Kubla Khan

His eyes could make pictures when they are shut, and could carry him, momentarily, as on some magic carpet, to a dreamland beyond the limitations of mortal experience.

The same exquisite and meticulous perception which enabled Coleridge to realize and remember the double sound of rain, the quiet sounds from hidden rills among the heather, the slanting shower of blossoms on the faint gale of departing May, revealed to him how In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; and here were forests ancient as the hills, enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

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! Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean; And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! Such, in fact, was the dual capacity of Coleridge's mind, such its ability to commingle the actual and the imaginary, that whilst he could at one moment paint the gentle English landscape in which he dwelt: Lo! was our pretty cot; Our tallest rose Peep'd at the chamber window, we could hear At silent noon and eve and early morn The sea's faint murmur; in the open air Our myrtles blossom'd, and across the porch Thick jasmines twined.

Yeah.

Do you know my favorite poem? Do you know my favorite poem? Poem? Kubla Khan.

It's my favorite poem

Ah.

His eyes could make pictures when they are shut and could carry him momentarily, as on some magic carpet, to a dreamland beyond the limitations of mortal experience.

The same exquisite and meticulous perception which enabled Coleridge to realize and remember the double sound of rain, the quiet sounds from hidden rills among the heather, the slanting shower of blossoms on the faint gale of departing May revealed to him how in Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground with walls and towers were girdled round.

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree.

Yeah.

And, yes, I, I, I, I have a theory that Byzantium is where Yeats wanted to out, uh, Kubla Khan, Coleridge.

That's a, that's an interesting theory.

I think he was directly, I think he was directly competing with Coleridge's, in his Kubla Khan, and say, "I'm going to out-Kubla Khan you." And so what we have here is a real competition, I think.

Mm.

The, uh...

I think it was inspired by Kubla Khan, but it is more than inspired by, it is a, a challenge.

Yeah.

Oh, he hated it.

You know the story of Samuel Taylor Coleridge claiming he woke from an opium dream and just effortlessly wrote down Kubla Khan?

Yeah, Poe thought that was total nonsense.

He claimed that poets who talk about ecstatic intuition are just too vain to admit how much erasing, outlining, and agonizing trial and error actually goes into writing.

Towards the end of that year, he turned to what are now called his mystery poems, and are those for which he is most celebrated.

Kubla Khan, Christabel, the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, all of which were begun or completed within eighteen months of Hartley's birth.

This was a moment of golden invention, and Coleridge knew that something had changed.

Years later, in his rambling autobiography, Biographia Literaria, 1817, he recalled the transformation.

Next day to the amazement of her mistress she could play it perfectly.

Schofield says, Coleridge is said to have dreamed Kubla Khan after dinner during a nap, and wrote it down line by line when he awoke.

Hudson mentions the same occurrence, giving it, however, a slightly different explanation, saying.

Many of the dreams of Coleridge furnish striking examples of the dominance of the subjective in poetry.

His readers will readily recall the celebrated fragment entitled Kubla Khan, or A Vision in a Dream, beginning as follows.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan, a stately pleasure-domed decree, where Alf, the sacred river ran, through caverns measureless to man, down to a sunless sea.

It is unfortunately true that the subjective condition in his case was brought about by artificial means.

And it is expressly stated in a prefatory note to Kublai Khan that this fragment was written under the influence of an anodyne.

It has all sorts of coves and inlets, and there's one that juts in behind the Tracy house.

It's so deep and black, and so surrounded by trees, that it's called the Sunless Sea." "Why, that's from Coleridge's Kubla Khan, too." "Yes, these are the lines.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure dome decree, where Alph, the sacred river, ran through caverns measureless to man down to a sunless sea.

You know it, of course, but that will refresh your memory.

Well, old Tracy...

His eyes could "make pictures when they are shut," and could carry him, momentarily, as on some magic carpet, to a dreamland beyond the limitations of mortal experience.

The same exquisite and meticulous perception which enabled Coleridge to realize and remember the double sound of rain, the quiet sounds from hidden rills among the heather, the slanting shower of blossoms on the faint gale of departing May, revealed to him how "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree And here were forests ancient as the hills Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

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.