Overview[ edit ] A narrative is a telling of some true or fictitious event or connected sequence of events, recounted by a narrator to a narratee although there may be more than one of each. Narratives are to be distinguished from descriptions of qualities, states, or situations, and also from dramatic enactments of events although a dramatic work may also include narrative speeches.
Writing[ edit ] Coleridge, In SeptemberColeridge lived in Nether Stowey in the south west of England and spent much of his time walking through the nearby Quantock Hills with his fellow poet William Wordsworth and Wordsworth's sister Dorothy ;  His route today is memorialised as the " Coleridge Way ".
Some time between 9 and 14 Octoberwhen Coleridge says he had completed the tragedy, he left Stowey for Lynton. On his return, he became sick and rested at Ash Farm, located at Culbone Church and one of the few places to seek shelter on his route. In the summer of the yearthe Author, then in ill health, had retired to a lonely farm house between Porlock and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of Somerset and Devonshire.
In consequence of a slight indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from the effects of which he fell asleep in his chair at the moment that he was reading the following sentence, or words of the same substance, in ' Purchas's Pilgrimes: On awakening 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 Porlockand detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but, alas!
Then all the charm Is broken—all that phantom-world so fair Vanishes, and a thousand circlets spread, And each mis-shape the other. Stay awhile, Poor youth! Yet from the still surviving recollections in his mind, the Author has frequently purposed to finish for himself what had been originally, as it were, given to him.
As a contrast to this vision, I have annexed a fragment of a very different character, describing with equal fidelity the dream of pain and disease. It was northeast of Cambaluor modern-day Beijing.
The book contained a brief description of Xanaduthe summer capital of the Mongol ruler Kublai Khan.
The text about Xanadu in Purchas, His Pilgrimes, which Coleridge admitted he did not remember exactly, was: In Xandu did Cublai Can build a stately Pallace, encompassing sixteen miles of plaine ground with a wall, wherein are fertile Meddowes, pleasant Springs, delightfull streames, and all sorts of beasts of chase and game, and in the middest thereof a sumptuous house of pleasure, which may be moved from place to place.
In about —, he dictated a description of Xanadu which includes these lines: And when you have ridden three days from the city last mentioned Cambaluor modern Beijingbetween north-east and north, you come to a city called Chandu, which was built by the Khan now reigning.
There is at this place a very fine marble Palace, the rooms of which are all gilt and painted with figures of men and beasts and birds, and with a variety of trees and flowers, all executed with such exquisite art that you regard them with delight and astonishment. Round this Palace a wall is built, inclosing a compass of 16 miles, and inside the Park there are fountains and rivers and brooks, and beautiful meadows, with all kinds of wild animals excluding such as are of ferocious naturewhich the Emperor has procured and placed there to supply food for his gerfalcons and hawks, which he keeps there in mew.
He described it this way: Moreover at a spot in the Park where there is a charming wood he has another Palace built of cane, of which I must give you a description. It is gilt all over, and most elaborately finished inside. It is stayed on gilt and lackered columns, on each of which is a dragon all gilt, the tail of which is attached to the column whilst the head supports the architrave, and the claws likewise are stretched out right and left to support the architrave.
The roof, like the rest, is formed of canes, covered with a varnish so strong and excellent that no amount of rain will rot them. These canes are a good 3 palms in girth, and from 10 to 15 paces in length.
They are cut across at each knot, and then the pieces are split so as to form from each two hollow tiles, and with these the house is roofed; only every such tile of cane has to be nailed down to prevent the wind from lifting it.
In short, the whole Palace is built of these canes, which I may mention serve also for a great variety of other useful purposes. The construction of the Palace is so devised that it can be taken down and put up again with great celerity; and it can all be taken to pieces and removed whithersoever the Emperor may command.
When erected, it is braced against mishaps from the wind by more than cords of silk.Hello Margie. I’m a little confused. An interview you did with Mr. Fenn on January 1, , shows the following: “What serious adventurers should remember,” Fenn says, “is to not believe anything that is not in my poem or otherwise in my book.
Losing the War. Man is a bubble, and all the world is a stormJeremy Taylor, Holy Dying () My father owned a gorgeous porcelain tiger about half the size of a house cat. This page is closed to new comments. To continue the discussion please go to the newest HOB page.
This is for a discussion about “the home of Brown” in Forrest’s poem. Over 15, copies downloaded! This is a quick and easy way to learn the basic philosophy and theology of Saint Thomas Aquinas.
The Popes of the last years have endorsed St Thomas Aquinas. Poetic Analysis Essay Taking risks will bestow people new stories and new adventure.
Lives without exhilarating stories seem extremely tedious. eg. “Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone /It’s with O’Leary in the grave.” The poet repeats the most important point over and over.
The line remains lodged in our brains long after we have finished reading (like the chorus of a song).