2016年7月29日 星期五

"God's Grandeur" By Gerard Manley Hopkins

Gerard Manley Hopkins, one of English poetry's most brilliant stylistic innovators and one of the most distinguished poets of any age, was born on this day in 1844.
"God's Grandeur"
The world is charged with the grandeur of God. 
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
During his lifetime Gerard Manley Hopkins was known not as a poet but as a Jesuit priest, and his faith was essential to his work. His writings combine an intense feeling for nature with an ecstatic awareness of its divine origins, most remarkably expressed in his magnificent and highly original 'sprung rhythm.' This collection contains not only all of Hopkins’ significant poetry, but also selections from his journals, sermons, and letters, all chosen for their spiritual guidance and insight. Hopkins didn't allow the publication of most of his poems during his lifetime, so his genius was not appreciated until after his death. Now, more than a hundred years later, his words are still a source of inspiration and sheer infectious joy in the radiance of God's creation. READ an excerpt here:http://knopfdoubleday.com/b…/82697/mortal-beauty-gods-grace/

2016年7月28日 星期四

Ganymed (Goethe), music by Franz Schubert

Wie im Morgenglanze
Du rings mich anglühst,
Frühling, Geliebter!


Schwarzkopf / Fischer: Ganymed, D. 544 (Schubert)

Ganymed (Goethe)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"Ganymed" is a poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, in which the character of the mythic youth Ganymede is seduced by God (orZeus) through the beauty of Spring.
In early editions of the Collected Works it appeared in Volume II of Goethe's poems in a section of "Vermischte Gedichte" (assorted poems), shortly following the "Gesang der Geister über den Wassern", and the "Harzreise im Winter". It immediately follows "Prometheus", and the two poems together should be understood as a pair, one expressing the sentiment of divine love, the othermisotheism. Both belong to the period 1770 to 1775. Prometheus is the creative and rebellious spirit which, rejected by God, angrily defies him and asserts itself; Ganymede is the boyish self which is adored and seduced by God. One is the lone defiant, the other the yielding acolyte. As the humanist poet, Goethe presents both identities as aspects or forms of the human condition.
The poem was set to music by Franz Schubert and by Hugo Wolf.


Wie im Morgenglanze
Du rings mich anglühst,
Frühling, Geliebter!
Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne
Sich an mein Herz drängt
Deiner ewigen Wärme
Heilig Gefühl,
Unendliche Schöne!

Daß ich dich fassen möcht'
In diesen Arm!

Ach, an deinem Busen
Lieg' ich, schmachte,
Und deine Blumen, dein Gras
Drängen sich an mein Herz.
Du kühlst den brennenden
Durst meines Busens,
Lieblicher Morgenwind!
Ruft drein die Nachtigall
Liebend nach mir aus dem Nebeltal.
Ich komm', ich komme!
Wohin? Ach, wohin?

Hinauf! Hinauf strebt's.
Es schweben die Wolken
Abwärts, die Wolken
Neigen sich der sehnenden Liebe.
Mir! Mir!
In eurem Schosse
Umfangend umfangen!
Aufwärts an deinen Busen,
Alliebender Vater!
How, in the morning brightness,
You all around shine at me,
Springtime, Beloved!
With thousandfold love-bliss
The holy feeling
Of your eternal warmth
Presses itself upon my heart,
Unending beauty!

Could I but embrace you
In this arm!

Ah, upon your breast
I lie, languish,
And your blossoms, your grass
press upon my heart.
You cool the burning
Thirst of my bosom,
Lovely morning-wind!
There calls the nightingale
Lovingly for me from the misty vale.
I come, I come!
Whither, ah whither?

Up! Up it surges.
The clouds are leaning
Downwards, the clouds
Bow down to yearning love.
To me! To me!
In your lap, clouds,
Embracing, embraced!
Upwards to thy bosom,
All-loving Father!

2016年7月25日 星期一

"Kubla Khan"; "A Christmas Carol" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)

Anyone, it seems, can get into the poet's head. When Samuel Taylor Coleridge died—on July 25th 1834—he left behind magnificently sprawling notebooks in which he recorded almost minute by minute his insights, raptures, conversations, longings and opium-tinctured dreams
The poet and critic died on this day in 1834

Poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge died in Highgate, Middlesex, England on this day in 1834 (aged 61).
"Kubla Khan"
'Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.'
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.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) was the master impresario of English Romanticism -- an enormously erudite and tireless critic, lecturer, and polemicist who almost single-handedly created the intellectual climate in which the Romantic movement was received and understood. He was also, in poems such as 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,' 'Christabel,' and 'Kubla Khan.' the most uncanny, surreal, and startling of the great English poets.

"A Christmas Carol" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


The shepherds went their hasty way,
And found the lowly stable-shed
Where the Virgin-Mother lay:
And now they checked their eager tread,
For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,
A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.


They told her how a glorious light,
Streaming from a heavenly throng.
Around them shone, suspending night!
While sweeter than a mother's song,
Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,
Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.


She listened to the tale divine,
And closer still the Babe she pressed:
And while she cried, the Babe is mine!
The milk rushed faster to her breast:
Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn;
Peace, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born.


Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,
Poor, simple, and of low estate!
That strife should vanish, battle cease,
O why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of fame and glory?


And is not War a youthful king,
A stately Hero clad in mail?
Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
Him Earth's majestic monarchs hail
Their friends, their playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.


Tell this in some more courtly scene,
To maids and youths in robes of state!
I am a woman poor and mean,
And wherefore is my soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defiled,
That from the aged father's tears his child!


A murderous fiend, by fiends adored,
He kills the sire and starves the son;
The husband kills, and from her board
Steals all his widow's toil had won;
Plunders God's world of beauty; rends away
All safety from the night, all comfort from the day.


Then wisely is my soul elate,
That strife should vanish, battle cease:
I'm poor and of low estate,
The Mother of the Prince of Peace.
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn:
Peace, Peace on Earth! The Prince of Peace is born!


Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) was the master impresario of English Romanticism -- an enormously erudite and tireless critic, lecturer, and polemicist who almost single-handedly created the intellectual climate in which the Romantic movement was received and understood. He was also, in poems such as 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,' 'Christabel,' and 'Kubla Khan.' the most uncanny, surreal, and startling of the great English poets.

The Vale of Soul-Making

How John Keats coped with fever.
In 1821, three months after he learned of Keats’s death, Percy Shelley wrote Adonaïs: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats, in which he described the poet as a delicate, fragile young flower of a man:

2016年7月19日 星期二

Shakespeare Lives - Shakespeare's Sonnets - BBC

BBC Shakespeare
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate"

From BBC Doctors to 'spitting Shakespeare' - explore a wealth of delights in our Sonnets Collection, including treats from BBC Radio 3,British Council, The Hay Festival, The British Library, Royal Shakespeare Company, BFI and BBC iWonder.

Shakespeare Lives - Shakespeare's Sonnets - BBC
Enjoy our collection of Sonnet-related treats - from The BBC, Shakespeare Lives Partners and elsewhere.


Choose The Eye Your Attracted To And Discover What It Reveals About You
William Shakespeare said: "The eyes are the window to your soul." You can tell a lot about what a person is thinking or feeling by looking...

DAILYVIBES.ORG · 1,432 次分享

Hear What Shakespeare Sounded Like in the Original Pronunciation
What did Shakespeare’s English sound like to Shakespeare? To his audience? And how can we know such a thing as the phonetic character of the language spoken 400 years ago?

OPEN CULTURE · 16,140 次分享

Sir Ian McKellen Releases New Apps to Make Shakespeare’s Plays More Enjoyable & Accessible
FYI: Ian McKellen, who first made his reputation performing at the Royal Shakespeare Company in the 1970s and 80s, has just released the first of a series of iPad apps meant to make Shakespeare's plays more accessible, especially for high school and college students. httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdUpmKlkaF0 As McKellen explains above, Shakespeare's plays were originally meant to be seen performed live in a theatre, not read as books.

OPEN CULTURE · 25,348 次分享

2016年7月14日 星期四

OLIVER TWIST by Charles Dickens. Pepys London Diaries

"'If the law supposes that,' said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, 'the law is a ass — a idiot. If that's the eye of the law, the law is a bachelor; and the worst I wish the law is, that his eye may be opened by experience — by experience'."
--from OLIVER TWIST by Charles Dickens
Oliver is an orphan living on the dangerous London streets with no one but himself to rely on. Fleeing from poverty and hardship, he falls in with a criminal street gang who will not let him go, however hard he tries to escape. One of the most swiftly moving and unified of Charles Dickens’s great novels, Oliver Twist is also famous for its re-creation–through the splendidly realized figures of Fagin, Nancy, the Artful Dodger, and the evil Bill Sikes–of the vast London underworld of pickpockets, thieves, prostitutes, and abandoned children. Victorian critics took Dickens to task for rendering this world in such a compelling, believable way, but readers over the last 150 years have delivered an alternative judgment by making this story of the orphaned Oliver Twist one of its author’s most loved works. This edition reprints the original Everyman's Library’s introduction by G. K. Chesterton and includes twenty-four illustrations by George Cruikshank.


 1949年《胡適日記》是王兆熙兄所贈的英國製 the Dataday Diary for 1949  。這是家百年老店* 2012還存活。胡適用的應是Desk Diaries 系列的A51PASA53PS WO5PAS  (該公司不知為什麼取Pepys London Diaries 系列因為這17世紀的名家用的代碼/密碼寫的日記,甚詳,不像胡適1949年逃亡上海,被共產黨當「戰犯」,被蔣介石說要他「去美國走走」;沒帶什麼書出來,所以上海幾家圖書館等找書讀。每天的日記多最多數行。換句話說這是最狼狽不堪的一年。
*About Us
In 1839, only a few months after Charles Dickens wrote Oliver Twist, the TJ & J Smith partnership was formed in London to manufacture a range of fine diaries, almanacs, quill pens and special metallic paper.

2016年7月13日 星期三

Richard III, Henry V





"I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them..."
Watch a classic interpretation of the great opening speech from Richard III by Ian Holm, later to find international fame in Alien and The Lord of the Rings Trilogy and 哈比人電影(台灣)
Part of our Great Shakespeare Speeches collection with Royal Shakespeare Company http://bit.ly/GreatSSpeech

"Now is the winter of our discontent..." - Act 1, Scene 1

This page lists all recordings of A.M.D.G. (Ad majorem Dei gloriam, 'To the greater glory of God'), by Benjamin Britten (1913-77) on CD. Generally, more recent CDs are listed first, but with priority given to items that are in stock.
Henry V, English hero

Ad majorem Dei gloriam

Nov 19th 2009
From The Economist print edition
Illustration by Daniel Pudles
1415: Henry V’s Year of Glory. By Ian Mortimer. Bodley Head; 640 pages; £20. Buy from Amazon.co.uk
WHAT Shakespeare does for a monarch, it is very hard to undo. Richard III, though softened and cleaned up by assiduous researchers, still limps murderously through the public imagination. And Henry V, even soberly revisited, never quite loses that stirring flap of standards, or the thwack of the Dauphin’s tennis balls deep into the hazard.
Ian Mortimer, who has galloped with panache through the English monarchs from Edward II onwards, promises a different Henry: a king set “on the path to his own self-destruction and the negation of his humanity”. He thinks 1415 marks the crucial moment on that path: the year when Henry, pretending to want peace with France, in fact slowly mobilised the whole of England for war. His last letter to the king of France, on July 28th, just before the invasion, threatened “a deluge of human blood”. He delivered.
This was also a year when rebels were stirring in the kingdom and when religious dissidents, from the Lollards at home to Jan Hus abroad, claimed their own way to salvation. Absolutism and divine right were under attack. The king, who exemplified both, leapt to their defence. Mr Mortimer’s Henry—rigid, unsmiling, religious and obsessive as the year begins—ends it as “a militant Catholic fundamentalist”.
The device of putting just one year under the microscope is a bold one in the medieval context. Medieval sources are scanty. Virtually no royal accounts survive for 1415, and almost no private letters. Mr Mortimer nonetheless luxuriates in what he has: grants to chantries and hospitals, rewards for service, reports from ambassadors, requests for provisioning (all those thousands of longbows, arrows, barrels of beer, sides of beef) and the ceaseless pawning of a large part of Henry’s treasure to pay for his whim of a war. Day by day, the reader is in the thick of things.

The effect of this is new and unexpected, in several ways. The drama of the year is heightened, as the drumbeat of the days rolls towards Agincourt. The religiosity of the age is emphasised, as the saints’ days and the natural rituals of the year gain new prominence in the narrative. Medieval bureaucracy, with its constant duplicating, petitioning and delaying, sometimes threatens to bury the reader. The personalities emerge sharper, firmer and more duplicitous.
And what of Henry? Shakespeare’s image of the king has certainly been altered—but to workaholic, rather than villain. Here was a man who saw personally to everything, whether a petition from a gunner, or the proper painting of antelopes on his flagship, the Trinity Royal, or the ordering of horseshoe nails. He thought of nothing but ruling England, for God. The three most memorable images in this book, among many, are of the king asleep, in his grand bed, chastely alone; sitting on his cushion in his great chamber, listening to his subjects’ problems; and scribbling, at the end of his will, the plea of a man who has taken on far too much: “Jesu Mercy and Gremercy Ladie Marie help.”

Hymn to St. Cecilia

Britten: Hymn to St Cecilia


Hymn to St. Cecilia


TEXT: W.H. AUDEN (1907-1973)


In a garden shady this holy lady 
With reverent cadence and subtle psalm, 
Like a black swan as death came on 
Poured forth her song in perfect calm: 
And by ocean's margin this innocent virgin 
Constructed an organ to enlarge her prayer, 
And notes tremendous from her great engine 
Thundered out on the Roman air. 
Blonde Aphrodite rose up excited, 
Moved to delight by the melody, 
White as an orchid she rode quite naked 
In an oyster shell on top of the sea; 
At sounds so entrancing the angels dancing 
Came out of their trance into time again, 
And around the wicked in Hell's abysses 
The huge flame flickered and eased their pain. 
Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions 
To all musicians, appear and inspire: 
Translated Daughter, come down and startle 
Composing mortals with immortal fire.


I cannot grow; 
I have no shadow 
To run away from,
I only play. 
I cannot err; 
There is no creature 
Whom I belong to, 
Whom I could wrong. 
I am defeat 
When it knows it 
Can now do nothing 
By suffering. 
All you lived through, 
Dancing because you 
No longer need it 
For any deed. 
I shall never be Different. Love me. 
Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions 
To all musicians, appear and inspire: 
Translated Daughter, come down and startle 
Composing mortals with immortal fire.


O ear whose creatures cannot wish to fall, 
O calm of spaces unafraid of weight, 
Where Sorrow is herself, forgetting all 
The gaucheness of her adolescent state, 
Where Hope within the altogether strange 
From every outworn image is released, 
And Dread born whole and normal like a beast 
Into a world of truths that never change: 
Restore our fallen day; O re-arrange. 
O dear white children casual as birds, 
Playing among the ruined languages, 
So small beside their large confusing words, 
So gay against the greater silences 
Of dreadful things you did: O hang the head, 
Impetuous child with the tremendous brain, 
O weep, child, weep, O weep away the stain, 
Lost innocence who wished your lover dead, 
Weep for the lives your wishes never led. 
O cry created as the bow of sin Is drawn across our trembling violin. 
O weep, child, weep, O weep away the stain. 
O law drummed out by hearts against the still 
Long winter of our intellectual will. 
That what has been may never be again. 
O flute that throbs with the thanksgiving breath 
Of convalescents on the shores of death. 
O bless the freedom that you never chose.
O trumpets that unguarded children blow 
About the fortress of their inner foe. 
O wear your tribulation like a rose. 
Blessed Cecilia, appear in visions 
To all musicians, appear and inspire: 
Translated Daughter, come down and startle 
Composing mortals with immortal fire.

This piece was performed on Octarium’s Ode to Music Concert, November 2003, A Cappella Masterpieces, April 2005 and Saints and Angels, April 2008.

This piece is also featured on Octarium's self-titled debut recording.

2016年7月11日 星期一

"The Egg and the Machine" by Robert Frost

"The Egg and the Machine" by Robert Frost
He gave the solid rail a hateful kick.
From far away there came an answering tick
And then another tick. He knew the code:
His hate had roused an engine up the road.
He wished when he had had the track alone
He had attacked it with a club or stone
And bent some rail wide open like switch
So as to wreck the engine in the ditch.
Too late though, now, he had himself to thank.
Its click was rising to a nearer clank.
Here it came breasting like a horse in skirts.
(He stood well back for fear of scalding squirts.)
Then for a moment all there was was size
Confusion and a roar that drowned the cries
He raised against the gods in the machine.
Then once again the sandbank lay serene.
The traveler's eye picked up a turtle train,
between the dotted feet a streak of tail,
And followed it to where he made out vague
But certain signs of buried turtle's egg;
And probing with one finger not too rough,
He found suspicious sand, and sure enough,
The pocket of a little turtle mine.
If there was one egg in it there were nine,
Torpedo-like, with shell of gritty leather
All packed in sand to wait the trump together.
'You'd better not disturb any more,'
He told the distance, 'I am armed for war.
The next machine that has the power to pass
Will get this plasm in it goggle glass.'
From one of the most brilliant and widely read of all American poets, a generous selection of lyrics, dramatic monologues, and narrative poems--all of them steeped in the wayward and isolated beauty of Frost's native New England. Includes his classics "Mending Wall, " "Birches, " and "The Road Not Taken, " as well as poems less famous but equally great.

Ken Russell - "Song of Summer: Frederick Delius" ;Delius - Songs of Farewell

Ken Russell - "Song of Summer: Frederick Delius" - 1968 - Full Film
Public interest in Delius's life was stimulated in the UK in 1968, with the showing of the Ken Russell film Song of Summer on BBC Television. The film depicted the years of the Delius–Fenby collaboration; Fenby co-scripted with Russell. Max Adrian played Delius, withChristopher Gable as Fenby and Maureen Pryor as Jelka.[96][97]
Based on Eric Fenby's 1936 memoir 'Delius as I knew him', it traces the last years of Frederick…
Hanching Chung In this part of 'Yorkhire Television's' classic documentary - Eric Fenby revisits 'Grez sur Loing' in France and recalls aspects of his unique relationship with Frederick Delius. Song of Farewell (part 2)https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGeXyy2V8PM
In this part of 'Yorkhire Television's' classic documentary - Eric Fenby revisits

Delius - Songs of Farewell (Last Night of the Proms 2012)

1930: Songs of Farewell (setting of poems by Walt Whitman)

Frederick Delius (1862 - 1934) - Vocal Texts and Translations at the ...

Jun 25, 2016 - I hear in the night (Text: Frederick Delius after Holger Henrik Herholdt Drachmann) [x] GER; no. ... Four Old English Lyrics .... I stand as on some mighty eagle's beak ([No title]) (in Songs of Farewell) (Text: Walt Whitman); It was ...

Songs of Farewell - Delius: I stand as on some mighty eagle's beak ...


Mar 17, 2015 - Uploaded by Jayne Anne Strutt
The second of five Songs of Farewell 1929-1930 - One of the finest achievements of the Delius and Fenby ...