Chatterton does trills

Samples Chatterton verse. Chatterton wrote political letters, pastoral dialogues, lyrics, operas and satires, both in prose and verse. Link to his Internet Archive.

ad a collection of a selection of Chatterton poems way back, but I never tracked down his collected works. Till now.

Chatterton wrote political letters, pastoral dialogues, lyrics, operas and satires, both in prose and verse. He is especially famous for a conceived romance of Thomas Rowley, an imaginary monk of the 15th century, which is written in an alteration of middle English, for which he also wrote glossaries, and forged it for a time as real.

One of the reasons why Chatterton is still re-engaged with is his wonderful explorations into language.

Chatterton on Internet Archive

Finding the complete works online, and reading before sleep, I discovered with great happiness, that he does serious trills. He lets them run till come to peaks…

His poetry is clever, brazenly studious, both a sudden grace of momentous beauty and sunk as a punk into fulsome disgust —

Keats wrote a poem about him:

O Chatterton… From thy fair name and waters it with tears…

His beauty embalmed as a forever dying Swan. Widowed mum, came from two cents above poverty…

Chatterton created mythic-like names like Narva and Mored. Personally, gotta wonder if JRR Tolkein read the Chatterton?

A Burletta called Revenge

This is from A Burletta called Revenge — Burletta is term for brief comic opera, coming out of eighteenth-century Italy. In it he is dramatizing recitations, as between Jupiter, Bacchus, Cupid and Juno - And a “char” he calls Air. Its set out as an alternation of stanzas between Air and Recitatives. He mostly does in stacks of couplets. But his Air also does Trills….

Line 21:
Air

Sighing,
Dying,
Lying,
Frying;
In the furnace of desire;

Line 80

Air

Drinking, swearing,
Roaring, tearing,
Wrenching, roving everywhere;
Whilst I
At home must lie,
Sighing, dreaming,
Grasping nothing but the air.

Line 90

Air

Fury, cease,
Give me peace,
Still your racket,
Or your jacket
I'll be drubbing,
For your snubbing;
  By the gods, you shall knock under.
Must you ever
Thus endeavor,
Rumbling,
Grumbling,
Rowling,
Growling,
  To outsound the noisy thunder?

Line 254 Just One More

Air changes

A pox o' your lasses !
A shot of my glasses
Your arrow surpasses;
  Will draw in your team;
Whilst thus I am drinking,
My misery sinking,
The cannikin clinking,
I'm lost to all thinking,
  And care is a dream.

Cannikin: small can or drinking cup, small wooden bucket.