Midas by Mary Shelley – Delphi Classics (Illustrated)(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者:Mary Shelley

出版社:Delphi Classics (Parts Edition)


Midas by Mary Shelley - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)

Midas by Mary Shelley - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)试读:

 The Complete Works ofMARY SHELLEYVOLUME 11 OF 18MidasParts EditionBy Delphi Classics, 2013Version 1COPYRIGHT‘Midas’(in 18 parts)Mary Shelley: Parts Edition First published in the United Kingdom in 2017 by Delphi Classics.© Delphi Classics, 2017.All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.ISBN: 978 1 78877 393 5Delphi Classicsis an imprint ofDelphi Publishing LtdHastings, East SussexUnited KingdomContact: sales@delphiclassics.comwww.delphiclassics.comMary Shelley: Parts EditionThis eBook is Part 11 of the Delphi Classics edition of Mary Shelley in 18 Parts. It features the unabridged text of Midas from the bestselling edition of the author’s Complete Works. Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. Our Parts Editions feature original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of Mary Shelley, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.Visit here to buy the entire Parts Edition of Mary Shelley or the Complete Works of Mary Shelley in a single eBook.Learn more about our Parts Edition, with free downloads, via this link or browse our most popular Parts here.        MARY SHELLEYIN 18 VOLUMESParts Edition ContentsThe Novels1, Frankenstein2, Frankenstein3, Mathilda4, Valperga5, The Last Man6, The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck7, Lodore8, FalknerThe Short Stories9, The Complete Short Stories The Children’s Fiction10, Proserpine11, MidasThe Poems12, The Complete PoemsThe Travel Writing13, History of a Six Weeks’ Tour Through a Part of France, Switzerland, Germany, and Holland14, Rambles in Germany and Italy, in 1840, 1842, and 1843The Non-Fiction15, Notes to the Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe ShelleyAn Adaptation16, Presumption; Or, the Fate of Frankenstein by Richard Brinsley PeakeThe Biographies17, The Life and Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley by Florence A. Thomas Marshall18, Mrs. Shelley by Lucy M. Rossettiwww.delphiclassics.com MidasMidas is often viewed as the companion drama to Proserpine, with Shelley writing the tale and Percy Shelley contributing two lyric poems once again. Midas was written in 1820 but unlike Proserpine Shelley was entirely unsuccessful in managing to get the play published in any children’s magazines during the 1830’s. The drama was never published in her lifetime and it was not until Koszul’s 1922 edition that the play saw the light of day. Ultimately Koszul was more interested in Percy Shelley’s poems that Mary Shelley’s drama, an interest which was continued by many thscholars throughout much of the 20 century until feminists began to focus on more than Frankenstein when considering Shelley’s literary output. The issue of gender is raised by the very nature of the drama’s composition; lyric poetry was the domain of male artists while the everyday dramas were associated with female writers. The husband and wife duo divide the labour along these traditional lines, but Mary Shelley simultaneously offers a critique of certain masculine drives and values.Midas is a contrast to Proserpine as it concentrates on a male dominated world of egoism and competition and not the communal, sharing solidarity between women.  The drama begins with a contest between Apollo and Pan over who is the best musician and Tmolus is appointed as the judge. Apollo is granted victory, but this is contested by Pan, who asks that King Midas adjudicate instead, leading Apollo to seek revenge upon the mortal King. Apollo is associated with the masculine qualities of science ‘all medicine is mine’, reason ‘wisdom...and power divine’ and metaphysics: ‘I am the eye with which the Universe/Beholds itself and knows it is divine’; in contrast Pan possesses feminine attributes such as an affiliation with nature ‘From the forests and highlands/We come, we come’ and affection. Midas’s one wish serves to demonstrate the noxious consequences of a desire for abundant wealth and riches which Shelley considered to be particularly masculine attributes as they function as a symbol of acquisition and power. Shelley was interested in retelling these Greek myths and challenging the often male dominated and not infrequent misogynist slants of the narratives. This glorification of the masculine and demonization of the feminine was especially prominent in interpretations of the myths by authors such as Chaucer who cast women in an unfavourable light.The first edition’s title pageCONTENTSDRAMATIS PERSONAEACT I.ACT II ‘The Contest between Apollo and Pan’ by Hendrick de Clerck, 1620DRAMATIS PERSONAEImmortals.Apollo.Bacchus.Pan.Silenus.Tmolus, God of a Hill.Fauns, &c.Mortals.Midas, King of Phrygia.Zopyrion, his Prime-Minister.Asphalion, Lacon, Courtiers.Courtiers, Attendants, Priests, &c.Scene, Phrygia.ACT I.Scene; a rural spot; on one side, a bare Hill, on the other an Ilex wood; a stream with reeds on its banks.The Curtain rises and discovers Tmolus seated on a throne of turf, on his right hand Apollo with his lyre, attended by the Muses; on the left, Pan, fauns, &c.Enter Midas and Zopyrion.Midas. The Hours have oped the palace of the dawnAnd through the Eastern gates of Heaven, AuroraComes charioted on light, her wind-swift steeds,Winged with roseate clouds, strain up the steep.She loosely holds the reins, her golden hair,Its strings outspread by the sweet morning breeze[,]Blinds the pale stars. Our rural tasks begin;The young lambs bleat pent up within the fold,The herds low in their stalls, & the blithe cockHalloos most loudly to his distant mates.But who are these we see? these are not men,Divine of form & sple[n]didly arrayed,They sit in solemn conclave. Is that Pan,Our Country God, surrounded by his Fauns?And who is he whose crown of gold & harpAre attributes of high Apollo?Zopyr. BestYour majesty retire; we may offend.Midas. Aye, and at the base thought the coward bloodDeserts your trembling lips; but follow me.Oh Gods! for such your bearing is, & sureNo mortal ever yet possessed the goldThat glitters on your silken robes; may one,Who, though a king, can boast of no descentMore noble than Deucalion’s stone-formed men[,]May I demand the cause for which you deignTo print upon this worthless Phrygian earthThe vestige of your gold-inwoven sandals,Or why that old white-headed man sits thereUpon that grassy throne, & looks as heWere stationed umpire to some weighty cause[?]Tmolus. God Pan with his blithe pipe which the Fauns loveHas challenged Phoebus of the golden lyre[,]Saying his Syrinx can give sweeter notesThan the stringed instrument Apollo boasts.I judge between the parties. Welcome, King,I am old Tmolus, God of that bare Hill,You may remain and hear th’ Immortals sing.Mid. [aside] My judgement is made up before I hear;Pan is my guardian God, old-horned Pan,The Phrygian’s God who watches o’er our flocks;No harmony can equal his blithe pipe.(Shelley.)Apollo (sings). The sleepless Hours who watch me as I lie,    Curtained with star-enwoven tapestries,  From the broad moonlight of the sky,    Fanning the busy dreams from my dim eyes  Waken me when their Mother, the grey Dawn,  Tells them that dreams & that the moon is gone. Then I arise, and climbing Heaven’s blue dome,    I walk over the mountains & the waves,  Leaving my robe upon the Ocean foam, —    My footsteps pave the clouds with fire; the caves  Are filled with my bright presence & the air  Leaves the green Earth to my embraces bare. The sunbeams are my shafts with which I kill    Deceit, that loves the night & fears the day;  All men who do, or even imagine ill    Fly me, and from the glory of my ray  Good minds and open actions take new might  Until diminished by the reign of night. I feed the clouds, the rainbows & the flowers    With their etherial colours; the moon’s globe  And the pure stars in their eternal bowers    Are cinctured with my power as with a robe;  Whatever lamps on Earth or Heaven may shine  Are portions of one power, which is mine. I stand at noon upon the peak of heaven,    Then with unwilling steps I wander down  Into the clouds of the Atlantic even —    For grief that I depart they weep & frown [;]  What look is more delightful than the smile  With which I soothe them from the western isle [?] I am the eye with which the Universe    Beholds itself & knows it is divine.  All harmony of instrument or verse,    All prophecy, all medecine is mine;  All light of art or nature; — to my song  Victory and praise, in its own right, belong.(Shelley.)Pan (sings). From the forests and highlands    We come, we come;  From the river-girt islands    W[h]ere loud waves are dumb,      Listening my sweet pipings; The wind in the reeds & the rushes,    The bees on the bells of thyme,  The birds on the myrtle bushes[,]    The cicale above in the lime[,]  And the lizards below in the grass,  Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was       Listening my sweet pipings. Liquid Peneus was flowing,    And all dark Tempe lay  In Pelion’s shadow, outgrowing    The light of the dying day      Speeded by my sweet pipings.  The Sileni, & Sylvans, & Fauns    And the nymphs of the woods & the waves  To the edge of the moist river-lawns,    And the brink of the dewy caves[,]  And all that did then attend & follow  Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo!      With envy of my sweet pipings. I sang of the dancing stars,    I sang of the daedal Earth —  And of heaven — & the giant wars —      And Love, & death, [&] birth,     And then I changed my pipings,  Singing how down the vale of Menalus,    I pursued a maiden & clasped a reed,  Gods and men, we are all deluded thus!    It breaks in our bosom & then we bleed!  All wept, as I think both ye now would  If envy or age had not frozen your blood,      At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.Tmol. Phoebus, the palm is thine. The Fauns may danceTo the blithe tune of ever merry Pan;But wisdom, beauty, & the power divineOf highest poesy lives within thy strain.Named by the Gods the King of melody,Receive from my weak hands a second crown.Pan. Old Grey-beard, you say false! you think by thisTo win Apollo with his sultry beamsTo thaw your snowy head, & to renewThe worn out soil of your bare, ugly hill.I do appeal to Phrygian Midas here;Let him decide, he is no partial judge.Mid. Immortal Pan, to my poor, mortal earsYour sprightly song in melody outweighsHis drowsy tune; he put me fast asleep,As my prime minister, Zopyrion, knows;But your gay notes awoke me, & to you,If I were Tmolus, would I give the prize.Apol. And who art thou who dar’st among the GodsMingle thy mortal voice? Insensate fool!Does not the doom of Marsyas fill with dreadThy impious soul? or would’st thou also beAnother victim to my justest wrath?But fear no more; — thy punishment shall beBut as a symbol of thy blunted sense.Have asses’ ears! and thus to the whole worldWear thou the marks of what thou art,Let Pan himself blush at such a judge.(Exeunt all except Midas & Zopyrion.)Mid. What said he? is it true, Zopyrion?Yet if it be; you must not look on me,But shut your eyes, nor dare behold my shame.Ah! here they are! two long, smooth asses[‘] ears!They stick upright! Ah, I am sick with shame!Zopyr. I cannot tell your Majesty my grief,Or how my soul’s oppressed with the sad changeThat has, alas! befallen your royal ears.Mid. A truce to your fine speeches now, Zopyrion;To you it appertains to find some modeOf hiding my sad chance, if not you die.Zopyr. Great King, alas! my thoughts are dull & slow[;]Pardon my folly, might they not be cut,Rounded off handsomely, like human ears [?]Mid. (feeling his ears)They’re long & thick; I fear ’twould give me pain;And then if vengeful Phoebus should commandAnother pair to grow — that will not do.Zopyr. You wear a little crown of carved gold,Which just appears to tell you are a king;If that were large and had a cowl of silk,Studded with gems, which none would dare gainsay,Then might you —Mid. Now you have it! friend,I will reward you with some princely gift.But, hark! Zopyrion, not a word of this;If to a single soul you tell my shameYou die. I’ll to the palace the back wayAnd manufacture my new diadem,The which all other kings shall imitateAs if they also had my asses[‘] ears.(Exit.)Zopyr. (watching Midas off)He cannot hear me now, and I may laugh!I should have burst had he staid longer here.Two long, smooth asses’ ears that stick upright;Oh, that Apollo had but made him bray!I’ll to the palace; there I’ll laugh my fillWith — hold! What were the last words that Midas said?I may not speak — not to my friends discloseThe strangest tale? ha! ha! and when I laughI must not tell the cause? none know the truth?None know King Midas has — but who comes here?It is Asphalion: he knows not this change;I must look grave & sad; for now a smileIf Midas knows it may prove capital.Yet when I think of those — oh! I shall die,In either way, by silence or by speech.Enter Asphalion.Asphal. Know you, Zopyrion? —Zopyr. What[!] you know it too?Then I may laugh; — oh, what relief is this!How does he look, the courtiers gathering round?Does he hang down his head, & his ears too?Oh, I shall die! (laughs.)Asph. He is a queer old dog,Yet not so laughable. ’Tis true, he’s drunk,And sings and reels under the broad, green leaves,And hanging clusters of his crown of grapes. —Zopyr. A crown of grapes! but can that hide his ears[?]Asph. His ears! — Oh, no! they stick upright between.When Midas saw him —Zopyr. Whom then do you mean?Did you not say —Asph. I spoke of old Silenus;Who having missed his way in these wild woods,And lost his tipsey company — was foundSucking the juicy clusters of the vinesThat sprung where’er he trod: — and reeling onSome shepherds found him in yon ilex wood.They brought him to the king, who honouring himFor Bacchus’ sake, has gladly welcomed him,And will conduct him with solemnityTo the disconsolate Fauns from whom he’s strayed.But have you seen the new-fashioned diademThat Midas wears? —Zopyr. Ha! he has got it on! —Know you the secret cause why with such careHe hides his royal head? you have not seen —Asph. Seen what?Zopyr. Ah! then, no matter: — (turns away agitated.)I dare not sneak or stay[;]If I remain I shall discover all.Asp. I see the king has trusted to your care





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