Atalanta in Literature

 

nLittle Women by Louisa May Alcott  Chapter 14
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    No one was in sight, the smooth road sloped invitingly before her, and finding the temptation irresistible, Jo darted away, soon leaving hat and comb behind her and scattering hairpins as she ran. Laurie reached the goal first and was quite satisfied with the success of his treatment, for his Atalanta came panting up with flying hair, bright eyes, ruddy cheeks, and no signs of dissatisfaction in her face.

 
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nThe Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer --Knight’s Tale
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    And on the wall, along a little more, Was Atalanta hunting the wild boar, And Meleager, and many another too, And him with care and woe Diana slew.

 

nThe Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde – Chapter 11

 

n     Grifonetto Baglioni, who slew Astorre with his bride, and Simonetto with his page, and whose comeliness was such that, as he lay dying in the yellow piazza of Perugia, those who had hated him could not choose but weep, and Atalanta, who had cursed him, blessed him.
 

 

Poetry

ATALANTA IN CAMDEN-TOWN

By Lewis Carroll





Ay, 'twas here, on this spot,

In that summer of yore,

Atalanta did not

Vote my presence a bore,

Nor reply to my tenderest talk "She had

heard all that nonsense before."



She'd the brooch I had bought

And the necklace and sash on,

And her heart, as I thought,

Was alive to my passion;

And she'd done up her hair in the style that

the Empress had brought into fashion.



I had been to the play

With my pearl of a Peri -

But, for all I could say,

She declared she was weary,

That "the place was so crowded and hot, and

she couldn't abide that Dundreary."



Then I thought "Lucky boy!

'Tis for YOU that she whimpers!"

And I noted with joy

Those sensational simpers:

And I said "This is scrumptious!"--a

phrase I had learned from the Devonshire shrimpers.



And I vowed "'Twill be said

I'm a fortunate fellow,

When the breakfast is spread,

When the topers are mellow,

When the foam of the bride-cake is white,

and the fierce orange-blossoms are yellow!"



O that languishing yawn!

O those eloquent eyes!

I was drunk with the dawn

Of a splendid surmise -

I was stung by a look, I was slain by a tear,

by a tempest of sighs.



Then I whispered "I see

The sweet secret thou keepest.

And the yearning for ME

That thou wistfully weepest!

And the question is 'License or Banns?',

though undoubtedly Banns are the cheapest."



"Be my Hero," said I,

"And let ME be Leander!"

But I lost her reply -

Something ending with "gander" -

For the omnibus rattled so loud that no

mortal could quite understand her.