/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.10164616]

Who's your favorite Romantic, /lit/? I like Coleridge the best.

[Anonymous No.10164622]

Keats for me

[Anonymous No.10164638]

Blake hands down
>>10164622
t.faaaaag

[Anonymous No.10165005]

Novalis

[Anonymous No.10165132]

Kleist

[Anonymous No.10165299]

>>10165005
>>10165132

Patrizier-Geschmack

[Anonymous No.10165301]

Leopardi

[Anonymous No.10165312]

Machiavelli

[Anonymous No.10165379]

>>10164616
Coleridge. Picking up an old 3 vol copy of The Friend (entirely through trade) this wkend. Late 19th c, great covers, great condition. Sheerly for poetry, however, Shelley's my favorite, but truly I like most all of them from Blake to the Lambs.

[Anonymous No.10165443]

>>10164616
Stendahl, but Coleridge is fun. Lord Macaulay's Horatius is a guilty pleasure though.

[Anonymous No.10165569]

Shelley

[Anonymous No.10165630]

>>10165443
XLII

But hark! the cry is Astur:
And lo! the ranks divide;
And the great Lord of Luna
Comes with his stately stride.
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the four-fold shield,
And in his hand he shakes the brand
Which none but he can wield.

XLIII

He smiled on those bold Romans
A smile serene and high;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, "The she-wolf's litter
Stand savagely at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way?"

XLIV

Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the height,
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow.
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow.

XLV

He reeled, and on Herminius
He leaned one breathing-space;
Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds,
Sprang right at Astur's face.
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet
So fierce a thrust he sped,
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan's head.

XLVI

And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus
A thunder smitten oak:
Far o'er the crashing forest
The giant arms lie spread;
And the pale augurs, muttering low,
Gaze on the blasted head.

XLVII

On Astur's throat Horatius
Right firmly pressed his heel,
And thrice and four times tugged amain,
Ere he wrenched out the steel.
"And see," he cried, "the welcome,
Fair guests, that waits you here!
What noble Lucomo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer?"

[Anonymous No.10165642]

none

[Anonymous No.10165656]

>>10164616
Byron, obviously. Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage is great.

[Anonymous No.10165766]

>ctrl+f "Wordsworth"
>0 results

—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love.

[Anonymous No.10165787]

>>10165766
The Shepherd, if he loved himself, must needs
Have loved his Helpmate; but to Michael’s heart
This son of his old age was yet more dear—
Less from instinctive tenderness, the same
Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all—
Than that a child, more than all other gifts
That earth can offer to declining man,
Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts,
And stirrings of inquietude, when they
By tendency of nature needs must fail.

[Anonymous No.10166018]

>>10164616
me nigga

[Anonymous No.10166037]

Goethe > Pushkin > Shelley > Hugo > Chateaubriand > Wordsworth > Heine > Blake > Hölderlin > Blake > Coleridge > Keats > Byron >>>>>>>>>>>> Lermontov

[Anonymous No.10166127]

>>10166037
I was about to put Lermontov>x until I saw your last entry.

[Anonymous No.10166147]

>>10164616
Definitely Blake