FREE POEMS AND BALLADS & ATALANTA IN CALYDON PDF Algernon Charles Swinburne,Kenneth Haynes | 464 pages | 01 Apr 2001 | Penguin Books Ltd | 9780140422504 | English | London, United Kingdom The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems And Ballads, by Algernon Charles Swinburne. Algernon Swinburne Author Algernon Charles Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon was born in of an aristocratic family connected to Northumberland. He was educated for a time at Eton where he may have developed his fascination with flagellation and later matriculated at Balliol College, Oxford. Over the next few years, he travelled in France and Italy, wrote many poems, and led a Bohemian life Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon London. He lived for a time Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon Tudor House, with Rossetti. Under the influence of the death of his sister, the end of his romantic attachment to his cousin Mary Gordon, and the collapse of the Tudor House household and his strained friendship with Rossetti, Swinburne wrote Atalanta in Calydon, published inthe work that first brought him critical notice; Tennyson praised it highly. Poems and Ballads appeared in the next year and brought sensational success and the angry attention of critics who were outraged by its choice of topics sadomasochism, lesbianism, necrophilia, and the rejection of Christianity. His behaviour and bouts of drinking became worse, and he was often rescued by his family. Eventually, inhe was taken to live with his friend Theodore Watts later Watts-Dunton in Putney, under whose watchful eye Swinburne's health improved and drinking ceased. Many more volumes of poetry followed, including the second and third series' of Poems and Ballads and and Tristram of Lyonesse In addition, he published many dramas and works of literary criticism. He wrote in a wide variety of literary forms, from classical verse styles to medieval and Renaissance genres, from burlesques to ballads and roundels, and had a large influence on early Modern poets. Swinburne lived in comparative seclusion with Watts-Dunton at The Pines, Putney, until his death in Algernon Charles Swinburne. Hymn to Proserpine. Ilicet Hermaphroditus. The Garden of Proserpine. The Kings Daughter. Song before Death. Notes on Poems and Reviews. Map of places in Atalantain Calydon. A Lamentation. Love atSea. An Interlude. TheYear ofLove. Kenneth Haynes. Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon by Kenneth Haynes, Algernon Charles Swinburne | Waterstones Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Other editions. Enlarge cover. Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Details if other :. Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Kenneth Haynes Editor. Get A Copy. Paperbackpages. More Details Original Title. Other Editions 2. Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Average rating 4. Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Mar 10, Bryn Hammond rated it it was amazing Shelves: poets-playwrights. As the lost white feverish limbs Of the Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon 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. Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon perfect for him, it's not just that he's a perv. Swinburne writes endlessly about the sea. I tried his Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon 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 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. 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. 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. It's a pagan's lament for things past and lost, and uses the Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon 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 Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon 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. You can see why Anactoria ran away. She has Aphrodite under thumb: Mine is she, very mine. Aphrodite offers her redress 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? 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 Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon 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 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. Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon 18, Eadweard rated it liked it Shelves: poetry. Beautiful, sensual, pre-raphaelite-esque. How we should slumber, how we should sleep. I pray thee sigh not, speak not, draw not breath; Let life burn down, and dream it is not death. I would the sea had hidden us, the fire Wilt thou fear that, and fear not my desire? I feel thy blood against my blood: my pain Pains thee, and lips bruise lips, and vein stings vein. Let fruit be crushed on fruit, let flower on flower, Breast kindle breast, and either burn one hour. That with my tongue I felt Poems and Ballads & Atalanta in Calydon, and could taste The faint flakes from thy bosom to the waist! That I could drink thy veins as wine, and eat Thy breasts like honey! Ah, ah, thy beauty! Ah sweet, and sweet again, and seven times sweet, The paces and the pauses of thy feet! Ah sweeter than all sleep or summer air The fallen fillets fragrant from thine hair! Yea, though their alien kisses do me wrong If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or grey grief; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf. If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon; If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune. And her lips opened amorously, and said — I wist not what, saving one word — Delight. Feb 27, William Masero rated it it was amazing. Charles Swinburne is one of the most underrated poets ever. Mar 21, Leonardo marked it as to- keep-reference Shelves: poetry. Era un pesimista el mismo hombre que acusaba de pesimista al Cristianismo.