martes, 20 de junio de 2017

Calificaciones 2017-2 (todos los cursos)

Queridos alumnos,

El periodo de firma de actas se extendió hasta el 23 de junio. Las calificaciones estarán disponibles ese día en el sistema.
También ese mismo día dejaré exámenes y trabajos que se hayan entregados físicamente en la Coordinación. Los que se entegaron por vía electrónica recibiran retroalimentación sintetizada por correo.

Un saludo a todos y felices vacaciones.

Gabriela  

miércoles, 24 de mayo de 2017

Poemas de Andrew Marvell para las útlimas dos sesiones.

Para las últimas dos sesiones del curso leeremos a Marvell.

Vamos a discutir "To his Coy Mistress", "The Mower against Gardens", "Damon the Mower", "The Mower Song"y "The Garden" en la primera sesión.
También hablaremos brevemente de los temas para sus trabajos finales.

En nuestra última sesión discutiremos "Upon Appleton House". 
Los poemas no vienen en la antología pero todos se consiguen en línea fácilmente.

La entrega del trabajo final será el 9 de junio por vía electrónica a la dirección: g.villanueva.noriega@comunidad.unam.mx

Un saludo 

Gabriela

miércoles, 3 de mayo de 2017

Poemas de Richard Crashaw para el viernes

Acá les dejo la carpeta donde está Steps to the temple. 

También lean los poemas de la antología de Grierson, por favor.

Saludos y nos vemos el viernes.

martes, 18 de abril de 2017

Elizabethan World Picture

Va la presentación sobre el mundo renacentista.
Le agregué algunos links que les pueden ayudar.



Saludos,

G.


miércoles, 29 de marzo de 2017

Coloquio Jonathan Swift: 350 años

Acá les comparto los carteles del curso de la Dra. Adela Ramos y el cartel del coloquio sobre Jonathan Swift.

Les recuerdo que el curso está pensado para alumnos de licenciatura en general, así que si les interesa aprovechen para ir.

También anexo aquí el enlace a las lecturas que se discutirán.

Un saludo

martes, 28 de marzo de 2017

Lecturas para el Seminario de Poesía Metafísica

Acá les dejo los textos de (y sobre) Yona Wallach que nos compartió Ndeni.
La idea es que lean los poemas y el ensayo para el viernes y que los discutamos en clase en relación con la poesía metafísica que hemos venido leyendo.

Muchos saludos,

Gabriela

PD. También aprovecho para compartirles el programa al curso de ecocrítica de la Dra. Adela Ramos.
Se ve muy interesante. Acá está,

jueves, 9 de marzo de 2017

Selected Poems by Sir Walter Raleigh


The Ocean To Cynthia

But stay, my thoughts, make end, give fortune way ;
Harsh is the voice of woe and sorrow's sound ;
Complaints cure not, and tears do but allay
Griefs for a time, which after more abound.

To seek for moisture in the Arabian sand
Is but a loss of labor and of rest ;
The links which time did break of hearty bands

Words cannot knit, or wailings make anew.
Seek not the sun in clouds when it is set.
On highest mountains, where those cedars grew,
Against whose banks the troubled ocean beat,

And were the marks to find thy hoped port,
Into a soil far off themselves remove ;
On Sestos' shore, Leander's late resort,
Hero hath left no lamp to guide her love.

Thou lookest for light in vain, and storms arise;
She sleeps thy death that erst thy danger sighed;
Strive then no more, bow down thy weary eyes,
Eyes which to all these woes thy heart have guided.

She is gone, she is lost, she is found, she is ever fair;
Sorrow draws weakly where love draws not too;
Woe's cries sound nothing, but only in love's ear.
Do then by dying what life cannot do.
Unfold thy flocks and leave them to the fields,
To feed on hills or dales, where likes them best,
Of what the summer or the springtime yields,
For love and time hath given thee leave to rest.

Thy heart which was their fold, now in decay
By often storms and winter's many blasts,
All torn and rent becomes misfortune's prey;
False hope, my shepherd's staff, now age hath brast.

My pipe, which love's own hand gave my desire
To sing her praises and my woe upon
Despair hath often threatened to the fire,
As vain to keep now all the rest are gone.

Thus home I draw, as death's long night draws on;
Yet every foot, old thoughts turn back mine eyes;
Constraint me guides, as old age draws a stone
Against the hill, which over-weighty lies

For feeble arms or wasted strength to move:
My steps are backward, gazing on my loss,
My mind's affection and my soul's sole love,
Not mixed with fancy's chaff or fortune's dross.

To God I leave it, who first gave it me,
And I her gave, and she returned again,
As it was hers; so let His mercies be
Of my last comforts the essential mean.

But be it so or not, the effects are past;
Her love hath end; my woe must ever last

The Lie

Go, soul, the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand;
Fear not to touch the best;
The truth shall be thy warrant:
Go, since I needs must die,
And give the world the lie.

Say to the court, it glows
And shines like rotten wood;
Say to the church, it shows
What's good, and doth no good:
If church and court reply,
Then give them both the lie.

Tell potentates, they live
Acting by others' action;
Not loved unless they give,
Not strong but by a faction.
If potentates reply,
Give potentates the lie.

Tell men of high condition,
That manage the estate,
Their purpose is ambition,
Their practice only hate:
And if they once reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell them that brave it most,
They beg for more by spending,
Who, in their greatest cost,
Seek nothing but commending.
And if they make reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell zeal it wants devotion;
Tell love it is but lust;
Tell time it is but motion;
Tell flesh it is but dust:
And wish them not reply,
For thou must give the lie.

Tell age it daily wasteth;
Tell honour how it alters;
Tell beauty how she blasteth;
Tell favour how it falters:
And as they shall reply,
Give every one the lie.

Tell wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness;
Tell wisdom she entangles
Herself in overwiseness:
And when they do reply,
Straight give them both the lie.

Tell physic of her boldness;
Tell skill it is pretension;
Tell charity of coldness;
Tell law it is contention:
And as they do reply,
So give them still the lie.

Tell fortune of her blindness;
Tell nature of decay;
Tell friendship of unkindness;
Tell justice of delay:
And if they will reply,
Then give them all the lie.

Tell arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
Tell schools they want profoundness,
And stand too much on seeming:
If arts and schools reply,
Give arts and schools the lie.

Tell faith it's fled the city;
Tell how the country erreth;
Tell manhood shakes off pity
And virtue least preferreth:
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.

So when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing--
Although to give the lie
Deserves no less than stabbing--
Stab at thee he that will,
No stab the soul can kill


What Is Our Life

What is our life? The play of passion.
Our mirth? The music of division:
Our motherswombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for lifes short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
Who sits and views whosoeer doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest,
And then we die in earnest, not in jest


A Vision Upon The Fairy Queen

Methought I saw the grave where Laura lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame
Was wont to burn; and, passing by that way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tomb fair Love and fairer Virtue kept,
All suddenly I saw the Fairy Queen,
At whose approach the soul of Petrarch wept ;
And from thenceforth those graces were not seen,
For they this Queen attended; in whose stead
Oblivion laid him down on Laura's hearse.
Hereat the hardest stones were seen to bleed,
And groans of buried ghosts the heavens did pierce :
Where Homer's spright did tremble all for grief,
And cursed the access of that celestial thief