#Regain'd

[uwmspeccoll]

It’s Fine Press Friday! 

John Milton’s Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained is here illustrated by American artist, illustrator, and printmaker, Carlotta Petrina (1901-1997) and  printed in 1939 for the members of the Limited Editions Club (LEC) by California fine printer John Henry Nash (1871-1947) in San Francisco in an edition of 1500 copies signed by the artist.. 

Paradise Lost is an epic poem written in blank verse, first printed in 1667 by Samuel Simmons, London. Its sequel, Paradise Regained, was first printed in 1671 by John Martyn. The sixteen drawings by Carlotta Petrina for this LEC edition serve as the opening pages for each book of the poem. The drawings are reproduced in photogravure which captures the richness of the original drawing with its velvety blacks and subtle tones. They appear as though the artist drew directly on the page, erasures and all. The Eve figure is based on Petrina herself, and the male figure was based on her late husband. This personal touch creates a greater level of intimacy and emotion in the images. 

The type is eighteen-point Cloister Light. The paper was made by Strathmore. The binding is quarter Irish linen with covers wrapped in a paper brilliantly decorated in batik. Gift of Loryn Romadka from the collection of Austin Fredric Lutter. 

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– Teddy, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Eugène Delacroix, The Prisoner of Chillon

He was a French Romantic artist regarded from the outset of his career as the leader of the French Romantic school.

🫶 I love this long poem .. . :'( hi ya!!! . ...

《The Prisoner of Chillon》拜倫勳爵 Lord Byron (George Gordon) An excerpt from this long poem of him and my favorite parts of :

A kind of change came in my fate, My keepers grew compassionate; I know not what had made them so, They were inured to sights of woe, But so it was:—my broken chain With links unfasten'd did remain, And it was liberty to stride Along my cell from side to side, And up and down, and then athwart, And tread it over every part; And round the pillars one by one, Returning where my walk begun, Avoiding only, as I trod, My brothers' graves without a sod; For if I thought with heedless tread My step profaned their lowly bed, My breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crush'd heart felt blind and sick. I made a footing in the wall, It was not therefrom to escape, For I had buried one and all, Who loved me in a human shape; And the whole earth would henceforth be A wider prison unto me: No child, no sire, no kin had I, No partner in my misery; I thought of this, and I was glad, For thought of them had made me mad; But I was curious to ascend To my barr'd windows, and to bend Once more, upon the mountains high, The quiet of a loving eye.

I saw them—and they were the same, They were not changed like me in frame; I saw their thousand years of snow On high—their wide long lake below, And the blue Rhone in fullest flow; I heard the torrents leap and gush O'er channell'd rock and broken bush; I saw the white-wall'd distant town, And whiter sails go skimming down; And then there was a little isle, Which in my very face did smile, The only one in view; A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue. The fish swam by the castle wall, And they seem'd joyous each and all; The eagle rode the rising blast, Methought he never flew so fast As then to me he seem'd to fly; And then new tears came in my eye, And I felt troubled—and would fain I had not left my recent chain; And when I did descend again, The darkness of my dim abode Fell on me as a heavy load; It was as is a new-dug grave, Closing o'er one we sought to save,— And yet my glance, too much opprest, Had almost need of such a rest.

It might be months, or years, or days— I kept no count, I took no note— I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote; At last men came to set me free; I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where; It was at length the same to me, Fetter'd or fetterless to be, I learn'd to love despair. And thus when they appear'd at last, And all my bonds aside were cast, These heavy walls to me had grown A hermitage—and all my own! And half I felt as they were come To tear me from a second home: With spiders I had friendship made And watch'd them in their sullen trade, Had seen the mice by moonlight play, And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill—yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learn'd to dwell; My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are:—even I Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

[gnatswatting]

• But what more oft in Nations grown corrupt, / And by thir vices brought to servitude, / Then to love Bondage more then Liberty, / Bondage with ease then strenuous liberty; —John Milton

PARADISE REGAIN'D. A POEM. In IV BOOKS. To which is added SAMSON AGONISTES. PARADISE REGAIN'D. A POEM. In IV BOOKS. To which is added SAMSON AGONISTES. (at Internet Archive)

[svenson777]

"I who e're while the happy Garden sung,

By one mans disobedience lost, now sing

Recover'd Paradise to all mankind,

By one mans firm obedience fully tri'd

Through all temptation, and the Tempter foil'd [ 5 ]

In all his wiles, defeated and repuls't,

And Eden rais'd in the wast Wilderness.

Thou Spirit, who ledst this glorious Eremite

Into the Desert, his Victorious Field

Against the Spiritual Foe, and broughtst him thence [ 10 ]

By proof th' undoubted Son of God, inspire,

As thou art wont, my prompted Song else mute,

And bear through highth or depth of natures bounds,

With prosperous wing full summ'd to tell of deeds

Above Heroic, though in secret done, [ 15 ]

And unrecorded left through many an Age,

Worthy t' have not remain'd so long unsung."

~

First lines from John Milton's epic poem "Paradise Regain'd"

The First Book (l. 1-17)

First published in 1671

[illiliilliliiilli]

be the chain of those events regain'd, That led my steps, where awful Horrors reign'd

anna seward

[ezrafuks]

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