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  1. #1
    Join Date
    Oct 2004

    Default The Cantos

    pretty musch everery time i'm dismisssive about something i have to end up haveing a go at it and then when i have a go at it i prettymuch always think, oh, i was wrong, thats really good. so i slagged off the cantos before i read them, becuase they looked hard then i was sitting around one day gently stoned and i picked up some pound and i was liking it and so i got the cantos book big one and i startede reading that and i'm still reading it and its maybe the best book ever in the history of books. not that i youn kinow, understand it or anything, but i do like it though. say something intelligent about the cantosthat will enchance my enjoyment of the poetry, cheers, booby bistoid

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Nov 2004
    leigh on sea


    i remember bigging up early ezra a while back on here.

    love, love, love the later cantos - what thou lovest well remains

    pull down thy vanity/ thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail (LXXXI)

    i find the stuff in the middle of the cantos on usury hard going at times though

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Oct 2004

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  5. #4
    Join Date
    Oct 2004



    So that the vines burst from my fingers

    And the bees weighted with pollen

    Move heavily in the vine-shoots:

    chirr---chirr---chir-rikk---a purring sound,

    And the birds sleepily in the branches.


    With the first pale-clear of the heaven

    And the cities set in their hills,

    And the goddess of the fair knees

    Moving there, with the oak-woods behind her,

    The green slope, with white hounds

    leaping about her;

    And thence down to the creek's mouth, until evening,

    Flat water before me,

    and the trees growing in water,

    Marble trunks out of stillness,

    On past the palazzi,

    in the stillness,

    The light now, not of the sun.


    And the water green clear, and blue clear;

    On, to the great cliffs of amber.

    Between them,

    Cave of Nerea,

    she like a great shell curved,

    And the boat drawn without sound,

    Without odour of ship-work,

    Nor bird-cry, nor any noise of wave moving,

    Nor splash of porpoise, nor any noise of wave moving,

    Within her cave, Nerea,

    she like a great shell curved

    In the suavity of the rock,

    cliff green-gray in the far,

    In the near, the gate-cliffs of amber,

    And the wave

    green clear, and blue clear,

    And the cave salt-white, and glare-purple,

    cool, porphyry smooth,

    the rock sea-worn.

    No gull-cry, no sound of porpoise,

    Sand as of malachite, and no cold there,

    the light not of the sun.

    Zagreus, feeding his panthers,

    the turf clear as on hills under light.

    And under the almond-trees, gods,

    with them, choros nympharum. Gods,

    Hermes and Athene,

    As shaft of compass,

    Between them, trembled---

    To the left is the place of fauns,

    sylva nympharum;

    The low wood, moor-scrub,

    the doe, the young spotted deer,

    leap up through the broom-plants,

    as dry leaf amid yellow.

    And by one cut of the hills,

    the great alley of Memnons.

    Beyond, sea, crests seen over dune

    Night sea churning shingle,

    To the left, the alley of cypress.

    A boat came,

    One man holding her sail,

    Guiding her with oar caught over gunwale, saying:

    " There, in the forest of marble,

    " the stone trees---out of water---

    " the arbours of stone---

    " marble leaf, over leaf,

    " silver, steel over steel,

    " silver beaks rising and crossing,

    " prow set against prow,

    " stone, ply over ply,

    " the gilt beams flare of an evening"

    Borso, Carmagnola, the men of craft, i vitrei,

    Thither, at one time, time after time,

    And the waters richer than glass,

    Bronze gold, the blaze over the silver,

    Dye-pots in the torch-light,

    The flash of wave under prows,

    And the silver beaks rising and crossing.

    Stone trees, white and rose-white in the darkness,

    Cypress there by the towers,

    Drift under hulls in the night.

    "In the gloom the gold

    Gathers the light about it." ...

    Now supine in burrow, half over-arched bramble,

    One eye for the sea, through that peek-hole,

    Gray light, with Athene.

    Zothar and her elephants, the gold loin-cloth,

    The sistrum, shaken, shaken,

    the cohorts of her dancers.

    And Aletha, by bend of the shore,

    with her eyes seaward,

    and in her hands sea-wrack

    Salt-bright with the foam.

    Koré through the bright meadow,

    with green-gray dust in the grass:

    "For this hour, brother of Circe."

    Arm laid over my shoulder,

    Saw the sun for three days, the sun fulvid,

    As a lion lift over sand-plain;

    and that day,

    And for three days, and none after,

    Splendour, as the splendour of Hermes,

    And shipped thence

    to the stone place,

    Pale white, over water,

    known water,

    And the white forest of marble, bent bough over bough,

    The pleached arbour of stone,

    Thither Borso, when they shot the barbed arrow at him,

    And Carmagnola, between the two columns,

    Sigismundo, after that wreck in Dalmatia.

    Sunset like the grasshopper flying.

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  7. #5
    Join Date
    Oct 2004

  8. #6

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