Sunday, 7 December 2014


12. YEAR 2012
Attempt FOUR questions. All questions carry equal marks. 
1. "Poetry is something more philosophic and of graver importance than history, since its statements are of the nature of universals". Estimate the relative importance of poetry and philosophy in the light of the above statement.
2. How does modern tragedy encounter the issues of order and accident?
3. Sum up the contribution of Roland Barthes and Jacque Lacan to the development of modern critical trends.
4. Why does T.S. Eliot use the analogy of the catalyst for explaining the role of the poetic mind in the act of creation? How appropriate is this comparison in your own view?
5. Does Philip Sidney present a plausible critical picture of the contemporary British theatre? What are his chief observations in this regard?
6. "By a change of dramatic view point, we have to look not only at the isolated experience of the martyr, but at the social process of his martyrdom". How does the statement point out the departure of Brecht from the classical notion of tragic hero and tragic experience?
7. Critically examine any ONE of the following:
"MISERRUMUS,' and neither name nor date,
Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone,
Nought but that word assigned to the unknown,
That solitary word-to-separate
From all, and cast a cloud around the fate
Of him who lies beneath. Most wretched one,
'Who' chose his epitaph?--- Himself alone
Could thus have dared the grave to agitate,
And claim, among the dead, this awful crown;
"Nor doubt that He marked also for his own
Close to these cloistral steps a burial place,
The every foot might fall with heavier tread,
Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass
Softly! To save the contrite, Jesus bled
(William Wordsworth) 
(ii) BRIGHT star! Would I were steadfast as thou art ---
Not in love splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priest-like task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors ---
No --- yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever --- or else swoon to death.
(John Keats) 

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