13级英国文学史及选读练习（新）

北京交通大学海滨学院外语系2013级英国文学史及选读练习题

9. point of view 10. critical realism 11. blank verse 12. iambic pentameter 13. dramatic monologue 14. sonnet

15. protagonist, antagonist 16. satire

17. metaphysical poetry 18. Byronic hero 19. Oedipus Complex 20. Theater of the Absurd

III. Match the following works with their authors:

1. William Golding A. The Waste Land 2. Francis Bacon B. “Queen Mab” 3. James Joyce C. Paradise Regained 4. Charles Dickens D. Jude the Obscure 5. Percy B. Shelley E, The Dubliners 6. Samuel Johnson F. Lord of the Flies 7. Oscar Wilde G. The Newcomes 8. E. M. Foster H. Novum Orgα num 9. T. S. Eliot I. A Passage to India 10. Virginia Woof J. Agnes Grey

11. Matthew Arnold K. “To His Coy Mistress” 12. John Milton L. Lives of English Poets 13. Thomas Hardy M. Hard Times 14. George Eliot N. To the Lighthouse 15. Robert Browning O. The Importance of Being Earnest 16. William M. Thackeray P. Culture and Anarchy 17. Laurence Stern Q. The Rape of the Lock 18. Anne Bronte R. Silas Marner 19. Andrew Marvel S. Men and Women

20. Alexander Pope T. A Sentimental Journey through France and Italy 21. Walter Scott U. 1984

22. Alfred Tennyson V. The Forsyte Saga 23. W. E. B. Yeats W. Waverly 24. George Bernard Shaw X. Pygmalion

25. John Galsworthy Y. Idylls of the King 26. George Orwell Z. The Second Coming

IV. Works for critical appreciation and short-answer questions:

1.

Shakespeare’s sonnet 18 and Hamlet (the soliloquy of Hamlet)

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北京交通大学海滨学院外语系2013级英国文学史及选读练习题

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

Francis Bacon’s Of Studies

John Donne’s A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning John Milton”s Paradise Lost Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe

Thomas Gray’s Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard William Blake’s The Tyger and The Chimney Sweeper Robert Burns’ A Red, Red Rose Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice

10. Shelley’s Ode the west Wind 11. Keats’ Ode on a Grecian Urn 12. Byron’s She Walks in Beauty

13. Elizabeth Barrette Browning’s How to I Love Thee 14. Yeats’ poem The Second Coming 15. E. M. Forster’s A Passage to India 16. Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles 17. D. H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers

18. T.S.Eliot and “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

V. For each of the quotations listed below give the name of the author and the title of the work from which it is taken and then briefly interpret it:

1. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of may, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

2. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

3 Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright

In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

4. That’s my Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call

That piece of wonder now: Fra Pandolf’s hands Worked busily a day, and there she stands.

5. I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

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北京交通大学海滨学院外语系2013级英国文学史及选读练习题

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

6. Her narrative ended; even its re-assertions and secondary explanations were done. Tess's

voice throughout had hardly risen higher than its opening tone; there had been no exculpatory phrase of any kind, and she had not wept.

But the complexion even of external things seemed to suffer transmutation as her announcement progressed. The fire in the grate looked impish - demoniacally funny, as if it did not care in the least about her strait. The fender grinned idly, as if it too did not care. The light from the water-bottle was merely engaged in a chromatic problem. All material objects around announced their irresponsibility with terrible iteration. And yet nothing had changed since the moments when he had been kissing her; or rather, nothing in the substance of things. But the essence of things had changed.

7. A book lay spread on the sill before her, and the scarcely perceptible wind fluttered its

leaves at intervals. I believe Linton had laid it there: for she never endeavoured to divert herself with reading, or occupation of any kind, and he would spend many an hour in trying to entice her attention to some subject which had formerly been her amusement. She was conscious of his aim, and in her better moods endured his efforts placidly, only showing their uselessness by now and then suppressing a wearied sigh, and checking him at last with the saddest of smiles and kisses. At other times, she would turn petulantly away, and hide her face in her hands, or even push him off angrily; and then he took care to let her alone, for he was certain of doing no good.

8. The afternoon came on wet and somewhat misty: as it waned into dusk, I gegan to feel that

we were getting very far indeed from Gateshead: we ceased to pass through towns; the country changed, great grey hills heaved up aound the horizon: as twilight deepened, we descended a valley, dark with wood, and long after night had overclouded the prospect, I heard a wild wind rushing amongst trees.

Lulled by the sound, I at last dropped asleep; I had not long slumbered when the sudden cessation of motion awoke me; the coach- door was open, and a person like a servant was standing at it: I saw her face and dress by the light of the lamps.

9. It was towards the close of his first term in the college when he was in number six. His

sensitive nature was still smarting under the lashes of an undivined and squalid way of life. His soul was still disquieted and cast down by the dull phenomenon of Dublin. He had emerged from a two years' spell of revery to find himself in the midst of a new scene, every event and figure of which affected him intimately, disheartened him or allured and, whether alluring or disheartening, filled him always with unrest and bitter thoughts. All the leisure which his school life left him was passed in the company of subversive writers whose jibes and violence of speech set up a ferment in his brain before they passed out of it into his crude writings. The essay was for him the chief labour of his week and every Tuesday, as he marched from

home to the school, he read his fate in the incidents of the way, pitting himself against some figure ahead of him and quickening his pace to outstrip it before a certain goal was reached or planting his steps scrupulously in the spaces of the patchwork of the pathway and telling

himself that he would be first and not first in the weekly essay.

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北京交通大学海滨学院外语系2013级英国文学史及选读练习题

10. What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of

the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was) solemn, feeling as she did, standing there at the open window, that something awful was about to happen; looking at the flowers, at the trees with the smoke winding off them and the rooks rising, falling; standing and looking until Peter Walsh said, “Musing among the vegetables?”— was that it?—“I prefer men to cauliflowers”— was that it? He must have said it at breakfast one morning when she had gone out on to the terrace — Peter Walsh. He would be back from India one of these days, June or July, she forgot which, for his letters were awfully dull; it was his sayings one remembered; his eyes, his pocket-knife, his smile, his grumpiness and, when millions of things had utterly vanished — how strange it was!— a few sayings like this about cabbages. (From Mrs Dalloway)

8. What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little

squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, stiller than this of course, the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet (for a girl of eighteen as she then was) solemn, feeling as she did, standing there at the open window, that something awful was about to happen; looking at the flowers, at the trees with the smoke winding off them and the rooks rising, falling; standing and looking until Peter

Walsh said, “Musing among the vegetables?”— was that it?—“I prefer men to cauliflowers”— was that it? He must have said it at breakfast one morning when she had gone out on to the terrace — Peter Walsh. He would be back from India one of these days, June or July, she

forgot which, for his letters were awfully dull; it was his sayings one remembered; his eyes, his pocket-knife, his smile, his grumpiness and, when millions of things had utterly vanished — how strange it was!— a few sayings like this about cabbages.

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