Hyperion (An Epic Poem). John Keats

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ brought a younger under his wing to witness the solemnity, and whom he oppressively patronized, instructing him in the names and qualities of all the magnates present. Now and then, in his zeal to manifest and impart his knowledge, he would forget himself, and stray beyond the prescribed bounds into the ring, to the lashing resentment of its comptroller, Mr William Soames, who, after some hints of a practical nature to ‘keep back’ began laying about him with indiscriminate and unmitigable vivacity, the Peripatetic signifying to his pupil. ‘My eyes! Bill Soames giv’ me sich a licker!’ evidently grateful, and considering himself complimented upon being included in the general dispensation. Keats’ entertainment with and appreciation of this minor scene of low life has often recurred to me. But his concurrent personification of the baiting, with his position, — his legs and arms bent and shortened till he looked like Bruin on his hind legs, dabbing his fore paws hither and thither, as the dogs snapped at him, and now and then acting the gasp of one that had been suddenly caught and hugged — his own capacious mouth adding force to the personation, was a remarkable and as memorable a display.

      Thus stamped by nature, and moving in such a circle as we have described, Keats found among those with whom he lived nothing to check, but rather everything to foster, his hourly growing, still diffident and half awe-stricken, passion for the poetic life. Poetry and the love of poetry were at this period in the air. It was a time when even people of business and people of fashion read: a time of literary excitement, expectancy, discussion, and disputation such as England has not known since. Fortunes, even, had been made or were being made in poetry; by Scott, by Byron, by Moore, whose Irish Melodies were an income to him and who was known to have just received a cheque of £3000 in advance for Lalla Rookh. In such an atmosphere Keats, having enough of his inheritance left after payment of his school and hospital expenses to live on for at least a year or two, soon found himself induced to try his luck and his powers with the rest. The backing of his friends was indeed only too ready and enthusiastic. His brothers, including the business member of the family, the sensible and practical George, were as eager that John should become a famous poet as he was himself. So encouraged, he made up his mind to give up the pursuit of surgery for that of literature, and declared his decision, being now of age, firmly to his guardian; who naturally but in vain opposed it to the best of his power. The consequence was a quarrel, which Mr Abbey afterwards related, in a livelier manner than we should have expected from him, in the same document, now unfortunately gone astray, to which I have already referred as containing his character of the poet’s mother. The die was cast. In the Marlborough Street studio, in the Hampstead cottage, in the City lodgings of the three brothers and the social gatherings of their friends, it was determined that John Keats (or according to his convivial alias ‘Junkets’) should put forth a volume of his poems. Leigh Hunt brought on the scene a firm of publishers supposed to be sympathetic, the brothers Charles and James Ollier, who had already published for Shelley and who readily undertook the issue. The volume was printed, and the last proof-sheets were brought one evening to the author amid a jovial company, with the intimation that if a dedication was to be added the copy must be furnished at once. Keats going to one side quickly produced the sonnet To Leigh Hunt Esqr, with its excellent opening and its weak conclusion: —

      Glory and Loveliness have pass’d away;

       For if we wander out in early morn,

       No wreathed incense do we see upborne

       Into the East to meet the smiling day:

       No crowd of nymphs soft-voiced and young and gay,

       In woven baskets bringing ears of corn,

       Roses and pinks, and violets, to adorn

       The shrine of Flora in her early May.

       But there are left delights as high as these,

       And I shall ever bless my destiny,

       That in a time when under pleasant trees

       Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free,

       A leafy luxury, seeing I could please,

       With these poor offerings, a man like thee.

      With this confession of a longing retrospect towards the beauty of the old pagan world and of gratitude for present friendship, the young poet’s first venture was sent forth, amid the applauding expectations of all his circle, in the first days of March 1817.

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4AAQSkZJRgABAgEASABIAAD/7QAsUGhvdG9zaG9wIDMuMAA4QklNA+0AAAAAABAASAAAAAEA AQBIAAAAAQAB/+IMWElDQ19QUk9GSUxFAAEBAAAMSExpbm8CEAAAbW50clJHQiBYWVogB84AAgAJ AAYAMQAAYWNzcE1TRlQAAAAASUVDIHNSR0IAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPbWAAEAAAAA0y1IUCAgAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARY3BydAAAAVAAAAAz ZGVzYwAAAYQAAABsd3RwdAAAAfAAAAAUYmtwdAAAAgQAAAAUclhZWgAAAhgAAAAUZ1hZWgAAAiwA AAAUYlhZWgAAAkAAAAAUZG1uZAAAAlQAAABwZG1kZAAAAsQAAACIdnVlZAAAA0wAAACGdmlldwAA A9QAAAAkbHVtaQAAA/gAAAAUbWVhcwAABAwAAAAkdGVjaAAABDAAAAAMclRSQwAABDwAAAgMZ1RS QwAABDwAAAgMYlRSQwAABDwAAAgMdGV4dAAAAABDb3B5cmlnaHQgKGMpIDE5OTggSGV3bGV0dC1Q YWNrYXJkIENvbXBhbnkAAGRlc2MAAAAAAAAAEnNSR0IgSUVDNjE5NjYtMi4xAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS c1JHQiBJRUM2MTk2Ni0yLjEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAFhZWiAAAAAAAADzUQABAAAAARbMWFlaIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABYWVogAAAA AAAAb6IAADj1AAADkFhZWiAAAAAAAABimQAAt4UAABjaWFlaIAAAAAAAACSgAAAPhAAAts9kZXNj AAAAAAAAABZJRUMgaHR0cDovL3d3dy5pZWMuY2gAAAAAAAAAAAAAABZJRUMgaHR0cDovL3d3dy5p ZWMuY2gAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZGVzYwAA AAAAAAAuSUVDIDYxOTY2LTIuMSBEZWZhdWx0IFJHQiBjb2xvdXIgc3BhY2UgLSBzUkdCAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAuSUVDIDYxOTY2LTIuMSBEZWZhdWx0IFJHQiBjb2xvdXIgc3BhY2UgLSBzUkdCAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGRlc2MAAAAAAAAALFJlZmVyZW5jZSBWaWV3aW5nIENvbmRpdGlvbiBp biBJRUM2MTk2Ni0yLjEAAAAAAAAAAAAAACxSZWZlcmVuY2UgVmlld2luZyBDb25kaXRpb24gaW4g SUVDNjE5NjYtMi4xAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAB2aWV3AAAAAAATpP4AFF8uABDP FAAD7cwABBMLAANcngAAAAFYWVogAAAAAABMCVYAUAAAAFcf521lYXMAAAAAAAAAAQAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAKPAAAAAnNpZyAAAAAAQ1JUIGN1cnYAAAAAAAAEAAAAAAUACgAPABQAGQAeACMA KAAtADIANwA7AEAARQBKAE8AVABZAF4AYwBoAG0AcgB3AHwAgQCGAIsAkACVAJoAnwCkAKkArgCy ALcAvADBAMYAywDQANUA2wDgAOUA6wDwAPYA+wEBAQcBDQETARkBHwElASsBMgE4AT4BRQFMAVIB WQFgAWcBbgF1AXwBgwGLAZIBmgGhAakBsQG5AcEByQHRAdkB4QHpAfIB+gIDAgwCFAIdAiYCLwI4 AkECSwJUAl0CZwJxAnoChAKOApgCogKsArYCwQLLAtUC4ALrAvUDAAMLAxYDIQMtAzgDQwNPA1oD ZgNyA34DigOWA6IDrgO6A8cD0wPgA+wD+QQGBBMEIAQtBDsESARVBGMEcQR+BIwEmgSoBLYExATT BOEE8AT+BQ0FHAUrBToFSQVYBWcFdwWGBZYFpg

СКАЧАТЬ