1. 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.
This passage is the final portion of Keats’ masterpiece of a poem, “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” The passage (as well as the poem as a whole) is an apostrophe addressing a Grecian urn. Keats here expresses a certain envy, as well as great admiration, towards the urn, which has found a way to escape the realities of the passage of time in a way that humans cannot. When Keats’ generation is wasted by old age (which is sadly ironic because Keats himself died so young), the urn will remain the way it has been for centuries, forever a friend to man in the midst of new kinds of woe. Keats conveys to us a message he has learned from the urn- “beauty is truth, and truth is beauty.” This is certainly a valid statement from the urn, as its beauty is something that will never fade. It represents a truth on which Keats can always depend. The urn is a “sylvan historian,” whose depictions tell the same story no matter how many years go by, unlike stories told by human mouths.
The last line of the poem, “that is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know,” can be interpreted in three ways. First of all, it could be the urn addressing Keats, telling him (and Keats’ audience) that true beauty never fades. Once you find your source of timeless beauty, which for John Keats is art, you can find a way to be happy in life, no matter how many misfortunes come your way. A second interpretation would be to see this line as Keats addressing the urn. In that case, Keats would be addressing the urn’s limitations. The urn, while it escapes the curse of time, is also a slave of it in the sense that the young groom will never kiss his bride, and the small Greek town will remain forever desolate. The scenes depicted on the urn are full of the hope of possibility, but can never experience satisfaction in the fulfillment of promises. Keats was a great believer that pain makes people who they are. He would certainly know this firsthand, as he watched his mother and brother taken away from him by tuberculosis. Thus Keats recognizes that the urn’s timelessness is at once both an element of beauty and shortcoming; the urn is much too naïve in regards to the concepts of risk and sorrow. A last possible interpretation of the line is that it may be advice given from Keats to his audience, imploring them to find their own source of restoration, as art proves to be for him. As long as this source of restoration has the same powers on you throughout your life, you will be able to withstand and conquer the hardships you come across.
2. Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
This passage is a delightful example of verbal irony from Shelley’s poem, “Ozymandias.” The excerpt gives the caption that is written beneath a crumbling, wasted statue of Ozymandias, a haughty, condescending, cruel-lipped king whose intention was for this marble rendering of his figure to inspire awe and fear for centuries. Instead, coupled with the desolate landscape that surrounds the statue, which makes it clear that none of the king’s works have survived the test of time, the statue inspires nothing but a chuckle from passersby. The ruins speak to the ephemeral nature of political power, in high contrast to the lasting nature of art. This message, in a way, is similar to the lesson given in Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn.”
In reality, the sculptor who was commissioned to make Ozymandias’ sculpture “had the last laugh.” The sculptor’s mocking hand depicted Ozymandias’ character all too well, and the king’s hubris, although undoubtedly disgusting to his unfortunate subjects, has been made to be amusing by the power of time. Shelley shows us here that art is the most formidable legacy one can leave. Perhaps this is a well-deserved form of self-flattery- his work, certainly, has resonated with me, and lastingly so.
3. O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessèd them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
This passage marks the moment of redemption for the Mariner of Coleridge’s poem, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” The Mariner’s sin was his suspicion towards a living, beautiful creation of God’s- the Albatross. He killed the Albatross because he could not believe in the existence of innocence, and was forced to pay the price when Life-in-Death rolled the dice and took the souls of his shipmates. But even then, the Mariner did not repent. He cursed the slimy creatures in the sea and himself for being alive and for being so undeserving of the privilege, when so many of his “beautiful” and innocent shipmates lay dead on the decks. At this point, the Mariner could not pray although his tongue wanted to, as he had not yet learned his lesson. But after lying there for a while, the Mariner begins to see these slithering creatures of the sea and their colors as beautiful, realizing that they, too, deserve to live, perhaps even more so than a sinner like he. The Mariner blesses them “unaware,” and the Albatross subsequently falls from his neck “like lead” into the sea, taking the weight of the Mariner’s sin with it. After many trials, the Mariner has finally been given the opportunity to atone for his sin, namely by telling the story of his guilt to absolute strangers who seem to need the lesson. Our Wedding-Guest, more likely than not, is only one of many.
In the end, the allegory that is the Mariner’s rime strives to teach a simple lesson- that he who prays best loves best. All creatures created by God are equal and beautiful in His eyes, and deserve to be treated as such. Furthermore, Coleridge sends us a message similar to one of Blake’s- that the natural state of God’s creation is innocence. The Mariner was punished simply for doubting that innocence. The message resonates greatly with the reader- I, too, found myself attempting to read symbolism into everything in the poem, particularly as a cause of Coleridge’s strangely detailed side notes. I believe these side notes were included not only to create the antique mood of the language of Coleridge’s choice, but also to remind the reader that the most important lessons are the ones that are simplest.
4. 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.
This passage is the last portion of Coleridge’s poem, “Kubla Khan.” It expresses Coleridge’s disappointment and frustration at having been interrupted while receiving his opium-induced dream of Kubla Khan’s pleasure dome. Coleridge seems to believe that if only he could have recalled his entire dream, “Kubla Khan” would have truly been his magnum opus. If he could remember the soft melody of the dulcimer of the Abyssinian maid, he would build with words the magnificent pleasure-dome, and the awe-inspiring result would have earned him a reputation as a deity who hath “drunk the milk of Paradise.”
The whole entire excerpt is a piece of extreme, egocentric self-flattery. It is written in the third-person, but the subject is nothing other than Coleridge himself, and this means of self-elevation is almost reminiscent of the use of the royal “We.” The readers realize here that Coleridge truly laments the loss of the rest of his masterpiece, though in a way, his loss is what defines the poem. His loss has rendered “Kubla Khan” not only a look into the sensory world of Coleridge’s drugged dreams, but also a revealing study of Coleridge’s psyche, the most prominent element of which is his incredible sense of self-importance. But surprisingly enough, this hubris proves to be both amusing and endearing, not to mention that the poem is, as a whole, amazingly well-written for someone who was, excuse my language, as high as the rooftop of Kubla’s pleasure-dome.
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.
This passage is the final portion of Keats’ masterpiece of a poem, “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” The passage (as well as the poem as a whole) is an apostrophe addressing a Grecian urn. Keats here expresses a certain envy, as well as great admiration, towards the urn, which has found a way to escape the realities of the passage of time in a way that humans cannot. When Keats’ generation is wasted by old age (which is sadly ironic because Keats himself died so young), the urn will remain the way it has been for centuries, forever a friend to man in the midst of new kinds of woe. Keats conveys to us a message he has learned from the urn- “beauty is truth, and truth is beauty.” This is certainly a valid statement from the urn, as its beauty is something that will never fade. It represents a truth on which Keats can always depend. The urn is a “sylvan historian,” whose depictions tell the same story no matter how many years go by, unlike stories told by human mouths.
The last line of the poem, “that is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know,” can be interpreted in three ways. First of all, it could be the urn addressing Keats, telling him (and Keats’ audience) that true beauty never fades. Once you find your source of timeless beauty, which for John Keats is art, you can find a way to be happy in life, no matter how many misfortunes come your way. A second interpretation would be to see this line as Keats addressing the urn. In that case, Keats would be addressing the urn’s limitations. The urn, while it escapes the curse of time, is also a slave of it in the sense that the young groom will never kiss his bride, and the small Greek town will remain forever desolate. The scenes depicted on the urn are full of the hope of possibility, but can never experience satisfaction in the fulfillment of promises. Keats was a great believer that pain makes people who they are. He would certainly know this firsthand, as he watched his mother and brother taken away from him by tuberculosis. Thus Keats recognizes that the urn’s timelessness is at once both an element of beauty and shortcoming; the urn is much too naïve in regards to the concepts of risk and sorrow. A last possible interpretation of the line is that it may be advice given from Keats to his audience, imploring them to find their own source of restoration, as art proves to be for him. As long as this source of restoration has the same powers on you throughout your life, you will be able to withstand and conquer the hardships you come across.
2. Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
This passage is a delightful example of verbal irony from Shelley’s poem, “Ozymandias.” The excerpt gives the caption that is written beneath a crumbling, wasted statue of Ozymandias, a haughty, condescending, cruel-lipped king whose intention was for this marble rendering of his figure to inspire awe and fear for centuries. Instead, coupled with the desolate landscape that surrounds the statue, which makes it clear that none of the king’s works have survived the test of time, the statue inspires nothing but a chuckle from passersby. The ruins speak to the ephemeral nature of political power, in high contrast to the lasting nature of art. This message, in a way, is similar to the lesson given in Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn.”
In reality, the sculptor who was commissioned to make Ozymandias’ sculpture “had the last laugh.” The sculptor’s mocking hand depicted Ozymandias’ character all too well, and the king’s hubris, although undoubtedly disgusting to his unfortunate subjects, has been made to be amusing by the power of time. Shelley shows us here that art is the most formidable legacy one can leave. Perhaps this is a well-deserved form of self-flattery- his work, certainly, has resonated with me, and lastingly so.
3. O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessèd them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
This passage marks the moment of redemption for the Mariner of Coleridge’s poem, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” The Mariner’s sin was his suspicion towards a living, beautiful creation of God’s- the Albatross. He killed the Albatross because he could not believe in the existence of innocence, and was forced to pay the price when Life-in-Death rolled the dice and took the souls of his shipmates. But even then, the Mariner did not repent. He cursed the slimy creatures in the sea and himself for being alive and for being so undeserving of the privilege, when so many of his “beautiful” and innocent shipmates lay dead on the decks. At this point, the Mariner could not pray although his tongue wanted to, as he had not yet learned his lesson. But after lying there for a while, the Mariner begins to see these slithering creatures of the sea and their colors as beautiful, realizing that they, too, deserve to live, perhaps even more so than a sinner like he. The Mariner blesses them “unaware,” and the Albatross subsequently falls from his neck “like lead” into the sea, taking the weight of the Mariner’s sin with it. After many trials, the Mariner has finally been given the opportunity to atone for his sin, namely by telling the story of his guilt to absolute strangers who seem to need the lesson. Our Wedding-Guest, more likely than not, is only one of many.
In the end, the allegory that is the Mariner’s rime strives to teach a simple lesson- that he who prays best loves best. All creatures created by God are equal and beautiful in His eyes, and deserve to be treated as such. Furthermore, Coleridge sends us a message similar to one of Blake’s- that the natural state of God’s creation is innocence. The Mariner was punished simply for doubting that innocence. The message resonates greatly with the reader- I, too, found myself attempting to read symbolism into everything in the poem, particularly as a cause of Coleridge’s strangely detailed side notes. I believe these side notes were included not only to create the antique mood of the language of Coleridge’s choice, but also to remind the reader that the most important lessons are the ones that are simplest.
4. 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.
This passage is the last portion of Coleridge’s poem, “Kubla Khan.” It expresses Coleridge’s disappointment and frustration at having been interrupted while receiving his opium-induced dream of Kubla Khan’s pleasure dome. Coleridge seems to believe that if only he could have recalled his entire dream, “Kubla Khan” would have truly been his magnum opus. If he could remember the soft melody of the dulcimer of the Abyssinian maid, he would build with words the magnificent pleasure-dome, and the awe-inspiring result would have earned him a reputation as a deity who hath “drunk the milk of Paradise.”
The whole entire excerpt is a piece of extreme, egocentric self-flattery. It is written in the third-person, but the subject is nothing other than Coleridge himself, and this means of self-elevation is almost reminiscent of the use of the royal “We.” The readers realize here that Coleridge truly laments the loss of the rest of his masterpiece, though in a way, his loss is what defines the poem. His loss has rendered “Kubla Khan” not only a look into the sensory world of Coleridge’s drugged dreams, but also a revealing study of Coleridge’s psyche, the most prominent element of which is his incredible sense of self-importance. But surprisingly enough, this hubris proves to be both amusing and endearing, not to mention that the poem is, as a whole, amazingly well-written for someone who was, excuse my language, as high as the rooftop of Kubla’s pleasure-dome.