Home cassandra clare chain of gold Cordelia Carstairs James Herondale la catena d'oro libri Lucie Herodale Chain of Gold: le poesie da cui sono tratti i titoli dei capitoli.

Chain of Gold: le poesie da cui sono tratti i titoli dei capitoli.

febbraio 29, 2020
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febbraio 29, 2020
Cassandra Clare ha condiviso i titoli dei capitoli di Chain of Gold, e ha rivelato che sono titoli e versi di poemi con cui i vari personaggi avevano familiarità. Quindi abbiamo pensato di fare qualche ricerca, e abbiamo trovato delle poesie che fanno al caso nostro. Ovviamente si tratta soltanto supposizioni, e non possiamo che aspettare qualche altra informazione. E' stato molto difficile e dobbiamo ringraziare anche aiuti esterni come quello di Clara.

Qui trovate il link per comprare il libro




Iniziamo!

 Capitolo 1: Better Angels
Purtroppo non abbiamo trovato molto

 Capitolo 2: Ashes to roses
La poesia che abbiamo trovato è "Ashes to roses" di Elaine Goodale Eastman (1863–1953):
SOFT on the sunset sky
  Bright daylight closes,
Leaving, when light doth die,
Pale hues that mingling lie,—
  Ashes of roses.       
When love’s warm sun is set,
  Love’s brightness closes;
Eyes with hot tears are wet,
In hearts there linger yet
  Ashes of roses.

 Link di riferimento:https://www.bartleby.com/360/3/22.html
Capitolo 3:The living Hand
La poesia che abbiamo trovato è "This living hand, now warm and capable" di John Keats
This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou would wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calm’d–see here it is–
I hold it towards you.


Link di riferimento: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50375/this-living-hand-now-warm-and-capable


Capitolo 4: Half sick of shadow
La poesia che abbiamo trovato è the lady of Shalott di Lord Tennyson.


Part II
No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmed web she weaves alway.
A curse is on her, if she stay
Her weaving, either night or day,
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be;
Therefore she weaveth steadily,
Therefore no other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

She lives with little joy or fear.
Over the water, running near,
The sheepbell tinkles in her ear.
Before her hangs a mirror clear,
Reflecting tower'd Camelot.
And as the mazy web she whirls,
She sees the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad,
Goes by to tower'd Camelot:
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, came from Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead
Came two young lovers lately wed;
'I am half sick of shadows,' said
The Lady of Shalott.

(the lady of Shallott)




Capitolo 5: Fallen With the Night
La poesia che abbiamo trovato è A march day in london di Amy Levy

The east wind blows in the street to-day;

The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.

'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.

From end to end, with aimless feet,
All day long have I paced the street.
My limbs are weary, but in my breast
Stirs the goad of a mad unrest.
I would give anything to stay
The little wheel that turns in my brain;
The little wheel that turns all day,
That turns all night with might and main.

What is the thing I fear, and why?
Nay, but the world is all awry--
The wind's in the east, the sun's in the sky.
The gas-lamps gleam in a golden line;
The ruby lights of the hansoms shine,
Glance, and flicker like fire-flies bright;
The wind has fallen with the night,
And once again the town seems fair
Thwart the mist that hangs i' the air.

And o'er, at last, my spirit steals
A weary peace ; peace that conceals
Within its inner depths the grain
Of hopes that yet shall flower again.




Capitolo 6: No More of Mirth
E' stata suggerita la poesia "The Deserted House" di Alfred Lord Tennyson
Life and Thought have gone away

Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!

All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

Close the door; the shutters close;

Or through the windows we shall see

The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.

Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.

Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious -
A great and distant city -have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!

Link di riferimento: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-deserted-house/


Capitolo 7: Fall of Songs
Purtroppo non abbiamo trovato nulla di concreto anche se vogliamo segnalarvi la poesia "Autumn songs" di Rossetti 


Capitolo 8: No Strange Land
E' stata suggerita la poesia In No Strange Land di Francis Thomson
The kingdom of God is within you

O world invisible, we view thee,
O world intangible, we touch thee,

O world unknowable, we know thee,

Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!


Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air—
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumor of thee there?

Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!—
The drift of pinions, would we hearken,
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors.

The angels keep their ancient places—
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis your estrangèd faces,
That miss the many-splendored thing.

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder)
Cry—and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter,
Cry—clinging to Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water,
Not of Genesareth, but Thames!



Capitolo 9: Deadly Wine
Abbiamo trovato la poesia "The Garden of Proserpine" di Algernon Charles Swinburne
Here, where the world is quiet;

Here, where all trouble seems

Dead winds' and spent waves' riot

In doubtful dreams of dreams;

I watch the green field growing

For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
And everything but sleep.


Here life has death for neighbour,
And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labour,
Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
And no such things grow here.

No growth of moor or coppice,
No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
For dead men deadly wine.

Pale, without name or number,
In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
Comes out of darkness morn.

Though one were strong as seven,
He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
In the end it is not well.




Pale, beyond porch and portal,

Crowned with calm leaves, she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her
To men that mix and meet her
From many times and lands.

She waits for each and other,
She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
And flowers are put to scorn.

There go the loves that wither,
The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
Red strays of ruined springs.

We are not sure of sorrow,
And joy was never sure;
To-day will die to-morrow;
Time stoops to no man's lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.

Capitolo 10: Loyalty Binds
Purtroppo neanche qui nulla

Capitolo 11: Talismans and Spells
E' stato proposto The Task, Book VI: The Winter Walk at Noon,” di William Cowper

Knowledge is proud that he has learn’d so much;

Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

Books are not seldom talismans and spells,
By which the magic art of shrewder wits
Holds an unthinking multitude enthrall’d.




Capitolo 12: The End of It
E' stata suggerita la poesia "The end of it" di Francis Thompson

She did not love to love; but hated him

For making her to love, and so her whim

From passion taught misprision to begin;
And all this sin
Was because love to cast out had no skill
Self, which was regent still.
Her own self-will made void her own self's will




Capitolo 13: Blue Ruin
Pensiamo possa essere parte del poema  Fifty Years Ago di Walter Besant


Among the lower classes gin was the favourite—the drink of the _ women as much as of the men. Do you know why they call it ‘blue ruin’? _ Some time ago I saw, going into a public-house, somewhere near the West India Docks, a tall lean man, apparently five-and-forty or there­abouts. He was in rags; his knees bent as he walked, his hands trembled his eyes were eager. And, wonderful to relate, the face was perfectly blue —not indigo blue, or azure blue,- but of a ghostly, ghastly, corpse-like kind of blue, which made one shudder. Said my companion to me, ‘That is gin.’

(Charlie Bowater)


Capitolo 14: Among Lions
Probabilmente è un riferimento biblico Ezekiel 19, versione King James


And he went up and down among the lions, he became a young lion,

 and learned to catch the prey, and devoured men.


Capitolo 15: The Whispering Room
Abbiamo trovato la poesia Vorfrühling di Hugo von Hofmannsthal

Traduzione inglese

The spring wind runs

Through leafless alleys,
Strange things are
It rocked itself,
In its blowing.

And nestled into
Where there were tears,
Ruined hair.
And cooled limbs
It shook down
Acacia blossoms
Lips in laughter,
That breathed and burned.

It has touched
It slid through the flute,
Burrowed through soft
And stirring fields.
Through whispering rooms
A sobbing cry,
Flew past
Darkening dusk.

It flew in silence
And, bending, extinguished
The glow of the lamp.
Through leafless alleys,
The spring wind runs
Strange things are
Leafless alleys
In its blowing.

Through smooth
Its blowing chases
From where it has come
Pale shadows.
And the fragrance
It has brought
Since last night!



Capitolo 16: Legion
Non siamo riusciti a trovare nulla

Capitolo 17: The Hollow Sea
E' stata suggerita la poesia "Poor ghost"di Christina Rossetti
‘Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me,

With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,

And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?’
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea,

‘From the other world I come back to you:
My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew,
You know the old, whilst I know the new:
‘Oh not to-morrow into the dark, I pray;
But to-morrow you shall know this too.’

Oh not to-morrow, too soon to go away:
‘Am I so changed in a day and a night
Here I feel warm and well-content and gay:
Give me another year, another day.’

And cover up his eyes from the sight?’
That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright,
Is fain to turn away to left or right

‘Indeed I loved you; I love you yet,
‘Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend,
I loved you for life, but life has an end;
But death mars all, which we cannot mend.
Through sickness I was ready to tend:

If you will stay where your bed is set,
Never doubt I will leave you alone
Where I have planted a violet,
Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet.’

‘Life is gone, then love too is gone,
And not wake you rattling bone with bone.
It was a reed that I leant upon:

And why did your sobs wake me where I lay?
‘I go home alone to my bed,
Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head,
Roofed in with a load of lead,
‘But why did your tears soak through the clay,
Warm enough for the forgotten dead.

I was away, far enough away:
Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day.’


Link di riferimento: https://poets.org/poem/poor-ghost

Capitolo 18: Darkness Stirs
Abbiamo trovato la poesia "A Summer Evening Churchyard, Lechlade, Gloucestershire" di Percy Bysshe Shelley

The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere

Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray,

In duskier braids around the languid eyes of Day:
And pallid Evening twines its beaming hair
Silence and Twilight, unbeloved of men,
They breathe their spells towards the departing day,
Creep hand in hand from yon obscurest glen.

Encompassing the earth, air, stars, and sea;
The winds are still, or the dry church-tower grass
Light, sound, and motion, own the potent sway,
Responding to the charm with its own mystery.
Obey'st I in silence their sweet solemn spells,
Knows not their gentle motions as they pass.

Thou too, aerial pile, whose pinnacles
Gather among the stars the clouds of night.
Point from one shrine like pyramids of fire,
Clothing in hues of heaven thy dim and distant spire,
The dead are sleeping in their sepulchres:
Around whose lessening and invisible height
Half sense half thought, among the darkness stirs,
And, mouldering as they sleep, a thrilling sound,
Breathed from their wormy beds all living things around,
And, mingling with the still night and mute sky,
Thus solemnized and softened, death is mild
Its awful hush is felt inaudibly.
And terrorless as this serenest night.
Sporting on graves, that death did hide from human sight
Here could I hope, like some enquiring child
Sweet secrets, or beside its breathless sleep
That loveliest dreams perpetual watch did keep.



Capitolo 19: All Places Hell
Abbiamo trovato alcuni versi da "The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus" di Marlowe

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,
And, to be short, when all the world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,
All places shall be hell that are not heaven.

Link di riferimento: Link


Capitolo 20: Less Than Gods
E' tratto da "Il paradiso Perduto" di Milton

Two potent thrones, that to be less than gods

Link di riferimento: Link


Capitolo 21: Burn
E' stato impossibile trovare un riferiemento


Capitolo 22:The rules of engagement
Nulla di specifico neanche qui

(Cassandra Jean)

Capitolo 23: No one who loves
Anche questa è una frase molto frequente e pertanto difficile da trovare



Questo è quello che abbiamo trovato fino ad ora! Cosa ne pensate? Speriamo vi sia piaciuto
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