‘Could a rule be given from without, poetry would cease to be poetry, and sink into a mechanical art. It would be μóρφωσις, not ποίησις. The rules of the IMAGINATION are themselves the very powers of growth and production. The words to which they are reducible, present only the outlines and external appearance of the fruit. A deceptive counterfeit of the superficial form and colours may be elaborated; but the marble peach feels cold and heavy, and children only put it to their mouths.’ [Coleridge, Biographia ch. 18]
‘ποίησις’ (poiēsis) means ‘a making, a creation, a production’ and is used of poetry in Aristotle and Plato. ‘μóρφωσις’ (morphōsis) in essence means the same thing: ‘a shaping, a bringing into shape.’ But Coleridge has in mind the New Testament use of the word as ‘semblance’ or ‘outward appearance’, which the KJV translates as ‘form’: ‘An instructor of the foolish, a teacher of babes, which hast the form [μóρφωσις] of knowledge and of the truth in the law’ [Romans 2:20]; ‘Having a form [μóρφωσις] of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away’ [2 Timothy 3:5]. I trust that's clear.
There is much more on Coleridge at my other, Coleridgean blog.
Wednesday, 21 November 2018
movierun, past new and hopes, from strike of back to bend of jeday, brings us by a commodius lucas of recirculation back to forestmoon and endor.
Sir Kywalker, violer d’amores, fr’over the short stars, had passen-core rearrived from North Dagobah on this side the scraggy isthwamp of yoda Minor to saberfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer’s rocks by the Duney Tattoee exaggerated themselse to fraherberts county’s Jabbios while they went doublin their muppets all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartspaceoperatick not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old threepeeo: not yet, though all’s fair in Leiaessy, were in-sistie smoochers wroth with twone famromance. Rot a peck of pa’s malt had Jhed or Sithen duelwed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the bewithyouforce.
The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner-ronntuonnthunntrovarr-hounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthur—nuk!) of a once moonhigh Deathstar is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all ewoke minstrelsy. The great fall of the offworld entailed at such short notice the pftjschoot of Falconmilleniums, erse solo man, that the humptyhillhead of zoomself prumptly sends an unquiring blast well to the core in darthdeathstarth of his powergenerator: and their aboutturnpikepoint is at the flight out of the innards where orangeplosions have been set to blast upon the core since fi-lmsfirst blew uppy.
What clashes here of woods gen wonts, blasterlaze gaggin ewokky-gods! Soundefects brékkek békkek kékkek kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu Ualu Ualu! Stormtroops! Where the Baddielaries clonimans are still out to blastmaster Rebelscum and the Verdroids cata-pelting the camibalistics out of the Wookieeboyce of Bacca Head. Rollinlogs and boomeringstorms. Sidth’s brood, be me fear! Endorians, save! Arms apeal with larms, appalling. Killykill-killy: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what skulshells aired and ventilated! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the vader of forcenicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath forcespanned most high heaven the skysign of deathstar advertisement! But was iz? Liuke? Ere were sibling? The oaks of ald now they lie under feat of Imperious ewokon Walkers yet elms leap where warmachine lay. Phall if you but will, be crushed you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the empirce come to a setdown secular phinish.
Bygmonster Annakin, of the Throatchokin Hand, forcemen’s mau-rer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofar — back for messuages before jeduan jedges had given us sabers. Oftwhile balbulous, helmet ahead, with goodly evil in grasp and blaclycape overalls which he habitacularly fondseed, like High Council Emperor would caligulate by multidecap-les the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the midichloriquor wheretwin ’twas born, a waalworth of a skyerscape of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitec-titiptitoploftical, with a burning bush abob off its baubletop and with at last plucking the Palpatine up and tombles a’blastiets clottering down the urbam chasam. Hohohoho, Mister Vader, you’re going to be Mister Annagain! Comeday morm and, O, you’re devadered! Hahahaha, Mister Kinn, you’re going to be haydened again!