[영문학 영시] strange fits of passion have I known - wordsworth

Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle 26 In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle, 27 That toward caunterbury wolden ryde. 28 The chambres and the stables weren wyde, 29 And wel we weren esed atte beste. 30 And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, 31 So hadde I spoken with hem everichon 32 That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, 33 And made forward erly for to ryse, 34 To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse. 35 But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space, 36 Er that I ferther in this tale pace, 37 Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun 38 To telle yow al the condicioun 39 Of ech of hem,

of my pain,3 Pleasures might cause her read, reading might make her know,4 Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,5 I sought fit words to paint the backest face of woe,6 Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain, 7 Oft turning others leaves, to see if thence would flow8 Some fresh fruitful showers upon my sunburnt brain.9 But words came halting forth, wanting Inventions stay:10 Invention, Natures child, fled step-dame Studys blows;11 And others feet still seemed but stranger in my way12 Thus great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,13 Biting my truan

of “Tintern Abbey” is memory—specifically, childhood memories of communion with natural beauty.Tintern AbbeyThe speaker proclaims that he has been the victim of “strange fits of passion”; he says that he will describe one of these fits, but only if he can speak it “in the Lover’s ear alone.” This direct, unadorned lyric is one of the most striking and effective of the many simple lyrics like it, written by Wordsworth in the mid to late 1790s and included in the first edition of Lyrical Ballads.Strange fits of passion have I knownthe “Intimations of Immortality” ode is

Strange Fits Of Passion Have I KnownStrange fits of passion have I known:And I will dare to tell,But in the Lovers ear alone,What once to me befell.When she I loved looked every dayFresh as a rose in June.I to her cottage bent my way,Beneath an evening moon.Upon the moon I fixed my eye,All over the wide lea;With quickening pace my horse drew nighThose paths so dear to me.And now we reached the orchard plot;And, as we climbed the hill,The pinking moon to Lucys cotCame near, and nearer stillIn one of those sweet dreams I slept,Kind Natures gentlest boon!And all the while m

of unageing intellect.Ⅱ9 An aged man is but a paltry thing,10 A tattered coat upon a stick, unless11 Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing12 For every tatter in its mortal dress,13 Nor is there singing school but studying14 Monuments of its own magnificence ;15 And therefore I have sailed the seas and come16 To the holy city of Byzantium.Ⅲ17 O sages standing in Gods holy fire18 As in the gold mosaic of a wall,19 Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,20 And be the singing-masters of my soul.21 Consume my heart away; sick with desire22 And fastened to a dying ani