Hey everybody! Fun full moon, right? I felt this one, turning me into a monster, well Ms. Cranky Pants anyways. This 8 week condensed British Literature class is, and isn’t to my liking. I did manifest this situation, so never mind, I won’t whine. I just really love this era of literature, and an online course doesn’t have the same impact, or benefit that classroom discussion does. With that said, I had to just blow by “The Satanic Poets,” Blake, Shelley, Byron. I spent about eight hours, not nearly the level I want to go. I had no idea they were classified that way. omg my mom would take that so literally. lol In all my reading I did not get a clear answer, was it Lord Byron’s hero, that merited the name, or did it have to do with Blake, and Milton’s, “Paradise Lost”? I do know they questioned, and that’s awesome, but that is a harsh moniker. Don’t you think? Dang that crazy Lord Byron is still enigmatic. True embodiment of “The Trickster,” his own Byronic Hero. A list of mischievous characters and actors faces come to mind. The type of character desired by both men, and women, the bad boy, the rascal, the scoundrel. The sly grin from Gary Cooper before he jumps on his horse and rides away, “Frankly I don’t give a damn, my dear.” lol or whatever Rhett Butler says to Scarlet O’Hara. My imagination runs absolutely wild when I read about these guys. An exciting time in thinking with the German Philosophers, like Immanuel Kant, and there was the French Revolution. So much good literature packed in here, but honestly I am more intrigued with the writers. I do love this poem by Lord Byron.
She Walks in Beauty
Lord George Gordon Byron
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!