What is Romance? Not an easy question to
answer. I suppose everyone has a different opinion.
The cynical poet, Lord Byron wrote:
Romances paint at full length people’s
wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages;
For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,
There’s nothing wrong with a connubial
kiss:
Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch’s
wife,
He would have written sonnets all his
life?
I prefer a poem written by William
Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle (17th Century)
There is no happy life
But in a wife;
The comforts are so sweet
When they do meet.
Two figures but one coin;
So they do join,
Only they not embrace,
We face to face.
Ah, you may sigh that is romance in
marriage.
But romance is much more. In the Middle
Ages it was a narrative in verse or prose about the adventures of chivalrous
knights and adoration of an unattainable lady, which had little in common with
real life. King Arthur and The Knights of the Round Table and the tale or
Lancelot and Guinevere have fascinated the romantic at heart for generations.
Then there are the songs of
troubadours, Henry VIII’s Greensleeves, and in more recent times one of my
favourites, Unchained Melody.