The Man on Business From Porlock

THE MAN FROM PORLOCK

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, English poet and dope head used to quaff himself to sleep with vast amounts of laudanum, a tincture of opium in brandy. The account I've read said this had been prescribed to him 'in consequence of a slight indisposition'.
He'd been reading `Purchas's Pilgrimage' - `Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built and a stately garden thereunto; and thus ten miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall.' The upshot was Sam falls into a profound state of hallucination and when he wakes up he pens some of the greatest lines of English Literature...
But then, while in mid flow, he was called out on business by a man from Porlock, who detained him over an hour in conversation. By the time he returns the vision is all but gone!
Has there been a man from Porlock in your life? There have certainly been a few in mine!
Anyway... this is what he interrupted .

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! That deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! As holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething.

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing
A mighty fountain was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like resounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in the air,
That sunny dome! Those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there.
And all should cry, Beware, Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of paradise.

KUBLA KHAN
Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834
My own theory was the businessman from Porlock was the person from
whom he got his stash, that he was a dope head himself, and that they spent
the time talking deliriously about parallel universes and bloody Nostradamus.

THE MAN FROM PORLOCK Samuel Taylor Coleridge, English poet and dope head used to quaff himself to sleep with vast amounts of laudanum, a tincture of opium in brandy. The account I've read said this had been prescribed to him 'in consequence of a slight indisposition'. He'd been reading `Purchas's Pilgrimage' - `Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace to be built and a stately garden thereunto; and thus ten miles of fertile ground were inclosed with a wall.' The upshot was Sam falls into a profound state of hallucination and when he wakes up he pens some of the greatest lines of English Literature... But then, while in mid flow, he was called out on business by a man from Porlock, who detained him over an hour in conversation. By the time he returns the vision is all but gone! Has there been a man from Porlock in your life? There have certainly been a few in mine! Anyway... this is what he interrupted .
	In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh! That deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! As holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething. As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing A mighty fountain was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst Huge fragments vaulted like resounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in the air, That sunny dome! Those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there. And all should cry, Beware, Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of paradise. KUBLA KHAN Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834
My own theory was the businessman from Porlock was the person from whom he got his stash, that he was a dope head himself, and that they spent the time talking deliriously about parallel universes and bloody Nostradamus.