Ode On a Grecian Urn

John Keats
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd 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 unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
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 shed
Your 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 enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
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 this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of 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 say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
Our own assumptions about literature (or how to teach it)
Springboard for understanding language (esp. vocabulary words)
Reflection of reality; reveals to us the truth about life
A way to teach morality
A way to understand history
encourage creativity – write their own poems
“appreciate” the poem itself, study the elements
What is Literature?
Terry Eagleton

Finding the essence of literature

Finding an ontological meaning of literature
Discuss four (4) definitions/theories of literature
--mostly will problematize by offering examples
to the negative
Will introduce the term ideology
Imaginative Writing (fiction)
Not imaginative but literature
Imaginative but not literature
Special Language
“Organized violence committed on everyday speech”
Content inferior to form
Defamilarization because of an automatized existence
Special language V. normal language (which also contains
special language)
Non-Pragmatic Language
No immediate practical use other than to refer
to the general state of affairs
Constructed as literature but read as history
Constructed as ??? but read as literature
Fine Writing or Belle Lettres
“Fine” is a subjective category
Fetish for objectivity
-- value judgements are highly variable
-- great literature is a construct
-- fact V. value judgement – facts are full of value judgements
Ideology
Concealed structure of values which informs and underlies
our value statements
The ways in which what we say and believe connect to the
power-structure and power-relations of the society we live in.
Construct
Ontological
Defamiliarization
Formalism
Ideology
problematize
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan th' expense of many a vanish'd sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
When I’m in disgrace with everyone and my luck has
deserted me, I sit all alone and cry about the fact that I’m an
outcast, and bother God with useless cries, which fall on
deaf ears, and look at myself and curse my fate, wishing that
I had more to hope for, wishing I had this man’s good looks
and that man’s friends, this man’s skills and that man’s
opportunities, and totally dissatisfied with the things I
usually enjoy the most. Yet, as I’m thinking these thoughts
and almost hating myself, I happen to think about you, and
then my condition improves—like a lark at daybreak rising
up and leaving the earth far behind to sing hymns to God.
For when I remember your sweet love, I feel so wealthy that
I’d refuse to change places even with kings.
FORMALIST RULES

Focus on literary form

Pass over the study of content
Study of literary devices such as
sound, imagery, rhythm, syntax, meter, rhyme, narrative
technique
Understand how ordinary language is deformed
THE WINDHOVER
Gerard Manley Hopkins

To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-

dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion

Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.
PIED BEAUTY
Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things—

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise Him.
SPRING AND FALL
Gerard Manley Hopkins

to a young child

Márgarét, áre you gríeving

Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
THE BLACK CAT
One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand, into
the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to
inhabit. The cat followed me down the steep stairs, and, nearly
throwing me headlong, exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an
axe, and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish dread which had
hitherto stayed my hand, I aimed a blow at the animal, which, of
course, would have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I
wished. But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife.
Goaded by the interference into a rage more than demoniacal, I
withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain.
She fell dead upon the spot without a groan.
This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself forthwith, and with
entire deliberation, to the task of concealing the body. I knew that I
could not remove it from the house, either by day or by night, without
the risk of being observed by the neighbors. Many projects entered
my mind. At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute
fragments, and destroying them by fire. At another, I resolved to dig a
grave for it in the floor of the cellar. Again, I deliberated about casting
it in the well in the yard—about packing it in a box, as if merchandise,
with the usual arrangements, and so getting a porter to take it from
the house. Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better expedient
than either of these. I determined to wall it up in the cellar, as the
monks of the Middle Ages are recorded to have walled up their
victims.
For a purpose such as this the cellar was well adapted. Its walls
were loosely constructed, and had lately been plastered
throughout with a rough plaster, which the dampness of the
atmosphere had prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of
the walls was a projection, caused by a false chimney, or fireplace,
that had been filled up and made to resemble the rest of the cellar.
I made no doubt that I could readily displace the bricks at this
point, insert the corpse, and wall the whole up as before, so that
no eye could detect anything suspicious.
And in this calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crowbar I
easily dislodged the bricks, and, having carefully deposited the
body against the inner wall, I propped it in that position, while with
little trouble, I re-laid the whole structure as it originally stood.
Having procured mortar, sand, and hair, with every possible
precaution, I prepared a plaster which could not be distinguished
from the old, and with this I very carefully went over the new
brickwork. When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right.
The wall did not present the slightest appearance of having been
disturbed. The rubbish on the floor was picked up with the
minutest care. I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself:
“Here at least, then, my labor has not been in vain.”
My next step was to look for the beast which had been the cause of
so much wretchedness; for I had, at length, firmly resolved to put it
to death. Had I been able to meet with it at the moment, there
could have been no doubt of its fate; but it appeared that the crafty
animal had been alarmed at the violence of my previous anger, and
forbore to present itself in my present mood. It is impossible to
describe or to imagine the deep, the blissful sense of relief which
the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom. It
did not make its appearance during the night; and thus for one
night, at least, since its introduction into the house, I soundly and
tranquilly slept; aye, slept even with the burden of murder upon
my soul.
The second and the third day passed, and still my tormentor
came not. Once again I breathed as a free man. The monster, in
terror, had fled the premises for ever! I should behold it no
more! My happiness was supreme! The guilt of my dark deed
disturbed me but little. Some few inquiries had been made, but
these had been readily answered. Even a search had been
instituted—but of course nothing was to be discovered. I looked
upon my future felicity as secured.
Upon the fourth day of the assassination, a party of the police came,
very unexpectedly, into the house, and proceeded again to make
rigorous investigation of the premises. Secure, however, in the
inscrutability of my place of concealment, I felt no embarrassment
whatever. The officers bade me accompany them in their search. They
left no nook or corner unexplored. At length, for the third or fourth time,
they descended into the cellar. I quivered not in a muscle. My heart beat
calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked the cellar
from end to end. I folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to
and fro. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to depart.
The glee at my heart was too strong to be restrained. I burned to say if
but one word, by way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their
assurance of my guiltlessness.
“Gentlemen,” I said at last, as the party ascended the steps,
“I delight to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you all
health and a little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen,
this—this is a very well-constructed house,” (in the rabid
desire to say something easily, I scarcely knew what I
uttered at all),—“I may say an excellently well-constructed
house. These walls—are you going, gentlemen?—these
walls are solidly put together”; and here, through the mere
frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily with a cane which I held
in my hand, upon that very portion of the brickwork behind
which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom.
But may God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the
Arch-Fiend! No sooner had the reverberation of my blows
sunk into silence, than I was answered by a voice from
within the tomb!—by a cry, at first muffled and broken, like
the sobbing of a child, and then quickly swelling into one
long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and
inhuman—a howl—a wailing shriek, half of horror and half
of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell,
conjointly from the throats of the dammed in their agony
and of the demons that exult in the damnation.
Of my own thoughts it is folly to speak. Swooning, I
staggered to the opposite wall. For one instant the party
upon the stairs remained motionless, through extremity of
terror and awe. In the next a dozen stout arms were toiling
at the wall. It fell bodily. The corpse, already greatly
decayed and clotted with gore, stood erect before the eyes
of the spectators. Upon its head, with red extended mouth
and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft
had seduced me into murder, and whose informing voice
had consigned me to the hangman. I had walled the
monster up within the tomb.
Norton Introduction to Theory and Criticism:

Introduction, What is Interpretation, What is Literature, Classical

Theory and Criticism, Medieval Theory and Criticism,
Renaissance and Neoclassical (pages 1-10)

Romantic, Marxism, Psychoanalysis, Formalism, Reader-response,

Structuralism (pages 11-20)

Poststructuralism, Feminism, Postcolonial, Cultural Studies (pages

21-26)
Introduction to Theory and Criticism
 
“Formerly the history of criticism was part of the
history of literature but . . . now the history of
literature is part of the history of criticism.”
 
theorists
anti-theorists who call for the study of literature
itself
Definitions of Interpretation and Literature
- Objective textual analysis
- Moral assessment
- Emotional response
- Literary evaluation
- Cultural critique
-----
- Represents reality
- Expresses author’s inner being
- Teaches morality
- Cleanses emotion
 ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT ASSUMPTIONS
  OPERATION NEEDED THE WORK ABOUT THE READER
explication Stresses the objective labor of   Interpreter needs to be a
deciphering a text in a methodical knowledgeable problem
way (close reading, line by line if solver
for a poem)

•What is Interpretation? exegesis Stresses the objective labor of Dense and enigmatic text in need of  

•What is Literature?
deciphering a text in a methodical elaborate explanation
way (close reading, line by line if
for a poem)

•Personal response, Personal response Intimate, casual, and subjective    

reading
appreciation, evaluation,
historical reception, explication, appreciation Intimate, casual, and subjective
reading
Reader-friendly work just waiting to
be enjoyed here and now
Eager and sympathetic
hedonist

exegesis, critique Critique Accentuates the distances in
values and time between the
interpreter and the work
Hidden set of questionable or
dangerous premises and values
undergirding a complex document
Critic at once suspicious and
ethical, committed to a set of
values directly from, or
directly opposed to , those
expressed in the text

Historical reception Accentuates the distances in    

values and time between the
interpreter and the work
  OPERATION NEEDED
explication Stresses the objective labor of
deciphering a text in a methodical way
(close reading, line by line if for a poem)
exegesis Stresses the objective labor of
deciphering a text in a methodical way
(close reading, line by line if for a poem)
Personal response Intimate, casual, and subjective reading
appreciation Intimate, casual, and subjective reading
Critique Accentuates the distances in values and
time between the interpreter and the
work
Historical reception Accentuates the distances in values and
time between the interpreter and the
work
ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THE WORK
 
Dense and enigmatic text in
need of elaborate explanation
Reader-friendly work just waiting Eager and sympathetic hedonist
to be enjoyed here and now
Hidden set of questionable or
dangerous premises and values
undergirding a complex
document
ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THE READER
Interpreter needs to be a
knowledgeable problem solver
 
Critic at once suspicious and
ethical, committed to a set of
values directly from, or directly
opposed to , those expressed in
the text
Formalism/Anglo-American New Criticism
 
“dominant critical practice…remains influential today”
 
“demonstrate through multiple (re)readings of the poetic texts
the intricacy of artistic forms”
“’Meaning’ is found … in carefully orchestrated and unified
textual elements” (image, tropes, tones, symbols)
 
“The literary work is (pre)conceived as an autonomous, highly
coherent, dramatic artifact…separate from and above the life of
the author and reader as well as separate from its social
context and from everyday language.”
“Problems with the seemingly sensible methods”
-overly aestheticized
- narrow theory of meaning
- vales retrospective analysis rather than the actual process of
trying to make sense of a work
- privileges freestanding spatial form over temporal flow and
critical distance over reader’s personal participation
- makes textual unity mandatory
- favor the well-made and compact rather than the sprawling
works and genres
 
   DEFINITION OF LITERATURE M.H. ABRAMS
DIAGRAM

Mimetic “ordinary understanding” Work-universe

Theory Literature represents life
Literature is a mirror to
•What is Literature? nature
•Representation, expression,
knowledge, poetic or rhetorical Expressive Stems from the author’s inner Work-artist
language, genre, text, discourse Theory being
Mirrors the inner soul of the
author

Didactic Source of knowledge, Work-audience

Theory insight, wisdom, even
prophecy

Formalist Literariness or poeticity renders Work alone

Theory literature distinctive and special.
 UNIVERSE
Dominant view is
that literature is é
mimetic and WORK
didactic.
  í î
ARTIST AUDIENCE
      
Semiotics Language is not a simple “crisis of reference”
transparent medium. means that literature
Modern View Language is a complex
interweaving of self-
(or “the text”)
cannot represent
to the referential, undecidable
relationships. Language
reality

Postmodern has an unstable

relationship to reality.

Turn Discourse Studies Language is uttered by Language is a social

embodied subjects text.
situated historically in Literature re-
contentious social speres presents and refracts
that are regulated by reality.
powerful institutions.
mimesis Literature represents, not “objective” or “natural”
reality but reality that is grounded in convention

expression Expresses the inner life of the author but that

inner life is regulated social phenomenon that
differs with time, location, and group of the
author.

didactic (but conveys the “cultural unconscious”—“archive of

mimetic and historical words, symbols, codes, instincts,
expressive) wishes, and conflicts characteristic of a people
and its era.