Coleridge
April 1st 2006 09:54
Okay so some of you might not have heard of him, but he’s one of the greatest poets ever. He was the youngest of ten children, and one of the earliest, if not the first Romantic writer. The Romantics were a group of nineteenth century poets who were rebelling against eighteenth century forms of writing (which was in a nutshell poets who used really big words no one understood) through simplistic writing. They drew much of their inspiration from the French Revolution and are famous for their love of nature. In fact during some seasons Coleridge was run out of his home because he didn’t have the heart to kill the mice there. He especially hated the idea of mouse traps cause he believed it was unbelievable cruel to offer mice cheese and then break their backs. On a different note he spent his life battling an addiction to opium. In the end it ended up isolating him from everyone who loved him.
However one good thing that came out his opium use was Kubla Khan. The story goes that after one of his little opium episodes Coleridge falls asleep and has a dream. He wakes up and quickly writes the dream down in the form of a poem, but someone calls on the door with some business. By the time he gets back Coleridge has lost his original momentum. As you can imagine, the man that dragged Coleridge away is now almost an icon of annoying people who disturb you during a creative moment. The poem is fascinating, sensual and moving. The thing is Coleridge never published it, he recited it to anyone who was interested but never really acknowledged the poem. Some say that this is because of the pagan imagery in the poem and well Coleridge was one of the great Christian writers of the time so he couldn’t ever accept Kubla Khan. He wrote other classics as well, like the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but we’ll leave that for another day.
For now here’s Kubla Khan:
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
How to use this in a cocktail party:
If people start talking about literature you can bring up Coleridge and impress everyone about everything you know about him.
If you really want to make an impression you can try memorising bits of the poem and reciting it when conversation falls damp and ask people what they think about the poem.
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Comment by Cibbuano
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Comment by Sara
Thanks for the support Matt!
Comment by Matt
Any chance you could have some philosophy in you're blog soon? paticularly western, ie Kant, Rosseau, Socretes, Nietzsche, Locke etc? This might help: IEP
Comment by Sara