The Development of the Feeling for Nature in the Middle Ages and Modern TimesBiese, Alfred
History
The Development of the Feeling for Nature in the Middle Ages and Modern Times
Biese, Alfred
Nature; Nature in literature
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power and share
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable!...
0 lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee, tameless, and swift, and proud.
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is;
What if my leaves are falling like its own?
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit. Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Like withered leaves, to quicken a new birth;
And by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
His poems are full of this power of inspiring all the elements with
life, breathing his own feeling into them, and divining love and
sympathy in them; for instance:
The fountains mingle with the river,
And the river with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion....
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another...
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea.
and:
I love all thou lovest,
Spirit of Delight;
The fresh earth in new leaves dressed,
And the starry night,
Autumn evening and the morn
When the golden mists are born.
I love snow and all the forms
Of the radiant frost;
I love waves and winds and storms--
Everything almost
Which is Nature's, and may be
Untainted by man's misery.
To Goethe, Byron, and Shelley, this pantheism, universal love,
sympathy with Nature in all her forms, was the base of feeling; but
both of England's greatest lyrists, dying young, failed to attain
perfect harmony of thought and feeling. There always remained a
bitter ingredient in their poetry.
Let us now turn to France.
LAMARTINE AND VICTOR HUGO
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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