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Credits 2 Aug , am. Art fight Still crying over this, he's perfect. Credits 13 Sep , am.
2015 Syrah "Nocturne"
From Art Fight Thank you so much, he is perfect! Credits 3 Aug , am. Credits 16 May , pm. Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time when screech-owls cry, and bandogs howl, And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves; That time best fits the work we have in hand. Less than a century later, in stunning contradiction, John Norris of Bemerton's "Hymn to Darkness" published serenely lauds night as rapturous and benign, agent equally of highest holiness and poetic inspiration. Tis hard to tell whether thy reverend shade Has more good Votaries or Poets made, From thy dark caves were Inspirations given And from thick groves went vows to Heaven.
Norris is here celebrating and consolidating the emergence of a new literary genre, the poetic nocturne: one intent on refiguring those cold, dead and sunless hours feared by most of mankind over millennia into an order of exquisite and numinous experience. The genre of poetic nocturne, then, needs dating not to the eighteenth century and the verse of such as Parnell, Young and Gray as has literary history hitherto, but to the Renaissance: whose poetry, masques and painting, in revaluing night as a time of beauty and profundity, overturn, I will argue, the construction predominant in classical and medieval traditions.
Those earlier approaches themselves, Greek, Roman, biblical, patristic and medieval, have never been systematically investigated for their representation of night. This paper, accordingly, will seek to sketch a basic poetic tradition, and its elevation to independent genre, hitherto uncharted: from whose Renaissance productions eighteenth-century and Romantic writing will often derive, and at whose heart lie Shakespeare, Jonson, and perhaps above all, the lyric but combative genius of Milton. The Vision of the Deity is made More sweet and Beatifick by thy shade.
But we poor tenants of this Orb below Don't here thy excellencies know, Till Death our understandings does improve, And then our Wiser ghosts thy silent night-walks love. Night-walking, then, once criminalised as a menace to social order, may now prove a ground of its conciliative recovery. Classical Traditions. Asleep are the peaks and watercourses of the mountains, the headlands and ravines, all creeping things which the black earth feeds, wild beasts and the race of the bees, and monsters in the depths of the dark sea; asleep are the tribes of the broad-winged birds.
Now she is preeminent among the Lydian women, as when the sun has set, the rosy-fingered moon surpasses all the stars.
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It throws its light over the salt sea, and equally over the richly flowered fields. The lovely dew falls, the roses bloom. And often she walks up and down remembering gentle Atthis with desire in her tender heart, and her soul is devoured by longing. Objectifying the delicate rapture of the lover's feeling, such nocturne simultaneously establishes the pitch of her suffering, by constituting night as the order of natural harmony from which she is sleeplessly in exile.
Virgil likewise draws night as a paradise of health hushed in the serenity of sleep from which lonely Dido is expelled. It was night, and tired creatures all over the world were enjoying kindly sleep. Forests and fierce seas were at rest, as the circling constellations glided in their midnight course.
Every field, all the farm animals, and the colourful birds were silent, all that lived across miles of glassy mere and in the wild country's ragged brakes, lying still, under the quiet night in a sleep which smoothed each care away from hearts which had forgotten life's toil. But not so the Phoenician queen. This passage is the direct inspiration of sonnets by Petrarch and Surrey, a millennium and a half later. There are nights when the upper air is windless and the stars in heaven stand out in their full splendour round the bright moon; when every mountain-top, headland and ravine starts into sight, as the infinite depths of the sky are torn open to the very firmament; when every star is seen, and the shepherd rejoices.
Such and so many were the Trojans' fires, twinkling in front of Ilium midway between the ships and the streams of Xanthus. The ambiguity which Homer masterfully constructs here, windless nocturnal peace fused with rousing, abnormal brilliance, connects just the ambivalence we have seen toward night, with the conflicting feelings of the combatants: grateful for calm and respite, they are also pierced by a drama sharp upon the nerves. All alone she wandered out into the deep stillness of midnight.
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Men, birds and beasts were sunk in profound repose; there was no sound in the hedgerows; the leaves hung mute and motionless; the dewy air was still. Only the stars twinkled. Stretching up her arms to these, she turned thrice about, thrice sprinkled water.
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Only evil things travel by night, as the Nightingale tartly reminds the Owl; and a "nightwalker" was one who roamed at night for criminal purposes: like Grendel, defined as a "sceadu-genga. The air with sparks of living fire was spangled, And Night, deep-drenched in misty Acheron, Heaved up her head, and half the world upon Breathed darkness forth. Now the Ocean Tytan quencht his flame, And summoned Cynthya to set up her light, The heavens with their glorious starry frame, Preparde to crowne the sable-vayled night.
Oft on a plot of rising ground I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore Swinging slow with sullen roar. The eye travels downward, among satisfactions that are sublunar.
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Lorenzo's romantic eye is scenic: "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! The period abounds in evidence of a new and empiric descriptive particularity. If Fulke Greville can only remark, traditionally, how "In Night. No Ray of Light the Heart to cheer, But little twinkling Stars appear; Which like faint dying embers ly, Fit nor to work, nor travel by.
Perhaps to him they Torches are, Who guides Night's sovreign's drowsy Car, And him they may befriend so near, But us they neither light, nor cheer. William Browne expands magnificently, with the help of a hint from Ovid, the old topic of night's desertedness and silence:. All the upper world lay in a trance. Only the curled streams soft chidings kept; Dry summer's dust, in fearful whisp'rings stirr'd, As loath to waken any singing bird.
This new detailed materiality in portrayal of the night is to be borrowed by the Countess of Winchelsea for her chronographia in the "Nocturnal Reverie," and by Keats, in "Hyperion. What ever 'tis, whose beauty here below Attracts thee thus and makes thee stream and flow, And wind and curl, and wink and smile, Shifting thy gate and guile. But the recovery of the sublunar zone at night extends, as we have seen, to much in contemporary poetry. This new nocturnal "bridall of the earth and sky," this supplementation of the vertical imagination by a horizontal one, had been expressed in an early state of ambivalence in The Merchant of Venice.
These feelings that're surging through me Aim at the distant fate to wherever I want them to reach higher to the end of the night sky And pass beyond the distance between stars. Original Karaoke. From project-imas. Jump to: navigation , search. Category : Songs. Navigation menu Personal tools Create account Log in.