Una and the lion (Rivière) Requiescat (Rivière) Lake poets (recollections) Recollections of the Lake Poets is a collection of biographical essays written by the English author Thomas De Quincey.
In these essays, originally published in Tait's Edinburgh Magazine between 1834 and 1840, De Quincey provided some of the earliest, best informed, and most candid accounts of the Lake Poets, William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and Robert Southey, and others in their circle. Together, the essays "form one of the most entertaining of Lakeland books. "[1] Candor[edit] De Quincey wrote from direct personal familiarity, having known all three men during the first two decades of the nineteenth century. De Quincey was the first person to address the problem of plagiarism in Coleridge's works, a problem that would be ignored or neglected for a century and a half, until modern scholars addressed it in detail.[3] Responses[edit] Some interested parties, however, responded more calmly. The essays[edit] Editions[edit] There were three twentieth-century editions of the essays. The mask of anarchy (Shelley) Poetry | prints | cine | home Written on the occasion of the massacre carried out by the British Government at Peterloo, Manchester 1819 As I lay asleep in Italy There came a voice from over the Sea, And with great power it forth led me To walk in the visions of Poesy.
I met Murder on the way - He had a mask like Castlereagh - Very smooth he looked, yet grim; Seven blood-hounds followed him: All were fat; and well they might Be in admirable plight, For one by one, and two by two, He tossed the human hearts to chew Which from his wide cloak he drew. Next came Fraud, and he had on, Like Eldon, an ermined gown; His big tears, for he wept well, Turned to mill-stones as they fell. And the little children, who Round his feet played to and fro, Thinking every tear a gem, Had their brains knocked out by them.
Le prélude (Wordsworth) The fall of Robespierre (Southey et Coleridge) Playing with fire (Lindop) '...Here nothing is real and everything is possible, this is the Green Cabaret, Blue Angel, Moulin Rouge, Cabinet of Dr Caligari and we are all on stage, we are all lost in our own and each other's imaginations. The drinks cost only pub prices, entrance is free and nothing is hidden or true or lied about. Believe me, all that goes on in here is pure poetry.' Eavan Boland has praised Grevel Lindop's 'lyric voice that handles images well, that distinguishes - as few poets do - the erotic from the sexual, that moves language in and out of metaphor with skill and grace.' The erotic and the sexual are richly represented in this new collection, whose subjects of celebration range from the lemons in Robert Graves' garden to a blood-drinking Tibetan deity.
At its heart are a group of passionate love poems, and a sequence set in an East London strip club, treated with the imaginative insight and verbal skill that led R.V.