Art of Poetry

The Art Poetry m n m

HUGH KENNER University of California at Santa Barbara

Holt, Rinehart & Winston NEW YORK, CFIICAGO, SAN FRANCISCO, TORONTO

The Art Poetry JUUUUL HUGH KENNER University of California at Santa Barbara

Holt, Rinehart & Winston NEW YORK, CHICAGO, SAN FRANCISCO, TORONTO

June 1966

SBN 0 3 - 0 0 8 8 4 0 - 2 Copyright @ 1959 by H u g h Kenner Printed in the United States of America All rights reserved Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-9750 90123

45

19181716151413121110

Credits Permission to reprint from the works of the authors and translators listed below has been given as indicated:

w.

"Fish in the Unruffled Lakes" and "Musee des Beaux Arts" from T h e Collected Poetry of W. H. Auden. Copyright, 1 9 3 7 , 1 9 4 0 , by Wystan Hugh Auden. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc., and Faber and Faber, Limited. HILAIRE BELLOC. "The Statue" from Sonnets and Verse, Sheed and U'ard, Incorporated, 1938. Reprinted by permission of A. D. Peters, agents for the Estate of Hilaire Belloc. LAURENCE BINYON. T h e extract from Dante's "Inferno" is reprinted by permission of T h e Society of Authors, Mrs. Cicely Binyon, and Alacmillan & Co., Ltd., publishers of Laurence Binyon's Translation into English Verse of Dante's Divine Comedy. BASIL BUNTING. "Ode" and "Vestiges" from Poems: 1 9 5 0 . Reprinted by permission of the author. ROY CAMPBELL. "On Some South African Novelists" from T h e Collected Poems of Roy Campbell, T h e Bodley Head, London, 1949. Reprinted by permission of T h e Bodley Head. FRANK O. COPLEY. "Vivamus, hlea Lesbia . from Frank 0. Copley's translation, Catullus-The Complete Poetry, copyright, 1 9 5 7 , by T h e University of hIichigan Press. E. E. C U M M I N G S . "neither awake" and "ygUDuh" from Poems 1 9 2 3 - 1 9 5 4 , Harcourt. Brace and Company. Copyright @ 1 9 4 4 , 1 9 5 0 , by E. E. Cummings. Reprinted by permission of Brandt & Brandt on behalf the author. WALTER DE LA M A R E . "The Ghost" is reprinted by permission of T h e Literary Trustees of Walter de la Mare and T h e Society of Authors as their representative. EMILY DICKINSON. "AS Imperceptibly . as Grief" and "After a Hundred Years" from Poems, 1 9 3 4 . Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown & Company. RONALD DUNCAN. "A Short History of Texas" and "This song's to a girl . ." from T h e Mongrel, Faber and Faber, Limited. Reprinted by permission of David Higham Associates, Ltd., on behalf the author. T. s . ELIOT. "Cape Ann," "Prelude I," "Fragment of an Agon," "Journey of the Magi," "Triumphal March," and two extracts from "The Waste Land" from H . AUDEN.

. ."

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Collected Poems 1 9 0 9 - 1 9 3 5 Copyright, 1 9 3 6 , by Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc., and Faber and Faber, Limited. This permission also applies to four brief extracts from T. S. Eliot's Selected Essays. ROBERT FROST. Wothing Gold Can Stay" and "The Witch of Coos" from New Hampshire. Copyright, 1 9 2 3 , by Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc. Copyright, 1 9 5 1 , by Robert Frost. Reprinted by permission of Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc. ROBERT GRAVES. "Welsh Incident" from Collected Poems, @ 1 9 5 5 by Robert Graves, ~ u b l i s h e dby Doubleday & Co., Inc., and Cassell & Co., Ltd. Reprinted by permission of A. P. Watt & Son on behalf the author. THOMAS HARDY. "The Self-Unseeing" from T h e Collected Poems of Thomas Hardy. Reprinted by permission of T h e hlacmillan Company, New York, the Trustees of the Hardy Estate, hlacnlillan & Co., Ltd., L.ondon, and T h e h,lacmillan Company of Canada, Limited. H. D. "Never More Will the IX'ind" from H. D.-Selected Poems, 1 9 5 7 . Reprinted by permission of Grove Press, Inc. GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS. "Pied Beauty" from Poems. Reprinted by permission of Oxford University Press, London. A. E. HOUSMAN. "Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries," "With Rue h,ly Heart Is Laden," and "Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass" from T h e Collected Poems of A. E. Housman. Copyright, 1 9 4 0 , by Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc., T h e Society of Authors as the literary representatives of the Trustees of the Estate of the late A. E. Housman, and Messrs. Jonathan Cape, Ltd., publishers of A. E. Housman's Collected Poems. T ~ V I N GLAYTON. "Cain" from A Laughter in the Mind. Copyright, 1 9 5 8 , by Irving Layton. Published by Jonathan Williams. "Golfers" from T h e Blue Propeller. Copyright by Irving Layton. Published by Contact Press, 1 9 5 5 . Reprinted by permission of the author. WYNDHAM LEWIS. Extract from "The Song of the Militant Romance" is reprinted by permission of Alethuen & Co., Ltd., and Rlrs. Wyndham Lewis. ROBERT LOWELL. "hlr. Edwards ancl the Spider" from Lord Weary's Castle. Copyright, 1 9 4 4 , 1 9 4 6 , by Robert Lowell. Reprinted by permission of Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc. ARCHIBALD M A C LEISH. "Immortal Helix" and "You, Andrew hlarvell" from Collected Poems, 1 9 1 7 - 1 9 5 2 . Reprinted by permission of Houghton hlifflin Company. MARIANNE MOORE. "The Swan and the Cook" from hlarianne Moore's translation of T h e Fables of La Fontaine. Copyright, 1 9 5 4 , by Marianne Moore. Used by permission of bliss Moore and T h e Viking Press, Inc. "Silence," "A Grave," two stanzas from "Bird-Witted," "England," and "In the Days of Prismatic Colour" from Collected Poems. Copyright, 1 9 5 1 , by Marianne Moore. Reprinted by permission of T h e h~lacmillanCompany. EZRA POUND. TWO extracts from "Homage to Sextus Propertius," "Prayer for His Lady's Life," "There Diecl a Myriad" from "EIugh Selwyn Mauberley," all from Personae of Ezra Pound. Copyright, 1 9 2 6 , 1 9 5 2 , by Ezra Pound. "Canto XIII," and extracts from "Canto XVII," "Canto XXV," and "Canto LXXXI" from T h e Cantos of Ezra Pound. Copyright, 1 9 3 4 , 1 9 3 7 , 1 9 4 0 , 1948, by Ezra Pound. Reprinted by permission of New Directions.

"Epistle to a Patron" from Poems is reprinted by permission 01' Fabrr and Faber, Limited. ELI SIEGEL. "Poem on Lagoons" and "The Dark That Was Is Here" from Hoz Afternoons Have Been in Montana: Poems. Copyright, 1 9 5 3 , 1 9 5 4 , 1 9 5 7 , by Eli Siegel. Reprinted by permission of Definition Press. GERTRUDE STEIN. "A Patriotic Leading" from Useful Knowledge. Reprinted by permission of Mr. Donald Gallup, literary executor of the Estate of Gertrude Stein, and Miss Alice B. Toklas. JAMES STEPHENS. "The Rivals" from Collected Poems. Copyright, 1 9 2 6 , by The Macmillan Company. Reprinted by permission of The Macmillan Company, New York, Mrs. J. Stephens, Macmillan & GI.,Ltd., London, and The Macmillan Company of Canada, Limited. WALLACE STEVENS. "Dance of the Macabre Mice" and "A Postcard from the Volcano" from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens. Copyright. 1 9 3 5 , 1 9 3 6 , 1 9 5 4 , by Wallace Stevens. Reprinted by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. DYLAN THOMAS. "Ears in the Turrets Hear" and "Fern Hill" from Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas. Copyright, 1 9 5 2 , by Dylan Thomas. Reprinted by permission of New Directions and J. M. Dent & Sons, Limited. CHARLES TOMLINSON. "The Crane" and "Paring the Apple" from Seeing Is Believing. Copyright, 1 9 5 8 , by Charles Tomlinson. Reprinted by permission of McDowell, Obolensky, Inc. "Through Binoculars" from The Necklace, The Fantasy Press, 1 9 5 5 . Reprinted by permission of the author. WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS. "Spring and All" and "Spring Strains" from The Collected Earlier Poems. Copyright, 1 9 3 8 , 1 9 5 1 , by William Carlos Williams. "The Dance" from The Collected Later Poems. Copyright, 1 9 4 4 , 1 9 4 8 , 1950, by William Carlos Williams. "Without Invention," "How the Money's Made," and "The Descent" from Paterson, Books I1 and IV. Copyright, 1 9 4 6 , 1 9 ~ 8 1 9 4 9 , 1 9 5 1 , by W . C. Williams. Reprinted by permission of New Directions. wrr I IAM BUTLER YEATS. "For Anne Gregory," "I Am of Ireland," "Mem," "Ancestral Houses," and "Byzantium" from The Collected Poems of W . B. Yeats. Copyright, 1 9 0 3 , by W . B. Yeats; 1956, by The Macmillan Company. Song "A Woman's Beauty" from T h e Only lealousy of Emer in Collected IJlays of W . B. Yeats. Copyright, 1 9 3 4 , 1 9 5 2 , by The Macmillan Company. Reprinted by permission of The h,Zacmillan Company, New York, Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London, A. P. Watt & Son, and Mrs. W. B. Yeats.

P. T. PRINCE.

,

I.

He said: Mes enfants, w h y does no one study the great Odes?

2.

Thg? Odes can exhilarate (lift the will).

3. Can give awareness (sharpen the vision, help you spot the bird). 4 . C a n teach dissociation.

5. Ca7z cause resentment (against evil). 6. Bri:zg you near to being useful to your father and mother, and go on serving your sovran. ,

7. Remember the names of many birds, animals, plants and trees. -THE

ANALECTS OF CONFUCIUS

translated by Ezra Pound

mnnnn Acknowledgments

Several friends and colleagues have been indirect contributors to this book, notably Professor H. M. McLuhan, who extricated from Aristotle the conception of the "plot" of a lyric poem, and first suggested to me the method of exposition by questioning; and Professor Donald Davie, from whose Purity of Diction ill E~zglishPoetry I have taken the definition of "diction" I use in Part One. Professors M a r l ~ i nhtudrick and Donald Pearce, colleagues of mine at Santa Barbara, have read earlier drafts, and many of their marginal comments were incorporated verbatim. I must also acknowledge valuable suggestions from Mr. John Reid of Toronto. But to anyone familiar with the literature of the twentieth century the most pervasive debt of all will need no identification. It was Ezra Pound who convinced writers and readers of two generations that as the love of a thing consists in the understanding of its perfections, so the most detailed knowledge of what it is that a poet has done will minister to the most enduring poetic pleasure.

rvlnrv~ Contents

Acknowledgments, viii Note to the Teacher, xvii Note to the Student, xix A Note on the Texts, xxi

PART ONE: USEFUL TERMS

TJseful Terms, I For Anne Gregory

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 2

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words, 5

Spring and All WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 5 T o Spring WILLIAM BLAKE, 6 Never Seek to Tell T h y Love WILLIAM BLAKE, 8 As Imperceptibly as Grief EMILY DICKINSON, 9 T o Night PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 9 From the Prologue to Pericles ASCRIBED TO WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I I

T h e Swan and the Cook MARIANNE MOORE, 1 2 From Homage to Sextus Propertius EZRA POUND, 1 3 Prayer for His Lady's Life EZRA POUND, 1 4

mnnnn Acknowledgments

Several friends and colleagues have been indirect contributors to this book, notably Professor H. R4. McLuhan, who extricated from Aristotle the conception of the "plot" of a lyric poem, and first suggested to me the method of exposition by questioning; and Professor Donald Davie, from whose Purity of Diction in English Poetry I have taken the definition of "diction" I use in Part One. Professors Marvin Mudrick and Donald Pearce, colleagues of mine at Santa Barbara, have read earlier drafts, and many of their marginal comments were incorporated verbatim. I must also acknowledge valuable suggestions from Mr. John Reid of Toronto. But to anyone familiar with the literature of the twentieth century the most pervasive debt of all will need no identification. It was Ezra Pound who convinced writers and readers of two generations that as the love of a thing consists in the understanding of its perfections, so the most detailed knowledge of what it is that a poet has done will minister to the most enduring poetic pleasure.

n_nnrvl

Contents

Acknowledgments, viii Note to the Teacher, xvii Note to the Student, xix A Note on the Texts, xxi

PART ONE: USEFUL TERMS

Useful Terms, I For Anne Gregory

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 2

Diction: 'the Family Alliances of the Words, 5

Spring and All WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 5 T o Spring WILLIAM BLAKE, 6 Never Seek to Tell T h y Love WILLIAM BLAKE, 8 As Imperceptibly as Grief EMILY DICKINSON, 9 T o Night PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 9 From the Prologue to Pericles ASCRIBED TO WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I I

T h e Swan and the Cook MARIANNE MOORE, 1 2 From Homage to Sextus Propertius EZRA POUND, 13 Prayer for His Lady's Life EZRA POUND, 1 4 ia

x

Contents

Contents

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation, 16

T h e Field of Waterloo GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON, 1 6 O n Fame GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON, I 7 Silence MARIANNE MOORE, I 8 "Neither Awake . . ." E. E. CUMMINGS, 18 "And If I Did What Then?" GEORGE GASCOIGNE, 19 Satan in Hell JOHN MILTON, 20 Satan and Michael GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON, 21 A Ballad upon a Wedding SIR JOHN SUCKLING, 22 Cain IRVING LAYTON, 26 T h e Sun Rising JOHN DONNE, 2 8 Prospice ROBERT BROWNING, 29 Pied Beauty GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS, 31 T. S. ELIOT, 31 Cape Ann Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries A. E. HOUSMAN, 33 "There Died a Myriad" EZRA POUND, 33 Golfers IRVING LAYTON, 33 "Tears, Idle Tears" ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 34 T h e Indian Serenade PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 35

60

Rhythm and Sound, 67

Song from T h e Beggar's Opera JOHN GAY, 68 From L'Allegro JOHN MILTON, 68 From I1 Penseroso JOHN MILTON, 69 Virtue GEORGE HERBERT, 69 From T h e Waste Land T. s. ELIOT, 70 From T h e Waste Land T. s. ELIOT, 72 T h e Dark That Was Is Here ELI SIEGEL, 74

. .

38

T h e Crane CHARLES TOMLINSON, 40 Poem on Lagoons ELI SIEGEL, 41 Nothing Gold Can Stay ROBERT FROST, 41 An Epistle to a Patron F. T. PRINCE, 42 From Macbeth WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 46 T h e Eagle ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 48 T h e Lover Compareth His State

HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY,

.. .

WILLIAMS,

STEVENS,

SIR THOMAS WYATT,

79

80

T h e Dark Angel MAXIMILIAN SLUMP, 8 1 T h e Rivals JAMES STEPHENS, 82 Fragment of an Agon T. s. ELIOT, 83 Journey of the Magi T. s. ELIOT, 89 Lament for the Makaris WILLIAM DUNBAR, 91 T h e Jumblies EDWARD LEAR, 94 I Am of Ireland WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 96

48

Her Father's Exhortation to Juliet WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 49 From Preludes T. s. ELIOT, 5 1 'Without Invention" WILLIAM CARLOS Vestiges BASIL BUNTING, 52 London WILLIAM BLAKE, 53 Dance of the Macabre Mice WALLACE Spring WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 55 Winter WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 56

ANDREW MARVELL,

Mr. Edwards and the Spider ROBERT LOWELL, 62 T h e Funeral JOHN DONNE, 63 T h e Relique JOHN DONNE, 64 Song from a Play WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 65

T h e Expiration JOHN DONNE, 78 T h e Lover for Shamefastness . Complaint of a Lover Rebuked

She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways

SIR THOMAS WYATT,

Song-The Owl ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 56 Shakespeare MAT~HEW ARNOLD, 57 Ears in the Turrets Hear DYLAN THOMAS, 58 A Grave MARIANNE MOORE, 59 A Dialogue between the Soul and Body

Meter, 75

The Image: What the Words Actually Name, 37

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH,

xi

51

54

Song and Sonority, 98

From T h e Lotus Eaters ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, gg A Ballad of Burdens ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE, gg Follow Your Saint THOMAS CAMPION, 102 T o the Rose ROBERT HERRICK, 103 Song EDMUND WALLER, 104

xii

Contents

Contents

"Rose-Cheek'd Laura, Come" THOMAS CAMPION, I 0 4 "I Saw My Lady WeepeU ANONYMOUS, 106 A Song THOMAS CAREW, 107 T h e Rose of Love EDMUND SPENSER, 107 Violets ROBERT HERRICK, I 08 Lament GEOFFREY CHAUCER, I 09 T o Helen EDGAR ALLAN POE, I 10 From T h e Idylls of the King ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, From An Essay on Criticism ALEXANDER POPE, I 13 From Bird-Witted MARIANNE MOORE, I I 5 O n the Late Massacre in Piedmont JOHN MILTON, I 16 "At the Round Earth's Imagined Corners Blow" JOHN DONNE, I

17

T h e Lover Complayneth the Unkindness of His Love SIR THOMAS WYATT,

I I8

Ode BASIL BUNTING, 120 T h e Lily and the Rose ANONYMOUS, 121 T o the Memory of Mr. Oldham JOHN DRYDEN,

Sir Patrick Spence ANONYMOUS, 124 T h e Demon Lover ANONYMOUS, I 26 Lucy Gray; or, Solitude WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 129 "A Slumber Did R l y Spirit Seal" W I L L I A M WORDSWORTH, I 3 I

ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, I 32

Spring Strains WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 36 Paring the Apple CHARLES TOMLINSON, I 38 Ingrateful Beauty Threatened T H O ~ I A S CAREW, 138 From Homage to Sextus Propertius EZRA POUND, 139 England MARIANNE MOORE, I 41 Decay GEORGE HERBERT, I 42 A Postcard from the Volcano WALLACE STEVENS, 143

AURELIAN TOWNSHEND, I 58

Never Rlore Will the Wind. H. D., I 59 T h e Dance WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 59 Merciles Beaut6 GEOFFREY CHAUCER, 160 Song: Murdring Beautie THOMAS CAREW, 162

PART TWO: DISCRIMINATIONS

Discriminations, 165

Funeral Song WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 167 A Dirge in Cymbeline WILLIAM COLLINS, 168 Welsh Incident ROBERT GRAVES, 169 Through Binoculars CHARLES TOMLINSON, I 71 Life GEORGE HERBERT, I 7 I T h e Descent WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 72 Venice EZRA POUND, 174 Venice JOHN RUSKIN, 176 O n the Extinction of the Venetian Republic W I L L I A M WORDSWORTH, I 7 7

Plot and "Form," 144 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I 4 5 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

How the Money's Made WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 1 5 1 "Past Ruin'd Ilion" WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, I 52 O n the Death of Ianthe WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, 153 Dirce WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, I 54 T h e Statue HILAIRE BELLOC, I 54 lnvocation to Paradise Lost JOHN MILTON, I 54 "Come Down, 0 Maid" ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 156 T o a Lady W h o Did Sing Excellently

Presenting the Subject, 167

Plot: What Happens in the Poem, 133

Sonnet 60 Sonnet 73

Plot and Syntax, 150 I 12

LORD HERBERT O F CHERBURY, I 5 7

Narrative and Meaning, 124

Immortal Helix

A Renouncing of Love SIR THOMAS WYATT, 146 Astrophel and Stella, XXXI SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 147 Astro~heland Stella, VII SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 147 Astrophel and Stella, XV SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 148 Meru WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 149

A Dialogue betwixt Time and a Pilgrim 121

145

xiii

Canto XI11 EZRA POUND, 178 A Short History of Texas RONALD

DUNCAN,

181

xii

Contents

Contents

A Renouncing of Love SIR THOMAS WYATT, 146 Astrophel and Stella, XXXI SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 147 Astrophel and Stella, VII SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 147 Astrophel and Stella, XV SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 148

Laura, Come" THOMAS CAMPION, 104 "I Saw My Lady WeepeH ANONYMOUS, 106 A Song THOMAS CAREW, 107 The Rose of Love EDMUND SPENSER, 107 Violets ROBERT HERRICK, I 08 Lament GEOFFREY CHAUCER, I 09 "Rose-Cheek'd

To Helen EDGAR ALLAN POE, From The Idylls of the King From An Essay on Criticism

Meru

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON,

From Bird-Witted MARIANNE MOORE, I I 5 On the Late Massacre in Piedmont JOHN MILTON, "At the Round Earth's Imagined Corners Blow"

116

JOHN W N N E , I I 7

The Lover Complayneth the Unkindness of His Love SIR THOMAS WYATT, I I 8 Ode BASIL BUNTING, 120 The Lily and the Rose ANONYMOUS, 1 2 1 T o the Memory of Mr. Oldham JOHN DRYDEN, 1 2 1 Narrative and Meaning, 124

Sir P a t r i c k Spence ANONYMOUS, 1 2 4 The Demon Lover ANONYMOUS, 1 2 6 Lucy G r a y ; or, S o l i t u d e WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 129 "A Slumber Did M y Spirit Seal"

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS,

149

Plot and Syntax, 150

I Io

ALEXANDER POPE, I I 3

I 12

How the Money's Made WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 1 5 1 "Past Ruin'd Ilion" WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, I 52 On the Death of Ianthe WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, 153 Dirce WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, 154 The Statue HILAIRE BELLOC, 154 Invocation to Paradise Lost JOHN MILTON, I 54 "Come Down, 0 Maid" ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 156 To a Lady Who Did Sing Excellently LORD HERBERT OF CHERBURY, I 5 7

A Dialogue

betwixt

Time and a Pilgrim

I 58 Never hlore Will t h e Wind. H. D., 159 The Dance WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 59 Merciles B e a u t e GEOFFREY CHAUCER, 160 Song: Murdring Beautie THOMAS CAREW, 162 AURELIAN TOWNSHEND,

PART TWO: DISCRIMINATIONS

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, I 3 I

Immortal Helix

ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, I 32

Spring

Strains

WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 36

Paring the Apple CHARLES TOMLINSON, 138 THOMAS CAREW, 138 I n g r a t e f u l Beauty Threatened From Homage to Sextus P r o p e r t i u s EZRA POUND, 1 3 9 England MARIANNE MOORE, I 41 Decay GEORGE HERBERT, 142 A P o s t c a r d from the Volcano WALLACE STEVENS, I 4 3

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I 4 5 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

Funeral Song WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 167 A Dirge in Cymbeline WILLIAM COLLINS, 168 Welsh Incident ROBERT GRAVES, 169 Through Binoculars CHARLES TOMLINSON, I 71 Life

GEORGE HERBERT, I 71

The Descent Venice Venice On the

172 174 JOHN RUSKIN, I 76 E x t i n c t i o n of the Venetian Republic WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS,

EZRA POUND,

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, I 7 7

Plot and "Form," 144

Sonnet 60 Sonnet 73

Discriminations, 165 Presenting the Subject, 167

Plot: What Happens in the Poem, 133

I 45

xiii

Canto XI11 EZRA POUND, 178 A Short History of Texas RONALD

DUNCAN, 1 8 1

xiv

Contents

Contents

To My Inconstant Mistress

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment, 192 DANTE ALIGHIERI (trans. by L. BINYON), 192 Praise of Power CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE, 195 Ulysses ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, I 96 Mariana ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 198 The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church

Transience: Seven Poems, 250

Sonnet 33

ROBERT BROWNING, 201

A Palinode

204

"After a Hundred Years" EMILY DICKINSON, Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villers THOMAS

A Baby's Epitaph ALGERNON Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

250

EDMUND BOLTON, 251

Sic Vita HENRY KING, 252 Upon the Sudden Restraint. . . . SIR HENRY WOTTON, Fish in the Unruffled Lakes w. H. AUDEN, 253 Litany, in Time of Plague THOMAS NASHE, 254 Hey Nonny No! ANONYMOUS, 256

STEIN, 206

"ygLIDuh" E. E. CUMMINGS, 207 The Witch of Coos ROBERT FROST, 208 The Ghost WALTER DE LA MARE, 213 The Self-unseeing THOMAS HARDY, 213 "With Rue My Heart Is Laden" A. E. HOUSMAN, "Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass" A. E. HOUSMAN,

THOMAS CARBW, 244

Sonnet 87 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245 Sonnet 93 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245 Sonnet MARK ALEXANDER BOYD, 246 The Extasie JOHNDONNE, 247

The Death of Ulysses

Triumphal March T. s. ELIOT, A Patriotic Leading GERTRUDE

xv

253

214

Four Trances, 257

2I 4

21 5

From The Prelude WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 257 Fern Hill DYLAN THOMAS, 260 Ode to the West Wind PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, From The Song of the Militant Romance

CAREW, 215

CHARLES SWINBURNE, 216

BEN JONSON,218

262

WYNDHAM LEWIS, 264

Poise, 219

Simplex Munditiis BEN JONSON,219 Delight in Disorder ROBERT HERRICK, 220 In the Days of Prismatic Colour MARIANNE MusCe des Beaux Arts w. H. AUDEN, 222 The Exequy HENRY KING, 222 An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

Four Landscapes, 269

The Garden ANDREW MARVELL, 269 T o Autumn JOHNKEATS, 272 Summer Night ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON,

MOORE, 221

Ancestral Houses

THOMAS GRAY, 226

The Progress

of

Beauty

PART THREE: 'CRADITIONS

JONATHAN SWIPT, 230

Traditions, 279 Adam Lay Ibowndyn ANONYMOUS, 284 I Sing of a Mayden ANONYMOUS, 284 Carol RONALD DUNCAN, 285

Love and Time: Twelve Poems, 235

T o Celia

BEN JONSON,235

Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus THOMAS CAMPION, Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus CATULLUS, 236 "Vivamus, Mea Lesbia . . ." FRANK O. COPLEY, 238 T o His Coy Mistress ANDREW MARVELL, 239 Wha Is That at My Bower Door? ROBERT BURNS, 242 You, Andrew Marvell ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, 243

xiv

274

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 276

236

The Pastoral Tradition, 287

Roundelay

EDMUND SPENSER, 287

The Passionate Shepherd to His Love CHRISTOPHER MARLOWB, 289

Contents

Contents

T o My Inconstant Mistress

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment, 192

The Death of

THOMAS CARBW, 244

Sonnet 87 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245 Sonnet 93 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245 Sonnet MARK ALEXANDER BOYD, 246 The Extasie JOHNDONNE, 247

Lllysses

(trans. by L. BINYON), 192 Praise of Power CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE, 195 Ulysses ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, I 96 Mariana ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 198 The Bishop Orders His Tomb a t Saint Praxed's Church DANTE ALIGHIERI

Transience: Seven Poems, 250

Sonnet 33

ROBERT BROWNING, 201

A Palinode

Triumphal March T. s. ELIOT, 204 A Patriotic Leading GERTRUDE STEIN, 206 "ygUDuh E. E. CUMMINGS, 207 The Witch of Coos ROBERT FROST, 208 The Ghost WALTER DE LA MARE, 2 1 3 The Self-unseeing THOMAS HARDY, 213 "With Rue My Heart Is Laden" A. E. HOUSMAN, 214 "Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass" A. E. HOUSMAN, 214 "After a Hundred Years" EMILY DICKINSON, 2 I 5 Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villers THOMAS CAREW, 215 A Baby's Epitaph ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE, 216 Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. BEN JONSON,218

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE,

250

EDMUND BOLTON, 251

Sic Vita HENRY KING, 252 Upon the Sudden Restraint. . . . SIR HENRY WOTTON, Fish in the Unruffled Lakes w. H. AUDEN, 253 Litany, in Time of Plague THOMAS NASHE, 254 Hey Nonny No! ANONYMOUS, 256 Four Trances, 257

From The Prelude WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 257 Fern Hill DYLAN THOMAS, 260 Ode to the West Wind PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, From The Song of the Militant Romance WYNDHAM LEWIS, 264

Poise, 219

Simplex Munditiis BEN JONSON,219 Delight in Disorder ROBERT HERRICK, 220 In the Days of Prismatic Colour MARIANNE MusCe des Beaux Arts w. H. AUDEN, 222 The Exequy HENRY KING, 222 An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

Four Landscapes, 269

The Garden ANDREW MARVELL, 269 T o Autumn JOHNKEATS, 272 Summer Night ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON,

MOORE, 221

Ancestral Houses

THOMAS GRAY, 226

The Progress of Beauty

Traditions,

279

Adam Lay Ibowndyn ANONYMOUS, 284 I Sing of a Mayden ANONYMOUS, 284 Carol RONALD DUNCAN, 285

BEN JONSON,235

Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus THOMAS CAMPION, Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus CATULLUS, 236 "Vivamus, Mea Lesbia . . ." FRANK O. COPLEY, 238 T o His Coy Mistress ANDREW MARVELL, 239 Wha Is That at My Bower Door? ROBERT BURNS, 242 You, Andrew Marvell ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, 243

236

The Pastoral Tradition, 287

Roundelay

The

EDMUND SPENSER, 287

Passionate

274

WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 276

PART THREE: TRADITIONS

JONATHAN SWIPT, 230

Love and Time: Twelve Poems, 235

T o Celia

xv

Shepherd to His Love

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWB, 289

262

253

xvi

Contents

Lycidas JOHN MILTON,291 From T h e Shepherd's Week JOHNGAY,297 Ode to a Nightingale JOHN KEATS,298 T o Welcome in the Spring JOHN LYLY,301 "The Nightingale, as Soon as April Bringeth" SIR PHILIP SIDNEY,302 A Poet Develops, 304

T o the Dawn That It Hasten Not CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE, 304 From Windsor Forest ALEXANDER POPE, 306 308 From Cooper's Hill SIR JOHN DENHAM, Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady ALEXANDER POPE, 309 From T h e Dunciad ALEXANDER POPE, 3 I 3 Finale to T h e Dunciad ALEXANDER POPE, 31 5 From A Satire against Mankind JOHN WILMOT,EARL OF ROCHESTER, 318 Byzantium WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS,320 Variations on the Couplet, 323

323 Character of Shimei JOHN DRYDEN, Character of Og JOHN DRYDEN, 325 Character of the Scholar SAMUEL JOHNSON,326 327 Character of the Vicar GEORGE CRABBE, From Sordello ROBERT BROWNING, 330 331 Finale to Troilus and C r i s e ~ d e GEOFFREY CHAUCER, T h e Recreators EZRA POUND,335 Useful Books, 341 Subject Index, 345 Author, Title, and First Line Index, 347

nnnnn Note to the

Teacher

T h e editor of this book, and the ideal teacher to whom he hopes to be useful, need not agree on everything, but they will share two assumptions: ( I ) that such general notions as the student is going to acquire about poetry he should acquire from actual experience with poems, not from a pedagogical system; and consequently (2) that the poems he has experience with, even at the beginning, should be worth encountering for their own sake. Accordingly, the book leads the student in the usual way from simple to complex, but "simple" has been taken to mean "unmixed rather than "diluted." I n the poems on which demonstration hinges in Part One, some fundamental quality or principle is exhibited in action so markedly that it can be isolated for discussion without serious distortion. Such poems are not always easy; but the editor, being convinced that nobody ever disliked a work of art because it was too good, doubts the wisdom of urging students to admire something inherently uninteresting, or of marginal interest, because it is supposed to afford an easy beginning. T h e questions and comments of course do not exhaust the poems, and are not meant to. They are meant to arouse and direct curiosity. In many instances they can save classroom time by helping the student make fundamental perceptions in the course of his own reading of the poems. T h e aim of Part One is to get a useful terminology into circulation with the minimum of fuss. It contains a good many twentieth-century poems, mainly to postpone the complication presented by ~ e r i o dstyles. Most of Part Two consists of short groups of poems on similar themes, among which discriminations of various sorts may usefully be made. There is a xvii

xviii

Note to the Teacher

guideline of commentary which the teacher may ignore if he chooses. T h e aim of the class should not be to sort these poems into "good and "bad," but to develop some awareness of the differences of sensibility they manifest. In fact, it has been the editor's experience that a student who becomes concerned with "good" and "bad" is likely to suppose that this is the only discrimination he need make. As for Part Three, it provides materials for developing the rudiments of a chronological sense. The book as a whole has not been arranged chronologically because, since the nature of the art and its mutations in time are two different topics, it seems confusing to try to deal with them simultaneously. The fact that some of the best poems in the language, and some of the most familiar, appear quite late in the book need not deter the teacher from introducing them earlier if his sense of the class makes that seem advisable. While the book requires teaching, it seeks to place sufficient information at the disposal of the perceptive student to take him a long way on his own; and while a method of teaching is implicit in the book, the experienced teacher will be able to makehis own modifications without, it is hoped, finding that the book gets in his way. Much of the commentary has been kept sufficiently gnomic not to impede the teacher who wants to modify or dissent from it. There is even profit to be derived sometimes from arguing with it, though it has not been introduced to stimulate argument but to throw attention constantly back to the poems, where the answers to all the questions lie. As every teacher knows, enlightened discussion in the classroom is never misdirected so long as no one forgets that art does not exist to be argued about, but to be perceived and assimilated.

nsvvvl

Npte to the Student

A conscientious effort has been made to include in this book nothing that seems likely to waste your time. Nevertheless, you aren't expected to admire everything you find here. T h e book contains numerous imperfect poems, some period pieces, and a few specimens with which something has gone badly wrong. Y ~ U may sometimes be disturbed by the sparseness of annotation. An attempt has been made to explain everything that is (a) inaccessible and (b) necessary to the grasp of the poem. It is often surprising how much peripheral information you don't really need, though sometimes the only way to discover its unimportance is to acquire it. O n the other hand, the poet's art is in part the art of condensing; it is quite normal for a few lines to draw on a wide range of materials, and the need for occasional bits of research shouldn't be resented. Nor can the editor hope to forecast the limits of a given reader's vocabulary; it goes without saying that unless you really know what the words mean you can't grasp the poem; never shun the dictionary. T h e things one looks up to elucidate good poems are generally worth looking up anyway. Before long it may occur to you to wonder how one can tell whether a poem is worth bothering with or not. Alas, there is no magic recipe. T h e experienced reader knows when he is dealing with a fake, or with an imitation of something he has encountered before. Nobody has any criteria that aren't derived from reading poems: but "reading" means "engaging the mind with, and thoroughly understanding." Partial or misleading criteria, such as the familiar statement that good poetry "stirs the feelings" (omitting to note that it directs them), or "consists in beautiful and lofty thoughts expressed in elevated language," are also derived from reading poems, but too few poems or too few kinds of poems. The editor's opinions are fallible. So are yours and so are your teacher's. xix

xviii

Note to the Teacher

guideline of commentary which the teacher may ignore if he chooses. T h e aim of the class should not be to sort these poems into "good" and "bad," but to develop some awareness of the differences of sensibility they manifest. I n fact, it has been the editor's experience that a student who becomes concerned with "good and "bad" is likely to suppose that this is the only discrimination he need make. As for Part Three, it provides materials for developing the rudiments of a chronological sense. T h e book as a whole has not been arranged chronologically because, since the nature of the art and its mutations in time are two different topics, it seems confusing to try to deal with them simultaneously. The fact that some of the best poems in the language, and some of the most familiar, appear quite late in the book need not deter the teacher from introducing them earlier if his sense of the class makes that seem advisable. While the book requires teaching, it seeks to place sufficient information at the disposal of the perceptive student to take him a long way on his own; and while a method of teaching is implicit in the book, the experienced teacher will be able to make his own modifications without, it is hoped, finding that the book gets in his way. Much of the commentary has been kept sufficiently gnomic not to impede the teacher who wants to modify or dissent from it. There is even profit to be derived sometimes from arguing with it, though it has not been introduced to stimulate argument but to throw attention constantly back to the poems, where the answers to all the questions lie. As every teacher knows, enlightened discussion in the classroom is never misdirected so long as no one forgets that art does not exist to be argued about, but to be perceived and assimilated.

m n m m Note to the Student A conscientious effort has been made to include in this book nothing that seems likely to waste your time. Nevertheless, you aren't expected to admire everything you find here. T h e book contains numerous imperfect poems, some period pieces, and a few specimens with which something has gone badly wrong. You may sometimes be disturbed by the sparseness of annotation. An attempt has been made to explain everything that is (a) inaccessible and (b) necessary to the grasp of the poem. It is often surprising how much peripheral information you don't really need, though sometimes the only way to discover its unimportance is to acquire it. On the other hand, the poet's art is in part the art of condensing; it is quite normal for a few lines to draw on a wide range of materials, and the need for occasional bits of research shouldn't be resented. Nor can the editor hope to forecast the limits of a given reader's vocabulary; it goes without saying that unless you really know what the words mean you can't grasp the poem; never shun the dictionary. T h e things one looks up to elucidate good poems are generally worth looking up anyway. Before long it may occur to you to wonder how one can tell whether a poem is worth bothering with or not. Alas, there is no magic recipe. T h e experienced reader knows when he is dealing with a fake, or with an imitation of something he has encountered before. Nobody has any criteria that aren't derived from reading poems: but "reading" means "engaging the mind with, and thoroughly understanding." Partial or misleading criteria, such as the familiar statement that good poetry "stirs the feelings" (omitting to note that it directs them), or "consists in beautiful and lofty thoughts expressed in elevated language," are also derived from reading poems, but too few poems or too few kinds of poems. The editor's opinions are fallible. So are yours and so are your teacher's. xix

rvvlnn

A Note on the Gxts

A word about the texts. There seems little point in imposing editorial consistency on a compilation of specimens, or in attempting to conceal from the student the largely provisional relation that obtained between the spoken word and the printed page before poets began to write primarily for the printer. O n the other hand it is frivolous to trouble him with wanton vagaries of spelling when his attention is meant to be focussed on a structure of meaning. Hence a number of ad hoc decisions. Gray's Elegy has been given comma for comma according to the first complete edition for reasons that the commentary makes clear, but Shakespeare's Sonnets follow modernized texts. A number of poems come from the Oxford Book of Seventeenth Century Verse, in which certain period spellings are thinned out on principle, but Chaucer remains literatim in Middle English because any modernization is apt to impede his cadences. Poems meant to be sung are generally given as they were first printed; modern punctuation and spelling impart a misleading tightness. Occasionally a revised spelling has been substituted for a footnote: notably, I have incorporated Mr. John Hayward's elucidation of line 69 of Lycidns by adding the "e" at the end of "withe." Had my first duty been to provide texts for scholars I should have been more systematic, but a book for students of the poet's art has less schematized aims. T h e date given for each poem is meant to be more or less the date of writing. A small c (for circa) means that this date is an informed guess. When I have had no basis for a guess I have given the date of publication instead, clearly so labeled, and if publication was posthumous, as in the case of Wyatt's poems and most of Marvell's, the poet's life-span is given xxi

xxii

A Note on the Texts

as well. It seems pointless in a book of this kind to devise an apparatus for indicating relative degrees of certainty; sometimes, as in the case of Keats' Odes, the date of writing is known exactly; sometimes, on the principle that a poet is likely to make revisions until his poem is printed, I have simply equated the date of writing with the date of publication. Nothing more is claimed in many cases than a rough indication of the poem's age.

The Art of Poetry

PART

m

1

1

Useftll Terms

This section begins with a variety of poems, in the discussion of which we shall seek to clarifv the terms dictio~z,tone, and image. Subsequently we shall discuss r h y t h m and plot. These are not "elements of poetry" in the way that sodium and chlorine are elements of table salt. They are convenient terms for use in discussing poems. Human faces are not made out of lines, circles, and triangles, but these terms are nonetheless useful for describing one sort of face so as to distinguish it from another sort. T h e terms we are about to encounter have two main uses: I . They help us to observe more accurately what qualities in the words on the page are soliciting our attention, and so to find out what is

going o n i n the poem. 2. They direct our attention to matters concerning which competent poets exercise the greatest deliberation and judgment.

Some poems are easier to comprehend than others, but the very simplest bring into play all the perception, all the powers of discrimination at our command. There are uncomplicated ways of beginning, but there isn't an uncomplicated place to begin. An eminent specialist in literary study has remarked that it doesn't matter which leg of a table you make first. Unlike algebra, the subjcct doesn't present elements to be grasped in a certain order. Any pocm presupposes considerable experience in reading other poems. Hence you will be able to extend and deepen your 1

PART

1

Useftll Terms This section begins with a variety of poems, in the discussion of which we shall seek to clarifv the terms diction, tone, and inzage. Subsequently we shall discuss rhytjLm and plot. These are not "elements of poetry" in the way that sodium and chlorine are elements of table salt. They are convenient terms for use in discussing poems. Human faces are not made out of lines, circles, and triangles, but these terms are nonetheless useful for describing one sort of face so as to distinguish it from another sort. T h e terms we are about to encounter have two main uses: I . They help us to observe more accurately what qualities in the words on the page are soliciting our attention, and so to find out what is

going o n in the poem. 2. They direct our attention to matters concerning which competent poets exercise the greatest deliberation and judgment.

Some poems are easier to comprehend than others, but the very simplest bring into play all the perception, all the powers of discrimination at our command. There are uncomplicated ways of beginning, but there isn't an uncomplicated place to begin. An eminent specialist in literary study has remarked that it doesn't matter which leg of a table you make first. Unlike algebra, the subjcct doesn't present elements to be grasped in a certain order. Any poem presupposes considerable experience in reading other poems. Hence you will be able to extend and deepen your 1

2

Useful Terms

Useful Terms

comprehension of these first examples by returning to them when you have read more. FOR ANNE GREGORY

W i l l i a m Butler Yeats, 1930 'Never shall a young man, Thrown into despair By those great honey-coloured Ramparts at your ear Love you for yourself alone And not your ?ellow hair.' 'But I can get a hair-dye And set such colour there, Brown, or black, or carrot, That young men in despair May love me for myself alone And not my yellow hair.'

'I heard an old religious man But yesternight declare That he had found a text to prove That only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.' Questions

I. Since there are two speakers here, there has presumably been some previous conversation. What do you think was said just before the poem opens? 2. What phrase in the first stanza seizes the attention? Why? 3. Compare the phrases "those great honey-coloured ramparts at your ear" and "your yellow hair." How do they differ in the kind of importance they attach to their subject? What feelings does the more elaborate phrase imply? Awe? Admiration? Amusement? Some mixture of the three? Is the other phrase belittling, matter-of-fact, playful, or just serviceable? What can you tell about the feeling the speaker of the first stanza has for the girl? 4. W h o is usually thrown into despair by the presence of ramparts? What does this suggest about the prospect the girl presents to her lovers?

3

1s she content with this situation? Is she fully aware of its implications? 5. Is there any indication that she is flattered by the effect on young men of her formidable beauty? 6. What does "despair" mean in stanza 27 in stanza I ? 7. What is the effect of "carrot" in line g? Would it matter if "auburn" were substituted? 8. W e gather from stanza 2 that she now wants to be loved in a different way. Does she know any more about herself than that? Does "for myself alone" convey a precise and discernible meaning? (If you think so, try to say what it is.) Is her desire ridiculous? Is it understandable? g. Now consider that ramparts not only shut the besieger out but hem the besieged in. Is she aware of this fact? Has it something to do with the indifference of the young men to "herself alone"? 10. In stanza 3, "found" suggests a special search. What does this suggest about the importance of the problem her difficulty presents to wise men? Do you think this suggestion is wholeheartedly serious? 11. Consider the implications of "only God could love you for yourself alone." Are they wholly complimentary? Does the ~ h r a s e"my dear" alter these implications or merely divert her attention from them? 12.Does the speaker mean that the girl herself (as distinguished from the spectacle presented by her hair) is unlovable? aloof? elusive? nonexistent? or just inaccessible? (Consider that God is not only compassionate but also all-knowing.) 13. How does the speaker present this opinion to the girl? Bluntly? Tactfully? Slyly? Affectionately? 14. inside* the fact that he speaks twice in the poem. Does she misunderstand him the first time? Do you think he was then purposely avoiding the implications he brings forward in the last stanza? Why? 15. W h y do you think she takes no notice of the striking phrase he employs in his first speech? 16. H e calls her "my dear." Do you think his relation to her is like a lover's? a friend's? an elderly friend's? Do they talk intimately or formally? 17. Does the poem imply anything about the effect of beauty (and hence suitors) on the woman who possesses it? Is the girl vain? Try to imagine the tone in which she would have asked the initial question, before the poem started. 18. Does the poem imply that beauty and self-knowledge are incompatible, or merely that the girl is in some respects immature? 19.When you first read the poem, did you suppose that anything but a rather trivial conversation was being presented?

4

Useful Terms

T h e first hint of the presence of something unusual is the phrase about the great honey-coloured ramparts. T h e initial effect of this phrase -its hold on the attention-is secured by the unusualness of the word "ramparts" in this context. This is a phenomenon of diction. (The word "rampartsn would not be unusual in a passage about the siege of Acre. Unusualness is determined by context, not by the size of your vocabulary. If the words "heptode," "flyback," "raster" are strange to you, the reason is that you don't read technical books on television, where their appearance is quite normal. They should only excite remark by turning u p in an unusual context, say a love poem.) One then considers the meaning of the word "ramparts": and since its dictionary meaning doesn't normally fit hair, we say that it imports an image into the poem. (Image: the thing the word actually names. It isn't necessarily something to visualize.)

slnrvvl

Utctton: Y he Pamtly Alliances of the Words

Finally, the relation between girl and speaker in the third stanza brings u p the question of defining his tone. W e can now explore these three ideas one at a time. SPRING AND ALL

W i l l i a m Carlos Williams, c. 1922 /' By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast-a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen

patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vinesLifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approachesT h e y enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all

4

Useful Terms

T h e first hint of the presence of something unusual is the phrase about the great honey-coloured ramparts. T h e initial effect of this phrase -its hold on the attention-is secured by the unusualness of the word "ramparts" in this context. This is a phenomenon of diction. (The word "ramparts" would not be unusual in a passage about the siege of Acre. Unusualness is determined by context, not by the size of your vocabulary. If the words "heptode," "flyback," "raster" are strange to you, the reason is that you don't read technical books on television, where their appearance is quite normal. They should only excite remark by turning u p in an unusual context, say a love poem.) One then considers the meaning of the word "ramparts": and since its dictionary meaning doesn't normally fit hair, we say that it imports an image into the poem. (Image: the thing the word actually names. It isn't necessarily something to visualize.)

slnrvvl

Diction:

The Family

Alliances of the Words

Finally, the relation between girl and speaker in the third stanza brings u p the question of defining his tone. W e can now explore these three ideas one at a time. SPRING AND ALL

W i l l i a m Carlos Williams, c. 1922 /' By the road to the contagious hospital under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast-a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields brown with dried weeds, standing and fallen

patches of standing water the scattering of tall trees All along the road the reddish purplish, forked, upstanding, twiggy stuff of bushes and small trees with dead, brown leaves under them leafless vinesLifeless in appearance, sluggish dazed spring approachesT h e y enter the new world naked, cold, uncertain of all

6

Useful Terms Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words

save that they enter. All about them the cold, familiar windNow the grass, tomorrow the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf One by one objects are definedI t quickens: clarity, outline of leaf

2C

But now the stark dignity of entrance-Still, the profound change has come upon them : rooted, they grip down and begin to awaken

the entire vocabulary of the language but only from one area of it. This is analogous to the musician's choice of key, or to the painter's choice of colors for the palette he intends to use for a proposed picture. The reader quickly senses what area of the language is being used, and recognize. any departure from it-like the word "ramparts" in For Anne Gregoryas a special effect. A diction i s a selection of language, from which the words actually printed on the page hove in turn been selected.

4 few poets-notably Shakespeare-give the impression that any word in the language is capable of turning up at any moment. A diction of some sort is more usual. Its presence-or absence-is not necessarily a mark of inferiority. One is likely to suppose that one diction is more suited to poetry than another: for instance, the area of the language where words like "dew" and "moon" and "rose" are located. This supposition will not stand the test of experience.

TO SPRING

William Blake, pub. 1783

0 thou with dewy locks who lookest down Through the clear windows of the morning, turn Thine angel eyes upon our western isle, Which in full choir hails thy approach, 0 Spring!

Questions

Spring and All

The hills tell each other, and the listening Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned U p to thy bright pavilions: issue forth, And let thy holy feet visit our clime,

5

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

0 deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put Thy golden crown upon her languished head, Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.

7

I . What is the image in lines 16-18? Can you find any other images in the poem? 2. Lines 9-13 contrast two sorts of vegetation. Is this contrast reproduced in the quality of the words employed? Elucidate. 3. Where is the first verb in the poem? Tht! verb is normall? the active word. Is the language of this poem dull or quiescent until this verb occurs? Why? 4. Notice that the normal subject-verb-object construction of English seniences rests on the assumption that the action of the sentence possesses a name. W e can write "John threw the ball" because we have a name for the act of throwing. What activity is this poem about? Does it occur before one's eyes, or is it merely felt as a ~ o t e n t i a l i t ~What ? has this to do with the scarcity of verbs in the ~ o e m ?W h y are there more of them toward the end? W h y does the poet include lines 1-13 at all? 5. What difference would it make to the effect of line 8 if "the scattering" were changed to ((a cluster"? 6. In a hospital (see line I ) people fight for health. What has the first line to do with the rest of the poem? What other hospital event is implied in the poem? 7. If you try to put the substance of this poem into orderly sentences, what are you likely to lose? -

I5

List six words in each of these poems about spring which you would not expect to find in the other, no matter how far its author might prolong it. What you have been observing is a difference in diction. T h e two hundred or so words in a short poem are normally selected not from

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words Useful Terms

8

9

If you had not been told this, might the diction of To Spring lead you to suspect that it was written very early in the author's career?

Questions

To Spring AS IMPERCEPTIBLY AS GRIEF

What is Spring being compared to throughout the poem? 2. Does line 5 refer to anything that actually happens? 3. Why is the head in line 1 5 "languished"? 4. Does the effect of this poem depend on one's following the sense of the sentences in it, or can one get it from the atmosphere of individual words? Does the previous poem, Spring and All, work in the same way? Has Blake gained anything by writing explicit grammatical sentences? What? j. "Spring," unlike, for instance, the moon, is not something you can see. A landscape picture labeled "Spring" is simply a picture of some scenery where the phenomenon called "spring" has already occurred, or is in process of occurring. Bearing this in mind, try to explain the indirect approach these two poets have taken to their theme. Does one seem to you more successful than the other? Why? 6. Now try to explain the use to which each poet puts the diction he employs. I.

Emily Dickinson, c.

As imperceptibly as grief T h e Summer lapsed away,Too imperceptible, at last, T o seem like perfidy. A quietness distilled, As twilight long begun, Or Nature, spending with herself Sequestered afternoon. T h e dusk drew earlier in, T h e morning foreign shone,A courteous, yet harrowing grace, As guest who would be gone. And thus, without a wing, Or service of a keel, Our summer made her light escape Into the beautiful.

NEVER SEEK TO TELL THY LOVE

William Blake, c. I 793 Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fearsAh, she doth depart.

1866

15

Questions I . What sort of diction would the short lines and simple stanzas lead you to expect? 2. How often does the author surprise you? 3. What does the last line mean? Does it refer to a place, a state, or what? Are there other examples in the poem of abstractions treated with the offhand confidence with which one normally treats quite specific ideas like "New York" or "midnight"? 4. What difference would it make if lines 13-14 were omitted?

Soon as she was gone from me A traveller came by Silently, invisibly0, was no deny.

TO NIGHT

Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1821

Questions

Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave,

I . Locate the effect produced in this poem by a single word which seems to have come from outside its normal diction. 2. Blake wrote this poem some ten years after he published T o Spring.

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words Useful Terms

8

9

If you had not been told this, might the diction of To Spring lead you to suspect that it was written very early in the author's career?

Questions

T o Spring AS IMPERCEPTIBLY AS GRIEF

What is Spring being compared to throughout the 2. Does line 5 refer to anything that actually happens? 3. Why is the head in line I j "languished"? 4. Does the effect of this poem depend on one's following the sense of the sentences in it, or can one get it from the atmosphere of individual words? Does the previous poem, Spring and All, work in the same way? Has Blake gained anything by writing explicit grammatical sentences? What? 5. "Spring," unlike, for instance, the moon, is not something you can see. A landscape picture labeled "Spring" is simply a picture of some scenery where the heno omen on called ''spring1' has already occurred, or is in process of occurring. Bearing this in mind, try to explain the indirect approach these two poets have taken to their theme. Does one seem to you more successful than the other? Why? 6. Now try to explain the use to which each poet puts the diction he employs. I.

Emily Dickinson, c. I 866 As imperceptibly as grief T h e Summer lapsed away,Too imperceptible, at last, T o seem like perfidy. A quietness distilled, As twilight long begun, Or Nature, spending with herself Sequestered afternoon. T h e dusk drew earlier in, T h e morning foreign shone,A courteous, yet harrowing grace, As guest who would be gone. And thus, without a wing, Or service of a keel, Our summer made her light escape Into the beautiful.

NEVER SEEK TO TELL THY LOVE

William Blake, c. I 793 Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fearsAh, she doth depart.

Questions I . What sort of diction would the short lines and simple stanzas lead you to expect? 2. How often does the author surprise you? 3. What does the last line mean? Does it refer to a place, a state, or what? Are there other examples in the poem of abstractions treated with the offhand confidence with which one normally treats quite specific ideas like "New York" or "midnight"? 4. What difference would it make if lines I 3 - 1 4 were omitted?

Soon as she was gone from me

A traveller came by Silently, invisibly0 , was no deny. Questions I . Locate the effect produced in this poem by a single word which seems to have come from outside its normal diction. 2. Blake wrote this poem some ten years after he published To Spring.

'5

TO NIGHT

Percy Bysshe Shelley,

1821

Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave,

10

Useful Terms

Where all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear,Swift be thy flight! Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; Kiss her till she be wearied out, T h e n wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wandCome, long-sought! When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; W h e n light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee.

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words

11

3. With the exception of the words just listed, are there any words in this poem that you would expect to encounter only in poetry? In any case, is the diction of the poem a kind you would call "poetic"? Why? Only variety of some sort can justify a poem in going on for more than three lines. Though Shelley avoids variety of diction, he has recourse to variety of focus. Bj7 stanza 3 he has shifted our attention from the Spirit of Night to himself.

If you have ever tried writing verse yourself, you have probably had trouble with rhythm and rhyme, but the chances are that your diction was perfectly coherent. Each word you write suggests families of associated words from which to select the next one. Since it can be done by inattention, the maintenance of an unsullied diction is therefore one attribute of utter dullness. But not necessarily. I n a passage like the following, word after word presents itself as a fresh discovery, yet no word produces the witty or dramatic effect we associate with a rupture of diction:

From the Prologue to PERICLES

T h y brother Death came and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nesde near thy side? Wouldst thou me?-And I replied, No, not thee! Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soonSleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, beloved NightSwift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!

Ascribed to William Shakespeare, c. 1608 GOWER.

TOsing a song that old was sung From ashes ancient Gower is come, Assuming men's infirmities TOglad your ears and please your eyes. It hath been sung at festivals O n ember-eves and holy ales, And lords and ladies in their lives Have read it for restoratives. . . If you, born in these later times W h e n wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes, And that to hear an old man sing May to your wishes pleasure bring, I life would wish, and that I might Waste it for you like taper-light.

.

10

Questions

had turned u p in this poem, would it have I . If the word surprised you? the word "sequesteredq? the word "harrowing"? 1. W h y does Shelley use "thee," "thou," "thy," and "thine" instead of "you" and "your?

An eerie conception. T h e poet Gower had been dead for two hundred years when the play to which he acts as master of ceremonies was staged. Ember-eves were the festive nights before the three-day fasts called ember days. Holy ales were parties held to raise church funds.

12

Useful Terms

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words

THE SWAN AND THE COOK Marianne Moore, 1953

Of the miscellany I n a man's aviary, A swan swam, and a goose waddled: One a sublime sight that made the garden complete; Or so the owner thought; and one, a bird to eat. . One enhanced the flowers; one stayed near the house and puddled. They would ornament the moat simultaneously, Now and then side by side or were seen converging; At times merely drifting, again were submerging, Apparently looking for something illusory. One day the cook, who had had an extra drop, Took the swan for the goose, held it u p By the neck, would have cut its throat and had it simmering; But at the point of death it broke into song so ravishing, T h e astonished cook perceived That his dulled eyes had been deceived And said, 'What! make so sweet a singer into soup! Dear, dear; God forbid murder to which my hand could stoop. Close a throat whose uses are delectable!" So when the horseman is hovered by perils too dire to outleap, Sweet speech does no harm-none at all. (From the French of La Fontaine, I 62 I -I 695)

5

13

to keep their own company, like elite troops, and have generally been reserved for somewhat more formal situations than the staple AngloSaxon monosyllables. Their presence in the language provides the poet with a substantial ready-made diction from whose resources many kinds of effects can be drawn. T h e familiar social comedy of periphrasis encountering blunt speech ("A factual discrepancy? It's a lie!") has its counterpart in these two levels of English vocabulary. T h e conflict or intercourse between them is capable of endless adjustment and refinement : No, this my hand will rather T h e multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red. -Shakespeare, Macbeth, 11, i Shakespeare here puts two Latin words, chosen for their orotundity, amidst thirteen native ones.

From HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS Ezra Pound, 19I 7

Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her, There are enough women in hell, quite enough beautiful women, Iope, and Tyro, and Pasiphae, and the formal girls of Achaia, And out of Troad, and from the Campania, Death has his tooth in the lot, Avernus lusts for the lot of them, Beauty is not eternal, no man has perennial fortune, Slow foot, or swift foot, death delays but for a season.

20

Questions I . W h a t is the difference between "the miscellany in a man's aviary" and "the birds on a man's grounds"? 2. Does this poem conduct itself with elegance and precision? with mock formality? with seriousness and intimacy? with detachment? coldly, remotely? with good-humored familiarity? How do you know? 3 . If you retell the story in words of one syllable, what effects do you lose? gain? 4. Now t w to identify the prevailing diction of the poem, and find three places &here effecis are secured by departing from it.

"Perskphone" has four syllables, "Iope" has three. Persephone and Dis were the Queen and King of Avernus (the infernal regions). Look u p the other ladies and countries if you like, but they have an adequate effect simply as a list. Questions

T r y to distinguish the diction of line 6 from that of line 9. What is the effect of "formal" in line 4? 3. Does line 7 simply repeat line 6 in different words, or does it n ~ a k e its statement with a slightly different degree of gravity? Explain. I.

Some 40 per cent of the English vocabulary, by some estimates, is These words have tended derived from the Latin (often

5

2.

,

14

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words

Useful Terms

-might have been observed in the twentieth century instead of the fourteenth, and but for a few alterations of spelling, Chaucer's account doesn't date in the slightest, after nearly six hundred years. T h e Latin from which Pound paraphrased his Homage to Sextus Propertius is over two thousand years old. Since the poetic qualities we are studying now are the ones that are totally unaffected by the passage of time, no chronological order whatever has been observed in making the selections. It will be time enough when we come to Part 3 (page 279) to begin sorting out the poets into their centuries.

PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LlFE From Propertius, Elegiae, Lib. iii, 26 Ezra Pound, I g I I

Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus Ye might let one remain above with us. With you is Iope, with you the white-gleaming Tyro, With you is Europa and the shameless Pasiphae, And all the fair from Troy and all from Achaia, From the sundered realms, of Thebes and of aged Priamus; And all the maidens of Rome, as many as they were, They died and the greed of your flame consumes them.

15

10

Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand fair are gone down to Avernus, Ye might let one remain above with us. An earlier version, by the same translator, of the same Latin passage. (The reason for the title and the refrain is that the poem published in 191I was printed as an independent poem, whereas the later version of I 9 1 7 was used as part of a long poem.) Questions

I . Find four places where the great difference between the effects secured in the two versions arises from a difference in diction. 2. Which version draws its words from the wider area of the language? (Note that this has nothing to do with the length of the versions.) 3. Which requires the greater alertness on the part of a person trying to read it aloud effectively? 4. Which do you find the more interesting? Emily Dickinson (As Imperceptibly as Grief) sounds, after the passage of a century, considerably more "modern" than the Ezra Pound of 191 I , if not more so than the Pound of 1917. In the same way, chaucer's old man sitting up in bedT h e slakke skyn aboute his nekke shaketh Whil that he sang, so chaunteth he and craketh

14

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words

Useful Terms PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LlFE From Propertius, Elegiae, Lib. iii, 26 Ezra Pound, 19I I

Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus Ye might let one remain above with us. With you is Iope, with you the white-gleaming Tyro, With you is Europa and the shameless Pasiphae, And all the fair from Troy and all from Achaia, From the sundered realms, of Thebes and of aged Priamus; And all the maidens of Rome, as many as they were, They died and the greed of your flame consumes them.

5

10

Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness. So many thousand fair are gone down to Avernus, Ye might let one remain above with us. An earlier version, by the same translator, of the same Latin passage. (The reason for the title and the refrain is that the poem published in 191I was printed as an independent poem, whereas the later version of I 9 I 7 was used as part of a long poem.) Questions

I . Find four places where the great difference between the effects secured in the two versions arises from a difference in diction. 2. Which version draws its words from the wider area of the language? (Note that this has nothing to do with the length of the versions.) 3. Which requires the greater alertness on the part of a person trying to read it aloud effectively? 4. Which do you find the more interesting? Emily Dickinson (As Imperceptibly as Grief) sounds, after the passage of a century, considerably more "modern" than the Ezra Pound of 19I I , if not more so than the Pound of I 917. In the same way, chaucer's old msn sitting up in bedT h e slakke skyn aboute his nekke shaketh Whil that he sang, so chaunteth he and craketh

15

-might have been observed in the twentieth century instead of the fourteenth, and but for a few alterations of spelling, Chaucer's account doesn't date in the slightest, after nearly six hundred years. T h e Latin from which Pound paraphrased his Homage to Sextus Propertius is over two thousand years old. Since the poetic qualities we are studying now are the ones that are totally unaffected by the passage of time, no chronological order whatever has been observed in making the selections. It will be time enough when we come to Part 3 (page 279) to begin sorting out the poets into their centuries.

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Is the spot marked with no colossal bust, Nor column trophied for triumphal show? None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, As the ground was before, thus let it be;How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And is this all the world has gained by thee, Thou first and last of fields, king-making Victory? From Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 111, xvii

'Tone:

The Speaker's

What are the hopes of man? Old Egypt's King Cheops erected the first pyramid And largest, thinking it was just the thing T o keep his memory whole, and mummy hid; But somebody or other rummaging, Burglariously broke his coffin's lid: Let not a monument give you or me hopes, Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops. From Don Juan, I, ccxix

Mr.Y. is a liar. Mr. Y. has perhaps not been wholly candid. I disagree with Mr. Y. With all due respect to Mr. Y., one might venture a correction.

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO George Gordon, Lord Byron, I 8 I 6

Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchered below!

I . T r y to identify and describe the differences in tone in these two excerpts. 2. Which passage establishes the more easy and relaxed relationship with the reader? How can you tell? 3. Try to find three phrases in each passage which the other passage couldn't accommodate without serious disturbance to its tone. T u r n back to the two translations from Propertius (pages 13-14) and try to determine whether they differ in tone. Has the imaginary speaker the same kind of mind in both instances? the same quality of feeling for the lady on whose behalf he is praying? the same attitude toward the gods he is praying to? (Remember that all you know about the speaker of a poem is what is displayed in the poem. T h e name signed at the end is in this respect immaterial.)

Tone is determined by the writer's or speaker's sense of the situation, ~ e r h a p san imagined situation. This includes both his sense of the gravity of his subject, and his relationship, courtly, solemn, offhand, intimate, or whatever it is, with his audience.

Is the spot marked with no colossal bust, Nor column trophied for triumphal show? None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, As the ground was before, thus let it be;How that red rain hath made the harvest grow! And is this all the world has gained by thee, Thou first and last of fields, king-making Victory? From Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 111, xvii

The

Sense of His Situation

What are the hopes of man? Old Egypt's King Cheops erected the first pyramid And largest, thinking it was just the thing T o keep his memory whole, and mummy hid; But somebody or other rummaging, Burglariously broke his coffin's lid: Let not a monument give you or me hopes, Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops. From Don Juan, I, ccxix

Mr. Y. is a liar. Mr. Y. has perhaps not been wholly candid. I disagree with Mr. Y. With all due respect to Mr. Y., one might venture a correction.

THE FIELD OF WATERLOO George Gordon, Lord Byron, I 8 16

Stop!-for thy tread is on an Empire's dust! An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchered below! 16

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5

O N FAME George Gordon, Lord Byron, I 8 I 8

Speaker's

These statements illustrate differences of tone, so called because we often detect them in the tone of a speaker's voice. Whenever a poem makes us conscious of someone speaking, tone is a relevant conception. Its effect on the bare sense of the words is always perceptible. In the familiar extreme case of irony it can reverse the sense completely: "That's a fine way to behave!" (Meaning that it isn't). Further inspection of the examples above will show that diction and tone are closely related; in fact, diction is the most obvious means of establishing tone. T h e tone of the last example would be completely disrupted by the word "liar." T h e following excerpts from two long poems have approximately the same theme, but they differ greatly in tone.

5

Questions

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

m 'Tone:

5

O N FAME George Gordon, Lord Byron, I 8 18

Sense of His Sittration

These statements illustrate differences of tone, so called because we often detect them in the tone of a speaker's voice. Whenever a poem makes us conscious of someone speaking, tone is a relevant conception. Its effect on the bare sense of the words is always perceptible. In the familiar extreme case of irony it can reverse the sense completely: ''That's a fine way to behave!" (Meaning that it isn't). Further inspection of the examples above will show that diction and tone are closely related; in fact, diction is the most obvious means of establishing tone. T h e tone of the last example would be completely disrupted by the word "liar." T h e following excerpts from two long poems have approximately the same theme, but they differ greatly in tone.

17

5

Questions I. Try to identify and describe the differences in tone in these two excerpts. 2. Which passage establishes the more easy and relaxed relationship with the reader? How can you tell? 3. Try to find three phrases in each passage which the other passage couldn't accommodate without serious disturbance to its tone. T u r n back to the two translations from Propertius (pages 13-14) and try to determine whether they differ in tone. Has the imaginary speaker the same kind of mind in both instances? the same quality of feeling for the lady on whose behalf he is praying? the same attitude toward the gods he is praying to? (Remember that all you know about the speaker of a poem is what is displayed in the poem. T h e name signed at the end is in this respect immaterial.)

Tone is determined by the writer's or speaker's sense of the situation, perhaps an imagined situation. This includes both his sense of the gravity of his subject, and his relationship, courtly, solemn, offhand, intimate, or whatever it is, with his audience.

18

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Useful Terms

19

gloved fist on hip & the scowl of a cannibal) there's your mineral general animal

SILENCE Marianne Moore, 1924

My father used to say, 'Superior people never make long visits, have to be shown Longfellow's grave or the glass flowers at Harvard. Self-reliant like the catthat takes its prey to privacy, the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouththey sometimes enjoy solitude, and can be robbed of speech by speech which has delighted them. T h e deepest feeling alwavs shows itself in silence; not in silence, but restraint.' Nor was he insincere in saying, 'Make my house your inn'. Inns are not residences.

(five foot five) neither dead nor alive (in real the rain) Questions I.

What object is the speaker pointing to? (Consider lines 7, I I , and

16.) 2. Why is "real" (line 16) moved out of its expected position? 3. T h e speaker's attitude to the general is unmistakable. T h e tone also implies his attitude to his hearer. Try to determine what this is. Do you think "your" refers to someone in particular, or does it simply distinguish the speaker from the kind of people who admire generals?

Questions I . If we omit the first line of this poem, the next eleven lines become a somewhat prim admonition addressed by the writer directly to the reader. That is, the imagined situation changes completely. Does the tone become less attractive? 2. What relationship between writer and reader is set up by attributing these sentiments to "my father"? 3. Is the tone of the poem delicate? intimate? prissy? formal? forthright? oratorical? tactful?

"AND IF I DID WHAT THEN?" George Gascoigne, c. I 573

'And if I did, what then? Are you aggrieved therefore? T h e sea hath fish for every man, Arid what would you have more?'

#'NEITHER AWAKE .'I E. E. Cummings, 1950

T h u s did my Mistress once Amaze my mind with doubt; And popped a question for the nonce, T o beat my brains about.

neither awake (there's your general yas buy gad) nor asleep

Whereto I thus replied, 'Each fisherman can wish That all the seas at every tide Were his alone to fish.

booted & spurred with an apish grin (extremely like but quite absurd

'And so did I, in vain, But since it may not be, Let such fish there as find the gain, And leave the loss for me.

..

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Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Useful Terms

gloved fist on hip & the scowl of a cannibal) there's your mineral general animal

SILENCE Marianne Moore, I924

My father used to say, 'Superior people never make long visits, have to be shown Longfellow's grave or the glass flowers at Harvard. Self-reliant like the catthat takes its prey to privacy, the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouththey sometimes enjoy solitude, and can be robbed of speech by speech which has delighted them. T h e deepest feeling alwavs shows itself in silence; not in silence, but restraint.' Nor was he insincere in saying, 'Make my house your inn'. Inns are not residences.

(five foot five) neither dead nor alive (in real the rain)

5 Questions I.

What object is the speaker pointing to? (Consider lines 7, I I , and

16.) 10

Why is "real" (line 16) moved out of its expected position? 3. he-speaker's attitude to the general is unmistakable. T h e tone also implies his attitude to his hearer. Try to determine what this is. Do you think "your" refers to someone in particular, or does it simply distinguish the speaker from the kind of people who admire generals? 2.

Questions

If we omit the first line of this poem, the next eleven lines become a somewhat prim admonition addressed by the writer directly to the reader. That is, the imagined situation changes completely. Does the tone become less attractive? 2. What relationship between writer and reader is set up by attributing these sentiments to "my father"? 3. Is the tone of the poem delicate? intimate? prissy? formal? forthright? oratorical? tactful? I.

"AND IF I DID WHAT THEN?'' George Gascoigne, c. 1573

.

;

'And if I did, what then? Are you aggrieved therefore? T h e sea hath fish for every man, Arid what would you have more?'

"NEITHER AWAKE .'I E. E. Cummings, 1950

Thus did my Mistress once Amaze my mind with doubt; And popped a question for the nonce, T o beat my brains about.

neither awake (there's your general yas buy gad) nor asleep

Whereto I thus replied, 'Each fisherman can wish That all the seas at every tide Were his alone to fish.

booted & spurred with an apish grin (extremely like but quite absurd

'And so did I, in vain, But since it may not be, Let such fish there as find the gain, And leave the loss for me.

..

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Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Sitvation

20

Useful Terms

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where pcace And rest can never dwcll, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end Still urgcs, and a fiery deluge fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed: Such place Eternal Justice had prepared For those rebellious, here their Prison ordained In utter darkness, and their portion set As far removed from God and the light of Heaven As from the Centre thrice to the utmost Pole. 0 how unlike the place from whence they fell! From Paradise Lost, Book

'And with such luck and loss, I will content myself; Till tides of turning time may toss Such fishers on the shelf. 'And when they stick on sands, That every man may see, Then will I laugh and clap my hands, As they do now at me.' In the previous poem we hear the voices of two people, "I" and "my Mistress." In other poems we have frequently to imagine a man who is not the poet speaking to someone who is not the reader, and who does not explicitly reply: see, for instance, For Anne Gregory (page 2 ) . Neither party may be identified, but the tone clearly defines their presence and their respective roles. Since tone is determined by the speaker's sense of the situation, the reader who catches the tone can recognize from it both the situation and the speaker. T h e oratorical tone is one of the easiest to spot. Queen Victoria used to complain that Gladstone, her prime minister, addressed her as if she were a public meeting. T h e trace of this quality in the first of the following examples is probably to be attributed less to Milton's estimate of his reader than to his preoccupation with the magnitude of his subject.

I

SATAN AND MICHAEL

Lord Byron,

1822

T h e spirits were in neutral space, before T h e gate of heaven; like eastern thresholds is T h e place where Death's grand cause is argued o'er, And souls despatch'd to that world or to this; And therefore Michael and the other wore A civil aspect: though they did not kiss, Yet still between His Darkness and His Brightness There pass'd a mutual glance of great politeness.

SATAN I N HELL

T h e Archangel bow'd, not like a modern beau, But with a graceful oriental bend, Pressing one radiant arm just where below T h c heart in good men is supposed to tend. H e turn'd as to an equal, not too low, But kindly; Satan met his ancient friend With more hauteur, as might an old Castilian Poor noble meet a mushroom rich civilian.

John Milton, 1667 Nine times the space that measures day and night T o mortal men, he with his horrid crew Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf Confounded though immortal; but his doom Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes That witness'd huge affliction and dismay Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate: At once as far as Angel's ken he views T h e dismal situation, waste and wild; A dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe,

21

H e merely bent his diabolic brow An instant; and then raising it, he stood In act to assert his right or wrong. . . . From A Vision of Judgment, I, xxxv-xxxvii Questions I.

2.

Do you find Byron's or Milton's tone the more interesting? Why? Would Milton's tone have been altered by the presencc of

22

Useful Terms

rhymes? By the use of shorter sentences? Do his rhythmic effects help determine it? How? Is his diction similar to Byron's? 3. In a good dictionary, look up the derivation of the words "horrid," "confounded," "torments," "baleful," "affliction," in the Milton extract. W h a t does this tell you about Milton's diction? about the tone of the passage? In the next poem one country cousin is entertaining another with an account of a city wedding. W e are not much aware of the personality of the speaker; nevertheless, we are kept aware of a delicacy of tone, which depends in part on the writer's skill at fending off coarseness while never avoiding occasions on which it would be easy to be coarse.

A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING Sir John Suckling, I 64 I

But wot you what? the youth was going T o make an end of all his wooing; T h e parson for him stayed. Yet by his leave, for all his haste, H e did not so much wish all past, Perchance, as did the maid. T h e maid (and thereby hangs a tale), For such a maid no Whitsun-ale Could ever yet produce; N o grape, that's kindly ripe, could be So round, so plump, so soft as she, Nor half so full of juice. Her finger was so small the ring Would not stay on, which they did bring; It was too wide a peck: And to say truth (for out it must), It looked like the great collar, just, About our young colt's neck.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, There is a house with stairs; And there I did see coming down Such folk as are not in our town, Forty, at least, in pairs.

Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But oh, she dances such a way, N o sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight!

At course-a-park, without all doubt, H e should have been the first taken out By all the maids i' th' town, 19.course-a-park: a round game involving kissing.

Useful Terms

rhymes? By the use of shorter sentences? Do his rhythmic effects help determine it? How? Is his diction similar to Byron's? 3. In a good dictionary, look u p the derivation of the words "horrid," "confounded," "torments," "baleful," "affliction," in the Milton extract. W h a t does this tell you about Milton's diction? about the tone of the passage? In the next poem one country cousin is entertaining another with an account of a city wedding. W e are not much aware of the personality of the speaker; nevertheless, we are kept aware of a delicacy of tone, which depends in part on the writer's skill at fending off coarseness while never avoiding occasions on which it would be easy to be coarse.

A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING Sir John Suckling, I 64 I

H e would have kissed her once or twice, But she would not, she was so nice, She would not do't in sight; And then she looked as who should say, I will do what I list to-day, And you shall do't at night. Her cheeks so rare a white was on, N o daisy makes comparison ( W h o sees them is undone), 32. Whitsun-ale: a rustic festival. 27. stayed: waited. 2 5 . w o t : know. 5 3 . list: 5 0 . nice: punctilious. 34. K i n d l ) : by natural process.

lease.

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation Though lusty Roger there had been, Or little George upon the Green, Or Vincent of the Crown. But wot you what? the youth was going T o make an end of all his wooing; T h e parson for him stayed. Yet by his leave, for all his haste, H e did not so much wish all past, Perchance, as did the maid. T h e maid (and thereby hangs a tale), For such a maid no Whitsun-ale Could ever yet produce; N o grape, that's kindly ripe, could be So round, so plump, so soft as she, Nor half so full of juice.

I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen, Oh, things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair.

Her finger was so small the ring Would not stay on, which they did bring; It was too wide a peck: And to say truth (for out it must), It looked like the great collar, just, About our young colt's neck.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, There is a house with stairs; And there I did see coming down Such folk as are not in our town, Forty, at least, in pairs.

Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But oh, she dances such a way, N o sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight!

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine (His beard no bigger, though, than thine) Walked on before the rest. Our landlord looks like nothing to him; T h e king (God bless him!), 'twould undo him Should he go still so dressed. At course-a-park, without all doubt, H e should have been the first taken out By all the maids i' th' town, 19.course-a-park: a round game involving kissing.

23

Though lusty Roger there had been, Or little George upon the Green, Or Vincent of the Crown.

I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen, Oh, things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground, Be it at wake or fair.

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine (His beard no bigger, though, than thine) Walked on before the rest. Our landlord looks like nothing to him; T h e king (God bless him!), 'twould undo him Should he go still so dressed.

22

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

H e would have kissed her once or twice, But she would not, she was so nice, She would not do't in sight; And then she looked as who should say, I will do what I list to-day, And you shall do't at night. Her cheeks so rare a white was on, N o daisy makes comparison (Who sees them is undone), 32. Whitsun-ale: a rustic festival. 27. stayed: waited. 2 5 . w o t : know. 5 3 . lirt: 5 0 . nice: punctilious. 34. K i n d l ) : by natural process.

lease.

23

24

Useful Terms Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Catherine pcar (The side that's next the sun).

And this the very reason was Before the parson could say grace T h e company was seated.

Her lips were red, and one was thin Compared to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly); But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face I durst no more upon them gaze Than on the sun in July.

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse; Healths first go round, and then the house; T h e bride's came thick and thick: And when 'twas named another's health, Perhaps he made it hers by stealth, And who could help it, Dick?

Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.

0' the sudden u p they rise and dance; Then sit again and sigh and glance; Then dance again and kiss; Thus several ways the time did pass, Till every woman wished her place, And every man wished his!

If wishing should be any sin, T h e parson himself had been (She looked that day so purely); And did the youth so oft the feat At night, as some did in conceit, It would have spoiled him, surely.

By this time all were stolen aside T o counsel and undress the bride. But that he must not know; But yet 'twas thought he guessed her mind, And did not mean to stay behind Above an hour or so.

Passion o' me! How I run on! There's that that would be thought I trow, besides the bride. T h e business of the kitchen's great, For it is fit that man should eat, Nor was it there denied.

When in he came, Dick, there she lay Like new-fallen snow melting away ('Twas time, I trow, to part); Kisses were now the only stay, Which soon she gave, as who would say, "God be wi' ye, with all my heart."

1

Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice, And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey; Each serving man, with dish in hand, Marched boldly up, like our trained band, Presented, and away. W h e n all the meat was on the table, W h a t man of knife or teeth was able T o stay to be entreated? 7 2 . spent: enfeebled.

24

77. conceit: imagination.

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93. stay: wait.

But just as heavens would have to cross it, In came the bridesmaids with the posset. T h e bridegroom ate in spite, For had he left the women to't, It would have cost two hours to do't, Which were too much that night. At length the candle's out, and now All that they had not done, they do. W h a t that is, who can tell? But 1 believe it was no more Than thou and I have done before With Bridget and with Nell.

Useful Terms Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Catherine pcar (The side that's next the sun).

And this the very reason was Before the parson could say grace T h e company was seated.

Her lips were red, and one was thin Compared to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly); But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face I durst no more upon them gaze T h a n on the sun in July.

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse; Healths first go round, and then the house; T h e bride's came thick and thick: And when 'twas named another's health, Perhaps he made it hers by stealth, And who could help it, Dick?

Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get; But she so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit.

0' the sudden u p they rise and dance; Then sit again and sigh and glance; Then dance again and kiss; Thus several ways the time did pass, Till every woman wished her place, And every man wished his!

If wishing should be any sin, T h e parson himself had guilty been (She looked that day so purely); so oft the feat And did the ~ o u t h At night, as some did in conceit, It would have spoiled him, surely.

By this time all were stolen aside T o counsel and undress the bride. But that he must not know; But yet 'twas thought he guessed her mind, And did not mean to stay behind Above an hour or so.

Passion o' me! How I run on! There's that that would be thought upon, I trow, besides the bride. T h e business of the kitchen's great, For it is fit that man should eat, Nor was it there denied.

W h e n in he came, Dick, there she lay Like new-fallen snow melting away ('Twas time, I trow, to part); Kisses were now the only stay, Which soon she gave, as who would say, "God be wi' ye, with all my heart."

Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice, And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey; Each serving man, with dish in hand, Marched boldly up, like our trained band, Presented, and away. W h e n all the meat was on the table, W h a t man of knife or teeth was able T o stay to be entreated? 7 2 . spent: enfeebled.

77. conceit: imagination.

93. stay: wait.

But just as heavens would have to cross it, In came the bridesmaids with the posset. T h e bridegroom ate in spite, For had he left the women to't, It would have cost two hours to do't, Which were too much that night. At length the candle's out, and now All that they had not done, they do. W h a t that is, who can tell? But 1 believe it was no more Than thou and I have done before With Bridget and with Nell.

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Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Useful Terms

Questions I . Notice the important topic to which the speaker turns when he has done describing the bride. Can you find three other instances of his unsophisticated scale of values? 2 . Line 6 summarizes the speaker's notions of normal high life. Where else do you find him relating the present splendid event to his past experience? 3. Does he take the sexual aspect of the wedding for granted? Is he indifferent to it? 4. What difference would it make if the last three lines were omitted?

Though the point of view is provincial, the diction isn't, and from time to time we can see things being maneuvered so as to point up the speaker's provincialism. However, our attention is not on the speaker; he is a means through which we are shown the wedding in a fresh way. Behind the speaker's relation with Dick we discern the relationship of a more knowing pair, Suckling and his reader. T h e tone of the speaker (to Dick) is not quite identical with that of the poem (to us). Suckling's readers would have known that he was celebrating an actual wedding, between Roger Boyle, Baron Broghill, and the daughter of the Earl of Suffolk.

CAlN

Irving Layton, 1958 Taking the air rifle from my son's hand I measured back five paces, the Hebrew In me, narcissist, father of children Laid to rest. From there I took aim and fired. T h e silent ball hit the frog's back an inch Below the head. H e jumped at the surprise Of it, suddenly tickled or startled ( H e must have thought) and leaped from the wet sand Into the surrounding brown water. But T h e ball had done its mischief. His next spring Was a miserable flop, the thrust all gone Out of his legs. H e tried - like Bruce - again, Throwing out his sensitive ~ianist's Hands as a dwarf might or a helpless child. His splash disturbed the quiet pondwater And one old frog behind his weedy moat

Blinking, looking self-complacently on. T h e lin's surface at once became closing Eyelids and bubbles like notes of music Liquid, luminous, dropping from the page U7hite.white-bearded, a rapid crescendo Of inaudible sounds and a crones' whispering Backstage among the reeds and bullrushes As for an expiring Lear or Oedipus. But Death makes us all look ridi~ulous. Consider this frog (dog, hog, what you will) Spra~vling,his absurd corpse rocked by the tides That his last vain spring had set in movement. Like a retired oldster, I couldn't help sneer, Living off the last of his insurance: Billows - now crumbling - the premiums paid. Absurd, how absurd. I wanted to kill At the mockery of it, kill and kill Again -- the self-infatuate frog, dog, hog, Anything with the stir of life in it, Seeing that dead leaper, Chaplin-footed, Rocked andcradled in this afternoon Of tranquil water, reeds, and blazing sun, T h e h o k in his back clearly visible And the torn skin a blob of shadow Moving when the quiet poolwater moved. 0 Egypt, marbled Greece, resplendent Rome, Did you also finally perish from a small bore I n your back you could not scratch? .-And would Your mouths open ghostil~,gasping out Among the murky reeds, the hidden frogs, We. climb with crushed spines toward the heavens? W h e n the next morning I came the same way T h e frog was on his back, one delicate Hand on his belly, and his white shirt front Spotless. H e looked as if he might have been Atomic; tap dancer apologizing For a fall, or an Emcee, his wide grin Coaxing a laugh from us for an aside Or perhaps a joke we didn't quite hear.

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18. lin: pond.

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Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Useful Terms

Robert the Bruce-line 12-was the man who proverbially tried again and again, and so came to figure in schoolbooks as the liberator of Scotland. Questions I . Are lines 48-55 callous or shocking? Would they be if the victim were a person rather than a frog? How early in the poem is the frog first compared to some less insignificant victim? 2. Compare the tone of lines 19-24 and that of lines 32-35. What accounts for the difference? 3. T h e first section ends by comparing the frog to Lear or Oedipus, whose deaths move us. T h e second ends by comparing him to Egypt, Greece, and Rome, whose destruction has profited us. What differencc would it make to the poem if the third section (lines 48-55) were omitted? 4. Does the title imply that we are all potentially our brothers' killers? If this is the theme of the poem, are you meant to be disturbed by it?

THE SUN RISING John Donne, c. 1600

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, W h y dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains, call on us? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school-boys and sour prentices, Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time. T h y beams so reverend and strong W h y shouldst thou think? I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, But that I would not lose her sight so long. If her eyes have not blinded thine, Look, and tomorrow late tell me, Whether both thJIndias of spice and mine Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me. Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

28

She's all states, and all princes I; Nothing else is; Princes do but play us; compared to this, All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy. Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we, In that the world's contracted thus; Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be T o warm the world, that's done in warming us. Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere; This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere.

I . Why is the Sun called "pedantic" (line 5)? W h y are the apprentices "sour" (line 6)? W h a t tone do you detect in the references to everyone but lovers? 2. W h y has the world "contracted" (line 26)? 3. Consider "Thine age asks ease" (line 27)? How old do ycu think the speaker is? At this point is he being insolent? considerate? matter of fact? courteous? 4. Is the tone of the opening "Busy old fool" at all modified later in the poem?

5 PROSPICE Robert Browning, I 864

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15

Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, T h e mist in my face, W h e n the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, T h e power of the night, the press of the storm, T h e post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit attained, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, T h e reward of it all.

5

I0

20

Robert the Bruce-line 12-was the man who proverbially tried again and again, and so came to figure in schoolbooks as the liberator of Scotland. Questions I . Are lines 48-55 callous or shocking? Would they be if the victim were a person rather than a frog? How early in the poem is the frog first compared to some less insignificant victim? 2. Compare the tone of lines 19-24 and that of lines 32-35. What accounts for the difference? 3. T h e first section ends by comparing the frog to Lear or Oedipus, whose deaths move us. T h e second ends by comparing him to Egypt, Greece, and Rome, whose destruction has pofited us. What differencc would it make to the poem if the third section (lines 48-55) were omitted? l ~ brothers' killers? 4. Does the title imply that we are all ~ o t e n t i a l our If this is the theme of the poem, are you meant to be disturbed by it?

T h y beams so reverend and strong W h y shouldst thou think? I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink, But that I would not lose her sight so long. If her eyes have not blinded thine, Look, and tomorrow late tell me, Whether both th'lndias of spice and mine Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me. Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday, And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

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Questions

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, W h y dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains, call on us? Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run? Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide Late school-boys and sour prentices, Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride, Call country ants to harvest offices; Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime, Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

25

"Centre" (line 30) means the earth, about which the sun was supposed to revolve; hence, the whole world. "Sphere" is the transparent globe, surrounding the earth, to which the sun was supposed to be affixed, and the revolutions of which carried the sun around.

Useful Terms

THE SUN RISING John Donne, c. 1600

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29

She's all states, and all princes I; Nothing else is; Princes do but play us; compared to this, All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy. Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we, In that the world's contracted thus; Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be T o warm the world, that's done in warming us. Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere; This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere. "Centre" (line 30) means the earth, about which the sun was supposed to revolve; hence, the whole world. "Sphere" is the transparent globe, surrounding the earth, to which the sun was supposed to be affixed, and the revolutions of which carried the sun around. Questions I . W h y is the Sun called "pedantic" (line 5)? W h y are the apprentices "sour" (line 6)? W h a t tone do you detect in the references to everyone but lovers? 2. Why has the world "contracted" (line 26)? 3. Consider "Thine age asks ease" (line 27)? How old do ycu think the speaker is? At this point is he being insolent? considerate? matter of fact? courteous? 4. Is the tone of the opening "Busy old fool" at all modified later in the poem?

PROSPICE Robert Browning, I 864

Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, T h e mist in my face, W h e n the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the $ace, T h e power of the night, the press of the storm, T h e post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go: For the journey is done and the summit attained, And the barriers fall, Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, T h e reward of it all.

KO

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Useful Terms

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

31

I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more. T h e best and the last!

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore,

PIED BEAUTY

15

Gerard Manley Hopkins, I 877

And bade me creep past. No! Let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers T h e heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, T h e black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, 0 thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!

Glory be to God for dappled thingsFor skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough; And 611 trhdes, their gear and tackle and trim.

5

All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; H e fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him.

Questions I . "Prospice" means "look forward.'' T h e poem is believed to have been written shortly after the death of Browning's wife in 1861. What is its tone? Cheerful? Resolute? Theatrical? 2. Assuming that it is spoken aloud, can you imagine a situation in which this speech would be appropriate? Has someone spoken just before the poem opens? Or does line 26 mean that he is replying to a voice that has spoken from the beyond? 3. Or is he really addressing himself?

T h e difficulty of resolving these questions suggests that the poet is unclear about the situation in which the poem is supposed to be occurring, the audience to which it is supposed to be addressed. Extreme assertiveness tends to conceal such uncertainties. Tone, when it is at all prominent, always implies an imagined audience: sometimes an idealized reader, sometimes, as in love poems, an imagined hearer who is not the reader; sometimes the reply to an implied question or criticism, the comment on implied behavior. There is something theatrical afoot when we discern a question being answered which no one would be likely to have asked. T. S. Eliot has noted that in some of Shakespeare's most celebrated oratorical set-pieces, frequently regarded as the dramatist's messages to posterity, the speaker in the play is actually cheering himself up. When Othello, just before killing himself, says, "Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice," he is actually persuading himself that when they speak of him as he is, he will cut a pretty impressive figure. T h e audience he is addressing is chiefly himself.

CAPE ANN

T . S . Eliot, 1935 0 quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow, Swamp-sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper-sparrow At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance Of the goldfinch at noon. Leave to chance T h e Blackburnian warbler, the shy one. Hail With shrill whistle the note of the quail, the bob-white Dodging by bay-bush. Follow the feet Of the walker, the water-thrush. Follow the flight Of the dancing arrow, the purple martin. Greet In silence the bullbat. All are delectable. Sweet sweet sweet But resign this land at the end, resign it T o its true owner, the tough one, the sea-gull. T h e palaver is finished.

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10

Questions

Which of these two poems is the simpler to grasp? Why? In Pied Beauty, would the tone of the first line be the same if "wondrous" were substituted for "dappled"? Do the beginning and end of the line occupy different levels of seriousness? Can you find other lines in which the same thing happens? 3. What feelings usually go with the word "fickle" (line 8)? Would "variable" be an adequate substitute here? Would you ordinarily expect I.

2.

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 32

Useful Terms

to find the word in a poem beginning "Glory be to God"? in a short poem that mentioned "finches' wings"? 4. Is the poem a simple paean to the Creator? 5. What is the tone of line I of Cape Ann? Does it change by the end of the first sentence? Might the first line be spoken by a child? might the whole sentence? 6. Are the first ten lines a versified manual for bird watchers, or do they imply an attitude to the experience represented by the birds? How do you know? 7. What paradox is brought forward in line 10 of Pied Beauty? Does something similar happen in line 1 2 of Cape Ann? Is the tone of these lines similar or not? 8. In which poem does the tone of the opening undergo the more marked transformation? Cape Ann is a technical tour de force. "Quick quick quick" and "sweet sweet sweet" are different kinds of birdcalls. "The note of the quail" is echoed, according to the instructions, by an internal rhyme, and "bobwhite" gets another echo two lines later. After line 10 all these musical devices lapse. Why?

EPITAPH O N AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES A. E. Housman, 1922

These, in the day when heaven was falling, T h e hour when earth's foundations fled, Followed their mercenary calling And took their wages and are dead. Their shoulders held the sky suspended; T h e y stood, and earth's foundations stay; W h a t God abandoned, these defended, And saved the sum of things for pay. Questions I . If you had only the first stanza, what would you say was its tone? Now add line 5; what happens to the tone? 2. If only the last line of the poem had been preserved, what might you think the tone of it was? Jesting? Savage? Stoical? Solemn? Sneering? W h a t difference do the preceding seven lines make to it? 3. Might this poem have been written by a pious man? Is it indifferent to the existence of pious people, or does it imply a criticism of their feelings?

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"THERE DIED A MYRIAD" Ezra Pound, I 9 I 9

There died a myriad, And of thebest, among them, For an old bitch gone in the teeth, For a botched civilization. Charm, smiling at the good mouth, Quick eyes gone under earth's lid, For two gross ofbroken statues, For a few thousand battered books.

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Questions I . What feelings toward the dead men are implied in this poem? Are the feelings toward the dead men in Housman's Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries similar to these, or different? 2. Compare the value the two poets place on what the dead men accomplished. Does the author of There Died a Myriad imply that civilization wasn't worth saving? That books and statues are worthless, or simply that a civilization that regards them as items in a museum inventory ("two gross"; "a few thousand") is decadent? 3. Do lines 7-8 reflect wartime propaganda? or criticize it? Are there reflections of wartime propaganda in Housman's poem? 4. Compare the tone of the two poems. Which do you find the more interesting?

GOLFERS Irving Layton, 1955

Like Sieur Montaigne's distinction between virtue and innocence what gets you is their unbewilderment They come into the picture suddenly like *finished houses, gapes and planed wood, dominating a landscape And you see at a glance among sportsmen they are the metaphysicians, intent, untalkative, pursuing Unity

34

Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation

Useful Terms

stanza 27 In line 7 substitute "across the seas" for "the underworld," and in line 9 "horizon" for "verge." What happens to the effect? Why? Does the poet's language tamper with the facts? Does it falsify human emo. tions? Or is it a way of condensing those portions of pierside greetings and farewells that are relevant to his theme?

(What finally gets you is their chastity) And that no theory of pessimism is complete which altogether ignores them

"TEARS, IDLE TEARS" Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 853

T h e difference between an emotion presented for examination and one in which the reader is invited to wallow is important to recognize. When a poem is about an emotion, detaching the reader from the emotion is an important function of tone. It is often very difficult to decide, in particular cases, whether the tone succeeds in doing this.

'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, I n looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.

THE INDIAN SERENADE Percy Bysshe Shelley, c. 1817

'Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one T h a t sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.

I arise from dreams of thee I n the first sweet sleep of night, W h e n the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me-who knows how? T o thy chamber window, Sweet!

'Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns T h e earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds T o dying ears, when unto dying eyes T h e casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.

Questions

T h e wandering airs they faint O n the dark, the silent streamT h e Champak odors fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; T h e nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart;As I must on thine, Oh! beloved as thou art!

I. Does this poem set out to make you sad, or to help you understand the nature of sadness? 2. What does "idle" mean in line I ? Is its meaning modified in the rest of the stanza? 3. T h e refrain may be taken as a sort of progress report, summarizing the stage to which each stanza has advanced the theme. Were you aware of this at first reading, or did the poignancy of the phrase "the days that are no more" tend to obliterate the first half of the line? 4. T o what emotional use is the fact that the earth is curved put in

O h lift me from the grass! I die! I faint! I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain O n my lips and eyelids ~ a i e . hly cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast;o h ! press it to thine own again, Where it will break at last.

'Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd O n lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; 0 Death in Life, the days that are no more!'

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36

Useful Terms

Questions I . T h e word "as" (line I 5) claims to establish two parallel situations. Are they really parallel? Are the words "faint," "fail," and "die" appropriate to the contexts in which they are introduced in stanza 2? W h a t does each of them mean in line I 8? 2. Are inanimate things conceived in this poem as though they were alive? Why? 3. What does the last line mean? 4. Is the speaker's state of mind being presented as though it were the only possible one for a lover? 5. Might lines 21-22 describe the symptoms of a disease? 6. Are you meant to examine the speaker's emotion, or simply share it?

w

The Image: W h a t the Words Actually Nilme

T h e novelist who isn't trying very hard will tell you that his hero is, for instance, "a. gentleman of independent mind." You register the fact that nothing has been said against the fellow, and pass on, hoping, perhaps, that the villain will be more interesting. Whole pages, even, filled with phrases of this kind are simply thrown away. As likely as not, the reader skips, and with reason. Nothing whatever lays hold of his mind to compensate for the fatigue of shuttling his eye across the page. But if he came upon these words of Confucius, they would perhaps bring him up short: T h e proper man is not a dish. This is a factual statement. It isn't an "as if.'' But it is not the sort of factual statement on which the dictionary gives much help: "A vessel, as a platter, used for serving food at the table," etc. hleditating Qn the two halves of the sentence, we think of the dish as an implement, something used (the "proper man" isn't used by anybody); as an object into which you put things (the proper man doesn't passively submit to being "filled up"), as distinguished from, say, a spring or a well; but an object into which you can't put very much, as distinguished from a pot or a barrel (note the popular ~ h r a s e about so-and-so being ''deepU). "Dish" i n this sentence is an extremely rich term; richer than any of the usual attributes of propriety 37

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Useful Terms

Questions I . T h e word "as" (line I 5) claims to establish two parallel situations. Are they really parallel? Are the words "faint," "fail," and "die" appropriate to the contexts in which they are introduced in stanza 2? What does each of them mean in line I 8? 2. Are inanimate things conceived in this poem as though they were alive? Why? 3. W h a t does the last line mean? 4. Is the speaker's state of mind being presented as though it were the only possible one for a lover? 5. Might lines 21-22 describe the symptoms of a disease? 6. Are you meant to examine the speaker's emotion, or simply share it?

w

The Image: W h a t the Words Actually Nilme

T h e novelist who isn't trying very hard will tell you that his hero is, for instance, "a gentleman of independent mind." You register the fact that nothing has been said against the fellow, and pass on, hoping, perhaps, that the villain will be more interesting. Whole pages, even, filled with phrases of this kind are simply thrown away. As likely as not, the reader skips, and with reason. Nothing whatever lays hold of his mind to compensate for the fatigue of shuttling his eye across the page. But if he came upon these words of Confucius, they would perhaps bring him u p short: T h e proper man is not a dish. This is a factual statement. It isn't an "as if.'' But it is not the sort of factual statement on which the dictionary gives much help: "A vessel, as a platter, used for serving food at the table," etc. Meditating Qn the two halves of the sentence, we think of the dish as an implement, something used (the "proper man" isn't used by anybody); as an object into which you put things (the proper man doesn't passively submit to being "filled up"), as distinguished from, say, a spring or a well; but an object into which you can't put very much, as distinguished from a pot or a barrel (note the popular phrase about so-and-so being ''deepU). "Dish" i n this sentelzce is an extremely rich term; richer than any of the usual attributes of propriety 37

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The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Useful Terms

. . . is independent, . . . is not a passive learner, . . . is inexhaustible, . . . is a giver, rather than a receiver, of' wisdom, . . . is not shallow, and so on. It derives this richness of implication not from the dictionary but from being juxtaposed with "The proper man." W h e n words are skillfully put together (juxtaposed, literally yut to gether, placed in contact) they generate potentials of this kind; exactly as, when you touch electric terminals together, you get a spark. "Dish," in this example, may be called an image: a thing the writer names and introduces because its presence in the piece of writing will release and clarify meaning. W h e n it is placed in contact with "is not a dish," the phrase "the proper man" is illuminated. It exhibits more meaning, and more definite meaning, than it did before. This is the normal function of images. Note that a sentence like "The proper man is honest" doesn't define, or in any comparable way enlarge the significance of, proper manhood. It merely provides proper manhood with a loose attribute, and tells us nothing we didn't know before. A term like "honest" can be stretched to mean anything the speaker chooses, from "truthful" to "obstinate." An image can't be stretched in this way. An image can even be transferred without essential damage into another language. An abstract term often can't. For instance, the French honn&te homme does not mean the same thing as the English "honest man." It suggests respectability rather than uprightness. Because an image introduces a thing rather than a concept, it resists this sort of deformation. Now consider the way Wordsworth describes Lucy: SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS

William Wordsworth, I 799 She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love :

A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! -Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know W h e n Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, T h e difference to me!

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10

During a century and a half the terminology of Wordsworth's prose preface to his 1800 collection has so altered as to require reconstruction of the meaning by a species of archeology. One must patiently dig back through the history of terms like "nature," "imagination," "soul," "poetic diction," and the like. This poem, however, being an arrangement of images and rhythms rather than of terms, remains fresh and untarnished. T h e meaning is locked down to the page. Questions I . T h e contrast between a violet and a mossy stone is obvious (fragility vs. indestructibility, sensitivity and motion vs. inertia, daintiness vs. massiveness, and so on). Wordsworth might have registered these aspects of his meaning by writing "A violet bv a heavv brick." W h a t does he add to the meaning by using a stone? Why a rizossy stone? 2. Does the violet in any way need the stone which exists in so sharp a contrast beside it? 3. W h a t is Lucy related to as a violet is related to a mossy stone? Consider what the last two lines of stanza I tell you about her environment (and note that these lines mean exactly what they say; they don't say she wasn't praiseworthy). Did her special qualities in any way need for their production this surrounding massive indifference? 4. When a girl is compared to a violet it is usually a shrinking, dependent nature that is implied. Is this the case here? How does the presence of the "mossy stone" affect our feeling about her? 5. What is the connection between the first stanza and the second? 6. W h a t is the connection between the first two lines of stanza 2 and the two lines following? Is there a color image imported from the first two into the last two? 7. Consider the effect of directing our attention first to a secluded violet attached to the ground, then to a star overhead. Does this change of dimension and perspective prevent us from regarding Lucy in too patronizing a way? 8. If only the star comparison were used, what kind of person would it suggest? How does the violet comparison modify this? Does it cancel it out entirely? 9. What does the last line mean if the stress is placed on "difference"? if it is placed on "me"? 10. "The difference to me" is something more than simple loss. Note

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The Image: What the Words Actually Name

that Lucy in her grave is still surrounded by earth and protected by a stone, and still as inaccessible as a star. T h e comparisons of stanza 2 still apply, but in a different way. Can you see how the "difference" is defined by the poem? Does this explain how so uncolored a word can be used here as a poignant climax? Consider the loss to the poem had Wordsworth written, "The agony for me!" 11. Wordsworth wrote in his 1800 Preface that the Poet "considers man and nature as essentially adapted to each other, and the mind of man as naturally the mirror of the fairest and most interesting properties of nature." How many senses of "Nature" are distinguished in your dictionary? Is Wordsworth here using one of these, or a blend of several? Has the sentence anything to do with the theme of this poem? W h y is one so much less certain that one knows exactly what the prose statement means? Even though it probably means less than the poem? THE CRANE

Charles Tomlinson, 1957 That insect, without antennae, over its Cotton-spool lip, letting An almost invisible tenuity Of steel cable, drop Some seventy feet, with the Grappling hook hidden also Behind a dense foreground Among which it is fumbling, and Over which, mantis-like It is begging or threatening, gracile From a clear sky-that pternal Constructive insect, without antennae, Would seem to assure us that 'The future is safe, because It is in my hands.' And we do not Doubt this veracity, we can only Fear it-as many of us As pause here to remark Such silent solicitude For lifting intangible weights Into real walls.

41

It is a very large machine (line 5). Does it seem massive? 3. What elements in the poem prepare us for line 207

2.

POEM O N LAGOONS

Eli Siegel, 1957 In time, the lagoon will be seen; And the historical mosquitoes. T h e lazy sunsets will be seen as lazy; And the Central American sun As it somehow goes through mists, Will be recognized as all it is. Central American dimness Will be used For the better cognition Of anything, anything in Europe Or here. T h e indolent crocodile Will be employed (With the lagoon) For the sharper seeing Of lizards elsewhere. T h e iguana, the alligator, the crocodile, All serviceable, Will make the lagoon-at lastA seen thing and welcome. Dear me, the strict necessity of it.

A poem about the way images assist one another to deepen comprehension. With lines 12-16, compare the interplay of images (violet, stone, and so on) in S h e Dwelt among the Untrodden W a y s . Out of what are your conceptions of things you have never seen built up?

NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Robert Frost, pub. 1923 20

Questions I . Why is the Crane transformed into an insect, instead of being allowed to remain a piece of machinery?

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour.

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T h e n leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Questions Do lines 1-5 outline the course of a day or the course of a season? If the former, then the "gold" is merely a trick of early light; if the latter, then it is a phase through which the leaves themkelves actually pass. What difference do these possibilities make when we get to line 6? A poem built out of analogies can "prove" nothing; but it can testify to the degree of thought that has preceded its composition.

AN EPISTLE TO A PATRON F. T. Prince, 1938

My lord, hearing lately of your opulence in promises and your house Busy with parasites, of your hands full of favours, your statutes Admirable as music and no fear of your arms not prospering, I have Considered how to serve you and breed from my talents These few secrets which I shall make plain T o your intelligent glory. You should understand that I have plotted Being in command of all the ordinary engines Of defence and offence,a hundred and fifteen buildings Less others less complete: complete, some are courts of serene stone Some the civil structures of a war-like elegance as bridges Sewers, aqueducts, and citadels of brick with which I declare the fact That your nature is to vanquish. For these I have acquired a knowledge Of the habits of numbers and of various tempers and skill in setting Firm sets of pure bare members which will rise, hanging together Like an argument, with beams, ties and sistering pilasters: T h e lintels and windows with mouldings as round as a girl's chin; thresholds T o libraries; halls that cannot be entered without a sensation as of myrrh By your vermilion officers, your sages and dancers. There will be chambers

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5

10

I5

Useful Terms

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Questions Do lines 1-5 outline the course of a day or the course of a season? If the former, then the "gold" is merely a trick of early light; if the latter, then it is a phase through which the leaves them'selves actually pass. What difference do these possibilities make when we get to line 6? A poem built out of analogies can "prove" nothing; but it can testify to the degree of thought that has preceded its composition.

AN EPISTLE TO A PATRON F. T. Prince, I 938 My lord, hearing lately of your opulence in promises and your house Busy with parasites, of your hands full of favours, your statutes Admirable as music and no fear of your arms not prospering, I have Considered how to serve you and breed from my talents These few secrets which I shall make plain T o your intelligent glory. You should understand that I have plotted Being in command of all the ordinary engines Of defence and offence,a hundred and fifteen buildings Less others less complete: complete, some are courts of serene stone Some the civil structures of a war-like elegance as bridges Sewers, aqueducts, and citadels of brick with which I declare the fact That your nature is to vanquish. For these I have acquired a knowledge Of the habits of numbers and of various tempers and skill in setting Firm sets of pure bare members which will rise, hanging together Like an argument, with beams, ties and sistering pilasters: T h e lintels and windows with mouldings as round as a girl's chin; thresholds T o libraries; halls that cannot be entered without a sensation as of myrrh By your vermilion officers, your sages and dancers. There will be chambers

Like the recovery of a sick man, your closet waiting not Less suitably shadowed than the heart, and the coffers of a ceiling T o reflect your diplomatic taciturnities. You may commission Hospitals, huge granaries that will smile to bear your filial plunders And stables washed .ivith a silver lime in whose middle tower seated In the slight acridity you may watch T h e copper thunder kept in the sulky flanks of your horse, a rolling field Of necks glad to be groomed, the strong crupper, the edged hoof And the long back, seductive and rebellious to saddles. And barracks, fortresses in need of no vest save light, light That to me is breath, food and drink, I live by effects of light, I live T o catch it, to break it, as an orator plays off Against each other and his theme his casual gems, and so with light Twisted in strings, plucked, crossed or knotted, or crumbled As it may be allou~edto be by leaves Or clanged back by lakes and rocks or otherwise beaten O r else spilt and spread like a feast of honey, dripping Through delightful voids and creeping along long fractures, brimming e s pearls: all this the Carved canals, bowls and l a ~ h r ~ m a t o r iwith work Of now advancing now withdrawing faces, whose use I know. I know what slabs will be soaked to a thumb's depth by the sun And where to rob them, what colour stifles in your intact quarries, what Sand silted in your river-gorges will well mix with the dust of flint, I know What wood to cut by what moon in what weather Of your sea-winds, your hill-wind: therefore tyrant, let me learn Your high-ways, ways of sandstone, roads of the oakleaf and your sea-ways. Send me to dig dry graves, exposing what you want. I must Attend your orgies and debates (let others apply for austerities) admit me TOyour witty table, stuff me with urban levities, feed me, bind me TOa prudish luxury, free me thus and with a workshop From my household consisting Of a pregnant wife, one female and one boy child and an elder bastard With other properties, these let me regard, let me neglect and let What I begin be finished. Save me, noble sir, from the agony Of starved and privy explorations such as those I stumble

5

10

I5

Like the recovery of a sick man, your closet waiting not Less suitably shadowed than the heart, and the coffers of a ceiling T o reflect your diplomatic taciturnities. You may commission Hospitals, huge granaries that will smile to bear your filial plunders And stables washed rvith a silver lime in whose middle tower seated I n the slight acridity you may watch T h e copper thunder kept in the sulky flanks of your horse, a rolling field Of necks glad to be groomed, the strong crupper, the edged hoof And the long back, seductive and rebellious to saddles. And barracks, fortresses in need of no vest save light, light That to me is breath, food and drink, I live by effects of light, I live T o catch it, to break it, as an orator plays off Against each other and his theme his casual gems, and so with light Twisted in strings, plucked, crossed or knotted, or crumbled As it may be allou~edto be by leaves O r clanged back by lakes and rocks or otherwise beaten Or else spilt and spread like a feast of honey, dripping Through delightful voids and creeping along long fractures, brimming Carved canals, bowls and lachrymatories with pearls: all this the work Of now advancing now withdrawing faces, whose use I know. I know what slabs will be soaked to a thumb's depth by the sun And where to rob them, what colour stifles in your intact quarries, what Sand silted in your river-gorges will well mix with the dust of flint, I know What wood to cut by what moon in what weather Of your sea-winds, your hill-wind: therefore tyrant, let me learn Your high-ways, ways of sandstone, roads of the oakleaf and your sea-ways. Send me to dig dry graves, exposing what you want. I must Attend your orgies and debates (let others apply for austerities) admit me TOyour witty table, stuff me with urban levities, feed me, bind me TOa prudish luxury, free me thus and with a workshop From my household consisting Of a pregnant wife, one female and one boy child and an elder bastard With other properties, these let me regard, let me neglect and let What I begin be finished. Save me, noble sir, from the agony Of starved and privy explorations such as those I stumble

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From a hot bed to make, to follow lines to which the night-sky Holds only faint contingencies. These flights with no end but 55 failure or prevent. And failure not to end them, these I wish for liberty, let me then be tied: and seeing too much I aspire to be constrained by your emblems of birth and triumph And between the obligations of your future and the checks of actual state 60 TOflourish, adapt the stubs of an interminable descent and place T h e crested key to confident vaults; with a placid flurry of petals And bosom and lips will stony functionaries support T h e persuasion, so beyond proof, of your power. I will record In peculiar scrolls your alien alliances Fit an apartment for your eastern hostage, extol in basalt Your father, praise with white festoons the goddess your lady, And for your death which will be mine prepare An encasement as if of solid blood. And so let me Forget, let me remember that this is stone, stick, metal, trash 70 Which I will pile and hack, my hands will stain and bend (None better knowing how to gain from the slow pains of a marble Bruised,breathing strange climates). Being pressed as I am, being broken By wealth and poverty, torn between strength and weakness, take me, choose T o relieve me, to receive of me and must you not agree 75 As you have been to some-a great giver of banquets, of respite from swords W h o shook out figured cloths, who rained coin A donor of laurel and of grapes, a font of profuse intoxicants-and so T o be so too for me? And none too soon, since the panting mind Rather than barren will be prostitute and once 80 I served a herd of merchants: but since I will be faithful And my virtue is such, though far from home let what is yours be mine and this be a match As many have been proved, enduring exiles and blazed Not without issue in returning shows: your miserly freaks Your envies, racks and poisons not out of mind Although not told, since often borne-indeed how should it be 85 That you employed them less than we? but now be flattered a little T o indulge the extravagant gist of this communication. For my p i d e puts all in doubt and at present I have no patience I have simply hope and I submit me T o your judgement which will be just.

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

45

Questions I . Elow does this poem differ from an austere check list of the projects the writer of the epistle proposes to accomplish? W h y is it so long? 2. What exactly does he want in return for what he offers? Consider line 57. Is it the prospect of security that excites him most? 3. Is the construction of every sentence wholly orderly? W h y or why not? 4. Are the images in lines 25-27 meant to convey a visual impression or something more? 5. Examine the images in lines 28-44. How often does their application to what is ostensibly under discussion surprise you? What keeps us from protesting that a man who claims to drink light and tie knots in it must be mad? Has the length of the lines something to do with the headlong enthusiasm of the poem? Does this in turn protect the audacities of image from criticism? 6. How does this builder differ from a twentieth-century engineer applying for a commission? Is this difference part of the intended effect of the poem? Do you feel as though you were being taken into the past, or into a wholly imagined world?

In a passage near the end of Shakespeare's Macbeth we find the word "death" followed by the phrase, "Out, out, brief candle!" Though the actor isn't holding a candle, no one is puzzled. In the suggestkd extinction of a candle we instantly see the extinction of a life, brought before us more vividly than the bare word "death can bring it. If one required nothing of an image but vividness, the number of poems one willingly rereads would be greater than it is. Any image is by its nature more vivid than any statement. Shakespeare's image, however, at this point in the play, fixes with great precision not only the fact of death but a mood of the speaker's, a coherent set of feelings about the life to be terminated. Out, out, brief candle! A candle flame doesn't cling ruggedly to survival, like a bull receiving wound after wound; though intensely real, the flame is instantaneously vulnerable. Macbeth is reducing death to a negligible event, without dismissing life as trash: flames are cherished. Then the flame emanates heat and light, like a human body and soul, but one extinguishes it casually when done with it, not even summoning up the resolution required to step on a mouse. (Qftestion: W h y would "I hold this life cheapMnot be an adequate paraphrase?) Candles last only so long ('%brief"); this one is nearly burned away ("brief" again); why conserve

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The Image: What the Words Actually Name

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47

an existence that is almost finished anyhow? These considerations sketch out the feelings concentrated in Shakespeare's image; the image unites them all in four words. NOTE that this feat of condensation would be lost on a reader whose mind didn't respond to the word "candle"; who accepted it passively as equivalent to a conventional phrase like "spark of life."

mean. ' T h e r e exists a solid argument favoring such a course": one can only receive the sense of this sentence by ignoring the fact that none of the wo,-ds means what it says: course, a motion from point to point; favor, t3 look upon with esteem; solid, not hollow or soft. Since these notions won't hang together, one avoids them, and merely notes the fact that th(: writer approves of the argument he is about to outline. " l n a

From MACBETH

of editorials pays no attention to the monstrosity this sentence postulates, an edifice held together with cement, yet conscious and at the same time knit; nor does he protest that the adverb in "racially conscious" is meaningless as an adverb (cf. "dimly conscious"). Would "On this island they love their Japanese neighbor" be a more lucid SL bstitute? Or does it change what the writer of the original botch probablv meant? T h e ability to read this sort of nonsense rapidly and estimate its probable meaning is a remarkable achievement, one to which you have devoted a good deal of your life. T h e Chinese scholar no doubt wonders how YOU can do it at all, as you marvel at his ability to remember so many ~vrittensigns. You have cultivated defenses against the literal sense of the words, which go into action the moment you confront an expanse of print. T o read poems you must acquire the habit of switching these defenses off, and trusting that the words mean what they say. When Shakespeare writes "Night's candles are burnt out" you are to think 01' candles.

W i l l i a m Shakespeare, c. 1605 To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day T o the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools T h e way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Act V, v Questions I . W h y is time recorded in syllables? What image underlies this expression? 2. What is the image in lines 4-5? Travelers being lighted zhrough dangerous streets? 3. How does the candle image grow out of what has gone before? How does it lead to what follows? 4. Is a player (actor) a "~valkingshadow"? shadow of what? 5. What introduces the image in lines 8-10? 6. How many times, as you read the passage, does the thing you are being shown undergo a change? 7. HOWmany times is the idea of forward motion reverted fo, after it is first introduced by "creeps"? At what point in the passage is it abandoned? Why? 8. There are at least two conventional images beneath Shakespeare's effects: life as a journey and life as a story. What others can you identify?

Inert writing (99 per cent of the printed matter one looks at) is paved with conventional phrases. One grows used to not noticing what they

nation as tightly knit and racially conscious as Japan, patriotism represents the cement w h i c h holds the edifice together": the skilled consumer

(

The image is what the words actually name.

1

A Note on Terminology

T h e various ways in which the-thing-named-in-the-poem may be related to the-thing-the-poem-is-"really"-about have given rise to a number of special terms often found in critical writings. T h u s when the poet says th,lt something is something else-"Life's but a walking shadow" -he is said to employ a nzetaphor. When he softens this to a comparison-"Life's like a walking shadown-he has used a simile. W h e n parts do duty for wholes-"hands" for "workers," "feet" for "pedestrians"-we have s)necdoche; and so on. A list of these terms, with examples, may be fourhd in Folvler's Modern English Usage, a book no college library is without. Such terminology has many uses but one serious drawback: it draws the attr,ntion away from what the poet actually wrote on the page. Mac-

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The Image: What the Words Actually Name

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beth in his despairing mood chooses to reduce life to a walking shadow, and it seems impertinent to say that he really meant only to compare the two. Similarly, to say that when he wrote "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!" Shakespeare was employing "figurative language" equivalent to "the moon is shining and I like it," is to distract us from noticing that he means us to feel the moonlight as something literally sleeping, and the spectacle of that sleep as something sweet. Hence in this book the word "image," defined as "the thing the words actually name," is employed throughout, instead of five or six more specialized words. It is unwise, whenever you encounter an unusual expression, to suppose that it is merely a colorful way of saying something commonplace, and then translate it into a commonplace near equivalent. T h e poet writes down what he means. Poetry is the only mode of written communication in which it is normal for all the words to mean what they say. THE EAGLE Alfred, Lord Tennyson, c. I 845

H e clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas, That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; And every oar, a thought in readiness, As though that death were light in such a case. An endless wind doth tear the sail apace Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness; A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain, Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance; Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance. T h e stars be hid that led me to this pain; Drowned is Reason, that should me comfort; And I remain, despairing of the port.

THE LOVER COMPARETH HIS STATE TO A SHIP I N PERILOUS STORM TOSSED O N THE SEA Sir Thomas Wyatt ( I p 3 - 1 542), p b . I 557

My galley, charged with forgetfulness, Thorough sharp seas, in winter nights, doth pass I.

charged: laden.

5

12. stars: her eyes.

Translated from Petrarch's 156th sonnet; this fact is one indication that Wyatt is making no effort to conceive an original situation. His attention is devoted to working out the details as satisfactorily as he can. Much Renaissance verse concerns itself with explicating in detail a stock comparison. More frequently the poet leaves the details to be recognized by the reader. T h e existence of a large body of verse like this specimen should caution us against supposing that poets do not intend their images to undergo detailed scrutiny.

T h e wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; H e watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls. Obviously an account of an eagle, but the human details (clasps, hands, the masculine pronoun he) suggest that the eagle is himself an image of certain moral qualities. Birds have no moral qualities. Nevertheless, we are not meant to translate the poem, or "interpret" it. W e are meant to see the eagle, and sense these moral qualities in, through, or by means of it.

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HER FATHER'S EXHORTATION TO JULIET William Shakespeare, c. I 595

Enter CAPULET and NURSE. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; But for the sunset of my brother's son It rains downright. How now! a conduit, girl? what! still in tears? Evermore showering? In one little body Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, Without a sudden calm, will overset T h y tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! Have you delivered to her our decree?

CAPULET.

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The Image: What the Words Actually Name

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LADY CAPULET.

Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.

I would the fool were married to her grave!

From PRELUDES T. S. Eliot, 1910

15

From Romeo and Juliet, 111, v

T h e winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. T h e burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps T h e grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; T h e showers beat O n broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps.

Shakespeare is characterizing a pompous windbag, but aware that his audience delights in the extended comparison for its own sake. In his later plays he seldom permits the audience this gratification. Macbeth's phrase about the candle might have been expanded in this way, and adequate reading so expands it. T h e test of an image is not its originality but the illumination of thought and emotion it provides. This illumination depends on its capacity for penetrating the most intimate details of the situation which evokes it. T h e details of an obscure passage will often be found to cohere around an unstated image. H e has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain H e is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, W i t h sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.

2. It should perhaps be pointed out that, at the time the poem was written, steak was a staple of lower-class diet.

Questions

W h a t is the image in line 4? DO you see any point to the collocation of "withered leaves" and "newspapers" in lines 7-8? Does it imply an' attitude to the civilization that generates the newspapers? Would the value of the word "newspapers" in the poem alter if "withered" in the previous line were changed to "autumn"? 3. Apart from the observer's feet, the cab horse is the only living thing in the poem. W h y have faces and voices been excluded? 4. Try to describe the effect of the last line. 5. How should line 3 be read? A sigh? A grunt? A statement? W h y is it so short? I.

2.

In this stanza from Shelley's Adonais "the shadow of our night" is the shadow cast aloft by the earth just after sunset; "he," conceived as a high-flying bird, has soared to altitudes where the sun is still visible, while Envy, Calumny and the rest circle like buzzards in the thickening shadow below. This shadow is also "the world's slow stain" of line 5; but "contagion" here introduces the new image of bodily decay that dominates the second half of the stanza. "Cold" in line 7 introduces a third image, life as a fire that gradually dies out. T h e "sparkless ashes" in line 9 are those of the body when the heat of creative enthusiasm has departed, an image that draws gravity from the evocation, in the final words, of a funeral urn. This elaborate metamorphosis of image into image is unusual, though single unstated images are frequent in Shakespeare. Here as in the Ode to the West Wind (page 2 6 2 3 Shelley's propulsive rhythm prevents the inattentive reader from complaining of obscurities.

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"WITHOUT INVENTION" William Carlos Williams, 1 9 ~ 6

Without invention nothing is well spaced, unless the mind change, unless the stars are new measured, according to their relative positions, the line will not change, the necessity 3. the constellations are gradually drifting out of shape.

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Useful Terms

LADY CAPULET.

51

51

Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.

I would the fool were married to her grave!

From PRELUDES T. S. Eliot, 1910

15

From Romeo and Juliet, 111, v

T h e winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. T h e burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a gusty shower wraps T h e grimy scraps Of withered leaves about your feet And newspapers from vacant lots; T h e showers beat O n broken blinds and chimney-pots, And at the corner of the street A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps. And then the lighting of the lamps.

Shakespeare is characterizing a pompous windbag, but aware that his audience delights in the extended comparison for its own sake. In his later plays he seldom permits the audience this gratification. Macbeth's phrase about the candle might have been expanded in this way, and adequate reading so expands it. T h e test of an image is not its originality but the illumination of thought and emotion it provides. This illumination depends on its capacity for penetrating the most intimate details of the situation which evokes it. T h e details of an obscure passage will often be found to cohere around an unstated image. H e has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain H e is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, W i t h sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. In this stanza from Shelley's Adonais "the shadow of our night" is the shadow cast aloft by the earth just after sunset; "he," conceived as a high-flying bird, has soared to altitudes where the sun is still visible, while Envy, Calumny and the rest circle like buzzards in the thickening shadow below. This shadow is also "the world's slow stain" of line 5; but "contagion" here introduces the new image of bodily decay that dominates the second half of the stanza. "Cold" in line 7 introduces a third image, life as a fire that gradually dies out. T h e "sparkless ashes" in line 9 are those of the body when the heat of creative enthusiasm has departed, an image that draws gravity from the evocation, in the final words, of a funeral urn. This elaborate metamorphosis of image into image is unusual, though single unstated images are frequent in Shakespeare. Here as in the Ode to the West Wind (page 2 6 2 3 Shelley's propulsive rhythm prevents the inattentive reader from complaining of obscurities.

2. It should perhaps be pointed out that, at the time the poem was written, steak was a staple of lower-class diet.

Questions

W h a t is the image in line 4? DO you see any point to the collocation of "withered leaves" and "newspapers" in lines 7-8? Does it imply an' attitude to the civilization that generates the newspapers? Would the value of the word "newspapers" in the poem alter if "withered" in the previous line were changed to "autumn"? 3. Apart from the observer's feet, the cab horse is the only living thing in the poem. W h y have faces and voices been excluded? 4. Try to describe the effect of the last line. 5. How should line 3 be read? A sigh? A grunt? A statement? W h y is it so short? I.

2.

"WITHOUT INVENTION" William Carlos Williams, 1946

Without invention nothing is well spaced, unless the mind change, unless the stars are new measured, according to their relative positions, the line will not change, the necessity 3. the constellations are gradually drifting out of shape.

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The Image: What the Words Actually Name

will not matriculate: unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line, the old will go on repeating itself with recurring deadliness: without invention nothing lies under the witch-hazel bush, the alder does not grow from among the hummocks margining the all but spent channel of the old swale, the small foot-prints of the mice under the overhanging tufts of the bunch-grass will not appear: without invention the line will never again take on its ancient divisions when the word, a supple word, lived in it, crumbled now to chalk. From Paterson, Book I1 21.

chalk is composed mostly of the shells of tiny marine creatures.

Questions

W e built no temples. Our cities' woven hair mildewed and frayed. Records of Islam and Chin, battles, swift riders, the ambush, tale of the slain, and the name Jengiz. Wild geese of Yen, peacocks of the Windy Shore. Tall Chutsai sat under the phoenix tree. -That Baghdad banker contracts to double the revenue, him collecting. Four times might be exacted, but such taxation inpoverishes the people. No litigation. The laws were simple. Jengiz: Ghenghis Khan.

IS.

Questions

How much annotation does this poem really need? Does the past's substantiality grow greater or less, or remain unchanged, as the poem progresses? 3. When does hair mildew (line 13)? What does "our cities' woven hair" (line 12) imply about the nature of cities? 4. Into what context does the title and the early part of the poem put the last three lines? 5. Is the poem a lament for past glories, or simply a criticism of the present? Does "We built no temples" imply a criticism of the past also? Consider the nature of the substantial memorials usually left behind by vanished civilizations. I.

2.

I . Many of the various meanings of "line" are relevant here: line of verse, ancestral line, melodic line, the painter's line. Does one of them seem to be primary? What image sponsors the word on its introduction in line 57 2. What does "invention" mean in lines 1-17? HOW does this expand its initial meaning?

VESTIGES Basil Bunting, pub. 1950

LONDON William Blake, 1794

Salt grass silent of hooves, the lake stinks, we take a few small fish from the streams, our children are scabby, chivvied by flies, we cannot read the tombs in the eastern prairie, who slew the Franks, who swam the Yellow River.

I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every Face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

T h e lice have left Temuchin's tent. His ghost cries under north wind, having spent strength in life: life lost, lacks means of death, voice-tost; the horde indistinguishable, worn name weak in fool's jaws.

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In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in ever!^ ban, The mind-forg'd mnnaclcs I hear.

Useful Terms

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

will not matriculate: unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line, the old will go on repeating itself with recurring deadliness : without invention nothing lies under the witch-hazel bush, the alder does not grow from among the hummocks margining the all but spent channel of the old swale, the small foot-prints of the mice under the overhanging tufts of the bunch-grass will not appear: without invention the line will never again take on its ancient divisions when the word, a supple word, lived in it, crumbled now to chalk. From Paterson, Book I1 21.

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chalk is composed mostly of the shells of tiny marine creatures.

Questions

W e built no temples. Our cities' woven hair mildewed and frayed. Records of Islam and Chin, battles, swift riders, the ambush, tale of the slain, and the name Jengiz.

VESTIGES Basil Bunting, pub. 1950

Salt grass silent of hooves, the lake stinks, we take a few small fish from the streams, our children are scabby, chivvied by flies, we cannot read the tombs in the eastern prairie, who slew the Franks, who swam the Yellow River. T h e lice have left Temuchin's tent. His ghost cries under north wind, having spent strength in life: life lost, lacks means of death, voice-tost; the horde indistinguishable, worn name weak in fool's jaws.

'5

Wild geese of Yen, peacocks of the Windy Shore. Tall Chutsai sat under the phoenix tree. -That Baghdad banker contracts to double the revenue, him collecting. Four times might be exacted, but such taxation in~overishesthe people. No litigation. The laws were simple. IS.

Jengiz: Ghenghis Khan.

Questions

How much annotation does this poem really need? Does the past's substantiality grow greater or less, or remain unchanged, as the poem progresses? 3. When does hair mildew (line 13)? What does "our cities' woven hair" (line 12) imply about the nature of cities? 4. Into what context does the title and the early part of the poem put the last three lines? 5. Is the poem a lament for past glories, or simply a criticism of the present? Does "We built no temples" imply a criticism of the past also? Consider the nature of the substantial memorials usually left behind by vanished civilizations. I.

2.

I . Many of the various meanings of "line" are relevant here: line of verse, ancestral line, melodic line, the painter's line. Does one of them seem to be primary? What image sponsors the word on its introduction in line 57 2. What does "invention" mean in lines 1-17? HOW does this expand its initial meaning?

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LONDON William Blake, 1794

I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every Face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of Fear, In every voice, in ever!^ ban, The mind-forg'd mnnaclcs I hear.

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How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls.

This dance has no name. It is a hungry dance. W e dance it out to thc tip of Monsieur's sword, Rcading the lordly language of the inscription, Which is like zithers and tambourines combined:

But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

T h e Founder of the State. Whoever founded A state that was free, in the dead of winter, from mice? What a beautiful tableau tinted and towering, T h e arm of bronze outstretched against all evil!

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Questions I . What does "charter'd" mean? By whom is the Thames chartered? Is the meaning restricted to shippers, water suppliers, and the like? Are rivers in poems usually thought of in terms of legal documents? 2. In an early draft "dirty" appeared in place of "charter'd." Which word is the more effective in the poem? W h y ? 3. What does "black'ning" mean in line IO? Has it more than one meaning? T h e London chimney sweepers in Blake's time were small children. Is the Church, as an institution, appalled by this? Or does Blake mean that the Church should be appalled and isn't? Does "appalls" use some of the meanings of "pall"? 4. W h y is the harlot cursing children and weddings? Has the Wack'ning church" anything to do with her situation? Do the implications of "charter'd" extend to her? W h y "Marriage hearse"? Blake's words say that the youthful harlot's curse blights the marriage hearse with plagues. Can you explain these words so that they will mean exactly what they say, and not simply that she curses weddings? 5. Would "note" or "see" be as exact as "mark in line 3? Would "traces" or "signs" be as exact as "marks" in line 4? Has Blake simply had the bad luck to be forced to repeat a word in two different senses, or does the repeated "mark" somehow help the poem? 6. Are there signs of clumsiness in this poem? of calculated awkwardness? Is Blake attempting to give us "London-as-it-strikes-the-innocentobserver?"

DANCE OF THE MACABRE MlCE Wallace Stevens, 1936

When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, T h e cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks; W h e n turtles tread and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, T h e cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he: 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fcar, Unpleasing to a married ear! From Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii 12,turtles: turtledoves.

12.tread: copulate

(used of birds).

T h e cuckoo lays its eggs in the nests of other birds to be hatched; hencc 3 man whose wife has deceived him is callcd a cuckold. Note the precision of language; the flowcrs and birds arc named, the shcpherds and maidens are doing definite things. Is the definiteness of "paint" (line 4) part of this precision, or does it blur thc line? Does the cuckoo's song seem out of place in the poem? Would it if the "lyrical" parts of the poem were hazier?

I n the land of turkeys in turkey weather At the base of the statue, we go round and round. W h a t a beautiful history, beautiful surprise! Monsieur is on horseback. T h e horse is covered with mice.

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SPRING William Shakespare, c. I 593

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Useful Terms

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls, And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls.

This dance has no name. It is a hungry dance. W e dance it out to the tip of Monsieur's sword, Rcading the lordly language of the inscription, Which is like zithers and tambourines combined:

But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

T h e Founder of the State. Whoever founded A state that was free, in the dead of winter, from mice? What a beautiful tableau tinted and towering, T h e arm of bronze outstretched against all evil!

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Questions

What does "charter'd" mean? By whom is the Thames chartered? Is the meaning restricted to shippers, water suppliers, and the like? Are rivers in poems usually thought of in terms of legal documents? 2. In an early draft "dirty" appeared in place of "charter'd." Which word is the more effective in the poem? Why? 3. What does "black'ning" mean in line IO? Has it more than one meaning? T h e London chimney sweepers in Blake's time were small children. Is the Church, as an institution, appalled by this? O r does Blake mean that the Church should be appalled and isn't? Does "appalls" use some of the meanings of "pall"? 4. Why is the harlot cursing children and weddings? Has the '%Iack'ning church" anything to do with her situation? Do the implications of "charter'd" extend to her? W h y "Marriage hearse"? Blake's words say that the youthful harlot's curse blights the marriage hearse with plagues. Can you explain these words so that they will mean exactly what they say, and not simply that she curses weddings? 5. Would "note" or "see" be as exact as "mark in line 31 Would "traces" or "signs" be as exact as "marks" in line 4? Has Blake simply had the bad luck to be forced to repeat a word in two different senses, or does the repeated "mark" somehow help the poem? 6. Are there signs of clumsiness in this ~ o e m of ? calculated awkwardness? Is Blake attempting to give us "London-as-it-strikes-the-innocentobserver?"

SPRING William Shakeyeare, c. 1593

I.

DANCE OF THE MACABRE MlCE Wallace Stevens, I 936

I n the land of turkeys in turkey weather At the base of the statue, we go round and round. W h a t a beautiful history, beautiful surprise! Monsieur is on horseback. T h e horse is covered with mice.

When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, T h e cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks; When turtles tread and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, T h e cuckoo then on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he: 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fcar, Unpleasing to a married ear! From Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii 12,turtles:

turtledoves.

12.tread: copulate

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(used of birds).

T h e cuckoo lays its eggs in the nests of other birds to be hatched; hencc 3 man whose wife has deceived him is callcd a cuckold. Note the precision of language; the flowcrs and birds arc named, the shepherds and maidens are doing definite things. 1s the clcfinitcness of "paint" (line 4) part of this precision, or does it blur thc line? Does the cuckoo's song seem out of place in the poem? Would it if the "lyrical" parts of the poem were hazier?

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Useful Terms

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W h e n merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay, Twice or thrice his roundelay; Alone and warming his five wits, T h e white owl in the belfry sits.

WINTER William Shakespeare, c. I 593

When icicles hang by the wall. And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nippJdand ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl: 'Tu-who! Tu-whit, tu-who!' a merry note While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. W h e n all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl: 'Tu-who! Tu-whit, tu-who!' a merry note While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. From Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii 9. keel: skim.

It is a safe guess that this early Tennyson poem is a n imitation of Shakespeare's Spring and Winter. Questions I . Is the language as precise as Shakespeare's, or does it merely give an impression of precision? How much does Tennyson make you see? Does "When merry milkmaids click the latch" present as definite a picture as "And maidens bleach their summer smocks"? T h e cock sings a "roundelay." Do Shakespeare's creatures do anything of the kind'; 2. W h y the repetition in lines 4-5 and I 1-12? Does it gain an effect? T h e same effect each time? Are the lines difficult to read aloud convincingly? Is Tennyson more self-conscious ahout using words, less aware of the matter he is presenting? 3. Does the owl, linking cold and warm scenes, produce a blend of feelings similar to that produced by Shakespeare's summer cuckoo? Is his presence, "warming his five wits," faintly comic?

14. crabs: crab apples.

Questions

In the outdoor poem we heard of "maidens" and "shepherds." In the above poem we have Dick, Tom, Joan, and Marian. Why? 2. Do the birds in line 12 feel like the people? Does the owl? W h y is his note "merry"?

SHAKESPEARE Matthew Arnold, I 853

I.

SONG-THE OWL Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 830

When cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round; Alone and warming his five wits, T h e white owl in the belfry sits.

Others abide our question. Thou art free. W e ask and ask : Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill T h a t to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his d ~ e l l i n ~ - ~ l a c e , Spares but the cloudy border of his base T o the foil'd searching of mortality; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-school'd, self-scann'd, self-honour'd, self-secure, Didst walk on earth unguess'd at. Better so!

'The Image: What the Words Actually Name

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56

W h e n merry milkmaids click the latch, And rarely smells the new-mown hay, And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch Twice or thrice his roundelay, Twice or thrice his roundelay; Alone and warming his five wits, T h e white owl in the belfry sits.

WINTER William Shakespeare, c. I 593

When icicles hang by the wall. And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall, And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nippJdand ways be foul, T h e n nightly sings the staring owl: 'Tu-who! Tu-whit, tu-who!' a merry note While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. W h e n all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, T h e n nightly sings the staring owl: 'Tu-who! Tu-whit, tu-who!' a merry note While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. From Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii g . keel: skim.

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14. crabs:

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It is a safe guess that this early Tennyson poem is a n imitation of Shakespeare's Spring and Winter. Questions I . Is the language as precise as Shakespeare's, or does it merely give an impression of precision? How much does Tennyson make you see? Does "When merry milkmaids click the l a t c h present as definite a picture as "And maidens bleach their summer smocks"? T h e cock sings a "roundelay." Do Shakespeare's creatures do anything of the kind? 2. W h y the repetition in lines 4-5 and I 1-12? Does it gain an effect? T h e same effect each time? Are the lines difficult to read aloud convincingly? Is Tennyson more self-conscious ahout using words, less aware of the matter he is presenting? 3. Does the owl, linking cold and warm scenes, produce a blend of feelings similar to that produced by Shakespeare's summer cuckoo? IS his presence, "warming his five wits," faintly comic?

crab apples.

Questions

In the outdoor poem we heard of "maidens" and "shepherds." In the above poem we have Dick, Tom, Joan, and Marian. Why? 2. Do the birds in line 12 feel like the people? Does the owl? W h y is his note "merry"? I.

SONG-THE OWL Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 830

When cats run home and light is come, And dew is cold upon the ground, And the far-off stream is dumb, And the whirring sail goes round, And the whirring sail goes round; Alone and warming his five wits, T h e white owl in the belfry sits.

SHAKESPEARE Matthew Arnold, I 853

Others abide our question. Thou art free. W e ask and ask : Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill T h a t to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwellingplace, Spares but the cloudy border of his base T o the foil'd searching of mortality; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-school'd, self-scann'd, self-honour'd, self-secure, Didst walk on earth unguess'd at. Better so!

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Eyes in this island see Ships anchor off the bay. Shall I run to the ships With the wind in my hair, Or stay till the day I die And welcome no sailor? Ships, hold you poison or grapes?

All pains the immortal spirit must endure, All weakness that impairs, all griefs that bow, Find their sole speech in that victorious brow. Questions I . Examine the picture suggested by line 5. Would the image be better if Arnold had written "feet"? How did he come to write "footsteps"? 2. Does line 6 (which is still about a hill) mean what it says? Does line 14? In what sense can a "brow" be victorious? Does a victorious brow speak? Can things "find speechu in it? 3. What does line 9 mean? 4. Has Arnold at any point in the poem got his mind on what his words claim to be talking about? 5. O n e must distinguish between the official theme of the ~oern-the grandeur Arnold attributes to Shakespeare-and what the words are saying. 6. Is Tennyson's or Arnold's the more significant homage?

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Hands grumble on the door, Ships anchor off the bay, Rain beats the sand and slates. Shall I let in the stranger, Shall I welcome the sailor, O r stay till the day I die? Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships, Hold you poison or grapes? Questions

W h a t is "this island"? (Consider lines 10-12.) Is this image being held firmly before the reader's attention throughout the poem, or is it merely touched on to help suggest inviolable privacy? I.

EARS IN THE TURRETS HEAR

Dylan Thomas, 1936 Ears in the turrets hear Hands grumble on the door, Eyes in the gables see T h e fingers at the locks. Shall I unbolt or stay Alone till the day I die Unseen by stranger-eyes I n this white house? Hands, hold you poison or grapes? Beyond this island bound By a thin sea of flesh And a bone coast, T h e land lies out of sound And the hills out of mind. No bird or flying fish Disturbs this island's rest. Ears in this island hear T h e wind pass like a fire,

2.

A GRAVE

Marianne Moore, c. r 9 I 8 Man looking into the sea, taking the view from those who have as much right to it as you have to it yourself, it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing, but you cannot stand in the middle of this; the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave. T h e firs stand in a procession, each with an emerald turkey-foot at the top, reserved as their contours, saying nothing; repression, however, is not the most obvious characteristic of the sea; the sea is a collector, quick to return a rapacious look. There are others besides you who have worn that lookwhose expression is no longer a protest; the fish no longer investigate them

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for their bones have not lasted: men lower nets, unconscious of the fact that they are desecrating a grave, and row quickly away-the blades of the oars moving together like the feet of water-spiders as if there were no such thing as death. T h e wrinkles progress among themselves in a phalanx-beautiful under networks of foam, and fade breathlessly while the sea rustles in and out of the seaweed; the birds swim through the air at top speed, emitting catcalls as heretoforethe tortoise-shell scourges about the feet of the cliffs, in motion beneath them; and the ocean, under the pulsation of lighthouses and the noise of bell-buoys, advances as usual, looking as if it were not that ocean in which dropped things are bound to sinkin which if they turn and twist, it is neither with volition nor consciousness.

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A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL AND BODY

Andrew Marvellj1621-1678),pub. 1 6 8 1 Soul 0 who shall, from this Dungeon, raise

Body 0 who shall me deliver whole, From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?

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Soul

T h e poem makes a fresh beginning at lines 6 and 16. Does each of these three parts contain a similar contrast of ideas? Are all three necessary? Is their order important?

A Soul inslav'd so many ways? With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands I n Feet; and manacled in Hands. Here blinded with an Eye; and there, Deaf with the drumming of an Ear. A Soul hung up, as 'twere, in Chains Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins. Tortur'd, besides each other part, In a vain Head, and double Heart.

Which, stretcht upright, impales me so, That mine own Precipice I go; And warms and moves this needless Frame: (A Fever could but do the same.) And, wanting where its spite to try, Has made me live to let me die. A Body that could never rest, Since this ill Spirit it possest.

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What Magic could me thus confine Within another's Grief to pine? Where whatsoever it complain, I feel, that cannot feel, the pain. And all my care its self employs, That to preserve, which me destroys: Constrain'd not only to endure Diseases, but what's worse, the Cure: And ready oft the Port to gain, Am Shipwrackt into Health again.

Body But Physic yet could never reach T h e Maladies thou dost me teach; Whom the first Cramp of Hope dost tear: And then the Palsy shakes of Fear. T h e Pestilence of Love does heat: Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat. Joy's cheerful Madness does perplex: Or Sorrow's other Madness vex. Which Knowledge forces me to know, And Memory will not forgo. What but a Soul could have the wit T o build me up for Sin so fit? So Architects do square and hew, Green Trees that in the Forest grew. In lines 41-42 the Body blames its propensity for sinning on the Soul, which will not let it remain a contented animal. Now examine the image in the last two lines. Does the architect improve the tree? Would the tree have been better off in the forest? Would the architect have been better off if he had let it alone? How much implication can you find in the word "green"? What is lost if you change this word to "strongu or "great"?

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Does Marvel1 intend the case made out by either speaker to be final and convincing? W h y or why not?

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Yes, and no strength exerted on the heat Then sinews the abolished will, when sick And full of burning, it will whistle on a brick.

MR. EDWARDS AND THE SPIDER

But who can plumb the sinking of that soul? Josiah Hawley, picture yourself cast Into a brick-kiln where the blast Fans your quick vitals to a coalIf measured by a glass, How long would it seem burning! Let there pass A minute, ten, ten trillion; but the blaze Is infinite, eternal: this is death, T o die and know it. This is the Black Widow, death.

Robert Lowell, c. 1944 I saw the spiders marching through the air, Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed day In latter August when the hay Came creaking to the barn. But where T h e wind is westerly, Where gnarled November makes the spiders fly Into the apparitions of the sky, They purpose nothing but their ease and die Urgently beating east to sunrise and the sea;

Jonathan Edwards, 170391758, New England theologian. THE FUNERAL

W h a t are we in the hands of the great God? It was in vain you set up thorn and briar In battle array against the fire And treason crackling in your blood; For the wild thorns grow tame And will do nothing to oppose the flame; Your lacerations tell the losing game You play against a sickness past your cure. How will the hands be strong? How will the heart endure? A very little thing, a little worm, Or hourglass-blazoned spider, it is said, Can kill a tiger. Will the dead Hold up his mirror and affirm T o the four winds the smell And flash of his authority? It's well If God who holds you to the pit of hell, Much as one holds a spider, will destroy, Baffle and dissipate your soul. As a small boy O n Windsor Marsh, I saw the spider die When thrown into the bowels of fierce fire: There's no long struggle, no desire T o get up on its feet and flyIt stretches out its feet And dies. This is the sinner's last retreat;

10

I5

John Donne, c. I 600 Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm; T h e mystery, the sign you must not touch, For 'tis my outward Soul, Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control, And keep these limbs, her Provinces, from dissolution. For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall Through every part, Can tie those parts, and make me one of all; These hairs which upward grew, and strength and art Have from a better brain, Can better do it; Except she meant that I By this should know my pain, AS prisoners then are manacled, when they're condemned to die. Whate'er she meant by it, bury it with me, For since I am Love's martvr, it might breed idolatry, 1f'into others' hands these Reliques came; As 'twas humility 14.

except: unless.

'5

64

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Useful Terms

T o afford to it all that a Soul can do, SO,'tis some bravery, That since you would save none of me, I bury some of you. 2 3 . bravery: bravado, spirit.

THE RELIQUE

John Donne, c.

I 600

When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain, (For graves have learn'd that woman-head T o be to more than one a Bed) And he that digs it, spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, Will he not let us alone, And think that there a happy couple lies, W h o thought that this device might be some way T o make their souls, at the last busy day, Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?

Questions I . T h e same author as the preceding poem, and the same bizarre focus of attention. Is the bracelet made of her hair brought to our attention more dramatically in T h e Funeral or in T h e Relique? By what means? For what reason? If line 6 of T h e Relique were transplanted into the first stanza of T h e Funeral, what would it do to the prevailing tone? 2 . Since T h e Funeral is addressed throughout to "whoever comes to shroud me," why does the last line not read "That since she would save none of me, I bury some of her"? What dramatic effect is Donne after? 3. Is stanza 3 of T h e Relique a disguised complaint about the lady's aloofness? "Angels" (line 26) are androgynous; and note in connection with lines 24-25 the traditional conception of sexual activity as a mode of knowledge (cf. the common Biblical idiom, "And he knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare a son. . . .") Does line 8 contain the implication that they are finally happy now that they share a grave? 4. Mary Magdalen (line 17) washed Jesus' feet and dried them with her hair. Before her association with Jesus her reputation was dubious.

SONG FROM A PLAY

If this fall in a time, or land Where mis-devotion doth command, Then, he that digs us up, will bring Us, to the Bishop, and the King, T o make us Reliques; then Thou shalt be a Mary Magdalen, and I A something else thereby: All women shall adore us, and some men; And since at such time, miracles are sought, I would have that age by this paper taught What miracles we harmless lovers wrought.

W i l l i a m Butler Yeats, 1919 A woman's beauty is like a white Frail bird, like a white sea-bird alone At daybreak after stormy night Between two furrows upon the ploughed land: A sudden storm, and it was thrown Between dark furrows upon the ploughed land. How many centuries spent T h e sedentary soul In toils of measurement Beyond eagle or mole, Beyond hearing or seeing, O r Archimedes' guess, T o raise into being T h a t loveliness?

First, we lov'd well and faithfully, Yet knew not what we loved, nor why; Difference of sex no more we knew, T h a n our Guardian Angels do; Coming and going, we Perchance might kiss, but not between those meals; Our hands ne'er toucht the seals Which nature, injur'd by late law, sets free: Thcse miracles we did; but now alas, All measure, and all language, I should pass, Should I tell what a miracle she was.

64

A strange, unserviceable thing, A fragile, exquisite, pale shell, That the vast troubled waters bring T o the loud sands before day has broken.

The Image: What the Words Actually Name

Useful Terms

T o afford to it all that a Soul can do, SO,'tis some bravery, That since you would save none of me, I bury some of you. 2 3 . bravery: bravado, spirit.

THE RELIQUE

J o h n Donne, c.

I 600

When my grave is broke up again Some second guest to entertain, (For graves have learn'd that woman-head T o be to more than one a Bed) And he that digs it, spies A bracelet of bright hair about the bone, Will he not let us alone, And think that there a happy couple lies, W h o thought that this device might be some way T o make their souls, at the last busy day, Meet at this grave, and make a little stay?

If this fall in a time, or land Where mis-devotion doth command, Then, he that digs us up, will bring Us, to the Bishop, and the King, T o make us Reliques; then Thou shalt be a Mary Magdalen, and I A something else thereby: All women shall adore us, and some men; And since at such time, miracles are sought, I would have that age by this paper taught What miracles we harmless lovers wrought. First, we lov'd well and faithfully, Yet knew not what we loved, nor why; Difference of sex no more we knew, T h a n our Guardian Angels do; Coming and going, we Perchance might kiss, but not between those meals; Our hands ne'er toucht the seals Which nature, injur'd by late law, sets free: Thcse miracles we did; but now alas, All measure, and all language, I should pass, Should I tell what a miracle she was.

65

65

Questions I . T h e same author as the preceding poem, and the same bizarre focus of attention. Is the bracelet made of her hair brought to our attention more dramatically in T h e Funeral or in T h e Relique? By what means? For what reason? If line 6 of T h e Relique were transplanted into the first stanza of T h e Funeral, what would it do to the prevailing tone? 2. Since T h e Funeral is addressed throughout to "whoever comes to shroud me,'' why does the last line not read "That since she would save none of me, I bury some of her"? W h a t dramatic effect is Donne after? 3. Is stanza 3 of T h e Relique a disguised complaint about the lady's aloofness? "Angels" (line 26) are androgynous; and note in connection with lines 24-25 the traditional conception of sexual activity as a mode of knowledge (cf. the common Biblical idiom, "And he knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare a son. . . .") Does line 8 contain the implication that they are finally happy now that they share a grave? 4. Mary Magdalen (line 17) washed Jesus' feet and dried them with her hair. Before her association with Jesus her reputation was dubious.

SONG FROM A PLAY

Willianz Butler Yeats, 1919 A woman's beauty is like a white Frail bird, like a white sea-bird alone At daybreak after stormy night Between two furrows upon the ploughed land: A sudden storm, and it was thrown Between dark furrows upon the ploughed land. How many centuries spent T h e sedentary soul In toils of measurement Beyond eagle or mole, Beyond hearing or seeing, O r Archimedes' guess, T o raise into being That loveliness? A strange, unserviceable thing, A fragile, exquisite, pale shell, That the vast troubled waters bring T o the loud sands before day has broken.

66

Useful Terms

T h e storm arose and suddenlly fell Amid the dark before day had broken. What death? what discipline? What bonds no man could unbind, Being imagined within T h e labyrinth of the mind, What pursuing or fleeing, What wounds, what bloody press, Dragged into being This loveliness? From The Only Jealousy of Emer

nnnnn

T h e first two lines sound conventionally romantic; but line 4 strands the sea bird in an alien context, and line 5 exposes the real theme of the poem by stressing the storms obscured by night that have "thrown" the sea bird in poignant isolation into the realm of ploughmen. Lines 7-14 shift our attention from the storm's violence to images of slow development; this process is analogous to the storm in having occurred before the frail thing is presented. Do the specific notes-two furrows, eagle and mole, Archimedes' name -confuse or help control the large portentousness of the theme? Why "toils of measurement" (line g)? T h e aerodynamics of flight? T h e proportions of beauty? The word is surprising. Is it jarring? Archimedes was a Greek mathematician; he spoke of moving the earth with his lever, if he had a place to stand. W h y are these "toils of measurement" beyond his guess? Is his dream of moving the earth relevant to the theme of the poem? What is the force of "raise" (line 13) -raise as a building? as a monument? Is "measurement" still a relevant conception by the end of the stanza? Bird, storm, and measurement give way to shell, storm, and violence. Like stanza I , stanza 2 has subtle internal connections, for instance, between shell and labyrinth (line 24). In repeating its structure, does the second stanza repeat the content of the first? Consider the greater body and drama of its images; not measurement, but bonds, fleeing, wounds; not the planning of beauty, but its gestation. Shells are dragged ashore by waves; but "dragged in line 27 is also an image of human ruthlessness, and a birth-image.

Rhythm and Sound

T h e words of verse move in rhythm, which may be anything from ti T U M (

ti T U M l

I NEJ ver SAW1

ti T U M J ti T U M l a P U R J ~ l COW1 e

to the most intricate arrangement of stresses: When, when, and whenever death closes our eyelids, Moving naked over Acheron TJpon the one raft, victor and conquered together, Marius and Jugurtha together, one tangle of shadows. . .

.

(You will sometimes hear writing like this referred to as "free verse." This term survives from forty years ago, when new elaborate rhythms were puzzlillg ears long trained to a rocking-horse beat. It is easier now to see that verse is never "free" if it has any life at all.) It is a common mistake to suppose that "normal" verse moves, as nearly as the poet can manage, with mechanical regularity:

HOWSWEET

the MOON- light SLEEPS1 up-ON1 this BANK1 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. -William Shakespeare One wouldn't speak the first line the way it has been printed above. 67

k

68

Rhythm and Sound

Useful Terms

There is no reason to speak it so, simply because it occurs in a passage of verse.

TOmany a youth, and many

a maid Dancing in the chequer'd shade. . .

69

.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! From I1 PENSEROSO Probably "the" and "up" are the only really unobtrusive syllables. How (the) (up)6n

sweet m o o n l i g h t this bink!

s l e e p s

"Bank" gets a decided emphasis (accent); "-light" gets rather a prolongation than an accent; "sleepsJ' may be said to get some of both. T h e usual systems for classifying English rhythms tend to assume that only accent need be taken into account. For limited purposes of classification it is sometimes useful to say that Shakespeare's verse "normally" has ten syllables per line, the alternate ones stressed, but you would search through the plays a long time to find a line that really went like that.

John Milton, c. 163I Or if the air will not permit, Some still removild place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, T o bless the doors from nightly harm. .

. .

O n e simple rhythmic device serves to change the lively movement of

L'Allegro into the pensive mode of I1 Penseroso. Examine the two samples until you can say exactly what thls device is.

Song from THE BEGGAR'S OPERA John Gay, 1728

VIRTUE

George Herbert Before the barn-door crowing, T h e Cock by Hens attended, His eyes around him throwing, Stands for a while suspended: Then one he singles from the crew, And cheers the happy Hen, With how do you do, and how do you do, And how do you do again. What happens to the rhythm at line 5? Why?

From L'ALLEGRO

John Milton, c. 163I Sometimes with secure delight T h e upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound 4.

rebeck: fiddle.

(I

593-~633)p b . 1633

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, T h e bridal of the earth and sky; T h e dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye; T h y root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie; My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.

70

Rhythm and Sound

Useful Terms

"Close" (line I I ) is a technical term for the final cadence in a piece of music. Like the lines of I1 Penseroso, these are eight-syllable lines with stresses on the even-numbered syllables. Do you think they should be read so as to emphasize this pattern? (Try it.) Do they move with the same speed as Milton's lines?

H E R E is no1

WAter but1

ONly

1

71

ROCK

and within three lines the rhythm has moved all the way to T h e r6ad winding ab6ve am6ng the m6untains Why do you think the initial rhythm is broken so rapidly? If line 6 read

From THE WASTE LAND

T. S . Eliot,

1922

Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road T h e road winding above among the mountains Which are mountains of rock without water If there were water we should stop and drink Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand If there were only water amongst the rock Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit There is not even silence in the mountains But dry sterile thunder without rain There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses If there were water And no rock If there were rock And also water And water A spring A pool among the rock If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada And dry grass singing But sound of water over a rock Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water

Amongst the rock one has no time for thought or if line

read Here one can neither sit nor lie nor stand

5

10

would the passage be damaged? Are we merely being told the same thing over and over, or does the rhythm enact some development of feeling? How should line 30 be read? Does its meaning-including the emotion of the speaker-duplicate that of line I ? Rhythm doesn't by its mere presence make interesting verse. It is when the poet puts it to intelligent use that torpid words leap. In its simplest use, rhythm binds into its pattern and renders unmistakable the varying degrees of stress which the words require to make the sense perfectly plain. When the guards make for the ghost of Hamlet's father with pikes, Marcellus might say, 'Wait a minute, we shouldn't treat it like that. We're making a mistake to threaten such a majestic figure with common weapons. W e can't hurt it any more than we can hurt the air. Our violence is empty and stupid; petty malice, and useless besides." Shakespeare makes him say, W e do it wrong, being so majestical, T o offer it the show of violence; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery.

Read this passage aloud until you are sure you can bring out the conltantly changing rhythms. It starts with a marked chant:

70

II

Verse enables him to compress this speech to twenty-seven words with perfect clarity, and to convey besides in the ordered march of syllables

Rhythm and Sound

Useful Terms

"Close" (line I I ) is a technical term for the final cadence in a piece of music. Like the lines of I1 Penseroso, these are eight-syllable lines with stresses on the even-numbered syllables. Do you think they should be read so as to emphasize this pattern? (Try it.) Do they move with the same speed as Milton's lines?

H E R E is no1

WAter but1

ONly

1

71

ROCK

and within three lines the rhythm has moved all the way to T h e r6ad winding ab6ve am6ng the m6untains Why do you think the initial rhythm is broken so rapidly? If line 6 read

From THE WASTE LAND

T . S . Eliot,

1922

Here is no water but only rock Rock and no water and the sandy road T h e road winding above among the mountains Which are mountains of rock without water If there were water we should stop and drink Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand If there were only water amongst the rock Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit There is not even silence in the mountains But dry sterile thunder without rain There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses If there were water And no rock If there were rock And also water And water A spring A pool among the rock If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada And dry grass singing But sound of water over a rock Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water

Amongst the rock one has no time for thought or if line

II

read Here one can neither sit nor lie nor stand

5

10

I5

20

25

30

Read this passage aloud until you are sure you can bring out the con~tantlychanging rhythms. It starts with a marked chant:

would the passage be damaged? Are we merely being told the same thing over and over, or does the rhythm enact some development of feeling? How should line 30 be read? Does its meaning-including the emotion of the speaker-duplicate that of line I ? Rhythm doesn't by its mere presence make interesting verse. It is when the poet puts it to intelligent use that torpid words leap. In its simplest use, rhythm binds into its pattern and renders unmistakable the varying degrees of stress which the words require to make the sense perfectly plain. W h e n the guards make for the ghost of Hamlet's father with pikes, Marcellus might say, "Wait a minute, we shouldn't treat it like that. We're making a mistake to threaten such a majestic figure with common weapons. W e can't hurt it any more than we can hurt the air. Our violence is empty and stupid; petty malice, and useless besides." Shakespeare makes him say, W e do it wrong, being so majestical, T o offer it the show of violence; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery. Verse enables him to compress this speech to twenty-seven words with perfect clarity, and to convey besides in the ordered march of syllables

72

Rhythm and Sound

Useful Terms

O n the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the restI too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire. T h e time is now propitious, as he guesses, T h e meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit

a good deal of ceremonious respect that has leaked out of our prose paraphrase. Each group of words ("We do it wrong," "as the air," and so on) is marked off by one rhythmic device or another, and the structure of the single complex sentence is perfectly clear at one hearing. Shakespeare was writing for a theater audience and had to be clear at one hearing, however complex his meaning. That is one reason his verse technique developed so rapidly. T o start grasping the sense of a passage of verse, READ IT ALOUD AND TRUST THE RHYTHM. If on repeated trials the rhythm gives no support, there is probably something wrong, either with the verse or with your reading. Bernard Shaw's theater prose is also perfectly clear at one hearing, but he has far less complex material to convey with each speech, and gets infinitely less onto a page than does Shakespeare. I n particular, the feelings Shaw's highly accomplished prose can convey are of diagrammatic simplicity. Not only does verse get more onto a page; there are some kinds of meaning that can't be communicated at all unless they are communicated as rapidly as only verse can manage. T h e elements of the "moonlight" speech on page 67 would convey no charge if they were spread out through a paragraph. (Try it.) You have to bring the wires close together to get a spark. You have to juxtapose images to get more than a bare meaning. W h e n you do this, rhythm keeps the sense from clotting. This account omits the pleasure that rhythm gives in its own right. But this pleasure is never at its highest unless rhythm cooperates with the sense of the words.

...

She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass : "Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over." When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.

From THE WASTE LAND T . S. Eliot, 1922

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back T u r n upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting, I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, T h e typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,

73

Tiresias was a blind Greek seer who had had experience of the life of both sexes. H e told Oedipus why the curse had fallen on Thebes, and was sought out in the kingdom of the dead by Odysseus, who wanted to learn the way home. Questions

What effect is produced by rhythmical means in line 37 in line 137 What effect is produced by the rhymes, especially from line 13 to the end? W h y does the rhyme scheme break down at lines 33-34? I.

I0

2.

74

Useful Terms THE DARK THAT WAS IS HERE

Eli Siegel, 1953 A girl, in ancient Greece, Be sure, had no more peace Than one in Idaho. T o feel and yet to know Was hard in Athens, too. I'm sure confusion grew I n Nika's mind as she, While wanting to be free, Hoped deeply to adore Someone; and so no more Be wretched and alone. -Ah, hear the keen, wise moan Of wind at twilight, past Old trees, which darken fast. That wind was heard, that blur Of trees was seen by her Of Attica.-The sound Of wind on dry, cool ground Once more is heard by girl, Vl'ith heart in autumn whirl. T h e trees stand up in grey; It is their ancient wayAll this in Idaho, Where grieving girls now go I n mingled love and fear. T h e dark that was is here. There is extraordinary rhythmic variety in these very short lines; compare line 5 with line 10. One function of the rhymes is to emphasize the shortness of the lines. Like the girls, the words move between very narrow limits. In the first line ("A girl, in ancient Greece") we encounter alliteration (neighboring syllables beginning with the same sound). Can you find other examples? Elsewhere we find numerous examples of assonance (similarity of sound, falling short of absolute rhyme): for instance, "trees" and "seen" in line 16. This extends to such slight details as the chime of adjacent vowels (e.g., "Nika's mind," line 7). T o what extent do you think this dense patterning of sound determines the feeling of the poem?

. n n m Meter

R h y t h m is inescapable. phjas&

T K ~ mgst

I--

I "

f

f

--

casual everyday speech /falls into

/ - I - - /

/ wyth ascertainable rhyth&s.

Meter (from the Greek word for measure) denotes the interligent control of rhythm. It does not occur by accident. T h e rhythms of speech, even highly deliberate speech, are largely accidental. A good prose writer is aware of various rhythmic devices he can use / to group / or enforce / his meanings. / H e will not use them conspicuously, / because part of the decorum of modern prose / is its pretense of being.- casual speech / I

I

I

l

with the false starts left out. / Prose approaches verse as the rhythms inherent in all manifestations of language are put to more and more deliberate use. When we are in the presence of verse it is no longer sufficient to say that intelligent use is being made of rhythmic patterns that crop up here and there. Verse is built out of rhythmic units. It is not necessarily true to say that the rhythms of verse are more regular (i.e., more repetitious) than those of prose. They may not even draw attention to their presence, though they generally do. T h e essential truth is that the? function continually, not spasmodically. T h e Greek grammarians noted that lines of verse are built out of rhythmic units, and gave names to a number of ~ossiblekinds of units or "feet." There is no poem that knowledge of these names will help you to understand or appreciate. T h e value of making their acquaintance is to sharpen your perception. When you know of the metrical phenomenon called a "spondee" you are more likely to be aware of its presence and function in the poem you are reading. 75

76

Useful Terms

Meter

That time / of year / thou mayst / in me / behold

Ever through the burning distance

Obviously either the first syllable or the second of a pair may be the more prominent; or both may assert themselves. T h e easiest kind of prominence to recognize is imparted by accent. Anyone can tell that the word "double" or the phrase "beat it" is accented on the first syllable, the word "afraid" or the phrase "be gone" on the second. A foot like "double" ( " ) is called a trochee, or trochaic foot. A foot like "afraid" ( " ) is called an iamb, or iambic foot. T h e iamb is probably the commonest rhythmic unit in English verse. Note that the amount of difference between the accented and unaccented syllables may vary. T h e word "pilgrim" is trochaic, but the contrast between the two syllables is much less marked than in "double." 'n the same way, the word "except" is iambic, but less markedly so than 'afraid." If you don't hear these distinctions, you are not pronouncing the words clearly. There are probably no words with two adjoining equally accented cyllables, though a word like "upend" comes pretty close. A better example is a phrase like "gold cup" or "dry rot." Such a foot ( " ) is called r spondee, or spondaic foot. One is normally concerned with the rhythms of lines, not words.

is a trochaic line:

I

EV er ( T H R O U G H the ( B U R N ing DIS tance

It is worth noticing that the presence of the metrical pattern tends to affect the accents words normally have. If you change "through" in the receding example to "in," you have, as far as normal speech is concerned, replaced an accented syllable by an unobtrusive one:

1

SO, SO I BREAK O F F I this LAST I la M E N T 1 ing KISS WHICH SUCKS 1 TWO SOULS 1 and VA 1 pors BOTH 1 a WAY It could also be argued that these are iambic lines in which the accents in the opening feet approach equivalence; but that seems to point to a less effective way of reading them. One also discovers lines of verse built out of three-syllable units. When the accent is on the first syllable, ( ) the foot is called a dactj~l,or dactylic foot, as in "pottery." When the accent is on the last syllable, ( " " ) the foot is called an anapest, or anapestic foot, as in "intervene." There are all sorts of fine shadings: "undermine," for instance, has a secondary accent on the first syllable, partly deriving from our awareness of the normal accenting of "under."

"-

1

MAZE ( but NOT with O U T a PLAN.

If one is interested in reading the line rather than forcing it into a pattern, one begins

1

I DIS tance

But if the reader has caught the governing rhythm of the passage, he will tend to give 'Pn" the accent suggested by the surrounding pattern. Spondaic lines of any length are not found; but one may come upon two or three spondaic feet in succession:

is an iambic line. By this we mean, not that it is composed of iambic words ("mightyn is not an iambic word) but that one feels a prevailingly iambic rhythm governing the line, even though printing it in a way that draws attention to this fact will falsify the normal way of reading it:

(y

I

EV er in the B U R N ing

A mighty maze, but not without a plan

A MIGHT

77

(Even experienced readers cannot always feel sure of the governing rhythm of single lines, but normally one has a passage of some length to inspect.)

Many lines of verse reveal themselves to have been built mainly out of two-syllable units:

1

a mighty maze,

Christopher Robin goes hoppity hoppity

and pauses more markedly after "maze" than at any other point in the line. Good poets constantly play the speech rhythm against the formal pattern in this way. T o be fully aware of such effects one must be able to recognize what the underlying pattern is. This is the main use of being aware of metrical types.

is a dactylic line, a type rare except for comic effects. For other purposes the last foot is normally brought to a more abrupt halt: I

Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat.

78

Meter

Useful Terms

T u r n thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, And let our selves benight our happiest day. W e ask'd none leave to Love, nor will we owe Any, so cheap a death, as saying, Go;

An example of an anapestic line is:

. ..

Where the blue of the night meets the gold of the day

Mnemonic Trochee trips from long to short; From long to long in solemn sort I Slow Spondee stalks; strong foot! yea ill able Ever to come up with Dactyl's trisyllable. Iambics march from short to long; With a leap and a bound the swift Anapests throng. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge in

Metrical Feet: Lesson for a Boy

It cannot be too much emphasized that the main use of knowing these elements is to help you listen for the underlying rhythms of the verse you happen to be reading. You will never meet a pure case of any of them. For that matter, you will never encounter a round face, though the term is helpful; and if the idea of a circle had never been defined for you, you might not be clearly aware of how a round face differs from a long one, even though the existence of some sort of difference is evident to the eye. T h e term "iambic foot" has the same sort of status as the term "round face." In the anapestic example given above, "blue" and "gold are more prominent than the other accented words, "night" and "day"; "meets" is accented in speech but subdued by the meter; and "where," the key word of the line, is slighted by the official metrical pattern. With a sufficiently elaborate system of marks and names it is ~ossibleto affix labels to most of the things that happen in lines of verse, and construct uninteresting models of them, but the usefulness of this procedure is not evident.

5

Go; and if that word have not quite kill'd thee, Ease me with death, by bidding me go too. Oh, if it have, let my word work on me, And a just office on a murderer do. Except it be too late, to kill me so, Being double dead, going, and bidding, go. Questions I . What is the literal meaning of "expiration"? (See a good dictionary.) 2. At how many points in the poem do two or more long syllables occur in succession? T o see how important these effects are, try altering some of them; for instance, change the second "so" in line I to "then." Is the poem destroyed by such changes, or just weakened? 3. What does the last line mean? Is what the poem says of interest in itself, or does it need to be surrounded and propped u p by the effects of sound?

THE LOVER FOR SHAMEFASTNESS HIDETH HIS DESIRE WITHIN HIS FAITHFUL HEART

Sir Thomas W y a t t (1503-1542) pub. 1577 T h e long love that in my thought doth harbour, And in mine heart doth keep his residence, Into my face presseth with bold pretence, And therein campeth, spreading his banner. She that me learneth to love and suffer, And wills that my trust and lustes negligence Be reigned by reason, shame, and reverence, With his hardiness taketh displeasure. Wherewith all unto the heart's forest he fleeth, Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry, And there him hideth, and not appeareth.

Listen to the way the verse moves. "Rhythm is form cut into time." -EZRA POUND

THE EXPIRATION

John Donne, c. 1600

79

5. learneth: teacheth.

6 . lustes: a possessive but pronounced as two syllables, as we have indicated by dot-

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls. and vapors both away,

78

ting the e. "Lust" until the seventeenth century meant simply "desire," without

the modem connotation of ignobility.

Meter

Useful Terms

Turn thou ghost that way, and let me turn this, And let our selves benight our happiest day. W e ask'd none leave to Love, nor will we owe Any, so cheap a death, as saying, Go;

An example of an anapestic line is: Where the blue of the night meets the gold of the day

. ..

Mnemonic Trochee trips from long to short; From long to long in solemn sort slow Spondee stalks; strong foot! yea ill able Ever to come up with Dactyl's trisyllable. Iambics march from short to long; With a leap and a bound the swift Anapests throng. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge in Metrical Feet: Lesson for a Boy

It cannot be too much emphasized that the main use of knowing these elements is to help you listen for the underlying rhythms of the verse you happen to be reading. You will never meet a pure case of any of them. For that matter, you will never encounter a round face, though the term is helpful; and if the idea of a circle had never been defined for you, you might not be clearly aware of how a round face differs from a long one, even though the existence of some sort of difference is evident to the eye. T h e term "iambic foot" has the same sort of status as the term "round face." In the anapestic example given above, "blue" and "gold" are more prominent than the other accented words, "night" and "day"; "meets" is accented in speech but subdued by the meter; and "where," the key word of the line, is slighted by the official metrical pattern. With a sufficiently elaborate system of marks and names it is possible to affix labels to most of the things that happen in lines of verse, and construct uninteresting models of them, but the usefulness of this procedure is not evident.

Listen to the way the verse moves. "Rhythm is form cut into time." -EZRA POUND

THE EXPIRATION

John Donne, c. 1600

79

5

Go; and if that word have not quite kill'd thee, Ease me with death, by bidding me go too. Oh, if it have, let my word work on me, And a just office on a murderer do. Except it be too late, to kill me so, Being double dead, going, and bidding, go. Questions I . What is the literal meaning of "expiration"? (See a good dictionary.) 2. At how many points in the poem do two or more long syllables occur in succession? T o see how important these effects are, try altering some of them; for instance, change the second "so" in line I to "then." Is the poem destroyed by such changes, or just weakened? 3. What does the last line mean? Is what the poem says of interest in itself, or does it need to be surrounded and propped up by the effects of sound?

THE LOVER FOR SHAMEFASTNESS HIDETH HIS DESIRE WITHIN HIS FAITHFUL HEART

Sir Thomas W y a t t (1503-1542) pub. 1577 T h e long love that in my thought doth harbour, And in mine heart doth keep his residence, Into my face presseth with bold pretence, And therein campeth, spreading his banner. She that me learneth to love and suffer, And wills that my trust and lustes negligence Be reigned by reason, shame, and reverence, W i t h his hardiness taketh displeasure. Wherewith all unto the heart's forest he fleeth, Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry, And there him hideth, and not appeareth. 5. learneth: teacheth.

6. lustes: a possessive but pronounced as two syllables, as we have indicated by dot-

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls. and vapors both away,

ting the e. "Lust" until the seventeenth century meant simply "desire," without the modem connotation of ignobility.

80

Useful Terms

Meter

What may I do when my master feareth, But in the field with him to live and die? For good is the life, ending faithfully. Questions I . Line 7 is very nearly a "normal" iambic pentameter line (pentameter, five feet). Do any other lines in the poem approach this norm very closely? 2. Where do you pause in reading line I ? A marked pause like this within a line is called a caesura (Latin for a cut; compare the English word '(scissors"). Mark the caesurae throughout the poem. Is there one in every line? Are they equally prominent whenever they occur? 3. Unlike Donne's T h e Expiration, this poem is relatively free of sonorous words. What effect do the flat sounds and the caesurae have on the tone of this poem? Is one meant to pay close attention to a deliberate and complex explanation in this poem? in Donne's? 4. T r y to accent line 14 so that it doesn't sound like an anticlimax. 5. Compare the tone of this poem and Donne's. Do rhythm and sound help determine it?

81

I . Mark the caesurae throughout the poem. Are they more regularly placed than the ones in Wyatt's poem? 2. From the rhythms especially, which poet do you think was the more interested in the meaning he was engaged with? 3. T h e sense of the last three lines is rather different in the two versions. W h a t feeling is conveyed by Wyatt's ending? by Surrey's?

THE DARK ANGEL

Maximilian Slump, I958 T h e mourners stand around the bed. T h e sun has gone behind the hill. T h e trees are very dark and still. T h e hearse has parked beside the gate. A cat reposing on the shed That stands beside the house appears T o know someone inside is dead. Above the valley, through the alley

Of yews the moon exudes a ray Of light to shimmer in the gray

COMPLAINT OF A LOVER REBUKED H e n 7 Howard, Earl of Surrey (c. 15 I ~ - I pub. ~ ~ 1557 ~ )

Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought, That built his seat within my captive breast, Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought, Oft in my face he doth his banner rest. She, that me taught to love, and suffer pain, My doubtful hope, and eke my hot desire, With shamefast cloak to shadow, and refrain, Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire. And coward Love then to the heart apace Taketh his flight, whereas he lurks, and plains His purpose lost, and dare not show his face. For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pains, Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove: Sweet is his death that takes his end by love. I o.

Damp atmosphere, and near the house A bat, repulsive winged mouse, Flits as a bat is said to do When everything is flat and still. N o birds remain within the chill Domain of moon and bats and yew.

10

plains: complains.

Questions

This poem and the preceding one are both translations of the same Italian sonnet, Petrarch's 109th

T h e sallow moonlight sheds its rays O n jumbled rubbish in the dump. An empty pail hangs by the pump. Abandoned now for several days, Out in the driveway where no rain Has fallen to mark its scars with rust, An auto, filmed with settling dust, Will not be started u p again. Notice, in this piece of elegiac verse, how strongly the unvaried iambic bcat asserts itself in the first line, and how mechanical it sounds by the end of the third line. T h e intended theme-a hushed apprehensive pathos-is battered out of any chance of existence by the insistent metrical tack-hammer.

82

Useful Terms

Meter

I was singing all the time Just as prettily as he, About the dew upon the lawn And the wind upon the lea; So I didn't listen to him As he sang upon a tree.

T h e short lines, insistent rhythm, and abrupt monosyllabic rhymes make one very much aware of where lines begin and end. Consider line 6 : T h a t stands beside the house appears

....

Is there any pretense of naturalness in the phrasing that sets this fragment off by itself? W h a t makes it so difficult for the reader to blend the line properly into the rest of the sentence? What does the rhythm do to disrupt the flow of lines 9-1 I? Does the internal rhyme in line 8 serve any purpose? Does it look as if it had gotten there by accident? Detach line 9 from the rest of the poem, and read it aloud. How does the prevailing rhythm force you to pace it? Is this the speech rhythm that would be called for if the words were spoken naturally for their sense? Try to read stanza 2 "with expression." Does the meter help or hinder you? T o dismiss these as "technical flaws" is to say that the author didn't consider his poem worth writing. Insensibility reveals itself more surely in rhythmic forcing (or else in the absence of any rhythmic assurance at all) than in any other way. You can tell a live poem from a dead one just as you can tell a heart beating from a watch ticking.

'THE RIVALS

James Stephens (1882-1950)

I heard a bird at d a u n Singing sweetly on a tree, T h a t the dew was on the lawn And the wind was on the lea; But I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me.

I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me T h a t the dew was on the lawn And the wind was on the lea; I was singing at the time Just as prettily as he.

FRAGMENT OF AN AGON

T. S. Eliot, 1927 SWEENEY

WAUCHOPE SWARTS

HORSFALL SNOW

KLIPSTEIN

DORIS

KRUMPACgER

DUSTY

I'll carry you off T o a cannibal isle. DORIS: You'll be the cannibal! SWEENEY: You'll be the missionary! You'll be my little seven stone missionary! I'll gobble you up. I'll be the cannibal. DORIS: You'll carry me off: T o a cannibal isle? SWEENEY:1'11 be the cannibal. DORIS : 1'11 be the missionary. I'll convert you! SWEENEY: I'll convert you! Into a stew. A nice little, white little, missionary stew. DORIS: YOUwouldn't eat me! SWEENEY: Yes I'd eat you! In a nice little, white little, soft little, tender little, Juicy little, right little, missionary stew. You see this egg You see this egg Well that's life on a crocodile isle. There's no telephones There's no gramophones There's no motor cars N o two-seaters, no six-seaters, N o Citroen, no Rolls-Royce. Nothing to eat but the fruit as it grows. Nothing to see but the palmtrees one way And the sea the other way, Nothing to hear but the sound of the surf. Nothing at all but three things SWEENEY:

83

84

Useful Terms

DORIS :

SWEENEY:

DORIS:

SWEENEY: DORIS: SWEENEY:

W h a t things? Birth, and copulation, and death. That's all, that's all, that's all, that's all, Birth, and copulation, and death. I'd be bored. You'd be bored. Birth, and copulation, and death. I'd be bored. You'd be bored. Birth, and copulation, and death. That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks: Birth, and copulation, and death. I've been born and once is enough. You don't remember, but I remember, Once is enough.

Meter

85

Meter

85

T e l l m e i n what part of the wood DO you want to flirt w i t h me? U n d e r the breadfruit, banyan, palmleaf O r under the bamboo tree? A n y old tree will do for m e A n y old wood is just as good A n y old isle is just m y style A n y fresh egg A n y fresh egg A n d the sound of the coral sea. DORIS:

I dont like eggs; I never liked eggs; And I dont like life on your crocodile isle. SONG BY KLIPSTEIN AND KRUMPACKER SNOW AND SWARTS AS BEFORE

SONG BY WAUCHOPE AND HORSFALL SWARTS AS TAMBO. SNOW AS BONES

U n d e r the bamboo Bamboo bamboo U n d e r the bamboo tree T w o live as one O n e live as two T w o live as three U n d e r the bum Under the boo Under the bamboo tree. W h e r e the breadfruit fall A n d the penguin call A n d the sound is the sound of the sea U n d e r the b u m U n d e r the boo U n d e r the bamboo tree.

diminuendo

84

I

Evening Noontime Night DORIS:

W h e r e the Gauguin maids I n the banyan shades W e a r palmleaf drapery U n d e r the b u m U n d e r the boo U n d e r the bamboo wee.

M y little island girl h/Iy little island girl I'm going to stay w i t h you A n d w e wont worry what to do W e wont have to catch any trains A n d w e wont go home w h e n it rains W e ' l l gather hibiscus flowers For it wont b e minutes but hours For it wont be hours but years A n d the morning A n d the evening A n d noontime And night Morning

SWEENEY: DORIS: SWEENEY:

That's not life, that's no life W h y I'd just as soon be dead. That's what life is. Just is What is? What's that life is? Life is death. I knew a man once did a girl in-

Useful Terms

DORIS :

SWEENEY:

DORIS:

SWEENEY: DORIS: SWEENEY:

W h a t things? Birth, and copulation, and death. That's all, that's all, that's all, that's all, Birth, and copulation, and death. I'd be bored. You'd be bored. Birth, and copulation, and death. I'd be bored. You'd be bored. Birth, and copulation, and death. That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks: Birth, and copulation, and death. I've been born and once is enough. You don't remember, but I remember, Once is enough.

T e l l m e i n what part of the wood D o you want to flirt w i t h me? U n d e r the breadfruit, banyan, palmleaf O r under the bamboo tree? A n y old tree will do for m e A n y old wood is just as good A n y old isle is just m y style A n y fresh egg A n y fresh egg A n d the sound of the coral sea. DORIS:

I dont like eggs; I never liked eggs; And I dont like life on your crocodile isle.

SONG BY KLIPSTEIN AND KRUMPACKER SNOW AND SWARTS AS BEFORE SONG BY WAUCHOPE AND HORSFALL SWARTS AS TAMBO. SNOW AS BONES

U n d e r the bamboo Bamboo bamboo U n d e r the bamboo tree T w o live as one O n e live as two T w o live as three U n d e r the bum U n d e r the boo U n d e r the bamboo tree. W h e r e the breadfruit fall A n d the penguin call A n d the sound is the sound of the sea U n d e r the bum U n d e r the boo U n d e r the bamboo tree.

diminuendo

I I

I

Evening Noontime Night

DORIS:

W h e r e the Gauguin maids I n the banyan shades W e a r palmleaf drapery U n d e r the b u m U n d e r the boo U n d e r the bamboo tree.

M y little island girl M y little island girl I'm going to stay w i t h you A n d w e wont worry what to do W e wont have to catch any trains A n d w e wont go home w h e n it rains W e ' l l gather hibiscus flowers For it wont be minutes but hours For it wont be hours but years A n d the morning A n d the evening A n d noontime And night Morning

SWEENEY:

DORIS: SWEENEY:

That's not life, that's no life W h y I'd just as soon be dead. That's what life is. Just is What is? What's that life is? Life is death. I knew a man once did a girl in-

70

86

Meter

Useful Terms

H e didn't know if the girl was alive and he was dead H e didn't know if they both were alive or both were dead If he was alive then the milkman wasn't and the rent-collector wasn't And if they were alive then he was dead. There wasn't any joint There wasn't any joint For when you're alone W h e n you're alone like he was alone You're either or neither I tell you again it dont apply Death or life or life or death Death is life and life is death I gotta use words when 1 talk to you But if you understand or if you dont That's nothing to me and nothing to you W e all gotta do what we gotta do We're gona sit here and drink this booze We're gona sit here and have a tune We're gona stay and we're gona go And somebody's gotta pay the rent DORIS : I know who SIVEENEY:But that's nothing to me and nothing to you.

O h Mr. Sweeney, please dont talk, I cut the cards before you came And I drew the coffin SWARTS: You drew the coffin? DORIS: I drew the COFFIN very last card. I dont care for such conversation A woman runs a terrible risk. SNOW: Let Mr. Sweeney continue his story. I assure you, Sir, we are very interested. SWEENEY:I knew a man once did a girl in Any man might do a girl in Any man has to, needs to, wants to Once in a lifetime, do a girl in. Well he kept her there in a bath With a gallon of lysol in a bath SWARTS: These fellows always get pinched in the end. Excuse me, they dont all get pinched in the end SNOW: What about them bones on Epsom Heath? I seen that in the papers You seen it in the papers They dont all get pinched in the end. A woman runs a terrible risk. DORIS: Let Mr Sweeney continue his story. SNOW: SWEENEY:This one didn't get pinched in the end But that's another story too. This went on for a couple of months Nobody came And nobody went But he took in the milk and he paid the rent. SWARTS: What did he do? All that time, what did he do? SWEENEY:What did he do! what did he do? That dont apply. Talk to live men about what they do. H e used to come and see me sometimes I'd give him a drink and cheer him up. DORIS: Cheer him up? DUSTY: Cheer him up? SWEENEY: Well here again that dont apply But I've gotta use words when I talk to you. But here's what I was going to say. H e didn't know if he was alive and the girl was dead

DORIS:

86

FULL CHORUS: WAUCHOPE,

HORSFALL, KLIPSTEIN,

KRU MPACKER

W h e n you're alone in the middle of the night and you wake in a sweat and a hell of a fright W h e n you're alone in the middle of the bed and you wake like someone hit you on the head You've had a cream of a nightmare dream and you've got the hoo-ha's coming to you Hoo hoo hoo You dreamt you waked up at seven o'clock and it's foggy and it's damp and it's dawn and it's dark And you wait for a knock and the turning of a lock for you know the hangman's waiting for you.

Meter

Useful Terms

O h Mr. Sweeney, please dont talk, I cut the cards before you came And I drew the coffin SWARTS: You drew the coffin? DORIS: I drew the COFFIN very last card. I dont care for such conversation A woman runs a terrible risk. SNOW: Let Mr. Sweeney continue his story. I assure you, Sir, we are very interested. SWEENEY:I knew a man once did a girl in Any man might do a girl in Any man has to, needs to, wants to Once in a lifetime, do a girl in. Well he kept her there in a bath W i t h a gallon of lysol in a bath SWARTS: These fellows always get pinched in the end. Excuse me, they dont all get pinched in the end SNOW: What about them bones on Epsom Heath? I seen that in the papers You seen it in the papers They dont all get pinched in the end. A woman runs a terrible risk. DORIS: Let Mr Sweeney continue his story. SNOW: SWEENEY:This one didn't get pinched in the end But that's another story too. This went on for a couple of months Nobody came And nobody went But he took in the milk and he paid the rent. SWARTS: W h a t d i d h e d o ? All that time, what did he do? SWEENEY:What did he do! what did he do? That dont apply. Talk to live men about what they do. H e used to come and see me sometimes I'd give him a drink and cheer him up. DORIS: Cheer him up? DUSTY: Cheer him up? SWEENEY: Well here again that dont apply But I've gotta use words when I talk to you. But here's what I was going to say. H e didn't know if he was alive and the girl was dead

87

DORIS:

1x5

I20

t 1

1 1

125

H e didn't know if the girl was alive and he was dead H e didn't know if they both were alive or both were dead If he was alive then the milkman wasn't and the rent-collector wasn't And if they were alive then he was dead. There wasn't any joint There wasn't any joint For when you're alone W h e n you're alone like he was alone You're either or neither I tell you again it dont apply Death or life or life or death Death is life and life is death I gotta use words when I talk to you But if you understand or if you dont That's nothing to me and nothing to you W e all gotta do what we gotta do We're gona sit here and drink this booze We're gona sit here and have a tune We're gona stay and we're gona go And somebody's gotta pay the rent DORIS : I know who SIVEENEY:But that's nothing to me and nothing to you.

I

FULL CHORUS: WAUCHOPE,

HORSFALL, KLIPSTEIN,

KRUMPACKER

W h e n you're alone in the middle of the night and you wake in a sweat and a hell of a fright When you're alone in the middle of the bed and you wake like someone hit you on the head You've had a cream of a nightmare dream and you've got the hoo-ha's coming to you Hoo hoo hoo You dreamt you waked u p at seven o'clock and it's foggy and it's damp and it's dawn and it's dark And you wait for a knock and the turning of a lock for you know the hangman's waiting for you.

87

88

Meter

Useful Terms

Sweeney's disquieting statements into a familiar orbit? Does T i n Pan Alley provide ways of simplifying one's problems? of reducing one's degree of consciousness? When Sweeney tells about the murderer's compulsion, Swarts and Snow quickly transpose the theme into the comfortable verities of the police court news. When Sweeney describes the nightmare in the flat, the Chorus produces a song about a bad dream. Are they reinforcing his remarks, or anesthetizing themselves? Their talk stays on the plane of popular folklore. Does his? Does he succeed in making his vision of life plain to them? to himself? What experience may have so transfigured the world for Sweeney? Line 43 appears to echo the scriptural injunction, "Ye must be born again." If Sweeney hasn't undergone a second birth, what has he undergone? What does he understand that the other characters don't?

And perhaps you're alive And perhaps ~ o u ' r edead Hoo ha ha Hoo ha ha Hoo Hoo Hoo

KNOCKKNOCK KNOCK KNOCKKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK Nine knocks for nine people, without missing a beat. In the Fragm e n t of a Prologue which precedes this piece in Eliot's Collected Poems, the telephone bell picks up the jazz beat as competently as anyone on stage: Sam's all right But Pereira won't do. W e can't have Pereira. Well what you going to do? DUSTY : TELEPHONE : Ting a ling ling Ting a ling ling That's Pereira DUSTY: DORIS : Yes that's Pereira Well what you going to do? DUSTY: TELEPHONE: T i n g a ling ling Ting a ling ling . .

JOURNEY OF THE MAGI

T. S. Eliot, 1927

DUSTY: DORIS :

..

Mr. Eliot remarks somewhere that the internal combustion engine (when Fragment of a n Agon was written, primarily the four-cylinder Ford) has radically altered our conception of rhythm. T h e author's recording of this poem (Harvard Vocarium P-1206-7) deserves hearing. How does the insistent four-beat rhythm determine our apprehension of the characters? Are they sharply distinguished from one another? Do they fully grasp the import of one another's remarks? Do the rhythms reflect and emphasize what they say, or tend to determine what they say? Does the tropical isle have the same significance for Sn~ecncyas for the singers of the song about the bamboo tree? Has he the more vivid vision, or have they? W h o has the more profound moral apprehension? Do they sing in order to entertain the company? Or to drag

89

I

'A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: T h e ways deep and the weather sharp, T h e very dead of winter.' And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted T h e summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. T h e n the camel men cursing and grumbling And running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. T h e n at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,

90

Useful Terms

Meter

And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at the open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins. But there was no information, and so we continued And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly, W e had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. W e returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.

91

What is the tone of line 317 Line 33 is explicit: "And 1 would do it again." (Sweeney said, "Once is enough.") Yet their experience has brought no exhilaration, and has rendered them homeless now that they are back at home (lines 40-41). W h y was it worth doing? Is the poem a metaphor for religious conversion? If so, is its meaning restricted to that? Does it undermine the notion that we have a right to be comfortable?

35

LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS Quhen he was sek. W i l l i a m Dunbar, c. I 508

I that in heill wes and gladnes, Am trublit now with gret seiknes, And feblit with infermite; 40

This poem was written in the same year as Fragment of a n Agon, and has a similar theme: Sweeney and the Magi have both undergone an experience (having to do with birth and death) which cuts them off from their normal companions. "Lying down in the melting snow" (line 7) and "A woman runs a terrible risk" (Fragment of an Agon, line 109) are both irregular fourbeat lines. What makes the one so nerveless and the other so propulsive? Inherent metrical qualities, or contagion from the surrounding lines, or both? Is the caesura (pause in mid-line) noticeable in lines I-5? Is this true throughout the poem? Are you meant to pause where the lines end, or read on as though you were reading prose? What does the slackness of rhythmic pattern convey about the state of the speaker? What expectations does the title arouse? How soon does Eliot begin to undermine the Christmas-card image? I n the second part of the poem (lines 2 1-3 I ) we encounter a paradise for horses. Do the three trees, the vine, the pieces of silver, the wineskins arouse stirrings of familiarity in your mind? Are they part of the Christian heritage of symbols? Had they any special meaning at the time the Magi encountered them? Would this have been a good place to stay if it hadn't been for the Birth?

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. Our pleasance heir is all vane glory, This fals world is bot transitory, T h e flesche is brukle, the Fend is sle;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. T h e stait of man dois change and vary, Now sound, now seik, now blith, now sary, Now dansand mery, now like to dee;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. N o stait in erd heir standis sickir; As with the wynd wavis the wickir, Wavis this warldis vanite;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. O n to the dead gois all estatis, Princis, prelotis, and potestatis, Baith riche and pur of a1 degre;

Timor mortis conturbat me. 1- heill: health. 4. The fear of death troubles me. 7. brukle: brittle. sle: sly. I o. sary: sorry. 13. stait: rank. erd: earth. sickir: secure. 14. wickir: twig. 18. prelotis: prelates. potestatis: potentates

92

I

Useful Terms

Timor mortis conturbat me. T h e gude Syr Hew of Eglintoun, And eik Heryot, and Wyntoun, H e hes tane out of this cuntre;

Timor mortis conturbat me. That strang unmerciful1 tyrand Takis, on the moderis brest sowkand, T h e bab full of benignite;

Timor mortis conturbat me. That scorpion fell hes done infek Maister Johne Clerk, and James Afflek, Fra balat making and tragidie;

Timor mortis conturbat me. H e takis the campion in the stour, T h e capitane closit in the tour, T h e lady in bour full of bewte;

Timor mortis conturbat me. Holland and Barbour he hes berevit; Allace! that he nocht with us levit Schir Mungo Lokert of the Le;

Timor mortis conturbat me. He sparis no lord for his piscence, N a clerk for his intelligence; His awful1 strak may no man fle;

Timor mortis conturbat me. Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane, That maid the Anteris of Gawane; Schir Gilbert Hay endit hes he;

Timor mortis conturbat me. Art-magicianis, and astrologgis, Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis, Thame helpis no conclusionis sle;

Timor mortis conturbat me. H e hes Blind Hary and Sandy Trail1 Slaine with his schour of mortal1 haill, Quhilk Patrik Johnestoun myght nocht Be;

Timor mortis wnturbat me. In medicyne the most practicianis, Lechis, surrigianis, and phisicianis, Thame self fra ded may not supple;

Timor mortis conturbat me.

Timor mortis conturbat me. 45

Timor mortis conturbat me. H e hes done petuously devour T h e noble Chaucer, of makaris flour, a n a m i t : armed. 23. "ellie: melee. 26. sowkand: sucking. 33.piscence: puissance. 29. stour: battle. 38. rethoris: rhetoricians. 37. art-mgicianis: practitioners of magic arts. 42. lechis: leeches. 39. conclusionis sle: skillful reasonings. 46. syne: then. 45.makaris: poets. laif: live. 43. supple: defend. 50. All the following proper names are those of poets. They need not be looked up. 22.

93

T h e Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thre;

H e takis the knychtis in to feild, Anarmit under helme and scheild; Victour he is at all mellie;

I se that makaris amang the laif Playis heir ther pageant, syne gois to graif; Sparit is nocht ther faculte;

Meter

H e hes reft Merseir his endite, That did in luf so lifly write, So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie;

Timor mortis conturbat me. H e hes tane Roull of Aberdene, And gentill Roull of Corstorphin; Two bettir fallowis did no man se;

Timor mortis conturbat me. In Dumfermelyne he hes done roune With Maister Robert Henrisoun; 54. eik: also. 66. maid: composed. 71.Quhilk: which. 73. reft: deprived of. endite: power of writing. 75. sentence hie: lofty meaning. 8I . done roune: whispered.

94

Useful Terms

Meter

Schir Johne the Ros embrast hes he;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. And he hes now tane, last of aw, Gud gentill Stobo and Quintyne Schaw, Of ¶uham all wichtis hes pete:

85

T i m o r mortis conturbat me.

They sailed away in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they sailed so fast, With only a beautiful pea-green veil Tied with a riband by way of a sail, i~e T o a small t o b a c ~ o - ~mast; And every one said, who saw them go, "0won't they be soon upset, you know! "For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long, "And happen what may, it's extremely wrong "In a Sieve to sail so fast!" Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.

Gud Maister Walter Kennedy I n poynt of dede lyis veraly, Gret reuth it wer that so suld be;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. Sen he hes all my brether tane, H e wil nocht lat me lif alane, On forse I man his nyxt pray be;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. Sen for the deid remeid is none, Best is that we for dede dispone, Eftir our deid that lif may we;

T i m o r mortis conturbat me. 87. quham: whom. wichtis: wights, men. 91. seuth: pity. 93. sen: since. 95. on fosse: perforce. man: must. 98. dispone: dispose ourselves.

Questions I . Reading this poem, one soon learns that the rhyme sounds in the second half of each stanza will always be the same. What relation does this fact have to the meaning? 2. Would the poem be equally impressive if it were five stanzas long?

THE JUMBLIES

Edward Lear, I 871 They went to sea in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, O n a winter's morn, on a stormy day, In a Sieve they went to sea! And when the Sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, "You'll all be drowned!" They called aloud, "Our Sieve ain't big, "But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!

"In a Sieve we'll go to sea!" Far and few, far and few Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.

5

T h e water it soon came in, it did, T h e water it soon came in; So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet In a pinky paper all folded neat, And they fastened it down with a pin. And they passed the night in a crockery-jar, And each of them said, "How wise we are! 'Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, "Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong, "While round in our Sieve we spin!" Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. And all night long they sailed away; And when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song T o the echoing sound of a coppery gong, I n the shade of the mountains brown. "0Timballo! How happy we are, "When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar.

95 I 0

96

Meter

Useful Terms

'Come out of charity, Come dance with me in Ireland.'

"And all night long in the moonlight pale, "We sail away with a pea-green sail, "In the shade of the mountains brown!" Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.

'I A M OF IRELAND' William Butler Yeats, I 93 r

5

One man, one man alone In that outlandish gear, One solitary man Of all that rambled there Had turned his stately head. 'That is a long way off, And time runs on,' he said, 'And the night grows rough.'

They sailed to the Western Sea, they did, T o a land all covered with trees, And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cat, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart, And a hive of silvery Bees. And they bought a Pig, and some green Jackdaws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree, And no end of Stilton Cheese. Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. And in twenty years they all came back, In twenty years or more, And every one said, "How tall they've grown! "For they've been to the Lakes, and the Terrible Zone, "And the hills of the Chankly Bore;" And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, "If we only live, ' W e too will go to sea in a Sieve,"To the hills of the Chankly Bore!" Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.

97

'I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,' cried she. 'Come out of charity And dance with me in Irelund.' T h e fiddlers are all thumbs, Or the fiddle-string accursed, T h e drums and the kettledrums And the trumpets all are burst, And the trombone,' cried he, T h e trumpet and trombone,' And cocked a malicious eye, 'But time runs on, runs on.'

'I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,' cried she. 'Come out of charity And dance with me in Ireland.' Questions I . What is the tone of the one man who troubles to reply to the woman's fanaticism? Mocking? Practical? Indifferent? Teasing? 2. Is he beginning to comply by line 26, or merely mocking her with one of her own statements? 3. W h y is she given the last word?

'I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,' cried she.

96

Meter

Useful Terms

'Come out of charity, Come dance with me in Ireland.'

"And all night long in the moonlight pale, "We sail away with a pea-green sail, "In the shade of the mountains brown!" Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.

'I A M OF IRELAND' William Butler Yeats, I 93 r

'I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,' cried she.

5

One man, one man alone In that outlandish gear, One solitary man Of all that rambled there Had turned his stately head. 'That is a long way off, And time runs on,' he said, 'And the night grows rough.'

They sailed to the Western Sea, they did, T o a land all covered with trees, And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cat, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart, And a hive of silvery Bees. And they bought a Pig, and some green Jackdaws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree, And no end of Stilton Cheese. Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. And in twenty years they all came back, In twenty years or more, And every one said, "How tall they've grown! "For they've been to the Lakes, and the Terrible Zone, "And the hills of the Chankly Bore;" And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, "If we only live, ' W e too will go to sea in a Sieve,"To the hills of the Chankly Bore!" Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.

97

'I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,' cried she. 'Come out of charity And dance with me in Irelund.' T h e fiddlers are all thumbs, Or the fiddle-string accursed, T h e drums and the kettledrums And the trumpets all are burst, And the trombone,' cried he, T h e trumpet and trombone,' And cocked a malicious eye, 'But time runs on. runs on.'

'I am of Ireland, And the Holy Land of Ireland, And time runs on,' cried she. 'Come out of charity And dance with me in Ireland.' Questions I . What is the tone of the one man who troubles to reply to the woman's fanaticism? Mocking? Practical? Indifferent? Teasing? 2. Is he beginning to comply by line 26, or merely mocking her with one of her own statements? 3. W h y is she given the last word?

Song and Sonority

99

From THE LOTOS-EATERS

Alfred, Lord T e n n y s o n , 1833 But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly) With half-dropt eyelid still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, T o watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hillT o hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vineT o watch the emerald-colour'd water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine! Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine, Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.

nnnnn Song and Sonority

In this remarkable piece of incantation one can see the sound deforming the sense. Ilow did the sky in line 4 get to be "holy"? Why, in line 7, are the echoes "calling"? Account for the position of "divine" (line I 0).

Though rhythm and sound are among the most powerful and exact means of definition the poet has at his disposal, they are too often used and relished for their owll sake. This misuse is a recurring temptation to English poets for a number of ascertainable reasons. For instance, the fact that in its period of greatest life so much English verse was written to be declaimed from a stage hasn't been ~vhollyfortunate. Inferior seventeenth-century dramatists discovered ways of counterfeiting verse aimed at the ear alone, and their example was imitated. Some kinds of poetry are like chocolates, in individual instances pleasant and harmless, but as a staple diet destructive to the senses, the digestion, and the appetite.

Can one see anything clearly in the passage? Is one left with a vivid impression of anything? Is reading the passage a pleasant experience?

T o approach this point from another direction: good writing aims at setting something before the reader's mind by means of language. If the reader is moved or enlightened, it will be the thing presented that moves or enlightens him, not the mechanics of presentation. Less good writing sets out directly to impress the reader, and ultimately impresses only the reader who doesn't really believe that words have meanings and that structures of words preserve meanings. Such readers got that way by a long period of never paying strict attcntion to the meaning of anything; and when they like a piece of verse, they are probably responding more to the sound than to anything else.

5

98

A BALLAD OF BURDENS

Algernon Charles Swinburne,

1871

T h e burden of fair women. Vain delight And love self-slain in some sweet shameful way, And sorrowful old age that comes by night As a thief comes that has no heart by day, And change that finds fair cheeks and leaves them grey, And weariness that keeps awake for hire, And grief that says what pleasure used to say; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of bought kisses. This is sore, A burden without fruit in childbcaring; Between the nightfall and the dawn threescore, Thrcescore betwcen the dawn and evening. T h e shuddering in thy lips, the shuddering

100

Useful Terms

I n thy sad eyelids tremulous like fire, Makes love seem shameful and a wretched thing. This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of sweet speeches. Nay, kneel down, Cover thy head, and weep; for verily These market-men that buy thy white and brown I n the last days shall take no thought for thee. I n the last days like earth thy face shall be, Yea, like sea-marsh made thick with brine and mire, Sad with sick leavings of the sterile sea. This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of long living. Thou shalt fear Waking, and sleeping mourn upon thy bed; And say at night 'Would God the day were here,' And say at dawn, 'Would God the day were dead.' With weary days thou shalt be clothed and fed, And wear remorse of heart for thine attire, Pain for thy girdle and sorrow upon thine head; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of bright colours. Thou shalt see Gold tarnished, and the grey above the green; And as the thing thou seest thy face shall be, And no more as the thing before time seen. And thou shalt say of mercy 'It hath been,' And living, watch the old lips and loves expire, And talking, tears shall take thy breath between; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of sad sayings. I n that day Thou shalt tell all thy days and hours, and tell T h y times and ways and words of love, and say How one was dear and one desirable, And sweet was life to hear and sweet to smell, But now with lights reverse the old hours retire And the last hour is shod with fire from hell; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of four seasons. Rain in spring, White rain and wind among the tender trees;

100

Useful Terms

In thy sad eyelids tremulous like fire, Makes love seem shameful and a wretched thing. This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of sweet speeches. Nay, kneel down, Cover thy head, and weep; for verily These market-men that buy thy white and brown I n the last days shall take no thought for thee. In the last days like earth thy face shall be, Yea, like sea-marsh made thick with brine and mire, Sad with sick leavings of the sterile sea. This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of long living. Thou shalt fear Waking, and sleeping mourn upon thy bed; And say at night 'Would God the day were here,' And say at dawn, 'Would God the day were dead.' With weary days thou shalt be clothed and fed, And wear remorse of heart for thine attire, Pain for thy girdle and sorrow upon thine head; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of bright colours. Thou shalt see Gold tarnished, and the grey above the green; And as the thing thou seest thy face shall be, And no more as the thing before time seen. And thou shalt say of mercy 'It hath been,' And living, watch the old lips and loves expire, And talking, tears shall take thy breath between; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of sad sayings. In that day Thou shalt tell all thy days and hours, and tell T h y times and ways and words of love, and say How one was dear and one desirable, And sweet was life to hear and sweet to smell, But now with lights reverse the old hours retire And the last hour is shod with fire from hell; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of four seasons. Rain in spring, White rain and wind among the tender trees;

Song and Sonority

15

20

25

30

101

A summer of green sorrows gathering, Rank autumn in a mist of miseries, With sad face set towards the year, that sees T h e charred ash drop out of the dropping pyre, And winter wan with many maladies; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of dead faces. Out of sight And out of love, beyond the reach of hands, Changed in the changing of the dark and light, They walk and weep about the barren lands Where no seed is nor any garner stands, Where in short deaths the doubtful days respire, And time's turned glass lets through the sighing sands; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of much gladness. Life and lust Forsake thee, and the face of thy delight; And underfoot the heavy hour strews dust, And overhead strange weathers burn and bite; And where the red was, lo the bloodless white, And where truth was, the likeness of a liar, And where day was, the likeness of the night; This is the end of every man's desire.

35

40

45

Princes, and ye whom pleasure quickeneth, Heed well this rhyme before your pleasure tire; For life is sweet, but after life is death. This is the end of every man's desire.

75

Probably everyone should read enough of Swinburne to get tired of him. Can one say why, in line 31, pain is a girdle and sorrow a headdress? What are the images in lines 46-47? Does it matter? Can you find other examples? I n Atalanta in C a l y d o n Swinburne wrote of Time with a gift of tears Grief with a glass that ran.

50

After it had been pointed out that tears would be more appropriate with Grief and the running glass (hourglass) with Time, a critic defended the

Song and Sonority

101

A summer of green sorrows gathering, Rank autumn in a mist of miseries, With sad face set towards the year, that sees T h e charred ash drop out of the dropping pyre, And winter wan with many maladies; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of dead faces. O u t of sight And out of love, beyond the reach of hands, Changed in the changing of the dark and light, They walk and weep about the barren lands Where no seed is nor any garner stands, Where in short deaths the doubtful days respire, And time's turned glass lets through the sighing sands; This is the end of every man's desire. T h e burden of much gladness. Life and lust Forsake thee, and the face of thy delight; And underfoot the heavy hour strews dust, And overhead strange weathers burn and bite; And where the red was, lo the bloodless white, And where truth was, the likeness of a liar, And where day was, the likeness of the night; This is the end of every man's desire.

Princes, and ye whom pleasure quickeneth, Heed well this rhyme before your pleasure tire; For life is sweet, but after life is death. This is the end of every man's desire.

75

Probably everyone should read enough of Swinburne to get tired of him. Can one say why, in line 31, pain is a girdle and sorrow a headdress? What are the images in lines 46-47? Does it matter? Can you find other examples? I n Atalanta in C a l y d o n Swinburne wrote of Time with a gift of tears Grief with a glass that ran. After it had been pointed out that tears would be more appropriate with Grief and the running glass (hourglass) with Time, a critic defended the

102

Song and Sonority

UsefulTerrns

passage as "a mutual comparison between the water-clock and the tearbottle." Though it is possible, as this shows, to devise an explanation for anything, the explanation that "fits" but is unconvincing, and probably has to be looked up again when you want it some weeks later, doesn't save the poem. Do certain lines or sections of A Ballad of Burdens tend to stick in the memory? Why? Has their appeal anything to do with anything they make one see? Swinburne is worth knowing as an extreme case of the hypnotic appeal of rhythm and alliteration alonc. H e frequently blends the feelings of words with great skill into a semblance of meaning, and patient digging will often disclose more structure to the sense than is at first apparent. If A Ballad of Burdens interests you, look up the choruses to Atalanta

skill to smooth the composer's way. Often he doubled as composer. In the Book of Airs from which Follow Your Saint is taken, Campion wrote all the words and half the musical settings. Shakespeare probably learned much of his craft from Italian songbooks in which the music was printed with the words. Especially during the years 1590-1610, a very large number of similar books was published in England; the words are by various authors, known and unknown. Swinburne wrote long after music of consequence had ceased to be composed in England. T h e sounds made by the verse are intended to be a substitute for music.

in Calydon.

TO THE ROSE Song

T h e attention paid by poets to the techniques of incantation during the century between Coleridge's Kubla Khan ( I 816) and Eliot's Prufrock (191 I ) is related to that long attempt to create a dream world which is one of the most curious aberrations in literary history. If >.ou look u p T h e Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock in T. S. Eliot's Collected Poenzs you will find that it criticizes this tradition by putting the dream world to ironic uses, presenting it as a prison ratl~crthan a refuge.

Robert Herrick, pub. 1648 Go, happy rose, and interwove With other flowers, bind my love. Tell her, too, she must not be Longer flowing, longer free, T h a t so oft has fettered me.

FOLLOW YOUR SAINT

Say, if she's fretful, I have bands Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands;

Thomas Campion, pub. 1601 Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet; Haste you, sad notes, fall at hcr fl!.ing feet. There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrnlv, pitr move, And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again. All that I sung still to her praise did tend, Still she was first, still she my songs did end; Yet she my love and music both doth fly, T h e music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy. Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight: It shall suffice that they were breath'd and died for her delight.

Tell her, if she struggle still, I have myrtle rods, at will, For to tame, though not to kill. Take thou my blessing thus, and go, And tell her this-but do not so, Lest a handsome anger fly Like a lightning from her eye, And burn thee up, as well as I.

5

Questions 10

Before about 1725, one can be fairly sure that something labelec! 'Song" is meant to be sung, and that the poet has employed considerable

102

I . T o aid the musician and singer, the words are grouped around pauses (caesurae) in the middle of each line. Would the same setting do for all three stanzas? 2. Would you be able to follow the sense of the words, if they were sung to you? 3. How exact is the sense? Has "flowing" (line 4) a precise meaning?

Song and Sonority

UsefulTerrns

passage as "a mutual comparison between the water-clock and the tearbottle." Though it is possible, as this shows, to devise an explanation for anything, the explanation that "fits" but is unconvincing, and probably has to be looked up again when you want it some weeks later, doesn't save the poem. Do certain lines or sections of A Ballad of Burdens tend to stick in the memory? Why? Has their appeal anything to do with anything they make one see? Swinburne is worth knowing as an extreme case of the hypnotic appeal of rhythm and alliteration alonc. Me frequently blends the feelings of words with great skill into a semblance of meaning, and patient digging will often disclose more structure to the sense than is at first apparent. If A Ballad of Burdens interests you, look up the choruses to Atalanta

TO THE ROSE Song

T h e attention paid by poets to the techniques of incantation during the century between Coleridge's Kz~blaKhnlz ( I 816) and Eliot's Prufrock (191 I ) is related to that long attempt to create a dream world which is one of the most curious aberrations in literary history. If you look u p T h e Love Song of 1. Alfred Prufrock in T. S. Eliot's Collected Poems you will find that it criticizes this tradition by putting the dream world to ironic uses, presenting it as a prison ratllcr than a refuge.

Robert Herrick, pub. 1648 Go, happy rose, and interwove With other flowers, bind my love. Tell her, too, she must not be Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fettered me.

FOLLOW YOUR SAINT

Say, if she's fretful, I have bands Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands;

Thomas Campion, pub. 1601

All that I sung still to her praise did tend, Still she was first, still she my songs did end; Yet she my love and music both doth fly, T h e music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy. Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight: I t shall sufficethat they were breath'd and died for her delight.

103

skill to smooth the composer's way. Often he doubled as composer. In the Book of Airs from which Follow Your Saint is taken, Campion wrote all the words and half the musical settings. Shakespeare probably learned much of his craft from Italian songbooks in which the music was printed with the words. Especially during the years 1590-1610, a very large number of similar books was published in England; the words are by various authors, known and unknown. Swinburne wrote long after music of consequence had ceased to be composed in England. T h e sounds made by the verse are intended to be a substitute for music.

in Calydon.

Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet; Haste you, sad notes, fall at hcr fl!.iilg feet. There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrow pitr move, And tell the ravisher of my soul I l)nrish for her love: But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again.

103

Tell her, if she struggle still, I have myrtle rods, at will, For to tame, though not to kill. Take thou my blessing thus, and go, And tell her this-but do not so, Lest a handsome anger fly Like a lightning from her eye, And burn thee up, as well as I.

5

'5

Questions 10

Before about 1725, one can be fairly sure that something labeled 'Song" is meant to be sung, and that the poet has employed considerable

I. T o aid the musician and singer, the words are grouped around pauses (caesurae) in the middle of each line. Would the same setting do for all three stanzas? 2. Would you be able to follow the sense of the words, if they were sung to you? 3. How exact is the sense? Has "flowing" (line 4) a precise meaning?

104

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

Silent music, either other Sweetly gracing.

W h a t are the "rods" (line g)? Is the tone of the last stanza comic? playful? serious? Would it be easy for the singer to convey it?

Lovely forms do flow From concent divinely framed; Heaven is music, and thy beauty's Birth is heav'nly.

SONG

Edmund Waller, pub. I 64s Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, T h a t now she knows, W h e n I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

These dull notes we sing Discords need for helps to grace them; Only beauty purely loving Knows no discord;

5

Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, T h a t hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, T h o u must have uncommended died.

But still moves delight, Like clear springs renew'd by flowing, Ever perfect, ever in themselves eternal.

Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retir'd: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desir'd, And not blush so to be admir'd. T h e n die, that she T h e common fate of all things rare May read in thee, How small a part of time they share, T h a t are so wondrous sweet and fair. Questions I . Is Waller's poem close enough to the speaking voice to be read aloud, without music? is Herrick's? 2. Is the rose image still present in stanza 3?

"ROSE-CHEEK'D LAURA, COME" Thomas Campion, I602

Rose-cheek'd Laura, come; Sinq thou smoothly with thy beauty's

104

It wasn't until the eighteenth century that a poem became something to look at in a book. T h e art which began - with Homer began - with a reciter's speaking voice. There are poems intended to be sung that are almost as old as Homer. Although Dante's and Chaucer's narrative poems and a great many Renaissance lyrics and sonnets were intended for circulation in manuscript, the continuous tradition that relates verse to the speaking or singing voice is unbroken from 800 years before Christ until 1800 years after. Print, for such verse, is purely a means of preservation, like the printed score of a Mozart opera. Many of the most familiar attributes of lyric verse arose from its long history of conjunction with music. Regular and sometimes intricate stanza forms, for instance, repeated several times, were originally a means of fitting a long poem to a short tune. Songs written for concert performance show off the musician's skill and the singer's voice. T h e words to the pieces in the average concert artist's repertoire are of little importance. T h e much more intricate art of making intelligible to the ear a set of words of some interest flourished d the fifteenth to the seventeenth ccnturies, before music in ~ n d a n from was delivered at public concerts. You will find words and music to some eighty songs from the most prolific quarter-century of this period in An Elizabethan Song Book (cd. Noah Grcenbcrg, W. H . Auden and Chester Kallman, 1956). And a half-hour spent listening to the Deller Consort recording of Tavern Songs (Vanguard BG-561) or some of the other Deller recordings ( T h e T h r e e Ravens; T h e Cries of London; T h e

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

W h a t are the "rods" (line g)? Is the tone of the last stanza comic? playful? serious? Would it be easy for the singer to convey it?

Edmund Waller, pub. 1645

5

Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, T h a t hadst thou sprung I n deserts where no men abide, T h o u must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retir'd: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desir'd, And not blush so to be admir'd. T h e n die, that she T h e common fate of all things rare M a y read in thee, How small a part of time they share, T h a t are so wondrous sweet and fair. Questions I . Is Waller's poem close enough to the speaking voice to be read aloud, without music? is Herrick's? 2. Is the rose image still present in stanza 3?

"ROSE-CHEEK'D LAURA, COME" Thomas Campion, r 602

Rose-cheek'd Laura, come; Sinq thou smoothly with thy beauty's

105

Silent music, either other Sweetly gracing. Lovely forms do flow From concent divinely framed; Heaven is music, and thy beauty's Birth is heav'nly.

SONG

Go, lovely Rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, T h a t now she knows, W h e n I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

105

These dull notes we sing Discords need for helps to grace them; Only beauty purely loving Knows no discord; But still moves delight, Like clear springs renew'd by flowing, Ever perfect, ever in themselves eternal. It wasn't until the eighteenth century that a poem became something to look at in a book. T h e art which began with Homer began with a reciter's speaking voice. There are poems intended to be sung that are almost as old as Homer. Although Dante's and Chaucer's narrative poems and a great many Renaissance lyrics and sonnets were intended for circulation in manuscript, the continuous tradition that relates verse to the speaking or singing voice is unbroken from 800 years before Christ until 1800 years after. Print, for such verse, is purely a means of preservation, like the printed score of a Mozart opera. Many of the most familiar attributes of lyric verse arose from its long history of conjunction with music. Regular and sometimes intricate stanza forms, for instance, repeated several times, were originally a means of fitting a long poem to a short tune. Songs written for concert performance show off the musician's skill and the singer's voice. T h e words to the pieces in the average concert artist's repertoire are of little importance. T h e much more intricate art of making intelligible to the ear a set of words of some interest flourished in England from the fifteenth to the seventeenth ccnturies, before music was delivered at public concerts. You will find words and music to some eighty songs from the most prolific quarter-century of this period in An Elizabethan Song Book (cd. Noah Grcenbcrg, W. H . Auden and Chester Kallman, 1956). And a half-hour spent listening to the Deller Consort recording of Tavern Songs (Vanguard BG-561) or some of the other Deller recordings ( T h e Three Ravens; T h e Cries of London; T h e

106

Useful Terms

Song and Sonority

Wraggle Taggle Gypsies; T h e Holly and the I v y ) will convince you of the artistry of even unpretentious popular song of the same period. English culture in those centuries-Henry VIII to Charles 11-was steeped in music. T h e number of rounds on the Deller Tavern Songs record is suggestive. After a round has gotten fairly under way it is fully intelligible only to the singers: from which one gathers that a highly sophisticated vocal art was not only listened to but practiced by a very large number of people. T h e rounds would not have been written down, printed, and preserved if they had interested only a few dozen people in the entire country. Every small town in the United States today contains passably expert ballplayers. A similar diffusion of musical expertise lifted many anonymous song writers of Shakespeare's generation to a high standard of performance. T h e essentially solitary poets of the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, writing for a book-reading audience, have occasionally reached a comparable level of lyric proficiency by hard study and long practice. Eren so, since they are not writing for music, they write a different kind of verse.

"I SAW MY LADY WEEPE" Anonymous, c. 1600

A SONG

T h o m a s Carew, pub. 1640 Ask me no more, where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose: For in your beauty's orient deep, These flowers as in their causes sleep. Ask me no more whither do stray T h e golden atoms of the day : For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair.

I saw my Lady weepe, And Sorrow proud to be advanced so In those faire eies, where all perfections keepe; Her face was full of woe, But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts T h a n Alirth can doe with hir intysing parts.

Ask me no more where those stars light, T h a t downwards fall in dead of night: For in your eyes they sit, and there, Fixed become as in their sphere.

Sorrow was there made faire, And passion wise, tears a delightfull thing, Silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare, She made hir sighes to sing, And all things with so sweet a sadnesse move, As made my heart at once both grieve and love.

10

Ask me no more if East or West, T h c Phocnix builds her spicy nest: For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies.

THE ROSE OF LOVE

Edmund Spenser, c. r 585

0 fayrer than aught ells T h e world can show, leave off in time to grieve, Inough, inough, your joyful1 lookes excells; Teares kills the heart, believe, 0 strive not to be excellent in woe, Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.

106

Anonymous verses, no better nor worse than dozens of others. John Dowland's setting of this may be found in the Greenberg, Auden and Kallman Eliznbetlzau2 Song Book, p. 105. Could the order of the stanzas be rearranged? Could one or two be omitted without loss?

Ask me no more whither doth haste T h e Nightingale when May is past: For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note.

5

15

T h e whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay; Ah see, who so faire thing docs faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day; Ah see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee

Useful Terms

Song and Sonority

Wraggle Taggle Gypsies; T h e Holly and the I v y ) will convince you of the artistry of even unpretentious popular song of the same period. English culture in those centuries-Henry VIII to Charles 11-was steeped in music. T h e number of rounds on the Deller Tavern Songs record is suggestive. After a round has gotten fairly under way it is fully intelligible only to the singers: from which one gathers that a highly sophisticated vocal art was not only listened to but practiced by a very large number of people. T h e rounds would not have been written down, printed, and preserved if they had interested only a few dozen people in the entire country. Every small town in the United States today contains passably expert ballplayers. A similar diffusion of musical expertise lifted many anonymous song writers of Shakespeare's generation to a high standard of performance. T h e essentially solitary poets of the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, writing for a book-reading audience, have occasionally reached a comparable level of lyric proficiency by hard study and long practice. Eren so, since they are not writing for music, they write a different kind of verse.

"I SAW MY LADY WEEPE" Anonymous, c. 1600

I saw my Lady weepe, And Sorrow ~ r o u dto be advanced so In those faire eies, where all perfections keepe; Her face was full of woe, But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts Than Mirth can doe with hir intysing parts. Sorrow was there made faire, And passion wise, tears a delightfull thing, Silence beyond all speech a wisdom rare, She made hir sighes to sing, And all things with so sweet a sadnesse move, As made my heart at once both grieve and love.

5

10

A SONG

T h o m a s Carew, pub. 1640 Ask me no more, where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose: For in your beauty's orient deep, These flowers as in their causes sleep. Ask me no more whither do stray T h e golden atoms of the day: For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair.

Ask me no more where those stars light, That dolvnlrrards fall in dead of night: For in your eyes they sit, and there, Fixed become as in thcir sphere. Ask me no more if East or West, T h c Phocnix builds her spicy nest: For unto you at last she flies, And in your fragrant bosom dies.

THE ROSE OF LOVE

Ednzund Spenser, c. 1585 15

107

Anonymous verses, no better nor worse than dozens of others. John Dowland's setting of this may be found in the Greenberg, Auden and Kallman Eliznbetlzarz Sorzg Book, p. 105. Could the order of the stanzas be rearranged? Could one or two be omitted without loss?

Ask me no more whither doth haste T h e Nightingale when May is past: For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note.

0 fayrer than aught ells T h e world can show, leave off in time to grieve, Inough, inough, your joyfull lookes excells; Teares kills the heart, believe, 0 strive not to be excellent in woe, Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.

107

T h e whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay; Ah see, who so faire thing docs faine to see, In springing flowre the image of thy day; Ah see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee

108

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

Doth first peepe forth with bashful1 modestee, That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may; Lo see soone after, how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display; Lo see soone after, how she fades, and falles away. So passeth, i n the passing of a day, Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre, N e more doth florish after first decay, That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre: Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime, For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre: Gather the Rose of loue, whilest yet is time, Whilest louing thou mayst loued be with equall crime. From T h e Faerie Queene, 11, xii

You're the maiden posies And so graced T o be placed 'Fore damask roses.

5

Yet, though thus respected, By-and-by Ye do die, Poor girls, neglected.

10

'5

Is Herrick telling you something, or just playing? T h e musician setting this would see to it that the first two syllables in the final line of each stanza got stressed. If the poem is read instead of sung, this stress comes naturally only in lines 8 and 16, and enforces the meaning only in line 16. Before dismissing verse because it reads awkwardly, be sure it isn't singing matter.

Are Spenser's lines singable; that is, if they were set to music, would the result be of any interest? Or is he giving a skillful "reading equivalent" of song? Notice the great stress the rhyme words achieve by occurring at junction points in the sense; this keeps one in mind of the intricate rhyme pattern. At lines 5 and 14 one expects a different rhyme from the one provided. Does the sense make use of this effect? Does it make use of the alexandrine with which each stanza closes? How? Spenser was a favorite with the poets of two centuries later, who were writing melodious verse without reference to actual music.

LAMENT

Geoffrey Chuucer, c. 1370

I have of sorwe so gret woon That joye gete 1 never noon, Now that I see my lady bright Which I have loved with a1 my might, Is fro me deed and is a-goon. Allas, Deeth, what ayleth thee, That thou noldest have taken me, W h a n thou toke my lady swete? That was so fayr, so fresh, so free, So good, that men may we1 see Of a1 goodnesse she had no mete!

VIOLETS

Robert Herrick, pub. 1648

108

109

From T h e Book of the Duchesse, 475-485

Welcome, maids of honour, You do bring In the Spring And wait upon her.

r . woon: abundance. 9. free: noble, gracious.

She has virgins many, Fresh and fair; Yet you are More sweet than any.

Herrick's Violets reads more lamely than it would sing. Does this? Does it contain any unnecessary words? Does Herrick's poem? 3. T h e words and sentiments are common and even commonplace. Is the poem?

7 . noldest: wouldst not. I r . mete: mate, equal.

Questions I.

2.

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

Doth first peepe forth with bashfull modestee, That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may; Lo see soone after, how more bold and free Her bared bosome she doth broad display; Lo see soone after, how she fades, and falles away. So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre, N e more doth florish after first decay, That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre: Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime, For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre: Gather the Rose of loue, whilest yet is time, Whilest louing thou mayst loued be with equall crime. From T h e Faerie Queene, 11, xii

You're the maiden posies And so graced T o be placed 'Fore damask roses.

5

Is Herrick telling you something, or just playing? T h e musician setting this would see to it that the first two syllables in the final line of each stanza got stressed. If the poem is read instead of sung, this stress comes naturally only in lines 8 and 16, and enforces the meaning only in line 16. Before dismissing verse because it reads awkwardly, be sure it isn't singing matter.

Are Spenser's lines singable; that is, if they were set to music, would the result be of any interest? Or is h e giving a skillful "reading equivalent" of song? Notice the great stress the rhyme words achieve by occurring at junction points in the sense; this keeps one in mind of the intricate rhyme pattern. At lines 5 and 14 one expects a different rhyme from the one provided. Does the sense make use of this effect? Does it make use of the alexandrine with which each stanza closes? How? Spenser was a favorite with the poets of two centuries later, who were writing melodious verse without reference to actual music.

LAMENT

Geoffrey Chuucer, c. 1370

I have of sorwe so gret woon That joye gete 1 never noon, Now that I see my lady bright Which I have loved with a1 my might, Is fro me deed and is a-goon. Allas, Deeth, what ayleth thee, That thou noldest have taken me, Whan thou toke my lady swete? That was so fayr, so fresh, so free, So good, that men may we1 see Of a1 goodnesse she had no mete!

VIOLETS

Robert Hertick, pub. 1648 Welcome, maids of honour, You do bring In the Spring And wait upon her. She has virgins many, Fresh and fair; Yet you are More sweet than any.

I0

Yet, though thus respected, By-and-by Ye do die, Poor girls, neglected.

10

'5

109

From T h e Book of the Duchesse, 475-485 r . woon: abundance. 9. free: noble, gracious.

7 . noldest: wouldst not. I r . mete: mate, equal.

Questions

Herrick's Violets reads more lamely than it would sing. Does this? Does it contain any unnecessary words? Does Herrick's poem? 3. T h e words and sentiments are common and even commonplace. Is the poem? I.

2.

110

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

4. When you read the next poem, contrast its dissipation among glamorous images and objects with Chaucer's concentration on his subject. Does Chaucer's simplicity debar him from emotional depth?

TO HELEN Edgar Allan Poe,

I

83 I

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicaean barks of yore That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, T h e weary, wayworn wanderer bore T o his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, T h y Naiad airs have brought me home T o the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! In yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, T h e agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land!

10

15

Questions

Do you need to know what "Nicaean" means? W h y or w l y not? Could the stanzas be arranged in a different order? 3. In lines 9-10, are the qualities of Greece and Rome being :.harply distinguished? Are you bcing given any information about th-m? Is what you already know about them clarified for you by Poe's wo~ds? 4. Do you think Poe is making an effort to imagine what it would have felt like to live in the civilizations to which he refers? If nct, why does he refer to them? 5. What is the alliteration used for in line 4? in lines 9-10! in 1:ne 12? 6. Are you meant to be impressed by the details of the poem, or by the design of the whole? Do you follow the sense, or wander seduced by the images and sounds? I.

2.

Get the words of any current popular song, and read them aloud as though you wanted to convey the sense, keeping the tune as mcch out

110

of your mind '1s possible. Are thcy of any interest? Do they seem quotable or mcmorable? \t'hy do you ~ ! l i l l l \ SO many songs with intentionally nonscnsical words become popular? T h e dcvices by which a song writer achieves singability for his lyric (as in the I Jcrric!< ar.4 Waller pocms 011 p a y s 103-lo4) should not bc confuscd with the devices by which a writer with no intention of having his poem sct to music achieves sonority (Spenser, Swinburne). When people talk a h o u ~verse being "musical" it is usually the latter kind of effect thcy mean. Rhythm and melody in the z~lordsare among the most powerful means at the poet's disposal for defining and controlling the meaning he wishes' to present. One can grasp the difference of mood between the Hcrrick and Waller rose-poems without closely following the sense. And whcn onc cloes pay attention to the sensc, it turns out to be in accordance with the impression obtained via the rhythm. Unfortunately, rhythm and melody are frequently used to compensate for absence of thought. Verse that so uses them isn't necessarily devoid' of interest. Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row! So they row'd, and there we landed-'0 venusta Sirmio!' There to me thro' all the groves of oli1.e in the summer glow, There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow, Came that 'Ave atque Vale' of the Poct's hopeless woe, 5 Tendercst of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago, 'F'rater Ave atque Vale,'-as we wander'd to and fro, Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the Garda Lake below, Sweet Catullus's all-but-island, olive-silvery Sirmio! Alfred, Lord T e n n ~ s o n ,1 8 8 ~ Thi; is perhaps a tour de force with 0's. T h e content is simply the fact that "we" paid a visit to Sirmio, where Catullus had a villa, and wandered about recalling a fciv of Catullus's phrases. One might ss!r that all this fuss with sound surrounds a couple of Englishmen working up tourists' emotions. Ternyson's other tour de force, his salute to Virgil, ends: I sa ute thee, Mantovano, I that loved thee since my day began, Wicdder of the stateliest measure ever moulded by the lips of man. This has bcen much quoted as a noble tributc. It is cxtraordinarily imprccis~:. Waller or Jonson wouldn't have claimed to have loved from

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

4. When you read the next poem, contrast its dissipation among glamorous images and objects with Chaucer's concentration on his subject. Does Chaucer's simplicity debar him from emotional depth?

TO HELEN Edgar Allan Poe,

I

83 1

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicaean barks of yore That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, T h e weary, wayworn wanderer bore T o his own native shore. O n desperate seas long wont to roam, T h y hyacinth hair, thy classic face, T h y Naiad airs have brought me home T o the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! In yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, T h e agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions which Are Holy Land!

10

15

Questions

Do you need to know what "Nicaean" means? W h y or w l y not? Could the stanzas be arranged in a different order? 3. In lines 9-10, are the qualities of Greece and Rome being :.harply distinguished? Are you bcing given any information about th-m? Is what you already know about them clarified for you by Poe's wo~ds? 4. Do you think Poe is making an effort to imagine what it would have felt like to live in the civilizations to which he refers? If nct, why does he refer to them? 5. What is the alliteration used for in line 4? in lines 9-10? in l!ne 12? 6. Are you meant to be impressed by the details of the poem, or by the design of the whole? Do you follow the sense, or wander seduced by the images and sounds? I.

2.

Get the words of any current popular song, and read them aloud as though you wanted to convey the sense, keeping the tune as mcch out

111

111

of your mind ,is possible. Are thcy of any interest? Do they seem quotable or mcmorable? V17hydo ( ~ L It!~inl\ SO many songs with intentionally nonscnsical words become popular? T h e dcviccs by which a song writer achieves singability for his lyric (as in tllc I Jcrlic!; :ir.d \;li,lller pocms on p a y s 103-104) should not be confuscd n ith thc devices by which a writer with no intention of having his poem s ~ to t music achieves sonority (Spenser, Swinburne). When people talk a h o u ~verse being "musical" it is usually the latter kind of effect thcy mean. Rhythm and melody in the zvords are among the most powerful means at the poet's disposal for defining and controlling the meaning he wishes to present. One can grasp the difference of mood between the Hcrrick and Waller rose-poems without closely following the sense. And whcn one cloes pay attention to the sense, it turns out to be in accordance with the impression obtained via the rhythm. Unfortunately, rhythm and melody are frequently used to compensate fcr absence of thought. Verse that so uses them isn't necessarily devoid of interest. Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row! St?they row'd, and there we landed-'0 venusta Sirmio!' There to me thro' all the groves of olive in the summer glow, There beneath the Roman ruin where the purple flowers grow, Came that 'Ave atque Vale' of the Poct's hopeless woe, Tcndercst of Roman poets nineteen hundred years ago, 'F'rater Ave atque Vale,'-as we wander'd to and fro, Gazing at the Lydian laughter of the Garda Lake below, Sweet Catullus's all-but-island, olive-silvery Sirmio! Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1885

5

Thi; is perhaps a tour de force with 0's. T h e content is simply the fact that "lwe" paid a visit to Sirmio, where Catullus had a villa, and wandered about recallirig a few of Catullus's phrases. One might say that all this fuss with sound surrounds a couple of Englishmen working up tourists' emotions. Ternyson's other tour de force, his salute to Virgil, ends: I sa ute thee. Mantovano, I that loved thee since my day began,

Wielder of the stateliest measure ever moulded by the lips of man. This l ~ a sbcen much quoted as a noble tribute. It is extraordinarily imprccis~:. Waller or Jonson wouldn't have claimed to have loved from

112

Song a n d Sonority

Useful Terms

infancy a poet they encountered in school days; and the sonority of the last line conceals the fact that a stately thing isn't wieldcd, and a measure is neither wielded nor molded, and nothing imaginable is molded by the lips. T h e two verbs have hopelessly lost touch with the sword and the bronze casting they faintly suggest. Tennyson's cult of sound betrayed his remarkable talent probably more often than it served it.

From A N ESSAY O N CRITICISM

Alexander Pope, I 7 I I 'Tis not enough no harshness give offence, T h e sound must seem an echo to the sense: Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, T h e hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar; When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, T h e line too labours, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th'unbendiq corn, and skims along the main.

From THE IDYLLS OF THE KING

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 87 I , I 859, I 842 And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, But let the drunkard, as he stretch'd from horse T o strike him, overbalancing his bulk, Down from the causeway heavily to the swamp Fall, as the crest of some slow-arching wave, Heard in dead night along that table-shore, Drops flat, and after the great waters break Whitening for half a league, and thin themselves, Far over sands marbled with moon and cloud, From less and less to nothing; .

..

10

Pope at the age of twenty-three is constructing fairly obvious examples. In his translation of Homer (1720) he makes Zeus threaten disobedient gods with sonorous penalties:

5

Back to the skies with shame he shall be driv'n, Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of Heav'n: Or far, oh far from steep Olympus thrown, Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall groan; With burning chains fix'd to the brazen floors, And lock'd by Hell's inexorable doors.

10

And even then he turn'd; and more and more T h e moony vapour rolling round the King, W h o seem'd the phantom of a Giant in it, Enwound him fold by fold, and made him gray And grayer, till himself became as mist Before her, moving ghostlike to his doom. Dry clash'd his harness on the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right T h e bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heelsAnd on a sudden, lo! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.

1 13

In T h e Rape of the Lock (1714) an army of tiny sylphs and sprites is admonished to a completely different musical accompaniment: Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, His post neglects, or leaves the fair at large, Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake his sins, Be stopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with pins; Or plunged in lakes of bitter washes lie, Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye.

5

In these examples Tennyson is attempting to match sound to sense, an idea that has received intermittent attention for centuries. T h e difficulty with such a style is that once you are committed to it, you find the range of possible subjects sharplv restricted.

In addition to diminishing the images, Pope shifts the entire soundpattern from the key of long o to that of short i, liberally peppered with consonants. Compare :

I

I

And lock'd by Hell's inexorable doors

...

Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye

...

114

Useful Terms

Song and Sonority

Such a technique opens the way to much more diverse and subtle effects than those available to mere mellifluousness. Rlellifluousncss can even disrupt idiom. TennYson's fondness Eor the word "athwart" is apparently traceable to his finding the sibilant in "across" unmanageable. Exercise

On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go; And what the hill's suddenness resists, win so.

1 15

T h e device of making a line end in the middle of a phrase has many uses: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; . . . -Keats, T o Autumn Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here Buckle! . -Hopkins, T h e Windhover

..

This fragment from Donne's Satire Ill (written in the last few years of the sixteenth century) illustrates the disregard for mcllifluous ease which has troubled influential readers of his verse in every subsequent century. Donne had other criteria in mind. Try to say what is lost by each of the following revisions:

I dream of a Ledaean body, bent Above a sinking fire, a tale that she Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event That changed some childish day to tragedy-Yeats, Among School Children

Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep; and he that will reach her, since he cclnnot climb straight to the top, must circle round and round, and come to her by degrees.

Examine each of these effects; then contrast the sense of enervation Keats obtains by making the phrases and the lines coincide exactly:

I.

2.

On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that would Reach her, about must, and about must go . . .

3.

O n a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, round and round about must go .

..

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star, Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. -Keats, Hyperion

From BIRD-WITTED

4. Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep,

Marianne Moore, I94 I

And he that will reach her, his course must keep Around and round .

..

5.

On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go, And so attain her, circling from below.

6.

On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go; And what the hill's rockiness resists, win so.

114

With innocent wide penguin eyes, three large fledgling mocking-birds below the pussy-willow tree, stand in a row, wings touching, feebly solemn, till they see their no longer larger mother bringing something which will partially feed one of them.

Useful Terms

Song and Sonority

Such a technique opens the way to much more diverse and subtle effects than those available to mere mellifluousness. Rlellifluousncss can even disrupt idiom. TennYson's fondness for the word "athwart" is apparently traceable to his finding the sibilant in "across" unmanageable. Exercise

On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go; And what the hill's suddenness resists, win so.

115

T h e device of making a line end in the middle of a phrase has many uses: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; . . . -Keats, T o Autumn Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here Buckle! . -Hopkins, T h e Windhover

..

This fragment from Donne's Satire Ill (written in the last few years of the sixteenth century) illustrates the disregard for mcllifluous ease which has troubled influential readers of his verse in every subsequent century. Donne had other criteria in mind. Try to say what is lost by each oE the following revisions:

I dream of a Ledaean body, bent Above a sinking fire, a tale that she Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event That changed some childish day to tragedy-Yeats, Among School Children

Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep; and he that will reach her, since he cclnnot climb straight to the top, must circle round and round, and come to her by degrees.

Examine each of these effects; then contrast the sense of enervation Keats obtains by making the phrases and the lines coincide exactly:

I.

2.

On a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that would Reach her, about must, and about must go . . .

3.

O n a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, round and round about must go .

..

4. Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep, And he that will reach her, his course must keep Around and round .

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star, Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. -Keats, Hyperion

From BIRD-WITTED

Marianne Moore, I94 I

..

5.

O n a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go, And so attain her, circling from below.

6.

O n a huge hill, Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Reach her, about must, and about must go; And what the hill's rockiness resists, win so.

With innocent wide penguin eyes, three large fledgling mocking-birds below the pussy-willow tree, stand in a row, wings touching, feebly solemn, till they see their no longer larger mother bringing something which will partially feed one of them.

116

Useful Terms

Toward the high-keyed intermittent squeak of broken carriage-springs, made by the three similar, meekcoated bird's-eye freckled forms she comes; and when from the beak of one, the still living beetle has dropped out, she picks it up and puts it in again.

Song and Sonority

Catholic power to the captivity of the Chosen People in Babylon; what does it imply about the status of Catholics and Protestants in God's eyes? Does line 4 charge pre-Reformation England with idolatry? 15

Questions

Try to determine the pace at which the poem is most effectively

I.

read.

20

2. Mark all the words which should be dwelt upon in order to convey to a listener the maximum impressiveness of which the poem is capable. Do these words have any common property? 3. Now determine very carefully the grammar and sentence structure of the first sentence in the poem, and try to devise a way of reading it aloud so that its grammatical structure is perfectly clear to a hearer. Is this the same reading that conveys the maximum charge? 4. Is the order in which the ideas in the first ten lines occur important? 5. T h e image in the last five lines appears to be based on the Greek story of Cadmus, who slew a dragon and planted its teeth. They grew into armed warriors. For "a hundred-fold," see the Parable of the Sower, Matthew I 3: 8. What is Milton telling God to do? 6. What is the tone of the four imperative verbs in the poem? Respectful? Peremptory? Neutral? Confident? Appealing? 7. T h e sense of the poem hinges on these four verbs. Of how many of them is one clearly aware when one reads? -

Questions I . What sound effect is achieved by dividing the word at the end of line 13? 2. W h y is the phrase "dropped out" divided (lines 18-19)? the phrase "puts it in" (lines l9-2o)? 3. What effect is secured by printing lines 4-5 as above instead of combining them into one line?

O N THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT John Milton, 1655

Avenge, 0 Lord, thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old W h e n all our fathers worship't Stocks and Stones Forget not: in thy book record their groans W h o were thy Sheep, and in their ancient Fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that roll'd Mother with Infant down the Rocks. Their moans T h e Vales redoubled to the Hills, and they T o Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway T h e triple Tyrant: that from these may grow A hundred-fold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

117

A

,

Pace: Ihe rate a t which the poem reveals itself.,

5

Pace is determined partly by the appropriate speed of reading, partly by the frequency with which, moving through the poem, one encounters something new.

IG

T h e victims belonged to a Protestant sect (the Waldensians); Milton held an official position in Oliver Cromwell's Puritan government, and wrote several official letters to European rulers on the Waldensians' behalf. "Triple" (line 12) refers to the Pope's crown. Line 14 links

"AT THE ROUND EARTH'S IMAGINED CORNERS BLOW" John Donne, c. 16I 8

At the round earth's imagined corners blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go: All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow, Paraphrased from John Ciardi.

5

118

I

Useful Terms

All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you, whose eyes Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe. But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space; For, if above all these my sins abound, 'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace, When we are there. Here on this lowly ground, Teach me how to repent, for that's as good As if Thou hadst seal'd my pardon with T h y blood.

Song and Sonority

And when this song is song and past: My lute be stvll for I have done. As to be heard where enre is none: As lead to grave in marble stone: My song may pearse her hart as sone. Should we then sigh? or singe, or mone? No, no, my lute for I have done. T h e rockes do not so cruelly Repulse the wsIres continually, As she my sute and affection: So that I am past remedy, Wherby my lute and I have done. Proude of the spoile that thou hast gotte Of simple hartes through lo~e'sshot: Bp whom unkinde thou hast thcm wonne, Thinlte not he hath his bow forgot, Although my lute and I have done. Vengeaunce shall fall on thy disdaine That makest but game on earnest payne. Thinke not alone under the sunne 1-Inquit to cause thy lovers plaine: Although my lute and I ha1.e done. May chance thee lie witherd and olde, In winter nightes that are so colde, Playning in vaine unto the mone: Thy wishes then dare not be tolde. Care then who list, for I have done. And then may chance thee to repent T h e time that thou hact lost and spent T o cause thy lovcrs sigh and sLz7oTvne. Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I have done. Now cease my lute this is the last Labour that thou and I shall wast, And ended is that we bcgonne. Now is this song both song and past, My lute be still for I have done.

10

I

Questions

What event is the speaker impatient for in lines 1-87 Distinguish "there" and "here" in line 12. 3. Investigate the relation between the sound and sense of the poem, as you did for Milton's Massacre in Piednzont (see questions I to 3 on the latter poem). Do you discern any differences between the two poems in this respect? 4. Note that, unlike Milton, Donne drops the recurring "0" sound after line 8. Why? 5. Why "mourn" (line g)? For the dead? For his own sins? Is mourning a pivilege? A luxury? 6. Line 5 specifies "the flood." What "fire" is referred to? What span of time is implied? 7. God is responsible for the calamities in line 5. Is he responsible in the same degree for those in lines 6-7? Can the latter be simply lumped together as disasters, or can varying degrees of excuse be made for some of them? Are they equally offensive to God? How does this help explain "above all these" in line IO? 8. Explain lines I 3-14. W h y "AS if"? 9. What is the tone of the address to God in lines 9-14? Is it like Milton's in the Piedmont sonnet? 10. Note that lines 1-8 are not addressed to God. Is Donne acting as though he could bring on the Last Judgment himself by demanding it loudly enough? What feelings about the event does he display in these lines? in the first half of line g? I.

2.

THE LOVER COMPLAYNETH THE UNKINDNES OF HIS LOVE Sir T h u s W y a t t ( I 5 0 3 - ~ 5 4 z )

My lute awake performe the last Labour that thou and I shall waste: And end that I have now begonne:

119

I

7. grave: engrave.

24. unquit: unpunished.

33. w o w n e : sorrow.

Questions I . Lines 6-10 and 26-30 employ the open o sound, ~zlhichhas been the recurrent resource of subsequent poets when an air of portentousness

5

120

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

is wanted. Does Wyatt employ it for the same purpose as Milton in O n the Late Massac~ein Piedmont (page 1 16)? 2. What is the effect of the recurrent rhyme on "done"? Would it be as effective if a different sound were employed: for instance, if the refrain ran, "My lute be still, for that is all"?

THE LlLY AND THE ROSE

Anonymous, fifteenth OT sixteenth century T h e maidens came When I was in my mother's bower, I had all that I would. T h e bailey beareth the bell away; T h e lily, the rose, the rose I lay.

Note the frequent m's and n's. T h e scheme of sounds in the poem is related to the relatively low register of the lute. An appropriate tune for the poem wouldn't sound well if transposed for a pipe.

T h e silver is white, red is the gold; T h e robes they lay in fold. T h e bailey beareth the bell away; T h e lily, the rose, the rose I lay.

ODE

Basil Bunting, 1950 Let them remember Samangan, the bridge and tower and rutted cobbles and the coppersmith's hammer, where we looked out from the walls to the marble mountains ate and lay and were happy an hour and a night;

so that the heart never rests from love of the city without lies or riches, whose old women straight as girls at the well are beautiful, its old men and its wineshops gay.

121

And through the glass windows shines the sun. How should I love, and I so young? T h e bailey beareth the bell away; T h e lily, the rose, the rose I lay.

5

10

T h e only aspect of this poem that has been satisfactorily explained is the fact that line 4 means "The bailiff carries off the prize." (The bailey or bailiff was one charged with public administrative authority in a certain district.) How would you account for the repeated presence of this mysterious poem in anthologies?

Let them remember Samangan against usurers, cheats and cheapjacks, amongst boasters, hideous children of cautious marriages, those who drink in contempt of joy.

TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM

John Dryden, 1684 Let them remember Samangan, remember they wept to remember the hour and go.

Farewell, too little and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own: For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine. O n e common note on either lyre did strike, And knaves and fools we both abhorred alike. T o the same goal did both our studies drive: T h e last set out the soonest did arrive. Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery place, Whilst his young friend performed and won the race. 0 early ripe! to thy abundant store What could advancing age have added more?

Verse of unusual metrical interest. Compare the way the accents are spaced in lines 1-4 and lines 5-8, and notice the employment of monosyllables to indicate stanza terminations. Questions 1. Is the comparison of the two civilizations reinforced by the management of sound? Do lines 9-12 seem dragged in? overvehement? 2. Is it simply two moods that get compared, or does the poet present the civilization of Samangan concretely enough to justify his flinging it against the inhabitants of a modern Western city?

10

1 120

Song and Sonority

Useful Terms

is wanted. Does Wyatt employ it for the same purpose as Milton in O n the Late Massac~ein Piedmont (page 116)? 2. W h a t is the effect of the recurrent rhyme on "done"? Would it be as effective if a different sound were employed: for instance, if the refrain ran, "My lute be still, for that is all"? Note the frequent m's and n's. T h e scheme of sounds in the poem is related to the relatively low register of the lute. An appropriate tune for the poem wouldn't sound well if transposed for a pipe.

THE LlLY AND THE ROSE

Anonymous, fifteenth or sixteenth century T h e maidens came When I was in my mother's bower, I had all that 1 would. T h e bailey beareth the bell away; T h e lily, the rose, the rose I lay. T h e silver is white, red is the gold; T h e robes they lay in fold. T h e bailey beareth the bell away; T h e lily, the rose, the rose I lay.

ODE

Basil Bunting, 1950 Let them remember Samangan, the bridge and tower and rutted cobbles and the coppersmith's hammer, where we looked out from the walls to the marble mountains ate and lay and were happy an hour and a night;

so that the heart never rests from love of the city without lies or riches, whose old women straight as girls at the well are beautiful, its old men and its wineshops gay.

121

And through the glass windows shines the sun. How should I love, and I so young? T h e bailey beareth the bell away; T h e lily, the rose, the rose I lay.

5

Let them remember Samangan against usurers, cheats and cheapjacks, amongst boasters, hideous children of cautious marriages, those who drink in contempt of joy.

10

T h e only aspect of this poem that has been satisfactorily explained is the fact that line 4 means "The bailiff carries off the prize." (The bailey or bailiff was one charged with public administrative authority in a certain district.) How would you account for the repeated presence of this mysterious poem in anthologies?

TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM

John Dryden, 1684 Let them remember Samangan, remember they wept to remember the hour and go. Verse of unusual metrical interest. Compare the way the accents are spaced in lines 1-4 and lines 5-8, and notice the employment of monosyllables to indicate stanza terminations. Questions I . Is the comparison of the two civilizations reinforced by the management of sound? Do lines 9-12 seem dragged in? overvehement? 2. Is it simply two moods that get compared, or does the poet present the civilization of Samangan concretely enough to justify his flinging it against the inhabitants of a modern Western city?

Farewell, too little and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own: For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine. O n e common note on either lyre did strike, And knaves and fools we both abhorred alike. T o the same goal did both our studies drive: T h e last set out the soonest did arrive. Thus Nisus fell upon the slippery lace, Whilst his young friend ~erformedand won the race. 0 early ripe! to thy abundant store What could advancing age have added more?

5

10

122

Useful Terms

It might (what nature never gives the young) Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue. But satire needs not those, and wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line. A noble error, and but seldom made, When poets are by too much force betrayed. T h y generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime, Still showed a quickness; and maturing time But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of rhyme. Once more, hail and farewell! farewell, thou young, But, ah! too short, Marcellus of our tongue! T h y brows with ivy and with laurels bound; But fate and gloomy night encompass thee around.

Song and Sonority

'5

123

ing to end in mid-air. It is an unusually virtuosic ending; is this in keeping with the theme? T h e race of Nisus and Euryalus is recounted in Virgil, Aeneid, V. T h e lament for the unborn hlarcellus is at the end of Aeneid, VI. Oldham himself drew heavily on the classics, and would have relished both compliments.

20

25

John Oldham died at the age of thirty, in 1683; Dryden was then fifty-two. T h e meaning of the poem turns on the word "numbers" in line 14. It refers to the whole art of managing rhythms and vowel sequences. Does Dryden regard this art as inborn or acquired? Does line 14 accuse Oldham of total incompetence? Consider how the next two lines palliate his defect, and lines 17-18 virtually turn it into a badge of merit. Cf. Roy Campbell's epigram, O n Some South African Novelists: You praise the firm restraint with which they writeI'm with you there, of course: They use the snafie and the curb all right, But where's the bloody horse? "Thy native tongue": Oldham would have learned the numbers of the Latin tongue at Oxford. T h e sonorities of the opening lines are evident. T h e mature Dryden is giving a demonstration of the management of numbers. Is the verse movement more jagged in lines I 5-16? Why? Note how the image of line I I is reworked in lines 19-21. W h y "dull sweets" (line 21)? IS it appropriate to mature fruits? What attitudes to his own competence and Oldham's "force" does it balance? What does "quickness" mean (line zo)? Lines 21 and 25 have two extra syllables; such six-beat lines are called alexandrines. Lines 19-21 constitute a t r i ~ l e t(three rhymes instead of two). T h e scheme of lines 19-25-triplet with alexandrine, couplet, couplet with alexandrine-makes a polyphonic ending which solves the difficult problem of closing a very short poem in couplets without seem-

122

Useful Terms

It might (what nature never gives the young) Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue. But satire needs not those, and wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line. A noble error, and but seldom made, When poets are by too much force betrayed. T h y generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime, Still showed a quickness; and maturing time But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of rhyme. Once more, hail and farewell! farewell, thou young, But, ah! too short, Marcellus of our tongue! T h y brows with ivy and with laurels bound; But fate and gloomy night encompass thee around.

Song and Sonority

'5

20

25

John Oldham died at the age of thirty, in 1683; Dryden was then fifty-two. T h e meaning of the poem turns on the word "numbers" in line 14. It refers to the whole art of managing rhythms and vowel sequences. Does Dryden regard this art as inborn or acquired? Does line 14 accuse Oldham of total incompetence? Consider how the next two lines palliate his defect, and lines 17-18 virtually turn it into a badge of merit. Cf. Roy Campbell's epigram, O n Some South African Novelists: You praise the firm restraint with which they writeI'm with you there, of course: They use the snafie and the curb all right, But where's the bloody horse? "Thy native tongue": Oldham would have learned the numbers of the Latin tongue at Oxford. T h e sonorities of the opening lines are evident. T h e mature Dryden is giving a demonstration of the management of numbers. Is the verse movement more jagged in lines I 5-16? Why? Note how the image of line I I is reworked in lines 19-2 I . W h y "dull sweets" (line 21)? Is it appropriate to mature fruits? What attitudes to his own competence and Oldham's "force" does it balance? What does "quickness" mean (line LO)? Lines 21 and 25 have two extra syllables; such six-beat lines are called alexandrines. Lines 19-21 constitute a triplet (three rhymes instead of two). T h e scheme of lines 19-25-triplet with alexandrine, couplet, couplet with alexandrine-makes a polyphonic ending which solves the difficult problem of closing a very short poem in couplets without seem-

123

ing to end in mid-air. It is an unusually virtuosic ending; is this in keeping with the theme? T h e race of Nisus and Euryalus is recounted in Virgil, Aeneid, V. T h e lament for the unborn Rlarccllus is at the end of Aeneid, VI. Oldham himself drew heavily on the classics, and would have relished both compliments.

Narrative and Meaning

"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor, That sails upon the se." T h e king has written a braid letter, And signd it wi his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand.

rn %ative

and Meaning

T h e first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauchPd he; T h e next line that Sir Patrick red, T h e teir blinded his ee.

"0 wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, T o send me out this time o' the yeir, T o sail upon the se!

Nothing holds the attention like a story, as Homer's listeners knew, and nothing is harder than to tell one without waste motion. T h e next two poems, two of the best known from the hundreds of extant border ballads, illustrate some of the principles involved. They are followed by two poems of Wordsworth's which throw a narrator's difficulties into relief and help explain why so little English narrative poetry has remained in circulation. T h e problems it presents are so tricky that most poets have preferred to dispense with storytelling and devise a short cut, sometimes implying a story, or referring to a story the reader already knows. Later, we shall disentangle from storytelling the much more general conception of plot. When we do this we shall discover that every poem has a plot, which is not the same thing as a story.

"Mak hast, mak hast, my mirry men all Our guid schip sails the morne:" "0say na sae, my master deir, For I fear a deadlie storme. "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone, W i the auld moone in hir arme, And I feir, I feir, my deir master, T h a t we will cum to harme."

0 our Scots nobles wer richt laith T o weet their cork-heild schoone; But lang owre a' the play wer playd, Thair hats they swam aboone.

0 lang, lang may their ladies sit, SIR PATRICK SPENCE Anonymous

T h e king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine: "0what will I get guid sailor, T o sail this schip of mine?" U p and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the kings richt kne: 124

W i thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land.

0 lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kems in their hair Waiting for thar ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair. 14. lauch: laugh. 9. braid: broad. 29. schoone: shoes. 30. owre: ere.

16. ee: eye. 28. Zaith: loath. 37. kems: combs.

125

126

Useful Terms

Narrative and Meaning

Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, W i the Scots lords at his feit.

H e turned him right and round about, And the tear blinded his ee: "I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee.

127

I0

41.owre: over.

"I might hae had a king's daughter, Far, far beyond the sea;

Though scholars hold conflicting views on the subject, it seems probable that the ballads have survived generations of oral transmission because the detail which was gradually omitted by people who were bored with it was laid on a solid narrative. There is no reason to suppose that the anonymous composers had a genius for lightning narration; it seems, on the contrary, reasonable to suppose that the original versions were interminable. T h e present version of Sir Patrick Spence was written down in the middle of the eighteenth century; it was composed perhaps three hundred years before that. Longer versions have been collected, in which the process of condensation was less complete. O n e has twentytwo stanzas, seven describing the wreck itself. Between lines 28 and 29 the most spectacular incident in the story is omitted. Docs this give greater narrative intensity (the reader able to imagine more than the writer can describe)? Or is one :upposed to bother about imagining the shipwreck? Is the poem "about" something other than the physical events? If there is no space at all for the shipwreck, why are there eight lines about the ladies? What is the relation between the first stanza and the last? Note that the wine is '%lude-reid," the shoes "cork-heild," and the combs "gold." Are these "realistic" touches, or do they impose a convention on the story?

I might have had a king's daughter, Had it not been for love o thee."

"If ye might have had a king's daughter, Yer sel ye had to blame; Ye might have had taken the king's daughter. For ye kend that I was nane.

20

"If I was to leave my husband dear, And my two babes also,

0 what have you to take me to, If with you I should go?"

"I hae seven ships upon the seaT h e eighth brought me to landWith four-and-twenty bold mariners, And music on every hand." She has taken u p her two little babes, Kissd them baith cheek and chin: "0fair ye weel, my ain two babes, For I'll never see you again."

THE DEMON LOVER

Anonymous She set her foot upon the ship, No mariners could she behold; But the sails were o the taffetie, And the masts o the beaten gold.

"0 where have you been, my long, long love, This long seven years and mair?"

"0I'm come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before."

She had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie grew his ee.

"0 hold your tongue of your former vows, For they will breed sad strife;

0 hold your tongue of your former vows, For

126

I am become a wife."

20.

kend: knew.

3 5 . taffetie: silk.

Useful Terms

40. drumlie: dark.

Narrative and Meaning

Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, W i the Scots lords at his feit.

H e turned him right and round about, And the tear blinded his ee: "I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee.

4 I. owre: over.

"I might hae had a king's daughter, Far, far beyond the sea;

Though scholars hold conflicting views on the subject, it seems probable that the ballads have survived generations of oral transmission because the detail whirh was gradually omitted by people who were bored with it was laid on a solid narrative. There is no reason to suppose that the anonymous composers had a genius for lightning narration; it seems, on the contrary, reasonable to suppose that the original versions were interminable. T h e present version of Sir Patrick Spence was written down in the middle of the eighteenth century; it was composed perhaps three hundred years before that. Longer versions have been collected, in which the process of condensation was less complete. One has twentytwo stanzas, seven describing the wreck itself. Between lines 28 and 29 the most spectacular incident in the story is omitted. Docs this give greater narrative intensity (the reader able to imagine more than the writer can describe)? Or is one :upposed to bother about imagining the shipwreck? Is the poem "about" something other than the physical events? If there is no space at all for the shipwreck, why are there eight lines about the ladies? What is the relation between the first stanza and the last? Note that the wine is "blude-reid," the shoes "cork-heild," and the combs "gold." Are these "realistic" touches, or do they impose a convention on the story?

I might have had a king's daughter, Had it not been for love o thee."

"If ye might have had a king's daughter, Yer sel ye had to blame; Ye might have had taken the king's daughter. For ye kend that I was nane. "If I was to leave my husband dear, And my two babes also, 0 what have you to take me to, If with you I should go?"

"I hae seven ships upon the seaT h e eighth brought me to landWith four-and-twenty bold mariners, And music on every hand." She has taken u p her two little babes, Kissd them baith cheek and chin: "0fair ye weel, my ain two babes, ' 1 never see you again." For 11

THE DEMON LOVER

Anonymous She set her foot upon the ship, N o mariners could she behold; But the sails were o the taffetie, And the masts o the beaten gold.

"0 where have you been, my long, long love, This long seven years and mair?"

"0I'm come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before."

She had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie grew his ee.

"0 hold your tongue of your former vows, For they will breed sad strife;

0 hold your tongue of your former vows, For I am become a wife."

20.

kend: knew.

3 5 . taffetie: silk.

40. drumlie: dark.

127

I0

128

Useful Terms

Narrative and Meaning

They had not saild a league, a league, A league but barely three, Until she espied his cloven foot, And she wept right bitterlie.

An inferior version of T h e Demon Lover, twenty lines longer than this one, may be found in T h e Oxford Book of Ballads. After line 8, for instance, we find the stanza,

"I am married to a ship-carpenter, " 0 hold your tongue of your weeping," says he, "Of your weeping now let me be; I will shew you how the lilies grow O n the banks of Italy."

45

A ship-carpenter he's bound;

I wadna he kenn'd my mind this nicht For twice five hundi-ed pound." Why does this reduce the intensity of the dialogue?

"0what are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on?" LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE William Wordsworth, I 799

"0yon are the hills of heaven," he said, "Where you will never win."

"0whaten a mountain is yon," she said, "All so dreary wi frost and snow?" " 0 yon is the mountain of hell," he cried, 'Where you and I will go."

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55

H e strack the tap-mast wi his hand, T h e fore-mast wi his knee, And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea. Questions I . T h e significant action all takes place between stanzas: what happens between lines 20 and 217 between lines 28 and 29? between lines 48 and 49? Note that she made vows, and broke them, before the poem opens. Probably only the prose of Henry James could treat her thought processes directly; the ballad manages to imply great psychological complexity by the juxtaposition of speeches and situations. 2. W h y exactly four-and-twenty mariners (line 27)? W h y the details about the sails and masts (lines 35-36)? W h y the pat contrast of the hills and the mountain in lines 49-56? Do these schematic and conventional details detract from the reality of the poem? Or has their fairy-tale quality something in common with the climate of the woman's mind? 3. Much of the action (e.g., lines 9 - ~ o ) has the quality of a brightly lighted puppet show. Is this a mark of nai'vetC in the poem, or does it bring the psychological drama into relief? 4. W h y docs the demon increase to monstrous size in the last stanza? 5. Did he actually answer her first question (lines I-2)? her second (lines 21-24)? When does he begin telling her what she wants to know?

Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray; And, when I crossed the wild, I chanced to see at break of day T h e solitary child. N o mate, no comrade, Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide moor, -The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the fawn at play, T h e hare upon the green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. "To-night will be a stormy nightYou to the town must go; And take a lantern, Child, to light Your mother through the snow." "That, Father! will I gladly do: 'Tis scarcely afternoonT h e minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the moon!" At this the father raised his hook, And snapped a faggot-band; H e plied his work;-and Lucy took T h e lantern in her hand.

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Narrative and Meaning

Useful Terms

O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.

Not blither is the rnountain roe: With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powdery snow, That rises up like smoke. T h e storm came on before its time: She wandered up and down; And many a hill did Lucy climb; But never reached the town. T h e wretched parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight T o serve them for a guide. At daybreak on a hill they stood That overlooked the moor; And thence they saw a bridge of wood, A furlong from their door. They wept-and, turning homeward, cried, "In heaven we all shall meet"; -When in the snow the mother spied T h e print of Lucy's feet. Then downwards from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small; And through the broken hawthorn hedge, And by the long stone wall; And then an open field they crossed: T h e marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none! Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild.

131

Percy's pioneer collection of ballads was published in 1765 and reached its fourth edition in 1794. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads collec8 , contain numerous attempts to duplicate the comlections ( 1 ~ ~1800) bination, found in the best ballads, of high emotional potential and economical narrative. L z c y Gray is one such attempt. T h e stanza form, the ghost theme, the presentation of a situation through dialogue are all signs that Wordsworth is imitating a ballad. Can you find more? Questions I . W h a t is the image in line 7? W h y are the fawn and the hare used in lines 9-1 o? 2. Do lines 35-36 desert the concreteness of ballad language? 3. Is there any reason for lines 41-42 being placed where they are? 4. What effect does Wordsworth intend at line 56? Does he get it? Would your hearer be likely to laugh at this ~ o i n t W ? h y or why not?

The death of a child contains great emotional potential. Wordsworth's error was to suppose that this potential could be released by narrating the circumstances in simple language. T h e Demon Lover contains a complex psychological action and concerns the loss of a woman's soul. Sir Patrick Syence releases ironies from the Pyrrhic revenge of a hero over a tyrant king. T h e theme is large enough in each case to control a stable attitude in the reader with quite simple presentation. T h e reader's attitude to the death of Lucy is unstable because Wordsworth's simple presentation can't control our impulse to smile. How is one's comic sense gratified in T h e Demon Lover? in Sir Patrick Syence? Are the ironies there inherent in the theme, or have they been smuggled in by "treatment"? W h y can Wordsworth not afford to allow any comic responses to emerge from the story of Lucy? Inspection of Lucy Gray will reveal that it is in the narrative portions that the tone gets precarious. T h e next poem and S h e Dwelt Among the Untrodden :Vays (page 3 8 ) deal with the same theme but get rid of the narrative. "A SLUMBER DID M Y SPIRIT SEAL** W i l l i a m Wordsworth, r 799

A slumber did my spirit seal; I had no human fears :

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Useful Terms

She seemed a thing that could not feel T h e touch of earthly years. N o motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.

5

Questions

When she was alive "she seemed a thing"; now she has become one. In what way has she felt "the touch of earthly years"? I n what way has she not felt it? 2. What is the force of "human" in line z? 3. What is the connection between the two stanzas? I.

m m

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

Note that the order of the words is prose order; the single unusual word, "diurnal," has a function. It is an abstract, technical term. If you have grasped the poem you should be able to say what its function is.

IMMORTAL HELIX

There was a young lady of Lynn W h o was so exceedingly thin That when she essayed T o drink lemonade She slipped through the straw and fell in.

Archibald MacLeish, 1926 Hereunder Tacob Schmidt who, man and bones, Has been his hundred times around the sun. His chronicle is endless-the great curve Inscribed in nothing by a point upon T h e spinning surface of a circling sphere.

5

Dead bones roll on. Questions I. W h y is the sphere in line 5 both "spinning" and "circling? W h a t is the shape of the "great curve"? 2. With what feelings are you meant to contemplate the reduction of Jacob Schmidt's career to a mathematical figure? 3. Rlight this poem have originated with a passage in an astronomy book? might Wordsworth's? Which poem do you find the more interesting? Why?

This touching presentation isn't completed until the end of the last line; notice, however, that the last line by itself is insufficient. Each line draws us on to the next. When we have reached the last line we know that there doesn't need to be another. This forward movement, line by line, from the beginning of the poem to the end of the poem, may be called the plot. T h e most obvious, and perhaps least common, means of carrying the plot forward is narrative. T h e poem tells a story, and is finished when the story is. T h e forward motion of events is used to carry the poem forward. T h e difficulty of discovering or devising a story that will completely fill out the desired movement of the poem is so great that the whole literature of the world presents only a handful of examples of this method. There are very many poems that contain stories somewhere inside them, but the sequence of events in the story isn't the same thing as the plot of the poem. T u r n back to Wordsworth's Lucy Grav (page 1 2 ~ )T. h e poem is sixty133

132

Useful Terms

She seemed a thing that could not feel T h e touch of earthly years. N o motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.

5

Questions I. When she was alive "she seemed a thing"; now she has become one. In what way has she felt "the touch of earthly years"? I n what way has she not felt it? 2. What is the force of "human" in line z? 3. What is the connection between the two stanzas?

Note that the order of the words is prose order; the single unusual word, "diurnal," has a function. It is an abstract, technical term. If you have grasped the poem you should be able to say what its function is.

m m

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

IMMORTAL HELIX

There was a young lady of Lynn W h o was so exceedingly thin That when she essayed T o drink lemonade She slipped through the straw and fell in.

Archibald MacLeish, 1926 Hereunder Tacob Schmidt who, man and bones, Has been his hundred times around the sun. His chronicle is endless-the great curve Inscribed in nothing by a point upon T h e spinning surface of a circling sphere.

5

Dead bones roll on. Questions I. W h y is the sphere in line 5; both "spinning" and "circling? What is the shape of the "great curve"? 2. With what feelings are you meant to contemplate the reduction of Jacob Schmidt's career to a mathematical figure? 3. Rlight this poem have originated with a passage in an astronomy book? might Wordsworth's? Which poem do you find the more interesting? Why?

This touching presentation isn't completed until the end of the last line; notice, however, that the last line by itself is insufficient. Each line draws us on to the next. When we have reached the last line we know that there doesn't need to be another. This forward movement, line by line, from the beginning of the poem to the end of the poem, mav be called the plot. T h e most obvious, and perhaps least common, means of carrying the plot forward is narrative. T h e poem tells a story, and is finished when the story is. T h e forward motion of events is used to carry the poem forward. T h e difficulty of discovering or devising a story that will completely fill out the desired movement of the poem is so great that the whole literature of the world presents only a handful of examples of this method. There are very many poems that contain stories somewhere inside them, but the sequence of events in the story isn't the same thing as the plot of the poem. T u r n back to Wordsworth's Lucy Grav (page 129). T h e poem is sixty133

134

Useful Terms

four lines long. T h e story of Lucy begins at line 1 3 and ends at line 56. T h e plot of the poem begins with line I and ends with line 64. Plot-the means b y which the poem gets from its own beginning to its own ending.

T h e beginning of Wordsworth's poem is the title:

LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE

Its ending is, Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song And whistles in the wind. In between, we discover, among other things, a story; but the story isn't the plot of the poem. W h a t happens between the title and the end of the poem is the slow emergence of an image of solitude: the solitary person independent, autonomous, and as inaccessible as a ghost. In this independence there are loss and pathos for other people, but for the solitary person himself a kind of freedom: if you had the last stanza by itself you would think it was an image of a happy, independent life. Before you go on with this page, read the whole poem through again. In the first three stanzas Lucy is presented in a remote and wraithlike way. Suddenly, in lines 13-20, we hear her father's voice talking to her and her voice replying. W h a t is the effect of this, coming as it does without warning after lines 1-12? In lines 21-24 she and her father turn away from each other; each has something to do. Do they forget one another's existence? Lines 25-32 follow Lucv's wanderings. Are they vividly presented? Are we encouraged to imagine her emotions, or share them? Is there any hint of terror, panic, and the like?

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Useful Terms

four lines long. T h e story of Lucy begins at line 1 3 and ends at line 56. T h e plot of the poem begins with line I and ends with line 64. Plot-the means b y which the poem gets from its own beginning t o its own ending.

T h e beginning of Wordsworth's poem is the title:

LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE

Its ending is, Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song And whistles in the wind. In between, we discover, among other things, a story; but the story isn't the plot of the poem. W h a t happens between the title and the end of the poem is the slow emergence of an image of solitude: the solitary person independent, autonomous, and as inaccessible as a ghost. I n this independence there are loss and pathos for other people, but for the solitary person himself a kind of freedom: if you had the last stanza by itself you would think it was an image of a happy, independent life. Before you go on with this page, read the whole poem through again. I n the first three stanzas Lucy is presented in a remote and wraithlike way. Suddenly, in lines I 3-20, we hear her father's voice talking to her and her voice replying. What is the effect of this, coming as it does without warning after lines 1-12? In lines 21-24 she and her father turn away from each other; each has something to do. Do they forget one another's existence? Lines 25-32 follow Lucv's wanderings. Are they vividly presented? Are we encouraged to imagine her emotions, or share them? Is there any hint of terror, panic, and the like?

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

135

In line 33 we receive a hint of the parents' emotional state; and again in lines 41-42. Their explicit emotions then vanish from the poem. W h y ? W i t h line 57 Lucy's return to visibility commences; by line 61 she is fully present; and it takes us a moment to realize that the last line of the poem may apply equally to a solitary child and to a ghost. These changes of vividness, shifts of focus, are events i n the plot of the poem. T h e events in the story belong to a different realm entirely. Actual happenings all possess the same degree of immediacy: a nuclear explosion, the descent of a fly swatter, or the descent of snow. Our lives are full of actual happenings; there is no need for poems to add more. Wordsworth's attention is on managing a long diminuendo, from the two stanzas of dialogue-each speaker fully present to the other-to the finale in which they have vanished from sight and she is a free, solitary being: but a ghost. Plot-the succession of events in the poem.

I

T h e reader of the poem is interested in what happens o n the page, not in some universe of familiar activity to which the words on the page may refer. A lyric poem has a plot, although it doesn't "tell a story" or outline a sequence of "real-life" events. So does a passage of Shakespearean soliloquy: Witness this army of such mass and charge Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition pufF'd Makes mouths at the invisible event Exposing what is mortal and unsure T o all that fortune, death and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. Shakespeare, Hamlet, IV, iv W e start with an expansive gesture, its substance enforced by the prolonged sound and large abstractness of the words mr.cs and charge: Witness this army of such mass and charge What happens next? T h e army is replaced by a single figure, and the very sounds become quick and delicate: Led by a delicate and tender prince

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

135

In line 33 we receive a hint of the parents' emotional state; and again in lines 41-42. Their explicit emotions then vanish from the poem. W h y ? With line 57 Lucy's return to visibility commences; by line 6 1 she is fully present; and it takes us a moment to realize that the last line of the poem may apply equally to a solitary child and to a ghost. These changes of vividness, shifts of focus, are events in the plot of the poem. T h e events in the story belong to a different realm entirely. Actual happenings all possess the same degree of immediacy: a nuclear explosion, the descent of a fly swatter, or the descent of snow. Our lives are full of actual happenings; there is no need for poems to add more. Wordsworth's attention is on managing a long diminuendo, from the two stanzas of dialogue-each speaker fully present to the other-to the finale in which they have vanished from sight and she is a free, solitary being: but a ghost. -

Plot-the succession of events in the poem.

T h e reader of the poem is interested in what happens o n the page, not in some universe of familiar activity to which the words on the page may refer. A lyric poem has a plot, although it doesn't "tell a story" or outline a sequence of "real-life" events. So does a passage of Shakespearean soliloquy : Witness this army of such mass and charge Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd Makes mouths at the invisible event Exposing what is mortal and unsure T o all that fortune, death and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. Shakespeare, Hamlet, IV, iv

5

W e start with an expansive gesture, its substance enforced by the prolonged sound and large abstractness of the words rn~.csand charge: Witness this army of such mass and charge What happens next? T h e army is replaced by a single figure, and the very sounds become quick and delicate: Led by a delicate and tender prince

136

Useful Terms

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

You cannot make that line sound impressive no matter how you try. What happens next? T h e prince is enlarged like a bubble, a balloon, or a puff of smoke:

slenderly anchoring them down, drawing them intwo blue-grey birds chasing a third struggle in circles, angles, swift convergings to a point that bursts instantly! Vibrant bowing limbs pull downward, sucking in the sky that bulges from behind, plastering itself against them in rifts, rock blue and dirty orange! But(Hold hard, rigid jointed trees!) the blinding and red-edged sun-blurcreeping energy, concentrated counterforce-welds sky, buds, trees, rivets them in one puckering hold! Sticks through! Pulls the whole counter-pulling mass upward, to the right locks even the opaque, not yet defined ground in a terrific drag that is loosening the very tap-roots! O n a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds two blue-grey birds, chasing a third, at full cry! Now they are flung outward and up-disappearing suddenly!

Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd Note the force of divine in keeping this image clear of the ludicrous. What happens next? A sudden superimposition of the cannon's mouth, the commander's shout, and a rude gesture: Makes mouths at the invisible event T o make a mouth was an Elizabethan idiom of which the only modern equivalent is to thumb the nose. But surprisingly, the line maintains its dignity. What happens next? Exposing what is mortal and unsure What happens next? Mortality and uncertainty are surrounded by thunderous enemies : T o all that fortune, death and danger dare What happens next? T h e passage suddenly closes on an image which combines potentiality, fragility, and apparent insignificance:

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5

Even for an egg-shell. What is meant by the ''plot" of this passage is its progression, by a series of surprising shifts of direction and focus, from "Witness this army" to "egg-shell." (This is a good place to notice that the verse is made out of lines for reasons that are not merely conventional. An actor who tries to conceal this fact will make the whole thing unintelligible.)

SPRING STRAINS

William Carlos Williams, 1917 I n a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds crowded erect with desire against the sky tense blue-grey twigs

Questions I . When you shift your attention from line I to line 2, what happens for which line 1 didn't prepare you? 2. Alark the points in the poem at which the major incidents in its plot occur. 3. Line 26 contains the same words as line I . Has it the same effect?

Notice that a "descriptivev poem has as much plot as any other kind. That is because it moves forward, in this case for twenty-nine lines. You can start reading a map at any point. Your eyes can examine the details of a tree in any order. But a poem moves in one direction and has only one starting place. This one is unusually full of dramatic incident, though in the actual scene nothing much is happening. One of the besetting questions for a poet is, "What ought to happen next?"

138

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

Useful Terms

That killing power is none of thine, I gave it to thy voice, and eyes : Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine; Thou art my star, shin'st in my skies; Then dart not from thy borrowed sphere Lightning on him that fixt thee there.

PARING THE APPLE Charles Tomlinson, 1956

There are portraits and still-lifes. And there is paring the apple. And then? Paring it slowly, From under cool-yellow Cold-white emerging. And

Tempt me with such affrights no more, Lest what I made, I uncreate: Let fools thy mystique forms adore, I'll know thee in thy mortal state; Wise Poets that wrapp'd Truth in tales, Knew her themselves through all her veils.

. . .?

T h e spring of concentric peel Unwinding off white, T h e blade hidden, dividing. There are portraits and still-lives And the first, because "human" Does not excel the second, and Neither is less weighted With a human gesture, than paring the apple With a human stillness.

Questions I . What does a poet generally mean when he says to a lady, "Thou art my star"? Does Carew mean that in line IO?What does "my skies" mean7 2. DOthe last three lines come as a complete surprise?

I0

From HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS Ezra Pound, I9 I 7

T h e cool blade Severs between coolness, apple-rind Compelling a recognition. If we had only lines 9-14, would they convey as much as they do in con text? A gunshot is a gunshot. A gunshot on page 140 of a detective story is something else. INGRATEFUL BEAUTY 'THREATENED Thomas Carelu (15~51-I6391) pub. 1640

Know, Celia, (since thou art so proud,) 'Twas I that gave thee thy renown: Thou hadst, in the forgotten crowd Of common beauties, liv'd unknown, Had not my verse exhal'd thy name, And with it impt the wings of fame.

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5

When, when, and whenever death closes our eyelids, Moving naked over Acheron Upon the one raft, victor and conquered together, Marius and Jugurtha together, one tangle of shadows. Caesar plots against India, Tigris and Euphrates shall, from now on, flow at his bidding, Tibet shall be full of Roman policemen, T h e Parthians shall get used to our statuary and acquire a Roman religion; One raft on the veiled flood of Acheron, Marius and Jugurtha together. Nor at my funeral either will there be any long trail, bearing ancestral lares and images; N o trumpets filled with my emptiness, Nor shall it be on an Atalic bed; T h e perfumed cloths will be absent.

10

15

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Plot: What Happens in the Poem

Useful Terms A small plebeian procession. Enough, enough and in plenty . books at my obsequies There uiill be three Which I take, my not unworthy gift, to Perse~hone. -

You will follow the bare scarified breast Nor will you be weary of calling my name, nor too weary T o place the last kiss on my lips W h e n the Syrian onyx is broken. "He who is now vacant dust "Was once the slave of one passion:" Give that much inscription "Death why tardily come?"

ENGLAND 20

25

35

T h e speaker, Sextus Propertius, was a somewhat disreputable Roman poet who wrote between 30 and 1 5 B.C. Acheron (line 2) is the river which must be crossed to enter the underworld, hlarius and Jugurtha (line 4) were "victor and conquered" respectively in a war that then seemed of great magnitude. Caesar (line 6) is the Emperor Augustus; Rome is expanding into an empire. Perskphone (line 21) was the beautiful queen of the underworld. T h e comely Adonis (line 33) was gored by a wild boar, and his lover Venus wept for him. "The CythareanU is one of her traditional titles. Questions What happens as we pass from line I to line 2? What have lines 6-10 to do with lincs 11-12? 3. What happens to the tone bctween lines 1 2 and 13? Would the word "funeral" have been out of place earlier in the poem? Why? 4. Is the tone of the last line in the poem a surprise? a complete surprise? I.

2.

Marianne Moore,

1920

with its baby rivers and little towns, each with its abbey or its cathedral, with voices-one voice perhaps, echoing through the transept-the criterion of suitability and convenience; and Italy with its equal shores-contriving an epicureanism from which the grossness has been extracted: and Greece with its goat and its gourds, the nest of modified illusions: and France, the 'chrysalis of the nocturnal butterfly', in whose products mystery of construction diverts one from what was originally one's object-substance at the core: and the East with its snails, its emotional

You, sometimes, will lament a lost friend, For it is a custom: This care for past men, Since Adonis was gored in Idalia, and the Cytharean Ran crying with out-spread hair, In vain, you call back the shade, In vain, Cynthia. Vain call to unanswering shadow, Small talk comes from small bones.

141

shorthand and jade cockroaches, its rock crystal and its imperturbabili ty, all of museum quality: and America where there is the little old ramshackle victoria in the south, where cigars are smoked on the street in the north; where there are no proof-readers, no silkworms, no digressions;

5

I0

the wild man's land; grassless, linksless, languageless country in which letters are written not in Spanish, not in Greek, not in Latin, not in shorthand, but in plain American which cats and dogs can read! T h e letter a in psalm and calm when pronounced with the sound of n in candle, is very noticeable, but why should contincnts of misapprehension have to be accounted for by the fact? Does it follow that because there are poisonous toadstools which rescmblc mushrooms, both are dangerous? In the ease of mettlesomeness which may be mistaken for appetite, of heat which may appear to be haste, no conclusions may be drawn. T o have misapprehended the matter is to have confessed

20

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Useful Terms

Plot: What Happens in the Poem

that one has not looked far enough. T h e sublimated wisdom of China, Egyptian discernment, the cataclysmic torrent of emotion compressed in the verbs of the Hebrew language, the books of the man who is able to say, 'I envy nobody but him, and him only, who catches more fish than I doJ,-the flower and fruit of all that noted superiority-should one not have stumbled upon it in America, must one imagine that it is not there? It has never been confined to one locality.

A POSTCARD FROM THE VOLCANO Wallace Stevens, 1936

25

And that in autumn, when the grapes Made sharp air sharper by their smell These had a being, breathing frost;

W e are kept on the move; each phrase disrupts an illusion of knowing all we need to, which is apt to be fostered by the neatness of the previous phrase.

(I

593-1633) pub. 1633

Sweet were the days when thou didst lodge with Lot, Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon, Advise with Abraham; when thy power could not Encounter Moses' strong complaints and mone. T h y words were then, Let me alone. One might have sought and found thee presently At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well. Is my God this way? No, they would reply, H e is to Sinai gone - as we heard tell: List, ye may heare great Aaron's bell. But now thou dost thyself immure and close In some one corner of a feeble heart, Where yet both Sinne and Satan, thy old foes, Do pinch and straiten thee and use much art T o gain thy thirds and little part.

I see the world grows old, whenas the heat Of thy great love once spread, as in an urn Doth closet up itself and still retreat, Cold sinne still forcing it, till it return And calling Justice, all things burn.

And least will guess that with our bones W e left much more, left what still is T h e look of things, left what we felt At what we saw. T h e spring clouds blow Above the shuttered mansion-house, Beyond our gate and the windy sky

DECAY

George Herbert

Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill;

Cries out a literate despair. W e knew for long the mansion's look And what we said of it became

5

10

.

A part of what it is . . Children, Still weaving budded aureoles, Will speak our speech and never know, Will say of the mansion that it seems As if he that lived there left behind A spirit storming in blank walls, A dirty house in a gutted world, A tatter of shadows peaked to white, Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.

5

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Plot and "Form"

I

1

145

T h e action leads forward in three major steps of four lines each to a climax (the final couplet) which may be of many kinds.

SONNET 60

William Shakespeare, c. I 595

r v l m

Plot and "Form"

T h e incidents and climaxes in a poem like Spring Strains are unpredictable; they occur when and where the poet's sense of the appropriate tells him they ought to. Some poetic forms, on the other hand, imply a plot of a certain shape and pace. Here is the layout of a Shakespearean sonnet:

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end, Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity once in the main of light Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses gainst his glory fight, And time that gave, doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

5

Four symmetrical sentences, the last a sudden stubborn obstacle to the momentum of the first three. Note that the poem would be less effective if it had two more lines at the end. (Why?) Would it be just as effective if it started at line g? Explain.

SONNET 73

William Shakespeare, c. 1595 That time of year thou may'st in me behold, W h e n yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self that seals u p all in rest. In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

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Plot and "Form"

Useful Terms

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commonly called "Petrarchan," after the Italian poet Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374), whose sonnets "to Laura" were tirelessly translated and imitated in England during the Elizabethan sonnet craze. Most of the Renaissance sonnets found in anthologies were planned to have their effect not as isolated poems but as details in a cycle of a hundred or so, combining a strict form and a sharp limitation of theme with unwearying fecundity.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, T o love that well, which thou must leave ere long. Questions I . What does he compare his life to in each of the quatrains? W h y are they put in the order they are? 2. In the last line, what does that refer to? 3. W h e n you first read the poem, did you suppose it was about a tender relationship between the speaker and the hearer? After reflecting on the last line, do you still suppose it may be?

ASTROPHEL AND STELLA, XXXl

Sir Philip Sidney, c. I 580 A RENOUNCING OF LOVE

With how sad steps, 0 Moon, thou climb'st the skies, How silently, and with how wan a face, What, may it be that even in heav'nly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of Love, thou feel'st a Lover's case; I read it in thy looks, thy languish'd grace T o me that feel the like, thy state descries.

Sir T h o m a s W y a t t ( I503-1542), pub. 1557 Farewell Love, and all thy Laws for ever, T h y baited hooks shall tangle me no more; Senec and Plato call me from thy lore, T o perfect wealth my wit for to endeavour. In blinde error when I did persever, T h y sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore, Hath taught me to set in trifles no store, And scape forth, since liberty is lever. Therefore farewell, go trouble younger hearts, And in me claim no more authority; With idle youth go use thy property, And thereon spend thy many brittle darts. For hitherto, though I have lost all my time, M e lusteth no longer rotten boughs to climb. 3. Senec: Seneca.

8, lever: liefer.

T h e n ev'n of fellowship, 0Moon, tell me Is constant Love deem'd there but want of wit? Are Beauties there as ~ r o u das here they be? Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet Those Lovers scorn whom that Love doth possess? Do they call Virtue there ungratefulness?

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14.me lusteth: it appeals to me.

In the first line Love has Laws; hence it is a subject for careful study. I n the second line it has baited hooks. How far can you follow these two themes through the poem? What surprise is introduced at the end? Shakespeare perhaps sixty years later prefers suaver rhythms and a rhyme scheme of simple alternations-presumably intended to give his sonnets a somewhat deceptive look of offhand ease-but the structure of his sonnet plots is quite similar to Wyatt's. T h e "Shakespearean" sonnet is a poem of delayed climax, changing direction only with the final couplet. T h e form apparently appealed to some part of Shakespeare's theatrical instinct. T h e more common kind of sonnet changes course just after the middle, the last six lines serving as a contrast to, or comment on, or departure from, the first eight. It is

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If the answer to these questions is yes, then presumably the trials of an earthly lover are inherent in the nature of Love itself and not byproducts of human perversity. What is the tone of the first eight lines? of the last six? Does either section contain any humor?

ASTROPHEL AND STELLA, VII

Sir Philip Sidney, c. I 580 W h e n Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes, In colour black why wrapt she beams so bright? Would she in beamy black like painter wise Frame daintiest lustre mix'd of shades and light?

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Plot and "Form"

O r did she else that sober hue devise, In object best to knit and strength our sight, Lest, if no veil these brave gleams did disguise, They sunlike should more dazzle than delight? Or would she her miraculous power show, That, whereas black seems beauty's contrary, She even in black doth make all beauty flow? Both so, and thus,-she, mindicg Love should be Plac'd ever there, gave him this mourning weed T o honour all their deaths who for her bleed. 6 . object: purpose.

13.

ones. T h e difficulty is finding enough to say. Fourteen lines is a surprising amount of space to fill u p (try it). A sonnet is essentially a twepart poem, often hovering on the borders of epigram, and by the eighteenth century an impulse such as lcd to the above poem proved to express itself more readily in couplets. T h e finish to which Pope brought the couplet made further Italianate sonnets unnecessary. 10 1

MERU

William Bzrtler Yeats, 1935 Civilisation is hooped together, brought Under a rule, under the semblance of peace By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought, And he, despite his terror, cannot cease Ravening through century after century, Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come Into the desolation of reality: Egypt and Greece, good-bye, and good-bye, Rome! Hermits upon Mount Meru or Everest, Caverned in night under the drifted snow, Or where that snow and winter's dreadful blast Beat down upon their naked bodies, know That day brings round the night, that before dawn His glory and his monuments are gone.

weed: garment.

Questions I. 2.

Does this poem add to the sum total of human knowledge? Does Sidney expect us to think that it does?

ASTROPHEL AND STELLA, XV Sir Philip Sidney, c. 1580 You that do search for every purling spring Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows, And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring; Ye that do dictionary's method bring Into your rimes, running in rattling rows; You that poor Petrarch's long-deceased woes With new-born sighs and denizen'd wit do sing; You take wrong ways; those far-fet helps be such As do bewray a want of inward touch, And sure, at length stol'n goods do come to light; But if, both for your love and skill, your name You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of Fame, Stella behold, and then begin to indite.

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Questions I . What is the image in line I ? Need a barrel contain anvthing to stay together? hlay the staves have a variety of shapes, or is strict uniformity of structure necessary? What makes the hoops stay on? What, in detail, is Yeats implying about "civilisation"? 2 . In line 3 he is contrasting "civilisation" and its "manifold illusion" with thought which is "man's life." What happens to this idea in line 47 What is the image in line 6? A wild boar, or something less specific? What made the desolation? Were Egypt, Greece, and Rome destroyed by natural forces? 3. What relationship can you find between line 10 and line I? 4. If poems were classified by their rhyme schemes, how would this one be classified?

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A conventional diatribe against convention. Was this poem, for instance, inspired by Stella, or is it the kind of construction he pretends to be reproving? What tone does he adopt toward the contents of other people's poems? T h e last line implies that once they look at Stella they will start writing effortlessly. What do you think is its tone? There are literally thousands of English sonnets, and very few good

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Plot and Syntax

151

Officially, this is a sentence; actually, it is a pretext for bringing together ten or so chocolate-cream words. Rapture Spring

Spring Morning Love Wood Heart Dear Lad Life Good

There is nothing in the stanza that isn't in this summary. There was rapture of spring in the morning

rwvvl

Plot and Syntax

appears to be a statement like There was odor of jasmine in the room. But the form, "There was X in the Y," hasn't its usual meaning, nor any meaning. It is being employed as camouflage.

-

T h e plot of a poem-its progression from the point where it begins to the point where it closes-is frequently expedited by the mechanisms of syntax. Functional syntax, as distinguished from merely correct syntax, is not a set of approved procedures for sticking words together, but the science of arranging them so that motion will pass through them. Civilisation is hooped together, brought Under a rule, under the semblance of peace By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought, And he, despite his terror, cannot cease Ravening through century after century, Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come , Into the desolation of reality:

...

-one sentence, moving unimpeded from "civilisation" to "desolation of reality," and incorporating everything that lies between in its necessary order. O n the other hand, the forms of syntax are sometimes a smoke screen concealing the absence of thought. There was rapture of spring in the morning When we told our love in the wood, For you were the spring in my heart, dear lad, And I vowed that my life was good.

Or the action may occur without syntactic assistance. This often troubles readers who regard the presence of syntactic forms as a guarantee of order, even when, as in the example above, the syntax is meand ingless.

HOW THE MONEY'S MADE

William Carlos Williams,1951 While in the tall buildings (sliding u p and down) is where the money's made u p and down directed missiles in the greased shafts of the tall buildings They stand torpid in cages, in violent motion unmoved but alert! predatory minds, unaffected UNINCONVENIENCED unsexed, up and down (without wing motion) This is how the money's made . using such ~ l u g s .

Plot and Syntax

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151

Officially, this is a sentence; actually, it is a pretext for bringing together ten or so chocolate-cream words. Rapture Spring

Spring Morning Love Wood Heart Dear Lad Life Good

There is nothing in the stanza that isn't in this summary. There was rapture of spring in the morning

Plot and Syntax

appears to be a statement like There was odor of jasmine in the room. But the form, "There was X in the Y," hasn't its usual meaning, nor any meaning. It is being employed as camouflage.

-

T h e plot of a poem-its progression from the point where it begins to the point where it closes-is frequently expedited by the mechanisms of syntax. Functional syntax, as distinguished from merely correct syntax, is not a set of approved procedures for sticking words together, but the science of arranging them so that motion will pass through them. Civilisation is hooped together, brought Under a rule, under the semblance of peace By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought, And he, despite his terror, cannot cease Ravening through century after century, Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come , Into the desolation of reality:

...

-one sentence, moving unimpeded from "civilisation" to "desolation of reality," and incorporating everything that lies between in its necessary order. O n the other hand, the forms of syntax are sometimes a smoke screen concealing the absence of thought. There was rapture of spring in the morning When we told our love in the wood, For you were the spring in my heart, dear lad, And I vowed that my life was good.

Or the action may occur without syntactic assistance. This often troubles readers who regard the presence of syntactic forms as a guarantee of order, even when, as in the example above, the syntax is mean, ingless.

HOW THE MONEY'S MADE

William Carlos Williams,1951 While in the tall buildings (sliding u p and down) is where the money's made up and down directed missiles in the greased shafts of the tall buildings They stand torpid in cages, in violent motion unmoved but alert! predatory minds, unaffected UNINCONVENIENCED unsexed, u p and down (without wing motion) This is how the money's made . using such ~ l u g s .

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Useful Terms

20

Move toward the back, please, and face the door! is how the money's made, money's made pressed together talking excitedly . of the next sandwich reading, from one hand, of some student, come waterlogged to the surface following last night's thunderstorm . the flesh a flesh of tears and fighting gulls . From Paterson, Book IV

T h e tear for fading beauty check, For passing glory cease to sigh; One form shall rise above the wreck, O n e name, Ianthe, shall not die.

i I I

"PAST RUIN'D ILION"

W a l t e r Savage Landor, I 846 (Three-stanza ~ e r s i o n I, 831)

1

Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, Alcestis rises from the shades; Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse that gives Immortal youth to mortal maids.

Questions I . What is the image in line 55 Evening haze? Be sure you know the exact meaning of "Oblivion." What is lost if "These many summers"

D o you think he was right to delete this? W h y or why not? Ezra Pcund has called Landor's short poems "manifestly inscribed," implying that they exhibit the economy of words required by a stonecutter, and a weightiness of theme appropriate to inscribed stone. T h e genre in which Landor worked was derived from Greek and Latin models, and frequently imitated in eighteenth-century epitaphs.

If Virtue's Charms had Pow'r to save Her faithful Vot'ries from the Grave; With Beauty's ev'ry Form supplyld, T h e lovely Ainslee ne'er had died.

Soon shall Oblivion's deepening veil Hide all the peopled hills you see, T h e gay, the proud, while lovers hail These many summers you and me. Helen lives in Homer's verse; the return of Alcestis from the dead is preserved in Euripides's play.

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(line 8) is changed to "in future ages"? How many transient things are named or implied in the poem? 2. If you change the "Immortal" in line 4 to "Eternal," do you lose anything besides a mechanical neatness? What is the effect of this substitution on the cadence of the line? List as many devices as you can by which Landor contrives to give these short rhymed stanzas gravity and distinction. 3. One sentence for each stanza. T h e first is a paralleling of four clauses containing four main verbs; the second a graceful uncoiling of a single syntactic gesture, reserving its emphasis for a lightly attached subordinate clause. Explore the reasons for this arrangement. 4. This is Landor's final version of the poem. Earlier he published a version with an additional stanza:

At the sanitary lunch hour packed woman to woman (or man to woman, what's the difference?) the flesh of their faces gone to fat or gristle, without recognizable outline, fixed in rigors, adipose or sclerosis expressionless, facing one another, a mould for all faces (canned fish) this

Plot and Syntax

-Memorial plaque i n the Anglican Cathedral, Quebec City, Canada, I 767

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I

O N THE DEATH OF IANTHE

W a l t e r Savage Landor, I 831 Well I remember how you smiled T o see me write your name upon T h e soft sea-sand. "O! what a child!

Y o u think you're writing upon stone!"

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I have since written what no tide Shall ever wash away, what men Unborn shall read o'er ocean wide And find Ianthe's name agen.

DlRCE W a l t e r Savage Landor, I 83 1

Stand close around, ye Stygian set, With Dirce in one bark conveyed! Or Charon, seeing, may forget That he is old and she a shade.

THE STATUE Hilaire Belloc (I 870-~95z) pub. 1938

When we are dead, some Hunting-boy will pass And find a stone half-hidden in tall grass And grey with age: but having seen that stone (Which was your image), ride more slowly on. T h e sentence so arranged as to reserve the climax for the final phrase, and the rhyme and syntax together relied on to give the climax, when it comes, an air of inevitability. Note the very different effect produced, with equal neatness, by the casualness of Wordsworth's syntax:

. . . A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! -Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. I n the final stanza of She Dwelt Avizong the Untrodden W a y s (see page 38) he fits sentence exactly into stanza in Landor's manner. Why? \

Invocation to PARADISE LOST John Milton, 1667

Of Man's first Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste

Brought Death into the World, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, Sing, Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed, In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth Rose out of Chaos: or if Sion Hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's Brook that flow'd Fast by the Oracle of God, I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous Song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th' Aonian Mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhyme. And chiefly Thou, 0 Spirit, that dost prefer Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou knowest; Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss And mad'st it pregnant; what in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the height of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to Man.

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T h e Shepherd (line 8) is Moses, who received the Law on Mount Oreb or its better-known spur, Mount Sinai. Lines 8-10 refer to the tradition that Moses, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, wrote the book of Genesis. David the Psalmist looked up to hlount Sion (line 10). T h e Aonian Mount (line 16) is Parnassus, abode of the Greek-i.e., pagan-Muses. Where does the first sentence end? What is its main verb? Is the part of the sentence that comes before the main verb logically distinguished from the part that comes after? Is the relationship of the various subordinate clauses to the main thread of the sentence clear in Milton's mind? T h e caesura (abrupt pause within the line) is normally very prominent in Milton's verse:

Of Man's first Disobedience, I and the Fruit Of that forbidden Tree, 1 whose mortal taste .

..

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Why is it virtually absent in line 16 and lines 24-26? Milton's "control over so many words a t once" has been praised by T. S. Eliot. It is largely syntactic control. Note that you are kept clearly aware of the structure of the sentence even though its parts do not often come in the normal subject-verb-object order. What does Milton achieve in this passage that he would not achieve by the use of short, simple sentences?

Questions

"COME DOWN, 0 MAID" Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 847 Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height: What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease T o glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, T o sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him; by the happy threshold, he, Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the oats, Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the silver horns, Nor wilt thou snare him in the wild ravine, Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls T o roll the torrent out of dusky doors: But follow; let the torrent dance thee down T o find him in the valley; let the wild Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and lcave T h e monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air: So waste not thou; but come; for all the vales Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is everv sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, T h e moan of doves in imrncmorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.

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I . One long sentence, at least from the end of line 3. Has this poem a syntactic skeleton, that is, an orderly movement pivoting on an identifiable main verb, with subordinate clauses clearly distinguished? 2. Do the details come in any particular order? Or is the mind's eye roving through the landscape of the poem like an eye exploring a picture? 3. Do some of the effects in this accumulation seem to come off better than others? Are they mostly visual, or do they work by exploiting the suggestive power of words? 4. What are the "azure pillars of the hearth" (line 25)? Can you find other phrases that need interpretation? 5. The last three lines balance the first three. How do they differ from any other three lines in the poem? Would the poem seem unfinished if they were omitted? Do they seem a natural point for the action of the poem to come to rest, or are they just an expedient for closing off something that might have gone on much longer? 6. How does Tennvson's use of the long sentence here differ from Milton's in the Invocation to Paradise Lost?

TO A LADY WHO DID SING EXCELLENTLY Lord Herbert of Cherbz~ry( I583-1 645), pub. 1665 When our rude and unfashion'd words, that long A being in their elements enjoy'd, Senseless and void, Come at last to be formed by thy tongue, And from thv breath receive that life and place, And perfect grace, That now thy power diffus'd through all their parts Are able to remove All the obstructions of the hardest hearts, And teach the most unwilling how to love;

Plot and Syntax

W h y is it virtually absent in line 16 and lines 24-26? Milton's "control over so many words at once" has been praised by T. S. Eliot. It is largely syntactic control. Note that you are kept clearly aware of the structure of the sentence even though its parts do not often come in the normal subject-verb-object order. What does Milton achieve in this passage that he would not achieve by the use of short, simple sentences?

"COME DOWN, 0 MAID" Alfred, Lord T e n n ~ s o n ,I 847

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5

When they again, exalted by thy voice, Tun'd bjl thy soul, dismiss'd into the air, T o us repair, A living, moving, and harmonious noise, Able to give the love they do create A second state, And charm not only all his griefs away, And his defects restore,

Useful Terms

Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height: What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease T o glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, T o sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him; by the happy threshold, he, Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the vats, Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the silver horns, Nor wilt thou snare him in the wild ravine, Nor find him d r o p upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls T o roll the torrent out of dusky doors: But follow; let the torrent dance thee down T o find him in the valley; let the wild Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave T h e monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air: So waste not thou; but come; for all the vales Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is everv sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; hll\.riads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, T h e moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.

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157

Questions I . One long sentence, at least from the end of line 3. Has this poem a syntactic skelcton, that is, an orderly movement pivoting on an iden-

tifiable main verb, with subordinate clauses clearly distinguished? 2. Do the details come in any particular order? Or is the mind's eye roving through the landscape of the poem like an eye exploring a picture? 3. Do some of the effects in this accumulation seem to come off better than others? Are they mostly visual, or do they work by exploiting the suggestive power of words? 4. What are the "azure pillars of the hearth" (line 25)? Can you find other phrases that nced interpretation? 5. T h e last three lines balance the first three. I-Iow do they differ from any other three lines in the poem? Would the poem seem unfinished if they were omitted? Do they seem a natural point for the action of the poem to come to rest, or are they just an expedient for closing off something that might have gone on much longer? 6. How does TennYson1suse of the long sentence here differ from hililton's in the Invocation to Paradise Lost?

TO A LADY WHO DID SING EXCELLENTLY Lord Herbert of Cherbz~ry(1583-16~5)~ pub. 1 6 6 ~ When our rude and unfashion'd words, that long A being in their elements enjoy'd, Senseless and void, Come at last to be formed bv thy tongue, And from thy breath receive that life and place, And perfect grace, That now thy pourer diffus'd through all their parts Are able to remove All the obstructions of the hardest hearts, And teach the most unwilling how to love; When they again, exalted by thy voice, Tun'd by thy soul, dismiss'd into the air, T o us repair, A living, moving, and harmonious noise, Able to give the love they do create A second state, And charm not only all his griefs away, And his defects restore,

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158

Useful Terms

Plot and Syntan

But make him perfect, who, the Poets say, Made all was ever yet made heretofore; When again all these rare perfections meet, Composed in the circle of thy face, As in their place, So to make up of all one perfect sweet, Who is not then so ravish'd with delight Ev'n of thy sight, That he can be assur'd his sense is true, Or that he die, or live, Or that he do enjoy himself, or you, Or only the delights, which you did give?

If thou art Time, these Flow'rs have Lives, And then I fear Under some Lily she I love May now be growing there. TIME. And in some Thistle or some spire of grass, h l y scythe thy stalk before hers come may pass. PILGRIM. Wilt thou provide it may? TIME. NO. PILGRIM. Allege the cause. TIME. Because Time cannot alter but obey Fate's laws. CHORUS. Then happy those whom Fate, that is the stronger, Together twists their threads, and yet draws hers the longer.

PILGRIM.

25

Never more will the wind cherish you again, never more will the rain. Never more shall we find you bright in the snow and wind.

This elaborate unfolding precision claims to be paralleling the effect of a piece of vocal music. What can you infer about the nature of the music? Might she be singing Handel? Purcell? Rogers and Hammerstein?

T h e snow is melted, the snow is gone, and you are flown: Like a bird out of our hand, like a light out of our heart, you are gone.

A DIALOGUE BETWIXT TlME AND A PILGRIM

Aurelian T o w n s h e n d (c. I 583-1 643)

PILGRIM.

PILGRIM.

TIME.

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Aged man, that mows these fields. Pilgrim speak, what is thy will? Whose soil is this that such sweet Pasture yields? Or who art thou whose Foot stands never still? Or where am I? TIME. In love. His ~ o r d s h i ~ habove. es Yes and below, and round about Where in all sorts of flow'rs are growing Which as the early Spring puts out, Time falls as fast a mowing.

THE DANCE

W i l l i a m Carlos Williams, I 944 5

In Breughel's great picture, T h e Kermess, the dancers go round, they go round and around, the squeal and the blare and the tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles tipping their bellies (round as the thicksided glasses whose wash they impound)

10

Useful Terms

Plot and Syntan

But make him perfect, who, the Poets say, Made all was ever yet made heretofore; When again all these rare perfections meet, Composed in the circle of thy face, As in their place, t So to make up of all one ~ e r f e c sweet, W h o is not then so ravish'd with delight Ev'n of thy sight, That he can be assur'd his sense is true, Or that he die, or live, Or that he do enjoy himself, or you, Or only the delights, which you did give?

PILGRIM.

TIME.

PILGRIM.

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CHORUS.

This elaborate unfolding precision claims to be paralleling the effect of a piece of vocal music. What can you infer about the nature of the music? Might she be singing Handel? Purcell? Rogers and Hammerstein?

Aurelian T o w n s h e n d (c. I ~ 8 3 - 1 6 4 3 )

PILGRIM.

PILGRIM.

TIME.

NEVER MORE WlLL 'THE WlND H . D. (1886)

Never more will the wind cherish you again, never more will the rain. Never more shall we find you bright in the snow and wind. T h e snow is melted, the snow is gone, and you are flown: Like a bird out of our hand, like a light out of our heart, you are gone.

A DIALOGUE BETWIXT TlME AND A PILGRIM

Aged man, that mows these fields. Pilgrim speak, what is thy will? Whose soil is this that such sweet Pasture yields? Or who art thou whose Foot stands never still? Or where am I? TIME. In love. His Lordshiphes above. Yes and below, and round about Where in all sorts of flow'rs are growing Which as the early Spring puts out, Time falls as fast a mowing.

If thou art Time, these Flow'rs have Lives, And then I fear Under some Lily she I love May now be growing there. And in some Thistlc or some spire of grass, hly scythe thy stalk before hers come may pass. Wilt thou provide it may? TIME. NO. Allege the cause. Because Time cannot alter but obey Fate's laws. Then happy those whom Fate, that is the stronger, Together twists their threads, and yet draws hers the longer.

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T h e syntactic formality keeps every element under perfect control; nothing proves "inexpressible," and each motif assumes its due subordination in a precisely stated chain of cause and effect. What unexpected quality appears in the last four lines?

PILGRIM.

PILGRIM.

TIME.

How many sentences does Lord Herbert employ? By what simple grammatical device are you kept constantly aware that a climax is imminent? What is the effect of postponing it so long?

TIME.

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NEVER MORE WlLL THE WlND H . D. (1886)

T h e syntactic formality keeps every element under perfect control; nothing proves "inexpressible," and each motif assumes its due subordination in a precisely stated chain of cause and effect. What unexpected quality appears in the last four lines?

TIME.

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How many sentences does Lord Herbert employ? By what simple grammatical device are you kept constantly aware that a climax is imminent? What is the effect of postponing it so long?

PILGRIM.

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THE DANCE

W i l l i a m Carlos Williams, 1944 5

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In Breughel's great picture, T h e Kermess, the dancers go round, they go round and around, the squeal and the blare and the tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and fiddles tipping their bellies (round as the thicksided glasses whose wash they impound)

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Plot and Syntax

Useful Terms their hips and their bellies off balance to turn them. Kicking and rolling about the Fair Grounds, swinging their butts, those shanks must be sound to bear u p under such rollicking measures, prance as they dance in Breughel's great picture, T h e Kermess.

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Rhythm as plot. W h y would the poem seem incomplete if it were cut off at any point before the last line? Would it be the sense that was interrupted? T h e next poem carries this principle into a much more elaborate form. Watch, as you read it, the function of the constantly returning repetitions. (

MERCILES BEAUTE A Triple Roundel Geoffrey Chaucer, C . 1385

I

And but your word wol helen hastily

hly hertes wounde, why1 that it is grene,

5

Your Yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaut6 of hem not sustene.

r . yen: eyes. 2 . hem: them. 4 . but: unless. helen: heal. 1 5 . ne . not: not. $eyrie: complain. 1 6 . D a u n ~ e rdisdain. :

..

Allas! that Nature hath in you compassed So greet beaut&, that no man may atteyne T o mercy, though h e sterve for the peyne. So hath your beaute fro your hcrte chacld Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

I11 Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat, And he is strike out of my bokes clene For evermo; ther is non other mene. Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene. 17. Izan: have. 2 3 . sterve: die. In view of line 28 below, it would be pleasant to find that the

10

I1 So hath your beaut6 fro y+r herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availcth not to pleync; For Daunger halt your mercy in his chcyne.

Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced; I sey you sooth, me nedeth not to feyne; So hath your beaut6 fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.

H e may answere, and seye this or that; I do no fors, I speke right as I mene. Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.

Your yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaut6 of hem not sustene, So woundeth it through-out my herte kene.

Upon my trouthe I sey you feithfully, T h a t ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene; For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene. Your j;en two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaut6 of hem not sustene, So woundeth it through-out my herte kene.

161

15

halt: holds.

word had already taken on its modern sense, to be dying of hunger; but there is no authority for supposing that it had. 27. sin: since. 29. Lene: bean. 3 1 . I do no fors: I don't care. 3 4 . sclat: slate.

T h e nonspecialist student can read Chaucer for the meaning without mastering the pronunciation of Middle English vowels. T h e meter, however, will elude him, as it did everyone from the sixtccnth century until Tyrwhitt's edition of 1775, unless he notes that words ending in " ,, e usually have one syllablc more than their modern counterparts. In the text as printed herc, thc dotted lctter "c" is mcant to be p r o n o ~ ~ n c c d separately, somewhat like the "a" in "idea." W h e n this syllable is stressed, it is printed "6." T h u s "counte" has one syllable, "herte" has two,

162

Plot and Syntax

Useful Terms

and "beautCNis pronounced with the stress on the last syllable, not, as in modern English, on the first. Questions

What is the "trouthe" referred to in line i o? 2. Love has a "sclat" in line 34 because he is a little boy, Cupid. Note that Chaucer has "bokes." What effect has this contrast on the tone of the final stanza? 3. Note the progression from the lady's darting eyes to Cupid's arrows. How does this progressive reduction of scale hold the poem together? How does Part I1 link Parts I and III? What feeling does Part I1 contain that is not in Part I? 4. What is the tone of line 30? 5. What feeling is behind lines 35-36? Revenge? T i t for tat? (Note that Chaucer's "bokes" include those he still means to write.) Or are these lines an acknowledgment of Love's power, so great that the only safe course is to leave him completely alone? I.

4.

163

Your yen two w01 slee me sodenly, I may the beaut6 of hcrn not sl~stcne, SOwoundeth it through-out my herte kene,

Is this a more complex slaying? Notice that Carew's whole poem is a rationalistic explanation of its own title; if she is angry he dies of despair, if she isn't he dies of joy. Could Chaucer's meaning be reduced in this way?

SONG: Murdring beautie

Thomas Carew, pub. 1 6 ~ 0 I'll gaze no more on her bewitching face, Since ruin harbours there in every place: For my enchanted soul alike she drowns With calms and tempests of her smiles and frowns. I'll love no more those cruel eyes of hers, Which ~leas'dor anger'd still are murderers: For if she dart (like lightning) through the air Her beams of wrath, she kills me with despair. If she behold me with a pleasing eye, I surfeit with excess of joy, and die.

5

Questions

What image is introduced in line 2? How far is it sustained? Does line 4 imply a c o m p a r a p l y limited gamut of emotion on her part? of response on his? 3. "Die" in seventeenth-century poems often refers to sexual intercourse. Is this meaning present in line I O ? Is it the central meaning? Is the line, taken literally, ridiculous? I.

2.

Plot and Syntax

and "beautCNis pronounced with the stress on the last syllable, not, as in modern English, on the first. Questions

What is the "trouthe" referred to in line i o? 2. Love has a "sclat" in line 34 because he is a little boy, Cupid. Note that Chaucer has "bokes." W h a t effect has this contrast on the tone of the final stanza? 3. Note the progression from the lady's darting eyes to Cupid's arrows. How does this progressive reduction of scale hold the poem together? How does Part I1 link Parts I and III? W h a t feeling does Part I1 contain that is not in Part I? 4. What is the tone of line 30? 5. What feeling is behind lines 35-36? Revenge? Tit for tat? (Note that Chaucer's "bokes" include those he still means to write.) Or are these lines an acknowledgment of Love's power, so great that the only safe course is to leave him completely alone? I.

SONG: Murdring beautie

Thomas Carew, pub. I 640 I'll gaze no more on her bewitching face, Since ruin harbours there in every place: For my enchanted soul alike she drowns With calms and tempests of her smiles and frowns. I'll love no more those cruel eyes of hers, Which pleas'd or anger'd still are murderers: For if she dart (like lightning) through the air Her beams of wrath, she kills me with despair. If she behold me with a pleasing eye, I surfeit with excess of joy, and die.

5

10

Questions

What image is introduced in line z? How far is it sustained? Does line 4 imply a c o r n p a r a p l y limited gamut of emotion on her part? of response on his? 3. "Die" in seventeenth-century poems often refers to sexual intercourse. Is this meaning present in line I O ? Is it the central meaning? Is the line, taken literally, ridiculous? I.

2.

4.

163

Your yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaute of hcrn not sl~stcne, SOwoundeth it through-out my herte kene.

Is this a more complex slaying? Notice that Carew's whole poem is a rationalistic explanation of its own title; if she is angry he dies of despair, if she isn't he dies of joy. Could Chaucer's meaning be reduced in this way?

PART

nnn.rtn

2

Discr illzinations

By now you will have acquired some grasp of the extraordinary expressive resources of language, and hence of the variety of means open to the poet. I n learning about poetic techniques, you will also have learned to find your way through kinds of writing that perhaps once seemed very difficult to you. It would be wrong to suppose, however, when one poem appears more interesting or more praiseworthy than another, that it manifests merely a greater degree of technical sophistication. A buzz saw isn't necessarily better than a jackknife. In this section we shall be concerned with poems that differ as Einstein, say, differs from Sibelius, manifesting a high degree of practical energy in totally different ways; with poems that bring to their themes a greater or lesser dcgree of sensibility and intelligence; and with poems that succeed in illuminating greater or lesser areas of human experience. TJltimately we shall find that no poem is ~ 1 1 0 1 1intelligible ~ in isolation from the rest of its author's work. from the civilization in which h e lived, or from other poetry written before and since. This pinciple, of course, isn't confined to poetry. It is more important, however, to look at what the poet is showing you than at his personal surroundings. Mysterious as "taste" may be. unsupported assertion is as out of place in this as in anv other study. T h e reader has somcthing perfectly specific in front of him. What his taste appraises, his mind has first ~erceived, and perceived in spccific terms, whether consciously or not. So it is always possible for him to take a second look and say what, beneath the motions of taste, has been pcrceivcd and compared. Taste is comparison performed with the certainty of habit. 165

PART

2

By now you will have acquired some grasp of the extraordinary expressive resources of language, and hence of the variety of means open to the poet. I n learning about poetic techniques, you will also have learned to find your way through kinds of writing that perhaps once seemed very difficult to you. It would be wrong to suppose, however, when one poem appears more interesting or more praiseworthy than another, that it manifests merely a greater degree of technical sophistication. A buzz saw isn't necessarily better than a jackknife. I n this section we shall be concerned with poems that differ as Einstein, say, differs from Sibelius, manifesting a high degree of practical energy in totall!r different nralrs;with poems that bring to their themes a greater or lesser degree of sensibility and intelligence; and with poems that succeed in illuminating greater or lesser areas of human experience. Ultimately we shall find that no poem is ~ 1 1 0 1 1intelligible ~ in isolation from the rest of its author's work, from the civilization in which h e lived, or from other poetry written before and since. This principle, of course, isn't confined to poetry. It is more important, however, to look at what the poet is showing you than at his pcrsonal surroundings. Mysterious as "taste" may be, unsupported assertion is as out of place in this as in anv other study. T h e reader has something perfectly specific in front of him. What his taste appraises, his mind has first perceived, and perceived in specific terms, whether consciously or not. So it is always possible for him to take a second look and say what, beneath the motions of taste, has been perceived and compared. Taste is comparison performed with the certainty of habit. 165

m Presenting

the Subject

T o repeat: the aim of writing is to present the subject; if the reader is moved, it will be the thing presented that moves him. Hence the directness with which the best poets set down their matter. This depends partly on their technical mastery: their knowledge of and control over the various means of defining the subject and locking it down to the page. But it depends equally on the fact that the good poet knows what his subject is. Knowing this, he knows, or can find out, what things-images, rhythms, words-must go into the poem, and is confident that nothing else that may come into his head belongs in the poem. Hence the condensation of the result, the absence of blank words, and the air of inevitability. FUNERAL SONG

William Shakespeare, c. 1609 GUIDERIUS.

Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages; Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

ARVIRAGUS.

Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke: Care no more to clothe and eat; T o thee the reed is as the oak:

m Presenting

the Subject

T o repeat: the aim of writing is to present the subject; if the reader is moved, it will be the thing presented that moves him. Hence the directness with which the best poets set down their matter. This depends partly on their technical mastery: their knowledge of and control over the various means of defining the subject and locking it down to the page. But it depends equally on the fact that the good poet knows what his subject is. Knowing this, he knows, or can find out, what things-images, rhythms, words-must go into the poem, and is confident that nothing else that may come into his head belongs in the poem. Hence the condensation of the result, the absence of blank words, and the air of inevitability. FUNERAL SONG

William Shakespeare, c. 1609 GUIDERIUS.

Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages; Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

ARVIRAGUS.

Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke: Care no more to clothe and eat; T o thee the reed is as the oak:

168

Discriminations

Presenting the Subject N o wailing ghost shall dare appear, T o vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love.

T h e sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. GUIDERIUS. ARVIRAGUS.

GUIDERIUS. ARVIRAGUS.

BOTH.

GUIDERIUS. ARVIRAGUS.

GUIDERIUS. ARVIAAGUS.

BOTH.

Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finished joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.

NOexorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Ghost unlaid forbear thee! ~ o t h i n ill g come near thee! Quiet consummation have; And renownkd be thy grave! From Cymbeline, IV, ii

20

One feels that each of the things in this poem (sun's heat, wages, chimney sweepers, reed and oak, scepter, joy and moan) condenses \.ast tracts of human experience. W e feel this not because Shakespeare tells us how we are to feel, because he has put into the poem the right things arranged in the right order. What sort of effect does "golden" convey in line 5? Does "golden lads" make literal sense, or is it a juxtaposition of images? Does "golden" convey a similar feeling in a phrase like (lgolden bowl"? T h e fact that it is put with "lads and girls" doesn't wholly explain the odd emotions called up by "golden." Everything around it helps: the word "wages"; the unpretentiousness of the dismissed wage-earner image in line 4; the contrast with "dust" and "chimney-sweepers"; the sunset implications of lines 3-4; the contrast between our usual feelings about the nobility and permanence of gold and the theme of the poem. Shakespeare isn't jogging our emotions into mobility by comment. H e is presenting his matter with the utmost directness.

T h e redbreast oft at ev'ning hours Shall kindly lend his little aid: With hoary moss, and gather'd flow'rs, T o deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds, and beating rain, In tempests shake the sylvan cell, O r midst the chase on ev'ry plain, T h e tender thought on thee shall dwell. Each lonely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed: Belov'd, till life could charm no more; And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead. Fidele is "fair," the tomb "grassy," the mourning maids "soft," the spring "breathing." An adjective for every noun is in part the eighteenthcentury convention in which Collins was trained, in part a conviction that you make poetry not by presenting the subject but by dressing it up. If you remove from the poem all the words but the ones that tell you something, you find that Collins has very little to tell. 'Wailing" (line 5 ) intensifies "ghost" slightly, but adds nothing new to it. T h e only emotions conventional epithets can generate are familiar ones. But the emotions of Shakespeare's "Fear no more the heat o' the sun" are individual and peculiar to that poem.

A DIRGE IN CYMBELINE Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed to be dead

WELSH INCIDENT

Robert Graves (1895T o fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each op1ningsweet, of earliest bloom, And rille all the breathing spring.

5

N o wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew: T h e female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew!

~

William Collins, I 749

169

)

'But that was nothing to what things came out From the sea-caves of Criccieth yonder.' W h a t were they? Mermaids? dragons? ghosts?'

170

'Nothing at all of any things like that.' W h a t were they, then?' 'All sorts of queer things, Things never seen or heard or written about, Very strange, un-Welsh, utterly peculiar Things. Oh, solid enough they seemed to touch, Had anyone dared it. Marvellous creation, All various shapes and sizes and no sizes, All new, each perfectly unlike his neighbur, Though all came moving slowly out together.' 'Describe just one of them.' 'I am unable.' W h a t were their colours?' 'Mostly nameless colours, Colours you'd like to see; but one was puce Or perhaps more like crimson, but not purplish. Some had no colour.' 'Tell me, had they legs?' 'Not a leg or foot among them that I saw.' 'But did these things come out in any order? What o'clock was it? Wkat was the day of the week? W h o else was present? What was the weather?' 'I was coming to that. It was half-past three O n Easter Tuesda); last. T h e sun was shining. T h e Harlech Silver Band played Marchog Jesu O n thirty-seven shimmering instruments, Collecting for Carnarvon's (Fever) Hospital Fund. T h e populations of Pwlheli, Criccieth, Portmadoc, Borth, Tremadoc, Penrhpdeudraeth, Were all assembled. Criccieth's mayor addressed them First in good Welsh and then in fluent English, Twisting his fingers in his chain of office, Welcoming the things. They came out on the sand, Not keeping time to the band, moving seaward Silently at a snail's pace. But at last T h e most odd, indescribable thing of all Which hardly one man there could see for wonder Did something recognizably a something.' Well, what?' 'It made a noise.' 'A frightening noise?' TVo, no.' 'A musical noise? A noise of scuffling?'

170

PresentingtheSubject

Discriminations

5

'No, but a very loud, respectable noiseLike groaning to oneself on Sunday morning In Chapel, close before the second psalm.' 'What did the mayor do?' 'I was coming to that.'

50

THROUGH BINOCULARS Charles Tornlinson, I955

In their congealed light W e discover that what we had taken for a face Has neither eyes nor mouth But only the impersonality of anatomy. Silencing movement, They withdraw life. Definition grows clear-cut, but bodiless, Withering by a dimension. T o see thus Is to ignore the revenge of light on shadow, T o confound both in a brittle and false union. This Fictive extension into madness Has a kind of bracing effect: That normality is, after all, desirable One can no longer doubt having experienced its opposite.

15

Binoculars are the last phase in a romanticism: T h e starkly mad vision, not mortal, But dangling one in a vicarious, momentary idiocy. T o dispense with them Is to make audible the steady roar of evening, Withdrawing in s l o ripples ~~ of orange, Like the retreat of water from sea-caves. LIFE

George Herbert, I633 I made a posy, while the day ran by: Here will I smcll my remnant out, and tie My life within this band;

PresentingtheSubject

Discriminations

'Nothing at all of any things like that.' W h a t were they, then?' 'All sorts of queer things, Things never seen or heard or written about, Very strange, un-Welsh, utterly peculiar Things. Oh, solid enough they seemed to touch, Had anyone dared it. Marvellous creation, All various shapes and sizes and no sizes, All new, each perfectly unlike his neighbur, Though all came moving slowly out together.' 'Describe just one of them.' 'I am unable.' W h a t were their colours?' 'Mostly nameless colours, Colours you'd like to see; but one was puce Or perhaps more like crimson, but not purplish. Some had no colour.' 'Tell me, had they legs?' 'Not a leg or foot among them that I saw.' 'But did these things come out in any order? What o'clock was it? What was the day of the week? W h o else was present? What was the weather?' 'I was coming to that. It was half-past three O n Easter Tuesday last. T h e sun was shining. T h e Harlech Silver Band played Marchog Jesu O n thirty-seven shimmering instruments, Collecting for Carnarvon's (Fever) Hospital Fund. T h e populations of Pwlheli, Criccieth, Portmadoc, Borth, Tremadoc, Penrhyndeudraeth, Were all assembled. Criccieth's mayor addressed them First in good Welsh and then in fluent English, Twisting his fingers in his chain of office, Welcoming the things. They came out on the sand, Not keeping time to the band, moving seaward Silently at a snail's pace. But at last T h e most odd, indescribable thing of all Which hardly one man there could see for wonder Did something recognizably a something.' W e l l , what?' 'It made a noise.' 'A frightening noise?' TVO, no.' 'A musical noise? A noise of scuffling?'

171

5

10

15

171

'No, but a very loud, respectable noiseLike groaning to oneself on Sunday morning In Chapel, close before the second psalm.' 'What did the mayor do?' 'I was coming to that.' THROUGH BINOCULARS Charles Tornlinson, I955

In their congealed light W e discover that what we had taken for a face Has neither eyes nor mouth But only the impersonality of anatomy. Silencing movement, They withdraw life.

20

Definition grows clear-cut, but bodiless, Withering by a dimension.

25

T o see thus Is to ignore the revenge of light on shadow, T o confound both in a brittle and false union.

30

This Fictive extension into madness Has a kind of bracing effect : That normality is, after all, desirable One can no longer doubt having experienced its opposite. Binoculars are the last phase in a romanticism: T h e starkly mad vision, not mortal, But dangling one in a vicarious, momentary idiocy.

35

40

T o dispense with them Is to make audible the steady roar of evening, Withdrawing in slow ripples of orange, Like the retreat of water from sea-caves. LIFE

George Herbert, 1 633

45

I made a posy, while the day ran by: Here will I smcll my remnant out, and tie My life within this band;

15

172

I

Discriminations

But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they By noon most cunningly did steal away, And withered in my hand. My hand was next to them, and then my heart: I took, without more thinking, in good part Time's gentle admonition; W h o did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, Making my mind to smell my fatal day, Yet sugaring the suspicion. Farewell, dear flowers; sweetly your time ye spent, Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, And after death for cures. I follow straight, without complaints or grief, Since, if my scent be good, I care not if It be as short as yours.

l 10

i I

15

Questions I . What is the "day" in stanza I ? What are the flowers? (Note that they were gathered well befaret noon.) 2. In developing these metaphors, does Herbert discard the qualities of real flowers? What does line I 5 mean?

With evening, love wakens though its shadows which are alive by reason of the sun shininggrow sleepy now and drop away from desire Love without shadows stirs now beginning to waken as night advances.

20

25

made up of despairs and without accomplishment realizes a new awakening which is a reversal of despair.

THE DESCENT

Na defeat is made up entirely of defeat-since

the world it opens is always a place formerly unsuspected. A world lost, a world unsuspected beckons to new places and no whiteness (lost) is so white as the memory of whiteness

173

T h e descent

William Carlos Williams, I 948 T h e descent beckons as the ascent beckoned Memory is a kind of accomplishment a sort of renewal even an initiation, since the spaces it opens are new laces inhabited by hordes heretofore unrealized, of new kindssince their movements are towards new objectives (even though formerly they were abandoned)

Presenting the Subject

For what we cannot accomplish, what is denied to love, what we have lost in the anticipationa descent follows, endless and indestructible From Paterson, Book I1

5 I

10

I

Each of the receding four poems focuses throughout on a definite theme, a definite analogy, image, object, or topic: the nameless creatures, the binoculars, the bouquet, the descent. But it would be a mistake, for instance, to say that Through Binoculars was a poem about binoculars. T h e focal object, in each poem, is made to cast a large shadow: to imply quite definite perceptions and assertions about an area of human experience or human imagination where names and objects aren't available for direct handling.

174

Presenting the Subject

Discriminations

It would also be a mistake to say that each poem was "really" about something else not present on the page: to say, for illstance, that T l l r o u g h Binoczrlars was not about binoculars. Each poem "projects" into some other area of experience the things it names and handles. T h e first of the four, W e l s h Incident, does this least of all; T h e Descent does it the most. Note that the most realistic technique is to be found in the poem with the most fanciful theme. Note that T h e Descent, perhaps the most inaccessible of the four, talks concrete language in straightforward sentences. Note that Herbert's meditations about human destiny never lose touch with the flowers.

A thing is what it is. A large part of the ~ o e t ' sjob is knowing what it is, and then recognizing that its nature is of more enduring interest than the workings of his mind in its presence. If its nature implies certain moral truths, the successful poet will persuade us that he is elucidating these because the? are contained in his subject, rather than inventing them because he feels that way.

/'

VENICE Ezra P o u n d , 1928, 1924

3 lire I j groats to stone for making a lion. Council of the lords noble, Marc Erizio Nic. Speranzo, Tomasso Gradonico: that the hall be new built over the room of the night watch and over the columns toward the canal where the walk is. 1 33 j.

I 340.

...because of the stink of the dungeons.

I

..

344.

1409... since the most serene Doge can scarce stand upright in his bedroom ... vadit pars, two gross lire stone stair, 1415, for ~ulchritudeof the palace 2 54

da parte de non 23 4 non sincere Which is to say: they built out over the arches 8. Doge: the ~ l e ofr Venice.

10.vadit

pars: the appropriation was passed.

5

175

and tht: palace hangs there in the dawn, the mist, in that dimness, or as o r ~ ero~vsin from past the murazzi the barge slow after moon-rise and the voice sounding under the sail.

A boat came, One man holding her sail, Guidicg her with oar caught over the gunwale, saying: "There, in the forest of marble, "the stone trees-out of water"the arbours of stone"marble leaf, over leaf, "silver, steel over steel, "silver beaks rising and crossing, ((prow set against prow, "stone, ply over ply, "the gilt beams Bare of an evening" Borso, Carmagnola, the men of craft, i vitrei, Thither, at one time, time after time, And the waters richer than glass, Bronze gold, the blaze over the silver, Dye-pclts in the torch-light, T h e flcsh of wave under prows, And t l e silver beaks rising and crossing. Stone trees, white and rose-white in the darkness, Cyprer s there by the towers, Drift under hulls in the night. "In the gloom the gold Gathers the light about it.'' ... From Cantos XXV and XVII 18.m u a z z i : the sea walls.

3 3 . i vitrei: the glass makers.

The first section is about the building of the Palace of the Doges (the ducal T h e first fourteen lines are entries from minute books. W h y ,lots Pound suppress the sentence of which line 7 is the completion? Is the beginning of the sentence necessary? What is gained by this compr zssion? Linzs 12-14 are a voting record: ayes, noes, and abstaining. What is

176

Discriminations

Presenting the Subject

gained by leading u p to lines 15-20 with scraps of committee minutes? Are the minutes and the romantic impression two sorts of "facts"? Note the devices by which the rhythm is varied in lines 24-32. T h e contrast between lines 27 and 28 is particularly striking. Has this any function beyond mere variety? Is there an uneasy undercurrent of the unnatural in this passage? Consider lines 25-28, 35, 40, 43-44. Venetian lavishness got rapidly out of touch with nature. What do the concluding lines imply? that the splendor shows up best against blackness? that gloom is its natural context? Is darkness present elsewhere in the passage? (The quotation marks around the last lines are to remind the reader that they have occurred previously in the Cantos.)

palaces, and the orb of her fortunes, rose together, like the Iris, painted upon the Cloud. From T h e Stones of Venice, Vol. 11, ch. 5 Which of these two impressions of Venice gives you the more information? Which gives you the sharper idea of the city? Which implies more about the quality of Venetian civilization? ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC W i l l i a m Wordsworth, I 809

Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west; the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea. And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When l-er long life hath reached its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away.

VENICE

J o h n Ruskin, I853 Such, then, was that first and fairest Venice which rose out of the barrenness of the lagoon, and the sorrow of her people; a city of graceful arcades and gleaping walls, veined with azure and warm with gold, and fretted with white sculpture like frost upon forest branches turned to marble. . . . That mighty Landscape, of dark mountains that guard the horizon with their purple towers, and solemn forests that gather their weight of leaves, bronzed with sunshine, not with age, into those gloomy masses fixed in heaven, which storm and frost have power no more to shake or shed;-that mighty Humanity, so perfect and so proud, that hides no weakness beneath the mantle, and gains no greatness from the diadem; the majesty of thoughtful form, on which the dust of gold and flame of jewels are dashed as the sea-spray upon the rock, and still the great Manhood seems to stand bare against the blue sky;-that mighty Mythology, which fills the daily walks of men with spiritual companionship, and beholds the protecting angels break with their burning presence through the arrowflights of battle;-measure the compass of that field of creation, weigh the value of the inheritance that Venice thus left to the nations of Europe, and then judge if so vast, so beneficent a power could indeed have been rooted in dissipation or decay. It was not the motlky of the when she wore the ephod of the masquer, that the fire fell upon her from heaven; and she saw the first rays of it through the rain of her own tears, when, as the barbaric deluge ebbed from the hills of Italy, the circuit of her

176

5

10

Questions

Has line 4 an exact meaning? Has "maiden City" (line 5) an exact meaning? Or is "maiden" simply a preparation for line 6? 3. Does Wordsworth make any use of the personification of the City as a woman? Or is it just "a manner of speaking"? 4. Does the poem present the real history and decline of a real city? Or does it operate at a considerable remove from the subject? 5. Is there enough substance in the first ten lines to justify the large emotional claims of the last four? Or is Wordsworth trading on the reader's knowledge of Venice? I.

2.

I5

20

25

Distinguish writing that presents some identifiable reality, whether for its own sake or as fulcrum for more arcane purposes; writing that talks about its subject; and writing that exploits the reader's previous feelings about the subject.

Discriminations

Presenting the Subject

gained by leading u p to lines 15-20 with scraps of committee minutes? Are the minutes and the romantic impression two sorts of "facts"? Note the devices by which the rhythm is varied in lines 24-32. T h e contrast between lines 27 and 28 is particularly striking. Has this any function beyond mere variety? Is there an uneasy undercurrent of the unnatural in this passage? Consider lines 25-28, 35, 40, 43-44. Venetian lavishness got rapidly out of touch with nature. What do the concluding lines imply? that the splendor shows up best against blackness? that gloom is its natural context? Is darkness present elsewhere in the passage? (The quotation marks around the last lines are to remind the reader that they have occurred previously in the Cantos.)

Which of these two impressions of Venice gives you the more information? Which gives you the sharper idea of the city? Which implies more about the quality of Venetian civilization? O N THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC W i l l i a m Wordsworth, I 809

Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; And was the safeguard of the west; the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And, when she took unto herself a Mate, She must espouse the everlasting Sea. And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When l-er long life hath reached its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away.

VENICE

5

10

177

palaces, and the orb of her fortunes, rose together, like the Iris, painted upon the Cloud. From T h e Stones of Venice, Vol. 11, ch. 5

J o h n Ruskin, I853 Such, then, was that first and fairest Venice which rose out of the barrenness of the lagoon, and the sorrow of her people; a city of graceful arcades and gleaping walls, veined with azure and warm with gold, and fretted with white sculpture like frost upon forest branches turned to marble. . . . That mighty Landscape, of dark mountains that guard the horizon with their purple towers, and solemn forests that gather their weight of leaves, bronzed with sunshine, not with age, into those gloomy masses fixed in heaven, which storm and frost have power no more to shake or shed;-that mighty Humanity, so perfect and so proud, that hides no weakness beneath the mantle, and gains no greatness from the diadem; the majesty of thoughtful form, on which the dust of gold and flame of jewels are dashed as the sea-spray upon the rock, and still the great Manhood seems to stand bare against the blue sky;-that mighty Mythology, which fills the daily walks of men with spiritual companionship, and beholds the protecting angels break with their burning presence through the arrowflights of battle;-measure the compass of that field of creation, weigh the value of the inheritance that Venice thus left to the nations of Europe, and then judge if so vast, so beneficent a power could indeed have been rooted in dissipation or decay. It was when she wore the ephod of the priest, not the motley of the masquer, that the fire fell upon her from heaven; and she saw the first rays of it through the rain of her own tears, when, as the barbaric deluge ebbed from the hills of Italy, the circuit of her

177

Questions

Has line 4 an exact meaning? Has "maiden City" (line 5) an exact meaning? Or is "maiden" simply a preparation for line 6? 3. Does Wordsworth make any use of the personification of the City as a woman? Or is it just "a manner of speaking"? 4. Does the poem present the real history and decline of a real city? Or does it operate at a considerable remove from the subject? 5. Is there enough substance in the first ten lines to justify the large emotional claims of the last four? Or is Wordsworth trading on the reader's knowledge of Venice? I.

2.

I5

20

25

writing that presents some identifiable reality, whether for its own sake or as fulcrum for more arcane purposes; writing that talks about its subject; and writing that exploits the reader's previous feelings about the subject.

178

Presenting the Subject

Discriminations

CANTO Xlll Ezra Pound, c. 1923

Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi and Tian the low speaking And "we are unknown," said Kung, "You will take up charioteering? "Then you will become known, "Or perhaps I should take up charioteering, or archery? "Or the practice of public speaking?" And Tseu-Lou said, "I would put the defences in order," And Khieu said, "If I were lord of a province I would put it in better order than this is." And Tchi said, "I w uld prefer a small mountain temple, "With order in the oI! servances, with a suitable performance of the ritual," And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute T h e low sounds continuing after his hand left the strings, And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves, And he looked after the sound: "The old swimming hole, "And the boys flopping off the planks, "Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins." And Kung smiled upon all of them equally. And Thseng-sie desired to know: "Which had answered correctly?" And Kung said, "They have all answered correctly, "That is to say, each in his nature." And Kung raised his cane against Yu?n Jang, Yuan Jang being his elder, For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to be receiving wisdom. And Kung said "You old fool, come out of it, "Get u p and do something useful." And Kung said "Respect a child's faculties

"From the moment it inhales the clear air, "But a man of fifty who knows nothing Is worthy of no respect." And "When the prince has gathered about him "All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed." And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves: If a man have not order within him H e can not spread order about him; And if a man have not order within him His family will not act with due order; And if the prince have not order within him H e can not put order in his dominions. And Kung gave the words "order" and "brotherly deference" And said nothing of the "life after death." And he said "Anyone can run to excesses, "It is easy to shoot past the mark, "It is hard to stand firm in the middle." And they said: If a man commit murder Should his father protect him, and hide him? And Kung said: H e should hide him. And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang Although Kong-Tchang was in prison. And he gave his niece to Nan-Young although Nan-Young was out of office. And Kung said "Wan ruled with moderation, "In his day the State was well kept, "And even I can remember "A day when the historians left blanks in their writings, "I mean for things they didn't know, "But that time seems to be passing. "A day when the historians left blanks in their writings, "But that time seems to be uassing." And Kung said, 'Without character you will "be unable to play on that instrument "Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.

179

40

180

Discriminations

Presenting the Subject

"The blossoms of the apricot '%low from the east to the west, "And I have tried to keep them from falling."

181

and the player) we are in possession of a piece of useful knowllame, :dgeuseful for a human being to be disabused of overis ,imDleideas.

Kung, the surname of Kung-fu-tse, better known via the Latinized form, Confucius. T h e Canto is put together entirely out of recorded scraps of his conversation, as preserved in the Analects. Only once is there mention of his writing anything down (line 45). Note the distinction between the question and the answer in lines 60-63. Can you find other instances of Kung's careful phrasing? w h a t is the tone of line I I ? W h a t determines it? Lines 6 7 6 8 distinguish Kung from the sort of sage (e.g., Socrates in PIato's Republic) who envisages a theoretical Utopia. From what other familiar wise-man conventions is he distinguished? W h a t do the last three lines mean? Note that Kung doesn't claim to have made the blossoms.

1

/ 1 ,

4 SHORT HISTORY OF TEXAS Ronald Duncan, 1950 Dedicated to EVERY,

BROTHER GEORGE

SS.M.

.The land is a desert; nothing will grow there. Railnvays can't cross it, nor bridges span it, [t is a wilderness for the wild chaste prickly pear. And there small adventure and no ~ r o f i t . Green-eyed serpents and scarlet flamingoes Scare the farmer who goes there. H e leaves a poet.

How much does this poem tell you that you didn't know before? You shouldn't have an ihmediate answer to this, but it should open your mind to possibilities. One major reason for reading is to learn things you didn't know. This applies to reading poetry.

Land only fit for the cumbersome buffaloes flesquite grass just good enough for goats' grazing 4 wind-scorched pasture and not a tree grows

-

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/

T h e poet "is always trying his very best to refine his work until it is nothing else but 'useful knowledge.' "-WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS In mid-twentieth century publishers' lists, a useful book is one that tells you how to repair the refrigerator, plan a trip to France, or improrc your golf. Does not this conception of usefulness reflect an assumption that the worth-whileness of being alive consists in being able to keep active, like a yo-yo? W h a t kept the Greek and Latin classics current For nineteen centurin was not a conspiracy of schoolmasters but the unchallenged con~'iction that they were composed of useful knowledge, historical, moral. ~ 0 ~ ~ ~ and emotional. Useful knowledge furnishes the mind, nourishes its impulses. guides its deliberations, and sharpens its perceptions. "1-lomer was the educator of Greece." Art will mere information "h'n ever it has a chance; for most literate EnRlish-spcaking people* 11'1"" Caesar, Brutus, and King Henry V are known by ".'I' 'I' Shakespeare. Whenever some reality is set vividly before the mind, or set into soluble relation with some other reality (as Macbeth sets life. the

'""'

There, there the panther the night devours the heron the morning, Till the sun steps into the day's damn dryness there. :\ dry wind blowing and no rain falling.

I

10

'This is the hell that divides America

IIunning from the Rockies to Sierra Gorge cowring Texas, Kansas, Wyoming and Minnesota.'

15

\veil. that is what Pike said or Major George ' ' .

and other explorers who tried to cross it uith inadequate vision and too much luggage. The blizzard blew the tvres off my wagon, and our kit buried in the running sand.' I quote Greeley, ""' Tribune. T H E Yankee Trumpet

' :I

Of

'%9. And these reports merely p"r"'ra~cd the Southerners to secede f-,. Old Deal not dealt squarely.

'"

20

182

Presenting the Subject

Discriminations

'If nature divides us, so should the Law. What we need

T h e mounted Comanche had taken and torn our saddles, blankets and a Spanish treaty W e movcd south to Drilzos \vhcrc n.c grcn 2.1:)dcorn

25

the East can't send us, and if they could, they would not. W e pawn our harvest when we buy our seed.'

Whom we could only pay in land, paper or land-all equally ealue!css in Texas, where horses needed, women wanted, and few of either

.

,

this side of San Antonio. It was not fear that beat us, it was not luck that beat us but the Comanche's weapons. For the first seven years

35

it was fight and no surrender. W e fought, we must, For the Comanche's saddle takes no prisoner. Our Rangers lay like pincushions in the dust,

'Fifteen suns after, by the river, strangers. Strangers sitting on the four-legged wind. T h e first arrow killed him. H e fell. T h e limbed lightning trotted towards US.' By 1714 the Comanche entirely mounted)

not a prayer or a sod over them. And there was no getting around it whilst the Comanche rode with 40 arrows to the Texan's hair

. . . thanks to Corondo who lost his horses looking for gold at Quivira, as did Moscoso.

trigger gun needing two minutes to load and we couldn't fire the damn things if mounted. They made us porcupines. I had thc sense to flee.'

And before him De Soto. And old IS-A-Keep said : 'My own sons could steal more horses than were bought or sold

In 1830, Sar;zuel Colt, sailor, carved out of driftwood the first -revolver,.^ .34 calibre, patented, the first six-chambered-

At Santa Fe.' All Arabs of the blood With the electric eye and the alarmed nostril beasts saddled with silver and already shod.

which he had good reason to call the Tcxas, for the Rangers carried at Pederznles onc a piece, when fourteen met seventy Comanches or more

Mount one of these, you fly, you are a god. T h e bison sniffs, it is a race, it is a kill T h e hot horse stamps the earth, the women catch the blood.

'but we were not outnumbered, not the least, for Colt's gun multiplied one man by six. T h e Indians attacked on their black-blooded beasts.

55

'Poor as sandbanks and drought and indolence can make it, void of timber and covered with thorn' -Austin, somewhere around Laredo-'and since

182

25

35

60

this side of San Antonio. It was not fcar that beat us, it was not luck that beat us but the Comanche's weapons. For the first seven years it was fight and no surrender. W e fought, we must, For the Comanche's saddle takes no prisoner. Our Rangers lay like pincushions in the dust,

'Fifteen suns after, by the river, strangers. Strangers sitting on the four-legged wind. T h e first arrow killed him. H e fell. T h e limbed lightning trotted towards us.' By 1714 the Comanche entirely mounted)

not a prayer or a sod over them. And there was no getting around it whilst the Comanche rode with 40 arrows to the Texan's hair

. . . thanks to Corondo who lost his horses looking for gold at Quivira, as did Moscoso.

trigger gun needing two minutes to load and we couldn't fire the damn things if mounted. They made us porcupines. 1 had thc sense to flee.'

And before him De Soto. And old IS-A-Keep said : 'My own sons could steal more horses than were bought or sold

In 1830, Sanzuel Colt, sailor, carved out of driftwood the first revolv~r,.~ .34 calibre, patented, the first six-chambered-

At Santa Fe.' All Arabs of the blood With the electric eye and the alarmed nostril beasts saddled with silver and already shod.

which he had good reason to call the Texas, for the Rangers carried at Pederznles onc a piece, when fourteen met seventy Comanches or more

Mount one of these, you fly, you are a god. T h e bison sniffs, it is a race, it is a kill T h e hot horse stamps the earth, the women catch the blood.

'but we were not outnumbered, not the least, for Colt's gun multiplied onc man by six. T h e Indians attacked on their black-blooded beasts.

'Poor as sandbanks and drought and indolence can make it, void of timber and covered with thorn' -Austin, somewhere around Laredo-'and since

183

Whom we could only pay in land, paper or land-all equally valuc!css in Texas, where horses needed, women wanted, and few of either

.

/

T h e mounted Comanche had taken and torn our saddles, blankets and a Spanish treaty LVe mo\wl south to Brnzo3 \\ here n c grcn 2 ),)d corn

90

When we were not harried by the Cherokees Tukiases and Wacos. I wrote Washington then joined the Rangers with fellows from Tennessee,

And so the Plains got left to the Indians for a time, to the red-skinned Apache, to the Arapaho, to people, not damned pedestrians, But a race mounted. . . ('Our eyes had not met it before. It stood on a hill W e bellied the ground about five furlongs from it, Our eyes as arrows shot to its head to its strong shoulders. W e elbowed towards it. Its ears moved. Its nostrils opened. It mounted the wind and was gone.

I

W e emptied our riflcs first. They, to their tricks circled to draw our fire. U7e let them ride. Then we mounted. W e pursued. And powdcr burned thcir backs.'

Presenting the Subject

Discriminations

'If nature divides us, so should the Law. What we need the East can't send us, and if they could, thcy would not. W e pawn our harvest when we buy our seed.'

60

When we were not harried by the Cherokees Tukiases and Wacos. I wrote'washington then joined the Rangers with fellows from Tennessee,

And so the Plains got left to the Indians for a time, to the red-skinned Apache, to the Arapaho, to people, not damned pedestrians, But a race mounted. . . ('Our eyes had not met it before. It stood on a hill W e bellied the !ground about five furlongs from it, Our eyes as arrows shot to its head to its strong shoulders. W e elbowed towards it. Its ears moved. Its nostrils opened. It mounted the wind and was gone.

183

55

W e emptied our riflcs first. They, to their tricks circled to draw our fire. W e let them ride. Then we mounted. W e pursued. And powdcr burned thcir backs.'

90

184

Presenting the Subject

Discriminations

'Never', said an old Indian, 'were we more surprised. T h e Rangers had a shot for every finger Along the trail to Devil's River seventy Indians died.'

Our herd trail-broken, plenty of water and grass filling their bellies. Quiet on their bed ground. N o milling. None lame and not a single loss-

With a small hole in their sunburnt backs the warriors lay as adverts to Samuel Colt's Incorporation to progress, and the genius of sailors!

except a mule swimming, sank, not found, And plenty of wood for the camp fire and new yarns which hadn't got around and around. Whoopee ti-yi-yo get along little dogies it's your misfortune and none of my own 0-h! get along little dogies For you know U'yoming will be your new home.'

And the porthole the sun on the rimmed horizon scalds the woman's shoulder as her knees fall to the dust, to do what has to be done, Done at a birth and done at a burial. Wash the blood and bring clean linen. Anoint the limbs and brush the hair. That is all.

W e watered at the Indian Lakes and were Set for a dry drive-sixty miles to the divide, Fifteen miles daily-four days without water

Whoopee ti-yi-yo. Get along little dogies It's your misfdtune and none of my own Whoopee ti-yi-yo get along little dogies For you know Wyoming will be your new home.' T h e contract called for 3,000 cattle. T h e trail Pasco Granado to Blackfoot Agency. Left the Rio Grande March I 5 in fine fettle

And God knows a thirsty herd is a rough ride What with four mounts during the day and only One hour in the blanket-bridle by our side. W e threw the beeves off the bedground early before the sun dried the dew off the grass. Forty-five miles to go now and we moved slowly

IIC

With six months to make it at fifteen miles daily, T e n horses per man in our remuda. well maybe. Can we make it? Yes,

with the arse cattle now trying to pass the lead, then the lead bullocks suddenly surging like a clumsy ocean back to the arse,

Boys you can all shoot u p Ogalalla Get soused in Abilcve or skinned in Dodge when we get there. Till then the saddle's your bar.

and still thirty miles to go thirsty and our sullen cattle lolled their tongues an ominous appeal persistently.

Beat it! Wait a minute. Don't let cows budge a foot lest they're moving our way And our way is: after Abilene, Dodge!

T h e next day's nasty heat, the torrid sun, flies drawing human fury and a white bone on the way saying: the plains had often won

Get going! O h by the way. O n this trail what I say goes-whether I'm right or wrong. Don't argue. One boss better than six who can't agree.

the last lap, now fifteen miles. A skeleton said 'Mon ami pierrot.' Death's a bad poet Four of us holding the lead now au clair de la Iune.

'For the first few days followed the Luguna Madre Swam the Atoscossa. A week to pass two ranches: "The Laurel" and "The Running W".'

Noon the next day trees! trees! we've made it Whoopee! git along little dogies-here we let the cattle surge towards it.

125

i

185

186

Discriminations

Presenting the Subiect

T o the water, watcr which wasn't there. There the river's obese bottom like a heap of bowels baked in the sun. There was no water there.

interest would set them up proper, and say what about Aunt Maud's legacy? Tell her to send me £100 instead of letting it lay

W e dug a well with basins as trowels. This way two of our horses watered. T h e rest circled the bellowing maddened cows

like lumber in the Devon and Exetershe'd be frightened by the proceeds; age could do with: clothes, more fowls, etcetera.

till morning. And at last we coaxed the herd into a trail to go twenty miles to water. Without spit to sing, we rode saying never a word.

Sure, I'm glad Dad's paid off his mortgage at last, and bought the Western meadows and the run right down to the Vicarage

At noon they started to mill. W e quartered, cutting the mass at breakneck speed, then like a damn lost cartwheel we slithered

That gives him forty acres more. I know he's been after that plot of grass for years and how he'll sweat to get the grass to grow

over the prairie. T h n the lead ran over its traces and t e herd stampeded like a mighty river. W e fired our guns

4

I

Mother, do then but show that you complain too late? Better he sell the land and rest and let me graze his cash upon the Plains.

straight at their faces. Threw our ropes. Cut the lead. But nothing would stop them. And slowly my mind admitted the whole mad herd was stone blind

I can get yearlings at a £ I , the best , fatten them on free range for nought cost ~ o s .and and sell at fifteen quid the thinnest beast.

thundering sixty miles back to the Lakes. Oh! if I owned Hell and Texas Sir, well I'd lct Tcxas Sir, and live myself in Hell!'

Or put it this way; say, Dad and you bought a hundred cows: in ten years' time they would by breeding number I ,400 and ought

Quoting Letter from Tom Wade to his Riother: 'Circle Dot Ranch, Texas, Jan. I 863. My dear Mother thank you for your letter and the gloves. Glad you're all well. As for me I'm swell. Waal, that is to say, I'm very well. How's Devon? Still gossiping about me?

and how he'll keep a bigger bunch of steers now, and never see his fire or chair again till Doctor chains him to it. What will tears,

to sell at £20 a piece which should bring you £28,000 at least which is more than they meadows would or could! Your loving son, Tom Wade.'

185

Yes, I guess. Yip-hi-yo!And will you tell Dad and Uncle Will that if they came here they could buy beeves at four bucks and then sell

And the reply from Mr. Calib Wade reads: 'Your Mother has persuaded me. I've sent you the enclosed £200 and left the deeds

at forty: profit of L9 per steer just by trailing stock I'orth to the railway. Feed costs nothing and land costs less, a year's

of Western meadows at the bank. They lent at ten per cent-dear for such a fat pasture which will be gazed bald if I'm to pay the rent

lgO

I

187

188

Presenting the Subiect

Discriminations

passion the moment you dare utter a word disclaiming their right to dictate to you what barb wire you shall use. But their words are idle tales tivice told. It is easy to threaten and tell a plausible story but the facts remain unaltered that HAISH has patents and claims on barb wire and machinery for its manufacture which lie back of everything in the control of these miserable MONOPOLISTS. Such being the case HAISH guarantees to all vendors and consumers of HIS barb wire a safe passport from perils by Land or SEA.

from here. Your scheme may be good but whether a hundred cows can breed to I ,400 in ten years I doubt-unless each calf's a heifer! Most improbable to your loving Father.' 1877: T h e editor of The Galveston News opens u p his correspondent column T h e subject 'Hedge plants' . wants his readers' views.

..

VICTORIOUS A N D TRIUMPHANT!'

H e gets them. One thousand suggestions and some sent cuttings of prickly pear, briar roses, thorn Locust and osage-orange seeds; but none

?

270

SANDBORN & WARNER

Damn Nesters! drawing with ploughs the ranchers' range, turning the sods over which were all right way u p in the first place. Damn Nesters!

Manufacturer's sole agent for the State of Texas. GLIDDEN'S P A T E N T 24 5

STEEL BARB FENCE W I R E GALVANIZED OR JAPANNED

STEEL FENCE WIRE

I T S SALES ARE 5 TIMES GREATER T H A N T H A T O F ALL O T H E R WIRES COMBINED THEREFORE I T M U S T BE THE BEST

Sold on its merits and not through the influence of threatened Lawsuits

I

WHOM T H E GODS DESTROY

j

T H E Y FIRST MAKE MAD Hence the impotent rage of men who have sought to defend the legitimate results of IIAISH'S ingenuity who have blindly supp s e d they could hoodwink him and draw from his possession the various patents and claims which he owns knowing as they did full well that unless they could secure some of the BOTTOM PATB'NTS owned by him there was no prospect of ever being able to hold the BROAD CLAIM. Yet the MONOPOLISTS will fly into a

265

T h e y say that heaven is a free range land Good-bye, Good-bye, 0 fare you well; But it's barb wire for the devil's hat band; And barbed wire blankets down in hell,'

of these helped the Nesters much who born to field cultivation couldn't stick it there without fence timber a d what there was, gone.

'VICTORIOUS A N D T R I U M P H A N T ! HAISH'S IMPROVED BARB

189

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1881. T h e first barb wire fence erected by Colonel Day in Coleman County enclosing 7,000 acres. T h e consequence:

255

I 260

T h e y say that heaven is a free range land good-bye, good-bye O h fare you well. . . You can have Texas. I'll have hell.'

'CHICAGO TRIBUNE

HELL BREAKS LOOSE I N TEXAS

280

28 5

190

Discriminations

Presenting the Subject

W I R E CTJTTERS C U T 500 MILES IN COLEMAN C O U N T Y '

wheat after wheat with no fallow. Then death rounded the cattle up, and the wheat fields saddened to dust and lost the knack of birth

'And, Sir, why the bloody hell shouldn't we? W h o owns Coleman County, Day or God, Sir? At any rate, we were here first. And we

and the plump seeds satiety and yield of bread, dung and a full cradle. And here even our fat graves are by fine dust concealed.

got this place going and where Indians were we are-for good. And if they wire, we cut. Now come and see our steers' torn backs and where My fifteen horses lie torn and dead, but for just dying. Wire started those sores then the screw-worm gets in. If they wire, we cut!' And that's what we did foda year, but when I saw that blasted thing making a 1,000 feet of wire per minute, 1 wrote to my men: 'You may as well quit cutting, boys, we're beat!' Railways and barb wire made cowboys retire Same as we made the Indians retreat. History you observe was made of barb wire and previously a Colt revolver. And if Texas is Hell, Man lit the fire by burning the watersheds and never planting a single sapling. And what's worse, mad with nickle greed he overgrazed the pasture and with prairie busters ripped the earth's belly, behind his plough a wake of birds squall incessantly over birth and death found in the black furrow. And the herd got crowded to two per acre. Mesquite ousted the thick lush cover, and the sward unshaded and sun-scorched died in the heat trees would have alleviated, and earth became dust, dust where there'd been wheat

191

'We push our barrows from Illinnesota. T h e Land is a desert. Nothing will grow there.' 300

I

305

T h e rhyme scheme (plain from lines 45-55) is the terza rima, or triple rhvme, used by Dante in the Divine Covzedy (page 192). Why does Duncan choose to remind us of Dante? W h y are the rhymes so unobtrusive? T h e rhythm is an irregular four-beat measure with the lope of a horse in it. , ' What can the poet present that the history book can't?

,

1 '

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

rvlnrvl

Values:

The Writer's

Scale of Judgment

THE DEATH OF ULYSSES

Dante Alighieri, c. I 3 I 5 In the eighth circle of hell Ulysses and Diomed are imprisoned together in a flame for the treachery by which they procured the sack of Troy. Dante desires to hear of Ulysses' end. T h e greater horn of the ancient flame was stirred T o shudder and make a murmur, like a fire When in the wind it struggles and is blurred, Then tossed upon a flickering crest yet higher, As it had been a tongue that spoke, it cast A voice forth from the strength of its desire, Saying: "When I from Circe broke at last, W h o more than a year by Gaeta (before Aeneas had so named it) held me fast, Not sweet son, nor revered old father, nor T h e long-due love which was to have made glad Penelope for all the pain she bore, Could conquer the inward hunger that I had T o master earth's experience, and to attain Knowledge of man's mind, both the good and bad. But I put out on the deep, open main With one ship only, and with that little band Which chose not to desert me; far as Spain, 192

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Far as Morocco, either shore I scanned. Sardinia's isle I coasted, steering true, And the isles of which that water bathes the strand. I and my crew were old and stiff of thew When, at the narrow pass, we could discern The marks that Hercules set far in view That none should dare beyond, or further learn. Already I had Sevilla on the right, And on the larboard Ceuta lay astern. 'Brothers,' I said, 'who manfully, despite Ten thousand perils, have attained the West, In the brief vigil that remains of light T o feel in, stoop not to renounce the quest Of what may in the sun's path be essayed, T h e world that never mankind hath possessed. Think on the seed ye spring from! Ye were made Not to live life of brute beasts of the field But follow virtue and knowledge unafraid.' With such few words their spirit so I steel'd, That I thereafter scarce could have contained My comrades from the voyage, had I willed. And, our poop turned to where the Morning reigned, W e made, for the mad flight, wings of our oars, And on the left continually we gained. By now the Night beheld within her course All stars of the other pole, and ours so low, It was not lifted from the ocean-floors. Five times beneath the moon rekindled slow The light had been, and quenched as oft, since we Broached the &rd issue we were sworn to know, When there arose a mountain in the sea, Dimm'd by the distance: loftier than aught That ever I beheld, it seemed to be. Then we rejoiced; but soon to grief were brought. A storm came out of the strange land, and found T h e ship, and violently the forepart caught. Three times it made her to spin round and round With all the waves; and, as Another chose, The fourth time, heaved the poop up, the prow drowned, Till over us we heard the waters close." (Translated from the Italian by Laurence Binyon, c. 1933) Inferno, XXVI

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A translation isn't Dante, but this one is infinitely better than most. How well Binyon has been able to maintain the forward drive of the narrative, prevent the rhymes from cluttering the sense, and, in fact, use them to clarify the sense and facilitate straightforward reading by zoning out subordinate clauses, can be gauged from a parallel sample of Longfellow's I 865 version :

'0 brothers, who amid a hundred thousand Perils,' I said, 'have come unto the West, T o this so inconsiderable vigil Which is remaining of your senses still Be ye unwilling to deny the knowledge, Following the sun, of the unpeopled world.

him at sea throughout the Odyssey, but the god was just a shrewd Greek like himself, and Ulysses was always the shrewder and hardier. T h e death he now undergoes rhymes with the death he so often evaded. Note how in lines 7-12 he will allow no human bond (Circe's charms, his son, his father, his wife) to restrain him. These are "others" whom he disregards. Dante uses the whole story to pass a medieval judgment on Greek civilization, yet doesn't deprive Ulysses of heroic stature. T h e Renaissance lost touch with Dante.

PRAISE OF POWER Christopher AlIarlowe, I587

. . .' I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains, And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about.

TAMBURLAINE.

Line 18 of the Binyon passage Longfellow renders, "By which I never had deserted b e d Nothing is more annoying in short stretches, or more fatiguing in long ones, than writing which would not make good prose, but whose divergences from a prose norm are determined by exigencies unrelated to the meaning. Longfellow isn't striving to entrap a complex meaning, he is simply caught in the toils of his meter. "Never had deserted been" is an attempt to get "had never been deserted" into iambic pentameter. Circe (line 7) was the enchantress who delayed Ulysse; on his homeward voyage; the story is told in the tenth book of Homer's Odyssey. Penelope (line 12) was Ulysses' wife, who waited nineteen years for his homecoming. "The marks" (line 24) are the Pillars of Hercules on either side of the Strait of Gibraltar. Ulysses ventures out of the Mediterranean into the open Atlantic. In what direction did they sail (lines 40-42)? "Ours" (line 44) is the northern pole star; it has gone below the horizon because they have crossed the equator. How long do they sail (line 46)? W h o is "Another" (line 56)? Comparing Binyon's version of lines 28 to 33 with Longfellow's, try to see how Binyon uses the rhymes to keep the sense clear. Are the rhyming words pivotal points in the sense? D o they correspond to natural pauses? T r y changing some of Binyon's line endings (e.g., "of light" to "for us") and see if the passage suffers. Look up a prose translation of the same passage (the end of Canto XXVI of the Inferno). Does the narrative move as rapidly? T h e locution "Another" (line 56) is deliberately chosen. This is the first time a power other than himself, and beyond his capacity to circumvent, has ever impinged on Ulvsses' life. T h e pagan storm-pod harassed

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Nature that fram'd us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend T h e wondrous architecture of the world, And measure ev'ry wand'ring planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Wills us to wear ourselves, and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, T h e perfect bliss and sole felicity, T h e sweet fruition of an earthly crown. From Tamburlaine, I, ii, and 11, vii

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4. regiment: ruIe.

T h e audience would have acquiesced in lines I 1-14 as the staple of a thousand sermons, until startled into delicious horror by the one unexpected word, "earthly." Not only does this Renaissance hero not reckon with acting "as Another chose"; he coolly appropriates the formulas by which man's obligation to aspire to heaven was customarily expressed. As you read the passage, are you strongly aware of where the lines end, or do they flow together? What effect does Marlowe secure by this means? Do you get the impression that Tamburlaine has an interesting mind? That his valzres-i.e., his modes of judging his own and other people's activities-are sophisticated? rudimentary? crude? confused?

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

A translation isn't Dante, but this one is infinitely better than most. How well Binyon has been able to maintain the forward drive of the narrative, prevent the rhymes from cluttering the sense, and, in fact, use them to clarify the sense and facilitate straightforward reading by zoning out subordinate clauses, can be gauged from a parallel sample of Longfellow's I 865 version:

'0 brothers, who amid a hundred thousand Perils,' I said, 'have come unto the West, T o this so inconsiderable vigil Which is remaining of your senses still Be ye unwilling to deny the knowledge, Following the sun, of the unpeopled world.

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him at sea throughout the Odyssey, but the god was just a shrewd Greek like himself, and Ulysses was always the shrewder and hardier. T h e death he now undergoes rhymes with the death he so often evaded. Note how in lines 7-1 2 he will allow no human bond (Circe's charms, his son, his father, his wife) to restrain him. These are "others" whom he disregards. Dante uses the whole story to pass a medieval judgment on Greek civilization, yet doesn't deprive Ulysses of heroic stature. T h e Renaissance lost touch with Dante.

PRAISE OF POWER Christopher Marlowe, 1587

. . .' I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains, And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about.

TAMBURLAINE.

Line I 8 of the Binyon passage Longfellow renders, "By which I never had deserted b e d Nothing is more annoying in short stretches, or more fatiguing in long ones, than writing which would not make good prose, but whose divergences from a prose norm are determined by exigencies unrelated to the meaning. Longfellow isn't striving to entrap a complex meaning, he is simply caught in the toils of his meter. "Never had deserted been" is an attempt to get "had never been deserted" into iambic pentameter. Circe (line 7) was the enchantress who delayed Ulysse; on his homeward voyage; the story is told in the tenth book of Homer's Odyssey. Penelope (line 12) was Ulysses' wife, who waited nineteen years for his homecoming. "The marks" (line 24) are the Pillars of Hercules on either side of the Strait of Gibraltar. Ulysses ventures out of the Mediterranean into the open Atlantic. In what direction did they sail (lines 40-42)? "Ours" (line 44) is the northern pole star; it has gone below the horizon because they have crossed the equator. How long do they sail (line 46)? W h o is "Another" (line 56)? Comparing Binyon's version of lines 28 to 33 with Longfellow's, try to see how Binyon uses the rhymes to keep the sense clear. Are the rhyming words pivotal points in the sense? Do they correspond to natural pauses? T r y changing some of Binyon's line endings (e.g., "of light" to "for us)') and see if the passage suffers. Look up a prose translation of the same passage (the end of Canto XXVI of the Inferno). Does the narrative move as rapidly? T h e locution "Another" (line 56) is deliberately chosen. This is the first time a power other than himself, and beyond his capacity to circumvent, has ever impinged on Ulvsses' life. T h e pagan storm-pod harassed

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Nature that fram'd us of four elements, Warring within our breasts for regiment, Doth teach us all to have aspiring minds: Our souls, whose faculties can comprehend T h e wondrous architecture of the world, And measure ev'ry wand'ring planet's course, Still climbing after knowledge infinite, And always moving as the restless spheres, Wills us to wear ourselves, and never rest, Until we reach the ripest fruit of all, T h e perfect bliss and sole felicity, T h e sweet fruition of an earthly crown. From Tamburlaine, I, ii, and 11, vii

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4. regiment: rule.

T h e audience would have acquiesced in lines I 1-14 as the staple of a thousand sermons, until startled into delicious horror by the one unexpected word, "earthly." Not only does this Renaissance hero not reckon with acting "as Another chose"; he coolly appropriates the formulas by which man's obligation to aspire to heaven was customarily expressed. As you read the passage, are you strongly aware of where the lines end, or do they flow together? W h a t effect does Marlowe secure by this means? Do you get the impression that Tamburlaine has an interesting mind? That his valzres-i.e., his modes of judging his own and other people's activities-are sophisticated? rudimentary? crude? confused?

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Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere

ULYSSES

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 842 -..

It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an agitd wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees. All times have I enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea. I am become a name; For always m i n g with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known,-cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honoured of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; For all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, T o rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire T o follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, T o whom I leave the sceptre and the isleWell-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labor, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees 9ubdue them to the useful and the good.

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Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. H e works his work, I.mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with meThat ever with a frolic welcome took T h e thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads-you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honour and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. T h e lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; T h e long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite T h e sounding furrows; for my purpose holds T o sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though W e are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will T o strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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"For narrative Tennyson had no gift at all. For a static poem, and a moving poem, on the same subject, you have only to compare his Ulysses with the condensed and intensely exciting narrative of that hero in the XXVIth Canto of Dante's Inferno. Dante is telling a story. Tennvson is only stating an elegiac mood. T h e vew greatest poets set before vou real men talking, carry you on in real events moving." -T. S. ELIOT.DOyou agree? What signs are there that Ulysses conveys only the illusion of narrative? Does the speaker ever move from "this still hearth"? IS the speech

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

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Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere

ULYSSES

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I 842 '.-..

It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an agitd wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees. All times have I enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea. I am become a name; For always m i n g with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known,-cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honoured of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; For all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, T o rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire T o follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, T o whom I leave the sceptre and the isleWell-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labor, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees 9ubdue them to the useful and the good.

Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, UJhen I am gone. H e works his work, I.mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with meThat ever with a frolic welcome took T h e thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads-you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honour and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. T h e lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; T h e long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite T h e sounding furrows; for my purpose holds T o sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though W e are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will T o strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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"For narrative Tennyson had no gift at all. For a static poem, and a moving poem, on the same subject, you have only to compare his Ulysses with the condensed and intensely exciting narrative of that hero in the XXVIth Canto of Dante's Inferno. Dante is telling a story. Tennvson is only stating an elegiac mood. T h e venr greatest poets set before vou real men talking, carry you on in real events moving." -T. S. ELIOT.DOyou agree? What signs are there that Ulysses conveys only the illusion of narrative? Does the speaker ever move from "this still hearth"? Is the speech

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to the mariners beginning in line 45 really uttered to real mariners at this point, or is it only something the speaker imagines himself saying? Tennyson's poem is contained in lines 1-15 and 28-36 of Dante's passage. Has Tennyson gained anything by expanding fifteen lines into seventy? lost anything? Consider lines 18-21. Try to work out the image around which the sentence is built. T h e expansion of the view through an arch as one moves forward seems to be. the main analogy; does the "margin" of such a view "fade" as one moves? If the process of gaining experience is the moving forward, can it be at the same time an arch through which one moves? Compare lines 118-21 with Dante's lines 1-15. Does Tenn~son's image add anythinb? Is he really elaborating the idea, or just blurring it? Do certain lines of Tennyson's stand out and stick in the memory? If some of them do, try to decide why. Is Telemachus patronized in lines 33-43? Do lines 22-23 say the same thing over four ways? Does Dante do anything similar? Dante explicitly shows Ulysses casting aside specific domestic obligations to gratify his hunger for experience and knowledge. Does Tennyson's Ulysses make a decision of this kind, or does Tennyson allow his poem to endorse, without qualification, ceaseless activity? Is Tennyson at all interested in the moral nature of Ulysses' activities? Are the values he implies comparable with those of Dante? (Note that this is not the same thing as asking whether he is a greater or lesser poet.) To the extent that Tennyson's imagination-as distinguished from his technical ability-was the conventional imagination of his time, he provides us not with a vision of Ulysses but with a piece of highly accomplished Victorian English poetry.

MARIANA Alfred, Lord T e n n ~ s o n ,I 833 With blackest moss the flower-pots Were thickly crusted, one and all : T h e rusted nails fell from the knots That held the pear to the gable-wall. T h e broken sheds look'd sad and strange: Unlifted was the creaking latch; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch

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Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, 'My life is dreary, H e cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!' I-Ier tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew the casement curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, 'The night is dreary, H e cometh not,' she said; She said, '1 am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!' Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: T h e cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, 'The day is dreary, H e cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!' About a stone-cast from the wall A sluice with blacken'd waters slept, And o'er it manv, round and small, T h e cluster'd marish-mosses crept. Hard by a poplar shook alway, All silver-green with gnarled bark: For leagues no other tree did mark T h e level waste, the rounding gray. She only said, 'My life is dreary, H e cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!'

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Discriminations And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds wcre up and away, In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low, And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She on+id, 'The night is dreary, H e cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!' All day within the dreamy house, T h e doors upon their hinges creak'd; T h e blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd, Or from the crevice peer'd about. Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors, Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices called her from without. y is dreary, She only said, ' ~ life H e cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!'

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2. T h e statement of her moods is confined to the almost unvarying refrain. What is going on in the rest of the poem? 3. Could the order of the stanzas be rearranged? 4. Would one stanza be sufficient?

Mariana represents the sort of thing Tennyson did best. T h e world of the poem makes contact with the world familiar to the reader almost entirely by way of sharply observed static detail. Unlike Ulysses, Mariana does not require its author to expose his intuitions of human behavior. H e is especially tactful in not trying to squeeze out of his subject more than it contains.

THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB AT SAINT PRAXED'S CHURCH Rome, 15Robert Browning, I 845

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T h e sparrow's chirrup on the roof, T h e slow clock ticking, and the sound Which to the wooing wind aloof T h e poplar made, did all confound Her sense; but most she loathed the hour When the thick-moted sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Was sloping toward his western bower. Then, said she, 'I am very dreary, H e will not come,' she said; She wept, 'I am aweary, aweary, Oh God, that I were dead!' Questions "The blue fly sung in the pane: the line would be ruined if you substituted sang for szrnq."-T. s. ELIOT. Why should subtle precisions of sound matter so much in this poem? I.

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Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews-sons mine . . . ah God, I know not! WellShe, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What's done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world's a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask, "Do I live, am I dead?" Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: -Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South H e graced his carrion with, God curse the same! Yet still my niche is not so cramped but thence One sees the pulpit o' the epistle-side, And somewhat of the choir, those silent seats, And up into the aery dome where live T h e angels, and a sunbeam's sure to lurk: And I shall fill my slab of basalt there, And 'neath my tabernacle take my rest,

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With those nine columns round me, two and two, T h e odd one at my feet where Anselm stands: Peach-blossom marble all, the rare, the ripe As fresh-poured red wine of a mighty pulse. -Old Gandolf with his paltry onion-stone, Put me where I may look at him! True peach, Rosy and flawless: how I earned the prize! Draw close: t&conflagration of my church -What then? S o much was saved if aught were missed! My sons, ye would not be my death? Go dig T h e white-grape vineyard where the oil-press stood, Drop water gently till the surface sink, And if ye find . . Ah God, I know not, I! Bedded in store of rotten fig-leaves soft, And corded u p in a tight olive-frail, Some lump, ah God, of lapis lazuli, Big as a Jew's head cut off at the nape, Blue as a vein o'er the Madonna's breast Sons, all have I bequeathed you, villas, all, That brave Frascati villa with its bath, So, let the blue lump poise between my knees, Like God the Father's globe on both his hands Ye worship in the Jesu Church so gay, For Gandolf shall not choose but see and burst! Swift as a weaver's shuttle fleet our years: Man goeth to the grave, and where is he? Did I say basalt for my slab, sons? Black'Twas ever antique-black I meant! How else Shall ye contrast my frieze to come beneath? T h e bas-relief in bronze ye promised me, Those Pans and Nymphs ye wot of, and perchance Some tripod, thyrsus, with a vase or so, T h e Savior at his sermon on the mount, Saint Praxed in a glory, and one Pan Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off, And Moses with the tables . . but I know Ye mark me not! What do they whisper thee, Child of my bowels, Anselm? Ah, ye hope T o revel down my villas while I gasp Brick'd o'er with beggar's moldy travertine Which Gandolf from his tomb-top chuckles at! Nay, boys, ye love me-all of jasper, then! 'Tis jasper ye stand pledged to, lest I grieve.

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My bath must needs be left behind, alas! . nut, One block, pure grecn 3s a pist nc 1110 There's plenty jasper somewhere in the worldAnd have I not Saint Praxed's ear to pray Horses for ye, and brown Greek manuscripts, And mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs? -That's if ye carve my epitaph aright, Choice Latin, picked ~ h r a s eTully's , every word, N o gaudy ware like Gandolf's second lineTully, my masters? Ulpian serves his need! And then how I shall lie through centuries, And hear the blessed mutter of the mass, And see God made and eaten all day long, And feel the steady candle-flame, and taste Good, strong, thick, stupefying incense-smoke! For as I lie here, hours of the dead night, Dying in state and by such slow degrees, I fold my arms as if they clasped a crook, And stretch my feet forth straight as stone can point, And let the bedclothes, for a mortcloth, drop Into great laps and folds of sculptor's-work: And as yon tapers dwindle, and strange thoughts Grow, with a certain humming in my ears, About the life I lived before this life, And this liEe too, popes, cardinals and priests, Saint Praxed at his sermon on the mount, Your tall pale mother with her talking eyes, And new-found agate urns as fresh as day, And marble's language, Latin pure, discreet, -Aha, ELUCESCEBAT quoth our friend? N o Tully, said I, Ulpian at the best! Evil and brief hath been my pilgrimage. All h p i s , all, sons! Else I give the Pope My villas! Will ye ever eat my heart? Ever your eyes were as a lizard's quick, They glitter lil\e your mother's for my soul, Or ye urould heighten my impoverished frieze, Piece out its starved design, and fill my vase With grapes, and add a visor and a Term, And to the tripod ye would tie a lvnx That in his struggle throws the thyrsus down,

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Discriminations T o comfort me on my entablature Whereon 1 am to lie till I must ask, "Do I live, am I dead?" There, leave me, there! For ye have stabbed me with ingratitude T o death-ye wish it-God, ye wish it! StoneGritstone, a-crumble! Clammy squares which sweat As if the corpse they keep were oozing throughAnd no more lapis to delight the world! Well, go! I bless ye. Fewer tapers there, But in a row: and, going, turn your backs -Aye, like departing altar-ministrants, And leave me in my church, the church for peace, That I may watch at leisure if he leersOld Gandolf-at me, from his onion-stone, As still he envied me, so iair she was!

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

SO many waiting, how many waiting? what did it matter, on such a day? Are they coming? No, not yet. You can see some eagles. And hear the trumpets. Here they come. Is he coming? T h e natural wakeful life of our Ego is a perceiving. W e can wait with our stools and our sausages. What comes first? Can you see? Tell us. It is

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5,800,ooo rifles and carbines, 102,000 machine guns, 28,000 trench mortars, 53,000 field and heavy guns, I cannot tell how many projectiles, mines and fuses, I 3,000 aeroplanes, 24,000 aeroplane engines, 50,000 ammunition waggons, now 55,000 army waggons, I 1,000 field kitchens, I , I 50 field bakeries.

120

125

Elwescebat (line 99) means "He was famous." T h e Bishop gloats because it wasn't a word Cicero, the canon of pure Latin diction, would have used. Such discriminations were beyond Gandolf. Do we learn anything new about the Bishop after, say, line 50? Does the poem develop, or come apart into a series of lurid vignettes? Would it make an effective dramatic reading for a good elocutionist? Reconstructions of the past, however carefully the details are researched, are apt to reveal chiefly the reconstructor. Does Browning expect us to be shocked? moved? amused? enlightened? Does he display unusual insight into character, or merely into the techniques of staging a scene? T h a t his intuitions of the Renaissance-as distinguished from his extensive knowledge about it-were not unlike the conventional ones of a nineteenth-century Englishman, doesn't diminish the interest of this poem as a grotesque muscular fantasy. Epistle to a Patron (page 42) offers useful points of comparison.

What a time that took. Will it be he now? No, Those are the golf club Captains, these the Scouts, And now the socidte' gymnastique de Poissy And now come the Mayor and the Liverymen. Look There he is now, look: There is no interrogation in his eyes Or in the hands, quiet over the horse's neck, And the eyes watchful, waiting, perceiving, indifferent. 0 hidden under the dove's wing, hidden in the turtle's breast, Under the palmtree atnoon, under the running w G r At the still point of the turning world. 0 hidden.

1

B

I

TRIUMPHAL MARCH T. S. Eliot, 1931 Stone, bronze, stone, steel, stone, oakleaves, horses' heels Over the paving.' And the flags. And the trumpets. And so many eagles. How many? Count them. And such a press of people. W e hardly knew ourselves that day, or knew the City. This is the way to the temple, and we so many crowding the way.

205

1

5

Now they go up to the temple. Then the sacrifice. Now come the virgins bearing urns, urns containing Dust Dust Dust of dust, and now Stone, bronze, stone, steel, stone, oakleaves, horses' heels Over the paving. That is all we could see. But how many eagles! and how many trumpets! (And Easter Day, we didn't get to the country,

25

30 ,

206

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

So we took young Cvril to church. And they rang a bell And he said right out loud, crunzpets.) Don't throw away that sausage, It'll come in handy. He's artful. Please, will you Give us a light? Light Light

Verse I1 W e suspect the second man.

50

Verse I11 L i e are worthy of everything that happens. You mean weddings. Naturally I mean weddings.

Et les soldats faisaient la haie? I L S L A F A I S A I E N T . T h e last line means, "And the soldiers were lining the streets? The!. were indeed." Crumpet-men (line 45) ring bells. Young Cyril reprc duces exactly the conditioning of Pavlov's celebrated dogs, which wcic taught to associate bells with food and then salivated when the bell rang. Being human, young Cyril can do more than salivate. Quostions I . Are young Cyril's parents proud of his acuteness? What has his mode of consciousness to do v~iththat of the parade spectators? What is the tone of line lo? Is it meant to convey more to the reader than to the person who speaks it? 2. W h a t is the function of the statistical catalogue in lines 13-23? What difference would it make if Eliot had substituted a brief description of the military equipment going by? Why are the figures SO grotesquely inflated? When you see figures like these in a newspaper do they convey anything real to your mind? W h a t have the newspaper reader and the parade spectator in common? 4. Does line 29 tell us anything certain about the hero's mind? 5. What is the function of lines 37-38? of lines 49-50! 6. What purpose is served by the blending of imperial Rome and modern England?

A PATRIOTIC LEADING

Gertrude Stein, 1928 Verse I Indeed indeed. Can you see. T h c stars. And regularly the precious treasure. What do we love without measure. W e know.

Verse IV And then we are. Hail to the nation. Verse V Do you think we believe it. Verse VI It is that or bust. Verse VII W e cannot bust. Verse VIII Thank you. Verse IX Thank you so much.

"ygUDuh"

E. E. Cummings, I 944

ydoan yunnuhstan ydoan o yunnuhstan dem yguduh ged yunnuhstan dem doidee yguduh ged riduh vdoan o nudn

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Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

am

Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits She could call up to pass a winter evening, But won't, should be burned at the stake or something. Summoning spirits isn't 'Button, button, Who's got the button,' I would have them know.

lid! velluh bas tuds weer goin

SON. Mother can make a common table rear And kick with two legs like an army mule.

LISN bud LISN

MOTHER.

dem

€4

T h e next six poems deal with death and ghosts. This theme, in itself merely sensational, is therefore in itself a literary dead end. It is of no interest to be told that so-and-so is dead. Most of the human race since Adam is dead. Our interest, therefore, focuses immediately on the response of the living who are confronted by this numb fact. Hence in these poems we can detect, with very little interference from the subject matter, the degree of sensibility the poem succeeds in articulating.

THE WITCH OF COOS Robert Frost, 1923

I stayed the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountain, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They did all the talking.

SON. YOU wouldn't want to tell him what we have U p attic, mother?

MOTHER.

Bones-a skeleton.

But the headboard of mother's bed is pushed Against the attic door: the door is nailed. It's harmless. Mother hears it in the night Halting perplexed behind the barrier Of door and headboard. Where it wants to get Is back into the cellar where it came from. SON.

MOTHER.

i

We'll never let them, will we son! We'll never!

SON. It left the cellar forty years ago And carried itself like a pile of dishes U p one flight from the cellar to the kitchen, Another from the kitchen to the bedroom, Another from the bedroom to the attic, Right past both father and mother, and neither stopped it. Father had gone upstairs; mother was downstairs. I was a baby: I don't know where I was. MOTHER.

T h e only fault my husband found with me-

I went to sleep before I went to bed,

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

gud am

Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits She could call up to pass a winter evening, But won't, should be burned at the stake or something. Summoning spirits isn't 'Button, button, Who's got the button,' I would have them know.

lid! velluh bas tuds weer goin

SON. Mother can make a common table rear And kick with two legs like an army mule.

LISN bud LISN

5

MOTHER. And when I've done it, what good have I done? Rather than tip a table for you, let me Tell you what Ralle the Sioux Control once told me. H e said the dead had souls, but when I asked him How could that be-I thought the dead were souls, H e broke my trance. Don't that make you suspicious That there's something the dead are keeping back? Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back.

By now we have encountered a number of instances in which comparison of poems on somewhat related themes has led to a weighing of the implied values brought by the poet to his apprehension of the theme in hand. These values-this sense of detailed and flexible relevant experience-are not to be gleaned from the biography of the poet, or from accounts of those who knew him. They are either in the poem-explicitly or by implication-or for the purposes of a reader of poetry they don't exist. Note that we cannot ascribe moral solidity to poems merely because we happen to agree with their implications. A number of Shakespeare's sonnets on the inconstancy of human affection bear every mark of long meditation on a variety of deeply moving experiences. O n the other hand, a man might write a poem on such a theme out of nothing more than momentary irritation. T h e fact that the roots of his judgment were shallow would infallibly show up in the poem, in its rhythms, in its management of tone and image.

208

209

209

MOTHER.

dem

By now we have encountered a number of instances in which comparison of poems on somewhat related themes has led to a weighing of the implied values brought by the poet to his apprehension of the theme in hand. These values-this sense of detailed and flexible relevant experience-are not to be gleaned from the biography of the poet, or from accounts of those who knew him. They are either ilz the poem-explicitly or by implication-or for the purposes of a reader of poetry they don't exist. Note that we cannot ascribe moral solidity to poems merely because we happen to agree with their implications. A number of Shakespeare's sonnets on the inconstancy of human affection bear every mark of long meditation on a variety of deeply moving experiences. O n the other hand, a man might write a poem on such a theme out of nothing more than momentary irritation. T h e fact that the roots of his judgment were shallow would infallibly show up in the poem, in its rhythms, in its management of tone and image. T h e next six poems deal with death and ghosts. This theme, in itself merely sensational, is therefore in itself a literary dead end. It is of no interest to be told that so-and-so is dead. Most of the human race since Adam is dead. Our interest, therefore, focuses immediately on the response of the living who are confronted by this numb fact. Hence in these poems we can detect, with very little interference from the subject matter, the degree of sensibility the poem succeeds in articulating.

THE WITCH OF COOS Robert Frost, I 923

MOTHER. And when I've done it, what good have I done? Rather than tip a table for you, let me Tell you what Ralle the Sioux Control once told me. H e said the dead had souls, but when I asked him How could that be-I thought the dead were souls, H e broke my trance. Don't that make you suspicious That there's something the dead are keeping back? Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back. SON. YOUwouldn't want to tell him what we have U p attic, mother? MOTHER.

Bones-a skeleton.

SON. But the headboard of mother's bed is pushed Against the attic door: the door is nailed. It's harmless. Mother hears it in the night Halting perplexed behind the barrier Of door and headboard. Where it wants to get Is back into the cellar where it came from.

MOTHER.

We'll never let them, will we son! We'll never!

It left the cellar forty years ago And carried itself like a pile of dishes U p one flight from the cellar to the kitchen, Another from the kitchen to the bedroom, Another from the bedroom to the attic, Right past both father and mother, and neither stopped it. Father had gone upstairs; mother was downstairs. I was a baby: I don't know where I was. SON.

I stayed the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountain, with a mother and son, Two old-believers. They did all the talking.

5

MOTHER.

T h e only fault my husband found with me-

I went to sleep before I went to bed,

30

35

210

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

Especially in winter when the bed Might just as well be ice and the clothes snow. The night the bones came up the cellar-stairs Toffile had gone to bed alone and left me, But left an open door to cool the room off So as to sort of turn me out of it. I was just coming to myself enough T o wonder where the cold was coming from, When I heard Toffile upstairs in the bedroom And thought I heard him downstairs in the cellar. T h e board we had laid down to walk dry-shod on When there was water in the cellar in spring Struck the hard cellar bottom. And then someone Began the stairs, two footsteps for each step, T h e way a man with one leg and a crutch, Or a little child, comes up. It wasn't Toffile: It wasn't anyone who could be there. T h e bulkhead double-doors were double-locked And swollen tight and buried under snow. T h e cellar windows were banked up with sawdust And swollen tight and buried under snow. It was the bones. I knew them-and good reason. My first impulse was to get to the knob And hold the door. But the bones didn't try T h e door; they halted helpless on the landing, Waiting for things to happen in their favor. T h e faintest restless rustling ran all through them. I never could have done the thing I did If the wish hadn't been too strong in me T o see how they were mounted for this walk. I had a vision of them put together Not like a man, but like a chandelier. So suddenly I flung the door wide on him. A moment he stood balancing with emotion, And all but lost himself. (A tongue of fire Flashed out and licked along his upper teeth. Smoke rolled inside the sockets of his eyes.) Then he came at me with one hand outstretched, T h e way he did in life once; but this time I struck the hand off brittle on the floor, And fell back from him on the floor myself. T h e finger-pieces slid in all directions. (Where did I see one of those pieces lately?

21 1

Hand me my button-box-it must be there.)

I sat up on the floor and shouted, 'Toffile,

I

75

80

1

1

It's coming up to you.' It had its choice Of the door to the cellar or the hall. It took the hall door for the novelty, And set off briskly for so slow a thing, Still going every which way in the joints, though, So that it looked like lightning or a scribble, From the slap I had just now given its hand. I listened till it almost climbed the stairs From the hall to the only finished bedroom, Before I got up to do anything; Then ran and shouted, 'Shut the bedroom door, Toffile, for my sake!' 'Company?' he said, 'Don't make me get up; I'm too warm in bed.' So lying forward weakly on the handrail I pushed myself upstairs, and in the light (The kitchen had been dark) I had to own I could see nothing. 'Toffile, I don't see it. It's with us in the room though. It's the bones.' W h a t bones?' 'The cellar bones-out oE the grave.' That made him throw his bare legs out of bed And sit up by me and take hold of me. I wanted to put out the light and see If I could see it, or else mow the room, With our arms at the level of our knees, And bring the chalk-pile down. 'I'll tell you whatIt's looking for another door to try. T h e uncommonly deep snow has made him think Of hi: old song, T h c Wild Colonial Rov, H e always used to sing along the tote road. He's after an open door to get outdoors. Let's trap him with an open door up attic.' Toffile agreed to that, and sure enough, Almost the moment he was given an opening, T h e steps began to climb the attic stairs. I heard them. Toffile didn't seem to hear them. 'Quick!' I slammed to the door and held the knob. Toffile, get nails.' I made him nail the door shut And push the headboard of the bed against it. Then we asked was there anything Up attic that we'd ever want again. T h e attic was less to us than the cellar.

120

212

Discriminations

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

If the bones liked the attic, let them have it. Let them stay in the attic. When they sometimes Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed Behind the door and headboard of the bed, Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers, With sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter, That's what I sit u p in the dark to sayT o no one any more since Toffilc died. Lct them stay in the attic since they went there. I promised Toffile to be cruel to them For helping them be cruel once to him. SON.

' W h o speaks?" "I-once was my speech Sweet as the bird's on the air, W h e n echo lurks by the waters to heed; 'Tis I speak thee fair." "Dark is the hour!" "Ay, and cold." "Lone is my house." "Ah, but mine?" "Sight, touch, lips, eyes yearned in vain." "Long dead these to thine . . ."

W e know they had a grave down in the cellar.

W e never could find out whose bones they were.

MOTHER. Yes, we could too, son. Tell the truth for once. They were a man's his father killed for me. I mean a man he killed instead of me. T h e least I could do was to help dig their grave. W e were about it one night in the cellar. Son knows the story: but 'twas not for him T o tell the truth, suppose the time had come. Son looks surprised to see me end a lie We'd kept all these years between ourselves So as to have it ready for outsiders. But tonight I don't care enough to lieI don't remember why I ever cared. Toffile, if he were here, I don't believe Could tell you why he ever cared himself. .

1918

"Who knocks?" "I, who was beautiful, Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither. And knock on the door."

W e think they had a grave down in the cellar.

MOTHER. WN.

THE GHOST W a l t e r de In 'Mrrrc, 1 7 1 t b .

213

Silence. Still faint on the porch Brake the flames of the stars. I n gloom groped a hope-wearied hand Over keys, bolts, and bars.

140

A face peered. All the grey night I n chaos of vacancy shone; Nought but vast sorrow was thereT h e sweet cheat gone. Questions

Are we meant to hear real voices speaking? If line 30 of The Witch of Coos could be transplanted into this poem, how severely would the poem be disrupted? W h y ? 3. Is line 19 in some sense literally true? 4. W h a t is this poem about? I.

..

2.

She hadn't found the finger-bone she wanted Among the buttons poured out in her lap. I verified the name next morning: Toffile. T h e rural letter box said Toffile Lajway.

I

I THE SELF-UNSEEING

Questions

Thomas Hardy,

W h a t is the function of line 307 2. Is any attempt made to work up a ghostly atmosphere? 3. T h e verse isn't "poetic." W h y is verse used? Do the line endings usually correspond with natural pauses? W h a t effect has this on the convincingncss of the speech rhythms? on the tone?

1901

I.

212

Here is the ancient floor, Footworn and hollowed and thin, Here was the former door Where the dead feet walked in.

Discriminations

Values: 'the Writer's Scale of Judgment

If the bones liked the attic, let them have it. Let them stay in the attic. W h e n they sometimes Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed Behind the door and headboard of the bed, Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers, W i t h sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter, That's what I sit up in the dark to sayT o no one any more since T o g l c died. Lct them stay in the attic since they went there. I promised Toffile to be cruel to them For helping them be cruel once to him. SON.

FON.

THE GHOST W a l t e r ~ i In e Mrrrc, 171117. 1918

"Who knocks?" "I, who was beautiful, Beyond all dreams to restore, I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither. And knock on the door." ' W h o speaks?" "I-once was my speech Sweet as the bird's on the air, When echo lurks by the waters to heed; 'Tis I speak thee fair."

W e think they had a grave down in the cellar.

MOTHER.

"Dark is the hour!" "Ay, and cold." "Lone is my house." "Ah, but mine?" "Sight, touch, lips, eyes yearned in vain." "Long dead these to thine . . ."

W e know they had a grave down in the cellar.

W e never could find out whose bones they were.

MOTHER. Yes, we could too, son. Tell the truth for once. They were a man's his father killed for me. I mean a man he killed instead of me. T h e least I could do was to help dig their grave. W e were about it one night in the cellar. Son knows the story: but 'twas not for him T o tell the truth, suppose the time had come. Son looks surprised to see me end a lie We'd kept all these years between ourselves So as to have it ready for outsiders. But tonight I don't care enough to lieI don't remember why I ever cared. Toffile, if he were here, I don't believe Could tell you why he ever cared himself. .

Silence. Still faint on the porch Brake the flames of the stars. In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand Over keys, bolts, and bars.

140

A face peered. All the grey night I n chaos of vacancy shone; Nought but vast sorrow was thereT h e sweet cheat gone. Questions

..

She hadn't found the finger-bone she wanted Among the buttons poured out in her lap. I verified the name next morning: Toffile. T h e rural letter box said Toffile Lajway.

I

I.

Are we meant to hear real voices speaking?

2.

If line 30 of T h e Witch of Coos could be transplanted into this

poem, how severely would the poem be disrupted? Why? 3. Is line 19 in some sense literally true? 4. What is this poem about?

I THE SELF-UNSEEING

Questions

What is the function of line 307 ISany attempt made to work up a ghostly atmosphere? 3. T h e verse isn't "poetic." W h y is verse used? Do the line endings usually correspond with natural pauses? W h a t effect has this on the convincingncss of the spccch rhythms? on the tone?

Thomas Hardy,

1901

I.

2.

213

Here is the ancient floor, Footworn and hollowed and thin, Here was the former door Where the dead feet walked in.

214

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

She sat here in her chair, Smiling into the fire; H e who played stood there, Bowing it higher and higher.

"AFTER A HUNDRED YEARS" Emily Dickinson, c. I 869

After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.

Childlike, I danced in a dream; Blessings emblazoned that day; Everything glowed with a gleam; Yet we were looking away!

Weeds triumphant ranged, Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone orthography Of the elder dead.

"WITH RUE MY HEART IS LADEN" A. E. Housman, I 896

Winds of summer fields Recollect the way,Instinct picking up the key Dropped by memory.

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

By brooks too broad for leaping

Comparison of this poem with the preceding ones by Housman and Hardy will indicate that Emily Dickinson had glimpsed a nuance of her subject to which their more conventional minds were not attuned. Whether she succeeded in bringing it to full expression is open to doubt.

T h e lightfoot boys are laid; T h e rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade. Regret for real people, or a generalized reflection on the injustices of the universe? Note that Housman gives his lads and maidens only attributes that will die with them. "Golden" might not have appeared in line 2 if Shakespeare had not written the funeral song in C!i
T h e next three poems open up consideration of the distinction between the event, with its implicit private emotion, and the poem, a public fact; the distinction between having a poignant subject and writing a poignant poem; and the difficult? of transforming subject into poem in the absence of a sustaining civilization to provide points of reference amid which the event in question may be located.

i

"STONE, STEEL, DOMINIONS PASS" A. E. Housnzan, pub. 1936

EPITAPH OF THE LADY MARY VILLERS Thomas Care~v,pub. 1640

Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder; So leave alone the grass That I am under.

This little vault, this narrow room, Of Love, and Beauty is the tomb; T h e dawning beam that 'gan to clear Our clouded sky, lies darkened here, For ever set to us, by death Sent to enflame the world beneath;

All lrnots that lovers tie Are tied to sever; Herc shall your sweet-heart lie, Untrue fnr P ~ Y

214

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

She sat here in her chair, Smiling into the fire; H e who played stood there, Bowing it higher and higher.

Weeds triumphant ranged, Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone orthography Of the elder dead. Winds of summer fields Recollect the way,Instinct picking up the key Dropped by memory.

With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipt maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

5

Regret for real people, or a generalized reflection on the injustices of the universe? Note that Housman gives his lads and maidens only attributes that will die with them. "Golden" might not have appeared in line 2 if Shakespeare had not written the funeral song in Cl~mbeli7ze(page 167).

Stone, steel, dominions pass, Faith too, no wonder; So leave alone the grass That I am under. All lrnots that lovers tie Are tied to sever; EIerc shall your sweet-heart lie, Untrue fnr P ~ Y

215

After a hundred years Nobody knows the place,Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.

"WITH RUE MY HEART IS LADEN" A. E. Housman, I 896

"STONE, STEEL, DOMINIONS PASS" A. E. Housnzan, pub. 1936

5

"AFTER A HUNDRED YEARS" Emily Dickinson, c. I 869

Childlike, I danced in a dream; Blessings emblazoned that day; Everything glowed with a gleam; Yet we were looking away!

By brooks too broad for leaping T h e lightfoot boys are laid; T h e rose-lipt girls are sleeping In fields where roses fade.

215

Comparison of this poem with the preceding ones by Housman and Hardy will indicate that Emily Dickinson had glimpsed a nuance of her subject to which their more conventional minds were not attuned. Whether she succeeded in bringing it to full expression is open to doubt.

i

T h e next three poems open up consideration of the distinction between the event, with its implicit private emotion, and the poem, a public fact; the distinction between having a poignant subject and writing a poignant poem; and the difficult? of transforming subject into poem in the absence of a sustaining civilization to provide points of reference amid which the event in question may be located.

EPITAPH OF THE LADY MARY VILLERS Thomas Care~v,pub. 1640

This little vault, this narrow room, Of Love, and Beauty is the tomb; The dawning beam that 'gan to clear Our clouded sky, lies darkened here, For ever set to us, by death Sent to enflame the world beneath;

216

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

T w a s but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall spring again, A budding star that might have grown Into a Sun, when it had blown. This hopeful beauty, did create New life in Love's declining state; But now his Empire ends, and we From fire, and wounding darts are free: His brand, his bow, let no man fear, T h e flames, the arrows, all lie here.

Ye that held me dear beheld me not a twelvemonth long; All the while ye saw me smile, ye knew not whence the song Came that made me smile, and laid me here, and wrought you wrong.

Questions

15

Questions I . What might lead you to think that the poem concerned a child? What would be the force of "little" (line I ) if she were full-grown? What additional poignancy does it acquire since she is not? Can you find other instances in the poem of Carew exploiting the sentiments by which a grown beauty might be lamented? 2. "The world beneath" (line 6) is of course the pagan underworld; the god of Love with his bow and arrows belongs to pagan mythology. For a Christian poet such references have the weight and dignity of a great tradition external to himself. O n the other hand, since they aren't believed in, they lend themselves to playful conceits. Consider how Carew makes use of these possibilities in writing on the death of a child; it is an occasion of great poignancy, but, because the deceased has given no account of herself in the world, of little public weight. w o u l d the hyperbole in line 13 (her death ending the Love-god? empire) be ridiculous applied to an adult? 3. Does "enflame" (line 6) merely prolong the "dawning beam" image of line 3, or change its significance? What happens to these images later in the poem?

A BABY'S EPITAPH

Algernon Charles Swinburne, I 889 April made me: winter laid me here away asleep. Bright as Maytime was my daytime; night is soft and deep: Though the morrow bring forth sorrow, well are ye that weep.

I . If you read stanza 2 so as to bring out the rhymes and obey the rhythm, what happens to the sense? 2. Swinburne's contemporaries would have found this poem more "sincere" than Carew's, because it doesn't drag in mythological references and elaborate figures of speech. What do you think of this judgmen t? 3. Swinburne had quite possibly read more than Carew. Carew, however, lived in an age that made use of reading to form the mind. Swinburne's emotions are in many ways badly cheapened by the very Victorian sentimentality he revolted against. In what way is Lucy Gray (page 129) a less facile poem than this? What have the two in common? Can you find this common factor in anything written before 1 7 ~ 0 7

Lucy Gray illustrates Wordsworth's conviction that moving events made moving poetry if they were simply set down, in language so simple that it would keep out of the reader's way. H e recognized that language frequently does get in the way. However, his sense of the way a civilization keeps in balance the emotions that attach to a moving event was imperfect. H e even supposed that an urban civilization impeded emotion. Such a ballad as The Demon Lover (page 126) came not out of nowhere, but out of a civilization. That is to say, its composer was surrounded by stable and orderly attitudes to events with high emotive potentials, which controlled (not repressed) those emotions. Carew is drawing on a long history of ways of thinking and feeling to present the death of Lady Mary. This history was preserved and kept u p to date by the classical learning of which Carew avails himself. Wordsworth's "A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal" (page 131) uses the balanced, impersonal universe of Sir Isaac Newton as Carew used classical myth, to turn the isolated event into a poem. T h e impersonal universe with its context of natural forces isn't rich enough to sustain a wide range of poetic feeling. Wordsworth wrote a number of memorable poems with its aid, and then notoriously ran dry. H e turned to its aid in the first place because the long tradition of reliance on the classics had ceased to function

Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment

Discriminations

T w a s but a bud, yet did contain More sweetness than shall spring again, A budding star that might have grown Into a Sun, when it had blown. This hopeful beauty, did create New life in Love's declining state; But now his Empire ends, and we From fire, and wounding darts are free: His brand, his bow, let no man fear, T h e flames, the arrows, all lie here. T h e Lady Mary, if scholarship has identified her correctly, died in 1630, aged two and a half. Her parents were Carew's patrons. Questions I . What might lead you to think that the poem concerned a child? What would be the force of "little" (line I ) if she were full-grown? What additional poignancy does it acquire since she is not? Can you find other instances in the poem of Carew exploiting the sentiments by which a grown beauty might be lamented? 2. "The world beneath" (line 6) is of course the pagan underworld; the god of Love with his bow and arrows belongs to pagan mythology. For a Christian poet such references have the weight and dignity of a great tradition external to himself. O n the other hand, since they aren't believed in, they lend themselves to playful conceits. Consider how Carew makes use of these possibilities in writing on the death of a child; it is an occasion of great poignancy, but, because the deceased has given no account of herself in the world, of little p b l i c weight. Would the hyperbole in line 13 (her death ending the Love-god's empire) be ridiculous applied to an adult? 3. Does "enflame" (line 6) merely prolong the "dawning beam" image of line 3, or change its significance? What happens to these images later in the poem?

A BABY'S EPITAPH

Algernon Charles Swinburne, I 889 April made me: winter laid me here away asleep. Bright as Maytime was my daytime; night is soft and deep: Though the morrow bring forth sorrow, well are ye that weep.

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Angels, calling from your brawling world one undefiled, Homeward bade me, and forebade me here to rest beguiled: Here I sleep not: pass, and weep not here upon your child.

T h e Lady Mary, if scholarship has identified her correctly, died in 1630, aged two and a half. Her parents were Carew's patrons.

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Ye that held me dear beheld me not a twelvemonth long; All the while ye saw me smile, ye knew not whence the song Came that made me smile, and laid me here, and wrought you wrong.

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Angels, calling from your brawling world one undefiled, Homeward bade me, and forebade me here to rest beguiled: Here I sleep not: pass, and weep not here upon your child. Questions 1. If you read stanza 2 SO as to bring out the rhymes and obey the rhythm, what happens to the sense? 2. Swinburne's contemporaries would have found this poem more "sincere" than Carew's, because it doesn't drag in mythological references and elaborate figures of speech. What do you think of this judgmen t? 3. Swinburne had quite possibly read more than Carew. Carew, however, lived in an age that made use of reading to form the mind. Swinburne's emotions are in many ways badly cheapened by the very Victorian sentimentality he revolted against. In what way is Lucy Gray (page 129) a less facile poem than this? What have the two in common? Can you find this common factor in anything written before 17407

Lucy Gray illustrates Wordsworth's conviction that moving events made moving poetry if they were simply set down, in language so simple that it would keep out of the reader's way. H e recognized that language frequently does get in the way. However, his sense of the way a civilization keeps in balance the emotions that attach to a moving event was imperfect. H e even supposed that an urban civilization impeded emotion. Such a ballad as The Dewzon Lover 1 2 6 ) came not out of nowhere, but out of a civilization. That is to say, its composer was surrounded by stable and orderly attitudes to events with high emotive potentials, which controlled (not repressed) those emotions. Carew is drawing on a long history of ways of thinking and feeling to present the death of Lady Mary. This history was preserved and kept u p to date by the classical learning of which Carew avails himself. Wordsworth's "A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal" (page 131) uses the balanced, impersonal universe of Sir Isaac Newton as Carew used classical myth, to turn the isolated event into a poem. T h e impersonal universe with its context of natural forces isn't rich enough to sustain a wide range of poetic feeling. Wordsworth wrote a number of memorable poems with its aid, and then notoriously ran dry. H e turned to its aid in the first place because the long tradition of reliance on the classics had ceased to function

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Discriminations

T h e atrophy, in the eighteenth century, of a civilization to which the classics were spiritual bread and butter is possibly the most important event in the Cistory of English literature iince Shakespeare. 1 t is the whole theme of one major poet, Pope, who had the rare mind that can smell death before the thing is dead. Swinburne knew his Greek and Latin but often thought and felt as if he didn't. A Baby's Epitaph is a perfect example of the uncertainty of taste unsustained by a living tradition.

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EPITAPH O N ELIZABETH, L. H. Ben Jonson, pub. I 6 16

Wouldst thou hear what man can say In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die; Which in life did harbour give T o more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth; T h e other, let it sleep with death: Fitter, where it died, to tell, Than that it lived at all. Farewell!

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Poise

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Questions I . Is what is said "in a little" the sixty short words that follow the opening couplet, or the child's body, or both? 2. Does all beauty die? Does that of Jonson's verse? 3. W h a t does line 6 mean? 4. Does Jonson realize that his panegyric may sound extravagant? W h a t does he do about it? 5. Only the child's Christian name appears; her family name had implications of character, position, and so on, which she didn't live long enough to realize. If "it" in line 1 1 refers to the family name, what perspective on worldly position is implied? 6. Does Carew's poem seem overwrought beside this? 7. Is the theme of Swinburne's poem contained in this one? If so, is it balanced by other themes?

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T h e quality of the civilization that surrounds a poet won't stabilize his presentation of his subject unless he manages to incorporate its resources into his poem. If you look back at T. S. Eliot's Triumphal March and Gertrude Stein's A Patriotic Leading (pages 204-206) you will see that these two poets, contemporaries of each other, differ markedly in the degree to which they avail themselves of what the civilization that surrounds them makes available. The one poem is in touch with its age at more points than the other. Gertrude Stein measures what she sets before us against our sense of " the ludicrous, and against our distaste for high-octane slogans, and that is all. A civilization may be defined as a milieu that offers the possibility of multiple points of view on a single event, that does not urgently press us to deal with everything from the same angle. Poems differ in the extent to which they incorporate these possibilities, as the next two poems show.

SIMPLEX MUNDlTllS Ben Jonson, I 609

Still to be neat, still to be dressed, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed,

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Discriminations

4. Is the emotion in Herrick's poem of a more obvious kind than in Jonson's? Is he being titillated by his own responses? Which poem do you prefer? Why?

Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me T h a n all the adulteries of art; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

I N THE DAYS OF PRISMATIC COLOUR 10

What would you say to a person who called this poem an attack on art and a praise of unruled nature?

DELIGHT I N DISORDER

Robert Herrick, pub. 1648 A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness: A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction : An erring lace, which here and there Enthralls the crimson stomacher: A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbands to flow confusedly : A winning wave (deserving note) In the tempestuous petticoat: A careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild civility : Do more bewitch me, than when art Is too precise in every part. Questions I . Both Herrick and Jonson follow the thought of an anonymous Latin poem. Whose language is the "richer"? 2. Does the rwaning of Herrick's verbs concerning clothes (kindle, enthrall) spill over into Herrick's emotions? Compare the impersonality of Jonson's verbs of response: sweet neglect "taketh" him and "strikes his heart." H e perceives the contrasted ladies with equal coolness, first disapproving and then approving. I-Ierrick is "bewitched." 3. Does the dress of the lady in Herrick's poem implv her character? Consider "sweet," "wanton," "erring," "winning," "tempestuous," "careless," and so on; on the other hand, the coldness of "precise" (line 14).

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Marianne Moore, pub. 1921 not in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam was alone; when there was no smoke and colour was fine, not with the refinement of early civilization art, but because of its originality; with nothing to modify it but the mist that went up, obliqueness was a variation of the perpendicular, plain to see and to account for: it is no longer that; nor did the blue-red-yellow band of incandescence that was colour keep its stripe: it also is one of

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those things into which much that is peculiar can be read; complexity is not a crime, but carry it to the point of murkiness and nothing is plain. Complexity, moreover, that has been committed to darkness, instead of granting it-

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self to be the pestilence that it is, moves all about as if to bewilder us with the dismal fallacy that insistence is the measure of achievement and that all truth must be dark. Principally throat, sophistication is as it always has been-at the antipodes from the initial great truths. 'Part of it was crawling, part of it was about to crawl, the rest was torpid in its lair.' In the short-legged, fitful advance, the gurgling and all the minutiae-we classic

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multitude of feet. T o what purpose! Truth is no Apollo Belvedere. no formal thing. T h e wave may go over it if it likes.

Poise

Discriminations

Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. What would you say to a person who called this poem an attack on art and a praise of unruled nature?

DELIGHT IN DISORDER

Robert Herrick, pub. 1648

A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in clothes a wantonness: A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction : An erring lace, which here and there Enthralls the crimson stomacher: A cuff neglectful, and thereby Ribbands to flow confusedly: A winning wave (deserving note) In the tempestuous petticoat: A careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild civility : Do more bewitch me, than when art Is too precise in every part. Questions I. Both Herrick and Jonson follow the thought of an anonymous Latin poem. Whose language is the "richer"? 2. Does the rwaning of Herrick's verbs concerning clothes (kindle, enthrall) spill over into Herrick's emotions? Compare the impersonality of Jonson's verbs of response: sweet neglect "taketh" him and "strikes his heart." H e perceives the contrasted ladies with equal coolness, first disapproving and then approving. Herrick is "bewitched." 3. Does the dress of the lady in Herrick's poem implv her character? ,, Consider "sweet," "wanton," "erring, winning," "tempestuous," "careless," and so on; on the other hand, the coldness of "precise" (line x4). 'I

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4. Is the emotion in Herrick's poem of a more obvious kind than in Jonson's? Is he being titillated by his own responses? Which poem do you prefer? Why?

I N THE DAYS OF PRISMATIC COLOUR

Marianne Moore, pub. 1921 not in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam was alone; when there was no smoke and colour was fine, not with the refinement of early civilization art, but because of its originality; with nothing to modify it but the mist that went up, obliqueness was a variation of the perpendicular, plain to see and to account for: it is no longer that; nor did the blue-red-yellow band of incandescence that was colour keep its stripe: it also is one of those things into which much that is peculiar can be read; complexity is not a crime, but carry it to the point of murkiness and nothing is plain. Complexity, moreover, that has been committed to darkness, instead of granting itself to be the pestilence that it is, moves all about as if to bewilder us with the dismal fallacy that insistence is the measure of achievement and that all truth must be dark. Principally throat, sophistication is as it always has been-at the antipodes from the initial great truths. 'Part of it was crawling, part of it was about to crawl, the rest was torpid in its lair.' In the short-legged, fitful advance, the gurgling and all the minutiae-we classic

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multitude of feet. T o what purpose! Truth is no Apollo Belvedere. no formal thing. T h e wave may go over it if it likes.

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Discriminations

Poise

O n thee, on thee: thou art the book, T h e library whereon I look Though almost blind. For thee (lov'd clay) I languish out not live the day, Using no other exercise But what I practise with mine eyes: By which wet glasses I find out How lazily time creeps about T o one that mourns; this, only this MJ7 exercise and bus'ness is: So I compute the weary hours With sighs dissolved into showers.

Know that it will be there when it says, 'I shall be there when the wave has gone by.' MUSEE DES BEAUX ARTS

W. H. Auden, 1940 About suffering they were never wrong, T h e Old Masters: how well they understood Its human position; how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there must always be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

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In Breughel's Icarus for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on. THE EXEQUY

Henry King, 1657 Accept thou Shrine of my dead Saint, Instead of Dirges this complaint; And for sweet flowers to crown thy hearse, Receive a strew of weeping verse From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see Quite melted into tears for thee. Dear loss! since thy untimely fate

Mv task hath been to meditate

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Nor wonder if my time go thus Backward and most preposterous; Thou hast benighted me, thy set This Eve of blackness did beget, W h o wast my day, (though overcast Before thou had'st thy Noon-tide past) And I remember must in tears, Thou scarce had'st seen so many years As Day tells hours. By thy clear Sun My love and fortune first did run; But thou wilt never more appear Folded within my Hemisphere, Since both thy light and motion Like a fled Star is fall'n and gone, And twixt ine and m y sn111'sdear wish T h e earth now interposed is, Which such a strange eclipse doth make As ne'er was read in Almanac.

I could allow thee for a time T o darken me and my sad Clime, Were it a month, a year, or ten, I would thy exile live till then; And all that space my mirth adjourn, So thou wouldst promise to return; And putting off thy ashy shroud At length disperse this sorrow's cloud. But woe is me! the longest date Too narrow is to calculate 29. tells: count.

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Wscriminations

It so much loves; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy Tomb. Stay for me there; I will not fail T o meet thee in that hollow Vale. And think not much of my delay; I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree, And ev'ry hour a step towards thee. At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer my West Of life, almost by eight hours' sail Than when sleep breath'd his drowsy gale

These empty hopes: never shall I Be so much blest as to descry A glimpse of thee, till that day come Which shall the earth to cinders doom, And a fierce Fever must calcine T h c body of this world like thine, (My little World!); that fit of fire Once off, our bodies shall aspire T o our souls' bliss: then we shall rise, And view our selves with clearer eyes In that calm Region, where no night Can hide us from each other's sight. Mean time, thou hast her, Earth; much good May my harm do thee. Since it stood With Heaven's will I might not call Her longer mine, I give thee all My short-liv'd right and interest In her, whom living I lov'd best: With a most free and bounteous grief, I give thee what I could not keep. Be kind to her, and prithee look Thou write into thy Doomsday book Each parcel of this Rarity Which in thy Casket shrin'd doth lie: See that thou make thy reckoning straight, And yield her back again by weight; For thou must audit on thy trust Each grain and atom of this dust, As thou wilt answer Him that lent, Not gave thee my dear Monument.

T h u s from the Sun my Bottom steers, And my day's Compass downward bears: Nor labour I to stem the tide Through which to Thee I swiftly glide. 'Tis true, with shame and grief I yield, Thou like the Van first took'st the field, And gotten hast the victory In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. But hark! My Pulse like a soft Drum Beats my approach, tells Thee I come; And slow howe'er my marches be, I shall at last sit down by Thee. T h e thought of this bids me go on, And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive T h e crime) I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part.

So close the ground, and 'bout her shade Black curtains draw, my Bride is laid. Sleep on my Love, in thy cold bed Never to be disquieted! My last good night! Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust 7 I . parcel: portion.

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bottom: hull, ship. sit down: encamp.

She is a Saint, a Book, a Sun, a World; in lines 39-46 the sunset image acquires overtones of Proserpine's fate. T h e Domesday Rook (line 73) was \T7illiam the Conqueror's inventory of the resources of England after his usurpation. In lines 73-78 she is gold dust deposited

Poise

Wscriminations

Mean time, thou hast her, Earth; much good May my harm do thee. Since it stood With Heaven's will I might not call Her longer mine, I give thee all My short-liv'd right and interest In her, whom living I lov'd best: With a most free and bounteous grief, I give thee what I could not keep. Be kind to her, and prithee look Thou write into thy Doomsday book Each parcel of this Rarity Which in thy Casket shrin'd doth lie: See that thou make thy reckoning straight, And yield her back again by weight; For thou must audit on thy trust Each grain and atom of this dust, As thou wilt answer Him that lent, Not gave thee my dear Monument.

T h u s from the Sun my Bottom steers, And my day's Compass downward bears: Nor labour I to stem the tide Through which to Thee I swiftly glide. 'Tis true, with shame and grief I yield, Thou like the Van first took'st the field, And gotten hast the victory In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. But hark! My Pulse like a soft Drum Beats my approach, tells Thee I come; And slow howe'er my marches be, I shall at last sit down by Thee. T h e thought of this bids me go on, And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive T h e crime) I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part.

So close the ground, and 'bout her shade Black curtains draw, my Bride is laid.

7 I . parcel: portion.

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It so much loves; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy Tomb. Stay for me there; I will not fail T o meet thee in that hollow Vale. And think not much of my delay; I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree, And ev'ry hour a step towards thee. At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer my West Of life, almost by eight hours' sail T h a n when sleep breath'd his drowsy gale

These empty hopes: never shall I Be so much blest as to descry A glimpse of thee, till that day come Which shall the earth to cinders doom, And a fierce Fever must calcine T h c body of this world like thine, (My little World!); that fit of fire Once off, our bodies shall aspire T o our souls' bliss: then we shall rise, And view our selves with clearer eyes In that calm Region, where no night Can hide us from each other's sight.

Sleep on my Love, in thy cold bed Never to be disquieted! My last good night! Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust

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bottom: hull, ship. sit down: encamp.

She is a Saint, a Book, a Sun, a World; in lines 39-46 the sunset image acquires overtones of Proserpine's fate. T h e Domesday Rook (line 73) was \T7illiam the Conqueror's inventory of the resources of England after his usurpation. In lines 73-78 she is gold dust deposited

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with Earth the banker. Subsequently she is a bride, and in the final sections of the poem he approaches her like a mariner and like an army. Questions I . What is the tone of lines I-4? W h y are these lines addressed to the "shrineJ' instead of to her? W h y "Shrine of my dead Saint'' instead of "body of my dead wife"? ("Complaint" is a technical term for a piece of pathetic writing, not just an aggrieved outcry.) 2. Do lines 7-20 fish for pity? 3. In line 58 King writes "our selves," not "ourselves." W h a t does he mean? 4. W h a t is the tone of lines 61-68? 5. At what point does the tone become personal and poignant? One would expect the poem to begin with this tone and then work away from it. W h a t is achieved by introducing it so late? 6. Does "earth" (line 36) mean more than one thing? does "minute" (line 95)? 7. W h y are the last six lines free from metaphor?

A N ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD Thomas Gray, 1750

T h e Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day, T h e lowing Herd winds slowly o'er the Lea, T h e Plow-man homeward plods his weary Way, And leaves the World to Darkness, and to me. Now fades the glimmering Landscape on the Sight, And all the Air a solemn Stillness holds; Save where the Beetle wheels his droning Flight, And drowsy Tinklings lull the distant Folds. Save that from yonder Ivy-mantled Tow'r T h e mopeing Owl does to the Moon complain Of such as, wand'ring near her secret Bow'r, Molest her ancient solitary Reign. Beneath those ruqycd Elms, that Y ? I ~ Tre~a's . Shsde, Where heaves the Turf in many a mould'ring Heap, Each in his narrow Cell for ever laid, T h e rude Forefathers of the Hamlet sleep. T h e breezy Call of Incense-brea thing Morn, T h e Swallow twitt'ring from the Straw-built Shed, T h e Cock's shrill Clarion, or the ecchoing Horn, N o more shall rouse them from their lowly Bed.

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For them no more the blazing Hearth shall burn, Or busy Housewife ply her Evening Care: NOChildren run to lisp their Sire's Return, Or climb his Knees the envied Kiss to share. Oft did the Harvest to their Sickle yield, Their Furrow oft the stubborn Glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their Team afield! How bow'd the Woods beneath their sturdy Stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful Toil, Their homely Joys and Destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful Smile, T h e short and simple Annals of the Poor. T h e Boast of Heraldry, the Pomp of Pow'r, And all that Beauty, all that Wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th'inevitable Hour. T h e Paths of Glory lead but to the Grave. Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the Fault, If A4em'ry o'er their Tomb no Trophies raise, Where thro' the long-drawn Isle and fretted Vault T h e pealing Anthem swells the Note of Praise. Can storied Urn or animated Bust Back to its Mansion call the fleeting Breath? Can Honour's Voice the silent Dust, Or Flattry sooth the dull cold Ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected Spot is laid Some Heart once pregnant with celestial Fire, Hands that the Rod of Empire might have sway'd, Or wak'd to Extacy the living Lyre. But Knowledge to their Eyes her ample Page Rich with the Spoils of Time did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble Rage And froze the genial Current of the Soul. Full many a Gem of purest Ray serene, T h e dark unfathom'd Caves of Ocean bear: Full many a Flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its Sweetness on the desart Air. Some Village-Hampden that with dauntless Breast T h e little Tyrant of his Fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Crotnwell guiltless of his Country's Blood. 39. isle: aisle.

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Th'Applause of list'ning Senates to command, T h e Threats of Pain and Ruin to despise, T o scatter Plenty o'er a smiling Land, And read their Hist'ry in a Nation's Eyes Their Lot forbad: nor circumscrib'd alone Their growing Virtues, but their Crimes confin'd; Forbad to wade through Slaughter to a Throne, And shut the Gates of Mercy on Mankind, T h e struggling Pangs of conscious Truth to hide, T o quench the Blushes of ingenuous Shame, Or heap the Shrine of Luxury and Pride With Incense, kindled at the Muse's Flame. Far from the madding Crowd's ignoble Strife, Their sober Wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd Vale of Life They kept the noiseless Tenor of their Way. Yet ev'n these Bones from Insult to protect Some frail Memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth Rhimes and shapeless Sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing Tribute of a Sigh. Their Name, their Years, spelt by th'unletter'd Muse, T h e place of Fame and Elegy supply: And many a holy Text around she strews, T h a t teach the rustic Moralist to dye. For who to dumb Forgetfulness a Prey, This pleasing anxious Being e'er resigned, Left the warm Precincts of the chearful Day, Nor cast one longing ling'ring Look behind? O n some fond Breast the parting Soul relies, Some pious Drops the closing Eye requires; Ev'n from the Tomb the Voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires. For thee, who mindful of th'unhonoured Dead Dost in these lines their artless Tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred Spirit shall inquire thy Fate, Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say, 'Oft have we seen him at the Peep of Dawn 'Brushing with hasty Steps the Dews away 'To meet the Sun upon the upland Lawn. 'There at the Foot of yonder nodding Beech T h a t wreathes its old fantastic Roots so high,

Poise

'His listless Length at Noontide wou'd he stretch, 'And pore upon the Brook that babbles by. 'Hard by yon Wood, now smiling as in Scorn, 'Mutt'ring his wayward Fancies he wou'd rove, 'Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, 'Or craz'rl with Care, or cross'd in hopeless Love. 'One Morn I miss'd him on the custom'd Hill, 'Along the Heath, and near his fav'rite Tree; 'Another came; nor yet beside the Rill, 'Nor up the Lawn, nor at the Wood was he. 'The next with Dirges due in sad Array 'Slow thro' the Church-way Path we saw him born. 'Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the Lay, 'Grav'd on the Stone beneath yon aged Thorn.' (There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the Year, By Hands unseen, are Show'rs of Violets found: T h e Red-breast loves to bill and warble there, And little Footsteps lightly print the Ground.)

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80 T H E EPITAPH

Here rests his Head upon the Lap of Earth A Y o u t h to Fortune and to Fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not o n his humble Birth, A n d Melancholy mark'd h i m for her own. Large was his Bounty, and his Soul sincere, Heav'n did a Recompence as largely send: H e gave to Mis'ry all he head, a Tear: H e gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all h e wish'd) a Friend. N o farther seek his Merits to disclose, O r draw his Frailties from their dread Abode, ( T h e r e they alike i n trembling Hope repose) T h e Bosom of his Father and his God.

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Science: systematic knowledge.

I n view of the systematic capitalization and the care with which the sentences are fitted into the stanzas, do you think the title is meant to be taken literally? O r is it part of the fiction Gray is creating? W h a t other details in the first twelve lines are frankly arranged and simplified? Are the Beetle, the Owl, and so on, to be thought of as phenomena noted in a particular churchyard on a specific occasion?

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Discriminations

Every noun is capitalized. What effect has this on the degree of generality at which Gray is aiming? T h e capitalization of nouns, still mandatory in modern German, was a printers' custom in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but a custom somewhat haphazardly observed. It lent an air of naturalness to the eighteenth-century habit of generalization and unobtrusive personification. "Ambition" (line 29) is a little more than an abstract noun: it governs an active verb. Are we meant to visualize it? In this poem the unusual care with details of printing and punctuation marks Gray as belonging to the first generation to expend pains on the way the poem looks on the printed page. Printing is no longer simply a guide to oral recitation; the poem is conceived as being in a book, and meant to be looked at. The title draws attention to the fact that we have before us a piece of writing, not a transcription of what somebody is supposed to have said or thought. Milton's I1 Penseroso, another meditation-piece written about 120 years before Gray's Elegl~,begins "Hence, vain deluding Joys"; its convention is of a man speaking; the poem is meant to sound improvised. Are any of Gray's meditations especially new? Is there any pretense that they are? Is this the improvisation of a specific occasion? O r a longmeditated compendium of reliable sentiments? How often does he return from his reflections to the churchyard locale? What is the effect secured by these returns? What are "these lines" (line 94)? T h e village inscription of line 79, or the poem before us? Is the distinction between them meant to be inexact? Note that the "mute inglorious Milton" of line 59 doesn't die wholly frustrated; beginning at line 98, he or someone like him turns into a pastoral poet, whose death is formally lamented, and who has a more satisfactory interment than Edwaid King had in Milton's Lycidas (page 291 1. What quality in this poem has caused so much of it to enter the world's stock of familiar quotations? THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY Jonathan Swift, 1719

When first Diana leaves her bed Vapors and Steams her Looks disgrace, A frouzy dirty colour'd red Sits on her cloudy wrinckled Face. I.

Diana: the moon-goddess.

Poise

But by degrees when mounted high Her artificial1 Face appears Down from her Window in the Sky, Her Spots are gone, her Visage clears. 'Twixt earthly Femals and the Moon All Parallells exactly run; If Celia should appear too soon Alas, the Nymph would be undone. T o see her from her Pillow rise All reeking in a cloudy Steam, Crackt Lips, foul Teeth, and gummy Eyes, Poor Strephon, how would he blaspheme!

1

T h e Soot or Powder which was wont T o make her Hair look black as Jet, Falls from her Tresses on her Front A mingled Mass of Dirt and Sweat.

I

Three Colours, Black, and Red, and White, So graceful1 in their proper Place, Remove them to a diff'rent Light, They form a frightful1 hideous Face. For instance; when the Lilly slipps Into the Precincts of the Rose, And takes Possession of the Lips, Leaving the Purple to the Nose. So Celia went entire to bed, All her Complexions safe and sound, But when she rose, the black and red Though still in Sight, had chang'd their Ground. T h e Black, which would not be confin'd A more inferior Station seeks Leaving the fiery red behind, And mingles in her muddy Cheeks. T h e Paint by Perspiration cracks, And falls in Rivulets of Sweat, O n either Side you see the Tracks, While at her Chin the Conflu'ents met.

231

5

232

Discriminations

A Skillful1 Housewife thus her Thumb With Spittle while she spins, anoints, And thus the brown Meanders come In trickling Streams betwixt her Joints.

But, Art no longer can prevayl When the Materialls all are gone, T h e best Mechanick Hand must fayl Where Nothing's left to work upon.

But Celia can with ease reduce By help of Pencil, Paint and Brush Each Colour to it's Place and Use, And teach her Cheeks again to blush.

Matter, as wise Logicians say, Cannot without a Form subsist, And Form, say I, as well as They, Must fayl if Matter brings no Grist.

She knows her Early self no more, But fill'd with Admiration, stands, As Other Painters oft adore T h e Workmanship of their own Hands. Thus after four important Hours Celia's the Wonder of her Sex; Say, which among the Heav'nl~Pow'rs Could cause such wonderful1 Effects. Venus, indulgent to her Kind Gave Women all their Hearts could wish When first she taught them where to find White Lead, and Lusitanian Dish. Love with White lead cements his Wings, White lead was sent us to repair Two brightest, brittlest earthly Things A Lady's Face, and China ware. She ventures now to lift the Sash, T h e Window is her proper Sphear; Ah Lovely Nymph be not too rash, Nor let the Beaux approach too near. Take Pattern by your Sister Star, Delude at once and Bless our Sight, When you are seen, be seen from far, And chiefly chuse to shine by Night. In the Pell-mell when passing by, Keep up the Glasses of your Chair, Then each transported Fop will cry, G-d d-m me Jack, she's wondrous fair.

232

But, let the Cause be what it will, In half a Month she looks so thin That Flamstead can with all his Skill See but her Forehead and her Chin. Yet as she wasts, she grows discreet, Till Midnight never shows her Head; So rotting Celia strolls the Street When sober Folks are all a-bed. For sure if this be Luna's Fate, Poor Celia, but of mortall race In vain expects a longer Date T o the Materialls of her Face. 89. Partridge: an astrologer. 9 3 . Gadbury: an astrologer. 99. Flumstead: celebrated astronomer. l o g . Luna: the moon.

But Celia can with ease reduce By help of Pencil, Paint and Brush Each Colour to it's Place and Use, And teach her Cheeks again to blush.

Matter, as wise Logicians say, Cannot without a Form subsist, And Form, say I, as well as They, Must fayl if Matter brings no Grist.

Love with White lead cements his Wings, White lead was sent us to repair Two brightest, brittlest earthly Things A Lady's Face, and China ware. She ventures now to lift the Sash, T h e Window is her proper Sphear; Ah Lovely Nymph be not too rash, Nor let the Beaux approach too near. Take Pattern by your Sister Star, Delude at once and Bless our Sight, When you are seen, be seen from far, And chiefly chuse to shine by Night. In the Pell-mell when passing by, Keep up the Glasses of your Chair, Then each transported Fop will cry, G-d d-m me Jack, she's wondrous fair.

233

But Gadbury in Art profound From her pale Cheeks pretends to show That Swain Endymion is not sound, Or else, that Mercury's her Foe.

But, Art no longer can prevayl When the Materialls all are gone, T h e best Mechanick Hand must fayl Where Nothing's left to work upon.

Venus, indulgent to her Kind Gave Women all their Hearts could wish When first she taught them where to find White Lead, and Lusitanian Dish.

Poise

While Partridge wisely shews the Cause Efficient of the Moon's Decay, That Cancer with his pois'nous Claws Attacks her in the milky Way:

A Skillful1 Housewife thus her Thumb With Spittle while she spins, anoints, And thus the brown Meanders come In trickling Streams betwixt her Joints.

T h u s after four important Hours Celia's the Wonder of her Sex; Say, which among the Heav'nl~Pow'rs Could cause such wonderful1 Effects.

233

And this is fair Diana's Case For, all Astrologers maintain Each Night a Bit drops off her Face When Mortals say she's in her Wain.

Discriminations

She knows her Early self no more, But fill'd with Admiration, stands, As Other Painters oft adore T h e Workmanship of their own Hands.

Poise

And this is fair Diana's Case For, all Astrologers maintain Each Night a Bit drops off her Face When Mortals say she's in her Wain. While Partridge wisely shews the Cause Efficient of the Moon's Decay, That Cancer with his pois'nous Claws Attacks her in the milky Way : But Gadbury in Art profound From her pale Cheeks pretends to show That Swain Endymion is not sound, Or else, that Mercury's her Foe. But, let the Cause be what it will, In half a Month she looks so thin That Flamstead can with all his Skill See but her Forehead and her Chin. Yet as she wasts, she grows discreet, Till Midnight never shows her Head; So rotting Celia strolls the Street When sober Folks are all a-bed. For sure if this be Luna's Fate, Poor Celia, but of mortall race In vain expects a longer Date T o the Materialls of her Face. 89. Partridge: an astrologer. 9 3 . Gadbury: an astrologer. 99. Flumstead: celebrated astronomer. l o g . Luna: the moon.

80

234

Discriminations

When Mercury her Tresses mows T o think of Oyl and Soot, is vain, N o Painting can restore a Nose, Nor will her Teeth return again. T w o Balls of Glass may serve for Eyes, White Lead can plaister u p a Cleft, But these alas, are poor Supplyes If neither Cheeks, nor Lips be left. Ye Pow'rs who over Love preside, Since mortal Beautyes drop so soon, If you would have us well supply'd, Send us new nymphs with each new Moon.

-mnrm

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

120

T h e moon and ladies have often been compared, especially because Diana, the moon-goddess, was the personification of remote chastity. T h e moon's concern astrologers (lincs 85-96) who suppl~lsymbolic explanations, and astronomers (lines 99-100) who simply observe facts. Swift employs both methods. Cancer (line 91) is both a constellation and a disease; Mercury (line 96) is both a planet and a remedy for venereal disease, presumably contracted from the swain who is "not sound" (line 95). Endymion (line 95) was the mythological lover of the moon-goddess. W h i t e lead (lines 61-64) is both a pigment and a china cement. Like mercury, it is a cumulative poison. If yqu came upon lines 67-68 in isolation from the rest of the poem, what would you suppose they meant? What is the tone of lines 69-72? of lines 53-56? of lines 57-60? How much of the poem is occupied by the remorselessly "unpleasant" passages? Is their tone affected by the fact that elsewhere in the poem there is such variety of tone?

TO CELlA Vivamus mea Lesbia atque amemus

Ben Jonson, c. I 605 Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love. Time will not be ours for ever; He, at length, our good will sever. Spend not then his gifts in vain: Suns that set may rise again But if once we lose this light, 'Tis with us perpetual night. Why should we dcfer our jo;.s? Fame and rumour are but toys. Cannot we delude the eyes Of a few poor household spies? Or his easier eares beguile, Thus removcd by our wile? 'Tis no sin love's fruits to steal, But the sweet thefts to reveal; T o be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been.

Swift's presentation, in this poem, of the unsatisfactoriness of humanity's subservience to time and change is carried on in general terms. T h e poems in the next group approach the same theme by concentration on a particular pair of lovers.

Determine the exact meaning of "prove" (line is "this light" (line 7)? Is it sunlight?

I),

and "toys" (line

1 0 ) . What

235

236

Discriminations

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

T h e scope of treatment of "Time" (lines 3-8) is very wide. It is first an ally, then the bearer of fatal shears, then the giver of wealth to be wisely spent, then astronomical time marked by recurring suns, then two people's allotted span. Examine the domestic diction Jonson poises against this large theme. tIow do the two kinds of diction reinforce the theme of recurring suns vs. human brevity?

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum, Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum, Deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum, Dein, cum milia multa fecerimus, Conturbabimus illa, ne sciamus, Aut ne quis malus invidere possit, Cum tantum sciat esse basiorum.

VIVAMUS MEA LESBIA ATQLIE AMEMUS

Thomas Cavzpion,

237

More or less literally,

I 601

"Let us live, my Lesbia," and let us make love, And all the whispers of censorious elders Let us value at a single penny. Suns can set and return again; For us, when once our brief light goes out, There is one perpetual night to be slept through. Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, Then another thousand, another hundred, A thousand yet again, and then a hundred; Then, when we have scored many thousands, Let us confuse them thoroughly, so we won't know, Or so no ill-wisher can cast an evil eye on us, Knowing that we exchanged so many kisses.

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love; And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive; But, soon as once is set our little light, Then must we sleep one ever-during night.

If all would lead their lives in love like me, Then bloody swords and armour should not be; No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move, Unless alarm came from the camp of Love. But fools do live and waste their little light, And seek with pain their ever-during night. When timely death my life and fortunes ends, Let not my hearse be vext with mourning friends; But let all lovers rich in triumph come, And with sweet pastime grace my happy tomb. And, Lesbia, close up thou my little light, And crown with love my ever-during night.

15

I I

Campion1s point of departure is the same as Jonson's: the Vivamus, B.c.), one of the most famous of Latin lyrics and a natural point of focus for the Renaissance preoccupation with devouring Time:

mea Lesbiu of Catullus (84-54

Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus, Rumoresque senum severiorum Omnes unius aestimemus assis. Soles occidere et redire possunt: Nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux, Nox est perpetua una dormienda.

5

5

10

T h e point of the last three lines depends on the ancient superstition about exact numbers; if you reckon your blessings exactly, you invite disaster; and the power of the evil eye is fortified by a knowledge of exact figures. That this point is lost in an English poem is perhaps one reason why neither Campion nor Jonson tackles the second half of Catullus's lyric. Their object in any case is not to provide a substitute for the Latin; they can assume that their audience knows Catullus, and use him as a theme for variations. Compare Campion1s lines 1-6 with Jonson's lines 1-8. Which can you more easily imagine being spoken? Consider the habit of mind represented by phrases like "the sagzr sort" (line 2) and "heaven's great lamps" (line 3). Can one imagine anyone using such words? Do the images implied by "dive" and "revive" sharpen what Campion is saying, or are they merely rhymes? How vividly is Campion imagining the speaker and his emotions? Jonson stays within Catullus's first six lines; Campion attempts to hitch them to a larger theme. By stanza 2 he is writing decorous lines on a theme; he has abandoned any dramatic pretense of speaking to the lady. W h y is death "timely" (line 13)? Because a word is needed to fill out

Love and Time: Twelve Poems 238

the line? Is it a blank word? Does the facility with which it drops into place suggest that Campion's interests weren't particularly engaged with the emotions of lines 5-6? What does line 17 mean? Shut my eyes? Does the last line mean anything in particular? How many words in the first stanza contribute nothing' to the presentation of the matter? How many are positive drags upon it? Campion's poem is a literary exercise; Jonson's none :he less real for being in part a translation. T h e distinction between poets who draw on books and poets who draw on "life" is less simple than is sometimes assumed. There are many ways of using books. What docs Jonson's debt to Catullus consist of? Jonson has log words, Catullus but 66, and Jonson used only the first six lines of Catullus. Partly this reflects the fact that English won't compress like Latin, which can juxtapose "omnes" and "unius," "lux" and "nox," and convey complex meanings in single words like "dormienda" and "conturbabimus." Partly it reflects Jonson's intention of conferring on Catullus's hardness an ease that has its own pathos. If you try to stick close to Catullus's words and effects you get the kind of iriflation represented by Campion's first stanza. Why?

. . ."

"VIVAMUS, MEA LESBIA

Frank 0. Copley, 1957

I said to her, darling, I said let's LIVE and let's LOVE and what do we care what those old purveyors of joylessness say? (they can go to hell, all of them) the Sun dies every night in the morning he's there again you and I, now, whcn our briefly tiny light flicks out, it's night for us, one single evcrlasting Night. give me a kiss, a hundred a thousand kisses, a fifty cleven seven hundred thousand kisses, and let's do it all over again Darling how many, how many, you say?

mix them up; it's bad luck to know how many; wouldn't want people to count, them, up sorncbody might have the Evil Eye and if he knew he just might BEWITCH them.

20

25

W e learn from the first line of Professor Copley's version that he has chosen to transpose the entire poem from direct speech to speech rccollected. rccollccted perhaps under different circumstances and for a diffcrent audience. W h y do you think he has done this? Do you detect any uneasi:less or embarrassment in the tone of the poem? any bravado? Is there something about this twentieth-century idiom that is incompatible with unembarrassed passion? W h y the capitalized emphases in lines 2 and 3? Are they meant to compensate for some inadequacy of language? This version makes the speech to the girl an intensely private and personal utterance. Does Jonson's? In the twentieth century, do we suppose that eloquence and intense private utterance are somehow incompatible? If so, why? Have we the same trust in the adequacy of language for personal purposes that a membcr of Jonson's civilization had? Stumbling speech is itself a sort of compliment. "I can't put this well, but you know me well enough to understand." There have been civilizations which would not have prized a compliment paid in this mode. TO HIS COY MISTRESS

Andrew Marvell, c. 1646

5

10

15

Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. W e would sit down, and think which way T o walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;

Love and Time: Twelve Poems 238

239

Discriminations

the line? Is it a blank word? Does the facility with which it drops into $ace suggest that Campion's interests weren't particularly engaged with the emotions of lines 5-6? What does line 17 mean? Shut my eyes? Does the last line mean anything in particular? How many words in the first stanza contribute nothing' to the presentation of the matter? How many are positive drags upon it? Campion's poem is a literary exercise; Jonson's none :he less real for being in part a translation. T h e distinction between poets who draw on books and poets who draw on "life" is less simple than is sometimes assumed. Therc are many ways of using books. UJhat docs Jonson's debt to Catullus consist of? Jonson has log words, Catullus but 66, and Jonson used only the first six lines of Catullus. Partly this reflects the fact that English won't compress like Latin, which can juxtapose "omnes" and "unius," "lux" and nox, and convey complex meanings in single words like "dormienda" and "conturbabimus." Partly it reflects Jonson's intention of conferring on Catullus's hardness an ease that has its own pathos. If you try to stick close to Catullus's words and effects you get the kind of iriflation represented by Campion's first stanza. Why? I'

239

Discriminations

1)

"VIVAMUS, MEA LESBIA

...

##

Frank 0. Copley, 1957

I said to her, darling, I said let's LIVE and let's LOVE and what do we care what those old purveyors of joylessness say? (they can go to hell, all of them) the Sun dies every night in the morning he's there again you and I, now, whcn our briefly tiny light flicks out, it's night for us, one single evcrlasting Night. give me a kiss, a hundrcd a thousand kisses, a fiftv cleven seven hundred thousand kisses, and let's do it all over again Darling how many, how many, you say?

mix them up; it's bad luck to know how many; wouldn't want people to count, them, up sorncbody might have the Evil Eye and if he knew he just might BEWITCH them.

Andrew Marvell, c. 1646

15

25

W e learn from the first line of Professor Copleyls version that he has chosen to transpose the entire poem from direct speech to speech rccollected. rccollccted perhaps under different circumstances and for a different audience. W h y do you think he has done this? Do you detect any uneasiness or embarrassment in the tone of the poem? any bravado? Is there something about this twentieth-century idiom that is incompatible with unembarrassed passion? W h y the capitalized emphases in lines 2 and 3? Are they meant to compensate for some inadequacy of language? This version makes the speech to the girl an intensely private and personal utterance. Does Jonson's? In the twentieth century, do we suppose that eloquence and intense private utterance are somehow incompatible? If so, why? Have we the same trust in the adequacy of language for personal purposes that a member of Jonson's civilization had? Stumbling speech is itself a sort of compliment. "I can't put this well, but you know me well enough to understand." There have been civilizations which would not have prized a compliment paid in this mode. TO HIS COY MISTRESS

10

20

Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. W e would sit down, and think which way T o walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy Forehead gaze;

240

Discriminations

Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate. But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. T h y beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try ved That l ~ n ~ - ~ r e s e r virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust: T h e grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapped power. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

15

20

40

It would be a mistake to call this poem sarcastic or cynical. Cynicism is a simple attitude. Cynicism would imply that the lady isn't a person but simply the withholder of gratifications for pretentious reasons. Marvell recognizes that the speaker's desires exist in two different scales of value: "For, lady, you deserve this state" (wooing as a recognition of human dignity; one doesn't smash and grab).

45

Questions 1. What is the tone of the first two lines? Polite? Savage? Courtly? Sarcastic? Ironic? Does each of these adjectives cover something that is present, but omit something else? 2. Lines 5-6 are generous and romantic; lines 6-7, faintly absurd.

Discriminations

Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate. But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. T h y beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try ved That l ~ n ~ - ~ r e s e r virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust: T h e grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapped power. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.

What about lines 7-10? What is the tone of lines 19-20? HOWis it affected by the financial implications of "at lower rate"? 3. Lines 21-24 turn the "world" and "time" of line 1 into new images. What previous images for these themes have been used? How do these images differ? 4. Note how "vault" interacts with "echoing" in lines 26-27. What is the tone of lines 27-28? What does "quaint" mean? (See a good dictionary.) 5. Lines 33-36 assert vitality against the "dust" of line 29. Note how the lovers turn into "amorous birds of prey" in defiance of "time's winged chariot." 6. T h e '(chaps" are the jaws (now "chops"). What does "slowchapped" mean (line 40)? That time devours his victims at great leisure? 7. Explain the last two lines. Is this poem song or speech? What kind of feelings about the lady does it imply? Is she a simple object of appetite, or a complex human being? Her coyness isn't boredom, or disdain, or chastity, but a desire to be wooed on a grand scale. How far does line 19 mean what it says?

For most readers, this version of Catullus's theme obliterates all others. Its drama and hyperbole perhaps owe something to the Elizabethan stage. Catullus's sixty-six words have gone into forty-six lines; the English genius has seldom been for compression.

240

241

"But at my back I always hear

. . . (brevity of human life).

H e maintains contact with both of these scales of value throughout. Speech in good writing reflects the play of an intelligent mind which doesn't crash through conflicting facts but recognizes the claim of each. What the critic calls "tone" is only interesting if it is governed by intelligence of this kind.

T o his Coy Mistress implies a great deal about "the human situation" (which, incidentally, would be very dull if it were written out ill an essay). It does this by intense concentration on two lovers, the presentation of whom is so economical that only one of them is made to speak. ( W h y would the poem be weakened if we were told, for instance, the color of the lady's hair?) Love and Time: Twelve Poems

15

20

25

30

241

What about lines 7-10? What is the tone of lines 19-20? HOWis it affected by the financial implications of "at lower rate"? 3. Lines 21-24 turn the "world" and "time" of line I into new images. What previous images for these themes have been used? How do these images differ? 4. Note how "vault" interacts with "echoing" in lines 26-27. What is the tone of lines 27-28? What does "quaint" mean? (See a good dictionary.) 5. Lines 33-36 assert vitality against the "dust" of line 29. Note how the lovers turn into "amorous birds of prey" in defiance of "time's winged chariot." 6. T h e "chaps" are the jaws (now "chops"). What does "slowchapped" mean (line 40)? That time devours his victims at great leisure? 7. Explain the last two lines. Is this poem song or speech? What kind of feelings about the lady does it imply? Is she a simple object of appetite, or a complex human being? Her coyness isn't boredom, or disdain, or chastity, but a desire to be wooed on a grand scale. How far does line 19 mean what it says?

35

40

It would be a mistake to call this poem sarcastic or cynical. Cynicism is a simple attitude. Cynicism would imply that the lady isn't a person but simply the withholder of gratifications for pretentious reasons. Marvell recognizes that the speaker's desires exist in two different scales of value: "For, lady, you deserve this state" (wooing as a recognition of human dignity; one doesn't smash and grab).

45

For most readers, this version of Catullus's theme obliterates all others. Its drama and hyperbole perhaps owe something to the Elizabethan stage. Catullus's sixty-six words have gone into forty-six lines; the English genius has seldom been for compression. Questions 1. What is the tone of the first two lines? Polite? Savage? Courtly? Sarcastic? Ironic? Does each of these adjectives cover something that is present, but omit something else? 2. Lines 5-6 are generous and romantic; lines 6-7, faintly absurd.

"But at my back I always hear

. . . (brevity

of human life).

H e maintains contact with both of these scales of value throughout. Speech in good writing reflects the play of an intelligent mind which doesn't crash through conflicting facts but recognizes the claim of each. What the critic calls "tone" is only interesting if it is governed by intelligence of this kind.

T o his Coy Mistress implies a great deal about "the human situation" (which, incidentally, would be very dull if it were written out ill an essay). It does this by intense concentration on two lovers, the presentation of whom is so economical that only one of them is made to speak. ( W h y would the poem be weakened if we were told, for instance, the color of the lady's hair?)

242

Discriminations

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

Sufficient concentration on-condensation of-the particular case will cause it to generalize itself. No summary is, or needs to be, appended, and no comments are, or need to be, interwoven. Confucius' "The way out is via the door; how is it no one will use this method?" draws into one image a hundred kinds of folly which it would be lame to specify. Bad translators sometimes try to specify them, as when they render the second half of the maxim, ". . yet no one uses the proper method for attaining perfection." Ezra Pound used to advise young poets, ('Don't use such an expression as 'dim lands of peace.' It dulls the image. It mixes an abstraction with the concrete." It is probably a safe maxim that an attempt to combine the image and the application, that is, to do two things at once, reduces the voltage of both. In applying this maxim to particular cases, the reader is advised to be sure he knows what the subject is.

243

What may pass within this bower(Let it pass, quo' Findlay) -Ye maun conceal till your last hour. Indeed will I! quo' Findlay.

Autres temps, auhes mceurs.

.

Archibald MacLeish, 1930 And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth's noonward height T o feel the always coming on T h e always rising of the night: T o feel creep up the curving east T h e earthy chill of dusk and slow Upon those under lands the vast And ever climbing shadow grow

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR?

Robert B u m s , c. 1787

And strange at Ecbatan the trees Take leaf by leaf the evening strange T h e flooding dark about their knees T h e mountains over Persia change

W h a is that at my bower door? 0 wha is it but Findlay; Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here. Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay. What mak ye, sae like a thief? 0 come and see, quo7Findlay. Before the morn ye'll work mischief? Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

And now at Kermanshah the gate Dark empty and the withered grass And through the twilight now the late Few travelers in the westward pass And Baghdad darken and the bridge Across the silent river gone And through Arabia the edge Of evening widen and steal on

Gif I rise and let you inLet me in, quo' Findlay -Ye'll keep me wauken wi' your din; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. In my bower if ye should stayLet me stay, quo' Findlay -I fear ye'll bide till break o' day; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

And deepen on Palmyra's street T h e wheel rut in the ruined stone And Lebanon fade out and Crete High through the clouds and overblown

Here this night if ye remainI'll remain! quo' Findlay -I dread ye'll learn the gate again? Indeed will I! quo' Findlay.

242

YOU, ANDREW MARVELL

And over Sicily the air Still flashing with the landward gulls And loom and slowly disappear T h e sails above the shadowy hulls

Discriminations

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

Sufficient concentration on-condensation of-the particular case will cause it to generalize itself. N o summary is, or needs to be, appended, and no comments are, or need to be, interwoven. Confucius' "The way out is via the door; how is it no one will use this method?" draws into one image a hundred kinds of folly which it would be lame to specify. Bad translators sometimes try to specify them, as when they render the second half of the maxim, ". . yet no one uses the proper method for attaining perfection." Ezra Pound used to advise young poets, "Don't use such an expression as 'dim lands of peace.' It dulls the image. It mixes an abstraction with the concrete." It is probably a safe maxim that an attempt to combine the image and the application, that is, to do two things at once, reduces the voltage of both. In applying this maxim to particular cases, the reader is advised to be sure he knows what the subject is.

What may pass within this bower(Let it pass, quo' Findlay) -Ye maun conceal till your last hour. Indeed will I! quo' Findlay.

Autres temps, auhes mceurs.

.

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR?

Robert B u m s , c. 1787 W h a is that at my bower door? 0 wha is it but Findlay; Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here. Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay. What mak ye, sae like a thief? 0 come and see, quo' Findlay. Before the morn ye'll work mischief? Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Gif I rise and let you inLet me in, quo' Findlay -Ye'll keep me wauken wi' your din; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. In my bower if ye should stayLet me stay, quo' Findlay -I fear ye'll bide till break o' day; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Here this night if ye remain1'11 remain! quo' Findlay -I dread ye'll learn the gate again? Indeed will I! quo' Findlay.

YOU, ANDREW MARVELL

Archibald MacLeish, 1930 And here face down beneath the sun And here upon earth's noonward height T o feel the always coming on T h e always rising of the night: T o feel creep u p the curving east T h e earthy chill of dusk and slow Upon those under lands the vast And ever climbing shadow grow And strange at Ecbatan the trees Take leaf by leaf the evening strange T h e flooding dark about their knees T h e mountains over Persia change And now at Kermanshah the gate Dark empty and the withered grass And through the twilight now the late Few travelers in the westward pass And Baghdad darken and the bridge Across the silent river gone And through Arabia the edge Of evening widen and steal on And deepen on Palmyra's street T h e wheel rut in the ruined stone And Lebanon fade out and Crete High through the clouds and overblown And over Sicily the air Still flashing with the landward gulls And loom and slowly disappear T h e sails above the shadowy hulls

243

244

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

Discriminations

245

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain T o Love, as I did once to thee; When all thy tears shall be as vain As mine were then, for thou shalt be Damned for thy false Apostasy.

And Spain go under and the shore

Of Africa the gilded sand And evening vanish and no more T h e low pale light across that land Nor now the long light on the sea: Questions

And here face downward in the sun T o feel how swift how secretly T h e shadow of the night comes on .

..

I . From what religion is she excommunicated, and for what sin? 2. Carew is applying to her inconstancy a very serious analogy. Is the tone of the poem one of deadly solemnity? Is it uniform throughout? 3. Can you feel sure the poem isn't playful?

35

For the title see Marvell's T o His Coy Mistress, lines 21-22. Cinema technique. Though the neat stanzas recall the seventeenth century, this way of presenting the theme would not have occurred to a poet of Marvell's time. Is there a complete sentence anywhere in the poem?

SONNET 87

Willianz Shakespeare, c. 1595 Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate; T h e charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? T h e cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making. Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter, In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter.

Questions

I. What generates the queer thrill in lines 9-10? T h e phenomenon itself is commonplace. Compare Marvell's Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find;

...

This is a thoroughly romantic activity. Is the effect of the lines glamorous? strange? haunting? matter-of-fact? Why? 2. List three devices by which MacLeish generates his effect. 3. Is there any variety of feeling in the poem? Could it accommodate more stanzas? Could some be omitted?

TO M Y INCONSTANT MISTRESS

Thonzas Carew, pub. 1640 When thou, poor excommunicate From all the joys of love, shalt see T h e full reward, and glorious fate, Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy.

A patent (line 8) was in Elizabethan usage a legally enforceable monopoly, not necessarily connected with an invention. They were granted and withdrawn by the crown, and were the object of much intriguing and conniving. I

SONNET 93

W i l l i a m Shakespeare, c. 1595

A fairer hand than thine, shall cure That heart, which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul, a soul more pure Than thine, shall by Love's hand be bound, And both with equal glory crowned. 244

10

So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place.

Discriminations

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain T o Love, as I did once to thee; When all thy tears shall be as vain As mine were then, for thou shalt be Damned for thy false Apostasy.

And Spain go under and the shore

Of Africa the gilded sand And evening vanish and no more T h e low pale light across that land Nor now the long light on the sea:

245

15

Questions

And here face downward in the sun T o feel how swift how secretly T h e shadow of the night comes on

I . From what religion is she excommunicated, and for what sin? 2. Carew is applying to her inconstancy a very serious analogy. Is the tone of the poem one of deadly solemnity? Is it uniform throughout? 3. Can you feel sure the poem isn't playful?

...

For the title see Marvell's T o His Coy Mistress, lines 21-22. Cinema technique. Though the neat stanzas recall the seventeenth century, this way of presenting the theme would not have occurred to a poet of Marvell's time. Is there a complete sentence anywhere in the poem?

SONNET 87

W i l l i a m Shakespeare, c. 1595

Questions I . What generates the queer thrill in lines 9-10? T h e phenomenon itself is commonplace. Compare Marvell's

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find;

...

This is a thoroughly romantic activity. Is the effect of the lines glamorous? strange? haunting? matter-of-fact? Why? 2. List three devices by which MacLeish generates his effect. 3. Is there any variety of feeling in the poem? Could it accommodate more stanzas? Could some be omitted?

TO M Y INCONSTANT MISTRESS

Thonzas Carew, pub. 1640 When thou, poor excommunicate From all the joys of love, shalt see T h e full reward, and glorious fate, Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy.

h

Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate; T h e charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? T h e cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making. Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter, In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter.

A patent (line 8) was in Elizabethan usage a legally enforceable monopoly, not necessarily connected with an invention. They were granted and withdrawn by the crown, and were the object of much intriguing and conniving. SONNET 93

W i l l i a m Shakespeare, c. 1595

A fairer hand than thine, shall cure That heart, which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul, a soul more pure Than thine, shall by Love's hand be bound, And both with equal glory crowned.

10

So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place.

246

Discriminations

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many's looks the false heart's history Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange. But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, T h y looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.

THE EXTASIE John Donne, c. 1600

Where, like a pillow on a bed, A Pregnant banke swell'd up, to rest T h e violets reclining head, Sat we two, one anothers best. Our hands were firmely cimented With a fast balme, which thence did spring, Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred Our eyes, upon one double string; So to'entergraft our hands, as yet Was all the meanes to make us one, And pictures in our eyes to get Was all our propagation. As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate Suspends uncertaine victorie, Our soules, (which to advance their state, Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee. And whil'st our soules negotiate there, W e e like sepulchrall statues lay; All day, the same our postures were, And wee said nothing, all the day. If any, so by love refin'd, That he soules language understood, And by good love were growen all minde, Within convenient distance stood, H e (though he knew not which soule spake, Because both meant, both spake the same) Might thence a new concoction take, And part farre purer than he came. This Extasie doth unperplex ( W e said) and tell us what we love, W e e see by this, it was not sexe, Wee see, we saw not what did move: But as all several1 soules containe Mixture of things, they know not what, Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe, And makes both one, each this and that. A single violet transplant, T h e strength, the colour, and the size,

T h e image in the last two lines greatly subtilizes the conventional figure of the beautiful apple rotten at the core. Eve's apple was a perfectly sound apple but not a safe meal: it darkened the eater's intellect and destroyed the workings of grace in his soul; and it did these things to Eve herself before she offered it to Adam. Note that Shakespeare applies this image to her beauty, not to her.

SONNET

Mark Alexander Boyd ( I 563-1 601). Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie Like ti1 a leaf that fallis from a tree O r ti1 a reed ourblawin with the wind, T w o gods guides me, the ane of them is blin, Yea, and a bairn brocht u p in vanitie, T h e next a wife ingenrit of the sea And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. Unhappy is the man for evermair That tills the sand and sawis in the air, But twice unhappier is he, I lairn, That feidis in his heart a mad desire And follows on a woman throw the fire Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn. 2 . Ourhailit: carried away. 5 . blin: blind. 8 . lichter: more capricious. dauphin: dolphin 1 2 . feidis: feeds. 1 0 . sawis: sows.

7 . ingenrit: engendered.

Sonnets customarily go through the motions of arguing something out. Does this one?

246

I

I I.

get: beget.

Discriminations

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. I n many's looks the false heart's history Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange. But heaven in thy creation did decree T h a t in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, T h y looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.

THE EXTASIE John Donne, c. 1600

Where, like a pillow on a bed, A Pregnant banke swell'd up, to rest T h e violets reclining head, Sat we two, one anothers best. Our hands were firmely cimented With a fast balme, which thence did spring, Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred Our eyes, upon one double string; So to'entergraft our hands, as yet Was all the meanes to make us one, And pictures in our eyes to get Was all our propagation. As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate Suspends uncertaine victorie, Our soules, (which to advance their state, Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee. And whil'st our soules negotiate there, Wee like sepulchrall statues lay; All day, the same our postures were, And wee said nothing, all the day. If any, so by love refin'd, That he soules language understood, And by good love were growen all minde, Within convenient distance stood, H e (though he knew not which soule spake, Because both meant, both spake the same) Might thence a new concoction take, And part farre purer than he came. This Extasie doth unperplex ( W e said) and tell us what we love, W e e see by this, it was not sexe, Wee see, we saw not what did move: But as all severall soules containe Mixture of things, they know not what, Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe, And makes both one, each this and that. A single violet transplant, T h e strength, the colour, and the size,

T h e image in the last two lines greatly subtilizes the conventional figure of the beautiful apple rotten at the core. Eve's apple was a perfectly sound apple but not a safe meal: it darkened the eater's intellect and destroyed the workings of grace in his soul; and it did these things to Eve herself before she offered it to Adam. Note that Shakespeare applies this image to her beauty, not to her.

SONNET

Mark Alexander Boyd (1563-1601). Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie Like ti1 a leaf that fallis from a tree Or ti1 a reed ourblawin with the wind, T w o gods guides me, the ane of them is blin, Yea, and a bairn brocht up in vanitie, T h e next a wife ingenrit of the sea And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. Unhappy is the man for evermair That tills the sand and sawis in the air, But twice unhappier is he, I lairn, That feidis in his heart a mad desire And follows on a woman throw the fire Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn. Ourhailit: carried away. 5. blin: blind. 8. lichter: more capricious. dauphin: dolphin 1 2 . feidis: feeds. 1 0 . sawis: sows. 2.

7 . ingenrit: engendered.

Sonnets customarily go through the motions of arguing something out. Does this one?

247

I I.

get: beget.

247

248

Love and Time: Twelve Poems

Discriminations

(All which before was poore, and scant,) Redoubles still, and multiplies. When love, with one another so Interinanimates two soules, That abler soule, which thence doth flow, Defects of lonelinesse controules. Wee then, who are this new soule, know Of what we are compos'd, and made, For, th'Atomies of which we grow Are soules, whom no change can invade. But 0 alas, so long, so farre Our bodies why doe wee forbeare? They are ours, though they are not wee, Wee are T h e intelligences, they the spheare. W e owe them thankes, because they thus, Did us, to us, at first convay, Yielded their forces, sense, to us, Nor are drosse to us, but allay. O n man heavens influence workes not SO, But that it first imprints the ayre, So soule into the soule may flow, Though it to body first repaire. As our blood labours to beget Spirits, as like soules as it can, Because such Angers need to knit That subtile knot, which makes us man: So must pure lovers soules descend T'affections, and to faculties, Which sense may reach and apprehend, Else a great Prince in prison lies. To'our bodies turne wee then, that SO Weake men on love reveal'd may looke; Loves mysteries in soules doe grow, But yet the body is his booke. And if some lover, such as wee, Have heard this dialogue of one, Let him still marke us, he shall see Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.

249

possible to "know" the component souls if they had lost their identities in merging. "Intelligences" (line 52) are the powers that revolve the crystalline spheres to which the heavenly bodies are attached. This transforms line 54 into an astronomical metaphor, the conjunction of two planets. Line 56 returns us to alchemy. You skim off dross and discard it. "Bodies" in line 76 may be the technical term for atoms. May it also have its usual meaning? In The Extasie Donne is not as in many other poems using his learning as a fulcrum to express (ironically) an attitude to an event. H e is outlining a doctrine that seems necessary to explain the subtlety of lovers' mutual feelings. Since the doctrine exists to feed the mind, not to permit control of nature, it isn't invalidated by the obsolescence of the chemistry and astronomy it incorporates.

50

75

"Concoction" (line 27), one of the phases in the alchemical process of transmuting less worthy metals into more worthy. "Know" (line 45) doesn't mean "remember" or "identify." It refers to the process of holding clearly in the mind something that incorruptibly exists. It wouldn't be

!

I

I

Transience: Seven Poems

wait on the sun's permission. With your mind on the man rather than on the sun, note the force of "basest": the sun is impersonally beclouded, but human beings have fits of temper. Is Shakespeare keeping this implication relatively hidden? Why? 4. Do lines 7-8 imply that the patron has undergone reverses of fortune, or that his own inconstancy disgraces him? 5. Ostensibly, the human half of the comparison doesn't begin until line 9. Actually, as we have seen, Shakespeare has already smuggled in the important part of it. 6. Is there a pun on the first word of line r4? In view of all that has gone before, what do you think is the tone of this line? What would be its tone for a reader who had read the poem superficially?

nmnn Transience: Seven Poems

It is tempting to imagine a fickle patron receiving this sonnet and failing to see through it. Shakespeare's blandness of surface frequently conceals savage implications. A PALINODE

SONNET 33

Edmund Bolton, 1600

William Shakespeare, c. 1595

As withereth the primrose by the river, As fadeth summer's sun from gliding fountains, As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever, As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains: So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers T h e rose, the shine, the bubble, and the snow Of praise, pomp, glory, joy-which short life gathersFair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy. T h e withered primrose by the morning river, T h e faded summer's sun from weeping fountains, T h e light-blown bubble vanishhd forever, T h e molten snow upon the naked muuntains, Are emblems that the treasures we up-lay Soon wither, vanish, fade, and melt away.

Full many a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy: Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my Sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow, But out alack, he was but one hour mine, T h e region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth, Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. Questions

I

I . T h e rhyme scheme divides this sonnet into four parts. Is the sense correspondingly built u p in four stages? 2. Line 2 relates the sun to the mountaintops as a king to his courtiers. Note that it is he who flatters them, not vice versa. Is there any indication OF inherent corruption in his bounty (lines 3-4)? 3. "Permit" in line 5 keeps the human analogy in sight; clouds don't

2m

IL

For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread T h e ambitious hills, which giant-like did threat T o pierce the heaven with their aspiring head, Naked and bare doth leave their craggy seat; Whenas the bubble, which did empty fly T h e dalliance of the undiscernhd wind, O n whose calm rolling waves it did rely, Hath shipwreck made, where it did dalliance find;

Transience: Seven Poems

251

wait on the sun's permission. With your mind on the man rather than on the sun, note the force of "basest" : the sun is impersonally beclouded, but human beings have fits of temper. Is Shakespeare keeping this implication relatively hidden? Why? 4. DO lines 7-8 imply that the patron has undergone reverses of fortune, or that his own inconstancy disgraces him? 5. Ostensibly, the human half of the comparison doesn't begin until line 9. Actually, as we have seen, Shakespeare has already smuggled in the important part of it. 6. Is there a pun on the first word of line rq? In view of all that has gone before, what do you think is the tone of this line? What would be its tone for a reader who had read the poem superficially?

nw~slTransience: Seven Poems

It is tempting to imagine a fickle patron receiving this sonnet and failing to see through it. Shakespeare's blandness of surface frequently conceals savage implications.

A PALINODE

SONNET 33

Edmund Bolton, 1600

William Shakespeare, c. 1595 Full many a glorious morning have I seen, Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy: Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my Sun one early morn did shine, With all triumphant splendour on my brow, But out alack, he was but one hour mine, T h e region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this, my love no whit disdaineth, Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth.

251

As withereth the primrose by the river, As fadeth summer's sun from gliding fountains, As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever, As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains: So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers T h e rose, the shine, the bubble, and the snow Of praise, pomp, glory, joy-which short life gathersFair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy. T h e withered primrose by the morning river, T h e faded summer's sun from weeping fountains, T h e light-blown bubble vanishhd forever, T h e molten snow upon the naked muuntains, Are emblems that the treasures we up-lay Soon wither, vanish, fade, and melt away.

I0

Questions

I

I . T h e rhyme scheme divides this sonnet into four parts. Is the sense correspondingly built u p in four stages? 2. Line 2 relates the sun to the mountaintops as a king to his courtiers. Note that it is he who flatters them, not vice versa. Is there any indication of inherent corruption in his bounty (lines 3-4)? 3. "Permit" in line 5 keeps the human analogy in sight; clouds don't

250 L

For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread T h e ambitious hills, which giant-like did threat T o pierce the heaven with their aspiring head, Naked and bare doth leave their craggy seat; Whenas the bubble, which did empty fly T h e dalliance of the undiscernhd wind, On whose calm rolling waves it did rely, Hath shipwreck made, where it did dalliance find;

252

Transience: Seven Poems

Discriminations And when the sunshine which dissolved the snow, Coloured the bubble with a pleasant vary, And made the rathe and timely primrose grow, Swarth clouds withdrawn (which longer time do tarry)Oh, what is praise, pomp, glory, joy, but so As shine by fountains, bubbles, flowers, or snow?

SIC VITA

Henry King, I 657

Shakespeare's Sonnet 33 indicates, the Elizabethan imagination was much exercised with the way, in a disintegrating feudal society, one's felicity depended on the precarious favor of the patron, the next man u p in the hierarchy. 3. Is the syntax of Bolton's second stanza orderly and straightforward? Is this fact put to any dramatic use?

LIPON THE SUDDEN RESTRAINT OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET, THEN FALLING FROM FAVOUR

Sir Henry W o t t o n ( I 568-1 639))pub. 165 I Like to the falling of a star; Or as the flights of eagles are; Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue; Or silver drops of morning dew; Or like a wind that chafes the flood; Or bubbles which on water stood; Even such is man, whose borrow'd light Is straight call'd in, and paid to night.

T h e W i n d blows out; the Bubble dies; T h e Spring entomb'd i n Autumn lies; T h e Dew dries up; the Star is shot; T h e Flight is past; and Man forgot. Neither this poem nor the preceding one tells us anything we don't already know, and neither one makes any pretense at originality of image; nor is either poet reporting a new emotion undergone in connection with his theme. Why do you think they were written? What is the effect of putting the transience of human glory, or human life, in a much larger context? Is it meant to confer perspective, or encourage Stoic indifference?

Dazzled thus with height of place, Whilst our Hopes our wits Beguile, N o man marks the narrow space 'Twixt a Prison and a Smile. Then since Fortunes favours fade, You that in her arms do sleep, Learn to swim and not to wade; For the Hearts of Kings are deep. But if Greatness be so blind, As to Trust in Towers of Air, Let it be with Goodness lin'd, That at least the Fall be fair. Then though darkened you shall say, When Friends fail and Princes frown, Vertzle is the roughest way, But proves at night a Bed of Down.

Questions I . Are King's six images introduced in any particular order? Would the weight of the poem be changed if "sparrows" were substituted for "eagles"? If the lines were stretched two more syllables by the insertion of extra adjectives? 2. Could Bolton's poem have incorporated an eagle's flight or the falling of a star? What have Bolton's images in common, besides transience? They mirror the transience not of human life but of life's accessories: "praise, pomp, glory, joy." Are they similarly themselves the adornments of more primary realities? Note the role of the sun in bringing about the beauties and disappearances in lines 23-26. As the similar image in

253

FISH I N THE UNRUFFLED LAKES

W . H . Auden, 1940 Fish in the unrumed lakes T h e swarming colours wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks Through his innocent grove;

254

Discriminations

Transience: Seven Poems

Lion, fish and swan Act, and are gone Upon Time's toppling wave.

Beauty is but a flower, Which wrinkles will devour, Brightness falls from the air, Queens have died young, and fair, Dust hath clos'd Helen's eye. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

W e till shadowed days are done, W e must weep and sing Duty's conscious wrong, T h e Devil in the clock, T h e Goodness carefully worn For atonement or for luck; W e must lose our loves, O n each beast and bird that moves T u r n an envious look.

Strength stoops unto the grave, Worms feed on Hector brave, S\vords may not fight with fate, Earth still holds ope her gate. Come, come, the bells do cry. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

Sighs for folly said and done Twist our narrow days; But I must bless, I must praise That you, my swan, who have All gifts that to the swan Impulsive Nature gave, T h e majesty and pride, Last night should add Your voluntary love.

W i t with his wantonness, Tasteth death's bitterness: Hell's executioner, Hath no ears for to hear What vain art can reply. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

LITANY, I N TlME OF PLAGUE

Thomas Nashe,

Rich men, trust not in wealth, Gold cannot buy you health, Physic himself must fade. All things, to end are made, T h e $ague full swift goes by, l am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

254

Haste therefore each degree, T o welcome destiny : Heaven is our heritage, Earth but a stage, Mount we unto the sky. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

1600

Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, This world uncertain is, Fond are life's lustful joys, Death proves them all but toys, None from his darts can fly, I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

Questions I . What is the image in line 25? Is Earth personified? Are you i n tended to see a specific picture? 2. What does "Wit with his wantonness" (line 29) usually taste? 3. Is the language in lines 15-19 primarily exact or primarily suggestive? Is the stanza typical of the rest of the poem? 4. Compare the dominant rhythms of stanza I and stanza 5. Through. out the poem thcre are six syllablcs to a line, but it is difficult to decide if the prevalent foot is iambic, trochaic, or dactylic. What use does Nashe make of this freedom?

Discriminations

Transience: Seven Poems

Lion, fish and swan Act, and are gone Upon Time's toppling wave.

Strength stoops unto the grave, Worms feed on Hector brave, Swords may not fight with fate, Earth still holds ope her gate. Come, come, the bells do cry. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

Sighs for folly said and done Twist our narrow days; But I must bless, I must praise That you, my swan, who have All gifts that to the swan Impulsive Nature gave, T h e majesty and pride, Last night should add Your voluntary love.

W i t with his wantonness, Tasteth death's bitterness: Hell's executioner, Hath no ears for to hear What vain art can reply. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

LITANY, I N TlME OF PLAGUE

Haste therefore each degree, T o welcome destiny : Heaven is our heritage, Earth but a players' stage, A'Iount we unto the sky. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

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Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, This world uncertain is, Fond are life's lustful joys, Death proves them all but toys, None from his darts can fly, I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us. Rich men, trust not in wealth, Gold cannot buy you health, Physic himself must fade. All things, to end are made, T h e plague full swift goes by, l a m sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

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Beauty is but a flower, Which wrinkles will devour, Brightness falls from the air, Queens have died young, and fair, Dust hath clos'd Helen's eye. I am sick, I must die: Lord have mercy on us.

W e till shadowed days are done, W e must weep and sing Duty's conscious wrong, T h e Devil in the clock, T h e Goodness carefully worn For atonement or for luck; W e must lose our loves, O n each beast and bird that moves T u r n an envious look.

Thomas Nashe,

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Questions I . What is the image in line 25? Is Earth personified? Are you i n tended to see a specific picture? 2. What does '(Wit with his wantonness" (line 29) usually taste? 3. Is the language in lines 15-19 primarily exact or primarily suggestive? Is the stanza typical of the rest of the poem? 4. Compare the dominant rhythms of stanza I and stanza 5. Through. out the poem thcre are six syllablcs to a line, but it is difficult to decide if the prevalent foot is iambic, trochaic, or dactylic. What use does Nashe make of this freedom?

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Discriminations HEY NONNY NO! Anonymous, I 7th century

Hey nonny no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is't not fine to dance and sing W h e n the bells of death do ring? Is't not fine to swim in wine, And turn upon the toe, And sing hey nonny no! W h e n the winds do blow and the seas flow? Hey nonny no!

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Undistinguished, though the fourth line is chillingly explicit. This scrap of tavern song is no doubt representative of a thousand others that didn't happen to get written down. It will serve as one kind of measure of Nashe's achievement.

From THE PRELUDE William Wordsworth, I 799 and later

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society. How strange that all T h e terrors, pains, and early miseries, Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part, And that a needful part, in making up T h e calm existence that is mine when I Am worthy of myself! Praise to the end! Thanks to the means which Nature deigned to employ; Whether her fearless visitings, or those That came with soft alarm, like hurtless light Opening the peaceful clouds; or she may use Severer interventions, ministry More palpable, as best might suit her aim. One summer evening (led by her) I found

A little boat tied to a willow tree Within a rocky cave, its usual home. Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in

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Discriminations HEY NONNY NO! Anonymous, I 7th century

Hey nonny no! Men are fools that wish to die! Is't not fine to dance and sing W h e n the bells of death do ring? Is't not fine to swim in wine, And turn upon the toe, And sing hey nonny no! When the winds do blow and the seas flow? Hey nonny no!

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Undistinguished, though the fourth line is chillingl;? explicit. This scrap of tavern song is no doubt representative of a thousand others that didn't happen to get written down. It will serve as one kind of measure of Nashe's achievement.

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From THE PRELUDE William Wordsworth, I 799 and later

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society. How strange that all T h e terrors, pains, and early miseries, Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part, And that a needful part, in making u p T h e calm existence that is mine when I Am worthy of myself! Praise to the end! Thanks to the means which Nature deigned to employ; Whether her fearless visitings, or those That came with soft alarm, like hurtless light Opening the peaceful clouds; or she may use Severer interventions, ministry More palpable, as best might suit her aim. One summer evening (led by her) I found

A little boat tied to a willow tree Within a rocky cave, its usual home. Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in

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Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on; Leaving behind her still, on either side, Small circles glittering idly in the moon, TJntil they melted all into one track Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point With an unswerving line, I fixed my view TJpon the summit of a craggy ridge, T h e horizon's utmost boundary; far above Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky. She was an elfin pinnace; lustily I dipped my oars into the silent lake, And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat Went heaving through the water like a swan; When, from behind that craggy steep till then T h e horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, As if with voluntary power instinct Upreared its head. I struck and struck again, And growing still in stature the grim shape Towered up between me and the stars, and still, For so it seemed, with purpose of its own And measured motion like a living thing, Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned, And through the silent water stole my way Back to the covert of the willow-tree; There in the mooring-place I left my bark,And through the meadows homeward went, in grave And serious mood; but after I had seen That spectacle, lor many days, my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion. N o familiar shapes Remained, no pleasant images of trees, Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields; But huge and mighty forms, that do not live Like living men, moved slowly through the mind By day, ~ n were d a trouble to my dreams. Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought.

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T h a t givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion, not in vain By day or star-light thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me T h e passions that build u p our human soul; Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring thingsWith life and nature-purifying thus T h e elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline, Both pain and fear, until we recognise A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me With stinted kindness. In November days, W h e n vapours rolling down the valley made A lonely scene more lonesome, among woods, At noon and 'mid the calm of summer nights, When, by the margin of the trembling lake, Beneath the gloom): hills homeward I went I n solitude, such intercourse was mine; Mine was it in the fields both day and night, And by the waters, all the summer long. And in the frosty ccason, when the sun Was set, and visible for many a mile T h e cottage windows blazed through twilight gloom, I heeded not their summons: happy time It was indeed for all of us-for me It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud T h e village clock tolled six,-I wheeled about, Proud and exulting like an untried horse That cares not for his home. All shod with steel, W e hissed along the polished ice in games Confederate, imitative of the chase And woodland pleasures,-the resounding horn, T h e pack loud chiming, and the hunted hare. So through the darkness and the cold we flew, And not a voice was idle; with the din Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; T h e leafless trees and every icy crag Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills Into the tumult sent an alien sound

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Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west T h e orange sky of evening died away. Not seldom from the uproar I retired Into a silent bay, or sportively Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, T o cut across the reflex of a star That fled, and, flying still before me, gleamed Upon the glassy plain; and oftentimes, When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still T h e rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me-even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round! Behind me did they stretch in silent train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched Till all was tranquil as a dreamless sleep.

And honoured among wagons I was prince of thc apple towns And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with the daisies and barley Down the rivers of the windfall light.

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Unhurried presentation of suprarational experience. Wordsworth's use of the equable movement of blank verse as a stabilizer is one of the most evident characteristics of these passages. Note the effect of lines 4-5 in shifting to another plane the otherwise mystical content of lines 1-4. Do lines 12-17 operate on the same level as either of these two bits? Line 18 opens a matter-of-fact narrative; at what point does the eerie begin to intrude? Is it ever wholly explicable? wholly inexplicable? T h e writer is recalling sensations which, since they were not understood at the time, cannot be wholly articulated as they then seemed. O n the other hand, to analyze them with the aid of his mature experience would destroy their quality. Compare the method of the next poem.

FERN HILL

Dylan Thomas, I 945 Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, T h e night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes,

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And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home, In the sun that is young once only, Time let me play and be Golden in the mercy of his means, And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold, And the sabbath rang slowly In the pebbles of the holy streams. All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay Fields high as the house, the tune from the chimneys, it was air And playing, lovely and watery And fire green as grass. And nightly under the simple stars As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away, All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the night-jars Flying with the ricks, and the horses Flashing into the dark. And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all Shining, it was Adam and maiden, T h e sky gathered again And the sun grew round that very day. So it must have been after the birth of the simple light In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm Out of the whinnying green stable O n to the fields of praise. And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long, In the sun born over and over, I ran my heedless ways, My wishes raced through the house high hay And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs Before the children green and golden Follow him out of grace,

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Nothing I cared, in thc lamb white days, that time would take me U p to the swallow throngcd loft by the shadow of my hand, In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him fly with the high fields And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land. O h as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

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Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, Vaulted with all thy congregated might

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Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear! Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams T h e blue Mediterranean, where he lay Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

ODE TO THE WEST WIND Percy Bysslze Shelley, I 8 19

0 wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: 0 thou W h o chariotest to their dark wintry bed

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below T h e sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear T h e sapless foliage of the ocean, know

T h e cvingPd seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

T h y voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear! If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With iiving hues and odours plain and hill:

T h e impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, 0 uncontrollable! If even I were as in my boyhood, and could be

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear! Thou on whose streams, mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, 0

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread O n the blue surface of thine aery surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, T h e locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

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T h e comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven

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As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

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I

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! T h e tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse,

Better a blind word to bluster with-better a bad word than none lieber Gott! Watch me push into my witch's vortex all the Englishman's got T o cackle and rattle with-you catch my intention?-to be busily balking T h e tongue-tied Briton-that is my outlandish plot!

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T o put a spark in his damp peat-a squib for the ScotchmanStarch for the Irish-to give a teutonic-cum-Scot Breadth to all that is slender in Anglo-cum-Oxfordshire-Saxony, Over-pretty in Eire-to give to this watery galaxy A Norseman's seasalted stamina, a dram of the Volsung's salt blood.

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Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth

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T h e trumpet of a prophecy! 0 , Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? A poem of ritual magic, as in Marlowe's play about Faustus calling up the devil and consigning his soul to him. One calls up a spirit by a ritual naming of his powers and attributes, as in Shelley's lines 1-42, with their threefold invocation and their intricate formality of metaphor.

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Questions

List the things to which the wind and the objects it acts on are compared in lines 1-28. What purpose is served by the enormous variety of comparison? Note that when one image is about to be exchanged for another the line generally opens with a strongly accented syllable. Why? 2. How do lines 43-45 relate to what has preceded? to what follows? 3. Is there a confusion between the trumpet and the air blown through it in lines 68-69? Does it matter? W h y or why not? 4. Are lines 68-70 prepared for earlier in the poem? 5. Is there any indication of the substance of the prophecy mentioned in line 69? I.

From THE SONG OF THE MILITANT ROMANCE

Wyndham Lewis, 1933 1

Again let me do a lot of extraordinary talking. Again let me do a lot! Let me abound in speeches-let me abound!-publicly polyglot.

As to the trick of the prosody, the method of conveying the matter, Frankly I shall provoke the maximum of saxophone clatter. I shall not take 'limping' iambics, nor borrow from Archilochous His 'light-horse gallop', nor drive us into a short distich that would bog us. I shall not go back to Skeltonics, nor listen to Doctor Guest. I know with my bold Fourteener I have the measure that suits us best. I shall drive the matter along as I have driven it from the first, My peristalsis is well-nigh perfect in burst upon well-timed burstI shall drive my coach and four through the strictest of hippical treatises, I do not want to know too closely the number of beats it is. So shipwreck the nerves to enable the vessel the better to float. This cockle shell's what it first was built for, and a most seaworthy boat. At roll-call Byron Dominus uttered at a fool-school, Shouted by scottish ushers, caused his lordship to sob like a fool, Yet Byron was the first to laugh at the over-sensitive Keats 'Snuffed out by an article', those were the words. A couple of rubber teats Should have been supplied beyond any question to these overtouchy petsFor me, you are free to spit your hardest and explode your bloody spleen Regarding my bold compact Fourteener, or my four less than fourteen.

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So set up a shouting for me! Get a Donnybrook racket on! Hound down the drowsy latin goliaths that clutter the lexiconSend a contingent over to intone in our battle-lineWrench the trumpet out of the centre of a monkish leonineCourtmartial the stripling slackers who dance in the dull Rhyme RoyalSend staggering out all the stammerers who stick round as Chaucer's foilDig out the dogs from the doggerel of the hudibrastic coupletHot up the cold-as-mutton songbirds of the plantagenet cabinet! Go back to the Confessor's palace and disentangle some anglosaxon, And borrow a bellow or two from the pictish or from the Manxman. Set all our mother-tongue reeling, with the eruption of obsolete vocables, Disrupt it with all the grammars, that are ground down to cement it-with obstacles Strew all the cricket pitches, the sleek tennis-lawns of our tongueInstall a nasty cold in our larynx, a breathlessness in our lung! iv But let me have silence always, in the centre of the shoutingThat is essential! Let me have silence so that no pin may drop And not be heard, and not a whisper escape us for all our spouting, Nor the needle's scratching upon this gramophone of a circular cosmic spot. Hear me! Mark me! Learn me! Throw the mind's ear openShut up the mind's eye-all will be music! What Sculpture of sound cannot-what cannot as a fluid token Words-that nothing else cannot! v But when the great blind talking is set up and thoroughly got goingWhen you are accustomed to be stunnedWhen the thunder of this palaver breaks with a gentle soughing Of discreet Zephyrs, or of dull surf undergroundFull-roaring, when sinus sinus is outblowing, Backed up by a bellow of sheer blarney loudest-lungedThat is the moment to compel from speech That hybrid beyond language-hybrid only words can reach.

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Do not expect a work of the classic canon. Take binoculars to these nests of camouflageSpy out what is half-there-the page-under-the-page. Never demand the integral-never completionAlways what is fragmentary-the promise, the presageEavesdrop upon the soliloquy-stop calling the spade spadeNeglecting causes always in favour of their effectsReading between the lines-surprising things half-madePreferring shapes spurned by our intellects. Plump for the thing, however odd, that's ready to do duty for another, Sooner than one kowtowing to causation and the living-image of its mother. ix Do your damndest! Be yourself! Be an honest-to-goodness sport! Take all on trust! Shut up the gift-nag's mouth! Batten upon report! And you'll hear a great deal more, where a sentence breaks in two, Believe me, than ever the most certificated school-master's darlings do! When a clause breaks down (that's natural, for it's been probably overtaxed) Or the sense is observed to squint, or in a dashing grammatical tort, You'll find more of the stuff of poetry than ever in stupid syntax! I sabotage the sentence! With me is the naked word. I spike the verb-all parts of speech are pushed over on their backs. I am the master of ,111 that is half-uttered and imperfectly heard. Return with me where I am crying out with the gorilla and the bird!

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Like much satire, this would pass for most of its length as enthusiastic propaganda for the thing that is being undermined. T h e technique is to pile up the milk bottles until they topple over. It would be a slighter achievement if it parodied anybody in particular. Lewis seems to have gotten hold of the Romantic whirlwind itself. In the Envoi to the volume in which it appears, we find, If I have not trod the romantic path, blame me! If it has been a man singing and not a bird-

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If so the bird you be to curse, curse me Poor Parrot! T h e n I will teach you another word! If plain speech brings the blush beneath the dirt I'm sorry if you hate the thing you heardBut I meant that you should get it, classic and clear, Between the eyes, or in the centre of the ear! As plain as the 'Burgess-gentleman' got his In natural verses, or the 'Ridiculous Miss'. These times require a tongue that naked goes, Without more fuss than Dryden's or Defoe's.

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THE GARDEN Andrew Marvell, c. 1650-1652 How vainly men themselves amaze, T o win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crowned from some single herb or tree Whose short and narrow-vergkd shade Does prudently their toils upbraid, While all the flowers and trees do close T o weave the garlands of repose! Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, And Innocence, thy sister dear? Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men. Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude T o this delicious solitude. N o white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, C u t in these trees their mistress' name.

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Little, alas! they know or heed, How far these beauties hers exceed! Fair trees! wheres'e'r your barks I wound N o name shall but your own be found. When we have run our passion's heat, Love hither makes his best retreat. T h e gods, that mortal beauty chase, Still in a tree did end their race; Apollo hunted Daphne so, Only that she might laurel grow; And Pan did after Syrinx speed, Not as a nymph, but for a reed. What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; T h e luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; T h e nectarine, and curious peach, Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, Withdraws into its happiness;T h e mind, that ocean where each kind Does straight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other worlds, and other seas, Annihilating all that's made T o a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide: There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light. Such was that happy garden-state, While man there walked without a mate:

Four Landscapes

After a lace so pure and sweet, What other help could yet be meet! But 't was beyond a mortal's share T o wander solitary there : Two paradises 't were in one, T o live in paradise alone. How well the skilful gardener drew Of flowers, and herbs, this dial new; Where, from above, the milder sun Does through a fragrant zodiac run, And, as it works, th'industrious bee Computes its time as well as we! How could such sweet and wholesome hours Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?

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Victors were crowned with chaplets woven from the leaves of palm, oak, and bays; instead of struggling for a few leaves, one can lie at ease shaded by a whole garden. Is there a comic element in this contrast? Is the comedy entirely at the expense of the man of affairs? T h e tone of the first line shifts, depending on whether "amaze" is taken to mean "astonish" or '%bewilder." Is there a similar shift in "pmdently"? in "upbraid? What does "vainly" mean in line I ? Does Marvell maintain this tone of detached amusement later in the poem? Is the amusement always turned in the same direction? T h e puns on "amaze" and "upbraid1' shouldn't be dismissed as conjuring tricks. This wit which localizes itself in single words corresponds to a quality of mind permeating the poem and not always so easy to isolate. "Wit," says T. S. Eliot, "involves, probably, a recognition, implicit in the expression of every experience, of other kinds of experience which are possible." Mr. Eliot adds that it is not cynicism, "though it may be confused with cynicism by the tender-minded. It is confused with erudition because it belongs to an educated mind, rich in generations of experience; and it is confused with cynicism because it implies a constant inspection and criticism of experience." 'I. . . other kinds of experience which are possible." Amid the utmost sensuous lushness, Marvell is able to stumble over a melon (line 39) without ruining the poem. There is nothing fragile about such a mood. Daphne and Syrinx were among the mythological ladies who turned into trees when their pursuers got too close. There is a whole family of such stories. T h e laurel has since become sacred to Apollo, and so the leaf of poets' crowns, as well as of triumphant warriors, and Pan is pictured playing reeds. These lecherous gods turned into artists; does Mar-

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vell imply that they really meant to do that when they started chasing? Note the balance of the poet's laurel crown (line 30) against the victor's palm, oak, or bays of line 2. Stanza 4 repudiates "passion's heat"; stanza 5 presents in its place a more tranquil sensuality, and stanza 6 a higher pleasure still. What happens in stanza 7? Is the imagery less stable? Is Marvell preparing for his fade-out by transferring our attention from a comprehensive symbol of contemplation (the green thought) to a baroque fancy? Note that when the soul leaves the body it doesn't undergo a thrilling release; it glides no farther than the nearest boughs. This is still further controlled by making the bird's wings "silver" (line 54). What is the "longer flight" (line 55)? Does mention of this emphasize still further the limitation implied by the image of the ornamental bird? Consider the difference to the effect had the bird been a skylark, or a nightingale. T h e apparent attack on women in lines 57-64 should be weighed against "Busy companies of men" (line 12) and the feminine personifications of Quiet and Innocence (lines ?lo). Marvell leaves nothing in the poem without its counterweight. With the last stanza both the ideal garden and the garden of Eden have given place to a normal seventeenth-century formal garden with a sundial, the figures on which are formed out of flower clusters. Does the transition from stanza 6 to stanza 7 anticipate this sort of shift? How are the earlier, transcendental implications of gardens maintained in the last stanza? T h e course of the sun through the dial of flowers images the workings of the heavens. T h e bee is busy, like the foolish men of stanza I ; or is its busyness quite like theirs? Consider the fact that a bee belongs in a garden. Are the last two lines sentimental? Does Marvel1 use "sweet" and "wholesome" exactly, or does he surround them with a blur of undefined sentiment? What does a movie script writer mean when he speaks of a "sweet, wholesome" girl?

TO AUTUMN John Keats, I 8 I 9 Season of mists and meliow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless W i t h fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; T o bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; T o swell the gourd, and plump the hazel-shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

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5

And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft T h e red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. Questions I . T o what extent is the personification of Autumn carried through in the poem? Where is the visual suggestion of a person at its maximum? Where at its minimum? Does this alteration of vividness bear some analogy to the progress of the season? What is the order of the stanzas? Chronological? 2. W h y "Losom-friend" (line 2)? Would "ally" change the sense of the line? Would "mistress"? 3. Consider the verbs in lines 5-1 I . What sort of process do they suggest? How is this reinforced by locutions like "more, and still more, later" (lines 8-9)) 4. hlight one see actual persons in the postures indicated in stanza 2? Does Keats believe in the existence of personified Autumn, or does he present her as a poetic fancy encouraged by the way real harvesters arrange themselves occasionally in symbolic postures? Do pictorial illus-

Four Landscapes

TO AUTUMN John Keats, I 8 I 9 Season of mists and meliow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless W i t h fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; T o bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; T o swell the gourd, and plump the hazel-shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

5

I0

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a ~ ~ d e r - ~ r ewith s s , patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Discriminations

vell imply that they really meant to do that when they started chasing? Note the balance of the poet's laurel crown (line 30) against the victor's palm, oak, or bays of line 2. Stanza 4 repudiates "passion's heat"; stanza 5 presents in its place a more tranquil sensuality, and stanza 6 a higher pleasure still. What happens in stanza 7? Is the imagery less stable? Is Marvell preparing for his fade-out by transferring our attention from a comprehensive symbol of contemplation (the green thought) to a baroque fancy? Note that when the soul leaves the body it doesn't undergo a thrilling release; it glides no farther than the nearest boughs. This is still further controlled by making the bird's wings "silver" (line 54). What is the "longer flight" (line 55)? Does mention of this emphasize still further the limitation implied by the image of the ornamental bird? Consider the difference to the effect had the bird been a skylark, or a nightingale. T h e apparent attack on women in lines 57-64 should be weighed against "Busy companies of men" (line 12) and the feminine personifications of Quiet and Innocence (lines ?lo). Marvell leaves nothing in the poem without its counterweight. With the last stanza both the ideal garden and the garden of Eden have given place to a normal seventeenth-century formal garden with a sundial, the figures on which are formed out of flower clusters. Does the transition from stanza 6 to stanza 7 anticipate this sort of shift? How are the earlier, transcendental implications of gardens maintained in the last stanza? T h e course of the sun through the dial of flowers images the workings of the heavens. T h e bee is busy, like the foolish men of stanza I ; or is its busyness quite like theirs? Consider the fact that a bee belongs in a garden. Are the last two lines sentimental? Does Marvell use "sweet" and "wholesome" exactly, or does he surround them with a blur of undefined sentiment? What does a movie script writer mean when he speaks of a "sweet, wholesome" girl?

273

And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells.

273

I0

W h o hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers: And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook; Or by a ~ ~ d e r - ~ r ewith s s , patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours. Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft T h e red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. Questions I . T o what extent is the personification of Autumn carried through in the poem? Where is the visual suggestion of a person at its maximum? Where at its minimum? Does this alteration of vividness bear some analogy to the progress of the season? What is the order of the stanzas? Chronological? 2. W h y "bosom-friend (line 2)? Would "ally" change the sense of the line? Would "mistress"? 3. Consider the verbs in lines 5-1 I . What sort of process do they suggest? How is this reinforced by locutions like "more, and still more, later" (lines 8-9)? 4. hlight one see actual persons in the postures indicated in stanza 2? Does Keats believe in the existence of personified Autumn, or does he present her as a poetic fancy encouraged by the way real harvesters arrange themselves occasionally in symbolic postures? Do pictorial illus-

274

Four Landscapes

Discriminations

trations for this stanza suggest themselves? What school of painters would be interested in such subjects? W h y is the phrase "keep /steadyw divided by a line ending? Would this effect be diminished if "keepn weren't a rhyme word? 5. In stanza I we have fruit, in stanza 2 harvesting, in stanza 3 stubble. Does the poem trail off like the season? Had you the vague impression that the last line had no rhyme? 6. Try to make out why the rhyme scheme in stanza I differs from that of the other two; also the scheme of indention. One element Keats is working with is the time one feels has elapsed between rhymes. Between "trees" (line 5) and "bees" (line g ) there occur not only four full lines, but seven phrasal divisions, hence a sense of crowded activity. In stanza 2 he avoids mid-line pauses. Why? 7. Does Marvell's Garden contain any effects like "swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells"? Compare his fifth stanza to Keats's first. Does Keats's presentation of sensuous richness imply "a recognition of other kinds of experience which are possible"? O r does Keats's thought terminate in sensual facts? 8. Compare Keats's second stanza with Marvell's second. Can one conceive Manell's Quiet and Innocence in terms of genre paintings? Can one so conceive Keats's Autumn? How does the reference to "Your sacred plants" (Marvell, line 1 3 ) place the plants in a large mythological context? Does Keats give his "Autumn" figure any such context? g . 'Wit," says Mr. Eliot, "is confused with erudition because it belongs to an educated mind, rich in generations of experience; and it is confused with cynicism because it implies a constant inspection and criticism of experience." Try to use T h e Garden and Ode to Autumn to illustrate this statement.

SUMMER NIGHT

Alfred Lord Tennyson, I 847 Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: T h e fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me.

5

Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.

275

10

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake: So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me. Questions I . How is this poem supposed to be read? Loudly? Delicately? In whispers? As speech? As chant? Would it set well to music? Tennyson describes a poet reading an Arthurian epic,

.

. . mouthing out his hollow oes and aes, Deep-chested music; Would some such delivery be suitable here? Would you read it more slowly than you normally speak? 2. IS its content of a kind remote from any conceivable way of life? 3. Look up Danae. Did she lie as if to receive a lover? Does the earth? Will the stars use earth as the shower of gold used Danae? Does line 8 mean that "thy heart" is going to receive the lustful embraces of Jupiter, or the chaste regard of the stars? O r does Tennyson know? Do you think Tennyson is consciously evading an overt sexual statement, or just being vaguely melodious? 4. Try to imagine what the last two lines say. Did this strike you when you first read the poem? If not, why not? Does Tennyson's "poetic" skill here consist in keeping "what really happens" out of one's mind? Does he, like hlarvell, substitute imaginary happenings of another order of reality, or is the poem simply a tissue of sonorous suggestions? 5. Is the appeal to the senses made by this poem limited to the sounds of the words? Does it contain anything like the kind of sensuality exemplified by Keats' T o bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees -an interplay of sight and touch-or is the appeal strictly to the ear? 6. Marvell stumbles on melons. Could the speaker of TennYson's poem have conceivably tripped over a watering-can, without ruining everything? Can one imagine his even acknowledging that gardens contain things like watering-cans or snails? 7. Is "[an implicit recognition] of other kinds of experience which are possible" present here, or is Tennyson determined to keep it out? 8. Is the poem negligible?

276

Discriminations

Four Landscapes

With famous portraits of our ancestors; What if those things the greatest of mankind Consider most to magnify, or to bless, But take our greatness with our bitterness?

ANCESTRAL HOUSES William Butler Yeats, I 923

Surely among a rich man's flowering lawns, Amid the rustle of his planted hills, Life overflows without ambitious pains; And rains down life until the basin spills, And mounts more dizzy high the more it rains As though to choose whatever shape it wills And never stoop to a mechanical O r servile shape, at others' beck and call. Mere dreams, mere dreams! Yet Homer had not sung Had he not found it certain beyond dreams T h a t out of life's own self-delight had sprung T h e abounding glittering jet; though now it seems As if some marvellous empty sea-shell flung Out of the obscure dark of the rich streams, And not a fountain, were the symbol which Shadows the inherited glory of the rich. Some violent bitter man, some powerful man Called architect and artist in, that they, Bitter and violent men, might rear in stone T h e sweetness that all longed for night and day, T h e gentleness none there had ever known; But when the master's buried mice can play, And maybe the great-grandson of that house, For all its bronze and marble, 's but a mouse.

0 what if gardens where the peacock strays With delicate feet upon old terraces, O r else all Juno from an urn displays Before the indifferent garden deities; 0 what if levelled lawns and gravelled ways Where slippered Contemplation finds his ease And Childhood a delight for every sense, But take our greatness with our violence? What if the glory of escutcheoned doors, And buildings that a haughtier age designed, T h e pacing to and fro on polished floors Amid great chambers and long galleries, lined

277

40

Questions

What is the image in the first stanza? W h y is it changed at line I 3? Stanza 3 begins, "Some violent bitter man"; stanzas 4 and 5 end with "violence" and "bitterness." Do these three stanzas compris? a unit? Do they project an explanation of the situation statcd at the end of stanza 2? Outline the argument. 3. Are the items in stanzas 4 and 5 properly sorted? Are the first group a corrective to "violence," and the second to "bitterness"? What kind of bitterness is Yeats talking about? Is it explained in lines 20-21? Does the poem recommend bitterness and violence as desirable states of mind? as the only states of mind worth maintaining? How would you place it in relation to Marvell's, Keats's, and Tennyson's? I.

2.

PART

3

Traditions

m m

.

. . Death lies in wait, a kindly brotherfull of the missing words, the words that never get saida kindly brother to the poor. T h e radiant gist that resists the final crystallization. Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, Each able to undo mankind Death's servile emissaries are, Nor to these alone confined. H e has at will More quaint and subtle ways to kill. A smile or kiss, as he will use the art, Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. One of these extracts was written three hundred years before the other. Which is which? How do you know? You can probably tell a Ford from a Pontiac without looking at the name plates. You can also tell this year's Ford from the model issued three years ago, even when both are equally shiny. You didn't acquire this skill by memorizing lists of characteristics. 279

280

Traditions

Similar perceptions are relevant to the study of poems. They come only from experience, that is, from reading. You are only at home with literature when you can bring to it, among other qualifications, as much chronological sense as you habitually bring to automobiles, show tunes, and clothes. Though you can only acquire a sense of chronology by reading, you will acquire it faster and more surely if you have some idea of the different ways in which time marks poems. I . Poems are in touch with the intellectu~land social concerns of the times in which they were written. Sometimes, as in Donne's use of astronomical imagery, such concerns turn up quice explicitly among the words.

1I I

1!

I

Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, Tho' confiscation's vultures hover round. "Confiscation" is no longer a stage Vice; we aren't meant to see him. Johnson is generalizing, not dramatizing. 3. Literature, furthermore, feeds on previous literature. Nobody reads the poetry that has been written between Homer's time and his own more carefully than a serious poet; and his work in turn becomes part of what his successors will read. Coleridge's conception of the possible scope of poetry was affected by the opportunity of reading Shakespeare and Milton; but Tennyson's somewhat different conception was shaped by the fact that his reading embraced Shakespeare, Milton, and Coleridge. From his reading the poet acquires not only specific techniques of expression to borrow and imitate, but a sense of the literary tradition to which he proposes to contribute; and this tradition, as more and more gets added to it, alters from generation to generation.

O n a round ball A workman that hath copies by, can lay An Europe, Afrique, and an Asia, And quickly make that, which was nothing, All, So doth each tear Which thee doth wear A globe, yea, world by that impression grow

...

This was written in the Age of Discovery. Globes are still made, but their manufacture no longer reflects half the dominant enthusiasms of the time, and so wouldn't be used by a modern poet as a parallel for an enveloping emotional experience. 2. Sometimes current interests and concerns shape the poet's thought in subtler ways. Personification, for instance, once came more naturally than it does now:

N o poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation, is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead. . T h e existing order is complete before the new w ~ r karrives; for order to persist after the supervention of novelty, the whole existing order must be, if ever so slightly, altered; and so the relations, proportions, values of each work of art toward the whole are readjusted; and this is conformity between the old and the new. Whoever has approved this idea of order . . . will not find it preposterous that the past should be altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past. And the poet who is aware of this will be aware of great difficulties and responsibilities. -T. S. ELIOT,in 'Tradition and the Individual Talent," i 9 19

..

Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, Each able to undo mankind Death's servile emissaries are; .

..

T h e quiet weight and confidence of these lines (they were written by James Shirley in 1650) draw strength from a belief in abstract moral concepts, in their reality and serviceability, which did not survive the new habits of mind promoted by the seventeenth century's interest in empirical research; draw strength also from a tradition of popular drama accustomed to personifying Virtues and Vices on the stage, accessible to the modern student in the play called Everyman; and from a centuriesold habit of thinking about moral issues in dramatic terms, which lost force amid the eighteenth-century evangelical shift of emphasis from the pageant of human doom to the salvation of one man's soul.

280

It is this principle more than any other that is responsible for one's sense, in reading through an anthology of poems arranged in chrono-

I

Traditions

Similar perceptions are relevant to the study of poems. They come only from experience, that is, from reading. You are only at home with literature when you can bring to it, among other qualifications, as much chronological sense as you habitually bring to automobiles, show tunes, and clothes. Though you can only acquire a sense of chronology by reading, you will acquire it faster and more surely if you have some idea of the different ways in which time marks poems. I . Poems are in touch with the intellectu~land social concerns of the times in which they were written. Sometimes, as in Donne's use of astronomical imagery, such concerns turn up quice explicitly among the words. O n a round ball A workman that hath copies by, can lay An Europe, Afrique, and an Asia, And quickly make that, which was nothing, All, So doth each tear Which thee doth wear A globe, yea, world by that impression grow

...

This was written in the Age of Discovery. Globes are still made, but their manufacture no longer reflects half the dominant enthusiasms of the time, and so wouldn't be used by a modern poet as a parallel for an enveloping emotional experience. 2. Sometimes current interests and concerns shape the pet's thought in subtler ways. Personification, for instance, once came more naturally than it does now: Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, Each able to undo mankind Death's servile emissaries are; .

..

T h e quiet weight and confidence of these lines (they were written by James Shirley in 1650) draw strength from a belief in abstract moral concepts, in their reality and serviceability, which did not survive the new habits of mind promoted by the seventeenth century's interest in empirical research; draw strength also from a tradition of popular drama accustomed to personifying Virtues and Vices on the stage, accessible to the modern student in the play called Everyman; and from a centuriesold habit of thinking about moral issues in dramatic terms, which lost force amid the eighteenth-century evangelical shift of emphasis from the pageant of human doom to the salvation of one man's soul.

Traditions 281 This opens, of course, interminable vistas of study to which you need not feel committed. By systematic reading of literature you can acquire a sense of such alterations of intellectual climate without knowing all about them. You can notice, for instance, how the personifications in Johnson's Vanity of Hu?nan W i s h e s (1749, a century after Shirley) have philosophical rather than visual force:

1

I

1

I

Traditions

281

This opens, of course, interminable vistas of study to which you need not feel committed. By systematic reading of literature you can acquire a sense of such alterations of intellectual climate without knowing all about them. You can notice, for instance, how the personifications in Johnson's Vanity of H u m a n W i s h e s (1749, a century after Shirley) have philosophical rather than visual force: Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, Tho' confiscation's vultures hover round. "Confiscation" is no longer a stage Vice; we aren't meant to see him. Johnson is generalizing, not dramatizing. 3. Literature, furthermore, feeds on previous literature. Nobody reads the poetry that has been written between Homer's time and his own more carefully than a serious poet; and his work in turn becomes part of what his successors will read. Coleridge's conception of the possible scope of poetry was affected by the opportunity of reading Shakespeare and Milton; but Tennysonls somewhat different conception was shaped by the fact that his reading embraced Shakespeare, Milton, and Coleridge. From his reading the poet acquires not only specific techniques of expression to borrow and imitate, but a sense of the literary tradition to which he proposes to contribute; and this tradition, as more and more gets added to it, alters from generation to generation. N o poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation, is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead. . T h e existing order is complete before the new w ~ r karrives; for order to persist after the supervention of novelty, the whole existing order must be, if ever so slightly, altered; and so the relations, proportions, values of each work of art toward the whole are readjusted; and this is conformity between the old and the new. Whoever has approved this idea of order . . . will not find it preposterous that the past should be altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past. And the poet who is aware of this will be aware of great difficulties and responsibilities. -T. S. ELIOT,in 'Tradition and the Individual Talent," i 9 19

..

It is this principle more than any other that is responsible for one's sense, in reading through an anthology of poems arranged in chrono-

282

Traditions

logical order, of period modulating into period, style into style, fashion into fashion, without cataclysmic gestures of originality. Unless we bear it in mind, we are likely to suppose that the poems of a certain age, in their curious homogeneity of style, merely "express their time," and give something called "the spirit of the age" credit for a similarity of approach which was much more influenced by the state of literary tradition. For all the poets who were writing in 1820, literary history came to a provisional end in I 820. 4. Every poet develops, to a greater or lesser extent, during his lifetime; each new poem is for him a new enterprise. It follows that his latcr work will not only be more accomplished, probably more inclusive, than his earlier; it will also, to some extent, take our knowledge of his earlier work for granted. You can't know an important poet by reading samples, though once you know him as a whole you can illustrate remarks about his methods by citing samples. Some poets, having worked clear of the very early period in which they were imitating forerunners, and having established a personal manner, simply master the art of repeating themselves with greater and greater fluency. Others, like Shakespeare, may be seen breaking new ground in their last work. T h e standard set by Shakespeare is that of a continuous develop ment from first to last, a development in which the choice both of theme and of dramatic and verse technique in each play seems to be determined increasingly by Shakespeare's state of feeling, by the particular stage of his emotional maturity at the time. . . . T h e full meaning of any one of his plays is not in itself alone, but in that play in the order in which it was written, in its relation to all of Shakespeare's other plays, earlier and later: we must know all of Shakespeare's work in order to know any of it. -T. S. ELIOT,in "John Ford," 1932 A book like the present one is no substitute for even a modest library. T h e purpose of this section is to guide your further explorations. You can learn a great deal from even a general anthology of short and medium-length poems arranged in chronological order. An accurate sense of who came in which century will obviate much confusion. T h e following chronology can be expanded as you acquire additional data.

282

Traditions

CHRONOLOGY

1300-date to which Dante assigned his vision I 400-death

of Chaucer

1600-Hamlet (approximate)

Shakespeare: I 564-1616 Marlowe: I 564-1 593 Donne: 1573-1631 (Note that Donne in his late twenties could have attended performances of Shakespeare's plays.)

Paradise Lost, written in the middle of the 17th century, published 1667 1700-Death of Dryden; Pope then 12 years old I 776-American Revolution; Johnson, then 67, wrote a pamphlet opposing it. 1789-French Revolution; Young Wordsworth then traveling in France. I 800-Wordsworth's

Lyrical Ballads (approximate)

1821-Keats died, aged 26; Shelley died at 30 in 1822; Byron died at 36 in I 824. Tennyson's life ( I 809-1 892) spans nearly the whole I 9th century 1882-1 888-Joyce, Williams, Pound, Moore, Eliot, Lewis all born in this half-decade I 901-death

of Queen Victoria

1922-Joyce's Ulysses, Eliot's The Waste Land published (Pound's Cantos under way)

Traditions

logical order, of period modulating into period, style into style, fashion into fashion, without cataclysmic gestures of originality. Unless we bear it in mind, we are likely to suppose that the poems of a certain age, in their curious homogeneity of style, merely "express their time," and give something called "the spirit of the age" credit for a similarity of approach which was much more influenced by the state of literary tradition. For all the poets who were writing in 1820, literary history came to a provisional end in I 820. 4. Every poet develops, to a greater or lesser extent, during his lifetime; each new poem is for him a new enterprise. It follows that his latcr work will not only be more accomplished, ~ r o b a b more l ~ inclusive, than his earlier; it will also, to some extent, take our knowledge of his earlier work for granted. You can't know an important poet by reading samples, though once you know him as a whole you can illustrate remarks about his methods by citing samples. Some poets, having worked clear of the very early period in which they were imitating forerunners, and having established a personal manner, simply master the art of repeating themselves with greater and greater fluency. Others, like Shakespeare, may be seen breaking new ground in their last work. T h e standard set by Shakespeare is that of a continuous develop ment from first to last, a development in which the choice both of theme and of dramatic and verse technique in each play seems to be determined increasingly by Shakespeare's state of feeling, by the particular stage of his emotional maturity at the time. . . . T h e full meaning of any one of his plays is not in itself alone, but in that play in the order in which it was written, in its relation to all of Shakespeare's other plays, earlier and later: we must know all of Shakespeare's work in order to know any of it. -T. S. ELIOT,in "John Ford," 1932

A book like the present one is no substitute for even a modest library. T h e purpose of this section is to guide your further explorations. You can learn a great deal from even a general anthology of short and medium-length poems arranged in chronological order. An accurate sense of who came in which century will obviate much confusion. T h e following chronology can be expanded as you acquire additional data.

283

Traditions

283

CHRONOLOGY

1300-date to which Dante assigned his vision I 400-death

of Chaucer

I 600-Hamlet

(approximate)

Shakespeare: I 564-16 I 6 Marlowe : I 564-1 593 Donne: 1573-1631 (Note that Donne in his late twenties could have attended performances of Shakespeare's plays.)

Paradise Lost, written in the middle of the I 7th century, published 1667 1700-Death of Dryden; Pope then 12 years old 1776-American Revolution; Johnson, then 67, wrote a pamphlet opposing it. 1789-French Revolution; Young Wordsworth then traveling in France. I 800-Wordsworth's

Lyrical Ballads (approximate)

1821-Keats died, aged 26; Shelley died at 30 in 1822; Byron died at 36 in I 824. Tennyson's life ( I 809-1 892) spans nearly the whole I 9th century 1882-1 888-Joyce, Williams, Pound, Moore, Eliot, Lewis all born in this half-decade I 901-death

of Queen Victoria

1922-Joyce's Ulysses, Eliot's The Waste Land published (Pound's Cantos under way)

284

Traditions

Traditions

ADAM LAY IBOWNDYN

H e cam also stylle T o his moderes b o w As dew in Aprille That fallyt on the flour;

Anonymous, early fifteenth century Adam lay ibowndyn, bowndyn in a bond fowr thowsand wynter thowt he not to long; and a1 was for an appil, an appil that he tok, as clerkes fyndyn wretyn in here book. N e hadde the appil take ben, the appil taken ben, ne hadde never our lady a ben Hevene qwen. Blyssid be the tyme that appil take was! therfore we mown syngyn

H e cam also stylle There his moder lay As dew in Aprille That fallyt on the spray; Moder and maydyn Was never non but sche; Well may swych a lady Godes moder be.

CAROL

Ronald Dulzcnlz, 1950

Deo gracias. 8. here: their.

I

5. m o w n : may well.

"Clerkes" (line 7) are clerics. Is there an air of comedy hereabouts in the poem? Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection Christ visited Hell and set free the deserving souls that had been detained there since Adam's time. Medieval writers found this theme (the Harrowing of Hell) intensely interesting, partly because they felt on terms of familiar kinship with Adam and the patriarchs. Our preoccupation with manners and costume goes with our feeling that the past-let alone the age of the patriarchs-is too remote for more than academic interest.

I SYNG OF A MAYDEN Anonymous carol, c. 1450

That is makeles; Kyng of alle kynges T o here Sonit sche ches.

5

H e cam also stylle There his moder was As dew in Aprylle T h a t fallyt on the gras; peerless; also, without a mate.

4.

ches: chose.

H e was as gentle I n repose As dew in April Lies in the rose. H e was as gentle At His birth As dew in April touches the earth. H e was as gentle At her breast AS dew in April Falls to its rest.

I syng of a mayden

3. makeles:

This song's to a girl, It's to her Whom Jesus Christ chose For His Mother.

5 , also: as.

There has never been Any other more fitted to be Jesus's Mother. (Adapted from a fifteenth-centurycarol, author unknown)

285

286

Traditions

Questions 1 . Does the modern version reproduce the "weight" (if not necessarily the exact sense) of the ancient one, or has something been lost? Duncan's even-numbered lines are shorter than the corresponding lines in his original. What effect has this on the tone of his version? Do you feel that he is making an undue effort to be simple? Do you feel that the original is? 2. What is the difference between mayden and girl? Does it matter to the poem? 3. It is a mistake to suppose that quaint spelling alone accounts for the special quality of medieval verse. It is also a mistake to regard it as childlike or na'ive. Which of these two versions reads more like a children's poem? Why?

The Pastoral

Lnnnm

Tvadition

T h e remainder of this section contains a few practical illustrations of the introductory remarks. T h e next group of poems illustrates the uses to which the same poetic convention-the "pastoral" form whose origins are in Greek and Roman antiquity-has been put by a succession of poets writing in different generations and with different purposes in view. It ends with a poem which, although not formally a part of the pastoral tradition, would ~ r o b a b lhave ~ been conceived very differently if the tradition hadn't existed.

ROUNDELAY

Edmund Syenser, I 579 PERIGOT.

WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT.

WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT.

286

It fell upon a holy eve, Hey ho, holiday! When holy fathers wont to shrieve; NOWgynneth this roundelay. Sitting upon a hill so high, Hey ho, the high hill! T h e while my flock did feed thereby, T h e while the shepherd self did spill; I saw the bouncing Bellibone Hey ho, Ronibell! Tripping over the dale alone,

8. spill: injure.

9. Bellibone: belle et bonne.

JJJWI

The Pastoral

Traditions

Questions 1 . Does the modern version reproduce the "weight" (if not necessarily the exact sense) of the ancient one, or has something been lost? Duncan's even-numbered lines are shorter than the corresponding lines in his original. What effect has this on the tone of his version? Do you feel that h e is making an undue effort to be simple? Do you feel that the original is? 2. What is the difference between mayden and girl? Does it matter to the poem? 3. It is a mistake to suppose that quaint spelling alone accounts for the special quality of medieval verse. It is also a mistake to regard it as childlike or nai've. Which of these two versions reads more like a children's poem? Why?

Tradition

T h e remainder of this section contains a few practical illustrations of the introductory remarks. T h e next group of poems illustrates the uses to which the same poetic convention-the "pastoral" form whose origins are in Greek and Roman antiquity-has been put by a succession of poets writing in different generations and with different purposes in view. It ends with a poem which, although not formally a part of the pastoral tradition, would probably have been conceived very differently if the tradition hadn't existed.

ROUNDELAY

Edmund Spenser, I 579 PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT.

8 . spill: injure.

It fell upon a holy eve, Hey ho, holiday! When holy fathers wont to shrieve; NOWgynneth this roundelay. Sitting upon a hill so high, Hey ho, the high hill! T h e while my flock did feed thereby, T h e while the shepherd self did spill; I saw the bouncing Bellibone Hey ho, Ronibell! Tripping over the dale alone,

9. Bellibone: belle et bonne.

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Traditions WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT.

The Pastoral Tradition

She can trip it very well: Well decked in a frock of gray, Hey ho, gray is greete! And in a kirtle of green saye, T h e green is for maidens meet. A chapelet on her head she wore, Hey ho, chapelet! Of sweet violets therein was store, She sweeter than the violet. My sheep did leave their wonted food, Hey ho, silly sheep! And gazed on her as they were wood, Wood as he that did them keep. As the bonilasse passed by, Hey ho, bonilasse! She rou'd at me with glancing eye As clear as the crystal glass. All as the sunny beam so bright, Hey ho, the sun beam! Glanceth from Phoebus' face forthright, So love into thy heart did stream: Or as the thunder cleaves the clouds Hey ho, the thunder! levin shrouds, Wherein the lightsome So cleaves thy soul asunder. Or as Dame Cynthia's silver ray Hey ho, the moonlight! Upon the glittering wave doth play Such play is a piteous plight; T h e glance into my heart did glide Hey ho, the glider! Therewith my soul was sharply gride. Such wounds soon waxen wider. Hasting to raunch the arrow out, Hey ho, Perigot! I left the head in my heart-root, It was a desperate shot. There it rankleth ay more and more Hey ho, the arrow! N e can I find salve for my sore :

14. greete: mourning. 27. rou'd: shot an arrow. 4 5 . raunch: wrench.

I

5 . saye: fine cloth.

35. levin: lightning.

WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE. PERIGOT.

WILLIE. PERIGOT. WILLIE.

PERIGOT. WILLIE.

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From the Shepherd's Calendar, August 64. prief: proof.

At various points Willy's "hey ho" seems to mean "Here we go again," as yet another predictable image turns up. Elsewhere we find him slipping in ahead of Perigot and supplying the climaxes (line 32, for example). They are improvising as they go along, competing for a prize the match ends in a draw. This is not to be mistaken for a folk poem; Spenser was a soldier, scholar, diplomat, and courtier.

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE

Clzristopher Marlowe

a

(I

p3), p b . I 599

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

p

23. wood: mad. 43. g~ide:

Love is a cureless sorrow. And though my bale with death I bought, Hey ho, heavy cheer! Yet should thilk lass not from my thought, SOyou may buy gold too dear. But whether in painful love I pine, Hey ho, pinching pain! Or thrive in wealth, she shall be mine. But if thou can her obtain. And if for graceless grief I die, Hey ho graceless grief! Witness she slew me with her eye: Let thy folly be the prief. And you that saw it, simple sheep, Hey ho, the fair flock! For prief thereof, my death shall weep. And moan with many a mock. SOlearned I love on a holy eve, Hey ho, holiday. That ever since my heart did grieve. NOWendeth our roundelay.

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prove: try OUL

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And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers and a kirtle Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle: A gown made of the finest wool, Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold: A belt of straw and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. T h e shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love. Gold, coral, amber (not the colors but the materials) along with the wool and the flowers; by line 16 we know that this "passionate shepherd" is a literary fiction. How early in the poem do you begin to suspect that Marlowe is depicting a world for courtiers to escape into? Though speech rhythms soon slip in, the first two lines establish a shepherd's-pipe lilt. Consider the effect on the tone of this rhythm, and of the frequency with which rhymes are encountered. Is the rhyme-word ever surprising? What degree of earnestness do you hear in the speaker's promises? Is it the tone of a man promising minks and caviar? Are there any hints that the speaker expects her to regard the shepherd's life as a charming game? Is the reader meant to do the same? T h e next poem, written about thirty-five years later, exhibits another facet of the pastoral's capacity for taking the curse off situations so portentous that the usual recourse is to be inarticulate.

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LYClDAS

John Milton, I 637

In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend [Edward King], unfortunately drown'd in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1 6 3 7 And by occasion foretels the ruine o f our corrupted Clergy t h e n i n their height. Yet once more, 0 ye Laurels, and once mcre Ye A4yrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear, I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer: W h o would not sing for Lycidas? he well knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. H e must not flote upon his watry bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of som melodious tear. Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, So may some gentle Aduse With lucky words favour my destin'd Urn And as he passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shrewd. For we were nurst upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high Lawns appear'd Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, W e drove a field, and both together heard What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn, Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of niqht, Oft till the Star that rose, at EvJning, bright Toward Heav'ns descent had slopld his westering wheel. Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute, Temper'd to th'Oaten Flute, Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'a heel,

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From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damaetas lov'd to hear our song. But 0 the heavy change, now thou art gon, Now thou art gon, and never must return! Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o'regrown, And all their echoes mourn. T h e Willows, and the Hazle Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes. As killing as the Canker to the Rose, O r Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze, O r Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, W h e n first the White-thorn blows; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear. Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream: Ay me, I fondly dream! H a d ye bin there . . . for what could that have don? What could the hluse her self that Orpheus bore, T h e Muse her self, for her inchanting son Whom Universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His goary visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore. Alas! what boots it with uncessant care T o tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade, And strictly meditate the thankles Muse, Were it not better don as others use, T o sport with Amaryllis in the shade, O r withe the tangles of Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of Noble mind) T o scorn delights, and live laborious dayes; But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, Phoebus replild, and touch'd my trembling ears;

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Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to th'world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes, And perfet witnes of all-judging love; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed. 0 Fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd floud, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocall reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my Oate proceeds, And listens to the Herald of the Sea That came in Neptune's plea, H e ask'd the Waves, and ask'd the Fellon Winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? And question'd every gust of rugged wings T h a t blows from off each beaked Promontory; They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, T h a t not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd, T h e Ayr was calm, and on the level brine, Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. It was that fatal1 and perfidious Bark Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe. Ah! W h o hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge? Last came, and last did go, T h e Pilot of the Galilean lake, Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain, (The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain) H e shook his Miter'd locks, and stern bespake, How well could I have spar'd for thee young swain, Anow of such as for their bellies sake, Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold? Of other care they little reck'ning make, Than how to scramble at the shearer's feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; I 14. Anow: enough.

The Pastoral Tradition

Traditions

From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damaetas lov'd to hear our song. But 0 the heavy change, now thou art gon, Now thou art gon, and never must return! Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, W i t h wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o'regrown, And all their echoes mourn. T h e Willows, and the Hazle Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes. As killing as the Canker to the Rose, O r Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze, Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, W h e n first the White-thorn blows; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear. Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly, Nor on the shaggy top of M o n a high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream: Ay me, I fondly dream! Had ye bin there . . . for what could that have don? W h a t could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore, T h e Muse her self, for her inchanting son Whom Universal nature did lament, W h e n by the rout that made the hideous roar, His goary visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore. Alas! what boots it with uncessant care T o tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade, And strictly meditate the thankles Muse, Were it not better don as others use, T o sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or withe the tangles of Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of Noble mind) T o scorn delights, and live laborious dayes; But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, Phoebus repli'd, and touch'd my trembling ears;

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to th'world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes, And perfet witnes of all-judging love; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in Heav'n expect thy meed. 0 Fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd floud, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocall reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood: But now my Oate proceeds, And listens to the Herald of the Sea That came in Neptune's plea, H e ask'd the Waves, and ask'd the Fellon Winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain? And question'd every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked Promontory; They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd, T h e Ayr was calm, and on the level brine, Sleek Panope with all her sisters playld. It was that fatal1 and perfidious Bark Built in th9eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe. Ah! W h o hath reft (quoth he) my dearest ledge? Last came, and last did go, T h e Pilot of the Galilean lake, Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain, (The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain) H e shook his hqiter'd locks, and stern bes~ake, How well could I have spar'd for thee young swain, Anow of such as for their bellies sake, Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold? Of other care they little reck'ning make, Than how to scramble at the shearer's feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; I 14. Anow:

enough.

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Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold A Sheep-hook, or have learn'd ought els the least That to the faithful1 Herdmans art belongs! What recks it themi What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrani,el Pipes of wretched straw, T h e hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing sed, But that two-handed engine at the door, Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; Return Sicilian Muse, And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low where the milde whispers use, Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, O n whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes, That on the green terf suck the honied showres, And purple all the ground with vernal flowres. Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies, T h e tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine, T h e white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat, T h e glowing Violet, T h e Musk-rose, and the well-attir'd Woodbine, With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed, And Daffadillies fill their cups with tears, T o strew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies. For so to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurld, Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world; Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd, 119. list: choose.

142.rathe: early.

I20

Sleepst by the fable of B~?llerusold, Where the great vision of the guarded Mount Looks toward h'anzancos and Bayona's hold; Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth, And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth. Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar, So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore, Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves; Where other groves, and other streams along, With Nectar pure his oozy Locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial1 Song, In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet Societies That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good T o all that wander in that perilous flood. Thus sang the uncouth Swain to thlOkes and rills, While the still morn went out with Sandals gray, H e touch'd the tender stops of various Quills, With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay: And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills, And now was dropt into the Western bay; At last he rose, and twitch'd his Mantle blew; T o morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.

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This poem's artificiality (shepherds, "Oaten flute," nymphs, and so on) has been complained of. All writing is radically artificial. "Jack threw the ball to Will" imposes a symmetrical shape and three grammatical categories on a bit of spontaneous play. "My good friend is dead and I miss him" is a statement just as artificial as Lycidas and considerably less expressive. If you doubt this, try to write down an expression OF your true feelings about anything whatever. If what you write satisfies you, it will be because of the arrangement, balance and energy of the

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written words, not because of their correspondence with your emotion. W h e n a poet makes frank and explicit use of a traditional situation or set of human relationships as a framework for what he wants to do, he is said to employ a convention. Nlilton's convention is the pastoral (from the Latin word for shepherd). It was used before him by Spenser in English, by Vergil in Latin, and by Theocritus and Moschus in Greek. Every time a convention is used it becomes-up to a point-more useful to the next writer who employs it. This is because its usefulness depends on its familiarity; it serves to get a great many aspects of the writer's subject out of the way without explicit treatment on his part. Thus Milton doesn't need to go into his relationship with King and then try to submerge the merely personal features of that relationship. T h e convention of the two shepherds establishes his right to speak as an intimate of the deceased, as a fellow poet, a fellow scholar (for six years at Christ's College, Cambridge), and as one who shared the religious concerns of the young clergyman whose death is being lamented. (Note that Milton adds the Christian traditions of shepherd and flock to the convention he is employing.) T h e poem still bears certain marks of having been written for publication in a commemorative volume circulated among friends of the deceased. Lines 88-102 have little to do with the structure of Lycidas; they are intelligible when we know that King's ship foundered mysteriously on a clear August day. Camus (line 103) is the god of the river Cam, attending the obsequies to represent Cambridge. Damaetas (line 36) conceals the identity of some Cambridge don. Mona and Deva (lines 54-55) are old names for the island of Anglesea and the River Dee, between which the ship sank. T h e geography of lines 156-162 is equally special; a body drowned in the Irish Sea might have been washed north toward the Hebrides, or south toward Land's End (the Bellerus of line 160). "The guarded Mount" is St. Michael's Mount on the Cornish coast, facing toward Bayona and the Namancos Mountains in the northwest corner of Spain. Orplzeus (line 58) was murdered by drunken worshipers of Bacchus on the shores of the I-Iebrus in Thrace. His head floated to Lesbos and endowed the inhabitants with the gift of song. T h e "Fountain Arethuse" (line 85) in Sicily was the form into which the nymph Arethusa was changed to save her from the pursuit of the river-god Alpheus (line I 32). T h e poem abounds in water images. Milton's talent for memorable sonorities is evident in the first line. Is the opening sentence speech, declamation, intonation, or what? Can you find instances of the precise word being sacrificed to the word that

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assists the cadence? Of how many poems \vith which you are acquainted would "build the lofty rhyme" (line 1 I ) be a good description?

From THE SHEPHERD'S WEEK Monday, or The Squabble John Gay, 1 7 1 4

CUDDY:Hold, witless Lobbin Cloztt, I thee advise, Lest blisters sore on thy own tongue arise. Lo ~ o n d e Cloddipole, r the blithesome swain, T h e wisest lout of all the neighbouring plain! From Cloddipole we learnt to read the skies, T o know when hail will fall, or winds arise. H e taught us erst the heifer's tail to view, When stuck aloft, that show'rs would strait ensue; H e first that useful secret did explain, That pricking corns foretold the gath'ring rain. When swallows fleet soar high and sport in air, H e told us that the welkin would be clear. Let Cloddipole then hear us twain rehearse, And praise his sweetheart in alternate verse. I'll wager this same oaken staff with thee That Cloddipole shall give the prize to me. LOBBIN CLOUT: See this tobacco-pouch that's lin'd with hair, Made of the skin of sleekest fallow deer. This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddest hue, I'll wager, that the prize shall be my due. CUDDY: Begin thy carrols then, thou vaunting slouch, Be thine the oaken staff, or mine the pouch. LOBBIN CLOUT: My Blouzelinda is the blithest lass, Than primrose sweeter, or the clover-grass. Fair is the king-cup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisie that beside her grows, Fair is the gillyflow'r, of gardens sweet, Fair is the mary-gold, for pottage meet. But Blouzelind's than gillyflow'r more fair, Than daisie, mary-gold, or king-cup rare. . . CUDDY: AS my Buxoma in a morning fair, With gentle finger stroak'd her milky care, I queintly stole a kiss; at first, 'tis true, She frown'd, yet after granted one or two.

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The Pastoral Tradition

Lobbin, I swear, believe who will my vows, Her breath by far excell'd the breathing cows.

...

35

For Spenser, transposing classical shepherds to the English countryside was a learned and impassioned delight. For Gay, now that mock shepherds have inhabited English verse for 135 years, the genre is an occasion for farce. W e aren't in the shepherd world; in lines 5-12 a citv man in an age of enlightenment is parodying rustic wisdom. With line 2 3 a parody of inept poetry begins. T h e reader is meant to know the literary score. T h e shepherds in the poem are by definition those who don't know it. They set about their hand-me-down lists of similes with an endearing innocence. By now ( 1 7 1 ~ )it is possible to be very knowing about the English pastoral form. It is a music box to be expertly manufactured in an age of oratorios, with a few false notes deliberately inserted as a joke on people whose taste still hasn't gotten past music boxes. T h e next significant use of the form you may find in M'illiam Carlos Williams's Paterson, Book IV, where with still greater sophistication it is used to give an air of raddled charm to a middle-aged Lesbian's banter with a young masseuse.

ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE John Keats, 1 8 r 9

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, 'The weariness, the fever, and the fret, Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs; Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains lZIy sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied somc dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness,That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, I n some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows T h e grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorne, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-A4ay's eldest child, T h e coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, T h e murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

0,for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, T o take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, T o cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!

Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth! 0 for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth;

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Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vainT o thy high requiem become a sod. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! N o hungry generations tread thee down; T h e voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; T h e same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell T o toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, U p the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:-Do I wake or sleep?

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removed her tongue so she could make no accusations. Transformed into a bird, she pours forth her woes in song, which of course no one understands clearly. How does the song born out of bitter persecution lend itself to Keats's purposes? T h e use of the short line in each stanza, and the content of lines 45-49, may owe something to lines 139--150 of Lycidas. Keats appears to be systematizing some of the effects obtained by Milton's irregular rhyme scheme. Note that the rhymes come with seesaw predictability in the first half of each stanza; but lines 5, 6, and 7 of the stanza introduce three completely new sounds before there is a recurrence, and the recurrence comes with the added surprise of a very short line. In some stanzas-notably stanza 6-the last line has very nearly the effect of an unrhymed (that is, unforeseeable) climax. How does the imperfect rhyme die-ecstasy assist this effect?

TO WELCOME IN THE SPRING John Lyly, 1580

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Questions I . "Hemlock" (line 2) was the poison his executioners gave Socrates. Why does Keats specify it in preference to some other potion? What other details in stanza r establish a Greek background? At what point in the poem does he first characterize the England in which he is writing 2. What connects the second stanza with the first? 3 - . Is the mental landscape of stanzas 4 and 5 related to anything earlier in the poem? 4. What happens between lines 58 and 59? What connects line 60 and line 6 I ?

"Nightingale, a small bird of the thrush family, plain in appearance and shy in habits, but having a song of the sweetest quality, often heard at night.'' Keats is establishing certain obvious connections between the nightingale and the poet. His emotional adventures in this poem are prompted partly by the nightingale's prestige (see stanza 7), which in turn is connected with the Greek legend about how she got her voice. She was originally a maiden named Philomela. Tereus raped her and

What Bird so sings, yet so dos wayle? 0 'tis the rauish'd Nightingale. lug, lug, lug, Iug, tereu, shee cryes, And still her woes at Midnight rise. Braue prick song! who is't now we heare? None but the Larke so shrill and cleare; How at heauen's gats she claps her wings, T h e Morne not waking till shee sings. Heark, heark, with what a pretty throat Poore Robin red-breast tunes his note; EIeark how the iolly Cuckoes sing Cuckoe, to welcome in the spring, Cuckoe, to welcome in the spring. "Prick song" (line 5) : not extempore, but following notes written down. Lyly, not being committed to the idea that the bird is pouring forth its soul abroad, notes that it sticks to its script and himself attempts a transcription. "Tereu" may be the bird's attempt to pronounce "Tereus." Is Lyly unsympathetic toward the bird, or simply detached? Could Keats have incorporated "Jug, Jug, Jug, tereu" into his poem? What does that tell you about his poem? about I-yly's? Keats belonged to the first generation in England to conceive poetry as essentially concerned with "ecstasy and crisis." That this may be a

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misleading conception of the scope of poetry does not necessarily invalidate the poems written under its sway. Not only the details of rhyming and diction we have mentioned, but the cumulative rhetoric of Keats's O d e nlay be in large measure attributed to the example of Lycidas. Keats is "building the lofty rhyme." But obviously the pastoral machinery of Lycidas was of no conceivable use to him: not only because Keats was the kind of poet he was, but because the machinery itself was approximately in the condition in which Gay had left it a century before.

'THE NIGHTINGALE, AS SOON AS APRIL BRINGETH"

Sir Philip Sidney, I 598 T h e nightingale, as soon as April bringeth Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, While late bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth, Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making; And mournfully bewailing, H e r throat in tunes expresseth W h a t grief her breast oppresseth For Tereus' force on her chaste will prevailing. 0 Philomela fair! Oh, take some gladness T h a t here is juster cause of plaintful sadness. Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth; T h y thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth. Alas, she hath no other cause of anguish But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand wroken, Wherein she suffereth, all her spirits languish; Full womanlike complains her will was broken. But I, who daily craving, Cannot have to content me, Have more cause to lament me, Since wanting is more woe than too much hzving. 0 Philomela fair! O h take some gladness That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness. T h i n e earth now springs, mine fadeth; T h y thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.

5

10

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20

Not pastoral, but inhabiting, as Keats does not, a civilization in which it was natural to move into pastoral for a variety of lyric purposes. Keats

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starts, "My heart aches." Where does Sidney start? W h e n does he introduce his own troubles? Is he depressed by something in particular, or just Keatsian Angst? N o one is going to claim that this is a "greater" poem than the O d e to a Nightingale; but its qualities throw light on the limitations of Keats's method. All methods have limitations.

A Poet Develops

~mnnA

Poet Develops

T h e next group of examples focuses on a single poet's development, from his early work to the work of his maturity. T h e poet is Alexander Pope (1688-17~4). A few extracts from other writers are employed as measuring points. Though Pope is the greatest master of the iambic pentameter couplet, what he brings to perfection is not the couplet itself but his own way of using it. Even so apparently limited a form contains many resources that were inaccessible to Pope, or that lay outside his specialized intentions. N o poet can exhaust a form, though he can so fully master it for his own purposes that its resources for generations afterward seem limited to the use he made of them. Pope had the same effect on the couplet that Shakespeare had on poetic drama. TO THE DAWN THAT IT HASTEN NOT Christopher Marlowe, c. I ~ g o

Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she T h a t draws the day from heaven's cold axle-tree. Aurora, whither slidest thou? down again, And birds for Memnon yearly shall be slain. Now in her tender arms I sweetly bide, If ever, now well lies she by my side. T h e air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough: Whither runn'st thou, that men and women love not? Hold in thy rosy horses that they move not. 304

5

10

Ere thou rise, stars teach seamen where to sail, But when thou comest, they of their courses fail. Poor travellers, though tir'd, rise at thy sight, And soldiers make them ready to the fight. T h e painful hind by thee to field is sent; Slow oxcn early in the yoke are pent. Thou cozen'st boys of sleep, and dost betray them T o pedants that with cruel lashes pay them. Thou mak'st the surety to the lawyer run, T h a t with one word hath nigh himself undone. T h e lawyer and the client hate thy view, Both whom thou raisest up to toil anew. By thv means women of their rest are barr'd, Thou set'st their labouring hands to spin and card. All could I bear; but that the wench should rise W h o can endure, save him with whom none lies? How oft wish'd I night would not give thee place, Nor morning stars shun thy uprising face. How oft that either wind would break thy coach, Or steeds might fall, forc'd with thick clouds' approach. Whither goest thou, hateful nymph? Memnon the elf Receiv'd his coal-black colour from thyself. Say that thy love with Cephalus were not known, Then thinkest thou thy loose life is not shown? Would Tithon might but talk of thee awhile, Not one in heaven should be more base and vile. Thou leavest his bed, because he's faint through age, And early mountest thy hateful carriage. But held'st thou in thy arms some Cephalus, Then would'st thou cry, 'Stay night, and run not thus.' Dost punish me, because years make him wane? I did not bid thee wed an aged swain. T h e moon sleeps with Endymion every day, Thou art as fair as she, then kiss and play. Jove, that thou should'st not haste but wait his leisure, Made two nights one to finish up his pleasure. I chid no more; she blush'd and therefore heard me, Yet lingered not the day, but morning scar'd me. Translation of Ovid's Amores, i, I 3

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25

30

40

45

Marlowe translated the Amores while still an undergraduate at Cambridge. One edition was publicly burnt by order of the Archbishop of

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Canterbury and the Bishop of London in 15.99,six years after the translator's death at 29. Note that no sentence runs past the end of a couplet. What does this do to the pace of the whole? How many devices for slowing the movement can you find in the first two lines? How many lines begin with four accented syllables and a pause? I

l

l

I

(How oft wished I//

/

I

/

/

, I chid no more// , . .

.)

Notice that the couplet in Marlowe's hands has no tendency whatever to break apart into two-line epigrams. Try to account for this. None of the eighteenth-century couplet-specialists approaches his ability to maintain an unbroken mass of sound; this despite the fact that he breaks the sense at the end of each couplet. Her "old love" is Tithonus, the Tithon of line 35. W h e n the dawngoddess fell in love with him, Zeus granted him immortality but not immortal youth. Naturally, she soon became interested in other men; Cephalus (line 33) was one of them. hlemnon (lines 4, 3 1 ) was her child by Tithonus; his blackness was perhaps due to the sun's fierce rays acting on mortal flesh, but Ovid implies wryly (line 32) that it symbolized his mother's character. T h e poem swings from heaven to earth and back to heaven. I n the middle section (lines 5-26) the diction is less gorgeous. Is the pace more rapid? Lines 5-8 make the transition from Aurora's heaven to the lover's bed. Note the careful parallels: the cold axle-tree, the cold air; Aurora and "her old love," the speaker and "her tender arms"; the sacrificial birds, the birds singing on the bough. O n what word does the main stress fall in line g? What is the tone of this line? Has it the movement of the speaking voice, or of some one poetizing? One is convinced that Aurora is no mythological convenience. Marlowe (and Ovid behind him) writes as though he is perfectly convinced of her personal existence. One isn't tempted to regard the mythological machinery as a fancy way of saying that he wishes it weren't dawn so early. From WINDSOR FOREST

Alexander Pope, I 704 See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:

A Poet Develops

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Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes, T h e vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?

5

In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade, Where cooling vapours breathe along the mead, T h e patient fisher takes his silent stand, Intent, his angle trembling in his hand: With looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed, And eyes the dancing cork, and bending reed. Our plenteous streams a various race supply, T h e bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian dye, T h e silver eel, in shining volumes rolled, ?'he yellow carp, in scales bedropped with gold, Swift trouts, diversified with crimson stains, And pikes, the tyrants of the watery lai ins.

...

20

Pope was sixteen at the alleged date of composition; as published nine years later, the passage had undoubtedly the benefit of much revision. Marlowe pblished his version of Ovid at twenty-six. Is the bird in lines 2-3 a real pheasant or an abstraction with human attributes? W h y "exultant"? W h y "triumphant"? Is Pope projecting onto the bird the feelings he would have if he were able to fly? Compare Marlowe's "And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough." What would be the effect on Marlowe's poem if he had written, "The feathered choir their tuneful matins raise"? Pope's bird is exultant, his spring is genial, his "vapours" breathe. Compare with line 1 0 Marlowe's "The air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now." Reluctance to state the plain facts is part of the convention in which Pope was trained. It goes with the habit of mind that writes, "The patient fisher takes his silent stand." Is there any reason why the stand should be silent rather than the fisherman? Or is Pope simply giving the line an obvious kind of balance? How many lines can you find with an adjective in each half (vivid green // shining plumes // and so on)? How many of these adjectives could be suppressed without detriment to the sense? I n lines 9-20 Pope avoids the word "fish" entirely. "Scaly breed" is as close as he comes. Are there other instances in the passage of periphrasis

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and abstraction of this kind? What degree of close observation do the details testify to? Could you draw a picture of a trout from the information in line I g? Pope's verse is "polished" from attention to sound and a relentless avoidance of the obvious; he wouldn't have written "the air is cold." Within this convention he developed magnificently; it would be foolish to call Marlowe the more important poet. T h e extremely small range of effects within the limits of which Pope was developing dexterity at an age when Marlowe was making his translation of the Amores is a perfect illustration of the crippling effect of bad models. Marlowe was trying to register the experience of reading the Latin; Pope was learning to give an accomplished performance by criteria he took from men only specialists today have heard of. By the time he received the couplet it had been turned into a neat vehicle for elegant poetizing.

Just ~ u b l i s h ' d , T h e Art of English Poetry, containing, I. Rules for making Verses. 11. A Collection of the most natural, agreeable, and sublime Thoughts, viz. Allusions, Similes, Descriptions and Characters of Persons and Things that are to be found in the best English Poets. 111. f-Dictionary of Rhymes. By Edward Bysshe, Gent. T h e Fourth Edition, 8vo. Printed for Sam. Buckley, at the Dolphin in Little Britain, and Sold by the Booksellers. -Advertisement in the Spectator, London, May 28,17 1 I Not a flash in the pan, but a work of which three editions had sold out. A substantial public in Pope's day regarded verse writing as an elegant accomplishment in which it was desirable to become proficient: compare the twentieth-century status of bridge. What else can you deduce from this advertisement?

From COOPER'S HILL

Sir J o h n Denham, I 642

ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF A N UNFORTUNATE LADY

Alexander Pope, 1 7 I 7 My eye, descending from the hill, surveys Where Thames among the winding valleys strays; Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons By his old sire, to his embraces runs, Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity. Though with those streams he no resemblance hold Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold, His genuine and less guilty wealth t'explore, Search not his bottom, but survey his shore, O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing, And hatches plenty for th'ensuing spring; . .

.

5

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.

A sample of what existed for the young Pope to read with admiration. T h e thing actually present to the senses is first concealed by personification and then handed over to moralizing. Note the pervasive weakness of conception; a river doesn't stray (line 2 ) unless you think of it as a person; but the bottom in line 10,despite the adjacent his, must be a river's. In line 1 1 the Thames has turned into a benign bird. Though Pope absorbs Denham's conventions (and several others, notably the convention that every noun needs an adjective), he manages, sacrificing much of Denham's meditative blandness, to stay considerably closer to the presented object.

309

What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade Invites my step, and points to yonder glade? 'Tis she!-but why the bleeding bosom gor'd, Why dimly gleams the visionary sword? O h ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell, Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well? T o bear too tender, or too firm a heart, T o act a Lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think, or bravely die? W h y bade ye else, ye Powers! her soul aspire Above the vulgar flight of low desire? Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes; T h e glorious fault of Angels and of Gods: Thence to their Images on earth it flows, And in the breasts of Kings and Heroes glows! Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age, Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage: Dim lights of life that burn a length of years, Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres; Like Eastern Kings a lazy state they keep, And close confin'd to their own palace, sleep.

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Traditions

From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die) Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. As into air the purer spirits flow, And sep'rate from the kindred dregs below; So flew the soul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her Race. But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood! See on these ruby lips th2 trembling breath, These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death: Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall: O n all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates. There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) Lo these were they, whose souls the Furies steel'd, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. Thus unlamented pass the proud away, T h e gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe. What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade!) T h y fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? N o friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier; By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd! What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe T o midnight dances, and the publick show? What tho' no weeping Loves thy ashes grace, Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face? W h a t tho' no sacred earth allow thee room, Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb? Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest, And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:

A Poet Develops

31 1

There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade T h e ground, now sacred by thy reliques made. So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, T o whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; T i s all thou art, and all the proud shall be! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung; Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays, Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart, Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, T h e Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!

65

70

75

80

Four years after the publication of Windsor Forest; Pope is now twen ty-nine. There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; (lines 65-66) T h e air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough. -Marlo~ve

I

k I

Compared with Marlowe's "the air is cold," Pope's morn bestowing tears is still at a considerable remove from what actually happens (cf. his "cooling vapours breathe along the mead"-Windsor Forest); Pope doesn't move from sensation to word, he performs a feat of abstraction with the sensations before seeking the words. But by now he has learned to make a virtue out of what remains among his contemporaries simply a habit of mind. In the Elegy the image of weeping morn doesn't jar because he conceives the Lady for whom morn is weeping in the same operatic way as the image; he isn't struggling to apply "poetical language" to "life," because he now conceives the whole poem as existing in a special world, like a James novel or a Roman play of Shakespeare. And he manages to do this without losing touch with the flexibility of genuine emotion; his success can be gauged from the fact that his contemporaries didn't doubt that this was a real Lady; they wanted to know her name and were put off by an annotator's yarn.

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I

Traditions

From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die) Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. As into air the purer spirits flow, And sep'rate from the kindred dregs below; So flew the soul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her Race. But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood! See on these ruby lips th- trembling breath, These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death: Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall : O n all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates. There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) Lo these were they, whose souls the Furies steel'd, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. Thus unlamented pass the proud away, T h e gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe. What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade!) T h y fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? N o friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier; By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd! W h a t tho' no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe T o midnight dances, and the publick show? W h a t tho' no weeping Loves thy ashes grace, Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face? What tho' no sacred earth allow thee room, Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb? Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest, And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:

31 1

There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade T h e ground, now sacred by thy reliques made. So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, T o whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung; Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays, Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; T h e n from his closing eyes thy form shall part, And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart, Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, T h e Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!

From these perhaps (ere nature bade her die) Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. As into air the purer spirits flow, And sep'rate from the kindred dregs below; So flew the soul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her Race. But thou, false guardian of a charge too good, Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's blood! See on these ruby lips th: trembling breath, These cheeks, now fading at the blast of death: Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before, And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball, T h u s shall your wives, and thus your children fall: O n all the line a sudden vengeance waits, And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates. There passengers shall stand, and pointing say, (While the long fun'rals blacken all the way) Lo these were they, whose souls the Furies steel'd, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. T h u s unlamented pass the proud away, T h e gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow For others' good, or melt at others' woe. What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade!) Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? N o friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier; By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd! What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe T o midnight dances, and the publick show? W h a t tho' no weeping Loves thy ashes grace, Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face? What tho' no sacred earth allow thee room, Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb? Yet shall thy grave with rising flow'rs be drest, And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:

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65

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80

Four years after the publication of Windsor Forest; Pope is now twenty-nine. There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; (lines 65-66) T h e air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough. -Marlowe Compared with Marlowe's "the air is cold," Pope's morn bestowing tears is still at a considerable remove from what actually happens (cf. his "cooling vapours breathe along the meadu-Windsor Forest); Pope doesn't move from sensation to word, he performs a feat of abstraction with the sensations before seeking the words. But by now he has learned to make a virtue out of what remains among his contemporaries simply a habit of mind. In the Elegy the image of weeping morn doesn't jar because he conceives the Lady for whom morn is weeping in the same operatic way as the image; he isn't struggling to apply "poetical language" to "life," because he now conceives the whole poem as existing in a special world, like a James novel or a Roman play of Shakespeare. And he manages to do this without losing touch with the flexibility of genuine emotion; his success can be gauged from the fact that his contemporaries didn't doubt that this was a real Lady; they wanted to know her name and were put off by an annotator's yarn.

1

A Poet Develops

311

There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade T h e ground, now sacred by thy reliques made. So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, W h a t once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, T o whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung; Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays, Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part, And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart, Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er, T h e Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!

65

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80

Four years after the publication of Windsor Forest; Pope is now twen ty-nine. There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; (lines 65-66) T h e air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough. -Marlowe Compared with Marlowe's "the air is cold," Pope's morn bestowing tears is still at a considerable remove from what actually happens (cf. his "cooling vapours breathe along the meadv-Windsor Forest); Pope doesn't move from sensation to word, he performs a feat of abstraction with the sensations before seeking the words. But by now he has learned to make a virtue out of what remains among his contemporaries simply a habit of mind. In the Elegy the image of weeping morn doesn't jar because he conceives the Lady for whom morn is weeping in the same operatic way as the image; he isn't struggling to apply "poetical language" to "life," because he now conceives the whole poem as existing in a special world, like a James novel or a Roman play of Shakespeare. And he manages to do this without losing touch with the flexibility of genuine emotion; his success can be gauged from the fact that his contemporaries didn't doubt that this was a real Lady; they wanted to know her name and were put off by an annotator's yarn.

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Traditions

T h e situation is melodramatically simple; the lady's guardian objected to her lover, and she killed herself. Pope doesn't try to pretend that it isn't melodrama; lines 1-10 are broadly theatrical. DO lines I 1-16 maintain this histrionic pitch? Is the imagery beginning to get too complicated for the theatre? What is the tone of lines 17-1 8? What word does most to determine it? What is the tone of lines 19-20? More solemn? More serious? More orotund? W h a t is the tone of lines 21-22? IS contempt present? Does amusement creep in? W h a t is the image in lines 25-28? IS "spirits" a pun? What function has a pun here? Does it, like a Atarvell pun, blend unexpected feelings, or does it cause the sentiment to topple into burlesque? Are lines 29-46 histrionic in the same broadly stagey way as lines 1-10? T h e "ball" in line 35 is the globe often placed in the hands of statues of Justice. Is there an image in line 37? What is the force of "besiege" (line 38)? of "blacken" (line 40)? Note in lines 48-50 the characteristic balancing of the two halves of each line. Can you find other examples of this in the poem? I n Windsor Forest adjectives are often balanced within the line ("In genial spring, beneath the quivering shade") with little function beyond surface neatness. Is this the case here? Does each word advance the meaning? How exact is the balance? Does it extend to meaning, or just to grammar? What determines the order of lines 51-54? Note the shift of feeling in lines 47-68. Is the opening question answered at the end? How is the ministration of strangers shifted from an indignity to a distinction? What is the tone of line 60? Does "emulate thy face" imply the inadequacy of sepulchres which on other grounds would seem appropriate? What is the effect on the tone of the way "polish'd" carries over to "face"? Is there a balance between the sculp tured Loves of line 59 and the angels of line 677 W h a t happens in lines 69-74? Is this a conventional sentiment? HOW does it reshape the feeling established in lines 63-68? Does the real poem end at line 74, or has the final paragraph a necessary function? Note the strong implication that the Elegy itself will outlast both of them. T h e Lady is largely imaginary, and the poem a tissue of conventions, from classical literature, the stage, and the ballads and romances of the time. Pope's discovery of how to make something moving out of such material was a highly personal triumph; it proved the ruin of imitators who didn't see how it worked.

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From THE DUNCIAD

Alexander Pope, 1728 Swearing and supperless the Hero sate, Blasphemed his Gods, the Dice, and damned his Fate; Then gnawed his pen, then dashed it on the ground, Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound! Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there; Yet wrote and floundered on, in mere despair. Round him much Embryo, much Abortion lay, Aluch future Ode, and abdicated Play; Nonsense precipitate, like running Lead, T h a t slipped through Cracks and Zigzags of the Head, All that on Folly Frenzy could beget, Fruits of dull Heat, and Sooterkins of Wit. Next, o'er his Books his eyes began to roll, In pleasing memory of all he stole, How here he sipped, how there he plundered snug, And sucked all o'er, like an industrious Bug. Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes, and here T h e Frippery of crucified MoliPre; There hapless Shakespeare, )7et of Tibbald sore, Wished he had blotted for himself before. T h e rest on Outside merit but presume, Or serve (like other Fools) to fill a room; . .

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Then he: "Great Tamer of all human art! First in my care, and ever at my heart; Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my Muse began, with whom shall end, 0 thou! of Business the directing soul! T o this our head like bias to the bowl, Which, as more ponderous, made its aim more true, Obliquely waddling to the mark in view: O! ever gracious to perplexed mankind, Still spread a healing mist before the mind; And, lest we err by Wit's wild dancing light, Secure us kindly in our native night. Or, if to W i t some coxcomb make pretence, Guard the sure barrier between that and Sense; ;

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r. Sooterkin: an imaginary kind of afterbirth insultingly attributed to Dutch

women.

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A Poet Develops

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Or quite unravel all the reasoning thread, And hang some curious cobweb in its stead! As, forced from wind-guns, lead itself can fly, And ponderous slugs cut swiftly through the sky; As clocks to weight their nimble motion owe, T h e wheels above urged by the load below: M e Emptiness, and Dulness could inspire, And were my Elasticity and Fire. . .

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pects something like "healing balm" in line 32, and a reference to sunlight or daybreak in line 34. Unaided human reason as a will-o'-the-wisp leading travelers into swamps was a conventional pulpit image; see the opening of Dryden's Religio Laici ( I 6g4). A fundamental Popean device is to launch a conventionally dignified image in the first line of a couplet, and suddenly produce an undignified application in the second; in the fourth book of the Dunciad a scholar evokes the permanence of learning amid seas of contrary opinions :

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Like buoys, that never sink into the flood, O n Learning's surface we but lie and nod.

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"0born in sin, and forth in folly brought! Works damned, or to be damned! (your father's fault) Go, purified by flames ascend the sky, My better and more Christian progeny! Unstained, untouched, and yet in maiden sheets; While all your smutty sisters walk the streets. Ye shall not beg, like gratis-given Bland, Sent with a Pass, and vagrant through the land; Not sail with Ward, to Ape-and-Monkey climes, Where vile Mundungus trucks for viler rhymes: Not sulphur-tipped, emblaze an Alehouse fire; Not wrap up Oranges, to pelt your sire! O! pass more innocent, in infant state, T o the mild Limbo of our Father Tate: Or peaceably forgot, at once be blest In Shadwell's bosom with eternal Rest! Soon to that mass of Nonsense to return, Where things destroyed are swept to things unborn."

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T h e climax of Pope's satiric development is in the fourth book of the

Dunciad (1743). Here in the first book he has discovered the essential devices. W h a t meanings are blended in "profound" (line 4)? in "precipitatev (line g)? What is the force of "much" (line 7)? Lewis Theobald (Tibbald: line I 9) published a Shakespeare Restored in 1726 with many textual emendations. I n line 20 Pope is echoing a remark of Ben Jonson's: "The players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a thousand." Pope assumes the reader's ability to spot a clichk or a Familiar Quotation. What is the "Out-side merit" of books (line 21)? What is the "bias" (line 28) of a bowl? of a head? W h a t does "pond'rous" mean (line 29)'; Look up the etymology of "ponder." Examine the conventional religious imagery of lines 31-34. One ex.

This is not simple deflation; it reapplies to perverted learning an image that remains valid for genuine learning. T h e tricky intellectual analogies of lines 39-44 should be compared with the unexpected emotional shifts in the Ulzfortunate Lady poem. Exactness is the condition of poetry. As the emotion of the Unfortunate Lady was preserved from sentiment by Pope's ability to shape it, wit is here preserved from mere smartness by Pope's ability to sustain it with apparent lack of effort. Is the passage devoid of feeling? Consider the effect of the hero's proud and generous avowal of his true goddess. T h e imagery in lines 45-62 is precisely and technically theological. Man is born in sin, inherits Adam's fault, and must get to heaven, if at all, via purgatory. How do "untouched" and "maiden" interact (line 49)? What is the force of "walk the streets" (line 50)? Does Pope imply that bad books are more innocent if they aren't popular? W h a t will make a bad book popular? With line 51 the analogy shifts to the death of an unbaptized infant; one suspccts that Pope is paraphrasing innumerable sermons. T h e unredeemed innocent goes to Limbo and escapes various adult indignities. Tate and Shadwell were predecessors of the Hero's in the Laureateship. "I would not have the reader too much troubled or anxious, if he cannot decipher thcm; since when he shall have found them out, he will probably know no more of the persons than before."-From Pope's Preface.

Finale to THE DUNCIAD

Alexander Pope, I743

. . . More had she spoke, but yawned-All Nature nods: W h a t Mortal can resist the Yawn of Gods?

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Churches and Chapels instantly it reached; (St. James's first, for leaden G[ilbert] preached) T h e n catched the Schools; the Hall scarce kept awake; T h e Convocation gaped, but could not speak: Lost was the Nation's Sense, nor could be found, While the long solemn Unison went round: Wide, and more wide, it spread o'er all the realm; Even Palinurus nodded at the Helm: T h e Vapour mild o'er each Committee crept; Unfinished Treaties in each Office slept; And Chiefless Armies dozed out the Campaign; And Navies yawned for Orders on the Main. 0 Muse! relate (for you can tell alone, Wits have short Memories, and Dunces none), Relate, who first, who last resigned to rest; Whose heads she partly, whose completely blest; What Charms could Faction, what Ambition lull, T h e Venal quiet, and entrance the Dull; Till drowned was Sense, and Shame, and Right, and Wrong0 sing, and hush the Nations with thy Song! I n vain, in vain-the all-composing Hour Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the Power. She comes! she comes! the sable Throne behold Of Night Primeval and of Chaos old! Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying Rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, T h e meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, T h e sickening stars fade off th'ethereal plain; As Argus' eyes by Hermes' wand opprest, Closed one by one to everlasting rest; T h u s at her felt approach, and secret might, Art after Art goes out, and all is Night. See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of Casuistry heaped o'er her head! Philosophy, that leaned on Heaven before, Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! See Mystery to Mathematics fly! I n vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.

A Poet Develops

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Religion blushing veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public Flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human Spark is left, nor Glimpse divine! Lo! thy dread Empire, CHAOS!is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word: T h y hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall, And universal Darkness buries All. T h e curtain call of the Age of Reason. Nearly all the great poems of the next 150 years have darkness for their setting, and exploit feelings and associations rather than clearly defined images. Palinurus (line 10) was Aeneas's helmsman (Virgil, Aeneid V, last 40 lines). A god put him to sleep and thrust him into the sea. Notice the play between broad wit ("Lost was the Nation's Sense, nor could be found") and the romantic dream-comedy of yawning navies and the long solemn Unison. By line 24 the Muse herself has gone to sleep, and Pope has to carry on alone. T h e whole concluding passage is built about the extinction of Light, climaxing with the undoing of the Creation itself (line 50; cf. Genesis I :3). As sunsets and rainbows (lines 27-28) require the sun, so Fancy can only operate if Reason is functioning somewhere in the vicinity. Wit (line 29) can function without Reason, but only in flashes. T h e fading Arts (line 36) are compared in lines 32-33 to stars, flowers, and the eyes of Argus. W h y are the Arts like stars? Superhuman? Fixed in their configurations? Givers of light? Marks to steer by? W h y are they like flowers? W h y does Pope combine the star and flower images? T h e many-eyed Argus was a watchman. Over what do the Arts watch? Democritus said that Truth (line 37) lay at the bottom of a deep well, whence he had drawn her. W h y does Pope alter the well to a mountain cavern? W h a t is the image in lines 39-40? A shortened ladder? ( T h e First Cause is God.) Does Physic beg defense of Metaphysic because men no longer trust their senses? A Mystery is not an obfuscation but a truth the mind can accept without grasping it. In what department of thought is it usually found? Did Newton's mechanical universe transfer it to mathematics? Are there mathematical mysteries? Line 45 seems to allude to a Vestal Virgin of Rome tending the sacred flame. Does she blush because her sanctities have been invaded? Compare the tone of lines 4 5 and 46. Is the latter slightly comic? What is the

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A Poet Develops BYZANTIUM William Butler Yeats, I930

T h e unpurged images of day recede; T h e Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is, All mere complexities, T h e fury and the mire of human veins. Before me floats an image, man or shade, Shade more than man, more image than a shade: For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth May unwind the winding path; A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death. Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow, Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud I n glory of changeless metal Common bird or petal And all complexities of mire or blood. At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve. Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood, Spirit after spirit! T h e smithies break the flood, T h e golden smithies of the Emperor! Marbles of the dancing floor

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Break bitter furies of complexity, Those images that yet Fresh images beget, T h a t dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

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A Poet Develops

T h e unpurged images of day recede; T h e Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' song After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is, All mere complexities, T h e fury and the mire of human veins. Before me floats an image, man or shade, Shade more than man, more image than a shade: For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth May unwind the winding path; A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death. hliracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miracle than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow, Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud In glory of changeless metal Common bird or petal And all complexities of mire or blood. At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve. Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood, Spirit after spirit! T h e smithies break the flood, T h e golden smithies of the Emperor! Marbles of the dancing floor

40

Yeats wrote some years previously, "I think that if I could be given a month of antiquity and leave to spend it where I chose, I would spend it in Byzantium a little before Justinian opened St. Sophia and closed the I think that in early Byzantium, and' maybe Academy of Plato. never before or since in recorded history, religious, aesthetic and practical life were one, and that architects and artificers-though not, it may be, poets, for language had been the instrument of controversy and must have grown abstract-spoke to the multitude and the few alike. T h e painter and the mosaic worker, the worker in gold and silver, the illuminator of Sacred Books were almost impersonal, almost perhaps without the consciousness of individual design, absorbed in their subject matter and that the vision of a whole people." T h e impersonal "dome" of line 5 is the first image of the quality of Byzantine civilization. W h y is "fury" an attribute of human veins (line 8)? Man returns to dust. Would "The fury and the dust of human veins" be a weaker line? What does "mire" contribute? How does an "image" differ from a "shade" (line I O ) ? Where does the "winding path" lead? A mummy is "superhuman" because it raises the "mere complexities" of the human body to permanence. Its form is abstract, its face impersonal; it is wound in a spiral of cloth. In a note to another Byzantine poem, Yeats wrote, "I have read somewhere that in the Emperor's palace at Byzantium was a tree made of gold and silver, and artificial birds that sang." W h a t use is made of the bird in stanza j? Is there a sense of limitation in its unchanging glory? Consider line 21 : is the emotion behind "scorn" simple or complex? T h e spirits that come to Byzantium by night, liberated of fleshly "complexities" dance in "an agony," not in peace. How does this develop the emotion of line 21? According to one of the books Yeats read, the dolphins carried souls to Paradise. T h e materials for golden birds and boughs would be forged in the Emperor's smithies. Is the "flood" they break that of "fury and mire"? What is the effect of changing the basic image of the Protean from flesh to sea? T h e theme of limitation in stanza 3 and agony in stanza 4 builds up into marine chaos in stanza 5. Does this overwhelm the poet's visionary intellect at the close? Consider the multiple sense of "images" in lines 38-39; flesh begetting flesh, concept in a turmoil begetting concept; even as we are told that its static marbles "break"

Traditions BYZANTIUM William Butler Yeats, I930

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Break bitter furies of complexity, Those images that yet Fresh images beget, That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

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Yeats wrote some years previously, "I think that if I could be given a month of antiquity and leave to spend it where I chose, I would spend it in Byzantium a little before Justinian opened St. Sophia and closed the Academy of Plato. I think that in early Byzantium, and' maybe never before or since in recorded history, religious, aesthetic and practical life were one, and that architects and artificers-though not, it may be, poets, for language had been the instrument of controversy and must have grown abstract-spoke to the multitude and the few alike. T h e painter and the mosaic worker, the worker in gold and silver, the illuminator of Sacred Books were almost impersonal, almost perhaps without the consciousness of individual design, absorbed in their subject matter and that the vision of a whole people." T h e impersonal "dome" of line 5 is the first image of the quality of Byzantine civilization. W h y is "fury" an attribute of human veins (line 8)? Man returns to dust. Would "The fury and the dust of human veins" be a weaker line? What does "mire" contribute? How does an "image" differ from a "shade" (line IO)? Where does the "winding path" lead? A mummy is "superhuman" because it raises the "mere complexities" of the human body to permanence. Its form is abstract, its face impersonal; it is wound in a spiral of cloth. In a note to another Byzantine poem, Yeats wrote, "I have read somewhere that in the Emperor's palace at Byzantium was a tree made of gold and silver, and artificial birds that sang." What use is made of the bird in stanza j? Is there a sense of limitation in its unchanging glory? Consider line 21 : is the emotion behind "scorn" simple or complex? T h e spirits that come to Byzantium by night, liberated of fleshly "complexities" dance in "an agony," not in peace. How does this develop the emotion of line 21? According to one of the books Yeats read, the dolphins carried souls to Paradise. T h e materials for golden birds and boughs would be forged in the Emperor's smithies. Is the "flood they break that of "fury and mire"? What is the effect of changing the basic image of the Protean from flesh to sea? T h e theme of limitation in stanza 3 and agony in stanza 4 builds u p into marine chaos in stanza 5. Does this overwhelm the poet's visionary intellect at the close? Consider the multiple sense of "images" in lines 38-39; flesh begetting flesh, concept in a turmoil begetting concept; even as we are told that its static marbles "break"

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complexity (as a rock breaks the seas?) the Byzantine changelessness vanishes. "And universal Darkness buries All" "The unpurged images of day recede" T h e contrast is not simply accidental; Pope's Light and Darkness have a weight of traditional symbolic meaning that would .have embarrassed Yeats had the tradition not faded so completely in the intervening two centuries. W e have no difficulty in recapturing Pope's assumptions about these images for the purpose of reading Pope, but they are not for us, as they were for him, stones in our unshakable structure of intuition. T h e portentous calm with which Yeats leads us down into the nightworld would have been impossible in the eighteenth century; the opening of Byzantiunz would have had an air of paradox almost impossible to conjure away. From Yeats's poem we may measure the extent to which Pope's terminology leans on an unchallenged tradition. All poetic terminology leans on similar massive unspoken assumptions about the value of this symbol and that, but the traditions slowly change. T h e use of "flame" in Yeats's fourth stanza as an image of unquenchable vitality would have puzzled a generation accustomed to thinking of vital warmth only in terms of an animated body.

T h e following passages from Dryden, Johnson, and Crabbe illustrate uses to which Pope did n o t put the pentameter couplet even within the decorums of eighteenth-century moral satire. 'The Marlowe poem used as a point of reference earlier was not eighteenth-century moral satire at all, but something completely different. W e were actually using it to locate the eighteenth century itself. Dryden came before Pope; Johnson and Crabbe, after. Pope read the Former, and the latter two read him.

CHARACTER OF SHlMEl

J o h n D r y d e n , 1681

. . . But he, though bad, is followed by a worse; T h e wretch who heav'n's anointed dared to curse: Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring Of zeal to God and hatred to his King, Did wisely from expensive sins refrain, And never broke the sabbath, but for gain; Nor ever was he known an oath to vent, O r curse, unless against the government. Thus, heaping wealth by the most ready way Among the Jews, which was to cheat and pray, T h e City, to reward his pious hate Against his master, chose him magistrate.

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His hand a vare of justice did uphold; His neck was loaded with a chain of gold. During his office treason was no crime: T h e sons of Belial had a glorious time; For Shimei, though not prodigal of pelf, Yet loved his wicked neighbour as himself. When two or three were gathered to declaim Against the monarch of Jerusalem, Shimei was always in the midst of them. And if they cursed the King when he was by Would rather curse than break good company. If any durst his factious friends accuse, H e packed a jury of dissenting Jews; Whose fellow-feeling in the godly cause Would free the suffering saint from human laws. For laws are only made to punish those W h o serve the King, and to protect his foes. If any leisure time he had from pow'r (Because 'tis sin to misemploy an hour), His bus'ness was, by writing, to T h a t kings were useless and a clog to trade; And, that his noble style he might refine, N o Rechabite more shunned the fumes of wine. Chaste were his cellars, and his shrieval board T h e grossness of a City feast abhorred; His cooks with long disuse their'trade forgot: Cool was his kitchen though his brains were hot. Such frugal virtue malice may accuse, But sure 'twas necessary to the Jews; For towns once burnt such magistrates require As dare not tempt God's providence by fire. With spiritual food he fed his servants well, But free from flesh that made the Jews rebel; And Moses' laws he held of more account For forty days of fasting in the Mount. from Absalom and Achitophel I 3.

Variations on the Couplet

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elected sheriff of London, a post he filled with conspicuoas parsimony. For his piety, compare Leviticus xrx, I 8, ancl Matthew xvrrr, 20.

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CHARACTER OF OG

John Dryden, 1682

. . . But though heav'n made him poor (with rev'rence speaking) 20

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vare: staff.

T h e scheme of Absalom and Achitophel depends on a satiric parallel between current events and Old Testament chronicles: Jerusalem is London, the Jews are the people of England, and so on. T h e reader was meant to recognize in Shimei a wealthy merchant named Slingsby Bethel, who disapproved of the monarchy and had just (1680) been

H e never was a poet of God's making; T h e midwife laid her hand on his thick skull With this prophetic blessing-'Be thou dull.' Drink, swear and roar, forbear no lewd delight Fit for thy bulk, do anything but write. Thou art of lasting make like thoughtless men; A strong nativity-but for the pen! Eat opium, mingle arsenic in thy drink, Still thou may'st live avoiding pen and ink. I see, I see, 'tis counsel given in vain, For treason botched in rhyme will be thy bane; Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck, 'Tis fatal to thy fame and to thy neck. W h y should thy metre good king David blast? A psalm of his will surely be thy last! Dar'st thou presume in verse to meet thy foes, Thou whom the penny pamphlet foiled in prose? Doeg, whom God for mankind's mirth has made, O'er tops thy talent in thy very trade; Doeg to thee, thy paintings are so coarse, A poet is, though he's the poet's horse. A double noose thou on thy neck dost pull, For writing treason and for writing dull; T o die for faction is a common evil, But to be hanged for nonsense is the devil. Had'st thou the glories of thy King expressed, T h y praises had been satire at the best; But thou in clumsy verse, unlicked, u n ~ o i n t e d , Hast shamefully defied the Lord's anointed. I will not rake the dunghill of thy crimes, For who would read thy life that reads thy rhymes? But of King David's foes be this the doom, May all be like the young man Absalom; And for my foes may this their blessing be, T o talk like Doeg, and to write like thee. From Absalom and Achito~hel,Part 11

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sin of Og and Doeg (Thomas Shadwell and Elkanah Settle) was to advocate bad (i.e., antiroyalist) politics in worse verse. Line 2: poets are born, not made. Line 7: the good die young. Line 8: nativity is a technical term from astrology. Like a fairy-tale giant, Og is safe provided he avoids one thing. Line 29: 1i~7lickeddraws a parallel between Og's verse and the legendary bear cub that is born a formless mass and licked into shape by its mother. Unyointed (unpunctuated) refers to the absence of structural pauses in the sentence as well as of commas and semicolons. See if you can find segments of this passage which could be omitted without making any difference. Is the effect cumulative, or does it depend on a few good lines? Does the passage lead anywhere, or simply accumulate epigrams? A fly need be swatted only once. Dryden starts with a fly and transforms it into something so monstrous it deserves to survive as a curiosity.

CHARACTER OF THE SCHOLAR Samziel Johnson, I 749

W h e n first the College Rolls receive his Name, T h e young Enthusiast quits his Ease for Fame; Thro' all his Veins the Fever of Renown Burns from the strong Contagion of the Gown; O'er Bodley's Dome his iuture Labours spread, And Bacon's Mansion trembles o'er his Head; Are these thy Views? proceed, illustrious Youth, And Virtue guard thee to the Throne of Truth. Yet should thy Soul indulge the gen'rous Heat Till captive Science yields her last Retreat; Should Reason guide thee with her brightest Ray, And pour on misty Doubt resistless Day; Should no false Kindness lure to loose Delight, Nor Praise relax, nor Difficulty fright; Should tempting Novelty thy Cell refrain, And Sloth effuse her opiate Fumes in Vain; Should Beauty blunt on Fops her fatal Dart, Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd Heart; Should no disease thy torpid Veins invade, Nor Melancholy's Phantoms haunt thy shade; Yet hope not Life from Grief or Danger free, Nor think the Doom of hlan revers'd for thee.

Variations on the Couplet

Deign on the passing World to turn thine Eyes And pause awhile from Letters to be wise; There mark what Ills the Scholar's Life assail, Toil, Envy, Want, the Patron, and the Jail. See Nations slowly wise, and meanly just, T o buried Merit raise the tardy Bust. If Dreams yet flatter, once again attend, Hear Lydiat's Life, and Galileo's End. From T h e Vanity of Human Wishes

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"Bodley's Dome" (line 5) : the Bodleian library at Oxford. "Bacon's Mansion" (line 6 ) : Roger, not Sir Francis. "There is a tradition that the study of friar Bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater than Bacon shall pass under it. T o prevent so shocking an accident, it was pulled down many years since."-Johnson's note. Lydiut (line 30), a scholar who was imprisoned for debt. Galileo spent the last eight years of his life in semi-imprisonment decreed by the Inquisition. Lines 9-22 constitute a single sentence. How are you kept aware of this fact as you read? Why? Does line 22 repeat line 21,or add something that line 21 would not imply by itself? Lines I I -I 2 contain a substantial and explicit analogy : Reason as the sun dispelling mists. Are the other images in this long sentence equally explicit? Can you find any statements that imply no metaphorical basis whatever? Is there something to see in line 17, or does Johnson remain on a plane of relative abstraction? Why? Johnson writes with a literary tradition in mind, and often assumes that you share his awareness of traditional situations and themes. Lines 3-4 are based on the story of the enchanted Nessus shirt which clung to Hercules's flesh and burned him to death. Line I 5 is based on the many legends of cloistered saints visited by temptresses. CHARACTER OF THE VICAR

George Crabbe, I 8 I o Where ends our chancel in a vaulted space, Sleep the departed vicars of the place; Of most, all mention, memory, thought are pastBut take a slight memorial of the last. T o what famed college we our Vicar owe, T o what fair county, let historians show.

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Few now remember when the mild young man, Ruddy and fair, his Sunday-task began; Few live to speak of that soft soothing look H e cast around, as he prepared his book; It was a kind of supplicating smile, But nothing hopeless of applause, the while; And when he finish'd, his corrected pride Felt the desert, and yet the praise denied. Thus he his race began, and to the end His constant care was, no man to offend; N o haughty virtues stirr'd his peaceful mind, Nor urged the priest to leave the flock behind; H e was his Master's soldier, but not one T o lead an army of his martyrs on: Fear was his ruling passion; yet was love, Of timid kind, once known his heart to move; It led his patient spirit where it paid Its languid offerings to a listening maid; She, with her widow'd mother, heard him speak, And sought awhile to find what he would seek: Smiling he came, he smiled when he withdrew, And paid the same attention to the two; Meeting and parting without joy or pain, H e seem'd to come that he might go again. T h e wondering girl, no prude, but something nice, At length was chill'd by his unmelting ice; She found her tortoise held such sluggish pace, T h a t she must turn and mcct him in the chase: This not approving, she uithdrew till one Came who appear'd with livclicr hope to run; W h o sought a readier way the heart to move, T h a n by faint dalliance of unfixing love.

'I am escaped,' he said, when none pursued; W h e n none attacked him, 'I am unsubdued;' 'Oh pleasing pangs of love,' he sang again, Cold to the joy, and stranger to the pain. Ev'n in his age, he would address the young, 'I too have felt these fires, and they are strong;' But from the time he left his favourite maid, T o ancient females his devoirs were paid;

Variations on the Couplet

And still they miss him after morning prayer; Nor yet successor fills the Vicar's chair, Where kindred spirits in his praise agree, An happy few, as mild and cool as he; T h e easy followers in the female train, Led without love, and captives without chain. From T h e Borough, I11

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Prose words, generally in prose order. Can you find any conspicuous images? Crabbe's procedure is to attach his words directly to the subject, whereas the usual procedure in satiric couplets is to compare the subject to something else and then write about that. Compare: T h e midwife laid her hand on his thick skull With this prophetic blessing-'Be thou dull.' --Dry den T h e situation imaginary, but the words mean exactly what they say.

0 thou! of Business the directing soul! T o this our head like bias to the bowl, Which, as more pond'rous, made its aim more true, Obliquely waddling to the mark in view. -Pope Spotlight on verbal dexterity, the words maintaining complicated contact with both halves of a witty comparison. Yet should thy Soul indulge the gen'rous Heat Till captive Science yields her last Retreat; . . -Johnson

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Both the conception and the language belong to a "special" region where what actually happens is evaluated rather than presented. Smiling he came, he smiled when he withdrew, And paid the same attention to the two; . -Crabbe

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What actually happened; the situation and the words equally "nonnal." These comparisons do not provide a basis for saying that one or another of the four writers compared is better or worse than the rest. They illus-

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Few now remember when the mild young man, Ruddy and fair, his Sunday-task began; Few live to speak of that soft soothing look H e cast around, as he prepared his book; It was a kind of supplicating smile, But nothing hopeless of applause, the while; And when he finish'd, his corrected pride Felt the desert, and yet the praise denied. T h u s he his race began, and to the end His constant care was, no man to offend; l N o haughty virtues stirr'd his ~ e a c e f u mind, Nor urged the priest to leave the flock behind; H e was his Master's soldier, but not one T o lead an army of his martyrs on: Fear was his ruling passion; yet was love, Of timid kind, once known his heart to move; It led his patient spirit where it paid Its languid offerings to a listening maid; She, with her widow'd mother, heard him speak, And sought awhile to find what he would seek: Smiling he came, he smiled when he withdrew, And paid the same attention to the two; Meeting and parting without joy or pain, H e seem'd to come that he might go again. T h e wondering girl, no prude, but something nice, At length was chill'd by his unmelting ice; She found her tortoise held such sluggish pace, That she must turn and meet him in the chase: This not approving, she n.ithdrew till one Came who appearld with livelier hope to run; W h o sought a readier way the heart to move, Than by faint dalliance of unfixing love.

'I am escaped,' he said, when none pursued; When none attacked him, 'I am unsubdued;' 'Oh pleasing pangs of love,' he sang again, Cold to the joy, and stranger to the pain. Ev'n in his age, he would address the young, 'I too have felt these fires, and they are strong;' But from the time he left his favourite maid, T o ancient females his devoirs were paid;

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And still they miss him after morning prayer; Nor yet successor fills the Vicar's chair, Where kindred spirits in his praise agree, An happy few, as mild and cool as he; T h e easy followers in the female train, Led without love, and captives without chain. . From T h e Borough, I11

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Prose words, generally in prose order. Can you find any conspicuous images? Crabbe's procedure is to attach his words directly to the subject, whereas the usual procedure in satiric couplets is to compare the subject to something else and then write about that. Compare: T h e midwife laid her hand on his thick skull With this prophetic blessing-'Be thou dull.' -Dryden T h e situation imaginary, but the words mean exactly what they say.

0 thou! of Business the directing soul! T o this our head like bias to the bowl, Which, as more pond'rous, made its aim more true, Obliquely waddling to the mark in view. -Pope Spotlight on verbal dexterity, the words maintaining complicated contact with both halves of a witty comparison. Yet should thy Soul indulge the gen'rous Hest Till captive Science yields her last Retreat; . . . -10 hnson Both the conception and the language belong to a "special" region where what actually happens is evaluated rather than presented. Smiling he came, he smiled when he withdrew, And paid the same attention to the two; . . -Crabbe

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What actually happened; the situation and the words equally "normal." These comparisons do not provide a basis for saying that one or another of the four writers compared is better or worse than the rest. They illus-

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trate the fact that all poems in couplets are no more alike than are all piano sonatas. Are "historians" (line 6 ) likely to concern themselves with village vicars? Find three other places in which Crabbe implies a comment on what he is presenting. Try to define the tone of the passage. Wry? Mocking? Tolerant? Sardonic? Urbane? From SORDELLO Robert Browning, I840

You gain the inmost chambers, gain at last A maple-panelled room : that haze which seems Floating about the panel, if there gleams A sunbeam over it, will turn to gold And in light-graven characters unfold T h e Arab's wisdom everywhere; what shade Marred them a moment, those slim pillars made, Cut like a company of palms to prop T h e roof, each kissing top entwined with top, Leaning together; in the carver's mind Some knot of bacchanals, flushed cheek combined With straining forehead, shoulders purpled, hair Diffused between, who in a goat-skin bear A vintage; graceful sister-palms! But quick T o the main wonder, now. A vault, see; thick Black shade about the ceiling, though fine slits Across the buttress suffer light by fits Upon a marvel in the midst. Nay, stoopA dullish grey-streaked cumbrous font, a group Round it,-each side of it, where'er one sees Upholds it; shrinking Caryatides Of just-tinged marble like Eve's lilied flesh Beneath her maker's finger when the fresh First pulse of light shot brightening the snow. T h e font's edge burthens every shoulder, so T h e y muse upon the ground, eyelids half closed;

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T h e eighteenth-century inoralists having been violently thrown out of fashion a generation before, Browning is able to ignore their existence and tackle the couplet afresh. H e is not developing anything achieved by Dryden, Pope, Johnson, or Crabbe.

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Compare the passage with the Marlowe poem on page 304. Is the pace of their verse similar or different? Does Browning draw attention to the line endings? Why or why not? Why does he trouble to use rhymes? Are the contents of the room he is describing related to anything else, or presented merely as sensational facts?

Despite shifts of sensibility, accumulating tradition, and radical alterations in the moral structure of civilization itself, certain poetic critera recur, certain achievements break free of "period." T h e following passages, drawn from the very earliest and very latest poems written in English, are, despite their evident differences, not diminished by one another's company.

Finale to 'TROILUS AND CRISEYDE Geoffrey Chaucer, c. 1385

Go, litel book, go, litel myn tragkdye, Ther God thy makere yet, er that he dye, So sende might to make in som comkdie! But litel book, no making thow n'envye, But subgit be to alle poesye; And kis the steppes, where as thow seest pace Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, and Stace. And for ther is so greet diversitke In English and in wryting of oure tonge, So prey I God that non miswrite thee, N e thee mismetre for defaute of tonge. And red wherso thou be, or elles songe, That thow be understonde, I God biseche! But yet to purpos of my rather speche.T h e wrath, as I bigan yow for to seye, Of Troilus, the Grekes boughten deere. For thousandes his hondes maden deye, As he that was withouten any peere, 2. "May God yet send to thy composer, before he dies, the power to write a comedy." 3. Make: make a poem. 4 . making: poetry. no . ne: do not. 5. subgit: subject. 7 . Omer: Homer. Stace: Statius. I I . mismetre: scan wrongly; a prophetic line. 14. rather: earlier. "Back to the subiect." 17.deye: die.

..

Save Ector, in his tyme, as I kan heere. But weylaway, save only Goddes wille! Despitously hym slough the fiers Achille. And whan that he was slayn in this manere, His light6 goost ful blisfully is went TJp to the holownesse of the eighthe spere, In convers leting every element; And ther he saugh, with ful avysement, T h e erratik sterres, herkening armonye With sownes ful of hevenish melodie. And down from thenncs faste he gan avysC This litel spot of erthc, that with the see Embraced is, and fully gan dcspise This wrecched world, and held a1 vanitC T o respect of the pleyn felicitke That is in hevene above; and at the laste, Ther he was slayn, his loking down he caste. And in hymself he lough right at the wo Of hem that wepten for his deth so faste; And dampned a1 our werk that foloweth so T h e blynde lust, the which that may not laste, And sholden a1 oure herte on heven caste. And forthe he wente, shortly for to telle, Ther as Mercbrye sorted hym to dwelle. Swich fyn hath, lo, this Troilus for love, Swich fyn hath a1 his grete worthynesse; Swich fyn hath his estat re61 above, Swich fyn his lust, swich fyn hath his noblesse, Swych fin hath false worldes brotelnesse. "But alas! (except that it was God's will, and I mustn't lament it)." 23. goost: SOU]. za. holownesse: concavity. eighthe spere: the circle of the fixed stars. 25. "leaving on the othe; side ;he fou;earthly elements." 26. avysement: attention, understanding. 27. erratik: wandering. armonye: harmony. 29. avyse: perceive. 35. ther: where. 36. lough: laughed. 37. hem: them. 38. dampned: condemned. 42. Mercurye: conductor of souls to the next world. sorted: allotted. 45. estat real: royal status (he was a prince). 43, swich f y n : such an end. 47. brotelnesse: brittleness. 46. lust: desire (softer than "lust").

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Save Ector, in his tyme, as I kan heere. But weylaway, save only Goddes wille! Despitously hym slough the fiers Achille. And whan that he was slayn in this manere, His light; goost ful blidully is went U p to the holownesse of the eighthe spere, In convers leting every element; And ther he saugh, with ful avysement, T h e erratik sterres, herkening armonye With sownes ful of hevenish melodie. And down from thenncs faste he gan avyse This litel spot of erthc, that with the see Embraced is, and fully gan despise This wrecched world, and held a1 vanit6 T o respect of the pleyn felicitbe That is in hevene above; and at the laste, Ther he was slayn, his loking down he caste. And in hymself he lough right at the wo Of hem that wepten for his deth so faste; And dampned a1 our werk that foloweth so T h e blynde lust, the which that may not laste, And sholden a1 oure herte on heven caste. And forthe he wente, shortly for to telle, Ther as Mercbrye sorted hym to dwelle. Swich fyn hath, lo, this Troilus for love, Swich fyn hath a1 his grete worthynesse; Swich fyn hath his estat re61 above, Swich fyn his lust, swich fyn hath his noblesse, Swych fin hath false worldes brotelnesse. "But alas! (except that it was God's will, and I mustn't lament it)." 23. goost: Soul. eighthe spere: the circle of the fixed stars. 2,i. holownesse: concavim. 25. "leavinF: - on the other side the four earthly elements." 26. avysement: attention, understanding. 27. erratik: wandering. armonye: harmony. 29. avyse: perceive. 35. ther: where. 36. lough: laughed. 37. hem: them. 38. dampned: condemned. 42. Mercurye: conductor of souls to the next world. sorted: allotted. 45. estat real: royal status (he was a ~ r i n c e ) . 43. swich fyn: such an end. 47. brotelnesse: brittleness. 46. lust: desire (softer than "lust").

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And thus bigan his loving of Criseyde, As I have told, and in this wise he deydit.

0 yonge, fresshe folkes, he or she, In which that love up groweth with your age, Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanytCe, And of youre herte up-casteth the visage T o thilke God that after his image Yow made, and thynketh a1 nys but a faire This world, that passeth soone as floures faire. And loveth hym, the which that right for love Upon a cros, our soules for to beye, First stad, and roos, and sit in hevene above; For he nyl falsen no wight, dar I seye, That wol his herte a1 hoolly on hym ley;. And syn he best to love is, and most meke, What nedeth feynede loves for to seke? Lo here, of payens corsed oldit rites, Lo here, what alle hire goddes may availlit; Lo here, these wrecched worldes appetites; Lo here, the fyn and guerdoun for travail16 Of Jove, Appollo, of Mars, of swich rascaille! Lo here, the forme of olde clerkis speche In poetrie, if ye hire bokes seche.

0 moral Gower, this book I direct; T o thee and to thee, philosophical Strodd, T o vouchen sauf, ther nede is, to correcte, Of your benignit& and zeles goode. And to that sothefast Crist, that starf on rode, With a1 myn herte of mercy evere I preyk, And to the Lord right thus I speke and seye:

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52. repeyreth is an imperative; so are the other verbs in -th in the next six lines. 54. thilke: that same. 58. beye: buy (redeem). 59. stud: died. 700s: rose. 60. nyl falsen n o wight: won't deceive anyone. 63. feynede: feigned ( I ) in Look.;; ( 2 ) earthly, which counterfeits the heavenly. 67. gzcerdoiin: reward. travaille: struggle. 64. payens: pagans'. 68. rascaille: rabble (used of anim:ils not worth hunting). 69. clerkis: clerics, i.e., the church fathers who inveighed against pagan authors. 70. seche: seek. 71. Gower, 1325-1408: poet and friend of Chaucer. 72. Strode: Thomist philosopher, friend of Chaucer. 73. vouchen sauf: vouchsafe. 75. sothefast: faithful. starf o n rode: died on a cross.

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And thus bigan his loving of Criseyde, As I have told, and in this wise he deyde.

0 yonge, fresshe folkes, he or she, In which that love up groweth with your age, Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanytCe, And of youre herte up-casteth the visage T o thilke God that after his image Yow made, and thynketh a1 nys but a faire This world, that passeth soone as flour& faire. And loveth hym, the which that right for love Upon a cros, our soules for to beye, First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene above; For he nyl falsen no wight, dar I seye, That wol his herte a1 hoolly on hym ley&. And syn he best to love is, and most meke, What nedeth feynede loves for to seke? Lo here, of payens corsed old6 rites, Lo here, what alle hire goddes may availlk; Lo here, these wrecched worldes appetites; Lo here, the fyn and guerdoun for travail16 Of Jove, Appollo, of Mars, of swich rascaillk! Lo here, the forme of olde clerkis speche In poetrie, if ye hire bokes seche.

0 moral Cower, this book I direct& T o thee and to thee, philosophical Strodit, T o vouchen sauf, ther nede is, to correcte, Of your benignites and ze1i.s goode. And to that sothefast Crist, that starf on rode, With a1 myn herte of mercy evere I preyk, And to the Lord right thus I speke and seye: 52. is an im~erative:so are the other verbs in -th in the next six lines. - revevreth a , 54. thilke: that same. ' 58. beve: buy (redeem). 59. stud: died. roos: rose. 60. nyl falsen no wight: won't deceive anyone. 63. feynede: feigned ( I ) in Look.;; ( 2 ) carthly, which counterfeits the heavenly. 64. payens: pagans'. 67. gzcerdoun: reward. travaille: struggle. 68. rascaille: rabble (used of anim:tls not worth hunting). ,a* 69. clerkis: clerics, i.e., the church fathers who inveiRhcd against pagan authors. 70. seche: seek. 71. Gower, 1325-1408: poet and friend of Chaucer. 72. Strode: Thomist philosopher, friend of Chaucer. 73. vouchen sauf: vouchsafe. 75. sothefast: faithful. starf o n rode: died on a cross. \

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Thou oon, and two, and thre, eterne on-lyve, That regnest ay in thre, and two, and oon, Uncircumscript, and a1 mayst circumscrive, U s from visible and invisible foon Defende, and to thy mercy, everichon, So make us, Jesus, for thi grace, digne, For love of mayde and moder thyn benigne. Amen.

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81. foon: foes. 80. mayst: art able to. 78. on-lyve:living. 83. digne: worthy. 82. everichon: each one of us.

T h e finale of probably the finest narrative poem in English. T h e student can read Chaucer for the meaning without mastering the pronunciation of Middle English vowels. T h e meter, however, will elude him, as it did everyone from the sixteenth century until Tyrwhitt's edition of 1775, unless he notes that words ending in e have usually one syllable more than their modern counterparts. In the above passage, the dotted letter "e" is meant to be pronounced as a separate syllable, somewhat like the a in idea. When this syllable is stressed it is printed "6." T h u s "herte" has one syllable, "goode" has two, and "vanyt6" is pronounced with the stress on the last syllable, not, as in modern English, on the first. Attempts to translate Chaucer's verse into modern English fail, without exception, not by losing the "quaintness" but by diluting his sharpness with off-center or unnecessary words introduced to solve metrical difficulties. Chaucer's mind isn't "quaint" in the least. H e uses his language in an exceedingly businesslike way. H e is intent on his meaning. Spenser, by contrast, archaizes constantly, as do many poets after him, to impart a flavor to meaning which he doesn't take seriously enough to trust on its own.

A gentle Knight was prickingon the plaine, Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde (opening of Spenser's Faerie Queene) isn't Elizabethan but bastardmedieval. Spenser doesn't at bottom believe in the reality of his Knight. Chaucer, writing in the fourteenth century, is sufficiently persuaded of the reality of the Greeks and Trojans of his story to make them fourteenth-century figures. For this reason they can be perfectly well imagined by the twentieth-century reader as twentieth-century figures. This isn't naivetd on Chaucer's part. It is the mark of an imagination powerful enough to break through chronology. When painters believed in the

Traditions 335 reality of the Holy Family they painted them in modern dress. Later and more sentimental painters made them antique. T h e final stanzas of the Troilus display Chaucer's complete selfpossession. H e is aware that the book he has just finished challenges comparison with works of Ovid and Homer; equally aware that there is a plenum of great poetry which he hasn't rendered obsolete and which it behooves his book to enter with suitable deference. H e is also aware of the overpowering reality of his story, and equally aware that a desperate love affair isn't the whole of reality. Troilus's laughter in line 36 sets the passion in which he and the reader have been so involved at as great a distance as "this litel spot of erthe"; it remains valid enough, however, to warrant comparison with the earth; it was all the world to him. T h e range of tone and feeling in these twelve stanzas needs no comment. W h y is Troilus's death disposed of in a single line (21)? What is the tone of this line? Is the tone of "fiers" somewhat weighted toward irony? Examine the devices by which lines like 32 and 47 are justified. Is the dismissal of pagan gods and pagan literature (lines 64-70) simply an appeal to the piety of the medieval reader, or is it justified by the rest of the passage? Note the parallel structure of the first and second-last stanzas quoted; what is the function of this? What is the effect of the implied parallel (and contrast) between the death of Christ and that of Troilus? THE RECREATORS Ezra Pound, 1945

libretto

Yet Ere the season died a-cold Borne upon a zephyr's shoulder I rose through the aureate sky Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest Dolmetsch ever be thy guest, Has he tempered the viol's wood T o enforce both the grave and the acute? Has he curved us the bowl of the lute? Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest Dolmetsch ever be thy guest Hast 'ou fashioned so airy a mood T o draw up leaf from the root? Hast 'ou found a cloud so light As seemed neither mist nor shade?

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Then resolve me, tell me aright If Waller sang or Dowland played. Your eyen two wol sleye me sodenly I may the beaut6 of hem nat susteyne And for 180 years almost nothing. Ed ascoltando a1 leggier mormorio there came new subtlety of eyes into my tent, whether of spirit or hypostasis, but what the blindfold hides or at carneval nor any pair showed anger Saw but the eyes and stance between the eyes, colour, diastasis, careless or unaware it had not the whole tent's room nor was place for the full EL%P interpass, penetrate casting but shade beyond the other lights sky's clear night's sea green of the mountain pool shone from the unmasked eyes in half-mask's space. What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross W h a t thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage Whose world, or mine or theirs or is it of none? First came the seen, then thus the ~ a l ~ a b l e Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell, What thou lovest well is thy true heritage T h e ant's a centaur in his dragon world. Pull down thy vanity, it is not man Made courage, or made order, or made grace, Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down. Learn of the green world what can be thy place In scaled invention or true artistry, Pull down thy vanity,

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Paquin pull down! T h e green casque has outdone your elegance.

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"Master thyself, then others shall thee beare" Pull down thy vanity Thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail, A swollen magpie in a fitful sun, Half black half white Nor knowst'ou wing from tail Pull down thy vanity How mean thy hates Fostered in falsity, Pull down thy vanity, Rathe to destroy, niggard in charity, Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down. But to have done instead of not doing this is not vanity T o have, with decency, knocked That a Blunt should open T o have gathered from the air a live tradition or from a fine old eye the unconquered flame This is not vanity. Here error is all in the not done, all in the diffidence that faltered, From Canto LXXXI

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This passage of his long magnum opus T h e Cantos was written when Pound, a man of sixty, was imprisoned in an internment camp in Pisa at the close of World War 11. It articulates Pound's view that the artist's function is not to seek novelty but to re-create enduring values which require to be constantly rescued from decay, debasement, and superannuation. T h e rare man who achieves a little of this is contrasted with the forward hordes whose construction is vanity, literally nothingness. As Pound has both conceived poems and made corresponding verse forms, so Lawes and Jenkyns in the seventeenth century both wrote music and made instruments. As Pound in his youth recovered the concepts and techniques of the troubadours, so Arnold Dolmetsch in the twentieth century re-edited the old music and reconstructed the old instruments. Edmund Waller (1606-1687) revised the lyric tradition of his time in the direction of singabilit~.Does the verse of the opening seventeen lines imply a musical accompaniment? Are the sounds

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adapted for singing? Note the pure vowel sounds of lines 2-4 and the sound-sequences A-E-1-0 and I - 0 - U as though the alphabet of the craft were being exhibited. "He" in line 7 is the candidate for admission to these aureate regions. Lines 18-19 are from Chaucer's "Merciles BeautC." Why does Pound choose this rather than any other fragment of Chaucer for quotation? T h e "180 years" of line 20 is the gap between Chaucer and the first Elizabethans. What has this gap to do with the theme of the passage? Line 21 : "And listening to the gentle murmur." What is the connection between lines 18 and 227 Are the "eyes" in the tent no longer "merciles" (cf. line 26) in reward for forty years' devotion? "Diastasis" (line 28) is "a standing aloof, a separationJ'; it can refer both to "the stance between the eyes" and their essential aloofness from the poet's concerns. "Eidos" (line 31) means "knowing." "Dross" (line 39) is scummed off the surface of molten gold. What heat is implied by the context? Pound's gold is of a special sort (lines 4-41); while it can be received and transmitted it cannot be stolen. Note that "heritage" means both what you inherit and what you pass on. What is the force of "true" (line 41)? Gold is the common symbol of property. Is the image still present in lines 42-43? T h e artist sees the thing "in the air," then makes it. In what sense was the Elysium of the present passage made "in the halls of hell"? Note that Pound's idealism connotes not daydreaming but intense concentration and exact definition; how does this concur with the habit of mind exhibited in images like those in lines 3 and 737 T h e centaur (half man, half horse) is the animal world breaking through into the rational. Does the ant hold a similar place among insects? How does the fact of the ant's existence justify lines 48-49? "Pull down" implies a structure to be pulled; "vanity" is used in its original sense of "nothingness." T h e vanity is that of "Man, proud man, dress'd in a little brief authorityv who imagines that it is his business to make values instead of discovering and affirming them. "Paquin" (line 54) is a very celebrated Parisian dressmaker, synonymous with maximum human elegance. How are his works outdone by the "green casque" of an insect? T h e dog (line 58) is the mimic and flunky among animals; he takes his personality from his owners. T h e magpie (line 59) thieves and chatters in imitation of the speech of more rational creatures. Lines 47-55 renovate the preacher's advice to learn of the ant (Prwerbs 6:6; and compare Ecclesiastes I :2 and Pound's militant treatment of I :9). In the well-known fable the ant was a thrifty prig and the grasshopper an improvident poet. How does Pound reverse the implica-

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tions of the story by aligning himself with the ant and rebuking the "practical" men? , poet, Blunt (line 72) is Wilfred Scawen Blunt ( 1 8 ~ ~ + 1 9 2 2 )British diplomat, adventurer, and advocate of political morality. He was one of the limited but honest elders whom the young Pound visited in London about 1909 when he might have been celebrity hunting. Line 73 links back with the musical analogies of lines 7-1 5; reference also to Pound's Provengal studies. T h e "fine old eye" of line 74 is that of William Butler Yeats, from whom Pound learned the value of artistic intransigence. Is any of this information necessary to understanding the passage? Does Blunt's name, for instance, convey enough of the meaning without gloss? Why does the passage end with a comma? T h e middle part of the passage may profitably be explored in terms of the contrast between the Elysium built in line 45 and the vanity to be demolished in lines 48-68.

nrvlnn

Useful Books

Your college library abounds in books about literature which even specialists read only with reluctance. On the other hand, there do exist a number of books which can help sharpen and direct your perceptions of poetic techniques and effects, or of particular poets or poems. They should be read for the assistance they give in reading books more important than they are; never simply swallow what a critic has to say, and trust him in proportion to his capacity for pointing out facts which you can verify or modify for yourself by reference to the text he is writing about. T h e following list of books which have been found helpful by serious readers is neither a doctor's prescription nor an exhaustive catalogue. Ezra Pound, A B C of Reading (New York: New Directions, 1951). This has been described as a parody of a textbook. Though it is the shortest book on the list, you can't profitably hasten through it. Very high concentration of horse sense per page. I. A. Richards, Practical Criticism (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1950). Though the title is misleading, this analysis of the ways in which naive but opinionated readers make fools of themselves has saved many students from the tempting supposition that poetry can be absorbed like Coca-Cola. Cleanth Brooks, T h e W e l l - W r o u g h t U r n (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1956). Essays on the m d u s operandi of specific works. William Empson, Seven T y p e s of Ambiguity (New York: Meridian Books, 1955). This extremely uneven book pursues with resolute in34 1

n n n m

Useful Books

Your college - library abounds in books about literature which even specialists read only with reluctance. On the other hand, there do exist a number of books which can help sharpen and direct your perceptions of poetic techniques and effects, or of particular poets or poems. They should be read for the assistance they give in reading books more important than they are; never simply swallow what a critic has to say, and trust him in proportion to his capacity for pointing out facts which you can verify or modify for yourself by reference to the text he is writing about. T h e following list of books which have been found helpful by serious readers is neither a doctor's prescription nor an exhaustive catalogue. Ezra Pound, A B C of Reading (New York: New Directions, 1951). This has been described as a parody of a textbook. Though it is the shortest book on the list, you can't profitably hasten through it. Very high concentration of horse sense per page. I. A. Richards, Practical Criticism (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1950). Though the title is misleading, this analysis of the ways in which nai've but opinionated readers make fools of themselves has saved many students from the tempting supposition that poetry can be absorbed like Coca-Cola. Cleanth Brooks, T h e W e l l - W r o u g h t U r n (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1956). Essays on the m d u s operandi of specific works. William Empson, Seven T y p e s of Ambiguity (New York: Meridian Books, 1955). This extremely uneven book pursues with resolute in34 1

342

Useful Books

formality the method of teasing out strands of meaning in deceptively simple passages. Dangerous for the suggestible. F. R. Leavis, Revaluation (New York: George W. Stewart, Publisher, Inc., 1947). T h e genealogy of "wit" from Donne and Jonson to the Augustans, supplemented by essays on Wordsworth, Keats, and Shelley. The discussion never wanders from the specific examples under scrutiny. Hugh Kenner, Gnomon (New York: McDowell, Obolensky, Inc., 1958). Useful elucidations of Yeats, Pound, Williams, and Marianne Moore, treated in detail but envisaged as wholes. Donald Davie, Purity of Diction i n English Verse (New York: Oxford University Press, 1953). T h e first critic to do anything useful with the concept of "diction." T h e most immediately enlightening parts are the first chapter and the essays on Hopkins and Shelley. T. S. Eliot, Selected Essays (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1950). Several of the essays in Sections I, 11, 111 and V of this book are classics of twentieth-century criticism: notably "Tradition and the Individual Talent," "The Metaphysical Poets," and "Andrew Marvell." William Carlos Williams, Selected Essays (New York: Random House, Inc., 1954). The three essays on Pound in this book, and the earlier of the two on Marianne Moore, illuminate far more than their ostensible subjects. So do the aphorisms that turn up on every page.

On

Criticism

T h e greater part of readers, instead of blaming us for passing trifles, will wonder that on trifles so much labour is expended, with such importance of debate, and such solemnity of diction. T o these I answer with confidence, that they are judging of an art which they do not understand; yet cannot much reproach them with their ignorance, nor promise that they would become in general, by learning criticism, more useful, happier or wiser. -Samuel Johnson

nnnnn

Index Subject Index Author, Title, and First Line Index

m

n

Subject Index

Alexandrine, I 22 Anapestic rhythm, 77 Artificiality of all writing, 295 Caesura, 80 Chaucer, pronunciation of, I 6 I Chronology, 283 Civilization, defined, 2 I 9; use of, to poet, 2 I 5-21g Classics, atrophy of, 218 Convention, use of, 296 Couplet, iambic pentameter, 304-330 Dactylic rhythm, 77 Diction, 5-15; defined, 7 Epigrams, I 52-1 54 Event, distinguished from poem, 215-2 I 8 Iambic rhythm, 76 Image, 37-66; defined, 47; unstated, 50 Incantation, 102 Information, supplanted by Art, 180 Knowledge, useful, poetry infused with, I 80-18 1 Latin, concision of, 237-238 Metaphor, 47 Meter, 75-97: types of feet, 75-78 blythology, Marlowe's use of, 306

346

Subject lndex

Narrative, I 24-1 32 Nightingale, legend of, 300 Pace, defined, 1 I 7 Pastoral, 282-303; usefulness of, 296; decline of, 298 Plot, I 33-143; and form, 144-149;and syntax, 150-163;of a descriptive poem, 137;definitions of, 134, 135 Printing, significance of, 230 Rhythm, 67-97;discussed, 67-68;as clarification of meaning, 71-72; Ke also Meter Satire, one technique of, 267 Simile, 47 Song and music, 102-103,105-106 Song and sonority, 98-123 Sonnets, Shakespealean, 144-146;Petrarchan, 146148;difficulty of, 149 Sonority, threat to precision, I I I Sound and Sense, I I 2-1 I 5 Spondaic rhythm, 77 Subject, salience of, 167, 173-174;three uses of, 177; event distinguished from pOe"% 215 Synecdoche, 47 Syntax, I 50-163;vertebral, I 50; as camodage, I 50; abandoned, r 5 1 Taste, definition of, 165 Time when written, effect of on poems, 278-283 Tone, 16-36 Triplet, 122 Truchaic rhythm, 77 Useful Knowledge, I 80-181 Values, I 92-2 I 8;in poem, not in poet's biography, 108 Wit, Eliot on, 271, 274

nnnnn Author, Title, and First Line

About suffering they were never wrong, zzz Accept, thou Shrine of my dead Saint, 222 Adam lay Ibowndyn, 284 Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, 254 Adonais (excerpt), 50 "After a Hundred Years", 2I 5 Again let me do a lot of extraordinary talking, 264 Aged man, that mows these fields, 158 Ancestral Houses, 276 And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, I I 2 And even then he tum'd; and more and more, I I a And here face down beneath the sun, 243 "And if I did what then?", 19 ANONYMOUS, 106,1 2 1 , 124,126, 256, 284 April made me: winter laid me here away asleep, 216 ARNOLD, MATTHEW, 57 "As Imperceptibly as Grief", g As withereth the primrose by the river, 271 Ask me no more, where Jove bestows, 107 From Astrophel and Stella, 147, 148 "At the Round Eiarth's Imagined Corners Blow", 117 At the violet hour, when the eyes and back, 72 AUDBN, W. H.,222, 253 Avenge, 0 Lord, thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones, I 16

Baby's Epitaph, A, 216 Beck to the skim with shame he shall be driv'n,

346

Index

I 13

Subject lndex

Narrative, I 24-132 Nightingale, legend of, 300 Pace, defined, I I 7 Pastoral, 282-303; usefulness of, 296;decline of, 298 Plot, I 33-143; and form, 144-149; and syntax, I 50-163;of a descriptive poem, 137;definitions of, 1 34, 135 Printing, significance of, 230 Rhythm, 67-97;discussed, 67-68;as clarification of meaning, 71-72;see also Meter Satire, one technique of, 267 Simile, 47 Song and music, 102-103,105-106 Song and sonority, 98-1 23 Sonnets, Shakespearean, r44-146;Petrarchan, 146148;difficulty of, 149 Sonority, threat to precision, r I I Sound and Sense, I I 2-1 I 5 Spndaic rhythm, 77 Subject, salience of, 167, 173-174;three uses of, 177; event distinguished from poem, 2 1 5 Synecdoche, 47 Syntax, I 50-163;vertebral, I 50; as camodage, I 50; abandoned, I 51 Taste, definition of, 165 Time when written, effect of on poems, 278-282 Tone, 16-36 Triplet, 122 Trochaic rhythm, 77 Useful Knowledge, I 80-1 8 I Values, 192-218;in poem, not in poet's biography, 108 Wit, Eliot on, 271, 274

nnnnn Author, Title, and First Line

Index

About suffering they were never wrong, 222 Accept, thou Shrine of my dead Saint, 222 Adam lay Ibowndyn, 284 Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, 254 Adonais (excerpt), 50 "After a Hundred Years", 215 Again let me do a lot of extraordinary talking, 264 Aged man, that mows these fields, 158 Ancestral Houses, 276 And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, I I 2 And even then he tum'd; and more and more, I IZ And here face down beneath the sun, 243 "And if I did what then?", 19 ANONYMOUS, 106,121, 124,126, 256, 284 April made me: winter laid me here away asleep, 216 ARNOLD, MATIWEW, 57 "As Imperceptibly as Grief", g As withereth the primrose by the river, 271 Ask me no more, where Jove bestows, 107 From Astrophel and Stella, 147, 148 "At the Round Eiarth's Imagined Corners Blow", I 17 At the violet hour, when the eyes and back, 72 AUDBN, W. H.,222, 253 Avenge, 0 Lord, thy slaughter'd Saints, whose bones, I 16

Baby's Epitaph, A, 116 Back to the skies with shame he shall be driv'n,

I 13

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

348

18, 2 0 7

Ballad of Burdens, A , 99 Ballad upon a Wedding, A , 2 2 Before the barn-door crowing, 68

CUMMINGS, E. E.,

BELLOC, HILAIRE, 1 5 4

Dance, T h e , I 59 Dance of the Macabre Mice, T h e , 54

From Bird-Witted, I I 5 Bishop Orders his T o m b , T h e , BLAKE, WILLIAM, 6, 8, 53 BOLTON, EDMUND,

The Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day,

192

BINYON, LAURENCE,

Dark Angel, T h e , 8 I Dark that W a s is Here, T h e , 74 Dazzled thus with height of place, Death of Ulysses, T h e , 1 9 2 Decay, 1 4 2

25 I 330

BUNTING, BASIL, 5 2 , I 2 0

DE LA MARE, WALTER, 2 1 3

The burden of fair women. Vain delight, 99

Delight i n Disorder, Demon Lover, T h e ,

BURNS, ROBERT, 2 4 2

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, 2 8 But he, though bad, is followed by a worse, 3 2 3 But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, 99 But that was nothing to what things came out, 1 6 9 But though heav'n made him poor (with rev'rence speaking), By the road to the contagious hospital, 5 BYRON, GEORGE GORDON, LORD, 16, 17, 2 1

Cain,

325

26

104, 2 3 6

DUNBAR, WILLIAM,

Canto XIII, I 78 Cape A n n , 3 I CAREW, THOMAS,

Carol,

220 I2 6

308 Descent, T h e , I 7 2 Descent beckons, the, 1 7 2 Dialogue between the Soul and Body, A, 60 Dialogue Betwixt T i m e and a Pilgrim, A , I 58 DICKINSON, EMILY, 9, 2 1 5 Dirce, 154 Dirge i n Cymbeline, A, 1 6 8 DONNE, JOHN, 2 8 , 63, 64, 78, 1 1 4 , I 17, 2 4 7 , 2 8 0 Dry clash'd his harness on the icy caves, I I 2 DRYDEN, JOHN, 1 2 1 ,

102,

253

DENHAM, SIR JOHN,

CAMPBELL, ROY, I 2 2 CAMPION, THOMAS,

226

DANTE, 1 9 2 201

BOYD, MARX ALEXANDER, 2 4 6 BROWNING, ROBERT, 2 9 , 2 0 1 ,

349

323, 91

325

DUNCAN, RONALD, I 8 I , 2 8 5

107, I 38,

From Dunciad, T h e , 3 I 3, 3 I 5 Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows,

1 6 2 , 2 1 5, 2 4 4

257

285

CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS, 2 3 6

Eagle, T h e , 48 Ears i n the Turrets Hear, 58 Elegy to the Memory of a n Unfortunate Lady, 309 Elegy Written i n a Country Churchyard, A n . 2 2 6 ELIOT, T. s., 31, 51, 70, 7 2 , 83, 89, 2 0 4 England, 1 4 1 Epistle to a Patron, A n , 42 Epitaph o n a n Army of Mercenaries, 3 2 Epitaph on Elizabeth, L.H., 2 1 8 Epitaph o n the Lady Mary Villers, 2 I 5 ~ ; the e season died-a-cold, 335 From Essay on Criticism, A n , I I 3 Exequy, T h e , 2 2 2 Expiration, T h e , 78 Extasie, T h e , 247

Character of Character of Character of Character of

Og, 3 2 5 the Scholar, 3 2 6 Shimei, 3 2 3 the Vicar, 3 2 7 CHAUCER, G E O F F W Y , 1 0 9 , 160, 3 3 1 Children picking up our bones, I 4 3 Civilisation is hooped together, brought, 1 4 9 'A cold coming we had of it, 89 COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR, 78 COLLINS, WILLIAM, I 68 "Come Down, 0 Maid", 156 Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height, I 56 Come live with me and be my love, 2 8 9 Come, my Celia, let us prove, 2 3 5 Complaint of a Lover Rebuked, 80 From Cooper's Hill, 308

Farewell Love, and all thy Laws for ever, 146 Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, 2 4 5 Farewell, too little and too lately known, I 2 1 Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, 2 9

o., 2 3 8 CRABBE, GEORGE, 327 Crane, T h e , 40

COPLEY, PRANK

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

348

18, 2 0 7

Ballad of Burdens, A , 99 Ballad upon a Wedding, A , 2 2 Before the barn-door crowing, 68

CUMMINGS, B. E.,

BELLOC, HILAIRE, I 5 4

Dance, T h e , I 59 Dance of the Macabre Mice, T h e , 54

BINYON, LAURENCE,

The Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day,

192

From Bird-Witted, I I 5 Bishop Orders his T o m b , T h e , BLAKE, WILLIAM, 6, 8, 53

DANTE, 1 9 2

Dark Angel, T h e , 8 I Dark that W a s is Here, T h e , 74 Dazzled thus with height of place, Death of Ulysses, T h e , 1 9 2 Decay, 1 4 2

201

BOLTON, EDMUND, 2 5 I

BOYD, MARX ALEXANDER,

246

BROWNING, ROBERT, 2 9 , 2 0 1 ,

330

BUNTING, BASIL, 5 2 , I 2 0

DE LA MARE, WALTER, 2 1 3

The burden of fair women. Vain delight, 99

Delight i n Disorder, Demon Lover, T h e ,

BURNS, ROBERT, 2 4 2

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, 2 8 But he, though bad, is followed by a worse, 3 2 3 But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, 99 But that was nothing to what things came out, 1 6 9 But though heav'n made him poor (with rev'rence speaking), By the road to the contagious hospital, 5 BYRON, GEORGE GORDON, LORD, 16, 17, 2 1

Cain,

26

CAMPBELL, ROY, I 2 2 CAMPION, THOMAS,

Carol,

DENHAM, SIR JOHN,

325

253

220 I26

308

Descent. T h e .. 1 ,7 2 Descent beckons, the, I 7 2 Dialogue between the Soul and Body, A, 60 Dialogue Betwixt T i m e and a Pilgrim, A , I 58 DICKINSON, EMILY, 9, 2 1 5 Dirce, 154 Dirge i n Cymbeline, A , 1 6 8 DONNE, JOHN, 2 8 , 63, 64, 78, 1 1 4 , I 17, 2 4 7 , 2 8 0 Dry clash'd his harness on the icy caves, I 1 2 DRYDEN, JOHN, 1 2 1 ,

102, 104, 2 3 6

Canto XIII, I 78 Cape A n n , 3 I CAREW, THOMAS,

226

323,

325

DUNBAR, WILLIAM, 9 1 DUNCAN, RONALD, I 8 I , 2 8 5

107, I 38,

1 6 2 , 2 1 5, 2 4 4

From Dunciad, T h e , 3 I 3, 3 I 5 Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows,

257

285

CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS, 2 3 6

Character of Character of Character of Character of

Og, 3 2 5 the Scholar, 3 2 6 Shimei, 3 2 3 the Vicar, 3 2 7 CHAUCER, G E O F F W Y , 1 0 9 , 160, 33 1 Children picking up our bones, I 4 3 Civilisation is hooped together, brought, I 4 9 'A cold coming we had of it, 89 COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR, 78 COLLINS, WILLIAM, I 68 "Come Down, 0 Maid", I 56 Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height, I 56 Come live with me and be my love, 2 8 9 Come, my Celia, let us prove, 2 3 5 Complaint of a Lover Rebuked, 80 From Cooper's Hill, 308 o., 2 3 8 CRABBE, GEORGE, 327 Crane, T h e , 40

COPLEY, PRANK

Eagle, T h e , 48 Ears i n the Turrets Hear, 58 Elegy to the Memory of a n Unfortunate Lady, 309 Elegy Written i n a Country Churchyard, A n . 2 2 6 ELIOT, T. s., 31, 51, 70, 7 2 , 83, 89, 2 0 4 England, 1 4 1 Epistle to a Patron, A n , 42 Epitaph o n a n Army of Mercenaries, 3 2 Epitaph on Elizabeth, L.H., 2 1 8 Epitaph o n the Lady Mary Villers, 2 I 5 Ere the season died a-cold, 335 From Essay on Criticism, A n , I I 3 Exequy, T h e , 2 2 2 Expiration, T h e , 78 Extasie, T h e , 247 Farewell Love, and all thy Laws for ever, 146 Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, 2 4 5 Farewell, too little and too lately known, 1 2 1 Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, 2 9

349

350

Author, Title, and First Line Index

Author, Title, and First Line Index

Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 167 Fern Hill, 260 Field of Waterloo, The, 16 Finale to The Dunchi, 315 Finale to Troilus and Criseyde, 33 I Fish in the Unruffled Lakes, 253 Follow your Saint, 102 Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet, 102 For Anne Gregory, 2 Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin, 246 Fragment of an Agon, 83 FROST, ROBERT, 41, 208 Full many a glorious morning have I Ken, 230 Funeral, The, 63 Funeral Song, I 67

Garden, The, 269 19 68, 297 Ghost, The, 2 I 3 A Girl, in ancient Greece, 74 Glory be to God for dappled things, 31 Go, happy rose, and interwove, 103 Go, litel book, go, litel myn tragedye, 331 Go, lovely Rose, 104 Golfers, 33 Grave, A, 59 c u v a s , ROBERT, 169 GRAY, THOMAS, 226 The greater horn of the ancient flame was stirred, 193

GASCOIGNE, GEORGE, GAY, JOHN,

Had we but world enough, and time, 239 From Hamlet, 135 HARDY, THOMAS, 2 I3 H . D., 159 H e clasps the crag with crooked hands, 48 Helen, thy beauty is to me, 109 Her Father's Ghortation to Juliet, 49 HERBERT, GEORGE, 69, 142, 17 1 HERBERT OF CHERBURY, LORD, 157 Here is no water but only rock, 70 Here is the ancient floor, 213 Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, 14 Hereunder Jacob Schmidt who, man and bones, 132 HERRICX, ROBERT, 103, 108, 220 Hey Nanny No!, 256 Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advix, 297 From Homage to Sextus Propertius, I 3, I 39 HOPKINS, GERALD MANLEY, 3I, I 15 H O U S M A N , A. B., 32, 214 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!, 67

How the Money's Made, I 51 How vainly men themselves amaze, 269

' I Am of Ireland', 96 I arise from dreams of thee, 35 I have of sorwe so gret woon, 109 I heard a bird at dawn, 82 I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains, 195 I'll carry you off, 83 I'll gaze no more on her bewitching face, 162 From 11 Penseroso., 60 I made a posy, while the day ran by, 171 I said to her, darling, I said, 238 "I saw my Lady Weep", 106 I saw the spiders marching through the air, 62 I stayed the night for shelter at a farm, 208 I Syng of a Mayden, 284 I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, 22 I that in heill wes and gladnes, 91 I wander thro' each charter'd street, 53 From The Idylls of the King, I I 2 Immortal Helix, I 32 In a tissue-thin monotone of blue-gey buds, 136 In Breughel's great picture, the Kermess, I 59 In the days of Prismatic Colour, 221 In the land of turkeys in turkey weather, 54 In their congealed light, 171 In time, the lagoon will be seen, 41 Indeed indeed, 206 Ingrateful Beauty Threatened, 138 Indian Serenade, The, 35 Invocation to Paradise Lost, I 54 It fell upon a holy eve, 287 It little ~rofitsthat an idle king, 196 <

281,326 218, 219, 235 Journey of the Magi, 89 Jumblies, The, 94

JOHNSON, SAMUEL, JONSON, BEN,

222, 252 King sits in Durnferling toune, the, 124 Know, Celia, (since thou art so proud,), 138 Kung walked, 178 KING, HENRY,

From L'Allegro, 68 Lament, I 09 Lament for the Makatis, 91 The land is a desert; nothing will grow there, I 8I LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE, I 52, I 53, I 54

351

352

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

LAYTON, IRVING,26, 33 LEAR, EDWARD, 94 Let them remember Samangan, the bridge and tower, 120 LEWIS,WYNDHAM, 264 Life, 171 Like as the waves make towards the pzbbled shore, 145 Like Sieur Montaign's distinction, 33 Like to the falling of a star, 252 Lily and the Rose, The, I Z I Litany, in Time of Plague, 254 London, 53 The long love that in my heart doth harbour, 79 LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH, 194 From The Lotos-Eaters, gg Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought, 80 Lover Compareth his State to a Ship in perilous Storm tossed on the Sea, The, 48 Lover Complayneth the Unkindnes of his Love, The, I 18 Lover for Shamefastness hideth his Desire within his faithful Heart, The, 79 LOWELL,ROBERT, 62 Lucy Gray; or Solitude, 129, 134-5 Lycidas, 291 LYLY, JOHN, 301 From Macbeth, 46 MAC LEISH, ARCHIBALD, 132, 243 The maidens came, I 21 Man looking into the sea, 59 Manana, I 98 MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER, 195, 289, 304 MARVELL, ANDREW, 60, 239, 269 Merciles Beaute', 160 Mem, 149 MILTON,JOHN,20, 68, 69, I 16,I 54, 291 MOORE, MARIANNE, 12, 18,59, I 15, 141, 221 More had she spoke, but yawned-all Nature nods, 315 The mourners stand around the bed, 81 Mr. Edwards and the Spider, 62 Muse'e des Beaux Arts, 222 My eye, descending from the hill, surveys, 308 My father used to say, 18 My galley, charged with forgetfulness, 48 My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, 298 My lord, hearing lately of your opulence in promises and your house, 42 My lute awake performe the last, I 18 My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, 236 NASHE, THOMAS, 254 Nature that fram'd us of four elements, 195 Nature's first green is gold, 41 "Neither awake . . .", 18 "Never More will the Wind", 159

Author, Title, and First Line lndex "Never Seek to Tell thy Love", 8 Never shall a young man, 2 "The Nightingale, as soon as April Bringeth", 302 Nine times the space that measures day and night, 20 not in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam, 221 Nothing Gold can Stay, 41 Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs, 260 Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she, 304 Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 274

0 quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow, 31 0 thou with dewy locks who lookest down, 6 "0 where have you been, my long, long love, 126 0 who shall, from this Dungeon, raise, 60 0 wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 262 Ode, 120 Ode to a Nightingale, 298 Ode to the West Wind, 262 Of man's first Disobedience, and the Fruit, 154 Of the miscellany, 1 2 Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray, 129 On a huge hill, I 14 On Fame, 17 On Some South African Novelists, 122 On the Death of Ianthe, I 53 On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, 177 On the Late Massacre in Piedmont, I 16 Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee, 177 Or if the air will not permit, 69 Others abide our question. Thou art free., 57 Palinode, A, 251 Paradise Lost, Invocation to, I 54 Paring the Apple, 138 The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, 289 "Past Ruin'd Ilion", I 52 Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, 152 Patriotic Leading, A, 206 Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her, Pied Beauty, 3 I Poem on Lagoons, 41 POE, EDGAR ALLAN, I I 0 POPE,ALEXANDER, 113, 306, 309, 313, 315 Postcard from the Volcano, A, 143 POUND, EZRA, 13, 14, 33, 139, 174, 178,335 Praise of Power, 195 Prayer for his Lady's Life, 14 From The Prelude, 257 From Preludes, 51 PRINCE, F. T., 42 Progress of Beauty, The, 230

II3

353

352

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

LAYTON,IRVING, 26, 33 LEAR, Z D W A R D , 94 Let them remember Samangan, the bridge and tower, 120 L E W I S , W Y N D H A M , 264 Life, I 71 Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, 145 Like Sieur Montaign's distinction, 33 Like to the falling o f a star, 252 Lily and the Rose, The, I 21 Litany, in Time of Plague, 254 London, 53 T h e long love that in my heart doth harbour, 79 L O N G F E L L O W , HENRY W A D S W O R T H , 194 From T h e Lotos-Eaters, gg Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought, 80 Lover Compareth his State to a Ship i n perilous Storm tossed on the Sea, The, 48 Lover Complayneth the Unkindnes of his Love, The, I I 8 Lover for Shamefastness hideth his Desire within his faithful Heart, The, 79 L O W E L L , ROBERT, 62 Lucy Gray; or Solitude, 129, 134-5 LycidaS, 29 I LYLY, J O H N , 301 From Macbeth, 46 MAC L E I S H , ARCHIBALD, 132, 243 T h e maidens came, I 21 Man looking into the sea, 59 Manana, 198 M A R L O W E , CHRISTOPHER, 195, 289, 304 MARVELL, ANDREW, 60, 239, 269 Merciles Beautk, I 60 M e w 149 M I L T O N , J O H N , 20, 68, 69, I 16,I 54, 291 M O O R E , M A R I A N N E , 12, 18,59, 115, 141, 221 More had she spoke, but yawned-all Nature nods, 315 T h e mourners stand around the bed, 8 1 Mr. Edwards and the Spider, 62 Muse'e des Beaux Arts, 222 My eye, descending from the hill, surveys, 308 My father used to say, 18 My galley, charged with forgetfulness, 48 My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, 298 My lord, hearing lately of your opulence in ~romisesand your house, 42 My lute awake performe the last, I 18 My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, 236 THOMAS, 254 Nature that fram'd us of four elements, 195 Nature's first green is gold, 41 "Neither awake . . .", 18 "Never More will the Wind", I 59 NASHE,

Author, Title, and First Line lndex "Never Seek to Tell thy Love", 8 Never shall a young man, 2 "The Nightingale, as soon as April Bringeth", 302 Nine times the space that measures day and night, 20 not in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam, 221 Nothing Gold can Stay, 41 Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs, 260 Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she, 304 Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 274 0 quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow, 31 0 thou with dewy locks who lookest down, 6 " 0 where have you been, my long, long love, 126 0 who shall, from this Dungeon, raise, 60 0 wild West W i n d , thou breath o f Autumn's being, 262 Ode, 120 Ode to a Nightingale, 298 Ode to the West W i n d , 262 O f man's first Disobedience, and the Fruit, 154 O f the miscellany, 12 O f t had I heard o f Lucy Gray, 129 O n a huge hill, I 1 4 O n Fame, I 7 O n Some South African Novelists, 122 O n the Death of Ianthe, I 53 On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, I77 O n the Late Massacre in Piedmont, I 16 Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee, 177 Or i f the air will not permit, 69 Others abide our question. Thou art free., 57

Palinode, A , 251 Paradise Lost, Invocation to, I 54 Paring the Apple, 138 The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, 289 "Past Ruin'd Ilion", I 52 Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, 152 Patriotic Leading, A , 206 Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her, Pied Beauty, 3I Poem on Lagoons, 41 POE, EDGAR ALLAN, I I 0 P O P E , A L E X A N D E R , I 13,306, 309, 313, 31 5 Postcard ftom the Volcano, A, 143 POUND, EZRA,13, 14, 33, 139, 174,178, 335 Praise of Power, 195 Prayer for his Lady's Life, 1 4 From T h e Prelude, 257 From Preludes, 5I PRINCE, P . T., 42 Progress of Beauty, The, 230

II3

353

354

Author, Title, and First Une lndex

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

From T h e Prologue to Pericles,

Spring and All, 5 Spring Strains, I 36

II

Proqice, 29

Stand close around, ye Stygian set, 154 Statue, The, I 54

Recreators, The, 335 Relique, The, 64 Renouncing of Love, A, 146 Rivals, The, 82 ROCHESTER, JOHN

WILMOT, EARL OF,

3 18

"Rose-Cheek'd Laura, Come", I 04 Rose of Love, The, 107 Roundelay, 287 Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row!,

II1

Salt grass silent of hooves, the lake stinks, 52

Satan and Michael, 21 Satan in Hell, 2 0 From A Satire Against Mankind, 318 Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 272 See! from the brake the whirring he as ant springs, 306 Self-Unseeing, The, 2 I 3 SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM, 11, 46, 49, 55, 56, 57, 67, 1341 145, 167, 245, 250 "She dwelt among the Untrodden Ways", 38 SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE, 9, 35, 50, 262 From The Shepherd's Week, 297 SHIRLEY, JAMES, 279, 280 Short History of Texas, A, I 8 I Sic Vita, 252 SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP, 147, 148, 302 SIEGEL, ELI, 41, 74 Silence, 18 Simplex Munditiis, 1x9 Sir Patrick Spence, I 24 "A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal", I 3 I SLUMP,MAXIMILIAN, 81 So shall I live, supposing thou art true, 245 So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, 78 Sometimes with secure delight, 68 Song, A (Carew), 107 Song (Waller), 104 Song from a Play (Yeats), 65 Song from the Beggar's Opera, 68 Song: Muraring Beautie, I 62 From The Song of the Militant Romance, 264 Song: The Owl, 56 Sonnet (Boyd), 246 Sonnets (Shakespeare), 145, 245, 250 From Sordello, 330 SPENSER,EDMUND,107, 287 T h e spirits were in neutral space, before, 21

STEPHENS, JAMES,82 STEVENS, WALLACE, 54, I43 Still to be neat, still to be dressed, 219 Stone, bronze, stone, steel, stone, oakleaves, horses' heels, 204 "Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass", 214 Stop! For thy tread is on an Empire's dust!, 16 Sun Rising, The, 28

Swan and the Cook, The,

I2

Swearing and supperless the Hero sate, 3 I 3 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 69 A sweet disorder in the dress, 220 Sweet were the days when thou didst lodge with Lot, 142 SWIFT, JONATHAN, 230 Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, 9 SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES, 99, 216 SUCKLING, SIR JOHN, 22 Summer Night, 274 Surely among a rich man's flowering lawns, 276 SURREY, HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF, 80 Taking the air rifle from my son's hand, 26 "Tears, Idle Tears", 34 Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, 34 TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD, 34, 48, 56, 99, I I I , I I 2, I 56, I 96, I 98, 274 That insect, without antennae, over its, 40 That time of year thou may'st in me behold, 145 There are portraits and still-lives, I 38 "There died a Myriad", 33 There was a young lady of Lynn, 133 These, in the day when heaven was falling, 32 They went to sea in a Seive, they did, 94 1335. 3 lire 15 groats to stone for making a lion, 174 This little vault, this narrow room, 21 5 This song's to a girl, 285 THOMAS, DYLAN,58, 260 Thi-ovgh Binoculars, I 7 I 'Tis not enough no harshness give offence, I 13 T o a Lady who did Sing Excellently, 157 T o Autumn, 272 T o Celia, 23 5 T o fair Fidele's grassy tomb, 168 T o Helen, log T o His Coy Mistress, 239 T o My lnconstant Mistress, 244 T o Night, g T o the Dawn, that it Hasten Not, 304

355

356

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

To the Memory of Mr. Oldham, 121 To the Rose, 103 T o sing a song that old was sung, I I To Spring, 6 To Welcome in the Spring, 301 CHARLES, 40, 1 ~ 8 I71 , TOMLINSON, Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, 46 I 58 TOWNSHEND, AURELIAN, Triumphal March, 204 Trochee trips from long to short, 78 Troilus and Criseyde, Finale to, 331 Ulysses, 196 The unpurged images of day recede, 320 Upon the Sudden Restraint of the Earl of Somerset, then Falling from Favour, 253 Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!, 201 Venice (Pound), I 74 Venice (Ruskin), I 76 Vestiges, 52 Violets, 108 Virtue, 69 (Copley), 238 "Vivamus, Mea Lesbia Vivamus, mea Lesbia, Atque Amemus (Campion), 236

. . ."

WALLER, EDMUND, 104 From The Waste Land, 70, 72 Welcome, maids of honour, 108 Well I remember how you smiled, 153 Welsh Incident, 169 Were I (who to my cost already am, 318 "Wha is that at my Bower Door?", 242 What are the hopes of man? Old Egypt's King, I 7 What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade, 309 What Bird so sings, yet so dos wayle?, 301 Whatever spirit, careless of his charge, I 13 When cats run home and light is come, 56 When daisies pied and violets blue, 55 When first Diana leaves her bed, 230 When first the College Rolls receive his Name, 326 When icicles hang by the wall, 56 When our rude and unfashion'd words, that long, 157 When my grave is broke up again, 64 When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes, I47 When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew, 49 When thou, poor excommunicate, 244 When we are dead, some Hunting-boy will pass, I 54 When, when, and whenever death closes our eyelids, 139 Where ends our chancel in a vaulted space, 327 Where, like a pillow on a bed, 247 While in the tall buildings, I 5 I

Author, Title, and First Line lndex

357

The whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay, 107 "Who knocks?" "I. who was beautiful., 21 2Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm, 63 WILLIAMS, WILLIAM CARLOS, 5 51, 136, 151, 159, 172 From Windsor Forest, 306 Winter., 56 T h e winter evening settles down, 51 Witch of Coos, The, 208 With blackest moss the flower-pots, 198 With how sad steps, 0 Moon, thou climb'st the skies, 147 With innocent wide penguin eyes, three, I r 5 . . . with its baby rivers and little towns, each with its abbey or its cathedral, 141 "With Rue my Heart is Laden", 214 "Without Invention", 5 I Without invention nothing is well spaced, 51 Witness this army of such mass and charge, 135 A woman's beauty is like a white, 65 WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM, 38, 128, 131, 177, 257 WOTTON, SIR HENRY, 253 Wouldst thou hear what man can say, 218 WYATT, SIR THOMAS, 48, 79, I 18, 146 Yet once more, 0 ye Laurels, and once more, 291 "ygUDuh", 207 You, Andrew Marvell, 243 You gain the inmost chambers, gain at last, 330 You praise the firm rzstraint with which they wnte, You that do search for every purling spring, 148 Your j;en two wol slee me sodenly, 160

122