J. M. Synge and the Irish Dramatic MovementConstable, 1912 - 95 страница |
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Abbey Theatre ancient Antient Concert Rooms Aran Islands artist Aubrey De Vere beautiful Brian century character comedy Conchubor Countess Cathleen Dark Rosaleen Deirdre drama dramatist Dublin emotion English expression eyes faery Fianna Gaelic give Glen heroic legends humour imagination influence interest IRISH DRAMATIC MOVEMENT Irish Literary Theatre Irish poetry Irish Theatre Irishmen J. M. SYNGE jackass strayed Lady Gregory language Lionel Johnson literature live lyric Maire Mangan Martyn Micheal Dara Miss modern Irish mood mysticism Naisi's National Theatre Society Nationalists never Padraic Colum passion patriotism peasant performed Playboy plays of modern poems poet prose queen reality red-rose-bordered reverence Riders romance Saints Samhain Shadowy Waters song Sorrows soul speech spirit stage story superb Synge's plays Tinker's Wedding tinkers tragedy tramps turned utterance verse vivid W. B. Yeats Western World Wicklow written wrote Yeats and A. E. Young Ireland
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Страница 53 - O MY dark Rosaleen, Do not sigh, do not weep! The priests are on the ocean green, They march along the deep. There's wine from the royal Pope Upon the ocean green, And Spanish ale shall give you hope, My dark Rosaleen!
Страница 36 - They're all gone now, and there isn't anything more the sea can do to me. . . . I'll have no call now to be up crying and praying when the wind breaks from the south, and you can hear the surf is in the east, and the surf is in the west, making a great stir with the two noises, and they hitting one on the other.
Страница 54 - Woe and pain, pain and woe, Are my lot, night and noon, To see your bright face clouded so, Like to the mournful moon. But yet will I rear your throne Again in golden sheen ; Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone, My Dark Rosaleen!
Страница 20 - THE drama is made serious — in the French sense of the word — not by the degree in which it is taken up with problems that are serious in themselves, but by the degree in which it gives the nourishment, not very easy to define, on which our imaginations live.
Страница 19 - On the stage one must have reality, and one must have joy; and that is why the intellectual modern drama has failed, and people have grown sick of the false joy of the musical comedy that has been given them in the place of the rich joy found only in what is superb and wild in reality.
Страница 64 - Nor may I less be counted one With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson, Because to him, who ponders well, My rhymes more than their rhyming tell Of things discovered in the deep, Where only body's laid asleep.
Страница 54 - Over dews, over sands, Will I fly for your weal: Your holy, delicate white hands Shall girdle me with steel. At home, in your emerald bowers, From morning's dawn till e'en, You'll pray for me, my flower of flowers, My Dark Rosaleen!
Страница 54 - Oh, I could kneel all night in prayer, To heal your many ills! And one beamy smile from you Would float like light between My toils and me, my own, my true, My Dark Rosaleen! My fond Rosaleen!
Страница 24 - In Ireland, for a few years more, we have a popular imagination that is fiery and magnificent, and tender; so that those of us who wish to write start with a chance that is not given to writers in places where the springtime of the local life has been forgotten, and the harvest is a memory only, and the straw has been turned into bricks.
Страница 36 - In the big world the old people do be leaving things after them for their sons and children, but in this place it is the young men do be leaving things behind for them that do be old.