Ch 17: The Romantic Era - Gordon State College

Ch 17: The Romantic Era - Gordon State College

Ch 17: The Romantic Era See Course Outline for reading assignment. You should print the slides for any paintings that are not shown in your book. Featured Works All of the Romantic paintings shown in this slide presentation or referred to in the chapter. Shelleys Ode to the West Wind Whitmans Song of Myself Other important works

Compositions by Beethoven Chopins nocturnes Operas by Verdi and Wagner that we discuss Terms Romanticism nocturne opera ode (in literature) iambic pentameter

Overview of Romanticism What are the four characteristics of Romanticism described early in the chapter? (add information on Romanticism and the cultural background from class lecture to your notes) Instrumental Music Ludwig van Beethoven: Know about his life (pp. 450-51). In what ways does the Pathetique express the

Romantic spirit? r-s-Schiff/e/028947631002 Frederic Chopin: Be able to define the term nocturne and explain how it is romantic. Opera Music Giuseppe Verdi and Richard Wagner: How did

opera begin to move in a different direction through these composers? In what ways does Verdis La Traviata exhibit Romantic characteristics? How did Wagners opera fulfill his goal of creating the complete artwork? What are Romantic characteristics of The Ring of the Nibelung and Tristan and Isolde? Art Be able to describe the Romantic elements in the following paintings.

Goya: Saturn Devouring One of His Sons Friedrich: Cloister Graveyard in the Snow Constable: Dedham Lock and Mill Delacroix: Liberty Leading the People Heade: Two Fighting Hummingbirds with Two Orchids Cole: The Clove, Catskill Mountains

Eakins: Cowboy Singing Eakins: Swimming Hole Literature Because we lack the time to read and consider many of the great Romantic writers, we will focus on Percy Byshe Shelleys Ode to the West Wind and Walt Whitmans Song of Myself. Read these poems on the following slides.

Other writers of the Romantic period include Goethe, Wordsworth, Byron, Keats, Hugo, Tolstoy, Dickens, and Thoreau. Ode to the West Wind Percy Bysshe Shelley I O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The wingd seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odors plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear! II Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,

Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread On the blue surface of thine aery surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapors, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear! III Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! IV If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even

I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud. V Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

excerpts from Song of Myself Walt Whitman 1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,

Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy. ... 2

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked, I am mad for it to be in contact with me. ... Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the earth much?

Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self. 52

The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yaws over the roofs of the world. The last scud of day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.

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