Coleridge and Textual Instability: The Multiple Versions of the Major Poems

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Oxford University Press, 12 мая 1994 г. - Всего страниц: 272
Jack Stillinger establishes and documents the existence of numerous different authoritative versions of Coleridge's best-known poems: sixteen or more of The Eolian Harp, for example, eighteen of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and comparable numbers for This Lime-Tree Bower, Frost at Midnight, Kubla Khan, Christabel, and Dejection: An Ode. Such multiplicity of versions raises interesting theoretical and practical questions about the constitution of the Coleridge canon, the ontological identity of any specific work in the canon, the editorial treatment of Coleridge's works, and the ways in which multiple versions complicate interpretation of the poems as a unified (or, as the case may be, disunified) body of work. Providing much new information about the texts and production of Coleridge's major poems, Stillinger's study offers intriguing new theories about the nature of authorship and the constitution of literary works.

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The Current State of Coleridges Poetic Texts
3
2 The Multiple Versions
26
3 Coleridge as Reviser
100
4 A Practical Theory of Versions
118

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Стр. 185 - The author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines...
Стр. 170 - The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on ; and so did I.
Стр. 185 - On awaking he appeared to himself to have a distinct recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on business from Porlock...
Стр. 181 - I saw a third — I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood.
Стр. 162 - And I had done a hellish thing. And it would work 'em woe: For all averred. I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow.
Стр. 171 - I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky. Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet.
Стр. 187 - But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! A savage place ! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover...
Стр. 162 - It perched for vespers nine ; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white Moon-shine." " God save thee, ancient Mariner ! From the fiends, that plague thee thus ! — Why look'st thou so ? " — " With my cross-bow I shot the ALBATROSS.

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