatro ci teneva dietro; e ogni giorno veniva a mangiare o scherzare sul bastimento, chiamato e salutato allegramente dai marinari.  Tra la nebbia o tra ’l nuvolo, su l’albero o su le vele, si appollaiò per nove sere di seguito; mentre tutta la notte attraverso un bianco vapore splendeva il bianco lume di luna.»  «Che Dio ti salvi, o Marinaro, dal demonio che ti tormenta! — Perchè mi guardi cosí, Che cos’hai?» — «Con la mia balestra, io ammazzai l’ ALBATRO! 

  THIRD PART

  There passed a weary time. Each throatWas parched, and glazed each eyeA weary time! A weary time!How glazed each weary eye!When looking westward I beheldA something in the sky.  At first it seemed a little speck,And then it seemed a mist;It moved and moved, and took at lastA certain shape, I wist.  A speck, a mist, a shape. I wist!And still it neared and neared:As if it dodged a water sprite,It plunged and tacked and veered.  With throats unslaked, with black lips backed,We could nor laugh nor wail;Through utter drought all dumb we stood!I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,And cried, A sail! a sail!  With throats unslaked, with black lips backed,Agape they heard me call:Gramercy! they for joy did grin,And all at once their breath drew in,As they were drinking all.  See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!Hither to work us weal;Without a breeze, without a tide,She steadies with uproght keel!  The western wave was all a-flame,The day was well nigh done!Almost upon the western waveRested the broad bright Sun.When that strange shape drove suddendlyBetwixt us and the Sun.  And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,(Heaven’s Mother send us grace!)As if through a dungeon-grate he peeredWith broad and burning face.     

PARTE TERZA  E passò un triste tempo. Ogni gola era riarsa, ogni occhio era vitreo. Un triste tempo, un triste tempo! E come mi fissavano tutti quegli occhi stanchi! Quand’ecco, guardando verso occidente, io scorsi qualche cosa nel cielo.    Da prima, pareva una piccola macchia, una specie di nebbia; si moveva, si moveva, e alla fine parve prendere una certa forma.    Una macchia, una nebbia, una forma, che sempre più si faceva vicina: e come se volesse sottrarsi ed evitare un fantasma marino, si tuffava, si piegava, si rigirava.  Con gole asciutte, con nere arse labbra, non si poteva nè ridere nè piangere. In quell’eccesso di sete, stavano tutti muti. Io mi morsi un braccio, ne succhiai il sangue, e gridai: Una vela! Una vela!  Con arse gole, con nere labbra bruciate, attoniti mi udiron gridare. Risero convulsamente di gioia: e tutti insieme aspirarono l’aria, come in atto di bere.    Vedete! vedete! (io gridai) essa non gira più, ma vien dritta a recarci salute: senza un alito di vento, senza corrente, si avanza con la chiglia elevata.  A occidente l’acqua era tutta fiammeggiante; il giorno era presso a finire. Sull’onda occidentale posava il grande splendido sole quand’ecco quella strana forma s’interpose fra il sole e noi.    E a un tratto il sole apparve listato di strisce (che la celeste Madre ci assista!) come se guardasse dalla inferriata di una prigione con la sua faccia larga ed accesa.       

  Alas! (thought I, and mi heart beat loud)How fast she nears and nears!Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,Like restless gossameres?  Are those her ribs through which the SunDid peer, as through a grate?And is that Woman all her crew?Is that a DEATH? and are there two?Is DEATH that Woman’s mate?  Her lips were red, her looks were free.Her locks were yellow as gold:Her skin was as white as leprosy,The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,Who thicks man’s blood with cold.  The naked hulk alongside came,And the twain were casting dice:«The game is done! I’ve won, I’ve won !»Quoth she, and whistles thrice.  The Sun’s rim dips, the stars rush out:At one stride comes the dark;With far-heard whisper o’er the sea,Off shot the spectre-bark    We listened and looked sideways up!Fear at my heart, as at a cup,My life-blood seemed to sip!The stars were dim, and thick the night,The steersman’s face by his lamp gleamed white;    From the sails the dew did drip—Till clomb above the eastern barThe horned Moon, with one bright starWithin the neither tip.  One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,Too quick for groan or sigh,Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,And cursed me withe his eye.    Four times fifty living men,(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)With heavy tump, a lifeless lump,They dropped down one by one.

Ohimè! (pensavo io, e il cuore mi batteva forte), come si avvicina rapidamente, ogni momento di più! Son quelle le sue vele, che scintillano al sole come irrequiete fila di ragno?  Son quelle le sue coste, traverso a cui il sole guarda come traverso a una grata? E quella donna là è tutto l’equipaggio? È forse la Morte? o ve ne son due? o è la Morte la compagna di quella donna?  Le sue labbra eran rosse, franchi gli sguardi, i capelli gialli com’oro: ma la pelle biancastra come la lebbra… Essa era l’Incubo VITA-IN-MORTE, che congela il sangue dell’uomo.    Quella nuda carcassa di nave ci passò di fianco, e le due giocavano ai dadi. «Il gioco è finito! ho vinto, ho vinto!» dice l’una, e fischia tre volte.    L’ultimo lembo di sole scompare: le stelle accorrono a un tratto: senza intervallo crepuscolare, è già notte. Con un mormorio prolungato fuggì via sul mare quel battello-fantasma.  Noi udivamo, e guardavamo di sbieco, in su. Il terrore pareva suggere dal mio cuore, come da una coppa, tutto il mio sangue vitale. Le stelle erano torbide, fitta la notte, e il viso del timoniere splendeva pallido e bianco sotto la sua lanterna.  La rugiada gocciava dalle vele; finchè il corno lunare pervenne alla linea orientale, avendo alla sua estremità inferiore una fulgida stella,    L’un dopo l’altro, al lume della luna che pareva inseguita dalle stelle, senza aver tempo di mandare un gemito o un sospiro, ogni marinaro torse la faccia in una orribile angoscia, e mi maledisse con gli occhi.  Duecento uomini viventi (e io non udii nè un sospiro nè un gemito), con un grave tonfo, come una inerte massa, caddero giù l’un dopo l’altro. 

    The souls did from their bodies fly,—They flied to bliss or woe!And every soul it passed me byLike the whizz of my cross-bow.

  Le anime volaron via dai loro corpi — volarono alla beatitudine o alla dannazione; ed ogni anima mi passò d’accanto sibilando, come il fischio della mia balestra. 

  FOURTH PART

  «I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner,I fear thy skinny hand !And thou art long, and lank, and brown,As is the ribbed sea-sand,  I fear thee and thy glittering eyeAnd thy skinny hand, so brown.» —«Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!This body dropt not down.  Alone, alone, all, all alone,Alone on a wide, wide sea!And never a saint took pity onMy soul in agony.  The many men, so beatiful!And they all dead did lie:And a thousand thousand slimy thingsLived on; and so did I.  I looked upon the rotting sea,And drew my eyes away;I looked upon the rotting deckAnd there the dead men lay.  I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;But or ever a prayer had gusht,A wicked whisper came, and madeMy heart as dry as dust.  I closed my lids, and kept them close,And the balls like pulses beat;For the sky and the sea and the sea and the skyLay like a load on my weary eye,And the dead were at my feet.  The cold sweat melted from their limbs,Nor rot nor reek did they:The look with which they looked on meHad never passed away.  An orphan’s curse would drag to HellA spirit from on high;But oh! more horrible than thatIs a curse in a dead man’s eye!Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,And yet I could not die. 

PARTE QUARTA  «Tu mi spaventi, vecchio Marinaro! La tua scarna mano mi fa pura! Tu sei lungo, magro, bruno come la ruvida sabbia del mare.    Ho paura di te, e del tuo occhio brillante, e della tua bruna mano di scheletro…»— «Non temere, non temere, o Convitato! Questo mio corpo non cadde fra i morti.  Solo, solo, affatto solo — solo in un immenso mare! E nessun santo ebbe compassione di me, della mia anima agonizzante.    Tutti quegli uomini così belli, tutti ora giacevano morti! e migliaia e migliaia di creature brulicanti e viscose continuavano a vivere, e anch’io vivevo.  Guardavo quel putrido mare, e torcevo subito gli occhi dall’orribile vista; guardavo sul ponte marcito, e là erano distesi i morti.    Alzai gli occhi al cielo, e tentai di pregare; ma appena mormoravo una prece, udivo quel maledetto sibilo, e il mio cuore diventava arido come la polvere.  Chiusi le palpebre, e le mantenni chiuse; e le pupille battevano come polsi; perchè il mare ed il cielo, il cielo ed il mare, pesavano opprimenti sui miei stanchi occhi; e ai miei piedi stavano i morti.  Un sudore freddo stillava dalle loro membra, ma non imputridivano, nè puzzavano: mi guardavano sempre fissi, col medesimo sguardo con cui mi guardaron da vivi.  La maledizione di un orfano avrebbe la forza di tirar giù un’anima dal cielo all’inferno; ma oh! più orribile ancora è la maledizione negli occhi di un morto! Per sette giorni e sette notti io vidi quella maledizione… eppure non potevo morire. 

  The moving Moon went up the sky,And no where did abide:Softly she was going up,And a star or two beside—  Her beams bemocked the suiltry main,Like April hoar-frost spread;But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,The charmed water burnt alwayA still and awful red.  Beyond the shadow of the ship,I watched the water-snakes:They moved in tracks of shining white,And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes.  Within the shadow of the ship,I watched their rich attire:Blue glossy green, and velvet black,They coiled and swam; and every trackWas a flash of golden fire.  O happy living things! no tongueTheir beauty might declare:A spring of love gushed from my heart,And I blessed them unaware:Sure my kind saint took pity on me,And I blessed them unaware.  The self same moment I could pray;And from my neck so freeThe Albatross fell off, and sankLike lead into the sea 

  La vagante luna ascendeva in cielo e non si fermava mai: dolcemente saliva , saliva in compagnia di una o due stelle.    I suoi raggi illusori davano aspetto di una distesa bianca brina d’aprile a quel mare putrido e ribollente; ma dove si rifletteva la grande ombra della nave, l’acqua incantata ardeva in un monotono e orribile color rosso.  Al di là di quell’ombra, io vedevo i serpi di mare muoversi a gruppi di un lucente candore; e quando si alzavano a fior d’acqua, la magica luce si rifrangeva in candidi fiocchi spioventi.    Nell’ombra della nave, guardavo ammirando la riccheza dei loro colori; blu, verde-lucidi, nero- vellutati, si attorcigliavano e nuotavano; e ovunque movessero, era uno scintillio di fuochi d’oro.  O felici creature viventi! Nessuna lingua può esprimere la loro bellezza: e una sorgente d’amore scaturì dal mio cuore, e istintivamente li benedissi. Certo il mio buon Santo ebbe allora pietà di me, e io inconsciamente li benedissi.  Nel momento stesso potei pregare; e allora l’Albatro si staccò dal mio collo, e cadde, e affondò come piombo nel mare. 

The “Rime of the ancient mariner” is made up of seven parts and is set in a boundless sea with days of pitiless sun and nights lit by the moon.It is introduced by an argument containing a short summary of the whole poem and consists of two narratives: one is made up of the captions (=didascalie) which constitute the framework andintroduce the protagonist and his listener, the other is the poem itself, which deals with the extraordinary adventures of the mariner.

In the first part the ancient mariner stops a wedding guest to tell him his dreadful tale. He narrates how he and his fellow mariners reached the equator and the polar regions after a violent storm.After several days an albatross appeared through the fog and was killed by the mariner.The shooting of a bird may seem a matter of little moment, but Coleridge makes it significant in two ways. First of all, he does not say why the mariner kills the albatross and what matters isprecisely the uncertainty of the mariner’s motives, which suggests the essential irrationality of the crime. Secondly, this action is against nature and breaks a sacred law of life.The mariner’s motives for killing the albatross, one of the most interesting aspects of the poem, remain a mystery. The act in effect is pure, without motivation, and radically separates him from thesymbolic community and from the logical chain of cause and effect.

The third part shows how the mariner’s guilty soul becomes conscious of what he has done and of his isolation from the world. A phantom ship comes closer to the doomed crew (=equipaggiocondannato) and is identified as a skeleton ship. On board Death and Life-in-Death, seen as ghosts, cast dice (=gettano i dadi); the former wins the mariner’s fellows, who all die, and the latter winsthe mariner’s life.

In the fourth part this sense of solitude is stressed and the guilty soul of the mariner is cut off not merely from human intercourse (=rapporti) but also from nature. Then the mariner, unaware(=inconsapevole, ignaro), blesses the water snakes and begins to re-establish a relationship with the world of nature.

Stylistic features

The poem, written in the form of a medieval ballad, creates a universe where realistic and supernatural events coexist (see page 64). The landscape is portrayed in a mysterious, dream-likeway and is populated not only by the albatross, a bird whose killing, according to the mythology, is considered a sacrilege, but also by horrible sea-monsters which surround the ship after the bird’sdeath. The presence of spirits and angels also contribute to create a strange, almost magical atmosphere.

George Gordon Byron

He was born in London in 1788. His father died when he was only 3 years old, possibly committing suicide. In 1807 he published his first work, Hours of Idleness, a collection of sentimental poems. When his great uncle died, he inherited the title (Baron Byron of Rochdale).In 1809 he made his Grand Tour, a typical trip abroad that educated young men. He visited all the Mediterranean countries.Back in England he published the first two cantos of Childe Harold. He was just 24 years old and he became famous.His private life was the source of much scandal, especially the rumour about a relationship with his half-sister.Then he left England and went to Geneva, to Italy and to Greece.He died in 1824, he was just 36 years old.

Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage is a lengthy narrative poem written by the poet George Gordon, Lord Byron. It was published between 1812 and 1818 and is dedicated to "Ianthe", the term of endearment he used for Charlotte Harley (the artist Francis Bacon's great-great-grandmother).[1] The poem describes the travels and reflections of a world-weary young man who, disillusioned with a life of pleasure and revelry, looks for distraction in foreign lands; in a wider sense, it is an expression of the melancholy and disillusionment felt by a generation weary of the wars of the post-Revolutionary and Napoleonic eras. The title comes from the term childe, a medieval title for a young man who was a candidate for knighthood.

Origins

The poem contains elements thought to be autobiographical, as Byron generated some of the storyline from experience gained during his travels through Portugal, the Mediterranean and Aegean Sea between 1809 and 1811. Despite Byron's personal distastes for the poem [3], which he felt revealed too much of himself, it was published by John Murray and brought him a large amount of public attention. Byron stated that he woke up one day and "found myself famous.".

Byronic hero

The work provided the first example of the Byronic hero. The idea of the Byronic hero is one that consists of many different characteristics. The hero must have a rather high level of intelligence and perception as well as be able to easily adapt to new situations and use cunning to his own gain. It is clear from this description that this hero is well educated and by extension is rather sophisticated in his style. Aside from the obvious charm and attractiveness that this automatically creates, he struggles with his integrity, being prone to mood swings or bi-polar tendencies. Generally, the hero has a disrespect for any figure of authority, thus creating the image of the Byronic Hero as an exile or an outcast. The Hero also has a tendency to be arrogant and cynical, indulging in self-destructive behaviour which leads to the need to seduce women. Although his sexual attraction through being mysterious is rather helpful, this sexual attraction often gets the hero into trouble. The character of the Byronic Hero has appeared in novels, films and plays ever since.

IIOnce more upon the waters! yet once more!And the waves bound beneath me as a steedThat knows his rider. Welcome to their roar!Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead!Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on; for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sailWhere'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.

Traduzione

Strofa IIAncora una volta sulle acque! Sì, ancora una volta! E le onde sotto di me come undestriero che conosce il suo cavaliere. Sia benvenuto il loro tumulto! Veloce sia la loro guida,

ovunque essa conduca! Anche se l'albero maestro ritto dovesse oscillare comeuna canna, e la vela squarciata sventolando coprire la tempesta, ancora devoproseguire, perché sono come un'alga strappata dalla roccia, sulla schiumadell'Oceano, per navigare ovunque l'ondata possa spazzare, o l'alito della tempestaprevalere.

Childe Harold’s is going to sail for a new journey, he doesn’t really know where he is going nor why. All around him the rough ocean roars and strong winds blow. He says he can’t feel joy nor sadness leaving his country, England (Albion), as it used to occur to him in the past (“ ...but the hour’s gone by, when Albion’s lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye”.)

He is not worried nor frightened by the ocean: those waves are familiar to him (“as a steed who knows his rider” – lines 6-7). Even if the weather were worse than that and there were a storm (“though the strain’d mast should quiver as a reed, and the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale”), yet he would go on, he would leave, because he feels forced by a natural impulse, stronger than his will (“ for I am as a weed flung from the rock…”).

John Keats

He was born in London in 1795. His father was killed in an accident. In 1816 he abandoned his profession for poetry. He became friends with Shelley and in 1817 he published his first book of poems.He also met Wordsworth, who exercised an important influence on his works.

In the same year he left London and went to the Lake District, where he was impressed by the beautiful landscape.In 1819 he dedicated himself to writing and he produced some of his finest works, including his five great odes.He went to Italy and he died in 1820.

The OdesHe wrote Ode On a Grecian Urn, Ode to Psyche, To Autumn, Ode On Melancholy and Ode To a Nightingale. These are lyrical meditations on art and beauty, experience and aspirations, mortality and dreams.

"Ode on a Grecian Urn" is a poem written in 1819 and published in 1820. He was inspired to write the poem immediately after reading articles by Benjamin Haydon discussing art. However, Keats also knew of other works on classical Greek art and had firsthand exposure to the Elgin Marbles. All of these experiences reinforced his belief that classical Greek art was both idealistic and captured Greek virtues, the basis for the poem.

Divided into five stanzas of ten lines each, the ode contained a narrator's discourse about a series of designs on a Grecian urn. The poem focuses on two central scenes: one in which a lover eternally pursues a beloved without fulfillment, and another of villagers about to perform a sacrifice. The final lines of the poem declare that "'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' – that is all / Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know”:

Ode on a Grecian Urn

by John Keats

Thou still unravished bride of quietness!Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flow’ry tale more sweetly than our rhyme:What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheardAre sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;Not to the sensual ear, but, more endeared,

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!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shedYour 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 enjoyed,For ever panting and for ever young;

All breathing human passion far above,That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

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?

What little town by river or sea-shore,Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermoreWill silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with bredeOf marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold pastoral!When old age shall this generation waste,Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou sayst,

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,” -that is allYe know on earth, and all ye need to know.

* * *

Ode sopra un’urna greca

Tu della quiete ancora inviolata sposa,alunna del silenzio e del tempo tardivo,

narratrice silvestre che un raccontofiorito puoi così più che la nostra

rima dolcemente dire,quale leggenda adorna d’aeree fronde si posa

intorno alla tua forma?Di deità, di mortali o pur d’entrambi,

in Tempe o nelle vallid’Arcadia? Quali uominison questi o quali dei,quali ritrose vergini,

qual folle inseguimento, qual paura,quali zampogne e timpani,

quale selvaggia estasi?

Dolci le udite melodie: più dolci le non udite.Dunque voi seguite, tenere cornamuse, il vostro canto, non al facile

senso,ma, più cari, silenziosi concenti date all’intimo cuore.Giovine bello, alla fresca ombra mai può il tuo canto languire, né a

quei rami venir meno la fronda.Audace amante e vittorioso, mai mai tu potrai baciare, pur prossimo

alla meta, e tuttavia non darti affanno: ella non può sfiorire e, pur mai pago, quella per sempre tu amerai, bella per sempre.

O fortunate piante cui non tocca perder le belle foglie, né, meste, dire addio alla primavera;

te felice, cantore non mai stanco di sempre ritrovare canti per sempre nuovi;

ma, più felice Amore!fervido e sempre da godere, e giovane e anelante sempre, tu che di tanto eccedi ogni vivente passione umana, che in cuore un solitario

dolore lascia, e sdegno: amara febbre.

Chi son questi venienti al sacrificio?E, misterioso sacerdote, a quale verde altare conduci questa, che mugghia ai cieli, mite giovenca di ghirlande adorna i bei fianchi di

seta?Qual piccola città, presso del fiume o in riva al mare costruita, o

sopra il monte, fra le sue placide mura, si è vuotata di questa folla festante, in questo pio mattino?

Tu, piccola città, quelle tue strade sempre saranno silenziose e mai non un’anima tornerà che dica perché sei desolata.

O pura attica forma! Leggiadro atteggiamento, cui d’uomini e fanciulle e rami ed erbe calpestate intorno fregio di marmo chiude,

invano invano il pensier nostro ardendo fino a te si consuma,pari all’eternità, fredda, silente, imperturbabile effige.

Quando, dal tempo devastata e vinta, questa or viva progenie anche cadrà, fra diverso dolore, amica all’uomo,

rimarrai tu sola,“Bellezza è Verità” dicendo ancora:

“Verità è Bellezza”. Questo a voi, sopra la terra, di sapere è dato:questo, non altro, a voi, sopra la terra,

é bastante sapere.

The "Ode on a Grecian Urn" portrays what Keats sees on the urn himself, only his view of what is going on. The urn, passed down through many centuries portrays the image that everything that is going on on the urn is frozen.

In the first stanza, the speaker, standing before an ancient Grecian urn uses apostrophe when he speaks to the urn as if it is alive.

The speaker describes the pictures as if they are frozen in time. It is the "still unravish'd bride of quietness," "foster-child of silence and slow time." He speaks to the urn and not about the urn, he treats the urn like it is listening to him like a human. He also describes the urn as a "historian," which can tell a story. He wonders about the figures on the side of the urn, and asks what legend they portray, and where they are from. Keats uses an oxy moron "unravish'd bride" meaning a virgin bride, a bride who has not been taken though she is married.

In the second stanza, the speaker looks at another picture on the urn, this time of a young man playing a pipe, lying with his love beneath a tree. The speaker says that the piper's "unheard" melody's are sweeter than to a mortal's ear or melody, because they are unaffected by time. Though he can never kiss his lover

because he is frozen in time, He should not grieve because her beauty will never fade.

In the third stanza, he looks at the trees surrounding the lovers, and feels happy that they will never shed their leaves; he is happy for the piper because his songs will be "for ever new," and happy that the love of the boy and the girl will last forever, unlike mortal love, which slowly turns into "breathing human passion," and eventually vanishes, leaving behind only a "burning forehead, and a parching tongue."

In the fourth stanza, the speaker examines another picture on the urn, this one of a group of villagers leading a heifer to be sacrificed. He wonders where they are going "To what green altar, O mysterious priest...", and where they have come from. He imagines their little town, without the villagers, and tells it that its streets will "for evermore" be silent, for those who left it, frozen on the urn, will never return.

In the last stanza, the speaker again addresses the urn itself, saying that it, like Eternity, "doth tease us out of thought." He thinks that when his generation is long dead, the urn will remain, telling future generations its puzzleling story or lesson.

The final two lines in the poem "Beauty is truth, truth beauty" "that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know" could mean that Keats didn't really know the real truth and believed that beauty and truth was the truth to him alone, and it couldn't be argued because there is no definate truth.

La Belle Dame Sans MerciThere are 2 versions:

  Manuscript

                          I

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,Alone and palely loitering?The sedge has withered from the lake,And no birds sing.

                          II

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel's granary is full,And the harvest's done.

                          III

                   Published

                          I

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,Alone and palely loitering?The sedge is wither'd from the lake,And no birds sing.

                          II

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel's granary is full,And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,With anguish moist and fever-dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too.

                          IV

I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful - a faery's child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.

                          V

I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She looked at me as she did love,And made sweet moan.

                          VI

I set her on my pacing steed,And nothing else saw all day long,For sidelong would she bend, and singA faery's song.

                          VII

She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild, and manna-dew,And sure in language strange she said -'I love thee true'.

                          VIII

She took me to her elfin grot,And there she wept and sighed

                          III

I see a lily on thy brow,With anguish moist and fever dew;And on thy cheek a fading roseFast withereth too.

                          IV

I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful - a faery's child;Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.

                          V

I set her on my pacing steed,And nothing else saw all day long,For sideways would she lean, and singA faery's song.

                          VI

I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She look'd at me as she did love,And made sweet moan.

                          VII

She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild, and manna dew;And sure in language strange she said -'I love thee true.'

                          VIII

full sore,And there I shut her wild wild eyesWith kisses four.

                          IX

And there she lulled me asleepAnd there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! -The latest dream I ever dreamtOn the cold hill side.

                          X

I saw pale kings and princes too,Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans MerciHath thee in thrall!'

                          XI

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,With horrid warning gaped wide,And I awoke and found me here,On the cold hill's side.

                          XII And this is why I sojourn hereAlone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing.

She took me to her elfin grot,And there she gazed, and sighed deep,And there I shut her wild wild eyesSo kiss'd to sleep.

                          IX

And there we slumber'd on the moss,And there I dream'd - Ah! woe betide!The latest dream I ever dream'dOn the cold hill side.

                          X

I saw pale kings, and princes too,Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans MerciHath thee in thrall!'

                          XI

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,With horrid warning gaped wide,And I awoke, and found me hereOn the cold hill side.

                          XII

And this is why I sojourn here,Alone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,And no birds sing.

The poem describes the encounter between an unnamed knight and a mysterious fairy. It opens with a description of the knight in a barren landscape, "haggard" and "woe-begone". He tells the reader how he met a beautiful lady whose "eyes were wild"; he set her on his horse and they went together to her "elfin grot", where they began to make love. Falling asleep, the knight had a vision of "pale kings and princes", who warn him that "La Belle Dame sans Merci hath thee in thrall!" ( The Lady without pity has you in her charm !). He awoke to find himself on the same "cold hill's side" where he is now "palely loitering".Although La Belle Dame Sans Merci is short (only twelve stanzas of four lines each, with an ABCB rhyme scheme), it is full of enigmas. Because the knight is associated with images of death — a lily (a symbol of death in Western culture), paleness, "fading", "wither[ing]" — he may well be dead himself at the time of the story. He is clearly doomed to remain on the hillside, but the cause of this fate is unknown. A straightforward reading suggests that the Belle Dame entraps him, along the lines of tales like Thomas the Rhymer or Tam Lin. More recent feminist commentators have suggested that the knight in fact raped the Belle Dame, and is being justly punished — this is based on textual hints like "she wept, and sigh'd full sore". Ultimately, the decision comes down to whether Keats wrote the poem as a simple story, or as a story with a moral: given his other work, this may be more an evocation of feeling than an intellectual attempt at moralising.