Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold
Lo! thy dread Empire, CHAOS! Is restor'd;
Thy hand, great Anarch! Lets the curtain fall
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
Light dies before thy uncreating word.
The ceremony of innocence is drowned
And Universal Darkness buries All.
mashed sauces
W.B. Yeats, "The Second Coming".
Alexander Pope, "The Dunciad, Book IV".
This mash-up was born in the writing of a paper on Pope and Yeats. If things indeed are falling apart, the first two lines strangely fell together like peas in a pod in my head. There is a certain amount of irony that I enjoy in this mash-up, particularly as it is the first for this blog; and that is that both Pope and Yeats were striving in their poetry against the very loss of "original" form and "crass" hacking that remix and mash-up culture finds such depth, fun and profundity in.
