A refrain is the line or lines that are repeated in music or in verse; the "chorus" of a song. Poetic fixed forms that feature refrains include the villanelle, the virelay, and the sestina.
The use of refrains is particularly associated with where the verse-chorus-verse song structure typically places a refrain in almost every song. The refrain or chorus often sharply contrasts the verse melodically, rhythmically, and harmonically, and assumes a higher level of dynamics and activity, often with added instrumentation.
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."
A room in Faustus’ House.
Enter WAGNER
Enter WAGNER
| Wag. I think my master shortly means to die, | |
| For he hath given to me all his goods; | |
| And yet, methinks, if that death were so near, | |
| He would not banquet and carouse and swill | |
| Amongst the students, as even now he doth, | |
| Who are at supper with such belly-cheer | |
| As Wagner ne’er beheld in all his life. | |
| See where they come! Belike the feast is ended. | |
Enter FAUSTUS, with two or three SCHOLARS [and MEPHISTOPHILIS]
| |
| 1st Schol. Master Doctor Faustus, since our conference about fair ladies, which was the beautifullest in all the world, we have determined with ourselves that Helen of Greece was the admirablest lady that ever lived: therefore, Master Doctor, if you will do us that favour, as to let us see that peerless dame of Greece, whom all the world admires for majesty, we should think ourselves much beholding unto you. | |
| Faust. Gentlemen, | |
| For that I know your friendship is unfeigned, | |
| And Faustus’ custom is not to deny | |
| The just requests of those that wish him well, | |
| You shall behold that peerless dame of Greece, | |
| No otherways for pomp and majesty | |
| Than when Sir Paris cross’d the seas with her, | |
| And brought the spoils to rich Dardania. | |
| Be silent, then, for danger is in words. Music sounds, and HELEN passeth over the stage. | |
| 2nd Schol. Too simple is my wit to tell her praise, | |
| Whom all the world admires for majesty. | |
| 3rd Schol. No marvel though the angry Greeks pursued | |
| With ten years’ war the rape of such a queen, | |
| Whose heavenly beauty passeth all compare. | |
| 1st Schol. Since we have seen the pride of Nature’s works, | |
| And only paragon of excellence, | |
| Let us depart; and for this glorious deed | |
| Happy and blest be Faustus evermore. | |
| Faustus. Gentlemen, farewell—the same I wish to you. Exeunt SCHOLARS [and WAGNER]. | |
Enter an OLD MAN
| |
| Old Man. Ah, Doctor Faustus, that I might prevail | |
| To guide thy steps unto the way of life, | |
| By which sweet path thou may’st attain the goal | |
| That shall conduct thee to celestial rest! | |
| Break heart, drop blood, and mingle it with tears, | |
| Tears falling from repentant heaviness | |
| Of thy most vile and loathsome filthiness, | |
| The stench whereof corrupts the inward soul | |
| With such flagitious crimes of heinous sins | |
| As no commiseration may expel, | |
| But mercy, Faustus, of thy Saviour sweet, | |
| Whose blood alone must wash away thy guilt. | |
| Faust. Where art thou, Faustus? Wretch, what hast thou done? | |
| Damn’d art thou, Faustus, damn’d; despair and die! | |
| Hell calls for right, and with a roaring voice | |
| Says “Faustus! come! thine hour is [almost] come!” | |
| And Faustus [now] will come to do the right. MEPHISTOPHILIS gives him a dagger. | |
| Old Man. Ah stay, good Faustus, stay thy desperate steps! | |
| I see an angel hovers o’er thy head, | |
| And, with a vial full of precious grace, | |
| Offers to pour the same into thy soul: | |
| Then call for mercy, and avoid despair. | |
| Faust. Ah, my sweet friend, I feel | |
| Thy words do comfort my distressed soul. | |
| Leave me a while to ponder on my sins. | |
| Old Man. I go, sweet Faustus, but with heavy cheer, | |
| Fearing the ruin of thy hopeless soul. [Exit.] | |
| Faust. Accursed Faustus, where is mercy now? | |
| I do repent; and yet I do despair; | |
| Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast: | |
| What shall I do to shun the snares of death? | |
| Meph. Thou traitor, Faustus, I arrest thy soul | |
| For disobedience to my sovereign lord; | |
| Revolt, or I’ll in piecemeal tear thy flesh. | |
| Faust. Sweet Mephistophilis, entreat thy lord | |
| To pardon my unjust presumption. | |
| And with my blood again I will confirm | |
| My former vow I made to Lucifer. | |
| Meph. Do it then quickly, with unfeigned heart, | |
| Lest greater danger do attend thy drift. [FAUSTUS stabs his arm and writes on a paper with his blood.] | |
| Faust. Torment, sweet friend, that base and crooked age, 1 | |
| That durst dissuade me from my Lucifer, | |
| With greatest torments that our hell affords. | |
| Meph. His faith is great, I cannot touch his soul; | |
| But what I may afflict his body with | |
| I will attempt, which is but little worth. | |
| Faust. One thing, good servant, let me crave of thee, | |
| To glut the longing of my heart’s desire,— | |
| That I might have unto my paramour | |
| That heavenly Helen, Which I saw of late, | |
| Whose sweet embracings may extinguish clean | |
| These thoughts that do dissuade me from my vow, | |
| And keep mine oath I made to Lucifer. | |
| Meph. Faustus, this or what else thou shalt desire | |
| Shall be perform’d in twinkling of an eye. | |
Re-enter HELEN
| |
| Faust. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships | |
| And burnt the topless 2 towers of Ilium? | |
| Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. [Kisses her.] | |
| Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies!— | |
| Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. | |
| Here will I dwell, for Heaven is in these lips, | |
| And all is dross that is not Helena. Enter OLD MAN. | |
| I will be Paris, and for love of thee | |
| Instead of Troy, shall Wittenberg be sack’d; | |
| And I will combat with weak Menelaus, | |
| And wear thy colours on my plumed crest; | |
| Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel, | |
| And then return to Helen for a kiss. | |
| Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air | |
| Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars; | |
| Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter | |
| When he appear’d to hapless Semele: | |
| More lovely than the monarch of the sky | |
| In wanton Arethusa’s azured arms: | |
| And none but thou shalt be my paramour. Exeunt. | |
| Old Man. Accursed Faustus, miserable man, | |
| That from thy soul exclud’st the grace of Heaven, | |
| And fly’st the throne of his tribunal seat! | |
Enter DEVILS
| |
| Satan begins to sift me with his pride: | |
| As in this furnace God shall try my faith, | |
| My faith, vile hell, shall triumph over thee. | |
| Ambitious fiends! see how the heavens smiles | |
| At your repulse, and laughs your state to scorn! |
The Book of Revelation, often called the Revelation to John, the Apocalypse of John, The Revelation, or simply Revelation or Apocalypse, is a book of the New Testament that occupies a central place in Christian eschatology. Its title is derived from the first word of the text, written in Koine Greek: apokalypsis, meaning "unveiling" or "revelation".The Book of Revelation is the only apocalyptic document in the New Testament canon .
Labours of Hercules
The twelve labours of Heracles or Hercules are a series of episodes concerning a penance carried out by Heracles, the greatest of the Greek heroes, whose name was later Romanised as Hercules. They were accomplished over 12 years at the service of King Eurystheus. The episodes were later connected by a continuous narrative. The establishment of a fixed cycle of twelve labours was attributed by the Greeks to an epic poem, now lost, written by Peisander, dated about 600 BC. After Hercules killed his wife and children, he went to the oracle at Delphi. He prayed to the god Apollo for guidance. Hercules was told to serve the king of Mycenae, Eurystheus, for 12 years. During these 12 years, Hercules is sent to perform twelve difficult feats, called labours.
The Renaissance was a period in European history, from the 14th to the 17th century, regarded as the cultural bridge between the Middle Ages and modern history. It started as a cultural movement in Italy in the Late Medieval period and later spread to the rest of Europe, marking the beginning of the Early Modern Age.
"To Helen" is the first of two poems to carry that name written by Edgar Allan Poe. The 15-line poem was written in honor of Jane Stanard, the mother of a childhood friend. It was first published in 1831 collection Poems of Edgar A. Poe. It was then reprinted in 1836 in the Southern Literary Messenger.
A hypodermic needle, one of a category of medical tools which enter the skin, called sharps, is a very thin, hollow tube with a sharp tip which contains a small opening at the pointed end. It is commonly used with a syringe, a hand-operated device with a plunger, to inject substances into the body (e.g., saline solution, solutions containing various drugs or liquid medicines) or extract fluids from the body (e.g., blood). They are used to take liquid samples from the body, for example taking blood from a vein in venipuncture. Large bore hypodermic intervention is especially useful in catastrophic blood loss or treating shock.
In Greek mythology, Perseus, the legendary founder of Mycenae and of the Perseid dynasty of Danaans, was, alongside Cadmus and Bellerophon, the greatest Greek hero and slayer of monsters before the days of Heracles Perseus beheaded the GorgonMedusa and saved Andromeda from the sea monster Cetus. Perseus was the son of the mortal Danaë and the god Zeus. He was also the half-brother and great grandfather of Heracles.
Tender Is the Night is a novel by American writer F. Scott Fitzgerald. It was his fourth and final completed novel, and was first published in Scribner's Magazine between January and April 1934 in four issues. The title is taken from the poem "Ode to a Nightingale" by John Keats.
Leda and the Swan
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
SAID TO THE PSALMIST
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
"Paul Revere's Ride" (1860) is a poem by American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that commemorates the actions of American patriot Paul Revere on April 18, 1775, although with significant inaccuracies. It was first published in the January 1861 issue of The Atlantic Monthly. It was later retitled "The Landlord's Tale" in the collection Tales of a Wayside Inn.
沒有留言:
張貼留言