for Russian children

1. The English Poetry:
Selected pages

2. The Main Periods of English History and Literature
• Old English and Medieval Literature
Beowulf (Old English, also called Anglo-Saxon)
The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (Middle English)
• The Renaissance (Shakespeare, Raleigh, Donne, Lovelace, Milton)
• The Restoration and 18th Century (Gay, Pope, Burns)
• Romanticism and 19th Century (Blake, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Scott, Landor,
Southey, Shelly, Keats, Byron, Tennyson, Emily Bronte, Stevenson)
• The 20th Century (Yeats, Douglas, Bentley, Chesterton, Mansfield, Lawrence,
Aldington)

3. Legend about Beowulf - the greatest warrior of the past
‘Beowulf’ is the longest surviving poem in Old
English written in the 10th century, but composed at
least two centuries earlier. The legend tells about
events which take place in the Kingdom of Denmark
during the reign of King Hrotgar. He ordered to build
a castle for his warriors where they may sleep and
take their meals. He named the castle ‘Heorot’, which
means ‘Hall of the Hart’. But the noble warriors of
King Hrotgar do not feel safe within the castle walls
because of Grendel, an evil spirit of the forest. He
comes at night and kills the man, then devours them.
A brave warrior Beowulf (bee, wulf – пчелиный
волк, т.е. медведь) and his people from the land of
Geats come to fight with Grendel…

4. From the stretching moors, from the misty hollows,
Grendel came creeping, accursed of God,
A murderous ravager minded to snare
Spoil of heroes in high-built hall.
Under clouded heavens he held his way
Till there rose before him the high-roofed house,
Wine-hall of warriors gleaming with gold…
Storming the building he burst the portal,
Though fastened of iron, with fiendish strength;
Forced open the entrance in savage fury And Beowulf gained the glory of battle.
And rushed in rage o’er the shining floor… Grendel, fated, fled to the fens,
The demon delayed not, but quickly clutched To his joyless dwelling, sick unto death.
A sleeping thane in his swift assault, He knew in his heart that his hours were numbered…
Tore him to pieces, bit through the bones,
Gulped the blood, and gobbled the flesh…
Beowulf sprang to his feet, clutched Grendel fast,
Though fingers were cracking, the fiend pulling free.
The earl pressed after; the monster was minded
To win his freedom and flee to the fens.
He knew that his fingers were fast in the grip
Of a savage foe. Sorry the venture,
The raid the ravager made on the hall…
The walls resounded, the fight was fierce…

5. Geoffrey Chaucer (1343 -1400),
known as the Father of English
literature, is widely considered the
greatest English poet of the Middle
Ages and was the first poet to have
been buried in Poet's Corner of
Westminster Abbey. He achieved
fame as an author, philosopher,
alchemist and astronomer. Chaucer
also maintained an active career in
the civil service as a courtier and
diplomat. Among his many works,
which include The Book of the
Duchess, the House of Fame, the
Legend of Good Women and
Troilus and Criseyde, he is best
known today for The Canterbury
Tales. Chaucer is a crucial figure
in developing the legitimacy of the
vernacular, Middle English, at a
time when the dominant literary
languages in England were French
and Latin.

6. From Canterbury Tales A riddle written in Old English
(Middle English)
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, Ic wæs fæmne geong, feaxhar cwene,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, Ond ænlic rinc on ane tid;
To ferne halwes, couthe in sondry londs; Fleah mid fulgum ond on flode swom,
And specially from every shires ende Deaf under ype dead mid fiscum,
Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende, Ond on foldan stop; hæfde ferδ cwicu
The holy blisful martir for to seeke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seke.

7. William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English
poet and playwright, widely regarded as the
greatest writer in the English language.
Shakespeare was born and brought up in
Stratford-upon-Avon. At the age of 18, he
married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had
three children. In 1585 he began a
successful career in London as an actor,
writer, and part owner of a playing company
called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later
known as the King's Men. His early plays
were mainly comedies and histories. He then
wrote mainly tragedies until about 1608,
including Hamlet, King Lear, Othello, and
Macbeth, considered some of the finest
works in the English language.

8. Globe
theatre

9. Shakespeare famous monologue from Hamlet
To be or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
And, by opposing, end them? To die, - to sleep, -
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end But that the dread of something after death,
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
That flesh is heir to, ‘tis a consummation No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
Devoutly to be wished. To die; - to sleep; - And make us rather bear those ills we have
To sleep! Perchance to dream! Ay, there s the rub; Than fly to others that we know not of?
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, And thus the native hue of resolution
Must give us pause: there s the respect Is sicklied over with the pale cast of thought,
That makes calamity of so long life; The enterprises of great pitch and moment
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, With this regard their currents turn awry
The oppressor s wrong, the proud man s contumely, And lose the name of action.
The pangs of disprized love, the law s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bare,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,

10. Shakespeare about love: Sonnet XCI
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their wealth, some in their bodies’ force
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour hath his own adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments’ cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And having thee of all men’s pride I boast:
Wretched in this alone, that you mayst take
All this away and me most wretched make.

11. Robert Burns (1759 –1796) is
widely regarded as the national poet
of Scotland, and is celebrated
worldwide. He is the best known of
the poets who have written in the
Scots language, although much of his
writing is also in English and a "light"
Scots dialect, accessible to an
audience beyond Scotland. He is
regarded as a pioneer of the Romantic
movement, and after his death he
became a great source of inspiration
to the founders of both liberalism and
socialism, and a cultural icon in
Scotland. Burns also collected folk
songs from across Scotland, often
revising or adapting them. His song
Auld Lang Syne is often sung at
Hogmanay (the last day of the year),
and Scots Wha Hae served for a long
time as an unofficial national anthem
of the country.

12. My Heart’s in the Highlands
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands achasing the deer,
Chasing the wild deer and following the roe.
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.
All hail to the Highlands, all hail to the North,
The birth-place of valour, the country of worth,
Wherever I wonder, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands forever I love.
Farewell to the mountains, high covered with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below,
Farewell to the forests and high hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud pouring floods.
Adieu for a while, I can never forget thee,
The land of my fathers, the soil of my free,
I sigh for the hour that shall bid me retrace
The path of my childhood, my own native place.

13. O My Luve’s Like a Red, Red rose
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deeply in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry;
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

14. Epigrams
Of Lordly acquaintances you boast, У него герцогиня знакомая,
And the Dukes that you dined wi’ yestreen, Пообедал он с графом на днях…
Yet an insect’s an insect at most, Но осталось собой насекомое,
Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Queen! Побывав в королевских кудрях.
That there is falsehood in his looks, Нет, у него не лживый взгляд.
I must and will deny: Его глаза не лгут.
They say their Master is a knave, Они правдиво говорят,
And sure they do not lie. Что их владелец – плут.
‘Stop, thief!’ dame Nature call’d to death, Склонясь у гробового входа,
As Willy drew his latest breath; - О смерть! – воскликнула природа, -
‘How shall I make a fool again? Когда удастся мне опять
My choicest model thou hast ta’en.’ Такого олуха создать!..
In se’enteen hunder forty-nine В году семьсот сорок девятом
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine, (Точнее я не помню даты)
An’ coost it in a corner; Лепить свинью задумал черт.
But wilily he chang’d his plan, Но вдруг в последнее мгновенье
An’ shap’d it something like a man, Он изменил свое решенье,
An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner. И вас он вылепил, милорд!

15. Rhyme
В классическом английском стихосложении три вида рифмы:
• Masculine (мужская): ударение падает на конечный слог
All days are nights to see till I see thee;
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
• Feminine (женская): ударение падает на предпоследний слог
Thy gowns, thy shoes, the beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
• Triple (трехсложная): ударение на третьем слоге от конца строки, чаще в легких,
юмористических стихах
Stranger! Approach this spot with gravity!
John Brown is filling his last cavity.

16. Blank verse
‘The tragic history of Dr. Faustus’ by Christopher Marlowe, 1589. The story tells about
necromancer Faustus who sells his soul to the devil in exchange for knowledge and power.
Mephostophilis: But now thou must bequeath it solemnly,
And write a deed of gift with thine own blood,
For that security craves Lucifer.
If thou deny it, I must back to hell.
Faustus: Stay, Mephostophilis, and tell me
What good will my soul do thy lord?
Mephostophilis: Enlarge his kingdom.
Faustus: First will I question with thee about hell.
Tell me, where is the place that men call hell?
Mephostophilis: Under the heavens.
Faustus: Ay, so are all things else; but whereabouts?
Mephostophilis: Within the bowels of these elements,
Where we are tortured and remain forever.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
In one self place, but where we are is hell,
And where hell is, there we must ever be…
Faustus: I think hell’s a fable.
Mephostophilis: Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind

17. Love’s secret by William Blake
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! She did depart!
Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, Invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.

18. Lucy by William Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid to whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh!
The difference to me.

19. She is not fair by Samuel Coleridge
She is not fair to outward view,
As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me.
Oh, then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold –
To mine they ne’er reply;
And Yet I ceased not to behold
The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are sweeter far
Than smiles of other maidens are.

20. Walter Landor epigram on Georges the Kings
George the First was always reckoned
Vile, but viler George the Second;
And what mortal ever heard
Any good of George the Third?
When from earth the Fourth descended
God be praised, the Georges ended!

21. George Gordon Byron (1788 – 1824),
commonly known simply as Lord Byron, was a
British poet and a leading figure in the Romantic
movement. Among Byron's best-known works are
the brief poems She Walks in Beauty, When We
Two Parted, and So, we'll go no more a roving, in
addition to the narrative poems Childe Harold's
Pilgrimage and Don Juan. He is regarded as one
of the greatest British poets and remains widely
read and influential.
Byron was celebrated in life for aristocratic
excesses including huge debts, numerous love
affairs, rumours of a scandalous incestuous liaison
with his half-sister, and self-imposed exile. He
was famously described by Lady Caroline Lamb
as "mad, bad and dangerous to know". It has been
speculated that he suffered from bipolar I
disorder, or manic depression. He travelled to
fight against the Ottoman Empire in the Greek
War of Independence, for which Greeks revere
him as a national hero. He died at 36 years old
from a fever contracted while in Missolonghi in
Greece.

22. Stanzas
When a man has no freedom to fight for at home,
Let him combat for that of his neighbours;
Let him think of the glory of Greece and of Rome,
And get knocked on the head for his labours.
To be good to mankind is a chivalrous plan,
And is always as nobly requited;
Addressed to the Rev. J.T.Beecher,
Then battle for freedom wherever you can,
And, if not shot or hanged, you’ll get knighted. On His Advising the Author
To Mix More with Society
Dear Beecher, you tell me to mix with mankind;
I cannot deny such a precept is wise;
But retirement accords with the tone of my mind;
I will never descend to a world I despise.
Deceit is a stranger, as yet, to my soul;
I, still, am unpractised to varnish the truth:
Then, why should I live in a hateful control?
Why waste, upon folly, the days of my youth?

23. Sympathy by Emily Bronte
There should be no despair for you
While nightly stars are burning,
While evening pours its silent dew
And sunshine gilds the morning.
There should be no despair, though tears
May flow down like a river:
Are not the best beloved of years
Around your heart forever?
They weep – you weep – it must be so;
Winds sigh as you are sighing;
And Winter sheds its grief in snow
Where Autumn’s leaves are lying:
Yet these revive, and from their fate
Your fate cannot be parted,
Then journey on, if not elate,
Still, never broken-hearted!

24. If - - by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can make one heap of all your winnings
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
But make allowance on their doubting to; And lose, and start again at your beginnings
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, And never breathe a word about your loss;
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And yet don’t look too good, don’t talk too wise: And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim, If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
And treat those two impostors just the same; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken If all man count with you, but none too much;
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, If you can feel the unforgiving minute
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools; Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And - which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

25. Memory game
1. What is the longest surviving poem in Old English?
2. Who is called the Father of English literature and why?
3. What are the most famous tragedies written by William Shakespeare?
4. Who is considered the national poet of Scotland?
5. What kinds of rhyme are used in English verse-making?
6. What is the blank verse?
7. What authors does the love lyrics you’ve just listen belong to?
8. What is the most famous work of lord Byron?
9. What differ Kipling view of society relationship from that of Byron?
10. What periods in the history of English literature you may name?