PLEASURE DOME

Conceived and Written by: Hillary Dixler, David Harrington, Andrew Starner

Directed by: David Harrington ‘09 and Andrew Starner GS ‘12

Set Design and Video Art: Jay Gidwitz ‘10

Lighting Design: Eric Rudisaile ‘09

Movement: Hollis Mickey ‘10

Costumes: Kaitlyn Stanhope ‘10

Sound Design: David Harrington ‘09

Statement of Purpose:

“Why me?” “BECAUSE YOU ARE ON TV, DUMMY!”

Pleasure Dome is about dissolving, collapsing, and breaking boundaries: between duration and limit, between spectator and performer, and between the real and the unreal. PD is no empty gesture, a game—although we do intend to be playful—it is rather an encounter inspired by postmodernism albeit one in which pastiche doesn’t destroy art or annihilate its newness, but through a process of flattening and laminating, creates new sites for work.

Pleasure Dome aims to interrogate mediation. Our source texts share common preoccupations with creative process, inspiration, how nonsense precedes sense, desire, and where madness, hallucination, live television, and the real collide. We offer you what we intend to offer our cast: a list of characters, scenarios, and textual fragments to navigate as you wish. These elements will be culled from four disparate texts that share an common preoccupation with communication. Together, the ensemble will build small performances inspired by Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Though the Looking-Glass (they will form the bulk of the performance script), Coleridge’s “Kubla Khan,” Sidney Lumet‘s Network (1976) and David Cronenberg’s Videodrome (1983). We will then use these researches in a similar way that we used the texts inspiring the show: we will choose what to keep, what to reshape, what to (mis)place.

These are the elements (which although structural are neither exclusive nor binding, but rather macroscopic concepts): we consider Alice to occupy the place of text, of nonsense, silliness; “Kubla Khan” is the site of pure sensation, emotion, sound, and a kind of ambient expressionism, all working on the body (of actor and audience); Videodrome, a pure surface, mediated screen-images calling into question the culpability of the spectator; and finally Network provides a terrain for our intrepid psychonauts: the television studio, a space to literalize our conceptual compulsions.

We hope to create distinct, informed physical vocabularies for each performer. These choices will be collaborative, each actor will help conceive their role in the show. Our hope is that each actor will not only creatively influence the vision of the show, but that within the performance itself, will be fully invested in their role—working from the inside out intellectually and emotionally, and from the outside in physically and spatially.

We would describe this piece as an environmental performance: an experience of canonical texts that are always already mediated, elements of a performance that has always already existed. The idea of beginning and ending—temporality itself—will be blurred as in a television that never shuts off. Following Network as it insists that we examine our position as spectators, our complicity in media constructions of consensus, we will use these same mechanisms to expand this question to confront the status of the spectator in relation to the whole—working these questions through repetition, duration, and feedback.

We suggest that being “captured” on television is a trip down the rabbit-hole; an immersive experience of multiple worlds. This act of immersion will not be about a suspension of disbelief, but rather a practice which subjects the audience and the text to the same discipline, a flattening and laminating of separated bodies onto one another through simultaneous performance, and the breaking of boundaries between spectator and performer, author and actor, text and image.

We live in a saturated reality of proliferating moments in a digital multiverse. Rather than pointing to this, our current state, Pleasure Dome looks back in time to its birth—a liminal moment in technological and broadcast history and yet further back to the prenatal flowering of screenal culture via photography pioneer Lewis Carroll viewed hazily in an opium dream of Romanticism’s desiring. PW’s space is conducive to our project of reimaging the body of the actor and the body of the spectator. A flexible environment is essential to our goal of interrupting the circuit of the fourth wall…which announces itself first and foremost as a screen.

Pleasure Dome calls for a cast of at least seven, but with the potential for a larger ensemble.

Dramatis Personae:

The Author… a dead man

Alice…a precocious child

The Abyssinian Maid…a most poetic incarnation of femininity

Miss Video…being a mediated body

The Mad Hatter…a Surgeon in a mask

The Confidant…being a many-segmented host of a daytime talk show

The Despot…being a grotesquely fat man

The Anchorman…a prophet of the digital age

Chorus:

Trance-Happening Orchestra…armed with gongs and drums

Technicians…are they responsible for all of this?

SCENARIOS:

Note: numbers in parentheses refer to possible connections to the text (which follows), these are not concrete, but are included to give the reader a sense of the stage pictures we hope to create.

A. Three girls in a boat (1)

The three different women (“little girls” see text 1) alone on the stage, the lines of text 1 being spoken. This is a moment of exposition that will happen towards the beginning, a scene where the three identities (Alice, Abyssinan Maid, and Miss Video) are marked, so that they may be melted and flattened onto one another during the course of the piece.

B. Playing the dulcimer (MOTIF) (26)

First The Abyssinian Maid, and later other women, playing ‘the dulcimer’—which will actually be a hybrid set-piece and musical instrument. When The Abyssinian Maid plays the dulcimer, she may deliver the text of “Kubla Khan” in vocalese—meaning that she will turn the poem into a kind of song without words, equal cry and moan.

C. The Nightly News

The camera crew films the audience while the Anchorman narrates.

D. Chesire Cat Totem (8)

A prayer sequence during which the Cheshire-cat-totem is lowered from the sky, a moment of stillness, perhaps The Abyssinian Maid is the one who interacts with it.

E. Consumption and Shrinking

Alice consumes (the drink, the cake, the drugs), and crawls through a tiny door. When she emerges, everything around her is exceedingly huge, she is dwarfed by the environment.

F. Dance Number-Electronica-Video Art

A collision of a 70’s Vegas floor show and a 60’s Laugh In-style happening erupts, Alice wanders in, and the actors are consumed by psychedelic-new wave video art playing on the screen behind them—they exit and the audience is left watching only the pulsating video art, words flashing across the screen: Feed me. Eat me. Read me. Fuck me. Hit me. Cut me. Love me, etc.

G. Live and Mediated Scenes of Distress (MOTIF)

Interviews with foreign heads of state.

H. Trance-Procession

A trance meeting via a La Monte Young style happening/composition. The full ensemble will be armed with drums and gongs to create a joyous outpouring of “live” “audience” “pleasure” for the viewers at “home.”

I. Sermon

This will be another moment of a kind of screen-silence—a portion of the piece when the focus of the audience will be directed towards the central screen, and the performance will be almost completely mediated (cf. video-art/electronica sequence). This is also the only instance in which we will cull text from Videodrome and Network. The sermon will be a compilation of tele-philosophical monologues about the convergence of television and our minds, delivered by an actor on a pre-recorded video.

J. The Rabbit-hole Ballet

The recreation on stage of the feeling of falling down the rabbit-hole, objects are hung or lowered from the rafters.

K. Television Talk Show (MOTIF)

MOTIF: A television talk show that does not happen on the stage space, during which different permutations of characters have different or similar conversations. This is a motif that could recur while other action is taking place on stage or on screen.

L. An Auction

Audience remembers are provided with paddles to aid in the bidding process.

M. Screen moment

A scene in which Alice passes through the looking glass and Miss Video becomes one with the screen.

N. The Loop

“The end.” Messages from our corporate sponsors repeated indefinitely. The audience chooses when to leave.

TEXT

1.

How this book came to be.

There were three little girls in a boat—three little girls and a mathematical lecturer. But the three little girls were not studying fractions. They were listening to the fascinating chronicle of a little girl called Alice and her remarkable adventures underground. One of the girls in the boat was herself an Alice.

The mathematician liked his little story so well that he later wrote it down.

At the bottom of the last page of text, he pasted a photograph of Alice—a photograph that he himself had taken, for he was one of the earliest amateurs of the art.

He gave the manuscript to Alice.

2.

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister

on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had

peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no

pictures or conversations in it.

And what is the use of a book without pictures or conversation?

3.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well. Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next.

She tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to

see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labeled `ORANGE MARMALADE’, but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

I wonder if I shall fall right THROUGH the earth! How funny it’ll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I

Think but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know.

Please, Ma’am, is this New Zealand or Australia?

She tried to curtsey as she spoke–fancy CURTSEYING as you’re falling

through the air! Do you think you could manage it?

4.

And what an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.

Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of

Way:

Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?

Do bats eat cats?

It was all very well to say `Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not going to do THAT in a hurry. `No, I’ll look first,’ she said, `and see whether it’s marked “poison” or not’;

for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they WOULD not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger VERY deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked `poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

What a curious feeling!

Alas for poor Alice!

5.

Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won’t she be savage if I’ve kept her waiting!

6.

Dear, dear! How queer everything is to-day! I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Who in the world am I? Ah, THAT’S the great puzzle!’ I’ll try if I know all the things I used to know. Let me see: four times five is twelve, and four times six is thirteen, and four times seven is–oh dear! I shall never get to twenty at that rate! However, the

Multiplication Table doesn’t signify: let’s try Geography. London is the capital of Paris, and Paris is the capital of Rome, and Rome–no, THAT’S all wrong, I’m certain!

7.

Who are YOU?

I–I hardly know, sir, just at present–at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.

What do you mean by that? Explain yourself!

I can’t explain MYSELF, I’m afraid, sir, because I’m not myself, you see.

I don’t see.

I’m afraid I can’t put it more clearly, for I can’t understand it myself to begin with; and

being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing.

It isn’t.

Well, perhaps you haven’t found it so yet, but when you have to turn into a chrysalis–you will some day, you know–and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you’ll

feel it a little queer, won’t you?

Not a bit.

Well, perhaps your feelings may be different, all I know is, it would feel very queer to ME.

You! Who are YOU?’

I think, you ought to tell me who YOU are, first.

Why?

Come back!

I’ve something important to say!’

Keep your temper.

Is that all?

No.

So you think you’re changed, do you?

I’m afraid I am, sir. I can’t remember things as I used–and I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!

Can’t remember WHAT things?

Well, I’ve tried to say “HOW DOTH THE LITTLE BUSY BEE,” but it

all came different!

Alice folded her hands, and began, opening her mouth very wide.

That is not said right.

Not QUITE right, I’m afraid. Some of the words have got altered.’

It is wrong from beginning to end.

What size do you want to be?

Oh, I’m not particular as to size, only one doesn’t like changing so often, you know.

I DON’T know.

Are you content now?

Well, I should like to be a LITTLE larger, sir, if you wouldn’t mind. Three inches is such a wretched height to be.

It is a very good height indeed!

But I’m not used to it!

You’ll get used to it in time.

8.

Cheshire Puss.

Come, it’s pleased so far.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’

That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.

I don’t much care where–

Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.

–so long as I get SOMEWHERE.

Oh, you’re sure to do that, if you only walk long enough.

What sort of people live about here?

Visit either you like: they’re both mad.

But I don’t want to go among mad people.

Oh, you can’t help that; we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.

How do you know I’m mad?

You must be, or you wouldn’t have come here.

9.

Your hair wants cutting.

You should learn not to make personal remarks, it’s very rude.

Why is a raven like a writing-desk?

Come, we shall have some fun now! I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles.–I believe I can guess that.

Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?

Exactly so.

Then you should say what you mean.

I do, at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.

Not the same thing a bit!

You might just as well say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat

what I see”!

You might just as well say that “I like what I get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!

You might just as well say, I breathe when I sleep” is the

same thing as “I sleep when I breathe”!

It IS the same thing with you.

What day of the month is it?

The fourth.

Two days wrong!

What a funny watch! It tells the day of the month, and doesn’t tell what o’clock it is!

Why should it? Does YOUR watch tell you what year it is?

Of course not, but that’s because it stays the same year for such a long time together.

Which is just the case with MINE.

I don’t quite understand you.

Have you guessed the riddle yet?

No, I give it up. What’s the answer?

I haven’t the slightest idea.

Nor I.

I think you might do something better with the time than waste it in asking riddles that

have no answers.

If you knew Time as well as I do, you wouldn’t talk about wasting IT. It’s HIM.

I don’t know what you mean.

Of course you don’t. I dare say you never even spoke to Time!

Perhaps not, but I know I have to beat time when I learn music.

Ah! that accounts for it. He won’t stand beating. Now, if you only kept on good terms with him, he’d do almost anything you liked with the clock. For instance, suppose

it were nine o’clock in the morning, just time to begin lessons: you’d only have to whisper a hint to Time, and round goes the clock in a twinkling! Half-past one, time for dinner!

It’s always tea-time, and we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles.

Then you keep moving round, I suppose?

Exactly so, as the things get used up.

But what happens when you come to the beginning again?

Take some more tea.

I’ve had nothing yet, so I can’t take more.

You mean you can’t take LESS, it’s very easy to take MORE than nothing.

Nobody asked YOUR opinion.

I want a clean cup, let’s all move one place on.

At any rate I’ll never go THERE again! It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!

10.

How are you getting on?

Who ARE you talking to?’

It’s a friend of mine–a Cheshire Cat, allow me

to introduce it.’

I don’t like the look of it at all. However, it may kiss my hand if it likes.

I’d rather not.

Don’t be impertinent. And don’t look at me like that!

I wish you would have this cat removed!

Off with his head!

I’ll fetch the executioner myself.

The executioner’s argument was, that you couldn’t cut off a head unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn’t going to begin at HIS time of life.

The King’s argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you weren’t to talk nonsense.

The Queen’s argument was, that if something wasn’t done about it in less than no time she’d have everybody executed, all round.

12.

Wake up, Alice dear! Why, what a long sleep you’ve had!’

Oh, I’ve had such a curious dream!

It WAS a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it’s

getting late.

But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream: First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers–she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that WOULD always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream. So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality–the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds–the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy–and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard–while the lowing of the

cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs. Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and

loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make THEIR eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

13.

Let’s pretend that you’re the Red Queen, Kitty! Do you know, I think if you sat up and folded your arms, you’d look exactly like her. Now do try, there’s a dear!’ And Alice got the Red Queen off the table, and set it up before the kitten as a model for it to imitate: however, the thing didn’t succeed, principally, Alice said, because the kitten wouldn’t fold its arms properly. So, to punish it, she held it up to the Looking-glass, that it might see how sulky it was–’and if you’re not good directly,’ she added, ‘I’ll put you through into Looking-glass House. How would you like THAT?’

Now, if you’ll only attend, Kitty, and not talk so much, I’ll tell you all my ideas about Looking-glass House.

Well then, the books are something like our books, only the words go the wrong way; I know that, because I’ve held up one of our books to the glass, and then they hold up one in the other room.

How would you like to live in Looking-glass House, Kitty? I wonder if they’d give you milk in there? Perhaps Looking-glass milk isn’t good to drink—

14.

Oh, Kitty! how nice it would be if we could only get through into Looking-glass House! I’m sure it’s got, oh! such beautiful things in it! Let’s pretend there’s a way of getting through into it, somehow, Kitty. Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so

that we can get through. Why, it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It’ll be easy enough to get through–’

She was up on the chimney-piece while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glass WAS beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist.

Oh, what fun it’ll be, when they see me through the glass in here, and can’t get at me!’

15.

There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read, ‘–for it’s all in some language I don’t know.’

It was like this.

Why, it’s a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again.

This was the poem that Alice read.

16.

It seems very pretty,’ she said when she had finished it, ‘but it’s RATHER hard to understand!’ (You see she didn’t like to confess, ever to herself, that she couldn’t make it out at all.) ‘Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas–only I don’t exactly know what they are! However, SOMEBODY killed SOMETHING: that’s clear, at any rate–’

17.

This must be the wood, where things have no names. I wonder what’ll become of MY name when I go in? I shouldn’t like to lose it at all—

–because they’d have to give me another, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then the fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name! That’s just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose dogs–”ANSWERS TO

THE NAME OF ‘DASH:’ HAD ON A BRASS COLLAR”–just fancy calling everything you met “Alice,” till one of them answered! Only they wouldn’t answer at all, if they were wise.

Well, at any rate it’s a great comfort,’ she said as she stepped under the trees, ‘after being so hot, to get into the–into WHAT?

I mean to get under the–under the–under THIS, you know!

18.

If you think we’re wax-works, you ought to pay, you know. Wax-works weren’t made to be looked at for nothing, no how!

Contrariwise, if you think we’re alive, you ought to speak.

I’m sure I’m very sorry.

I know what you’re thinking about, but it isn’t so, nohow.

Contrariwise, if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.

I was thinking, which is the best way out of this wood: it’s getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?

First Boy!

Nohow!

Next Boy!

Are there any lions or tigers about here?

It’s only the Red King snoring.

Come and look at him!

Isn’t he a LOVELY sight?

I’m afraid he’ll catch cold with lying on the damp grass.

He’s dreaming now, and what do you think he’s dreaming about?

Nobody can guess that.

Why, about YOU! And if he left off dreaming about you, where do

you suppose you’d be?

Where I am now, of course.

Not you! You’d be nowhere. Why, you’re only a sort of thing in his dream!

If that there King was to wake, you’d go out–bang!–just like a candle!

I shouldn’t! Besides, if I’M only a sort of thing in his dream, what are YOU, I should like to know?

Ditto.

Ditto, ditto.

Hush! You’ll be waking him, I’m afraid, if you make so much noise.

Well, it no use YOUR talking about waking him, when you’re only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you’re not real.

I AM real!

You won’t make yourself a bit realler by crying, there’s nothing to cry about.

If I wasn’t real, I shouldn’t be able to cry.

I hope you don’t suppose those are real tears?

I know they’re talking nonsense, and it’s foolish to cry about it.

At any rate I’d better be getting out of the wood, for really it’s coming on very

dark. Do you think it’s going to rain?

It may–if it chooses, we’ve no objection.

Contrariwise.

Selfish things!

19.

I don’t care for jam.

It’s very good jam.

Well, I don’t want any TO-DAY, at any rate.

You couldn’t have it if you DID want it. The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday–but never jam to-day.

It MUST come sometimes to “jam to-day.”

No, it can’t. It’s jam every OTHER day: to-day isn’t any OTHER day, you know.

I don’t understand you. It’s dreadfully confusing!

That’s the effect of living backwards, ‘it always makes one a little giddy at first–

Living backwards! I never heard of such a thing!

–but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both ways.

I’m sure MINE only works one way. I can’t remember things before they happen.

It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.

What sort of things do YOU remember best?

20.

Oh, oh, oh! My finger’s bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!

What IS the matter? Have you pricked your finger?

I haven’t pricked it YET, but I soon shall–oh, oh, oh!

When do you expect to do it?

When I fasten my shawl again, the brooch will come undone directly. Oh, oh!

Take care! You’re holding it all crooked!

That accounts for the bleeding, you see. Now you understand the way things happen here.

But why don’t you scream now?

Why, I’ve done all the screaming already. What would be the good of having it all over again?

21.

You seem very clever at explaining words, Sir. Would you kindly tell me the meaning of the poem called “Jabberwocky”?’

Let’s hear it. I can explain all the poems that were ever invented–and a good many that haven’t been invented just yet.

This sounded very hopeful, so Alice repeated the first verse:

22.

You’ve missed the soup and fish. Put on the joint!

You look a little shy; let me introduce you to that leg of Mutton. Alice–Mutton; Mutton–Alice.

May I give you a slice?

Certainly not, it isn’t etiquette to cut any one you’ve been introduced to.

I won’t be introduced to the pudding, please, or we shall get no dinner at all. May I give you some?

Pudding–Alice; Alice–Pudding. Remove the pudding!

What impertinence! I wonder how you’d like it, if I were to cut a slice out of YOU, you creature!

Make a remark; it’s ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding!

Do you know, I’ve had such a quantity of poetry repeated to me

to-day.

23.

I can’t stand this any longer!

As for YOU.

As for YOU.

As for YOU, I’ll shake you into a kitten, that I will!

24.

‘You woke me out of oh! such a nice dream! And you’ve

been along with me, Kitty–all through the Looking-Glass world.

Did you know it, dear?’

‘Now, Kitty, let’s consider who it was that dreamed it all.

This is a serious question, my dear, and you should NOT go on

licking your paw like that– You see, Kitty, it MUST have been either me or the Red

King. He was part of my dream, of course–but then I was part

of his dream, too! WAS it the Red King, Kitty? You were his

wife, my dear, so you ought to know–Oh, Kitty, DO help to settle it!

25.

Which do YOU think it was?

26.

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!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

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!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw:

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight ‘twould win me

That with music loud and long

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed

And drunk the milk of Paradise.