web site hit counter Poems and Ballads - Ebooks PDF Online
Hot Best Seller

Poems and Ballads

Availability: Ready to download

This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.


Compare

This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.

30 review for Poems and Ballads

  1. 5 out of 5

    Bryn Hammond

    As the lost white feverish limbs Of the Lesbian Sappho, adrift In foam where the sea-weed swims, Swam loose for the seas to lift... This is typical: it has Sappho, it has death, it has the sea. He was as much fixated on Sappho because she threw herself into the sea, as because in her he has a spokeswoman for himself and his explorations. Sappho's perfect for him, it's not just that he's a perv. Swinburne writes endlessly about the sea. I tried his novels and remember a few pages on a drowning man, th As the lost white feverish limbs Of the Lesbian Sappho, adrift In foam where the sea-weed swims, Swam loose for the seas to lift... This is typical: it has Sappho, it has death, it has the sea. He was as much fixated on Sappho because she threw herself into the sea, as because in her he has a spokeswoman for himself and his explorations. Sappho's perfect for him, it's not just that he's a perv. Swinburne writes endlessly about the sea. I tried his novels and remember a few pages on a drowning man, than which, I thought at the time, I never expect to find a more lifelike experience written down. But the sea's everywhere, and I bet he set himself the task to be like the sea: similar, yes, to itself, yesterday, but infinitely different, and who's bored by the sea? I don't know better sea descriptions. Poems & Ballads was his first splash and highly notorious. He's more attached to French Decadents than the English Pre-Raphaelites – he was Baudelaire's champion in England. In brief he explores cruelty; first the cruel instincts in love, then outward to the cruelty of the world. His pagans attack Christianity as too optimistic a religion, and in that untrue – as well as being life-negative and anti-sensual. 'Faustine' is about a decadent Roman, a female Faust, a queen given over to evil and evil lusts, but magnificent. One of his gaudy poems, that can be quite funny: You seem a thing that hinges hold, A love-machine With clockwork joints of supple gold – No more, Faustine. Is that steampunk? More gaudy is 'Dolores', a tribute to Our Lady of Pain... What tortures undreamt of, unheard of, Unwritten, unknown? Not any more. And published in Victorian England. But onto more serious poetry. 'Hymn to Proserpine' has a note 'After the proclamation in Rome of the Christian faith'. It's a pagan's lament for things past and lost, and uses the sea again, with ocean-rhythms: Will ye bridle the deep sea with reins, will ye chasten the high sea with rods? Will ye take her to chain her with chains, who is older than all ye Gods? All ye as a wind shall go by, as a fire ye shall pass and be past; Ye are Gods, and behold, ye shall die, and the waves be upon you at last. I've spent most time with 'Anactoria', which is Sappho in first person to her absconded lover. She too moves from cruelty towards Anactoria, in her abandonment, to a metaphysical statement. I think 'Anactoria' is a great poem. And once you get past the lesbian sadism, it culminates in Sappho's triumph as a poet. That may be an old claim – I shall not die. I'm a poet – but where is the claim made better? Sappho is not the weary sort, weary of life and sensation like Faustine; she's healthy, she has far too much self for that. Yes, she swings between moods, and has her exhausted death-moods: I would the sea had hidden us, the fire (Wilt thou fear that, and fear not my desire?) Severed the bones that bleach, the flesh that cleaves, And let our sifted ashes drop like leaves. But she's a presence, a personality, as the other women in this book aren't. She has a voice. Though at her lover's feet in one sentence, in the next she is above her, above her love. In her throes she can say, Last year when I loved Atthis, and this year/ When I love thee. You can see why Anactoria ran away. She has Aphrodite under thumb: Mine is she, very mine. Aphrodite offers her redress: ...and she bowed, With all her subtle face laughing aloud, Bowed down upon me, saying, 'Who doth thee wrong, Sappho?' She's nothing if not possessive: That I could drink thy veins as wine, and eat Thy breasts like honey! that from face to feet Thy body were abolished and consumed And in my flesh thy very flesh entombed! Her own cruelty morphs into that of God (singular): For who shall change with prayers or thanksgivings The mystery of the cruelty of things? And she goes on with a vision of the universe's cruelty. With a God behind it: Is not his incense bitterness, his meat Murder? his hidden face and iron feet Hath not man known, and felt them on their way Threaten and trample all things and every day? On behalf of the suffering she declares, Him would I reach, him smite, him desecrate; Pierce the cold lips of God with human breath And mix his immortality with death. The last third shifts to her victory over Anactoria, and over death, and over God in fact. Yea, thou shalt be forgotten like spilt wine, Except these kisses of my lips on thine Brand them with immortality; but me – Men shall not see bright fire nor hear the sea... and so on and so on, without they think of Sappho, or know her, for I Sappho shall be one with all these things. This is her conquest of God: But, having made me, me he shall not slay... Of me the high God hath not all his will.

  2. 4 out of 5

    Ashkan

    I wasn't interested in reading his works but now I just can't put the book down. I'm in love with Swinburne. Nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in every year from 1903 to 1907 and again in 1909 . his poems are so emotionally lifelike and his a such master in creating pictures within pictures within pictures.I'll definitely read his novels which I would bet that if Not better than his poems is at least as great as them. "If yet these twain survive your worldly breath, Joy trampling sorrow, I wasn't interested in reading his works but now I just can't put the book down. I'm in love with Swinburne. Nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in every year from 1903 to 1907 and again in 1909 . his poems are so emotionally lifelike and his a such master in creating pictures within pictures within pictures.I'll definitely read his novels which I would bet that if Not better than his poems is at least as great as them. "If yet these twain survive your worldly breath, Joy trampling sorrow, life devouring death, If perfect life possess your life all through And like your words your souls be deathless too, To-night, of all whom night encompasseth, My soul would commune with one soul of you. ... But if the riddles that in sleep we read, And trust them not, be flattering truth indeed, As he that rose our mightiest called them,—he, Much higher than thou as thou much higher than we— There, might we say, all flower of all our seed, All singing souls are as one sounding sea. ... Yet love and loathing, faith and unfaith yet Bind less to greater souls in unison, And one desire that makes three spirits as one Takes great and small as in one spiritual net Woven out of hope toward what shall yet be done Ere hate or love remember or forget. ... For love we lack, and help and heat and light To clothe us and to comfort us with might. What help is ours to take or give? but ye— O, more than sunrise to the blind cold sea, That wailed aloud with all her waves all night, Much more, being much more glorious, should you be. ... "A SONG IN SEASON" was just magnificent. and THE BRIDE'S TRAGEDY: "The wind wears roun', the day wears doun, The moon is grisly grey; There's nae man rides by the mirk muirsides, Nor down the dark Tyne's way." In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin. ..." he really pours his heart out on paper ,pouring it all over the words I wish I could give this 6 stars.

  3. 5 out of 5

    Marten Hoyle

    Astonishing, outstanding, extraordinary; pure genius. Swinburne is a sadly forgotten voice who was beyond any doubt one of the greatest practitioners of poetry. I hope more people will explore this beautiful soul.

  4. 5 out of 5

    Michael A.

    3.5/5. Good rhythm and decent rhyme but the poems, with the exception of a few, bled together for me.

  5. 4 out of 5

    Sananab

    I think that this could have been edited down into a five star book a third the size.

  6. 5 out of 5

    Merinde

    I think I chose the wrong place to start Swinburne. I feel like I should like it better but to be honest I was quite simply bored most of the time, although The Witch-Mother was nice. ...I really feel as though I ought to reread this. I mean, it's Swinburne. What is even wrong with me. I think I chose the wrong place to start Swinburne. I feel like I should like it better but to be honest I was quite simply bored most of the time, although The Witch-Mother was nice. ...I really feel as though I ought to reread this. I mean, it's Swinburne. What is even wrong with me.

  7. 4 out of 5

    Laura

    Laus Veneris is a beuatiful poem, full of explicit and flowing writing. I was entralled

  8. 5 out of 5

    Wen

  9. 4 out of 5

    Reg

  10. 4 out of 5

    Ryan

  11. 4 out of 5

    R.M Dreamer

  12. 4 out of 5

    L.A. Adolf

  13. 5 out of 5

    Aarron

  14. 5 out of 5

    katie

  15. 4 out of 5

    Jeremy

  16. 4 out of 5

    Paul

  17. 5 out of 5

    Susan

  18. 5 out of 5

    Maya

  19. 4 out of 5

    Iona Brooke

  20. 5 out of 5

    haley

  21. 5 out of 5

    Sean

  22. 5 out of 5

    Heather

  23. 5 out of 5

    Emmy

  24. 5 out of 5

    Nora

  25. 5 out of 5

    Poetry Train

  26. 4 out of 5

    Frank Solomon

  27. 5 out of 5

    Amy

  28. 5 out of 5

    Caliban

  29. 4 out of 5

    Penny Landon

  30. 5 out of 5

    Kim

Add a review

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Loading...
We use cookies to give you the best online experience. By using our website you agree to our use of cookies in accordance with our cookie policy.