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. H . AUDEN. "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, In-
corporated, 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 hIich-
igan 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 , Har-
court. 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 repre-
sentative.
-
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
Collected Poems 1 9 0 9 - 1 9 3 5 Copyright, 1 9 3 6 , by Harcourt, Brace and Com-
pany, Inc. Reprinted by permission of Harcourt, Brace and Company, Inc.,
and Faber and Faber, Limited. This permission also applies to four brief ex-
tracts 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 Win-
ston, 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. Re-
printed 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. Hous-
man'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. Copy-
right, 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 Col-
lected 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.
P. T. PRINCE. "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 After-
noons 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 per-
mission 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 Mac-
millan 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 I. He said: Mes enfants, w h y does no one study the great Odes?
of Dylan Thomas. Copyright, 1 9 5 2 , by Dylan Thomas. Reprinted by per-
mission of New Directions and J. M. Dent & Sons, Limited. 2. Thg? Odes can exhilarate (lift the will).
CHARLES TOMLINSON. "The Crane" and "Paring the Apple" from Seeing Is Believ- 3. Can give awareness (sharpen the vision, help you spot the bird).
ing. Copyright, 1 9 5 8 , by Charles Tomlinson. Reprinted by permission of
McDowell, Obolensky, Inc. "Through Binoculars" from The Necklace, The , 4 . C a n teach dissociation.
Fantasy Press, 1 9 5 5 . Reprinted by permission of the author. 5. Ca7z cause resentment (against evil).
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS. "Spring and All" and "Spring Strains" from The Col-
lected Earlier Poems. Copyright, 1 9 3 8 , 1 9 5 1 , by William Carlos Williams. 6. Bri:zg you near to being useful to your father and mother, and go
"The Dance" from The Collected Later Poems. Copyright, 1 9 4 4 , 1 9 4 8 , 1950, on serving your sovran.
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 , 7. Remember the names of many birds, animals, plants and trees.
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," "An- -THE ANALECTS OF CONFUCIUS
cestral 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 translated by Ezra Pound
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.
mnnnn Acknowledgments rvlnrv~ Contents

Several friends and colleagues have been indirect contributors to this Acknowledgments, viii
book, notably Professor H. M. McLuhan, who extricated from Aristotle
the conception of the "plot" of a lyric poem, and first suggested to me Note to the Teacher, xvii
the method of exposition by questioning; and Professor Donald Davie, Note to the Student, xix
from whose Purity of Diction ill E~zglishPoetry I have taken the defini-
tion of "diction" I use in Part One. Professors M a r l ~ i nhtudrick and A Note on the Texts, xxi
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 PART ONE: USEFUL TERMS
Toronto. But to anyone familiar with the literature of the twentieth
century the most pervasive debt of all will need no identification. It was TJseful Terms, I
Ezra Pound who convinced writers and readers of two generations that For Anne Gregory WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 2
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
Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words, 5
to the most enduring poetic pleasure.
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 n_nnrvl Contents

Several friends and colleagues have been indirect contributors to this Acknowledgments, viii
book, notably Professor H. R4. McLuhan, who extricated from Aristotle
the conception of the "plot" of a lyric poem, and first suggested to me Note to the Teacher, xvii
the method of exposition by questioning; and Professor Donald Davie, Note to the Student, xix
from whose Purity of Diction in English Poetry I have taken the defini-
tion of "diction" I use in Part One. Professors Marvin Mudrick and A Note on the Texts, xxi
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 PART ONE: USEFUL TERMS
Toronto. But to anyone familiar with the literature of the twentieth
century the most pervasive debt of all will need no identification. It was Useful Terms, I
Ezra Pound who convinced writers and readers of two generations that For Anne Gregory WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 2
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
Diction: 'the Family Alliances of the Words, 5
to the most enduring poetic pleasure.
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
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
Cape Ann T. S. ELIOT, 31
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
The Image: What the Words Actually Name, 37
She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 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 .. .
SIR THOMAS WYATT, 48
Her Father's Exhortation to Juliet
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 49
From Preludes T. s. ELIOT, 5 1
'Without Invention" WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS,
Vestiges BASIL BUNTING, 52
London WILLIAM BLAKE, 53
Dance of the Macabre Mice WALLACE STEVENS,
Spring WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 55
Winter WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 56
Contents xi
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
ANDREW MARVELL, 60
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
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
Meter, 75
T h e Expiration JOHN DONNE, 78
. .
T h e Lover for Shamefastness . SIR THOMAS WYATT, 79
Complaint of a Lover Rebuked
HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY, 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
Song and Sonority, 98
51
From T h e Lotus Eaters ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, gg
A Ballad of Burdens ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE, gg
54 Follow Your Saint THOMAS CAMPION, 102
T o the Rose ROBERT HERRICK, 103
Song EDMUND WALLER, 104

xii 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, 121
Narrative and Meaning, 124
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
Immortal Helix ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, I 32
Plot: What Happens in the Poem, 133
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
Plot and "Form," 144
Sonnet 60 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I 4 5
Sonnet 73 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 145
Contents xiii
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
Plot and Syntax, 150
I 12 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
LORD HERBERT O F CHERBURY, I 5 7
A Dialogue betwixt Time and a Pilgrim
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
Presenting the Subject, 167
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
Canto XI11 EZRA POUND, 178
A Short History of Texas RONALD DUNCAN, 181
 Contents xiii
xii Contents
A Renouncing of Love SIR THOMAS WYATT, 146
"Rose-Cheek'dLaura, Come" THOMAS CAMPION, 104 Astrophel and Stella, XXXI SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 147
"I Saw My Lady WeepeH ANONYMOUS, 106 Astrophel and Stella, VII SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 147
A Song THOMAS CAREW, 107 Astrophel and Stella, XV SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, 148
The Rose of Love EDMUND SPENSER, 107 Meru WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 149
Violets ROBERT HERRICK, I 08
Lament GEOFFREY CHAUCER, I 09
To Helen EDGAR ALLAN POE, I Io
Plot and Syntax, 150
From The Idylls of the King ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, I 12 How the Money's Made WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 1 5 1
From An Essay on Criticism ALEXANDER POPE, I I 3 "Past Ruin'd Ilion" WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, I 52
From Bird-Witted MARIANNE MOORE, I I 5 On the Death of Ianthe WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, 153
On the Late Massacre in Piedmont JOHN MILTON, 116 Dirce WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR, 154
"At the Round Earth's Imagined Corners Blow" The Statue HILAIRE BELLOC, 154
JOHN W N N E , I I 7 Invocation to Paradise Lost JOHN MILTON, I 54
The Lover Complayneth the Unkindness of His Love "Come Down, 0 Maid" ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 156
SIR THOMAS WYATT, I I 8 To a Lady Who Did Sing Excellently
Ode BASIL BUNTING, 120 LORD HERBERT OF CHERBURY, I 5 7
The Lily and the Rose ANONYMOUS, 1 2 1 A Dialogue betwixt Time and a Pilgrim
T o the Memory of Mr. Oldham JOHN DRYDEN, 1 2 1 AURELIAN TOWNSHEND, I 58
Never hlore Will t h e Wind. H. D., 159
The Dance WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 59
Narrative and Meaning, 124
Merciles B e a u t e GEOFFREY CHAUCER, 160
Sir P a t r i c k Spence ANONYMOUS, 1 2 4 Song: Murdring Beautie THOMAS CAREW, 162
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" PART TWO: DISCRIMINATIONS
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, I 3 I
Immortal Helix ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, I 32 Discriminations, 165

Presenting the Subject, 167

Plot: What Happens in the Poem, 133
Funeral Song WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 167
Spring Strains WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, I 36
A Dirge in Cymbeline WILLIAM COLLINS, 168
Paring the Apple CHARLES TOMLINSON, 138
Welsh Incident ROBERT GRAVES, 169
I n g r a t e f u l Beauty Threatened THOMAS CAREW, 138
Through Binoculars CHARLES TOMLINSON, I 71
From Homage to Sextus P r o p e r t i u s EZRA POUND, 1 3 9
Life GEORGE HERBERT, I 71
England MARIANNE MOORE, I 41
The Descent WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS, 172
Decay GEORGE HERBERT, 142
Venice EZRA POUND, 174
A P o s t c a r d from the Volcano WALLACE STEVENS, I 4 3
Venice JOHN RUSKIN, I 76
On the E x t i n c t i o n of the Venetian Republic

Plot and "Form," 144 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, I 7 7

Canto XI11 EZRA POUND, 178
Sonnet 60 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I 4 5
A Short History of Texas RONALD DUNCAN, 1 8 1
Sonnet 73 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, I 45
xiv Contents Contents xv
To My Inconstant Mistress THOMAS CARBW, 244
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment, 192
Sonnet 87 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245
The Death of Ulysses Sonnet 93 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245
DANTE ALIGHIERI (trans. by L. BINYON), 192 Sonnet MARK ALEXANDER BOYD, 246
Praise of Power CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE, 195 The Extasie JOHNDONNE, 247
Ulysses ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, I 96
Mariana ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 198 Transience: Seven Poems, 250
The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church
ROBERT BROWNING, 201
Sonnet 33 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 250

Triumphal March T. s. ELIOT, 204

A Palinode EDMUND BOLTON, 251

A Patriotic Leading GERTRUDE STEIN, 206

Sic Vita HENRY KING, 252
"ygLIDuh" E. E. CUMMINGS, 207 Upon the Sudden Restraint. . . . SIR HENRY WOTTON, 253

The Witch of Coos ROBERT FROST, 208 Fish in the Unruffled Lakes w. H. AUDEN, 253
The Ghost WALTER DE LA MARE, 213 Litany, in Time of Plague THOMAS NASHE, 254
The Self-unseeing THOMAS HARDY, 213 Hey Nonny No! ANONYMOUS, 256
"With Rue My Heart Is Laden" A. E. HOUSMAN, 214
"Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass" A. E. HOUSMAN, 2I 4 Four Trances, 257
"After a Hundred Years" EMILY DICKINSON, 21 5
From The Prelude WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 257
Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villers THOMAS CAREW, 215 Fern Hill DYLAN THOMAS, 260
A Baby's Epitaph ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE, 216
Ode to the West Wind PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 262
Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. BEN JONSON,218 From The Song of the Militant Romance
WYNDHAM LEWIS, 264

Poise, 219
Four Landscapes, 269
Simplex Munditiis BEN JONSON,219
Delight in Disorder ROBERT HERRICK, 220 The Garden ANDREW MARVELL, 269
In the Days of Prismatic Colour MARIANNE MOORE, 221 T o Autumn JOHNKEATS, 272
MusCe des Beaux Arts w. H. AUDEN, 222 Summer Night ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 274

The Exequy HENRY KING, 222 Ancestral Houses WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 276

An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

THOMAS GRAY, 226
PART THREE: 'CRADITIONS
The Progress of Beauty SWIPT, 230
JONATHAN

Traditions, 279
Love and Time: Twelve Poems, 235 Adam Lay Ibowndyn ANONYMOUS, 284
I Sing of a Mayden ANONYMOUS, 284
T o Celia BEN JONSON,235 Carol RONALD DUNCAN, 285
Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus THOMAS CAMPION, 236
Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus CATULLUS, 236
The Pastoral Tradition, 287
"Vivamus, Mea Lesbia . . ." FRANK O. COPLEY, 238
T o His Coy Mistress ANDREW MARVELL, 239 Roundelay EDMUND SPENSER, 287
Wha Is That at My Bower Door? ROBERT BURNS, 242 The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
You, Andrew Marvell ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, 243 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWB, 289

xiv Contents Contents xv

T o My Inconstant Mistress THOMAS CARBW, 244
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment, 192
Sonnet 87 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245
The Death of Lllysses Sonnet 93 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 245
(trans. by L. BINYON), 192
DANTE ALIGHIERI Sonnet MARK ALEXANDER BOYD, 246
Praise of Power CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE, 195 The Extasie JOHNDONNE, 247
Ulysses ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, I 96
Mariana ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 198 Transience: Seven Poems, 250
The Bishop Orders His Tomb a t Saint Praxed's Church
ROBERT BROWNING, 201
Sonnet 33 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 250

Triumphal March T. s. ELIOT, 204 A Palinode EDMUND BOLTON, 251

A Patriotic Leading GERTRUDE STEIN, 206 Sic Vita HENRY KING, 252
"ygUDuh E. E. CUMMINGS, 207 Upon the Sudden Restraint. . . . SIR HENRY WOTTON, 253

The Witch of Coos ROBERT FROST, 208 Fish in the Unruffled Lakes w. H. AUDEN, 253
The Ghost WALTER DE LA MARE, 2 1 3 Litany, in Time of Plague THOMAS NASHE, 254
The Self-unseeing THOMAS HARDY, 213 Hey Nonny No! ANONYMOUS, 256
"With Rue My Heart Is Laden" A. E. HOUSMAN, 214
"Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass" A. E. HOUSMAN, 214 Four Trances, 257
"After a Hundred Years" EMILY DICKINSON, 2 I 5 From The Prelude WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, 257
Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villers THOMAS CAREW, 215 Fern Hill DYLAN THOMAS, 260
A Baby's Epitaph ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE, 216 Ode to the West Wind PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, 262
Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. BEN JONSON,218 From The Song of the Militant Romance
WYNDHAM LEWIS, 264

Poise, 219
Four Landscapes, 269
Simplex Munditiis BEN JONSON,219
Delight in Disorder ROBERT HERRICK, 220 The Garden ANDREW MARVELL, 269
In the Days of Prismatic Colour MARIANNE MOORE, 221 T o Autumn JOHNKEATS, 272
MusCe des Beaux Arts w. H. AUDEN, 222 Summer Night ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 274

The Exequy HENRY KING, 222 Ancestral Houses WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS, 276

An Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

THOMAS GRAY, 226
PART THREE: TRADITIONS
The Progress of Beauty SWIPT, 230
JONATHAN

Traditions, 279

Love and Time: Twelve Poems, 235 Adam Lay Ibowndyn ANONYMOUS, 284
I Sing of a Mayden ANONYMOUS, 284
T o Celia BEN JONSON,235 Carol RONALD DUNCAN, 285
Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus THOMAS CAMPION, 236
Vivamus Mea Lesbia Atque Amemus CATULLUS, 236
The Pastoral Tradition, 287
"Vivamus, Mea Lesbia . . ." FRANK O. COPLEY, 238
T o His Coy Mistress ANDREW MARVELL, 239 Roundelay EDMUND SPENSER, 287
Wha Is That at My Bower Door? ROBERT BURNS, 242 The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
You, Andrew Marvell ARCHIBALD MAC LEISH, 243 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWB, 289
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
From Cooper's Hill SIR JOHN DENHAM, 308
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
Character of Shimei JOHN DRYDEN, 323
Character of Og JOHN DRYDEN, 325
Character of the Scholar SAMUEL JOHNSON,326
Character of the Vicar GEORGE CRABBE, 327
From Sordello ROBERT BROWNING, 330
Finale to Troilus and C r i s e ~ d e GEOFFREY CHAUCER,
331
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 assump-
tions: ( 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 mani-
fest. 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 nsvvvl Npte to the Student
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 informa-
A conscientious effort has been made to include in this book nothing that
tion at the disposal of the perceptive student to take him a long way on
seems likely to waste your time. Nevertheless, you aren't expected to ad-
his own; and while a method of teaching is implicit in the book, the ex-
mire everything you find here. T h e book contains numerous imperfect
perienced teacher will be able to makehis own modifications without,
poems, some period pieces, and a few specimens with which something
it is hoped, finding that the book gets in his way. Much of the com-
mentary has been kept sufficiently gnomic not to impede the teacher who
has gone badly wrong. -
Y ~ Umay sometimes be disturbed by the sparseness of annotation. An
wants to modify or dissent from it. There is even profit to be derived some-
attempt has been made to explain everything that is (a) inaccessible and
times from arguing with it, though it has not been introduced to stimulate
(b) necessary to the grasp of the poem. It is often surprising how much
argument but to throw attention constantly back to the poems, where
peripheral information you don't really need, though sometimes the only
the answers to all the questions lie.
way to discover its unimportance is to acquire it. O n the other hand, the
As every teacher knows, enlightened discussion in the classroom is
poet's art is in part the art of condensing; it is quite normal for a few lines
never misdirected so long as no one forgets that art does not exist to be
to draw on a wide range of materials, and the need for occasional bits of
argued about, but to be perceived and assimilated.
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 gener-
ally 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 imi-
tation 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 mani-
fest. 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 m n m m Note to the Student
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 informa-
A conscientious effort has been made to include in this book nothing that
tion at the disposal of the perceptive student to take him a long way on
seems likely to waste your time. Nevertheless, you aren't expected to ad-
his own; and while a method of teaching is implicit in the book, the ex-
mire everything you find here. T h e book contains numerous imperfect
perienced teacher will be able to make his own modifications without,
poems, some period pieces, and a few specimens with which something
it is hoped, finding that the book gets in his way. Much of the com-
has gone badly wrong.
mentary has been kept sufficiently gnomic not to impede the teacher who
You may sometimes be disturbed by the sparseness of annotation. An
wants to modify or dissent from it. There is even profit to be derived some-
attempt has been made to explain everything that is (a) inaccessible and
times from arguing with it, though it has not been introduced to stimulate
(b) necessary to the grasp of the poem. It is often surprising how much
argument but to throw attention constantly back to the poems, where
peripheral information you don't really need, though sometimes the only
the answers to all the questions lie.
way to discover its unimportance is to acquire it. On the other hand, the
As every teacher knows, enlightened discussion in the classroom is
poet's art is in part the art of condensing; it is quite normal for a few lines
never misdirected so long as no one forgets that art does not exist to be
to draw on a wide range of materials, and the need for occasional bits of
argued about, but to be perceived and assimilated.
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 gener-
ally 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 imi-
tation 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 pri-
marily 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 Shake-
speare'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. Occa-
sionally 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 1

m 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 dis-
crimination at our command. There are uncomplicated ways of begin-
ning, but there isn't an uncomplicated place to begin. An eminent spe-
cialist 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 dis-
crimination at our command. There are uncomplicated ways of begin-
ning, but there isn't an uncomplicated place to begin. An eminent spe-
cialist 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 3

comprehension of these first examples by returning to them when you 1s she content with this situation? Is she fully aware of its implica-
have read more. tions?
5. Is there any indication that she is flattered by the effect on young
men of her formidable beauty?
FOR ANNE GREGORY 6. What does "despair" mean in stanza 27 in stanza I ?
W i l l i a m Butler Yeats, 1930 7. What is the effect of "carrot" in line g? Would it matter if "au-
burn" were substituted?
'Never shall a young man, 8. W e gather from stanza 2 that she now wants to be loved in a dif-
Thrown into despair ferent way. Does she know any more about herself than that? Does "for
By those great honey-coloured myself alone" convey a precise and discernible meaning? (If you think
Ramparts at your ear so, try to say what it is.) Is her desire ridiculous? Is it understandable?
Love you for yourself alone g. Now consider that ramparts not only shut the besieger out but hem
And not your ?ellow hair.' the besieged in. Is she aware of this fact? Has it something to do with
the indifference of the young men to "herself alone"?
'But I can get a hair-dye 10. In stanza 3, "found" suggests a special search. What does this
And set such colour there, suggest about the importance of the problem her difficulty presents to
Brown, or black, or carrot, wise men?
That young men in despair Do you think this suggestion is wholeheartedly serious?
May love me for myself alone 11. Consider the implications of "only God could love you for your-
And not my yellow hair.' self alone." Are they wholly complimentary? Does the ~ h r a s e"my dear"
'I heard an old religious man alter these implications or merely divert her attention from them?
But yesternight declare 12.Does the speaker mean that the girl herself (as distinguished
That he had found a text to prove from the spectacle presented by her hair) is unlovable? aloof? elusive?
That only God, my dear, nonexistent? or just inaccessible? (Consider that God is not only com-
Could love you for yourself alone passionate but also all-knowing.)
And not your yellow hair.' 13. How does the speaker present this opinion to the girl? Bluntly?
Tactfully? Slyly? Affectionately?
Questions 14. inside* the fact that he speaks twice in the poem. Does she mis-
I. Since there are two speakers here, there has presumably been some understand him the first time? Do you think he was then purposely
previous conversation. What do you think was said just before the poem avoiding the implications he brings forward in the last stanza? Why?
opens? 15. W h y do you think she takes no notice of the striking phrase he
2. What phrase in the first stanza seizes the attention? Why? employs in his first speech?
3. Compare the phrases "those great honey-coloured ramparts at your 16. H e calls her "my dear." Do you think his relation to her is like a
ear" and "your yellow hair." How do they differ in the kind of impor- lover's? a friend's? an elderly friend's? Do they talk intimately or for-
tance they attach to their subject? mally?
What feelings does the more elaborate phrase imply? Awe? Admira- 17. Does the poem imply anything about the effect of beauty (and
tion? Amusement? Some mixture of the three? hence suitors) on the woman who possesses it? Is the girl vain? Try to
Is the other phrase belittling, matter-of-fact, playful, or just service- imagine the tone in which she would have asked the initial question,
able? before the poem started.
What can you tell about the feeling the speaker of the first stanza has 18. Does the poem imply that beauty and self-knowledge are incom-
for the girl? patible, or merely that the girl is in some respects immature?
4. W h o is usually thrown into despair by the presence of ramparts? 19.When you first read the poem, did you suppose that anything
What does this suggest about the prospect the girl presents to her lovers? 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 slnrvvl Utctton: Y he Pamtly
an image into the poem. (Image: the thing the word actually names. It
isn't necessarily something to visualize.)
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 vines-

Lifeless in appearance, sluggish

dazed spring approaches-

T 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 slnrvvl Diction: The Family
an image into the poem. (Image: the thing the word actually names. It
isn't necessarily something to visualize.)
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 vines-

Lifeless in appearance, sluggish

dazed spring approaches-

T h e y enter the new world naked,

cold, uncertain of all
 6 Useful Terms
save that they enter. All about them
the cold, familiar wind-
Now the grass, tomorrow
the stiff curl of wildcarrot leaf
One by one objects are defined-
I t quickens: clarity, outline of leaf
But now the stark dignity of
entrance-Still, the profound change
has come upon them : rooted, they
grip down and begin to awaken
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!
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,
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. 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 pro-
long 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 7
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
2C quickly senses what area of the language is being used, and recognize.
any departure from it-like the word "ramparts" in For Anne Gregory-
as 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.
Questions
Spring and All
5
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 repro-
duced 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 pos-
sesses 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 scat-
tering" 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?
 Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words 9
8 Useful Terms 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
I. What is Spring being compared to throughout the poem? AS IMPERCEPTIBLY AS GRIEF
2. Does line 5 refer to anything that actually happens?
Emily Dickinson, c. 1866

3. Why is the head in line 1 5 "languished"?

4. Does the effect of this poem depend on one's following the sense As imperceptibly as grief
of the sentences in it, or can one get it from the atmosphere of indi- T h e Summer lapsed away,-
vidual words? Does the previous poem, Spring and All, work in the Too imperceptible, at last,
same way? Has Blake gained anything by writing explicit grammatical T o seem like perfidy.
sentences? What?
A quietness distilled,
j. "Spring," unlike, for instance, the moon, is not something you can
As twilight long begun,
see. A landscape picture labeled "Spring" is simply a picture of some
Or Nature, spending with herself
scenery where the phenomenon called "spring" has already occurred, or
Sequestered afternoon.
is in process of occurring. Bearing this in mind, try to explain the indi-
rect approach these two poets have taken to their theme. Does one seem T h e dusk drew earlier in,
to you more successful than the other? Why? T h e morning foreign shone,-
6. Now try to explain the use to which each poet puts the diction he A courteous, yet harrowing grace,
employs. As guest who would be gone.

And thus, without a wing,

NEVER SEEK TO TELL THY LOVE Or service of a keel,
William Blake, c. I 793 Our summer made her light escape
15
Into the beautiful.
Never seek to tell thy love
Questions
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move I . What sort of diction would the short lines and simple stanzas lead

Silently, invisibly. you to expect?

2. How often does the author surprise you?

I told my love, I told my love, 3. What does the last line mean? Does it refer to a place, a state, or
I told her all my heart, what? Are there other examples in the poem of abstractions treated with
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears- the offhand confidence with which one normally treats quite specific
Ah, she doth depart. 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, invisibly- TO NIGHT
0, was no deny. Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1821

Questions Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,

I . Locate the effect produced in this poem by a single word which Spirit of Night!
seems to have come from outside its normal diction. Out of the misty eastern cave,
2. Blake wrote this poem some ten years after he published T o Spring.

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words 9

8 Useful Terms 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
I.What is Spring being compared to throughout the AS IMPERCEPTIBLY AS GRIEF
2. Does line 5 refer to anything that actually happens?
Emily Dickinson, c. I 866
3. Why is the head in line I j "languished"?
4. Does the effect of this poem depend on one's following the sense As imperceptibly as grief
of the sentences in it, or can one get it from the atmosphere of indi- T h e Summer lapsed away,-
vidual words? Does the previous poem, Spring and All, work in the Too imperceptible, at last,
same way? Has Blake gained anything by writing explicit grammatical T o seem like perfidy.
sentences? What?
A quietness distilled,
5. "Spring," unlike, for instance, the moon, is not something you can
As twilight long begun,
see. A landscape picture labeled "Spring" is simply a picture of some
Or Nature, spending with herself
scenery where the heno omen on called ''spring1' has already occurred, or
Sequestered afternoon.
is in process of occurring. Bearing this in mind, try to explain the indi-
rect approach these two poets have taken to their theme. Does one seem T h e dusk drew earlier in,
to you more successful than the other? Why? T h e morning foreign shone,-
6. Now try to explain the use to which each poet puts the diction he A courteous, yet harrowing grace,
employs. As guest who would be gone.

And thus, without a wing,

NEVER SEEK TO TELL THY LOVE Or service of a keel,
William Blake, c. I 793 Our summer made her light escape
'5
Into the beautiful.
Never seek to tell thy love
Questions
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move I . What sort of diction would the short lines and simple stanzas lead

Silently, invisibly. you to expect?

2. How often does the author surprise you?

I told my love, I told my love, 3. What does the last line mean? Does it refer to a place, a state, or
I told her all my heart, what? Are there other examples in the poem of abstractions treated with
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears- the offhand confidence with which one normally treats quite specific
Ah, she doth depart. 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, invisibly- TO NIGHT
0 , was no deny. Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1821

Questions Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,

I . Locate the effect produced in this poem by a single word which Spirit of Night!
seems to have come from outside its normal diction. Out of the misty eastern cave,
2. Blake wrote this poem some ten years after he published To Spring.
10 Useful Terms Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words 11

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 wand-
Come, 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.
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 soon-
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
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 associ-
ated 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
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, 10

I ask of thee, beloved Night- And that to hear an old man sing
Swift be thine approaching flight, May to your wishes pleasure bring,
Come soon, soon! I life would wish, and that I might
Waste it for you like taper-light.
Questions
I . If the word had turned u p in this poem, would it have An eerie conception. T h e poet Gower had been dead for two hundred
surprised you? the word "sequesteredq? the word "harrowing"? years when the play to which he acts as master of ceremonies was staged.
1. W h y does Shelley use "thee," "thou," "thy," and "thine" instead of Ember-eves were the festive nights before the three-day fasts called
"you" and "your? ember days. Holy ales were parties held to raise church funds.
12 Useful Terms
Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words 13

THE SWAN AND THE COOK to keep their own company, like elite troops, and have generally been
Marianne Moore, 1953 reserved for somewhat more formal situations than the staple Anglo-
Saxon monosyllables. Their presence in the language provides the poet
with a substantial ready-made diction from whose resources many kinds
Of the miscellany
of effects can be drawn. T h e familiar social comedy of periphrasis en-
I n a man's aviary,
countering blunt speech ("A factual discrepancy? It's a lie!") has its
A swan swam, and a goose waddled:
counterpart in these two levels of English vocabulary. T h e conflict or
One a sublime sight that made the garden complete;
intercourse between them is capable of endless adjustment and refine-
Or so the owner thought; and one, a bird to eat. . 5 ment :
One enhanced the flowers; one stayed near the house and puddled.
They would ornament the moat simultaneously,
No, this my hand will rather
Now and then side by side or were seen converging;
T h e multitudinous seas incarnadine,
At times merely drifting, again were submerging,
Making the green one red.
Apparently looking for something illusory.
-Shakespeare, Macbeth, 11, i
One day the cook, who had had an extra drop,
Took the swan for the goose, held it u p
Shakespeare here puts two Latin words, chosen for their orotundity,
By the neck, would have cut its throat and had it simmering;
amidst thirteen native ones.
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 From HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS
And said, 'What! make so sweet a singer into soup! Ezra Pound, 19I 7
Dear, dear; God forbid murder to which my hand could stoop.
Close a throat whose uses are delectable!"
Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her,
20
There are enough women in hell,
So when the horseman is hovered by perils too dire to outleap,
quite enough beautiful women,
Sweet speech does no harm-none at all.
Iope, and Tyro, and Pasiphae, and the formal girls of Achaia,
(From the French of La Fontaine, I 62 I -I 695)
And out of Troad, and from the Campania, 5 ,
Death has his tooth in the lot,
Questions Avernus lusts for the lot of them,
I . W h a t is the difference between "the miscellany in a man's aviary" Beauty is not eternal, no man has perennial fortune,
and "the birds on a man's grounds"? Slow foot, or swift foot, death delays but for a season.
2. Does this poem conduct itself with elegance and precision? with
mock formality? with seriousness and intimacy? with detachment? coldly, "Perskphone" has four syllables, "Iope" has three. Persephone and
remotely? with good-humored familiarity? How do you know? Dis were the Queen and King of Avernus (the infernal regions). Look
3 . If you retell the story in words of one syllable, what effects do you u p the other ladies and countries if you like, but they have an adequate
lose? gain? effect simply as a list.
4. Now t w to identify the prevailing diction of the poem, and find
Questions
three places &here effecis are secured by departing from it.
I. T r y to distinguish the diction of line 6 from that of line 9.
2. What is the effect of "formal" in line 4?
Some 40 per cent of the English vocabulary, by some estimates, is
These words have tended
3. Does line 7 simply repeat line 6 in different words, or does it n ~ a k e
derived from the Latin (often
its statement with a slightly different degree of gravity? Explain.
 Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words 15
14 Useful Terms
-might have been observed in the twentieth century instead of the
PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LlFE fourteenth, and but for a few alterations of spelling, Chaucer's account
From Propertius, Elegiae, Lib. iii, 26 doesn't date in the slightest, after nearly six hundred years. T h e Latin
Ezra Pound, I g I I 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
Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm,
totally unaffected by the passage of time, no chronological order what-
Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness.
ever has been observed in making the selections. It will be time enough
So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus
when we come to Part 3 (page 279) to begin sorting out the poets into
Ye might let one remain above with us.
their centuries.
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. 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 lan-
guage? (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 bed-

T h e slakke skyn aboute his nekke shaketh

Whil that he sang, so chaunteth he and craketh

Diction: The Family Alliances of the Words 15

14 Useful Terms
-might have been observed in the twentieth century instead of the
PRAYER FOR HIS LADY'S LlFE fourteenth, and but for a few alterations of spelling, Chaucer's account
From Propertius, Elegiae, Lib. iii, 26 doesn't date in the slightest, after nearly six hundred years. T h e Latin
Ezra Pound, 19I I 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
Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm,
totally unaffected by the passage of time, no chronological order what-
Do thou, Pluto, bring here no greater harshness.
ever has been observed in making the selections. It will be time enough
So many thousand beauties are gone down to Avernus
when we come to Part 3 (page 279) to begin sorting out the poets into
Ye might let one remain above with us.
their centuries.
With you is Iope, with you the white-gleaming Tyro, 5
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. 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 lan-
guage? (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 bed-

T h e slakke skyn aboute his nekke shaketh

Whil that he sang, so chaunteth he and craketh

'Tone: The Speaker's
Sense of His Sittration
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.
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.
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!
m 'Tone: The Speaker's
Sense of His Situation
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.
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.
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
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 17
Is the spot marked with no colossal bust,
Nor column trophied for triumphal show?
None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, 5
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
O N FAME
George Gordon, Lord Byron, I 8 18
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, 5
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
Questions
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.
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 17
Is the spot marked with no colossal bust,
Nor column trophied for triumphal show?
None; but the moral's truth tells simpler so, 5
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
O N FAME
George Gordon, Lord Byron, I 8 I 8
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, 5
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
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 Useful Terms Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 19
gloved fist on hip
SILENCE & the scowl of a cannibal)
Marianne Moore, 1924 there's your mineral
general animal
My father used to say,
'Superior people never make long visits, (five foot five)
have to be shown Longfellow's grave neither dead
or the glass flowers at Harvard. nor alive
Self-reliant like the cat- (in real the rain)
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth- Questions
they sometimes enjoy solitude, I. What object is the speaker pointing to? (Consider lines 7, I I , and
and can be robbed of speech 16.)
by speech which has delighted them. 2. Why is "real" (line 16) moved out of its expected position?
T h e deepest feeling alwavs shows itself in silence; 3. T h e speaker's attitude to the general is unmistakable. T h e tone also
not in silence, but restraint.' implies his attitude to his hearer. Try to determine what this is. Do you
Nor was he insincere in saying, 'Make my house your inn'. think "your" refers to someone in particular, or does it simply distin-
Inns are not residences. guish 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 "AND IF I DID WHAT THEN?"
a somewhat prim admonition addressed by the writer directly to the George Gascoigne, c. I 573
reader. That is, the imagined situation changes completely. Does the
tone become less attractive? 'And if I did, what then?
2. What relationship between writer and reader is set up by attrib- Are you aggrieved therefore?
uting these sentiments to "my father"? T h e sea hath fish for every man,
3. Is the tone of the poem delicate? intimate? prissy? formal? forth- Arid what would you have more?'
right? oratorical? tactful?
T h u s did my Mistress once
Amaze my mind with doubt;
#'NEITHER AWAKE ..
.'I And popped a question for the nonce,
E. E. Cummings, 1950 T o beat my brains about.

neither awake Whereto I thus replied,

(there's your general 'Each fisherman can wish
yas buy gad) That all the seas at every tide
nor asleep Were his alone to fish.

booted & spurred 'And so did I, in vain,

with an apish grin But since it may not be,
(extremely like Let such fish there as find the gain,
but quite absurd And leave the loss for me.

18 Useful Terms Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 19

gloved fist on hip
SILENCE & the scowl of a cannibal)
Marianne Moore, I924 there's your mineral
general animal
My father used to say,
'Superior people never make long visits, (five foot five)
have to be shown Longfellow's grave neither dead
or the glass flowers at Harvard. nor alive
Self-reliant like the cat- 5 (in real the rain)
that takes its prey to privacy,
the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth- Questions
they sometimes enjoy solitude, I. What object is the speaker pointing to? (Consider lines 7, I I , and
and can be robbed of speech 16.)
by speech which has delighted them. 10 2. Why is "real" (line 16) moved out of its expected position?
T h e deepest feeling alwavs shows itself in silence; 3. he-speaker's attitude to the general is unmistakable. T h e tone also
not in silence, but restraint.' implies his attitude to his hearer. Try to determine what this is. Do you
Nor was he insincere in saying, 'Make my house your inn'. think "your" refers to someone in particular, or does it simply distin-
Inns are not residences. guish the speaker from the kind of people who admire generals?

Questions
If we omit the first line of this poem, the next eleven lines become
I. "AND IF I DID WHAT THEN?''
a somewhat prim admonition addressed by the writer directly to the George Gascoigne, c. 1573
reader. That is, the imagined situation changes completely. Does the . ;
tone become less attractive? 'And if I did, what then?
2. What relationship between writer and reader is set up by attrib- Are you aggrieved therefore?
uting these sentiments to "my father"? T h e sea hath fish for every man,
3. Is the tone of the poem delicate? intimate? prissy? formal? forth- Arid what would you have more?'
right? oratorical? tactful?
Thus did my Mistress once
Amaze my mind with doubt;
"NEITHER AWAKE ..
.'I And popped a question for the nonce,
E. E. Cummings, 1950 T o beat my brains about.

neither awake Whereto I thus replied,

(there's your general 'Each fisherman can wish
yas buy gad) That all the seas at every tide
nor asleep Were his alone to fish.

booted & spurred 'And so did I, in vain,

with an apish grin But since it may not be,
(extremely like Let such fish there as find the gain,
but quite absurd And leave the loss for me.

20 Useful Terms
'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 pres-
ence 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 follow-
ing examples is probably to be attributed less to Milton's estimate of his
reader than to his preoccupation with the magnitude of his subject.
SATAN I N HELL
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,
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Sitvation 21
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 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.
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.
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. Do you find Byron's or Milton's tone the more interesting? Why?
2. Would Milton's tone have been altered by the presencc of
22 Useful Terms Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 23
rhymes? By the use of shorter sentences? Do his rhythmic effects help Though lusty Roger there had been,
determine it? How? Is his diction similar to Byron's? Or little George upon the Green,
3. In a good dictionary, look up the derivation of the words "horrid," Or Vincent of the Crown.
"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 But wot you what? the youth was going
passage? T o make an end of all his wooing;
T h e parson for him stayed.
In the next poem one country cousin is entertaining another with an Yet by his leave, for all his haste,
account of a city wedding. W e are not much aware of the personality H e did not so much wish all past,
of the speaker; nevertheless, we are kept aware of a delicacy of tone, Perchance, as did the maid.
which depends in part on the writer's skill at fending off coarseness
T h e maid (and thereby hangs a tale),
while never avoiding occasions on which it would be easy to be coarse.
For such a maid no Whitsun-ale
Could ever yet produce;
N o grape, that's kindly ripe, could be
A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING
Sir John Suckling, I 64 I So round, so plump, so soft as she,
Nor half so full of juice.
I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Her finger was so small the ring
Where I the rarest things have seen, Would not stay on, which they did bring;
Oh, things without compare! It was too wide a peck:
Such sights again cannot be found And to say truth (for out it must),
In any place on English ground, It looked like the great collar, just,
Be it at wake or fair. About our young colt's neck.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, Like little mice stole in and out,
There is a house with stairs; As if they feared the light;
And there I did see coming down But oh, she dances such a way,
Such folk as are not in our town, N o sun upon an Easter day
Forty, at least, in pairs. Is half so fine a sight!

H e would have kissed her once or twice,

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine
But she would not, she was so nice,
(His beard no bigger, though, than thine)
She would not do't in sight;
Walked on before the rest.
And then she looked as who should say,
Our landlord looks like nothing to him;
I will do what I list to-day,
T h e king (God bless him!), 'twould undo him
And you shall do't at night.
Should he go still so dressed.
Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
At course-a-park, without all doubt, N o daisy makes comparison
H e should have been the first taken out ( W h o sees them is undone),
By all the maids i' th' town,
2 5 . w o t : know. 27. stayed: waited. 32. Whitsun-ale: a rustic festival.
19.course-a-park: a round game involving kissing. 34. K i n d l ) : by natural process. 5 0 . nice: punctilious. lease.
5 3 . list:

22 Useful Terms Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 23

rhymes? By the use of shorter sentences? Do his rhythmic effects help Though lusty Roger there had been,
determine it? How? Is his diction similar to Byron's? Or little George upon the Green,
3. In a good dictionary, look u p the derivation of the words "horrid," Or Vincent of the Crown.
"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 But wot you what? the youth was going
passage? T o make an end of all his wooing;
T h e parson for him stayed.
In the next poem one country cousin is entertaining another with an Yet by his leave, for all his haste,
account of a city wedding. W e are not much aware of the personality H e did not so much wish all past,
of the speaker; nevertheless, we are kept aware of a delicacy of tone, Perchance, as did the maid.
which depends in part on the writer's skill at fending off coarseness
T h e maid (and thereby hangs a tale),
while never avoiding occasions on which it would be easy to be coarse.
For such a maid no Whitsun-ale
Could ever yet produce;
N o grape, that's kindly ripe, could be
A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING
Sir John Suckling, I 64 I So round, so plump, so soft as she,
Nor half so full of juice.
I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Her finger was so small the ring
Where I the rarest things have seen, Would not stay on, which they did bring;
Oh, things without compare! It was too wide a peck:
Such sights again cannot be found And to say truth (for out it must),
In any place on English ground, It looked like the great collar, just,
Be it at wake or fair. About our young colt's neck.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay, Like little mice stole in and out,
There is a house with stairs; As if they feared the light;
And there I did see coming down But oh, she dances such a way,
Such folk as are not in our town, N o sun upon an Easter day
Forty, at least, in pairs. Is half so fine a sight!

H e would have kissed her once or twice,

Amongst the rest, one pest'lent fine
But she would not, she was so nice,
(His beard no bigger, though, than thine)
She would not do't in sight;
Walked on before the rest.
And then she looked as who should say,
Our landlord looks like nothing to him;
T h e king (God bless him!), 'twould undo him
I will do what I list to-day,
And you shall do't at night.
Should he go still so dressed.
Her cheeks so rare a white was on,
At course-a-park, without all doubt, N o daisy makes comparison
H e should have been the first taken out (Who sees them is undone),
By all the maids i' th' town,
2 5 . w o t : know. 27. stayed: waited. 32. Whitsun-ale: a rustic festival.
19.course-a-park: a round game involving kissing. 34. K i n d l ) : by natural process. 5 0 . nice: punctilious. 5 3 . lirt:lease.
24 Useful Terms
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Catherine pcar
(The side that's next the sun).
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.
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.
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.
Passion o' me! How I run on!
There's that that would be thought 1
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.
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.
24 Useful Terms
For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Catherine pcar
(The side that's next the sun).
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.
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.
If wishing should be any sin,
T h e parson himself had guilty been
(She looked that day so purely);
And did the ~ o u t h
so oft the feat
At night, as some did in conceit,
It would have spoiled him, surely.
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.
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.
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 25
And this the very reason was
Before the parson could say grace
T h e company was seated.
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?
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!
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.
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."
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.
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 25
And this the very reason was
Before the parson could say grace
T h e company was seated.
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?
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!
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.
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."
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.
26 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
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 27
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.
18. lin: pond.

28 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 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 pofited 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 ~ o t e n t i a l our
l ~ 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 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."
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 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, 25
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. 30
"Centre" (line 30) means the earth, about which the sun was sup-
posed 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 . Why is the Sun called "pedantic" (line 5)? W h y are the appren-
tices "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
Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat,
10
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, 5
T h e post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
15 Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall, I0
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
T h e reward of it all.
20
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 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 sup-
posed 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 appren-
tices "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, KO
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
T h e reward of it all.
30 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! PIED BEAUTY
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, 15 Gerard Manley Hopkins, I 877
And bade me creep past.
No! Let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
Glory be to God for dappled things-
T h e heroes of old,
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Of pain, darkness and cold. Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
Landscape plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough; 5
T h e black minute's at end,
And 611 trhdes, their gear and tackle and trim.
And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend,
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
Then a light, then thy breast,
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
0 thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
H e fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
And with God be the rest!
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 CAPE ANN
is its tone? Cheerful? Resolute? Theatrical? T . S . Eliot, 1935
2. Assuming that it is spoken aloud, can you imagine a situation in
which this speech would be appropriate? Has someone spoken just before 0 quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow,
the poem opens? Or does line 26 mean that he is replying to a voice that Swamp-sparrow, fox-sparrow, vesper-sparrow
has spoken from the beyond? At dawn and dusk. Follow the dance
3. Or is he really addressing himself? Of the goldfinch at noon. Leave to chance
T h e Blackburnian warbler, the shy one. Hail 5
T h e difficulty of resolving these questions suggests that the poet is
With shrill whistle the note of the quail, the bob-white
unclear about the situation in which the poem is supposed to be occur-
Dodging by bay-bush. Follow the feet
ring, the audience to which it is supposed to be addressed. Extreme
Of the walker, the water-thrush. Follow the flight
assertiveness tends to conceal such uncertainties.
Of the dancing arrow, the purple martin. Greet
Tone, when it is at all prominent, always implies an imagined audi- In silence the bullbat. All are delectable. Sweet sweet sweet 10
ence: sometimes an idealized reader, sometimes, as in love poems, an
But resign this land at the end, resign it
imagined hearer who is not the reader; sometimes the reply to an implied
T o its true owner, the tough one, the sea-gull.
question or criticism, the comment on implied behavior.
T h e palaver is finished.
There is something theatrical afoot when we discern a question being
answered which no one would be likely to have asked. Questions
T. S. Eliot has noted that in some of Shakespeare's most celebrated I. Which of these two poems is the simpler to grasp? Why?
oratorical set-pieces, frequently regarded as the dramatist's messages to
2. In Pied Beauty, would the tone of the first line be the same if
posterity, the speaker in the play is actually cheering himself up. When
"wondrous" were substituted for "dappled"? Do the beginning and end
Othello, just before killing himself, says, "Speak of me as I am; nothing
of the line occupy different levels of seriousness? Can you find other
extenuate, nor set down aught in malice," he is actually persuading him-
lines in which the same thing happens?
self that when they speak of him as he is, he will cut a pretty impressive
3. What feelings usually go with the word "fickle" (line 8)? Would
figure. T h e audience he is addressing is chiefly himself.
"variable" be an adequate substitute here? Would you ordinarily expect
 Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 33
32 Useful Terms
to find the word in a poem beginning "Glory be to God"? in a short "THERE DIED A MYRIAD"
poem that mentioned "finches' wings"? Ezra Pound, I 9 I 9
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 There died a myriad,
end of the first sentence? Might the first line be spoken by a child? And of thebest, among them,
might the whole sentence? For an old bitch gone in the teeth,
6. Are the first ten lines a versified manual for bird watchers, or do For a -
botched civilization.
they imply an attitude to the experience represented by the birds? How
do you know? Charm, smiling at the good mouth,
7. What paradox is brought forward in line 10 of Pied Beauty? Does Quick eyes gone under earth's lid,
something similar happen in line 1 2 of Cape Ann? Is the tone of these
lines similar or not? For two gross ofbroken statues,
8. In which poem does the tone of the opening undergo the more
marked transformation?
-
For a few thousand battered books.
/

Questions

Cape Ann is a technical tour de force. "Quick quick quick" and "sweet I . What feelings toward the dead men are implied in this poem? Are

sweet sweet" are different kinds of birdcalls. "The note of the quail" is the feelings toward the dead men in Housman's Epitaph on an Army of
echoed, according to the instructions, by an internal rhyme, and "bob- Mercenaries similar to these, or different?
white" gets another echo two lines later. After line 10 all these musical 2. Compare the value the two poets place on what the dead men

devices lapse. Why? 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
EPITAPH O N AN ARMY OF MERCENARIES inventory ("two gross"; "a few thousand") is decadent?
A. E. Housman, 1922 3. Do lines 7-8 reflect wartime propaganda? or criticize it? Are there
reflections of wartime propaganda in Housman's poem?
These, in the day when heaven was falling, 4. Compare the tone of the two poems. Which do you find the more
T h e hour when earth's foundations fled, interesting?
Followed their mercenary calling
And took their wages and are dead.
GOLFERS
Their shoulders held the sky suspended; Irving Layton, 1955
T h e y stood, and earth's foundations stay;
W h a t God abandoned, these defended, Like Sieur Montaigne's distinction
And saved the sum of things for pay. between virtue and innocence
Questions what gets you is their unbewilderment
I . If you had only the first stanza, what would you say was its tone?
They come into the picture suddenly
Now add line 5; what happens to the tone?
like *finished houses, gapes and planed wood,
2. If only the last line of the poem had been preserved, what might
dominating a landscape
you think the tone of it was? Jesting? Savage? Stoical? Solemn? Sneer-
ing? W h a t difference do the preceding seven lines make to it? And you see at a glance
3. Might this poem have been written by a pious man? Is it indiffer- among sportsmen they are the metaphysicians,
ent to the existence of pious people, or does it imply a criticism of their intent, untalkative, pursuing Unity
feelings?
34 Useful Terms
(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
'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.
'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.
'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.
'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!'
Questions
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
Tone: The Speaker's Sense of His Situation 35
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?
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 emo-
tion is an important function of tone. It is often very difficult to decide,
in particular cases, whether the tone succeeds in doing this.
THE INDIAN SERENADE
Percy Bysshe Shelley, c. 1817
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!
T h e wandering airs they faint
O n the dark, the silent stream-
T h e Champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
T h e nightingale's complaint,
20
It dies upon her heart;-
As I must on thine,
Oh! beloved as thou art!
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.
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" appro-
priate 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 com-
pensate 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

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" appro-
priate 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 com-
pensate 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

38 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 trans-
ferred 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.
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 39
She lived unknown, and few could know
W h e n Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
10
T h e difference to me!
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 (fragil-
ity 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 environ-
ment (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, de-
pendent nature that is implied. Is this the case here? How does the pres-
ence 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
40 Useful Terms The Image: What the Words Actually Name 41
that Lucy in her grave is still surrounded by earth and protected by a 2. It is a very large machine (line 5). Does it seem massive?
stone, and still as inaccessible as a star. T h e comparisons of stanza 2 still 3. What elements in the poem prepare us for line 207
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 POEM O N LAGOONS
Wordsworth written, "The agony for me!" Eli Siegel, 1957
11. Wordsworth wrote in his 1800 Preface that the Poet "considers
man and nature as essentially adapted to each other, and the mind of In time, the lagoon will be seen;
man as naturally the mirror of the fairest and most interesting properties And the historical mosquitoes.
of nature." How many senses of "Nature" are distinguished in your T h e lazy sunsets will be seen as lazy;
dictionary? Is Wordsworth here using one of these, or a blend of several? And the Central American sun
Has the sentence anything to do with the theme of this poem? W h y is As it somehow goes through mists,
one so much less certain that one knows exactly what the prose state- Will be recognized as all it is.
ment means? Even though it probably means less than the poem? Central American dimness
Will be used
THE CRANE For the better cognition
Charles Tomlinson, 1957 Of anything, anything in Europe
Or here.
That insect, without antennae, over its T h e indolent crocodile
Cotton-spool lip, letting Will be employed
An almost invisible tenuity (With the lagoon)
Of steel cable, drop For the sharper seeing
Some seventy feet, with the Of lizards elsewhere.
Grappling hook hidden also T h e iguana, the alligator, the crocodile,
Behind a dense foreground All serviceable,
Among which it is fumbling, and Will make the lagoon-at last-
Over which, mantis-like A seen thing and welcome.
It is begging or threatening, gracile Dear me, the strict necessity of it.
From a clear sky-that pternal
Constructive insect, without antennae, A poem about the way images assist one another to deepen compre-
Would seem to assure us that hension. With lines 12-16, compare the interplay of images (violet,
'The future is safe, because stone, and so on) in S h e Dwelt among the Untrodden W a y s . Out of
It is in my hands.' And we do not what are your conceptions of things you have never seen built up?
Doubt this veracity, we can only
Fear it-as many of us
As pause here to remark NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY
Such silent solicitude Robert Frost, pub. 1923
For lifting intangible weights 20
Into real walls.
Nature's first green is gold,
Questions Her hardest hue to hold.
I . Why is the Crane transformed into an insect, instead of being Her early leaf's a flower;
allowed to remain a piece of machinery? But only so an hour.
42 Useful Terms
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
42 Useful Terms
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
The Image: What the Words Actually Name
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
Carved canals, bowls and l a ~ h r ~ m a t o r iwith
e s pearls: all this the
work
5 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
10 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
I5 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
The Image: What the Words Actually Name
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
5 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
10 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
I5 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
44 Useful Terms
From a hot bed to make, to follow lines to which the night-sky
Holds only faint contingencies. These flights with no end but
failure
And failure not to end them, these or prevent.
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
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
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
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
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
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
55
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?
60 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 applica-
tion 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 audaci-
ties 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
70 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 extinc-
tion of a candle we instantly see the extinction of a life, brought before
75 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,
80 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
85 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
46 Useful Terms
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."
From MACBETH
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
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 47
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
nation as tightly knit and racially conscious as Japan, patriotism repre-
sents the cement w h i c h holds the edifice together": the skilled consumer
of editorials pays no attention to the monstrosity this sentence postu-
lates, 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.
( 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 re-
lated 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 compari-
son-"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-
48 Useful Terms
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 lan-
guage" 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 lit-
erally 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 spe-
cialized words. It is unwise, whenever you encounter an unusual expres-
sion, 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.
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.
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.
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 49
'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas,
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness;
And every oar, a thought in readiness, 5
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.
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 recog-
nized 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.
HER FATHER'S EXHORTATION TO JULIET
William Shakespeare, c. I 595
Enter CAPULET and NURSE.
CAPULET. 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?
50 Useful Terms The Image: What the Words Actually Name 51
LADY CAPULET. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave! From PRELUDES
15
From Romeo and Juliet, 111, v T. S. Eliot, 1910

T h e winter evening settles down

Shakespeare is characterizing a pompous windbag, but aware that his
With smell of steaks in passageways.
audience delights in the extended comparison for its own sake. In his
later plays he seldom permits the audience this gratification. Six o'clock.
Macbeth's phrase about the candle might have been expanded in this T h e burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
way, and adequate reading so expands it.
T h e grimy scraps
T h e test of an image is not its originality but the illumination of
Of withered leaves about your feet
thought and emotion it provides. This illumination depends on its capac-
And newspapers from vacant lots;
ity for penetrating the most intimate details of the situation which
T h e showers beat
evokes it.
O n broken blinds and chimney-pots,
T h e details of an obscure passage will often be found to cohere around
And at the corner of the street
an unstated image.
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
H e has outsoared the shadow of our night;
2. It should perhaps be pointed out that, at the time the poem was written, steak
Envy and calumny and hate and pain, was a staple of lower-class diet.
And that unrest which men miscall delight,
Can touch him not and torture not again; Questions
From the contagion of the world's slow stain I. W h a t is the image in line 4?
H e is secure, and now can never mourn 2. DO you see any point to the collocation of "withered leaves" and
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; "newspapers" in lines 7-8? Does it imply an' attitude to the civilization
Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, that generates the newspapers? Would the value of the word "news-
W i t h sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. papers" in the poem alter if "withered" in the previous line were changed
to "autumn"?
In this stanza from Shelley's Adonais "the shadow of our night" is the 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?
shadow cast aloft by the earth just after sunset; "he," conceived as a
4. Try to describe the effect of the last line.
high-flying bird, has soared to altitudes where the sun is still visible,
5. How should line 3 be read? A sigh? A grunt? A statement? W h y
while Envy, Calumny and the rest circle like buzzards in the thickening
is it so short?
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 "WITHOUT INVENTION"
third image, life as a fire that gradually dies out. T h e "sparkless ashes" William Carlos Williams, 1 9 ~ 6
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 Without invention nothing is well spaced,
final words, of a funeral urn. unless the mind change, unless
This elaborate metamorphosis of image into image is unusual, though the stars are new measured, according
single unstated images are frequent in Shakespeare. Here as in the to their relative positions, the
Ode to the West Wind (page 2 6 2 3 Shelley's propulsive rhythm pre- line will not change, the necessity
vents the inattentive reader from complaining of obscurities. 3. the constellations are gradually drifting out of shape.

50 Useful Terms The Image: What the Words Actually Name 51

LADY CAPULET. Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.
I would the fool were married to her grave! From PRELUDES
15
From Romeo and Juliet, 111, v T. S. Eliot, 1910

T h e winter evening settles down

Shakespeare is characterizing a pompous windbag, but aware that his
With smell of steaks in passageways.
audience delights in the extended comparison for its own sake. In his
later plays he seldom permits the audience this gratification. Six o'clock.
Macbeth's phrase about the candle might have been expanded in this T h e burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
way, and adequate reading so expands it.
T h e grimy scraps
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 capac-
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
ity for penetrating the most intimate details of the situation which
T h e showers beat
evokes it.
O n broken blinds and chimney-pots,
T h e details of an obscure passage will often be found to cohere around
And at the corner of the street
an unstated image.
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.
H e has outsoared the shadow of our night;
2. It should perhaps be pointed out that, at the time the poem was written, steak
Envy and calumny and hate and pain, was a staple of lower-class diet.
And that unrest which men miscall delight,
Can touch him not and torture not again; Questions
From the contagion of the world's slow stain I. W h a t is the image in line 4?
H e is secure, and now can never mourn 2. DO you see any point to the collocation of "withered leaves" and
A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; "newspapers" in lines 7-8? Does it imply an' attitude to the civilization
Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, that generates the newspapers? Would the value of the word "news-
W i t h sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. papers" in the poem alter if "withered" in the previous line were changed
to "autumn"?
In this stanza from Shelley's Adonais "the shadow of our night" is the 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?
shadow cast aloft by the earth just after sunset; "he," conceived as a
4. Try to describe the effect of the last line.
high-flying bird, has soared to altitudes where the sun is still visible,
5. How should line 3 be read? A sigh? A grunt? A statement? W h y
while Envy, Calumny and the rest circle like buzzards in the thickening
is it so short?
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 "WITHOUT INVENTION"
third image, life as a fire that gradually dies out. T h e "sparkless ashes" William Carlos Williams, 1946
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 Without invention nothing is well spaced,
final words, of a funeral urn. unless the mind change, unless
This elaborate metamorphosis of image into image is unusual, though the stars are new measured, according
single unstated images are frequent in Shakespeare. Here as in the to their relative positions, the
Ode to the West Wind (page 2 6 2 3 Shelley's propulsive rhythm pre- line will not change, the necessity
vents the inattentive reader from complaining of obscurities. 3. the constellations are gradually drifting out of shape.
52 Useful Terms
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
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
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.
52 Useful Terms
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
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
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.
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 53
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.
IS. Jengiz: Ghenghis Khan.
Questions
How much annotation does this poem really need?
I.
2. Does the past's substantiality grow greater or less, or remain un-
changed, 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.
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.
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 53
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. '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?
I.
2. Does the past's substantiality grow greater or less, or remain un-
changed, 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.
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.
54 Useful Terms The Image: What the Words Actually Name 55
How the Chimney-sweeper's cry This dance has no name. It is a hungry dance.
Every black'ning Church appalls, W e dance it out to thc tip of Monsieur's sword,
And the hapless Soldier's sigh Rcading the lordly language of the inscription,
Runs in blood down Palace walls. Which is like zithers and tambourines combined:

But most thro' midnight streets I hear T h e Founder of the State. Whoever founded
How the youthful Harlot's curse A state that was free, in the dead of winter, from mice? I0
Blasts the new born Infant's tear, 15 What a beautiful tableau tinted and towering,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse. T h e arm of bronze outstretched against all evil!

Questions
I . What does "charter'd" mean? By whom is the Thames chartered? SPRING
Is the meaning restricted to shippers, water suppliers, and the like? Are William Shakespare, c. I 593
rivers in poems usually thought of in terms of legal documents?
2. In an early draft "dirty" appeared in place of "charter'd." Which When daisies pied and violets blue
word is the more effective in the poem? W h y ? And lady-smocks all silver-white
3. What does "black'ning" mean in line IO? Has it more than one And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
meaning? T h e London chimney sweepers in Blake's time were small Do paint the meadows with delight,
children. Is the Church, as an institution, appalled by this? Or does Blake T h e cuckoo then on every tree,
mean that the Church should be appalled and isn't? Does "appalls" use Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
some of the meanings of "pall"? 'Cuckoo!
4. W h y is the harlot cursing children and weddings? Has the Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fear,
Wack'ning church" anything to do with her situation? Do the implica- Unpleasing to a married ear!
tions of "charter'd" extend to her?
W h y "Marriage hearse"? When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
Blake's words say that the youthful harlot's curse blights the marriage And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks;
hearse with plagues. Can you explain these words so that they will mean W h e n turtles tread and rooks and daws,
exactly what they say, and not simply that she curses weddings? And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
5. Would "note" or "see" be as exact as "mark in line 3? Would T h e cuckoo then on every tree,
"traces" or "signs" be as exact as "marks" in line 4? Has Blake simply Mocks married men; for thus sings he:
had the bad luck to be forced to repeat a word in two different senses, 'Cuckoo!
or does the repeated "mark" somehow help the poem? Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fcar,
6. Are there signs of clumsiness in this poem? of calculated awkward- Unpleasing to a married ear!
ness? Is Blake attempting to give us "London-as-it-strikes-the-innocent- From Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii
observer?" 12,turtles: turtledoves. 12.tread: copulate (used of birds).

DANCE OF THE MACABRE MlCE
Wallace Stevens, 1936
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.
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?

54 Useful Terms The Image: What the Words Actually Name 55

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry This dance has no name. It is a hungry dance. 5
Every black'ning Church appalls, W e dance it out to the tip of Monsieur's sword,
And the hapless Soldier's sigh Rcading the lordly language of the inscription,
Runs in blood down Palace walls. Which is like zithers and tambourines combined:

But most thro' midnight streets I hear T h e Founder of the State. Whoever founded
How the youthful Harlot's curse A state that was free, in the dead of winter, from mice? I0
Blasts the new born Infant's tear, 15 What a beautiful tableau tinted and towering,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse. T h e arm of bronze outstretched against all evil!

Questions
What does "charter'd" mean? By whom is the Thames chartered?
I. SPRING
Is the meaning restricted to shippers, water suppliers, and the like? Are William Shakeyeare, c. 1593
rivers in poems usually thought of in terms of legal documents?
2. In an early draft "dirty" appeared in place of "charter'd." Which When daisies pied and violets blue
word is the more effective in the poem? Why? And lady-smocks all silver-white
3. What does "black'ning" mean in line IO? Has it more than one And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
meaning? T h e London chimney sweepers in Blake's time were small Do paint the meadows with delight,
children. Is the Church, as an institution, appalled by this? O r does Blake T h e cuckoo then on every tree,
mean that the Church should be appalled and isn't? Does "appalls" use Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
some of the meanings of "pall"? 'Cuckoo!
4. Why is the harlot cursing children and weddings? Has the Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fear,
'%Iack'ning church" anything to do with her situation? Do the implica- Unpleasing to a married ear!
tions of "charter'd" extend to her?
W h y "Marriage hearse"? When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
Blake's words say that the youthful harlot's curse blights the marriage And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks;
hearse with plagues. Can you explain these words so that they will mean When turtles tread and rooks and daws,
exactly what they say, and not simply that she curses weddings? And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
5. Would "note" or "see" be as exact as "mark in line 31 Would T h e cuckoo then on every tree,
"traces" or "signs" be as exact as "marks" in line 4? Has Blake simply Mocks married men; for thus sings he: 15
had the bad luck to be forced to repeat a word in two different senses, 'Cuckoo!
or does the repeated "mark" somehow help the poem? Cuckoo, cuckoo!' 0 word of fcar,
6. Are there signs of clumsiness in this ~ o e m of
? calculated awkward- Unpleasing to a married ear!
ness? Is Blake attempting to give us "London-as-it-strikes-the-innocent- From Love's Labour's Lost, V, ii
observer?" 12,turtles: turtledoves. 12.tread: copulate (used of birds).

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.
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?
56 Useful Terms
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. 14. crabs: crab apples.
Questions
In the outdoor poem we heard of "maidens" and "shepherds." In
I.
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"?
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.
56 Useful Terms
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. 14. crabs: crab apples.
Questions
I.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"?
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.
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 57
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.
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 con-
vincingly? 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?
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, 5
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, 10
Didst walk on earth unguess'd at. Better so!
'The Image: What the Words Actually Name 57
W h e n merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch 10
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.
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 con-
vincingly? 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?
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, 5
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, 10
Didst walk on earth unguess'd at. Better so!
58 Useful Terms The Image: What the Words Actually Name 59
All pains the immortal spirit must endure, Eyes in this island see
All weakness that impairs, all griefs that bow, Ships anchor off the bay.
Find their sole speech in that victorious brow. Shall I run to the ships
With the wind in my hair,
Questions Or stay till the day I die
I . Examine the picture suggested by line 5. Would the image be And welcome no sailor?
better if Arnold had written "feet"? How did he come to write "foot- Ships, hold you poison or grapes?
steps"?
2. Does line 6 (which is still about a hill) mean what it says? Does Hands grumble on the door,
line 14? In what sense can a "brow" be victorious? Does a victorious Ships anchor off the bay,
brow speak? Can things "find speechu in it? Rain beats the sand and slates.
3. What does line 9 mean? Shall I let in the stranger,
4. Has Arnold at any point in the poem got his mind on what his Shall I welcome the sailor,
words claim to be talking about? O r stay till the day I die?
5. O n e must distinguish between the official theme of the ~oern-the
grandeur Arnold attributes to Shakespeare-and what the words are Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships,
saying. Hold you poison or grapes?
6. Is Tennyson's or Arnold's the more significant homage?
Questions
I. W h a t is "this island"? (Consider lines 10-12.)
EARS IN THE TURRETS HEAR 2. Is this image being held firmly before the reader's attention
Dylan Thomas, 1936 throughout the poem, or is it merely touched on to help suggest invi-
olable privacy?
Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see A GRAVE
T h e fingers at the locks. Marianne Moore, c. r 9 I 8
Shall I unbolt or stay
Alone till the day I die Man looking into the sea,
Unseen by stranger-eyes taking the view from those who have as much right to it as you
I n this white house? have to it yourself,
Hands, hold you poison or grapes? it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing,
but you cannot stand in the middle of this;
Beyond this island bound the sea has nothing to give but a well excavated grave. 5
By a thin sea of flesh T h e firs stand in a procession, each with an emerald turkey-foot
And a bone coast, at the top,
T h e land lies out of sound reserved as their contours, saying nothing;
And the hills out of mind. repression, however, is not the most obvious characteristic
No bird or flying fish of the sea;
Disturbs this island's rest. the sea is a collector, quick to return a rapacious look.
There are others besides you who have worn that look-
Ears in this island hear whose expression is no longer a protest; the fish no longer
T h e wind pass like a fire, investigate them
60 Useful Terms
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
heretofore-
the 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 sink-
in which if they turn and twist, it is neither with volition nor
consciousness.
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 neces-
sary? Is their order important?
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL AND BODY
Andrew Marvellj1621-1678),pub. 1 6 8 1
Soul
0 who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
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.
Body
0 who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 61
Which, stretcht upright, impales me so,
That mine own Precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless Frame: '5
(A Fever could but do the same.)
15 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.
Soul
What Magic could me thus confine
Within another's Grief to pine?
Where whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain.
20 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
I0 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"?
62 Useful Terms
Does Marvel1 intend the case made out by either speaker to be final
and convincing? W h y or why not?
MR. EDWARDS AND THE SPIDER
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;
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 fly-
It stretches out its feet
And dies. This is the sinner's last retreat;
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 63
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.
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 coal-
If 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.
Jonathan Edwards, 170391758, New England theologian.
THE FUNERAL
10
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;
I5 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, '5
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.
64 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?
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.
64 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.
The Image: What the Words Actually Name 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 atten-
tion 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 im-
plication 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
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?
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 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 atten-
tion 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 im-
plication 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

T h e first two lines sound conventionally romantic; but line 4 strands

nnnnn Rhythm and Sound
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
T h e words of verse move in rhythm, which may be anything from
slow development; this process is analogous to the storm in having oc-
curred before the frail thing is presented.
ti T U M ( ti T U M l ti T U M J ti T U M l
Do the specific notes-two furrows, eagle and mole, Archimedes' name
I NEJ ver SAW1 a P U R J ~ l COW1
e
-confuse or help control the large portentousness of the theme?
Why "toils of measurement" (line g)? T h e aerodynamics of flight? to the most intricate arrangement of stresses:
T h e proportions of beauty? The word is surprising. Is it jarring?
Archimedes was a Greek mathematician; he spoke of moving the When, when, and whenever death closes our eyelids,
earth with his lever, if he had a place to stand. W h y are these "toils of Moving naked over Acheron
measurement" beyond his guess? Is his dream of moving the earth rele- TJpon the one raft, victor and conquered together,
vant to the theme of the poem? What is the force of "raise" (line 13) Marius and Jugurtha together,
-raise as a building? as a monument? Is "measurement" still a relevant one tangle of shadows. . . .
conception by the end of the stanza?
Bird, storm, and measurement give way to shell, storm, and violence. (You will sometimes hear writing like this referred to as "free verse."
Like stanza I , stanza 2 has subtle internal connections, for instance, be- This term survives from forty years ago, when new elaborate rhythms
tween shell and labyrinth (line 24). In repeating its structure, does the were puzzlillg ears long trained to a rocking-horse beat. It is easier now
second stanza repeat the content of the first? Consider the greater body to see that verse is never "free" if it has any life at all.)
and drama of its images; not measurement, but bonds, fleeing, wounds; It is a common mistake to suppose that "normal" verse moves, as
not the planning of beauty, but its gestation. Shells are dragged ashore nearly as the poet can manage, with mechanical regularity:
by waves; but "dragged in line 27 is also an image of human ruthless-
ness, and a birth-image. 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 Useful Terms Rhythm and Sound 69

There is no reason to speak it so, simply because it occurs in a passage TOmany a youth, and many a maid
of verse. Dancing in the chequer'd shade. . . .
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
From I1 PENSEROSO
Probably "the" and "up" are the only really unobtrusive syllables. John Milton, c. 163I

How sweet Or if the air will not permit,

(the) m o o n l i g h t s l e e p s Some still removild place will fit,
(up)6n this bink! Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,
"Bank" gets a decided emphasis (accent); "-light" gets rather a prolonga- Far from all resort of mirth,
tion than an accent; "sleepsJ' may be said to get some of both. T h e usual Save the cricket on the hearth,
systems for classifying English rhythms tend to assume that only accent Or the bellman's drowsy charm,
need be taken into account. For limited purposes of classification it is T o bless the doors from nightly harm. . . .
sometimes useful to say that Shakespeare's verse "normally" has ten syl-
lables per line, the alternate ones stressed, but you would search through O n e simple rhythmic device serves to change the lively movement of
the plays a long time to find a line that really went like that. 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 (I 593-~633)p b . 1633
Before the barn-door crowing,
T h e Cock by Hens attended, Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
His eyes around him throwing, T h e bridal of the earth and sky;
Stands for a while suspended: T h e dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
Then one he singles from the crew, For thou must die.
And cheers the happy Hen,
With how do you do, and how do you do, Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
And how do you do again. Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye;
T h y root is ever in its grave,
What happens to the rhythm at line 5? Why? And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,

From L'ALLEGRO
A box where sweets compacted lie;
John Milton, c. 163I
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Sometimes with secure delight
T h e upland hamlets will invite, Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
When the merry bells ring round, Like season'd timber, never gives;
And the jocund rebecks sound But though the whole world turn to coal,
4. rebeck: fiddle. Then chiefly lives.
70 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?
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
Read this passage aloud until you are sure you can bring out the con-
ltantly changing rhythms. It starts with a marked chant:
70 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?
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
Read this passage aloud until you are sure you can bring out the con-
~tantlychanging rhythms. It starts with a marked chant:
Rhythm and Sound 71
H E R E is no1 WAter but1 ONly 1 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
Amongst the rock one has no time for thought
or if line II read
Here one can neither sit nor lie nor stand
5 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 emo-
10
tion 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 unmis-
takable the varying degrees of stress which the words require to make
the sense perfectly plain. When the guards make for the ghost of Ham-
let'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
Rhythm and Sound 71
H E R E is no1 WAter but1 ONly 1 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
Amongst the rock one has no time for thought
or if line II read
Here one can neither sit nor lie nor stand
5 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 emo-
10
tion 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 unmis-
I5 takable 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 Ham-
let's father with pikes, Marcellus might say,
"Wait a minute, we shouldn't treat it like that. We're making a
20
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,
25
W e do it wrong, being so majestical,
T o offer it the show of violence;
For it is, as the air, invulnerable,
30 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 Useful Terms
a good deal of ceremonious respect that has leaked out of our prose para-
phrase. 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 diagram-
matic 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 communi-
cated as rapidly as only verse can manage. T h e elements of the "moon-
light" 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.
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 I0
Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
Rhythm and Sound 73
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 rest-
I 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 ...
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.
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
I. What effect is produced by rhythmical means in line 37 in line 137
2. 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?
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 . n n m Meter
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 R h y t h m is inescapable. T K ~ mgst I-- I " f f --
casual everyday speech /falls into
Of trees was seen by her / - I - - /
Of Attica.-The sound phjas& / wyth ascertainable rhyth&s.
Of wind on dry, cool ground Meter (from the Greek word for measure) denotes the interligent con-
Once more is heard by girl, trol 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
Vl'ith heart in autumn whirl.
T h e trees stand up in grey; is aware of various rhythmic devices he can use / to group / or enforce /
It is their ancient way- his meanings. / H e will not use them conspicuously, / because part of
All this in Idaho, the decorum of modern prose / is its pretense of being.- casual speech /
I I I l
Where grieving girls now go with the false starts left out. / Prose approaches verse as the rhythms
I n mingled love and fear. inherent in all manifestations of language are put to more and more
T h e dark that was is here. deliberate use. When we are in the presence of verse it is no longer suf-
ficient to say that intelligent use is being made of rhythmic patterns that
There is extraordinary rhythmic variety in these very short lines;
crop up here and there. Verse is built out of rhythmic units. It is not
compare line 5 with line 10.
One function of the rhymes is to emphasize the shortness of the lines. necessarily true to say that the rhythms of verse are more regular (i.e.,
Like the girls, the words move between very narrow limits. more repetitious) than those of prose. They may not even draw atten-
tion to their presence, though they generally do. T h e essential truth is
In the first line ("A girl, in ancient Greece") we encounter alliteration
that the? function continually, not spasmodically.
(neighboring syllables beginning with the same sound). Can you find
other examples? 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
Elsewhere we find numerous examples of assonance (similarity of
sound, falling short of absolute rhyme): for instance, "trees" and "seen" 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
in line 16. This extends to such slight details as the chime of adjacent
to sharpen your perception. When you know of the metrical phenome-
vowels (e.g., "Nika's mind," line 7).
T o what extent do you think this dense patterning of sound deter- non called a "spondee" you are more likely to be aware of its presence
and function in the poem you are reading.
mines the feeling of the poem?
75
76 Useful Terms
Many lines of verse reveal themselves to have been built mainly out
of two-syllable units:
That time / of year / thou mayst / in me / behold
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 un-
accented 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 ex-
ample 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.
A mighty maze, but not without a plan
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:
A MIGHT (y 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 1
a mighty maze,
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.
Meter 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.)
Ever through the burning distance
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 con-
cerned, replaced an accented syllable by an unobtrusive one:
1 I
EV er in the B U R N ing 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:
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 in-
stance, has a secondary accent on the first syllable, partly deriving from
our awareness of the normal accenting of "under."
Christopher Robin goes hoppity hoppity
is a dactylic line, a type rare except for comic effects. For other pur-
poses 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 Useful Terms
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 Oh, if it have, let my word work on me,
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.
Listen to the way the verse moves.
"Rhythm is form cut into time."
-EZRA POUND
THE EXPIRATION
John Donne, c. 1600
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,
Which sucks two souls. and vapors both away,
78 Useful Terms
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
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss,
Which sucks two souls. and vapors both away,
Meter 79
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;
5
Go; and if that word have not quite kill'd thee,
Ease me with death, by bidding me go too.
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 dic-
tionary.)
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.
5. learneth: teacheth.
6 . lustes: a possessive but pronounced as two syllables, as we have indicated by dot-
ting the e. "Lust" until the seventeenth century meant simply "desire," without
the modem connotation of ignobility.
Meter 79
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;
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 dic-
tionary.)
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-
ting the e. "Lust" until the seventeenth century meant simply "desire," without
the modem connotation of ignobility.
80 Useful Terms
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 (pentam-
eter, 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 delib-
erate 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?
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 10
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. plains: complains.
Questions
This poem and the preceding one are both translations of the same
Italian sonnet, Petrarch's 109th
Meter 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 ver-
sions. 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
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.
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 apprehen-
sive pathos-is battered out of any chance of existence by the insistent
metrical tack-hammer.
82 Useful Terms Meter 83

T h e short lines, insistent rhythm, and abrupt monosyllabic rhymes I was singing all the time
make one very much aware of where lines begin and end. Consider Just as prettily as he,
line 6 : About the dew upon the lawn
And the wind upon the lea;
T h a t stands beside the house appears .... So I didn't listen to him
As he sang upon a tree.
Is there any pretense of naturalness in the phrasing that sets this frag-
ment 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? FRAGMENT OF AN AGON
What does the rhythm do to disrupt the flow of lines 9-1 I? T. S. Eliot, 1927
Does the internal rhyme in line 8 serve any purpose? Does it look as
if it had gotten there by accident? SWEENEY WAUCHOPE HORSFALL KLIPSTEIN KRUMPACgER
Detach line 9 from the rest of the poem, and read it aloud. How does SWARTS SNOW DORIS DUSTY
the prevailing rhythm force you to pace it? Is this the speech rhythm SWEENEY: I'll carry you off
that would be called for if the words were spoken naturally for their T o a cannibal isle.
sense? DORIS: You'll be the cannibal!
Try to read stanza 2 "with expression." Does the meter help or hinder SWEENEY: You'll be the missionary!

you? You'll be my little seven stone missionary!

I'll gobble you up. I'll be the cannibal.
T o dismiss these as "technical flaws" is to say that the author didn't DORIS: You'll carry me off: T o a cannibal isle?
consider his poem worth writing. SWEENEY:1'11 be the cannibal.
Insensibility reveals itself more surely in rhythmic forcing (or else in DORIS : 1'11 be the missionary.
the absence of any rhythmic assurance at all) than in any other way. I'll convert you!
You can tell a live poem from a dead one just as you can tell a heart SWEENEY: I'll convert you!
beating from a watch ticking. Into a stew.
A nice little, white little, missionary stew.
DORIS: YOUwouldn't eat me!
'THE RIVALS SWEENEY: Yes I'd eat you!
James Stephens (1882-1950) In a nice little, white little, soft little, tender little,
Juicy little, right little, missionary stew.
I heard a bird at d a u n You see this egg
Singing sweetly on a tree, You see this egg
T h a t the dew was on the lawn Well that's life on a crocodile isle.
And the wind was on the lea; There's no telephones
But I didn't listen to him, There's no gramophones
For he didn't sing to me. There's no motor cars
N o two-seaters, no six-seaters,
I didn't listen to him, N o Citroen, no Rolls-Royce.
For he didn't sing to me Nothing to eat but the fruit as it grows.
T h a t the dew was on the lawn Nothing to see but the palmtrees one way
And the wind was on the lea; And the sea the other way,
I was singing at the time Nothing to hear but the sound of the surf.
Just as prettily as he. Nothing at all but three things
84 Useful Terms Meter 85
DORIS : W h a t things? T e l l m e i n what part of the wood
SWEENEY: Birth, and copulation, and death. DO you want to flirt w i t h me?
That's all, that's all, that's all, that's all, U n d e r the breadfruit, banyan, palmleaf
Birth, and copulation, and death. O r under the bamboo tree?
DORIS: I'd be bored. A n y old tree will do for m e
SWEENEY: You'd be bored. A n y old wood is just as good
Birth, and copulation, and death. A n y old isle is just m y style
DORIS: I'd be bored. A n y fresh egg
SWEENEY: You'd be bored. A n y fresh egg
Birth, and copulation, and death. A n d the sound of the coral sea.
That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks:
Birth, and copulation, and death. DORIS: I dont like eggs; I never liked eggs;
I've been born and once is enough. And I dont like life on your crocodile isle.
You don't remember, but I remember,
Once is enough.
SONG BY KLIPSTEIN AND KRUMPACKER
SNOW AND SWARTS AS BEFORE
SONG BY WAUCHOPE AND HORSFALL
SWARTS AS TAMBO. SNOW AS BONES M y little island girl
h/Iy little island girl
U n d e r the bamboo I'm going to stay w i t h you
Bamboo bamboo A n d w e wont worry what to do
U n d e r the bamboo tree W e wont have to catch any trains
T w o live as one A n d w e wont go home w h e n it rains
O n e live as two W e ' l l gather hibiscus flowers
T w o live as three For it wont b e minutes but hours
U n d e r the bum For it wont be hours but years

I
Under the boo A n d the morning
Under the bamboo tree. A n d the evening
A n d noontime
W h e r e the breadfruit fall And night
diminuendo Morning
A n d the penguin call
A n d the sound is the sound of the sea Evening
U n d e r the b u m Noontime
U n d e r the boo Night
U n d e r the bamboo tree.
DORIS: That's not life, that's no life
W h e r e the Gauguin maids W h y I'd just as soon be dead.
I n the banyan shades SWEENEY: That's what life is. Just is
W e a r palmleaf drapery DORIS: What is?
U n d e r the b u m What's that life is?
U n d e r the boo SWEENEY: Life is death.
U n d e r the bamboo wee. I knew a man once did a girl in-

84 Useful Terms Meter 85

DORIS : W h a t things? T e l l m e i n what part of the wood
SWEENEY: Birth, and copulation, and death. D o you want to flirt w i t h me?
That's all, that's all, that's all, that's all, U n d e r the breadfruit, banyan, palmleaf
Birth, and copulation, and death. O r under the bamboo tree? 70
DORIS: I'd be bored. A n y old tree will do for m e
SWEENEY: You'd be bored. A n y old wood is just as good
Birth, and copulation, and death. A n y old isle is just m y style
DORIS: I'd be bored. A n y fresh egg
SWEENEY: You'd be bored. A n y fresh egg
Birth, and copulation, and death. A n d the sound of the coral sea.
That's all the facts when you come to brass tacks:
Birth, and copulation, and death. DORIS: I dont like eggs; I never liked eggs;
I've been born and once is enough. And I dont like life on your crocodile isle.
You don't remember, but I remember,
Once is enough.
SONG BY KLIPSTEIN AND KRUMPACKER
SNOW AND SWARTS AS BEFORE
SONG BY WAUCHOPE AND HORSFALL
SWARTS AS TAMBO. SNOW AS BONES M y little island girl
M y little island girl
U n d e r the bamboo I'm going to stay w i t h you
Bamboo bamboo A n d w e wont worry what to do
U n d e r the bamboo tree W e wont have to catch any trains
T w o live as one A n d w e wont go home w h e n it rains
O n e live as two W e ' l l gather hibiscus flowers
T w o live as three For it wont be minutes but hours
U n d e r the bum For it wont be hours but years

I
U n d e r the boo A n d the morning
U n d e r the bamboo tree. A n d the evening
A n d noontime
W h e r e the breadfruit fall
A n d the penguin call
diminuendo
I And night
Morning

I
A n d the sound is the sound of the sea Evening
U n d e r the bum Noontime
U n d e r the boo Night
U n d e r the bamboo tree.
DORIS: That's not life, that's no life
W h e r e the Gauguin maids W h y I'd just as soon be dead.
I n the banyan shades SWEENEY: That's what life is. Just is
W e a r palmleaf drapery DORIS: What is?
U n d e r the b u m What's that life is?
U n d e r the boo SWEENEY: Life is death.
U n d e r the bamboo tree. I knew a man once did a girl in-
86 Useful Terms
DORIS: 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.
SNOW: Excuse me, they dont all get pinched in the end
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.
DORIS: A woman runs a terrible risk.
SNOW: Let Mr Sweeney continue his story.
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
86 Useful Terms
DORIS: 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.
SNOW: Excuse me, they dont all get pinched in the end
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.
DORIS: A woman runs a terrible risk.
SNOW: Let Mr Sweeney continue his story.
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
Meter 87
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.
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 87
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
1x5
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
t That's nothing to me and nothing to you
I20
1
W e all gotta do what we gotta do
1 We're gona sit here and drink this booze
1
We're gona sit here and have a tune
We're gona stay and we're gona go
125 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.
88 Useful Terms Meter 89

And perhaps you're alive Sweeney's disquieting statements into a familiar orbit? Does T i n Pan
And perhaps ~ o u ' r edead Alley provide ways of simplifying one's problems? of reducing one's de-
Hoo ha ha gree of consciousness?
Hoo ha ha When Sweeney tells about the murderer's compulsion, Swarts and
Hoo Snow quickly transpose the theme into the comfortable verities of the
Hoo police court news. When Sweeney describes the nightmare in the flat,
Hoo the Chorus produces a song about a bad dream. Are they reinforcing his
KNOCKKNOCK KNOCK remarks, or anesthetizing themselves?
KNOCKKNOCK KNOCK Their talk stays on the plane of popular folklore. Does his? Does he
KNOCK succeed in making his vision of life plain to them? to himself? What
KNOCK experience may have so transfigured the world for Sweeney?
KNOCK Line 43 appears to echo the scriptural injunction, "Ye must be born
again." If Sweeney hasn't undergone a second birth, what has he under-
Nine knocks for nine people, without missing a beat. In the Frag- gone? What does he understand that the other characters don't?
m 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
JOURNEY OF THE MAGI
stage:
T. S. Eliot, 1927
DUSTY: Sam's all right
DORIS : But Pereira won't do. 'A cold coming we had of it,
W e can't have Pereira. Just the worst time of the year
DUSTY : Well what you going to do? For a journey, and such a long journey:
TELEPHONE : Ting a ling ling T h e ways deep and the weather sharp,
Ting a ling ling T h e very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
DUSTY: That's Pereira I Lying down in the melting snow.
DORIS : Yes that's Pereira
DUSTY: Well what you going to do? There were times we regretted
TELEPHONE: T i n g a ling ling
T h e summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
Ting a ling ling . . .. And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
T h e n the camel men cursing and grumbling
Mr. Eliot remarks somewhere that the internal combustion engine And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
(when Fragment of a n Agon was written, primarily the four-cylinder And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
Ford) has radically altered our conception of rhythm. And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
T h e author's recording of this poem (Harvard Vocarium P-1206-7) And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
deserves hearing. A hard time we had of it.
How does the insistent four-beat rhythm determine our apprehension At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
of the characters? Are they sharply distinguished from one another? Do
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
they fully grasp the import of one another's remarks? Do the rhythms
That this was all folly.
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
T h e n at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
the singers of the song about the bamboo tree? Has he the more vivid
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
vision, or have they? W h o has the more profound moral apprehen-
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
sion? Do they sing in order to entertain the company? Or to drag
90 Useful Terms
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.
Meter 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 con-
version? If so, is its meaning restricted to that? Does it undermine the
notion that we have a right to be comfortable?

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS
This set down Quhen he was sek.
This: were we led all that way for W i l l i a m Dunbar, c. I 508
35
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
W e had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, I that in heill wes and gladnes,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was Am trublit now with gret seiknes,
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. And feblit with infermite;
W e returned to our places, these Kingdoms, 40 T i m o r mortis conturbat me.
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods. Our pleasance heir is all vane glory,
I should be glad of another death. This fals world is bot transitory,
T h e flesche is brukle, the Fend is sle;
This poem was written in the same year as Fragment of a n Agon, and T i m o r mortis conturbat me.
has a similar theme: Sweeney and the Magi have both undergone an
experience (having to do with birth and death) which cuts them off T h e stait of man dois change and vary,
from their normal companions.
Now sound, now seik, now blith, now sary,
"Lying down in the melting snow" (line 7) and "A woman runs a Now dansand mery, now like to dee;
terrible risk" (Fragment of an Agon, line 109) are both irregular four-
T i m o r mortis conturbat me.
beat lines. What makes the one so nerveless and the other so propulsive?
Inherent metrical qualities, or contagion from the surrounding lines,
or both? N o stait in erd heir standis sickir;
Is the caesura (pause in mid-line) noticeable in lines I-5? Is this true As with the wynd wavis the wickir,
throughout the poem? Are you meant to pause where the lines end, or Wavis this warldis vanite;
read on as though you were reading prose? What does the slackness of T i m o r mortis conturbat me.
rhythmic pattern convey about the state of the speaker?
What expectations does the title arouse? How soon does Eliot begin O n to the dead gois all estatis,
to undermine the Christmas-card image? Princis, prelotis, and potestatis,
I n the second part of the poem (lines 2 1-3 I ) we encounter a paradise Baith riche and pur of a1 degre;
for horses. Do the three trees, the vine, the pieces of silver, the wine- Timor mortis conturbat me.
skins arouse stirrings of familiarity in your mind? Are they part of the
1- heill: health. 4. The fear of death troubles me.
Christian heritage of symbols? Had they any special meaning at the 7. brukle: brittle. sle: sly. I o. sary: sorry.
time the Magi encountered them? Would this have been a good place 13. stait: rank. erd: earth. sickir: secure. 14. wickir: twig.
to stay if it hadn't been for the Birth? 18. prelotis: prelates. potestatis: potentates
92 Useful Terms
H e takis the knychtis in to feild,
Anarmit under helme and scheild;
Victour he is at all mellie;
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.
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.
He sparis no lord for his piscence,
N a clerk for his intelligence;
His awful1 strak may no man fle;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
Art-magicianis, and astrologgis,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle;
Timor mortis wnturbat me.
In medicyne the most practicianis,
Lechis, surrigianis, and phisicianis,
Thame self fra ded may not supple;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
I se that makaris amang the laif
Playis heir ther pageant, syne gois to graif;
Sparit is nocht ther faculte;
Timor mortis conturbat me.
H e hes done petuously devour
T h e noble Chaucer, of makaris flour,
22. a n a m i t : armed. 23. "ellie: melee. 26. sowkand: sucking.
29. stour: battle. 33.piscence: puissance.
37. art-mgicianis: practitioners of magic arts. 38. rethoris: rhetoricians.
39. conclusionis sle: skillful reasonings. 42. lechis: leeches.
43. supple: defend. 45.makaris: poets. laif: live.
50. All the following proper names are those of poets. They need not be looked up.
I Meter 93
T h e Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thre;
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 scorpion fell hes done infek
Maister Johne Clerk, and James Afflek,
Fra balat making and tragidie;
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.
Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane,
That maid the Anteris of Gawane;
Schir Gilbert Hay endit hes he;
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 conturbat me.
H e hes reft Merseir his endite,
That did in luf so lifly write,
45 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.
46. syne: then. 73. reft: deprived of. endite: power of writing. 75. sentence hie: lofty meaning.
8I . done roune: whispered.
94 Useful Terms
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:
T i m o r mortis conturbat me.
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.
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!
Meter 95
"In a Sieve we'll go to sea!" I 0
Far and few, far and few
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
85 Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.
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,
T o a small t o b a c ~ o - ~mast;
i~e
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.
93. sen: since. 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,
5 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.
96 Useful Terms
"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.
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.
'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.
96 Useful Terms
"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.
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.
'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.
Meter 97
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.' 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.'
'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?
Meter 97
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.' 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.'
'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 hill-
T o hear the dewy echoes calling
From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine-
T o watch the emerald-colour'd water falling
Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
nnnnn Song and Sonority Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
Only to hear were sweet, stretch'd out beneath the pine.

In this remarkable piece of incantation one can see the sound deform-
ing 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
Can one see anything clearly in the passage? Is one left with a vivid
means of definition the poet has at his disposal, they are too often used
impression of anything? Is reading the passage a pleasant experience?
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 A BALLAD OF BURDENS
seventeenth-century dramatists discovered ways of counterfeiting verse Algernon Charles Swinburne, 1871
aimed at the ear alone, and their example was imitated.
Some kinds of poetry are like chocolates, in individual instances pleas- T h e burden of fair women. Vain delight
ant and harmless, but as a staple diet destructive to the senses, the di- And love self-slain in some sweet shameful way,
gestion, and the appetite. And sorrowful old age that comes by night
As a thief comes that has no heart by day,
T o approach this point from another direction: good writing aims at And change that finds fair cheeks and leaves them grey, 5
setting something before the reader's mind by means of language. If the And weariness that keeps awake for hire,
reader is moved or enlightened, it will be the thing presented that moves And grief that says what pleasure used to say;
or enlightens him, not the mechanics of presentation. Less good writing This is the end of every man's desire.
sets out directly to impress the reader, and ultimately impresses only the
reader who doesn't really believe that words have meanings and that T h e burden of bought kisses. This is sore,
structures of words preserve meanings. Such readers got that way by a A burden without fruit in childbcaring;
long period of never paying strict attcntion to the meaning of anything; Between the nightfall and the dawn threescore,
and when they like a piece of verse, they are probably responding more Thrcescore betwcen the dawn and evening.
to the sound than to anything else. T h e shuddering in thy lips, the shuddering
98
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 101
A summer of green sorrows gathering,
15 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
20
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;
25 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,
30 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
Princes, and ye whom pleasure quickeneth,
Heed well this rhyme before your pleasure tire;
For life is sweet, but after life is death. 75
40 This is the end of every man's desire.
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?
45 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
50 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. 75
This is the end of every man's desire.
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 UsefulTerrns Song and Sonority 103

passage as "a mutual comparison between the water-clock and the tear- skill to smooth the composer's way. Often he doubled as composer. In
bottle." Though it is possible, as this shows, to devise an explanation for the Book of Airs from which Follow Your Saint is taken, Campion wrote
anything, the explanation that "fits" but is unconvincing, and probably all the words and half the musical settings.
has to be looked up again when you want it some weeks later, doesn't Shakespeare probably learned much of his craft from Italian song-
save the poem. books in which the music was printed with the words. Especially during
Do certain lines or sections of A Ballad of Burdens tend to stick in the the years 1590-1610, a very large number of similar books was pub-
memory? Why? Has their appeal anything to do with anything they lished in England; the words are by various authors, known and
make one see? unknown.
Swinburne is worth knowing as an extreme case of the hypnotic appeal Swinburne wrote long after music of consequence had ceased to be
of rhythm and alliteration alonc. H e frequently blends the feelings of composed in England. T h e sounds made by the verse are intended to be
words with great skill into a semblance of meaning, and patient digging a substitute for music.
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
in Calydon. TO THE ROSE
T h e attention paid by poets to the techniques of incantation during Song
the century between Coleridge's Kubla Khan ( I 816) and Eliot's Prufrock Robert Herrick, pub. 1648
(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 Go, happy rose, and interwove
T h e Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock in T. S. Eliot's Collected Poenzs With other flowers, bind my love.
you will find that it criticizes this tradition by putting the dream world Tell her, too, she must not be
to ironic uses, presenting it as a prison ratl~crthan a refuge. Longer flowing, longer free,
T h a t so oft has fettered me.

FOLLOW YOUR SAINT Say, if she's fretful, I have bands

Thomas Campion, pub. 1601 Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands;
Tell her, if she struggle still,
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet; I have myrtle rods, at will,
Haste you, sad notes, fall at hcr fl!.ing feet. For to tame, though not to kill.
There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrnlv, pitr move,
And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: Take thou my blessing thus, and go,
But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, 5 And tell her this-but do not so,
Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again. Lest a handsome anger fly
Like a lightning from her eye,
All that I sung still to her praise did tend, And burn thee up, as well as I.
Still she was first, still she my songs did end;
Yet she my love and music both doth fly, Questions
T h e music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy. 10 I . T o aid the musician and singer, the words are grouped around
Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight: pauses (caesurae) in the middle of each line. Would the same setting do
It shall suffice that they were breath'd and died for her delight. for all three stanzas?
2. Would you be able to follow the sense of the words, if they were
Before about 1725, one can be fairly sure that something labelec! sung to you?
'Song" is meant to be sung, and that the poet has employed considerable 3. How exact is the sense? Has "flowing" (line 4) a precise meaning?

102 UsefulTerrns Song and Sonority 103

passage as "a mutual comparison between the water-clock and the tear- skill to smooth the composer's way. Often he doubled as composer. In
bottle." Though it is possible, as this shows, to devise an explanation for the Book of Airs from which Follow Your Saint is taken, Campion wrote
anything, the explanation that "fits" but is unconvincing, and probably all the words and half the musical settings.
has to be looked up again when you want it some weeks later, doesn't Shakespeare probably learned much of his craft from Italian song-
save the poem. books in which the music was printed with the words. Especially during
Do certain lines or sections of A Ballad of Burdens tend to stick in the the years 1590-1610, a very large number of similar books was pub-
memory? Why? Has their appeal anything to do with anything they lished in England; the words are by various authors, known and
make one see? unknown.
Swinburne is worth knowing as an extreme case of the hypnotic appeal Swinburne wrote long after music of consequence had ceased to be
of rhythm and alliteration alonc. Me frequently blends the feelings of composed in England. T h e sounds made by the verse are intended to be
words with great skill into a semblance of meaning, and patient digging a substitute for music.
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
in Calydon. TO THE ROSE
T h e attention paid by poets to the techniques of incantation during Song
the century between Coleridge's Kz~blaKhnlz ( I 816) and Eliot's Prufrock Robert Herrick, pub. 1648
(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 Go, happy rose, and interwove
T h e Love Song of 1. Alfred Prufrock in T. S. Eliot's Collected Poems With other flowers, bind my love.
you will find that it criticizes this tradition by putting the dream world Tell her, too, she must not be
to ironic uses, presenting it as a prison ratllcr than a refuge. Longer flowing, longer free,
That so oft has fettered me.

FOLLOW YOUR SAINT Say, if she's fretful, I have bands

Thomas Campion, pub. 1601 Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands;
Tell her, if she struggle still,
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet; I have myrtle rods, at will,
Haste you, sad notes, fall at hcr fl!.iilg feet. For to tame, though not to kill.
There, wrapp'd in cloud of sorrow pitr move,
And tell the ravisher of my soul I l)nrish for her love: Take thou my blessing thus, and go,
But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, 5 And tell her this-but do not so,
Then burst with sighing in her sight and ne'er return again. Lest a handsome anger fly
Like a lightning from her eye,
All that I sung still to her praise did tend, And burn thee up, as well as I. '5
Still she was first, still she my songs did end;
Yet she my love and music both doth fly, Questions
T h e music that her echo is and beauty's sympathy. 10 I. T o aid the musician and singer, the words are grouped around
Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight: pauses (caesurae) in the middle of each line. Would the same setting do
I t shall sufficethat they were breath'd and died for her delight. for all three stanzas?
2. Would you be able to follow the sense of the words, if they were

Before about 1725, one can be fairly sure that something labeled sung to you?
'Song" is meant to be sung, and that the poet has employed considerable 3. How exact is the sense? Has "flowing" (line 4) a precise meaning?
104 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 105

W h a t are the "rods" (line g)? Is the tone of the last stanza comic? play- Silent music, either other
ful? serious? Would it be easy for the singer to convey it? Sweetly gracing.

Lovely forms do flow

SONG From concent divinely framed;
Edmund Waller, pub. I 64s Heaven is music, and thy beauty's
Birth is heav'nly.
Go, lovely Rose,
Tell her that wastes her time and me, These dull notes we sing
T h a t now she knows, Discords need for helps to grace them;
W h e n I resemble her to thee, Only beauty purely loving
How sweet and fair she seems to be. 5 Knows no discord;

Tell her that's young,

But still moves delight,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
Like clear springs renew'd by flowing,
T h a t hadst thou sprung
Ever perfect, ever in them-
In deserts where no men abide,
selves eternal.
T h o u must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth It wasn't until the eighteenth century that a poem became something
Of beauty from the light retir'd: to look at in a book. T h e art which began - with Homer began - with a
Bid her come forth, reciter's speaking voice. There are poems intended to be sung that are
Suffer herself to be desir'd, almost as old as Homer. Although Dante's and Chaucer's narrative
And not blush so to be admir'd. poems and a great many Renaissance lyrics and sonnets were intended
for circulation in manuscript, the continuous tradition that relates verse
T h e n die, that she to the speaking or singing voice is unbroken from 800 years before
T h e common fate of all things rare Christ until 1800 years after. Print, for such verse, is purely a means of
May read in thee, preservation, like the printed score of a Mozart opera.
How small a part of time they share, Many of the most familiar attributes of lyric verse arose from its long
T h a t are so wondrous sweet and fair. history of conjunction with music. Regular and sometimes intricate
stanza forms, for instance, repeated several times, were originally a
Questions means of fitting a long poem to a short tune.
I . Is Waller's poem close enough to the speaking voice to be read
Songs written for concert performance show off the musician's skill
aloud, without music? is Herrick's? and the singer's voice. T h e words to the pieces in the average concert
2. Is the rose image still present in stanza 3?
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 ~ n d a n from
d the fifteenth to the seventeenth ccnturies, before music
was delivered at public concerts. You will find words and music to some
"ROSE-CHEEK'D LAURA, COME" eighty songs from the most prolific quarter-century of this period in
Thomas Campion, I602 An Elizabethan Song Book (cd. Noah Grcenbcrg, W. H . Auden and
Chester Kallman, 1956). And a half-hour spent listening to the Deller
Rose-cheek'd Laura, come; Consort recording of Tavern Songs (Vanguard BG-561) or some of the
Sinq thou smoothly with thy beauty's other Deller recordings ( T h e T h r e e Ravens; T h e Cries of London; T h e

104 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 105

W h a t are the "rods" (line g)? Is the tone of the last stanza comic? play- Silent music, either other
ful? serious? Would it be easy for the singer to convey it? Sweetly gracing.

Lovely forms do flow

SONG From concent divinely framed;
Edmund Waller, pub. 1645 Heaven is music, and thy beauty's
Birth is heav'nly.
Go, lovely Rose,
Tell her that wastes her time and me, These dull notes we sing
T h a t now she knows, Discords need for helps to grace them;
W h e n I resemble her to thee, Only beauty purely loving
How sweet and fair she seems to be. 5 Knows no discord;

Tell her that's young,

But still moves delight,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
Like clear springs renew'd by flowing,
T h a t hadst thou sprung
Ever perfect, ever in them-
I n deserts where no men abide,
selves eternal.
T h o u must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth It wasn't until the eighteenth century that a poem became something
Of beauty from the light retir'd: to look at in a book. T h e art which began with Homer began with a
Bid her come forth, reciter's speaking voice. There are poems intended to be sung that are
Suffer herself to be desir'd, almost as old as Homer. Although Dante's and Chaucer's narrative
And not blush so to be admir'd. poems and a great many Renaissance lyrics and sonnets were intended
for circulation in manuscript, the continuous tradition that relates verse
T h e n die, that she to the speaking or singing voice is unbroken from 800 years before
T h e common fate of all things rare Christ until 1800 years after. Print, for such verse, is purely a means of
M a y read in thee, preservation, like the printed score of a Mozart opera.
How small a part of time they share, Many of the most familiar attributes of lyric verse arose from its long
T h a t are so wondrous sweet and fair. history of conjunction with music. Regular and sometimes intricate
stanza forms, for instance, repeated several times, were originally a
Questions means of fitting a long poem to a short tune.
I . Is Waller's poem close enough to the speaking voice to be read
Songs written for concert performance show off the musician's skill
aloud, without music? is Herrick's? and the singer's voice. T h e words to the pieces in the average concert
2. Is the rose image still present in stanza 3?
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
"ROSE-CHEEK'D LAURA, COME" eighty songs from the most prolific quarter-century of this period in
Thomas Campion, r 602 An Elizabethan Song Book (cd. Noah Grcenbcrg, W. H . Auden and
Chester Kallman, 1956). And a half-hour spent listening to the Deller
Rose-cheek'd Laura, come; Consort recording of Tavern Songs (Vanguard BG-561) or some of the
Sinq thou smoothly with thy beauty's other Deller recordings ( T h e Three Ravens; T h e Cries of London; T h e
106 Useful Terms
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. Eng-
lish 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 intel-
ligible only to the singers: from which one gathers that a highly sophisti-
cated 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 anony-
mous song writers of Shakespeare's generation to a high standard of per-
formance. T h e essentially solitary poets of the eighteenth, nineteenth,
and twentieth centuries, writing for a book-reading audience, have occa-
sionally 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 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 5 For in your eyes they sit, and there,
T h a n Alirth 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, 10
And all things with so sweet a sadnesse move,
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.
0 fayrer than aught ells
T h e world can show, leave off in time to grieve,
Inough, inough, your joyful1 lookes excells; 15
Teares kills the heart, believe,
0 strive not to be excellent in woe,
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.
106 Useful Terms
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. Eng-
lish 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 intel-
ligible only to the singers: from which one gathers that a highly sophisti-
cated 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 anony-
mous song writers of Shakespeare's generation to a high standard of per-
formance. T h e essentially solitary poets of the eighteenth, nineteenth,
and twentieth centuries, writing for a book-reading audience, have occa-
sionally 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 5 For in your eyes they sit, and there,
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, 10
And all things with so sweet a sadnesse move,
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.
0 fayrer than aught ells
T h e world can show, leave off in time to grieve,
Inough, inough, your joyfull lookes excells; 15
Teares kills the heart, believe,
0 strive not to be excellent in woe,
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.
Song and Sonority 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 Eliznbetlzau2 Song Book, p. 105.
Could the order of the stanzas be rearranged? Could one or two be
omitted without loss?
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 whither doth haste
T h e Nightingale when May is past:
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those stars light,
T h a t downwards fall in dead of night:
Fixed become as in their 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
Edmund Spenser, c. r 585
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
Song and Sonority 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?
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 whither doth haste
T h e Nightingale when May is past:
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Ask me no more where those stars light,
That dolvnlrrards fall in dead of night:
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
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 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 109

Doth first peepe forth with bashful1 modestee, 5 You're the maiden posies
That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may; And so graced
Lo see soone after, how more bold and free T o be placed
Her bared bosome she doth broad display; 'Fore damask roses.
Lo see soone after, how she fades, and falles away.
Yet, though thus respected,
So passeth, i n the passing of a day, 10 By-and-by
Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre, Ye do die,
N e more doth florish after first decay, Poor girls, neglected.
That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre
Is Herrick telling you something, or just playing?
Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre:
T h e musician setting this would see to it that the first two syllables in
Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime, '5
the final line of each stanza got stressed. If the poem is read instead of
For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre:
sung, this stress comes naturally only in lines 8 and 16, and enforces the
Gather the Rose of loue, whilest yet is time,
meaning only in line 16. Before dismissing verse because it reads awk-
Whilest louing thou mayst loued be with equall crime.
From T h e Faerie Queene, 11, xii wardly, 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 equiva- LAMENT
lent" of song? Geoffrey Chuucer, c. 1370
Notice the great stress the rhyme words achieve by occurring at junc-
tion points in the sense; this keeps one in mind of the intricate rhyme I have of sorwe so gret woon
pattern. That joye gete 1 never noon,
At lines 5 and 14 one expects a different rhyme from the one pro- Now that I see my lady bright
vided. Does the sense make use of this effect? Does it make use of the Which I have loved with a1 my might,
alexandrine with which each stanza closes? How? Is fro me deed and is a-goon.
Spenser was a favorite with the poets of two centuries later, who were
writing melodious verse without reference to actual music. 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,
VIOLETS
So good, that men may we1 see
Robert Herrick, pub. 1648
Of a1 goodnesse she had no mete!
Welcome, maids of honour, From T h e Book of the Duchesse, 475-485
You do bring r . woon: abundance. 7 . noldest: wouldst not.
In the Spring 9. free: noble, gracious. I r . mete: mate, equal.
And wait upon her.
Questions

She has virgins many, I. Herrick's Violets reads more lamely than it would sing. Does this?
Fresh and fair; 2. Does it contain any unnecessary words? Does Herrick's poem?
Yet you are 3. T h e words and sentiments are common and even commonplace.
More sweet than any. Is the poem?

108 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 109

Doth first peepe forth with bashfull modestee, 5 You're the maiden posies
That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may; And so graced I0
Lo see soone after, how more bold and free T o be placed
Her bared bosome she doth broad display; 'Fore damask roses.
Lo see soone after, how she fades, and falles away.
Yet, though thus respected,
So passeth, in the passing of a day, 10 By-and-by
Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre, Ye do die,
N e more doth florish after first decay, Poor girls, neglected.
That earst was sought to deck both bed and bowre
Is Herrick telling you something, or just playing?
Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre:
T h e musician setting this would see to it that the first two syllables in
Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime, '5
the final line of each stanza got stressed. If the poem is read instead of
For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre:
sung, this stress comes naturally only in lines 8 and 16, and enforces the
Gather the Rose of loue, whilest yet is time,
meaning only in line 16. Before dismissing verse because it reads awk-
Whilest louing thou mayst loued be with equall crime.
From T h e Faerie Queene, 11, xii wardly, 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 equiva- LAMENT
lent" of song?
Geoffrey Chuucer, c. 1370
Notice the great stress the rhyme words achieve by occurring at junc-
tion points in the sense; this keeps one in mind of the intricate rhyme I have of sorwe so gret woon
pattern. That joye gete 1 never noon,
At lines 5 and 14 one expects a different rhyme from the one pro- Now that I see my lady bright
vided. Does the sense make use of this effect? Does it make use of the Which I have loved with a1 my might,
alexandrine with which each stanza closes? How? Is fro me deed and is a-goon.
Spenser was a favorite with the poets of two centuries later, who were
writing melodious verse without reference to actual music. 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,
VIOLETS
So good, that men may we1 see
Robert Hertick, pub. 1648
Of a1 goodnesse she had no mete!
Welcome, maids of honour, From T h e Book of the Duchesse, 475-485
You do bring r . woon: abundance. 7 . noldest: wouldst not.
In the Spring 9. free: noble, gracious. I r . mete: mate, equal.
And wait upon her.
Questions

She has virgins many, I. Herrick's Violets reads more lamely than it would sing. Does this?
Fresh and fair; 2. Does it contain any unnecessary words? Does Herrick's poem?
Yet you are 3. T h e words and sentiments are common and even commonplace.
More sweet than any. Is the poem?

110 Useful Terms
4. When you read the next poem, contrast its dissipation among glam-
orous 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!
Questions
I. Do you need to know what "Nicaean" means? W h y or w l y not?
2. 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?
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 Useful Terms
4. When you read the next poem, contrast its dissipation among glam-
orous 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!
Questions
I. Do you need to know what "Nicaean" means? W h y or w l y not?
2. 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?
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
Song and Sonority 111
of your mind '1s possible. Are thcy of any interest? Do they seem quot-
able 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 accord-
ance with the impression obtained via the rhythm.
Unfortunately, rhythm and melody are frequently used to compen-
sate for absence of thought. Verse that so uses them isn't necessarily
devoid' of interest.
10
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
15 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 wan-
dered 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 im-
prccis~:. Waller or Jonson wouldn't have claimed to have loved from
Song and Sonority 111
of your mind ,is possible. Are thcy of any interest? Do they seem quot-
able 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 accord-
ance with the impression obtained via the rhythm.
Unfortunately, rhythm and melody are frequently used to compen-
sate fcr absence of thought. Verse that so uses them isn't necessarily
10
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, 5
15 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
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 wan-
dered 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 im-
prccis~:. Waller or Jonson wouldn't have claimed to have loved from
112 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 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; . ..
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 heels-
And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,
And the long glories of the winter moon.
In these examples Tennyson is attempting to match sound to sense,
an idea that has received intermittent attention for centuries. T h e diffi-
culty with such a style is that once you are committed to it, you find the
range of possible subjects sharplv restricted.
Song a n d Sonority 1 13
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. 10
Pope at the age of twenty-three is constructing fairly obvious examples.
In his translation of Homer (1720) he makes Zeus threaten disobedient
5 gods with sonorous penalties:
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,
10
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.
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 addition to diminishing the images, Pope shifts the entire sound-
pattern from the key of long o to that of short i, liberally peppered with
consonants. Compare :
I And lock'd by Hell's inexorable doors ...
...
I Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye
114 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 1 15
Such a technique opens the way to much more diverse and subtle T h e device of making a line end in the middle of a phrase has many
effects than those available to mere mellifluousness. Rlellifluousncss can uses:
even disrupt idiom. TennYson's fondness Eor the word "athwart" is
apparently traceable to his finding the sibilant in "across" unmanageable. And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook; . . .
Exercise -Keats, T o Autumn
On a huge hill,
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Reach her, about must, and about must go; Buckle! . ..
And what the hill's suddenness resists, win so. -Hopkins, T h e Windhover

This fragment from Donne's Satire Ill (written in the last few years of I dream of a Ledaean body, bent
the sixteenth century) illustrates the disregard for mcllifluous ease which Above a sinking fire, a tale that she
has troubled influential readers of his verse in every subsequent century. Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event
Donne had other criteria in mind. Try to say what is lost by each of the That changed some childish day to tragedy-
following revisions: -Yeats, Among School Children

I. Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep; and Examine each of these effects; then contrast the sense of enervation
he that will reach her, since he cclnnot climb straight Keats obtains by making the phrases and the lines coincide exactly:
to the top, must circle round and round, and come to
her by degrees. Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
2. On a huge hill, Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that would Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Reach her, about must, and about must go . . . Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung about his head
3. O n a huge hill, Like cloud on cloud.
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will -Keats, Hyperion
Reach her, round and round about must go . ..
4. Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep, From BIRD-WITTED
And he that will reach her, his course must keep Marianne Moore, I94 I
Around and round . ..
With innocent wide penguin eyes, three
5. On a huge hill, large fledgling mocking-birds below
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will the pussy-willow tree,
Reach her, about must, and about must go, stand in a row,
And so attain her, circling from below. wings touching, feebly solemn,
till they see
6. On a huge hill, their no longer larger
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will mother bringing
Reach her, about must, and about must go; something which will partially
And what the hill's rockiness resists, win so. feed one of them.

114 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 115

Such a technique opens the way to much more diverse and subtle
effects than those available to mere mellifluousness. Rlellifluousncss can uses:
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.
T h e device of making a line end in the middle of a phrase has many
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 I dream of a Ledaean body, bent
the sixteenth century) illustrates the disregard for mcllifluous ease which Above a sinking fire, a tale that she
has troubled influential readers of his verse in every subsequent century. Told of a harsh reproof, or trivial event
Donne had other criteria in mind. Try to say what is lost by each oE the That changed some childish day to tragedy-
following revisions: -Yeats, Among School Children

I. Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep; and Examine each of these effects; then contrast the sense of enervation
he that will reach her, since he cclnnot climb straight Keats obtains by making the phrases and the lines coincide exactly:
to the top, must circle round and round, and come to
her by degrees. Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
2. On a huge hill, Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that would Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,
Reach her, about must, and about must go . . . Still as the silence round about his lair;
Forest on forest hung about his head
3. O n a huge hill, Like cloud on cloud.
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will -Keats, Hyperion
Reach her, round and round about must go . ..
4. Truth stands on a huge hill, cragged and steep, From BIRD-WITTED
And he that will reach her, his course must keep Marianne Moore, I94 I
Around and round . ..
With innocent wide penguin eyes, three
5. O n a huge hill, large fledgling mocking-birds below
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will the pussy-willow tree,
Reach her, about must, and about must go, stand in a row,
And so attain her, circling from below. wings touching, feebly solemn,
till they see
6. O n a huge hill, their no longer larger
Cragged, and steep, Truth stands, and he that will mother bringing
Reach her, about must, and about must go; something which will partially
And what the hill's rockiness resists, win so. feed one of them.
116 Useful Terms
Toward the high-keyed intermittent squeak
of broken carriage-springs, made by
the three similar, meek-
coated bird's-eye
freckled forms she comes; and when 15
from the beak
of one, the still living
beetle has dropped
out, she picks it up and puts
it in again. 20
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 IG
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.
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
Song and Sonority 117
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?
Questions
I. Try to determine the pace at which the poem is most effectively
read.
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?
- A ,
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? Respect-
ful? 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?
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.
"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, 5
Paraphrased from John Ciardi.
118 Useful Terms
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
I Song and Sonority
And when this song is song and past:
119

Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you, whose eyes My lute be stvll for I have done.
5
Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe. As to be heard where enre is none:
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space; As lead to grave in marble stone:
For, if above all these my sins abound, 10 My song may pearse her hart as sone.
'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace, Should we then sigh? or singe, or mone?
When we are there. Here on this lowly ground,
Teach me how to repent, for that's as good I No, no, my lute for I have done.
T h e rockes do not so cruelly
As if Thou hadst seal'd my pardon with T h y blood. Repulse the wsIres continually,
As she my sute and affection:
Questions So that I am past remedy,
I. What event is the speaker impatient for in lines 1-87 Wherby my lute and I have done.
2. Distinguish "there" and "here" in line 12. Proude of the spoile that thou hast gotte
3. Investigate the relation between the sound and sense of the poem, Of simple hartes through lo~e'sshot:
as you did for Milton's Massacre in Piednzont (see questions I to 3 on Bp whom unkinde thou hast thcm wonne,
the latter poem). Do you discern any differences between the two poems
in this respect? I Thinlte not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeaunce shall fall on thy disdaine
4. Note that, unlike Milton, Donne drops the recurring "0" sound
after line 8. Why? That makest but game on earnest payne.
5. Why "mourn" (line g)? For the dead? For his own sins? Is mourn- Thinke not alone under the sunne
ing a pivilege? A luxury? 1-Inquit to cause thy lovers plaine:
6. Line 5 specifies "the flood." What "fire" is referred to? What span Although my lute and I ha1.e done.
of time is implied? May chance thee lie witherd and olde,
7. God is responsible for the calamities in line 5. Is he responsible In winter nightes that are so colde,
in the same degree for those in lines 6-7? Can the latter be simply Playning in vaine unto the mone:
lumped together as disasters, or can varying degrees of excuse be made Thy wishes then dare not be tolde.
for some of them? Are they equally offensive to God? How does this help Care then who list, for I have done.
explain "above all these" in line IO? And then may chance thee to repent
8. Explain lines I 3-14. W h y "AS if"? T h e time that thou hact lost and spent
9. What is the tone of the address to God in lines 9-14? Is it like T o cause thy lovcrs sigh and sLz7oTvne.
Milton's in the Piedmont sonnet? Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
10. Note that lines 1-8 are not addressed to God. Is Donne acting as
And wish and want as I have done.
though he could bring on the Last Judgment himself by demanding it Now cease my lute this is the last
loudly enough? What feelings about the event does he display in these Labour that thou and I shall wast,
lines? in the first half of line g?
And ended is that we bcgonne.
Now is this song both song and past,
My lute be still for I have done.
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 ) 7. grave: engrave. 24. unquit: unpunished. 33. w o w n e : sorrow.

Questions
My lute awake performe the last
I . Lines 6-10 and 26-30 employ the open o sound, ~zlhichhas been
Labour that thou and I shall waste:
And end that I have now begonne: the recurrent resource of subsequent poets when an air of portentousness
120 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 re-
frain 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.
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.
Let them remember Samangan against usurers,
cheats and cheapjacks, amongst boasters,
hideous children of cautious marriages,
those who drink in contempt of joy.
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 mono-
syllables to indicate stanza terminations.
Questions
1. Is the comparison of the two civilizations reinforced by the man-
agement 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?
120 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 re-
frain 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.
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.
Let them remember Samangan against usurers,
cheats and cheapjacks, amongst boasters,
hideous children of cautious marriages,
those who drink in contempt of joy.
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 mono-
syllables to indicate stanza terminations.
Questions
I . Is the comparison of the two civilizations reinforced by the man-
agement 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?
Song and Sonority 121
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.
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.
And through the glass windows shines the sun. 10
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 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
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. 10
0 early ripe! to thy abundant store
What could advancing age have added more?
1
Song and Sonority 121
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.
And through the glass windows shines the sun. 10
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 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
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, 5
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. 10
0 early ripe! to thy abundant store
What could advancing age have added more?
 122 Useful Terms Song and Sonority 123
It might (what nature never gives the young) ing to end in mid-air. It is an unusually virtuosic ending; is this in keep-
Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue. ing with the theme?
But satire needs not those, and wit will shine '5 T h e race of Nisus and Euryalus is recounted in Virgil, Aeneid, V.
Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line. T h e lament for the unborn hlarcellus is at the end of Aeneid, VI. Old-
A noble error, and but seldom made, ham himself drew heavily on the classics, and would have relished both
When poets are by too much force betrayed. compliments.
T h y generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime,
Still showed a quickness; and maturing time 20
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. 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 Old-
ham 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 write-

I'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 Song and Sonority 123

It might (what nature never gives the young) ing to end in mid-air. It is an unusually virtuosic ending; is this in keep-
Have taught the numbers of thy native tongue. ing with the theme?
But satire needs not those, and wit will shine '5 T h e race of Nisus and Euryalus is recounted in Virgil, Aeneid, V.
Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line. T h e lament for the unborn Rlarccllus is at the end of Aeneid, VI. Old-
A noble error, and but seldom made, ham himself drew heavily on the classics, and would have relished both
When poets are by too much force betrayed. compliments.
T h y generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime,
Still showed a quickness; and maturing time 20
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. 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 Old-
ham 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 write-

I'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-
 Narrative and Meaning 125
"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.

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.
rn %ative and Meaning
"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!

"Mak hast, mak hast, my mirry men all

Nothing holds the attention like a story, as Homer's listeners knew,
Our guid schip sails the morne:"
and nothing is harder than to tell one without waste motion. T h e next
"0say na sae, my master deir,
two poems, two of the best known from the hundreds of extant border
For I fear a deadlie storme.
ballads, illustrate some of the principles involved. They are followed by
two poems of Wordsworth's which throw a narrator's difficulties into "Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone,
relief and help explain why so little English narrative poetry has re- W i the auld moone in hir arme,
mained in circulation. T h e problems it presents are so tricky that most And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
poets have preferred to dispense with storytelling and devise a short cut, T h a t we will cum to harme."
sometimes implying a story, or referring to a story the reader already
knows. 0 our Scots nobles wer richt laith
Later, we shall disentangle from storytelling the much more general T o weet their cork-heild schoone;
conception of plot. When we do this we shall discover that every poem But lang owre a' the play wer playd,
has a plot, which is not the same thing as a story. Thair hats they swam aboone.

0 lang, lang may their ladies sit,

SIR PATRICK SPENCE W i thair fans into their hand,
Anonymous Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence
Cum sailing to the land.
T h e king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the blude-reid wine: 0 lang, lang may the ladies stand,
"0what will I get guid sailor, Wi thair gold kems in their hair
T o sail this schip of mine?" Waiting for thar ain deir lords,
For they'll se thame na mair.
U p and spak an eldern knicht, 9. braid: broad. 14. lauch: laugh. 16. ee: eye. 28. Zaith: loath.
Sat at the kings richt kne: 29. schoone: shoes. 30. owre: ere. 37. kems: combs.
124
 126 Useful Terms Narrative and Meaning 127
Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, H e turned him right and round about,
It's fiftie fadom deip, And the tear blinded his ee: I0
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, "I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,
W i the Scots lords at his feit. If it had not been for thee.
41.owre: over.
"I might hae had a king's daughter,
Though scholars hold conflicting views on the subject, it seems prob- Far, far beyond the sea;
able that the ballads have survived generations of oral transmission be- I might have had a king's daughter,
cause the detail which was gradually omitted by people who were bored Had it not been for love o thee."
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, "If ye might have had a king's daughter,
on the contrary, reasonable to suppose that the original versions were Yer sel ye had to blame;
interminable. T h e present version of Sir Patrick Spence was written Ye might have had taken the king's daughter.
down in the middle of the eighteenth century; it was composed perhaps For ye kend that I was nane. 20
three hundred years before that. Longer versions have been collected, in
which the process of condensation was less complete. O n e has twenty-
two stanzas, seven describing the wreck itself. "If I was to leave my husband dear,
Between lines 28 and 29 the most spectacular incident in the story is And my two babes also,
omitted. Docs this give greater narrative intensity (the reader able to 0 what have you to take me to,
imagine more than the writer can describe)? Or is one :upposed to If with you I should go?"
bother about imagining the shipwreck? Is the poem "about" something
other than the physical events? If there is no space at all for the ship- "I hae seven ships upon the sea-
wreck, why are there eight lines about the ladies? What is the relation T h e eighth brought me to land-
between the first stanza and the last? With four-and-twenty bold mariners,
Note that the wine is '%lude-reid," the shoes "cork-heild," and the And music on every hand."
combs "gold." Are these "realistic" touches, or do they impose a conven-
tion on the story?
She has taken u p her two little babes,
Kissd them baith cheek and chin:
"0fair ye weel, my ain two babes,
THE DEMON LOVER For I'll never see you again."
Anonymous
She set her foot upon the ship,
"0 where have you been, my long, long love, No mariners could she behold;
This long seven years and mair?" But the sails were o the taffetie,
"0I'm come to seek my former vows And the masts o the beaten gold.
Ye granted me before."
She had not sailed a league, a league,
"0 hold your tongue of your former vows, A league but barely three,
For they will breed sad strife; When dismal grew his countenance,
0 hold your tongue of your former vows, And drumlie grew his ee.
For I am become a wife." 20. kend: knew. 3 5 . taffetie: silk. 40. drumlie: dark.

126 Useful Terms Narrative and Meaning 127

Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, H e turned him right and round about,
It's fiftie fadom deip, And the tear blinded his ee: I0
And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, "I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground,
W i the Scots lords at his feit. If it had not been for thee.
4 I. owre: over.
"I might hae had a king's daughter,
Though scholars hold conflicting views on the subject, it seems prob- Far, far beyond the sea;
able that the ballads have survived generations of oral transmission be- I might have had a king's daughter,
cause the detail whirh was gradually omitted by people who were bored Had it not been for love o thee."
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, "If ye might have had a king's daughter,
on the contrary, reasonable to suppose that the original versions were Yer sel ye had to blame;
interminable. T h e present version of Sir Patrick Spence was written Ye might have had taken the king's daughter.
down in the middle of the eighteenth century; it was composed perhaps For ye kend that I was nane.
three hundred years before that. Longer versions have been collected, in
which the process of condensation was less complete. One has twenty-
two stanzas, seven describing the wreck itself. "If I was to leave my husband dear,
Between lines 28 and 29 the most spectacular incident in the story is And my two babes also,
omitted. Docs this give greater narrative intensity (the reader able to 0 what have you to take me to,
imagine more than the writer can describe)? Or is one :upposed to If with you I should go?"
bother about imagining the shipwreck? Is the poem "about" something
other than the physical events? If there is no space at all for the ship- "I hae seven ships upon the sea-
wreck, why are there eight lines about the ladies? What is the relation T h e eighth brought me to land-
between the first stanza and the last? With four-and-twenty bold mariners,
Note that the wine is "blude-reid," the shoes "cork-heild," and the And music on every hand."
combs "gold." Are these "realistic" touches, or do they impose a conven-
tion on the story?
She has taken u p her two little babes,
Kissd them baith cheek and chin:
"0fair ye weel, my ain two babes,
THE DEMON LOVER For 11
' 1 never see you again."
Anonymous
She set her foot upon the ship,
"0 where have you been, my long, long love, N o mariners could she behold;
This long seven years and mair?" But the sails were o the taffetie,
"0I'm come to seek my former vows And the masts o the beaten gold.
Ye granted me before."
She had not sailed a league, a league,
"0 hold your tongue of your former vows, A league but barely three,
For they will breed sad strife; When dismal grew his countenance,
0 hold your tongue of your former vows, And drumlie grew his ee.
For I am become a wife." 20. kend: knew. 3 5 . taffetie: silk. 40. drumlie: dark.
128 Useful Terms Narrative and Meaning 129

They had not saild a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie.
" 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."
"0what are yon, yon pleasant hills,
That the sun shines sweetly on?"
"0yon are the hills of heaven," he said,
"Where you will never win."
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,
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?
LUCY GRAY; OR, SOLITUDE
William Wordsworth, I 799

"0whaten a mountain is yon," she said, Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray;
"All so dreary wi frost and snow?" And, when I crossed the wild,
" 0 yon is the mountain of hell," he cried, 55 I chanced to see at break of day
'Where you and I will go." T h e solitary child.

H e strack the tap-mast wi his hand, N o mate, no comrade, Lucy knew;

T h e fore-mast wi his knee, She dwelt on a wide moor,
And he brake that gallant ship in twain, -The sweetest thing that ever grew
And sank her in the sea. Beside a human door!

Questions You yet may spy the fawn at play,

T h e hare upon the green;
I . T h e significant action all takes place between stanzas: what hap-
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
pens between lines 20 and 217 between lines 28 and 29? between lines
Will never more be seen.
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 "To-night will be a stormy night-
processes directly; the ballad manages to imply great psychological com- You to the town must go;
plexity by the juxtaposition of speeches and situations. And take a lantern, Child, to light
2. W h y exactly four-and-twenty mariners (line 27)? W h y the details
Your mother through the snow."
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 conven- "That, Father! will I gladly do:
tional details detract from the reality of the poem? Or has their fairy-tale 'Tis scarcely afternoon-
quality something in common with the climate of the woman's mind? T h e minster-clock has just struck two,
3. Much of the action (e.g., lines 9 - ~ o ) has the quality of a brightly And yonder is the moon!"
lighted puppet show. Is this a mark of nai'vetC in the poem, or does it
bring the psychological drama into relief? At this the father raised his hook,
4. W h y docs the demon increase to monstrous size in the last stanza? And snapped a faggot-band;
5. Did he actually answer her first question (lines I-2)? her second H e plied his work;-and Lucy took
(lines 21-24)? When does he begin telling her what she wants to know? T h e lantern in her hand.
130 Useful Terms
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.
Narrative and Meaning 131
O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
Percy's pioneer collection of ballads was published in 1765 and
reached its fourth edition in 1794. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads collec-
lections ( 1 ~ ~1800)
8 , contain numerous attempts to duplicate the com-
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 con-
cerns 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 un-
stable because Wordsworth's simple presentation can't control our im-
pulse 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 :
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; 5

She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

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?
m m Plot: What Happens
3. What is the connection between the two stanzas?

Note that the order of the words is prose order; the single unusual
in the Poem
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
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.
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 inter-
esting? Why?
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.
This touching presentation isn't completed until the end of the last line;
notice, however, that the last line by itself is insufficient.
5
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 for-
ward. T h e difficulty of discovering or devising a story that will com-
pletely 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 sixty-
133

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; 5

She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth's diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

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?
m m Plot: What Happens
3. What is the connection between the two stanzas?

Note that the order of the words is prose order; the single unusual
in the Poem
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
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.
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 inter-
esting? Why?
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.
This touching presentation isn't completed until the end of the last line;
notice, however, that the last line by itself is insufficient.
5
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 for-
ward. T h e difficulty of discovering or devising a story that will com-
pletely 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 sixty-
133
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 with-
out 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?
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 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 with-
out 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 pro-
longed 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 5
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 pro-
longed 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 137
You cannot make that line sound impressive no matter how you try. slenderly anchoring them down, drawing
What happens next? T h e prince is enlarged like a bubble, a balloon, or them in- 5
a puff of smoke: two blue-grey birds chasing
a third struggle in circles, angles,
Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd swift convergings to a point that bursts
instantly!
Note the force of divine in keeping this image clear of the ludicrous. Vibrant bowing limbs
What happens next? A sudden superimposition of the cannon's mouth, pull downward, sucking in the sky
the commander's shout, and a rude gesture: that bulges from behind, plastering itself
against them in rifts, rock blue
Makes mouths at the invisible event and dirty orange!
But-
T o make a mouth was an Elizabethan idiom of which the only modern (Hold hard, rigid jointed trees!)
equivalent is to thumb the nose. But surprisingly, the line maintains its the blinding and red-edged sun-blur-
dignity. What happens next? creeping energy, concentrated
counterforce-welds sky, buds, trees,
Exposing what is mortal and unsure rivets them in one puckering hold!
Sticks through! Pulls the whole
What happens next? Mortality and uncertainty are surrounded by counter-pulling mass upward, to the right
thunderous enemies : locks even the opaque, not yet defined
ground in a terrific drag that is
T o all that fortune, death and danger dare loosening the very tap-roots!
O n a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds
What happens next? T h e passage suddenly closes on an image which two blue-grey birds, chasing a third,
combines potentiality, fragility, and apparent insignificance: at full cry! Now they are
flung outward and up-disappearing suddenly!
Even for an egg-shell.
Questions
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" I . When you shift your attention from line I to line 2, what happens

to "egg-shell." for which line 1 didn't prepare you?

(This is a good place to notice that the verse is made out of lines for 2. Alark the points in the poem at which the major incidents in its

reasons that are not merely conventional. An actor who tries to conceal plot occur.
this fact will make the whole thing unintelligible.) 3. Line 26 contains the same words as line I . Has it the same effect?

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
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 be-
setting questions for a poet is, "What ought to happen next?"
138 Useful Terms
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 . . .?
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.
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.
Plot: What Happens in the Poem 139
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.
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.
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
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; 10
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, 15
5 Nor shall it be on an Atalic bed;
T h e perfumed cloths will be absent.
140 Useful Terms Plot: What Happens in the Poem 141
A small plebeian procession.
Enough, enough and in plenty ENGLAND
There uiill be three
. - books at my obsequies 20 Marianne Moore, 1920

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?"
You, sometimes, will lament a lost friend,
For it is a custom:
This care for past men,
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
25
been
extracted: and Greece with its goat and its gourds, the nest of
modified illusions: 5
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

Since Adonis was gored in Idalia, and the Cytharean
Ran crying with out-spread hair,
In vain, you call back the shade, 35
In vain, Cynthia. Vain call to unanswering shadow,
Small talk comes from small bones.
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 beau-
tiful 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
I. What happens as we pass from line I to line 2?
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?
shorthand and jade cockroaches, its rock crystal and its imper-
turbabili ty,
all of museum quality: and America where there I0
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 silk-
worms, no digressions;
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, 20
no con-
clusions may be drawn. T o have misapprehended the matter is to
have confessed
142 Useful Terms Plot: What Happens in the Poem 143
that one has not looked far enough. T h e sublimated wisdom
of China, Egyptian discernment, the cataclysmic torrent of emo- A POSTCARD FROM THE VOLCANO
tion compressed Wallace Stevens, 1936
in the verbs of the Hebrew language, the books of the man
who is able Children picking up our bones
Will never know that these were once
to say, 'I envy nobody but him, and him only, who catches more 25 As quick as foxes on the hill;
fish than
I doJ,-the flower and fruit of all that noted superi- And that in autumn, when the grapes
ority-should one not have stumbled upon it in America, must Made sharp air sharper by their smell
one imagine These had a being, breathing frost;
that it is not there? It has never been confined to one locality.
And least will guess that with our bones
W e are kept on the move; each phrase disrupts an illusion of knowing W e left much more, left what still is
all we need to, which is apt to be fostered by the neatness of the pre- T h e look of things, left what we felt
vious phrase.
At what we saw. T h e spring clouds blow
Above the shuttered mansion-house,
DECAY
George Herbert (I 593-1633) pub. 1633 Beyond our gate and the windy sky

Cries out a literate despair.

Sweet were the days when thou didst lodge with Lot, W e knew for long the mansion's look
Struggle with Jacob, sit with Gideon, And what we said of it became
Advise with Abraham; when thy power could not
Encounter Moses' strong complaints and mone.
T h y words were then, Let me alone.
.
A part of what it is . . Children,
5 Still weaving budded aureoles,
Will speak our speech and never know,
One might have sought and found thee presently
At some fair oak, or bush, or cave, or well.
Will say of the mansion that it seems
Is my God this way? No, they would reply,
As if he that lived there left behind
H e is to Sinai gone
- as we heard tell: A spirit storming in blank walls,
List, ye may heare great Aaron's bell. 10

But now thou dost thyself immure and close A dirty house in a gutted world,
In some one corner of a feeble heart, A tatter of shadows peaked to white,
Where yet both Sinne and Satan, thy old foes, Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.
Do pinch and straiten thee and use much art
T o gain thy thirds and little part. I5
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.
 Plot and "Form" 145

I
1
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

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.
rvl
m Plot and "Form" Nativity once in the main of light 5
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,
T h e incidents and climaxes in a poem like Spring Strains are unpre- Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
dictable; they occur when and where the poet's sense of the appropriate And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
tells him they ought to. Some poetic forms, on the other hand, imply a And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand
plot of a certain shape and pace. Here is the layout of a Shakespearean Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
sonnet:
Four symmetrical sentences, the last a sudden stubborn obstacle to the
momentum of the first three. Note that the poem would be less effec-
tive 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.
146 Useful Terms
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?
A RENOUNCING OF LOVE
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. 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
Plot and "Form" 147
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 unweary-
ing fecundity.
ASTROPHEL AND STELLA, XXXl
Sir Philip Sidney, c. I 580
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.
T h e n ev'n of fellowship, 0Moon, tell me
Is constant Love deem'd there but want of wit? 10
Are Beauties there as ~ r o u das here they be?
10
Do they above love to be lov'd, and yet
Those Lovers scorn whom that Love doth possess?
Do they call Virtue there ungratefulness?
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 by-
* products 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?
148 Useful Terms
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. weed: garment.
Questions
I. Does this poem add to the sum total of human knowledge?
2. 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.
A conventional diatribe against convention. Was this poem, for in-
stance, 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
Plot and "Form" 149
ones. T h e difficulty is finding enough to say. Fourteen lines is a surpris-
ing 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, 5
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, 10
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.
5
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 uni-
formity of structure necessary? What makes the hoops stay on? What, in
detail, is Yeats implying about "civilisation"?
10 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?
I
i
 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 Morning

Love Wood
Spring 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.

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 syn-
tax. 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.
But the form, "There was X in the Y," hasn't its usual meaning, nor any
meaning. It is being employed as camouflage.
Or the action may occur without syntactic assistance. This often
troubles readers who regard the presence of syntactic forms as a guar-
antee of order, even when, as in the example above, the syntax is meand
ingless.

Civilisation is hooped together, brought

Under a rule, under the semblance of peace HOW THE MONEY'S MADE
By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought, William Carlos Williams,1951
And he, despite his terror, cannot cease
Ravening through century after century, While in the tall
Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come buildings (sliding u p and down) is where
...
Into the desolation of reality: , the money's made
u p and down
directed missiles
-one sentence, moving unimpeded from "civilisation" to "desolation of
in the greased shafts of the tall buildings
reality," and incorporating everything that lies between in its necessary
They stand torpid in cages, in violent motion
order.
unmoved
O n the other hand, the forms of syntax are sometimes a smoke screen
but alert!
concealing the absence of thought.
predatory minds, un-
affected
There was rapture of spring in the morning UNINCONVENIENCED
When we told our love in the wood, unsexed, up
For you were the spring in my heart, dear lad, and down (without wing motion) This is how
And I vowed that my life was good. the money's made . using such ~ l u g s . 15

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 Morning

Love Wood
Spring 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.

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 syn-
tax. 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.
But the form, "There was X in the Y," hasn't its usual meaning, nor any
meaning. It is being employed as camouflage.
Or the action may occur without syntactic assistance. This often
troubles readers who regard the presence of syntactic forms as a guar-
antee of order, even when, as in the example above, the syntax is mean,
ingless.

Civilisation is hooped together, brought

Under a rule, under the semblance of peace HOW THE MONEY'S MADE
By manifold illusion; but man's life is thought, William Carlos Williams,1951
And he, despite his terror, cannot cease
Ravening through century after century, While in the tall
Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come buildings (sliding u p and down) is where
Into the desolation of reality:... , the money's made
up and down
directed missiles
-one sentence, moving unimpeded from "civilisation" to "desolation of
in the greased shafts of the tall buildings
reality," and incorporating everything that lies between in its necessary
They stand torpid in cages, in violent motion
order.
unmoved
O n the other hand, the forms of syntax are sometimes a smoke screen
but alert!
concealing the absence of thought.
predatory minds, un-
affected
There was rapture of spring in the morning UNINCONVENIENCED
When we told our love in the wood, unsexed, u p
For you were the spring in my heart, dear lad, and down (without wing motion) This is how
And I vowed that my life was good. the money's made . using such ~ l u g s .
152 Useful Terms
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
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
"PAST RUIN'D ILION"
W a l t e r Savage Landor, I 846
(Three-stanza ~ e r s i o n I, 831)
Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives,
Alcestis rises from the shades;
Verse calls them forth; 'tis verse that gives
Immortal youth to mortal maids.
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.
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"
! Plot and Syntax 153
(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 sub-
20 stitution 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:
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 D o you think he was right to delete this? W h y or why not?
I
I Ezra Pcund has called Landor's short poems "manifestly inscribed,"
implying that they exhibit the economy of words required by a stone-
1
cutter, 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.
-Memorial plaque i n the Anglican Cathedral,
Quebec City, Canada, I 767
I O N THE DEATH OF IANTHE
j W a l t e r Savage Landor, I 831
Well I remember how you smiled
I
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!"
154 Useful Terms
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
Plot and Syntax 155
Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, 5
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, 25
And justify the ways of God to Man.
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 tra-
dition 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 sub-
ordinate 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 promi-
nent in Milton's verse:
Of Man's first Disobedience, I and the Fruit
Of that forbidden Tree, 1 whose mortal taste . ..
156 Useful Terms
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?
"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, 5 something that might have gone on much longer?
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, 10
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, 15
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 20
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 25
Arise to thee; the children call, and I
1
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, 30
And murmuring of innumerable bees.
156 Useful Terms
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
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, 10
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, 15
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 20
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 25
Arise to thee; the children call, and I
1
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, 30
And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Plot and Syntax 157
Questions
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 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 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 unfin-
ished 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
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, 5
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;
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,
Plot and Syntax 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 unfin-
ished 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
5 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
pub. 1 6 6 ~
Lord Herbert of Cherbz~ry(1583-16~5)~
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, 5
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,
158 Useful Terms Plot and Syntan 159
But make him perfect, who, the Poets say, PILGRIM. If thou art Time, these Flow'rs have Lives,
Made all was ever yet made heretofore; And then I fear
Under some Lily she I love
When again all these rare perfections meet, May now be growing there.
Composed in the circle of thy face, TIME. And in some Thistle or some spire of grass, I5
As in their place, h l y scythe thy stalk before hers come may pass.
So to make up of all one perfect sweet, PILGRIM. Wilt thou provide it may? TIME. NO.
Who is not then so ravish'd with delight 25 PILGRIM. Allege the cause.
Ev'n of thy sight, TIME. Because Time cannot alter but obey Fate's laws.
That he can be assur'd his sense is true, CHORUS. Then happy those whom Fate, that is the stronger, 20
Or that he die, or live, Together twists their threads, and yet draws hers
Or that he do enjoy himself, or you, the longer.
Or only the delights, which you did give? 30
NEVER MORE WlLL THE WlND
How many sentences does Lord Herbert employ? By what simple
H . D. (1886- )
grammatical device are you kept constantly aware that a climax is immi-
nent? What is the effect of postponing it so long?
Never more will the wind
cherish you again,
T h e syntactic formality keeps every element under perfect control;
never more will the rain.
nothing proves "inexpressible," and each motif assumes its due subor-
dination in a precisely stated chain of cause and effect. What unexpected Never more
quality appears in the last four lines? 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 T h e snow is melted,
music? Might she be singing Handel? Purcell? Rogers and Hammer- the snow is gone,
stein? and you are flown:

Like a bird out of our hand,

A DIALOGUE BETWIXT TlME AND A PILGRIM like a light out of our heart,
Aurelian T o w n s h e n d (c. I 583-1 643) you are gone.

PILGRIM. Aged man, that mows these fields.

TIME. Pilgrim speak, what is thy will?
PILGRIM. 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.
PILGRIM. His ~ o r d s h i ~ habove.
es
TIME. 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 thick-
10 sided glasses whose wash they impound)

158 Useful Terms Plot and Syntan 159

But make him perfect, who, the Poets say, PILGRIM. If thou art Time, these Flow'rs have Lives,
Made all was ever yet made heretofore; And then I fear
Under some Lily she I love
When again all these rare perfections meet, May now be growing there.
Composed in the circle of thy face, TIME. And in some Thistlc or some spire of grass,
As in their place, hly scythe thy stalk before hers come may pass.
So to make up of all one ~ e r f e c sweet,
t PILGRIM. Wilt thou provide it may? TIME. NO.
W h o is not then so ravish'd with delight 29 PILGRIM. Allege the cause.
Ev'n of thy sight, TIME. Because Time cannot alter but obey Fate's laws.
That he can be assur'd his sense is true, CHORUS. Then happy those whom Fate, that is the stronger,
Or that he die, or live, Together twists their threads, and yet draws hers
Or that he do enjoy himself, or you, the longer.
Or only the delights, which you did give? 30
NEVER MORE WlLL 'THE WlND
How many sentences does Lord Herbert employ? By what simple
H . D. (1886- )
grammatical device are you kept constantly aware that a climax is immi-
nent? What is the effect of postponing it so long?
Never more will the wind
cherish you again,
T h e syntactic formality keeps every element under perfect control;
never more will the rain.
nothing proves "inexpressible," and each motif assumes its due subor-
dination in a precisely stated chain of cause and effect. What unexpected
Never more
quality appears in the last four lines? 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 T h e snow is melted,
music? Might she be singing Handel? Purcell? Rogers and Hammer- the snow is gone,
stein? and you are flown:

Like a bird out of our hand,

A DIALOGUE BETWIXT TlME AND A PILGRIM like a light out of our heart,
Aurelian T o w n s h e n d (c. I ~ 8 3 - 1 6 4 3 ) you are gone.

PILGRIM. Aged man, that mows these fields.

TIME. Pilgrim speak, what is thy will?
PILGRIM. 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.
PILGRIM. His Lordshiphes above.
TIME. 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, 1944
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 thick-
10 sided glasses whose wash they impound)
160 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.
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 Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
Your yen two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beaut6 of hem not sustene,
So woundeth it through-out my herte kene.
And but your word wol helen hastily
hly hertes wounde, why1 that it is grene,
Your Yen two wol slee me sodenly,
I may the beaut6 of hem not sustene.
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.
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.
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.
: halt: holds.
Plot and Syntax 161
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
10 Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.
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.
H e may answere, and seye this or that;
I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.
I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.
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.
5 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
word had already taken on its modern sense, to be dying of hunger; but there is no
10 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
" ,,
15 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 Useful Terms Plot and Syntax 163

and "beautCNis pronounced with the stress on the last syllable, not, as in 4. Your yen two w01 slee me sodenly,
modern English, on the first. I may the beaut6 of hcrn not sl~stcne,
SOwoundeth it through-out my herte kene,
Questions
Is this a more complex slaying? Notice that Carew's whole poem is a
I. What is the "trouthe" referred to in line i o? rationalistic explanation of its own title; if she is angry he dies of despair,
2. Love has a "sclat" in line 34 because he is a little boy, Cupid. Note if she isn't he dies of joy. Could Chaucer's meaning be reduced in this
that Chaucer has "bokes." What effect has this contrast on the tone of way?
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?

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, 5
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.

Questions
I. What image is introduced in line 2? How far is it sustained?
2. 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 inter-
course. Is this meaning present in line I O ? Is it the central meaning?
Is the line, taken literally, ridiculous?

Plot and Syntax 163

and "beautCNis pronounced with the stress on the last syllable, not, as in 4. Your yen two wol slee me sodenly,
modern English, on the first. I may the beaute of hcrn not sl~stcne,
SOwoundeth it through-out my herte kene.
Questions
Is this a more complex slaying? Notice that Carew's whole poem is a
I. What is the "trouthe" referred to in line i o? rationalistic explanation of its own title; if she is angry he dies of despair,
2. Love has a "sclat" in line 34 because he is a little boy, Cupid. Note if she isn't he dies of joy. Could Chaucer's meaning be reduced in this
that Chaucer has "bokes." W h a t effect has this contrast on the tone of way?
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?

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, 5
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. 10

Questions
I. What image is introduced in line z? How far is it sustained?
2. 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 inter-
course. Is this meaning present in line I O ? Is it the central meaning?
Is the line, taken literally, ridiculous?
 PART 2

nnn.rtn Discr illzinations

By now you will have acquired some grasp of the extraordinary expres-
sive 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 Ein-
stein, 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 isola-
tion 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 expres-
sive 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 Ein-
stein, 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 isola-
tion 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
T h e sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS. Fear no more the lightning-flash,
ARVIRAGUS. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
GUIDERIUS. Fear not slander, censure rash;
ARVIRAGUS. Thou hast finished joy and moan:
BOTH. All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
GUIDERIUS. NOexorciser harm thee!
~
ARVIRAGUS. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
GUIDERIUS. Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
ARVIAAGUS. ~ o t h i n ill
g come near thee!
BOTH. Quiet consummation have;
And renownkd be thy grave!
From Cymbeline, IV, ii
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.
A DIRGE IN CYMBELINE
Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed to be dead
William Collins, I 749
T o fair Fidele's grassy tomb
Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each op1ningsweet, of earliest bloom,
And rille all the breathing spring.
Presenting the Subject 169
N o wailing ghost shall dare appear, 5
T o vex with shrieks this quiet grove:
But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love.
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!
T h e redbreast oft at ev'ning hours
20 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 eighteenth-
century 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.
WELSH INCIDENT
Robert Graves (1895- )
'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 Discriminations PresentingtheSubject 171

'Nothing at all of any things like that.' 'No, but a very loud, respectable noise-
W h a t were they, then?' 5 Like groaning to oneself on Sunday morning
'All sorts of queer things, In Chapel, close before the second psalm.'
-
Things never seen or heard or written about, 'What did the mayor do?'
50
Very strange, un-Welsh, utterly peculiar 'I was coming to that.'
Things. Oh, solid enough they seemed to touch,
Had anyone dared it. Marvellous creation, THROUGH BINOCULARS
All various shapes and sizes and no sizes, Charles Tornlinson, I955
All new, each perfectly unlike his neighbur,
Though all came moving slowly out together.' In their congealed light
'Describe just one of them.' W e discover that what we had taken for a face
'I am unable.' Has neither eyes nor mouth
W h a t were their colours?' But only the impersonality of anatomy.
'Mostly nameless colours,
Colours you'd like to see; but one was puce Silencing movement,
Or perhaps more like crimson, but not purplish. They withdraw life.
Some had no colour.'
'Tell me, had they legs?' Definition grows clear-cut, but bodiless,
Withering by a dimension.
'Not a leg or foot among them that I saw.'
'But did these things come out in any order? T o see thus
What o'clock was it? Wkat was the day of the week? Is to ignore the revenge of light on shadow,
W h o else was present? What was the weather?' T o confound both in a brittle and false union.
'I was coming to that. It was half-past three
O n Easter Tuesda); last. T h e sun was shining. This Fictive extension into madness
T h e Harlech Silver Band played Marchog Jesu Has a kind of bracing effect:
O n thirty-seven shimmering instruments, That normality is, after all, desirable
Collecting for Carnarvon's (Fever) Hospital Fund. One can no longer doubt having experienced its opposite.
15
T h e populations of Pwlheli, Criccieth, Binoculars are the last phase in a romanticism:
Portmadoc, Borth, Tremadoc, Penrhpdeudraeth, T h e starkly mad vision, not mortal,
Were all assembled. Criccieth's mayor addressed them But dangling one in a vicarious, momentary idiocy.
First in good Welsh and then in fluent English,
Twisting his fingers in his chain of office, T o dispense with them
Welcoming the things. They came out on the sand, Is to make audible the steady roar of evening,
Not keeping time to the band, moving seaward Withdrawing in s l o ripples
~~ of orange,
Silently at a snail's pace. But at last Like the retreat of water from sea-caves.
T h e most odd, indescribable thing of all
Which hardly one man there could see for wonder
LIFE
Did something recognizably a something.'
Well, what?'
George Herbert, I633
'It made a noise.'
'A frightening noise?' I made a posy, while the day ran by:
TVo, no.' Here will I smcll my remnant out, and tie
'A musical noise? A noise of scuffling?' My life within this band;

170 Discriminations PresentingtheSubject 171

'Nothing at all of any things like that.'
W h a t were they, then?' 5 Like groaning to oneself on Sunday morning
'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, 10
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.' 15
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.' 20
'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?' 25
'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. 30
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, 35
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 40
Did something recognizably a something.'
W e l l , what?'
'It made a noise.'
'A frightening noise?'
TVO, no.' 45
'A musical noise? A noise of scuffling?'
'No, but a very loud, respectable noise-
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.
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 slow ripples of orange,
Like the retreat of water from sea-caves.
LIFE
George Herbert, 1 633
I made a posy, while the day ran by:
Here will I smcll my remnant out, and tie
My life within this band;
172 Discriminations
But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they
I Presenting the Subject
the world it opens is always a place
173

By noon most cunningly did steal away, formerly

And withered in my hand. unsuspected. A
world lost,
My hand was next to them, and then my heart:
I took, without more thinking, in good part l a world unsuspected

Time's gentle admonition;

W h o did so sweetly death's sad taste convey, 10
i beckons to new places
and no whiteness (lost) is so white as the memory
of whiteness
20

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.
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?
THE 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 kinds-
since their movements
are towards new objectives
(even though formerly they were abandoned)
I With evening, love wakens
though its shadows
which are alive by reason 25
of the sun shining-
15 grow sleepy now and drop away
from desire
Love without shadows stirs now
beginning to waken
as night
advances.
T h e descent
made up of despairs
and without accomplishment
realizes a new awakening
which is a reversal
of despair.
For what we cannot accomplish, what
is denied to love,
what we have lost in the anticipation-
a descent follows,
endless and indestructible
5 From Paterson, Book I1
I
Each of the receding four poems focuses throughout on a definite
theme, a definite analogy, image, object, or topic: the nameless crea-
tures, the binoculars, the bouquet, the descent.
10
But it would be a mistake, for instance, to say that Through Binocu-
lars 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

Na defeat is made up entirely of defeat-since I experience or human imagination where names and objects aren't avail-
able for direct handling.
 Presenting the Subject 175
174 Discriminations
and tht: palace hangs there in the dawn, the mist,
It would also be a mistake to say that each poem was "really" about
in that dimness,
something else not present on the page: to say, for illstance, that T l l r o u g h
or as o r ~ ero~vsin from past the murazzi
Binoczrlars was not about binoculars.
the barge slow after moon-rise
Each poem "projects" into some other area of experience the things it
and the voice sounding under the sail.
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,
A boat came,
One man holding her sail,
talks concrete language in straightforward sentences.
Guidicg her with oar caught over the gunwale, saying:
Note that Herbert's meditations about human destiny never lose
"There, in the forest of marble,
touch with the flowers.
"the stone trees-out of water-
"the arbours of stone-
A thing is what it is. A large part of the ~ o e t ' sjob is knowing what it "marble leaf, over leaf,
is, and then recognizing that its nature is of more enduring interest than "silver, steel over steel,
the workings of his mind in its presence. If its nature implies certain "silver beaks rising and crossing,
moral truths, the successful poet will persuade us that he is elucidating ((prow set against prow,
these because the? are contained in his subject, rather than inventing "stone, ply over ply,
them because he feels that way.
/' "the gilt beams Bare of an evening"
Borso, Carmagnola, the men of craft, i vitrei,
Thither, at one time, time after time,
VENICE
And the waters richer than glass,
Ezra P o u n d , 1928, 1924
Bronze gold, the blaze over the silver,
Dye-pclts in the torch-light,
3 lire I j groats to stone for making a lion.
1 33 j. T h e flcsh of wave under prows,
I 340.Council of the lords noble, Marc Erizio And t l e silver beaks rising and crossing.
Nic. Speranzo, Tomasso Gradonico: Stone trees, white and rose-white in the darkness,
that the hall
Cyprer s there by the towers,
be new built over the room of the night watch 5 Drift under hulls in the night.
and over the columns toward the canal where the walk is. ..
"In the gloom the gold
...because of the stink of the dungeons. I 344. Gathers the light about it.'' ...
1409... since the most serene Doge can scarce
From Cantos XXV and XVII
stand upright in his bedroom ...
vadit pars, two gross lire 18.m u a z z i : the sea walls. 3 3 . i vitrei: the glass makers.
stone stair, 1415, for ~ulchritudeof the palace
The first section is about the building of the Palace of the Doges (the
2 54
da parte ducal T h e first fourteen lines are entries from minute books.
de non 23 W h y ,lots Pound suppress the sentence of which line 7 is the comple-
4 non sincere tion? Is the beginning of the sentence necessary? What is gained by this
Which is to say: they built out over the arches compr zssion?
Linzs 12-14 are a voting record: ayes, noes, and abstaining. What is
8. Doge: the ~ l e ofr Venice. 10.vadit pars: the appropriation was passed.
176 Discriminations
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 con-
text? Is darkness present elsewhere in the passage? (The quotation
marks around the last lines are to remind the reader that they have oc-
curred previously in the Cantos.)
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 tow-
ers, 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 arrow-
flights of battle;-measure the compass of that field of creation,
weigh the value of the inheritance that Venice thus left to the na-
tions 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 not the motlky 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 Discriminations
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 con-
text? Is darkness present elsewhere in the passage? (The quotation
marks around the last lines are to remind the reader that they have oc-
curred previously in the Cantos.)
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 tow-
ers, 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 arrow-
flights of battle;-measure the compass of that field of creation,
weigh the value of the inheritance that Venice thus left to the na-
tions 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
Presenting the Subject 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
Which of these two impressions of Venice gives you the more infor-
mation? 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;
5 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.
Questions
10
I. Has line 4 an exact meaning?
2. 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"?
I5
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?
20
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
25 writing that exploits the reader's previous feelings about the subject.
Presenting the Subject 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
Which of these two impressions of Venice gives you the more infor-
mation? 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;
5 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.
Questions
10
I. Has line 4 an exact meaning?
2. 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"?
I5
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?
20
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
25 writing that exploits the reader's previous feelings about the subject.
178 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
Presenting the Subject 179
"From the moment it inhales the clear air, 40
"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.
180 Discriminations Presenting the Subject 181

"The blossoms of the apricot and the player) we are in possession of a piece of useful knowl-
'%low from the east to the west, lame,
"And I have tried to keep them from falling." :dge-
is useful for a human being to be disabused of over-
,imDleideas.
Kung, the surname of Kung-fu-tse, better known via the Latinized 1
/ 1 ,
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 4 SHORT HISTORY OF TEXAS
there mention of his writing anything down (line 45). Ronald Duncan, 1950
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 Dedicated to
is the tone of line I I ? W h a t determines it? BROTHER GEORGE EVERY, SS.M.

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.
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.
.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.
Land only fit for the cumbersome buffaloes
- .
flesquite grass just good enough for goats' grazing
4 wind-scorched pasture and not a tree grows
/ I

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 im-
pulses. 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.
There, there the panther the night devours the heron the morning, 10
Till the sun steps into the day's damn dryness there.
:\ dry wind blowing and no rain falling.
'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
' :I buried in the running sand.' I quote Greeley, 20
""' Tribune. T H E Yankee Trumpet
Of '%9. And these reports merely

Whenever some reality is set vividly before the mind, or set into f-,. '"
p"r"'ra~cd the Southerners to secede
Old Deal not dealt squarely.
soluble relation with some other reality (as Macbeth sets life. the '""'
 182 Discriminations
'If nature divides us, so should the Law. What we need
the East can't send us, and if they could, they would not.
W e pawn our harvest when we buy our seed.'
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.
'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)
. . . thanks to Corondo
who lost his horses looking for gold
at Quivira, as did Moscoso.
And before him De Soto. And old
IS-A-Keep said : 'My own sons could
steal more horses than were bought or sold
At Santa Fe.' All Arabs of the blood
With the electric eye and the alarmed nostril
beasts saddled with silver and already shod.
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.
'Poor as sandbanks and drought and indolence
can make it, void of timber and covered with thorn'
-Austin, somewhere around Laredo-'and since
182 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.'
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. . . . land-all equally valuc!css in Texas, where
('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.
'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)
. . . thanks to Corondo
who lost his horses looking for gold
at Quivira, as did Moscoso.
And before him De Soto. And old
IS-A-Keep said : 'My own sons could
steal more horses than were bought or sold
At Santa Fe.' All Arabs of the blood
With the electric eye and the alarmed nostril
beasts saddled with silver and already shod.
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.
'Poor as sandbanks and drought and indolence
can make it, void of timber and covered with thorn'
-Austin, somewhere around Laredo-'and since
Presenting the Subject 183
25 T h e mounted Comanche had taken and torn
our saddles, blankets and a Spanish treaty 60
W e movcd south to Drilzos \vhcrc n.c grcn 2.1:)dcorn
When we were not harried by the Cherokees
Tukiases and Wacos. I wrote'washington
then joined the Rangers with fellows from Tennessee,
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
35 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,
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
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.'
In 1830, Sar;zuel Colt, sailor, carved
out of driftwood the first -revolver,.^
.34 calibre, patented, the first six-chambered-
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
'but we were not outnumbered, not the least,
for Colt's gun multiplied one man by six.
55 T h e Indians attacked on their black-blooded beasts.
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.'
90
Presenting the Subject 183
25 T h e mounted Comanche had taken and torn
our saddles, blankets and a Spanish treaty 60
LVe mo\wl south to Brnzo3 \\ here n c grcn 2 ),)d corn
When we were not harried by the Cherokees
Tukiases and Wacos. I wrote Washington
then joined the Rangers with fellows from Tennessee,
Whom we could only pay in land, paper or
horses needed, women wanted, and few of either
this side of San Antonio. It was not fcar
35 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,
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
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.'
In 1830, Sanzuel Colt, sailor, carved
out of driftwood the first revolv~r,.~
.34 calibre, patented, the first six-chambered-
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
'but we were not outnumbered, not the least,
for Colt's gun multiplied onc man by six.
55 T h e Indians attacked on their black-blooded beasts.
W e emptied our riflcs first. They, to their tricks
circled to draw our fire. W e let them ride. 90
Then we mounted. W e pursued. And powdcr burned thcir backs.'
184 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.'
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!
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.
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
With six months to make it at fifteen miles daily,
T e n horses per man in our remuda.
Can we make it? Yes, well maybe.
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.
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!
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.
'For the first few days followed the Luguna Madre
Swam the Atoscossa. A week to pass
two ranches: "The Laurel" and "The Running W".'
Presenting the Subject 185
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-
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.'
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
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.
IIC Forty-five miles to go now and we moved slowly
with the arse cattle now trying to pass
the lead, then the lead bullocks suddenly
surging like a clumsy ocean back to the arse,
and still thirty miles to go thirsty
and our sullen cattle lolled their tongues
an ominous appeal persistently.
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
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.
Noon the next day trees! trees! we've made it
125 i Whoopee! git along little dogies-here
we let the cattle surge towards it.
186 Discriminations
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.
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
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.
At noon they started to mill. W e quartered,
cutting the mass at breakneck speed, then
like a damn lost cartwheel we slithered
over the prairie. T h n the lead ran
4
over its traces and t e herd stampeded
like a mighty river. W e fired our guns
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
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!'
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?
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
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
Presenting the Subiect 187
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
like lumber in the Devon and Exeter-
she'd be frightened by the proceeds; age
could do with: clothes, more fowls, etcetera.
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
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
and how he'll keep a bigger bunch of steers
I
now, and never see his fire or chair again
till Doctor chains him to it. What will tears,
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.
I can get yearlings at a £ I , the best
cost ~ o s .and
, fatten them on free range for nought
and sell at fifteen quid the thinnest beast.
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
to sell at £20 a piece which should
bring you £28,000 at least
185 which is more than they meadows would or could!
Your loving son, Tom Wade.'
And the reply from Mr. Calib Wade reads:
'Your Mother has persuaded me. I've sent
you the enclosed £200 and left the deeds
of Western meadows at the bank. They lent
lgO I at ten per cent-dear for such a fat pasture
which will be gazed bald if I'm to pay the rent
188 Discriminations Presenting the Subiect 189

from here. Your scheme may be good but whether passion the moment you dare utter a word disclaiming their
a hundred cows can breed to I ,400 right to dictate to you what barb wire you shall use. But their
in ten years I doubt-unless each calf's a heifer! words are idle tales tivice told. It is easy to threaten and tell a
Most improbable to your loving Father.' plausible story but the facts remain unaltered that HAISH has
patents and claims on barb wire and machinery for its manu-
265
1877: facture which lie back of everything in the control of these
T h e editor of The Galveston News miserable MONOPOLISTS. Such being the case HAISH guarantees
opens u p his correspondent column to all vendors and consumers of HIS barb wire a safe passport
T h e subject 'Hedge plants' ... wants his readers' views. from perils by Land or SEA.

H e gets them. One thousand suggestions and some VICTORIOUS A N D TRIUMPHANT!' 270
sent cuttings of prickly pear, briar roses, thorn
Locust and osage-orange seeds; but none T h e y say that heaven is a free range land
Good-bye, Good-bye, 0 fare you well;
of these helped the Nesters much who born But it's barb wire for the devil's hat band;
to field cultivation couldn't stick it there And barbed wire blankets down in hell,'
?
without fence timber a d what there was, gone.
SANDBORN & WARNER
Damn Nesters! drawing with ploughs the ranchers'
range, turning the sods over which were all Manufacturer's sole agent for the State of Texas.
right way u p in the first place. Damn Nesters!
GLIDDEN'S P A T E N T
'VICTORIOUS A N D T R I U M P H A N T !
HAISH'S 24 5 STEEL BARB FENCE W I R E
IMPROVED BARB GALVANIZED OR JAPANNED

STEEL FENCE WIRE I T S SALES ARE 5 TIMES GREATER 280

T H A N T H A T O F ALL O T H E R WIRES
Sold on its merits and not
COMBINED
through the influence of THEREFORE I T M U S T BE THE BEST
threatened Lawsuits

WHOM T H E GODS DESTROY I T h e y say that heaven is a free range land

good-bye, good-bye O h fare you well. . . . 28 5
T H E Y FIRST MAKE
MAD
j You can have Texas. I'll have hell.'

1881. T h e first barb wire fence

Hence the impotent rage of men who have sought to defend the
erected by Colonel Day in Coleman County
legitimate results of IIAISH'S ingenuity who have blindly sup- 255
enclosing 7,000 acres. T h e consequence:
p 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 I 'CHICAGO TRIBUNE
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 260 HELL BREAKS LOOSE I N TEXAS
190 Discriminations
W I R E CTJTTERS C U T 500 MILES
IN COLEMAN C O U N T Y '
'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
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
Presenting the Subject 191
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 the plump seeds satiety and yield
of bread, dung and a full cradle. And here
even our fat graves are by fine dust concealed.
'We push our barrows from Illinnesota.
T h e Land is a desert. Nothing will grow there.'

My fifteen horses lie torn and dead, but 300 T h e rhyme scheme (plain from lines 45-55) is the terza rima, or
for just dying. Wire started those sores then triple rhvme, used by Dante in the Divine Covzedy (page 192). Why
the screw-worm gets in. If they wire, we cut!' does Duncan choose to remind us of Dante? W h y are the rhymes so
unobtrusive?
And that's what we did foda year, but when T h e rhythm is an irregular four-beat measure with the lope of a
I horse in it.
I saw that blasted thing making a 1,000 feet
,
1'

of wire per minute, 1 wrote to my men: What can the poet present that the history book can't? , '
305

'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

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 to-
gether 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
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 193
Far as Morocco, either shore I scanned.
Sardinia's isle I coasted, steering true, 20
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, 40
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
5
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.
10 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 55
With all the waves; and, as Another chose,
I5 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
194 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 Long-
fellow'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. . . .'
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 exi-
gencies 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 home-
ward 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 Medi-
terranean 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 natu-
ral 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 circum-
vent, has ever impinged on Ulvsses' life. T h e pagan storm-pod harassed
194 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 Long-
fellow'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. . . .'
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 exi-
gencies 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 home-
ward 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 Medi-
terranean 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 natu-
ral 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 circum-
vent, has ever impinged on Ulvsses' life. T h e pagan storm-pod harassed
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 195
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
TAMBURLAINE. I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains,
And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about. ...
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
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 unex-
pected 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 195
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
TAMBURLAINE. I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains,
And with my hand turn Fortune's wheel about. ...
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
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 unex-
pected 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?
196 Discriminations
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 isle-
Well-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.
196 Discriminations
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 isle-
Well-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.
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 197
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
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, 45
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me-
That 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. 50
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 55
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 60
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 65
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. 70
"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 nar-
rative? Does the speaker ever move from "this still hearth"? IS the speech
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 197
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
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, 45
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me-
That 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. 70
"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 nar-
rative? Does the speaker ever move from "this still hearth"? Is the speech
198 Discriminations Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 199
to the mariners beginning in line 45 really uttered to real mariners at Upon the lonely moated grange.
this point, or is it only something the speaker imagines himself saying? She only said, 'My life is dreary,
Tennyson's poem is contained in lines 1-15 and 28-36 of Dante's H e cometh not,' she said;
passage. Has Tennyson gained anything by expanding fifteen lines into She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
seventy? lost anything? I would that I were dead!'
Consider lines 18-21. Try to work out the image around which the
I-Ier tears fell with the dews at even;
sentence is built. T h e expansion of the view through an arch as one
Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;
moves forward seems to be. the main analogy; does the "margin" of such
She could not look on the sweet heaven,
a view "fade" as one moves? If the process of gaining experience is the
Either at morn or eventide.
moving forward, can it be at the same time an arch through which one
After the flitting of the bats,
moves?
When thickest dark did trance the sky,
Compare lines 118-21 with Dante's lines 1-15. Does Tenn~son's
She drew the casement curtain by,
image add anythinb? Is he really elaborating the idea, or just blurring it?
And glanced athwart the glooming flats.
Do certain lines of Tennyson's stand out and stick in the memory?
She only said, 'The night is dreary,
If some of them do, try to decide why.
H e cometh not,' she said;
Is Telemachus patronized in lines 33-43?
She said, '1 am aweary, aweary,
Do lines 22-23 say the same thing over four ways? Does Dante do
I would that I were dead!'
anything similar?
Upon the middle of the night,
Dante explicitly shows Ulysses casting aside specific domestic obliga- Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:
tions to gratify his hunger for experience and knowledge. Does Ten- T h e cock sung out an hour ere light:
nyson's Ulysses make a decision of this kind, or does Tennyson allow From the dark fen the oxen's low
his poem to endorse, without qualification, ceaseless activity? Is Tenny- Came to her: without hope of change,
son at all interested in the moral nature of Ulysses' activities? Are the In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn,
values he implies comparable with those of Dante? Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn
(Note that this is not the same thing as asking whether he is a greater About the lonely moated grange.
or lesser poet.) She only said, 'The day is dreary,
To the extent that Tennyson's imagination-as distinguished from H e cometh not,' she said;
his technical ability-was the conventional imagination of his time, he She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
provides us not with a vision of Ulysses but with a piece of highly ac- I would that I were dead!'
complished Victorian English poetry.
About a stone-cast from the wall
A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,
MARIANA And o'er it manv, round and small,
Alfred, Lord T e n n ~ s o n ,I 833 T h e cluster'd marish-mosses crept.
Hard by a poplar shook alway,
With blackest moss the flower-pots All silver-green with gnarled bark:
Were thickly crusted, one and all : For leagues no other tree did mark
T h e rusted nails fell from the knots T h e level waste, the rounding gray.
That held the pear to the gable-wall. She only said, 'My life is dreary,
T h e broken sheds look'd sad and strange: 5 H e cometh not,' she said;
Unlifted was the creaking latch; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch I would that I were dead!'

200 Discriminations
And ever when the moon was low,
And the shrill winds wcre up and away, 5"
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 55
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!' 60
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. 65
Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without.
She only said, ' ~ life
y is dreary,
H e cometh not,' she said; 7O
She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,
I would that I were dead!'
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
I.
substituted sang for szrnq."-T. s. ELIOT. Why should subtle precisions
of sound matter so much in this poem?
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment
I 201
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?
I Mariana represents the sort of thing Tennyson did best. T h e world of
I the poem makes contact with the world familiar to the reader almost
entirely by way of sharply observed static detail. Unlike Ulysses,
I Mariana does not require its author to expose his intuitions of human
1 behavior. H e is especially tactful in not trying to squeeze out of his
i subject more than it contains.
THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB AT SAINT PRAXED'S CHURCH
Rome, 15-
Robert Browning, I 845
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!
Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?
Nephews-sons mine . . . ah God, I know not! Well-
She, men would have to be your mother once,
Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! 5
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 20
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,
202 Discriminations
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.
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment
My bath must needs be left behind, alas!
One block, pure grecn 3s a pist nc 1110 . nut,
There's plenty jasper somewhere in the world-
And 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,
35 N o gaudy ware like Gandolf's second line-
Tully, 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,
204 Discriminations Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 205
T o comfort me on my entablature SO many waiting, how many waiting? what did it matter, on
Whereon 1 am to lie till I must ask, such a day?
"Do I live, am I dead?" There, leave me, there! Are they coming? No, not yet. You can see some eagles. And
For ye have stabbed me with ingratitude hear the trumpets.
T o death-ye wish it-God, ye wish it! Stone- 115 Here they come. Is he coming?
Gritstone, a-crumble! Clammy squares which sweat T h e natural wakeful life of our Ego is a perceiving.
As if the corpse they keep were oozing through- W e can wait with our stools and our sausages.
And no more lapis to delight the world! What comes first? Can you see? Tell us. It is
Well, go! I bless ye. Fewer tapers there,
But in a row: and, going, turn your backs 120 5,800,ooo rifles and carbines,
-Aye, like departing altar-ministrants, 102,000 machine guns,
And leave me in my church, the church for peace, 28,000 trench mortars,
That I may watch at leisure if he leers- 53,000 field and heavy guns,
Old Gandolf-at me, from his onion-stone, I cannot tell how many projectiles, mines and fuses,
125 I 3,000 aeroplanes,
As still he envied me, so iair she was!
24,000 aeroplane engines,
Elwescebat (line 99) means "He was famous." T h e Bishop gloats 50,000 ammunition waggons,
because it wasn't a word Cicero, the canon of pure Latin diction, would now 55,000 army waggons,
I 1,000 field kitchens,
have used. Such discriminations were beyond Gandolf.
Do we learn anything new about the Bishop after, say, line 50? Does I , I 50 field bakeries.

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 re-
searched, are apt to reveal chiefly the reconstructor. Does Browning ex-
pect 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 ex-
tensive 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.
B 1
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.
What a time that took. Will it be he now? No,
Those are the golf club Captains, these the Scouts,
25
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,
30
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.
Now they go up to the temple. Then the sacrifice.
I Now come the virgins bearing urns, urns containing
1
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
5 trumpets!
(And Easter Day, we didn't get to the country,
206 Discriminations Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 207
So we took young Cvril to church. And they rang a bell Verse I1
And he said right out loud, crunzpets.) W e suspect the second man.
Don't throw away that sausage,
It'll come in handy. He's artful. Please, will you Verse I11
Give us a light? L i e are worthy of everything that happens.
Light You mean weddings.
Light 50 Naturally I mean weddings.
Et les soldats faisaient la haie? I L S L A F A I S A I E N T .
Verse IV
T h e last line means, "And the soldiers were lining the streets? The!. And then we are.
were indeed." Crumpet-men (line 45) ring bells. Young Cyril reprc - Hail to the nation.
duces exactly the conditioning of Pavlov's celebrated dogs, which wcic
taught to associate bells with food and then salivated when the bell rang. Verse V
Being human, young Cyril can do more than salivate. Do you think we believe it.

Quostions Verse VI
I . Are young Cyril's parents proud of his acuteness? What has his
It is that or bust.
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 Verse VII
person who speaks it? W e cannot bust.
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 descrip- Verse VIII
tion of the military equipment going by? Why are the figures SO gro- Thank you.
tesquely 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 Verse IX
reader and the parade spectator in common? Thank you so much.
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!
"ygUDuh"
6. What purpose is served by the blending of imperial Rome and
E. E. Cummings, I 944
modern England?

A PATRIOTIC LEADING
ydoan
Gertrude Stein, 1928
yunnuhstan

Verse I ydoan o
Indeed indeed.
yunnuhstan dem
Can you see.
yguduh ged
T h c stars.
And regularly the precious treasure. yunnuhstan dem doidee
What do we love without measure.
yguduh ged riduh
W e know. vdoan o nudn
208 Discriminations
LISN bud LISN
dem
€4
am
lid! velluh bas
tuds weer goin
By now we have encountered a number of instances in which com-
parison 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 expe-
rience-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 man-
agement 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 re-
sponse 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.
208 Discriminations
LISN bud LISN
dem
gud
am
lid! velluh bas
tuds weer goin
By now we have encountered a number of instances in which com-
parison 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 expe-
rience-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 man-
agement 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 re-
sponse 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
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.
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 209
MOTHER. Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits
She could call up to pass a winter evening, 5
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.
SON. Mother can make a common table rear
And kick with two legs like an army mule.
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. YOU wouldn'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!
SON. It left the cellar forty years ago
And carried itself like a pile of dishes
i 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 209
MOTHER. Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits
She could call up to pass a winter evening, 5
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.
SON. Mother can make a common table rear
And kick with two legs like an army mule.
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!
SON. It left the cellar forty years ago
And carried itself like a pile of dishes 30
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. 35
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,
210 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?
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 21 1
Hand me my button-box-it must be there.)
I sat up on the floor and shouted, 'Toffile,
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 what-
It'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,
I Almost the moment he was given an opening,
T h e steps began to climb the attic stairs.
75 1 I heard them. Toffile didn't seem to hear them.
1
'Quick!' I slammed to the door and held the knob.
Toffile, get nails.' I made him nail the door shut 120
And push the headboard of the bed against it.
Then we asked was there anything
80 Up attic that we'd ever want again.
T h e attic was less to us than the cellar.
212 Discriminations Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 213
If the bones liked the attic, let them have it.
Let them stay in the attic. When they sometimes THE GHOST
Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed W a l t e r de In 'Mrrrc, 1 7 1 t b . 1918

Behind the door and headboard of the bed,

Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers, "Who knocks?" "I, who was beautiful,
With sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter, Beyond all dreams to restore,
That's what I sit u p in the dark to say- I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither.
T o no one any more since Toffilc died. And knock on the door."
Lct them stay in the attic since they went there.
I promised Toffile to be cruel to them ' W h o speaks?" "I-once was my speech
For helping them be cruel once to him. Sweet as the bird's on the air,
W h e n echo lurks by the waters to heed;
SON. W e think they had a grave down in the cellar. 'Tis I speak thee fair."

MOTHER. W e know they had a grave down in the cellar. "Dark is the hour!" "Ay, and cold."
"Lone is my house." "Ah, but mine?"
WN. W e never could find out whose bones they were. "Sight, touch, lips, eyes yearned in vain."
"Long dead these to thine . . ."
MOTHER. Yes, we could too, son. Tell the truth for once.
They were a man's his father killed for me. 140 Silence. Still faint on the porch
I mean a man he killed instead of me. Brake the flames of the stars.
T h e least I could do was to help dig their grave. I n gloom groped a hope-wearied hand
W e were about it one night in the cellar. Over keys, bolts, and bars.
Son knows the story: but 'twas not for him
T o tell the truth, suppose the time had come. A face peered. All the grey night
Son looks surprised to see me end a lie I n chaos of vacancy shone;
We'd kept all these years between ourselves Nought but vast sorrow was there-
So as to have it ready for outsiders. T h e sweet cheat gone.
But tonight I don't care enough to lie- Questions
I don't remember why I ever cared.
Toffile, if he were here, I don't believe I. Are we meant to hear real voices speaking?
Could tell you why he ever cared himself. . .. 2. If line 30 of The Witch of Coos could be transplanted into this
poem, how severely would the poem be disrupted? W h y ?
She hadn't found the finger-bone she wanted I
3. Is line 19 in some sense literally true?
Among the buttons poured out in her lap. 4. W h a t is this poem about?
I verified the name next morning: Toffile. I
T h e rural letter box said Toffile Lajway.
THE SELF-UNSEEING
Questions Thomas Hardy, 1901
I. W h a t is the function of line 307
2. Is any attempt made to work up a ghostly atmosphere? Here is the ancient floor,
3. T h e verse isn't "poetic." W h y is verse used? Do the line endings Footworn and hollowed and thin,
usually correspond with natural pauses? W h a t effect has this on the Here was the former door
convincingncss of the speech rhythms? on the tone? Where the dead feet walked in.

212 Discriminations Values: 'the Writer's Scale of Judgment 213

If the bones liked the attic, let them have it.
Let them stay in the attic. W h e n they sometimes THE GHOST
Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed e Mrrrc, 171117. 1918
W a l t e r ~ i In
Behind the door and headboard of the bed,
Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers, "Who knocks?" "I, who was beautiful,
W i t h sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter, Beyond all dreams to restore,
That's what I sit up in the dark to say- I from the roots of the dark thorn am hither.
T o no one any more since T o g l c died. And knock on the door."
Lct them stay in the attic since they went there.
I promised Toffile to be cruel to them ' W h o speaks?" "I-once was my speech
For helping them be cruel once to him. Sweet as the bird's on the air,
When echo lurks by the waters to heed;
SON. W e think they had a grave down in the cellar. 'Tis I speak thee fair."

MOTHER. W e know they had a grave down in the cellar. "Dark is the hour!" "Ay, and cold."
"Lone is my house." "Ah, but mine?"
FON. W e never could find out whose bones they were. "Sight, touch, lips, eyes yearned in vain."
"Long dead these to thine . . ."
MOTHER. Yes, we could too, son. Tell the truth for once.
They were a man's his father killed for me. 140 Silence. Still faint on the porch
I mean a man he killed instead of me. Brake the flames of the stars.
T h e least I could do was to help dig their grave. In gloom groped a hope-wearied hand
W e were about it one night in the cellar. Over keys, bolts, and bars.
Son knows the story: but 'twas not for him
T o tell the truth, suppose the time had come. A face peered. All the grey night
Son looks surprised to see me end a lie I n chaos of vacancy shone;
We'd kept all these years between ourselves Nought but vast sorrow was there-
So as to have it ready for outsiders. T h e sweet cheat gone.
But tonight I don't care enough to lie- Questions
I don't remember why I ever cared.
Toffile, if he were here, I don't believe I. Are we meant to hear real voices speaking?
Could tell you why he ever cared himself. . .. 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?
She hadn't found the finger-bone she wanted I
3. Is line 19 in some sense literally true?
Among the buttons poured out in her lap. 4. What is this poem about?
I verified the name next morning: Toffile.
T h e rural letter box said Toffile Lajway.
I
THE SELF-UNSEEING
Questions Thomas Hardy, 1901
I. What is the function of line 307
2. ISany attempt made to work up a ghostly atmosphere? Here is the ancient floor,
3. T h e verse isn't "poetic." W h y is verse used? Do the line endings Footworn and hollowed and thin,
usually correspond with natural pauses? W h a t effect has this on the Here was the former door
convincingncss of the spccch rhythms? on the tone? Where the dead feet walked in.
214 Discriminations Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 215

She sat here in her chair,

"AFTER A HUNDRED YEARS"
Smiling into the fire;
Emily Dickinson, c. I 869
H e who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.
After a hundred years
Childlike, I danced in a dream; Nobody knows the place,-
Blessings emblazoned that day; Agony, that enacted there,
Everything glowed with a gleam; Motionless as peace.
Yet we were looking away!
Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
"WITH RUE MY HEART IS LADEN" At the lone orthography
A. E. Housman, I 896 Of the elder dead.

With rue my heart is laden Winds of summer fields

For golden friends I had, Recollect the way,-
For many a rose-lipt maiden Instinct picking up the key
And many a lightfoot lad. Dropped by memory.

By brooks too broad for leaping Comparison of this poem with the preceding ones by Housman and
T h e lightfoot boys are laid; Hardy will indicate that Emily Dickinson had glimpsed a nuance of
T h e rose-lipt girls are sleeping her subject to which their more conventional minds were not attuned.
In fields where roses fade. Whether she succeeded in bringing it to full expression is open to doubt.

Regret for real people, or a generalized reflection on the injustices of T h e next three poems open up consideration of
the universe? i the distinction between the event, with its implicit private emotion,
Note that Housman gives his lads and maidens only attributes that and the poem, a public fact;
will die with them. the distinction between having a poignant subject and writing a
"Golden" might not have appeared in line 2 if Shakespeare had not poignant poem; and
written the funeral song in C!i<nbeli72e (page 167). 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.
"STONE, STEEL, DOMINIONS PASS"
A. E. Housnzan, pub. 1936
EPITAPH OF THE LADY MARY VILLERS
Stone, steel, dominions pass, Thomas Care~v,pub. 1640
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
This little vault, this narrow room,
That I am under.
Of Love, and Beauty is the tomb;
All lrnots that lovers tie T h e dawning beam that 'gan to clear
Are tied to sever; Our clouded sky, lies darkened here,
Herc shall your sweet-heart lie, For ever set to us, by death 5
Untrue fnr P ~ Y Sent to enflame the world beneath;

214 Discriminations Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 215

She sat here in her chair,

"AFTER A HUNDRED YEARS"
Smiling into the fire;
Emily Dickinson, c. I 869
H e who played stood there,
Bowing it higher and higher.
After a hundred years
Childlike, I danced in a dream; Nobody knows the place,-
Blessings emblazoned that day; Agony, that enacted there,
Everything glowed with a gleam; Motionless as peace.
Yet we were looking away!
Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
"WITH RUE MY HEART IS LADEN" At the lone orthography
A. E. Housman, I 896 Of the elder dead.

With rue my heart is laden Winds of summer fields

For golden friends I had, Recollect the way,-
For many a rose-lipt maiden Instinct picking up the key
And many a lightfoot lad. Dropped by memory.

By brooks too broad for leaping 5 Comparison of this poem with the preceding ones by Housman and
T h e lightfoot boys are laid; Hardy will indicate that Emily Dickinson had glimpsed a nuance of
T h e rose-lipt girls are sleeping her subject to which their more conventional minds were not attuned.
In fields where roses fade. Whether she succeeded in bringing it to full expression is open to doubt.

Regret for real people, or a generalized reflection on the injustices of T h e next three poems open up consideration of
the universe? i the distinction between the event, with its implicit private emotion,
Note that Housman gives his lads and maidens only attributes that and the poem, a public fact;
will die with them. the distinction between having a poignant subject and writing a
"Golden" might not have appeared in line 2 if Shakespeare had not poignant poem; and
written the funeral song in Cl~mbeli7ze(page 167). the difficult? of transforming subject into poem in the absence of a
sustaining civilization to provide points of reference amid which the
"STONE, STEEL, DOMINIONS PASS"
event in question may be located.
A. E. Housnzan, pub. 1936
EPITAPH OF THE LADY MARY VILLERS
Stone, steel, dominions pass, Thomas Care~v,pub. 1640
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
This little vault, this narrow room,
That I am under.
Of Love, and Beauty is the tomb;
All lrnots that lovers tie The dawning beam that 'gan to clear
Are tied to sever; Our clouded sky, lies darkened here,
EIerc shall your sweet-heart lie, For ever set to us, by death
Untrue fnr P ~ Y Sent to enflame the world beneath;
216 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, 15
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 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.
216 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.
Values: The Writer's Scale of Judgment 217
Ye that held me dear beheld me not a twelvemonth long;
All the while ye saw me smile, ye knew not whence the song 5
Came that made me smile, and laid me here, and wrought you wrong.
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
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 refer-
ences and elaborate figures of speech. What do you think of this judg-
men 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 civiliza-
tion 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. Words-
worth'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 217
Ye that held me dear beheld me not a twelvemonth long;
All the while ye saw me smile, ye knew not whence the song 5
Came that made me smile, and laid me here, and wrought you wrong.
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 refer-
ences and elaborate figures of speech. What do you think of this judg-
men 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 civiliza-
tion 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 a age 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. Words-
worth'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
21 8 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
!f.
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.

EPITAPH O N ELIZABETH, L. H.
Ben Jonson, pub. I 6 16 nnnnn Poise
Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little? Reader, stay. I

Underneath this stone doth lie

As much beauty as could die; T h e quality of the civilization that surrounds a poet won't stabilize his
Which in life did harbour give 5 presentation of his subject unless he manages to incorporate its resources
T o more virtue than doth live. into his poem.
If at all she had a fault, !
i If you look back at T. S. Eliot's Triumphal March and Gertrude
Leave it buried in this vault. Stein's A Patriotic Leading (pages 204-206) you will see that these two
One name was Elizabeth; poets, contemporaries of each other, differ markedly in the degree to
T h e other, let it sleep with death:
Fitter, where it died, to tell,
Than that it lived at all. Farewell!
10
I 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.
Questions Gertrude Stein measures what she sets before us against
" our sense of
the ludicrous, and against our distaste for high-octane slogans, and that
I . Is what is said "in a little" the sixty short words that follow the
is all.
opening couplet, or the child's body, or both? A civilization may be defined as a milieu that offers the possibility of
2. Does all beauty die? Does that of Jonson's verse?
multiple points of view on a single event, that does not urgently press
3. W h a t does line 6 mean? us to deal with everything from the same angle.
4. Does Jonson realize that his panegyric may sound extravagant?
Poems differ in the extent to which they incorporate these possibili-
W h a t does he do about it? ties, as the next two poems show.
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 SIMPLEX MUNDlTllS
perspective on worldly position is implied? Ben Jonson, I 609
6. Does Carew's poem seem overwrought beside this?
7. Is the theme of Swinburne's poem contained in this one? If so, is Still to be neat, still to be dressed,
it balanced by other themes? As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powdered, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
220 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 10
T h a n 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 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 dis-
approving 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," "care-
less," and so on; on the other hand, the coldness of "precise" (line 14).
220 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 dis-
approving 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," "care-
'I
less," and so on; on the other hand, the coldness of "precise" (line x4).
Poise 221
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 varia-
tion 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 I0
those things into which much that is peculiar can be
read; complexity is not a crime, but carry
it to the point of murki-
ness and nothing is plain. Complexity,
moreover, that has been committed to darkness, instead of grant-
ing it- 15
self to be the pestilence that it is, moves all a-
bout 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 al-
ways has been-at the antipodes from the init-
ial 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, fit-
ful advance, the gurgling and all the minutiae-we have the
classic 25
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 221
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 varia-
tion 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 murki-
ness and nothing is plain. Complexity,
moreover, that has been committed to darkness, instead of grant-
ing it-
self to be the pestilence that it is, moves all a-
bout 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 al-
ways has been-at the antipodes from the init-
ial 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, fit-
ful advance, the gurgling and all the minutiae-we have the
classic 25
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.
222 Discriminations Poise 223
Know that it will be there when it says, O n thee, on thee: thou art the book,
'I shall be there when the wave has gone by.' T h e library whereon I look I0
Though almost blind. For thee (lov'd clay)
I languish out not live the day,
MUSEE DES BEAUX ARTS Using no other exercise
W. H. Auden, 1940 But what I practise with mine eyes:
By which wet glasses I find out
About suffering they were never wrong, How lazily time creeps about
T h e Old Masters: how well they understood T o one that mourns; this, only this
Its human position; how it takes place MJ7 exercise and bus'ness is:
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walk- So I compute the weary hours
ing dully along; With sighs dissolved into showers.
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting 5
For the miraculous birth, there must always be Nor wonder if my time go thus
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating Backward and most preposterous;
On a pond at the edge of the wood: Thou hast benighted me, thy set
They never forgot This Eve of blackness did beget,
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course 10 W h o wast my day, (though overcast
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Before thou had'st thy Noon-tide past)
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse And I remember must in tears,
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree. Thou scarce had'st seen so many years
As Day tells hours. By thy clear Sun
In Breughel's Icarus for instance: how everything turns away My love and fortune first did run;
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may But thou wilt never more appear
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, Folded within my Hemisphere,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone Since both thy light and motion
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Like a fled Star is fall'n and gone,
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen And twixt ine and m y sn111'sdear wish
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, T h e earth now interposed is,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on. Which such a strange eclipse doth make
As ne'er was read in Almanac.
THE EXEQUY I could allow thee for a time
Henry King, 1657 T o darken me and my sad Clime,
Were it a month, a year, or ten,
Accept thou Shrine of my dead Saint, I would thy exile live till then;
Instead of Dirges this complaint; And all that space my mirth adjourn,
And for sweet flowers to crown thy hearse, So thou wouldst promise to return;
Receive a strew of weeping verse And putting off thy ashy shroud
From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see 5 At length disperse this sorrow's cloud.
Quite melted into tears for thee.
But woe is me! the longest date
Dear loss! since thy untimely fate Too narrow is to calculate
Mv task hath been to meditate 29. tells: count.
224 Wscriminations
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.
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.
224 Wscriminations
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.
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.
Poise 225
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
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.
I oI. bottom: hull, ship.
I 14. 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 225
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
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.
I o 1. bottom: hull, ship.
I 14. 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
226 Discriminations
with Earth the banker. Subsequently she is a bride, and in the final sec-
tions 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, 5 Hands that the Rod of Empire might have sway'd,
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, 15
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.
Poise 227
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,
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.
228 Discriminations
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 229
'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, "'5
'Mutt'ring his wayward Fancies he wou'd rove,
65 '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; I Ib
'Another came; nor yet beside the Rill,
70 '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, 115
'Grav'd on the Stone beneath yon aged Thorn.'
75 (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.) 120
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:
85 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.
90
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.
95 123. 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?
100 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?
230 Discriminations Poise 231
Every noun is capitalized. What effect has this on the degree of gen- But by degrees when mounted high 5
erality at which Gray is aiming? Her artificial1 Face appears
T h e capitalization of nouns, still mandatory in modern German, was Down from her Window in the Sky,
a printers' custom in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but a Her Spots are gone, her Visage clears.
custom somewhat haphazardly observed. It lent an air of naturalness to
the eighteenth-century habit of generalization and unobtrusive personi- 'Twixt earthly Femals and the Moon
fication. "Ambition" (line 29) is a little more than an abstract noun: it All Parallells exactly run;
governs an active verb. Are we meant to visualize it? If Celia should appear too soon
In this poem the unusual care with details of printing and punctua- Alas, the Nymph would be undone.
tion 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 sim- T o see her from her Pillow rise
ply a guide to oral recitation; the poem is conceived as being in a book, All reeking in a cloudy Steam,
and meant to be looked at. The title draws attention to the fact that we Crackt Lips, foul Teeth, and gummy Eyes,
have before us a piece of writing, not a transcription of what somebody Poor Strephon, how would he blaspheme!
is supposed to have said or thought.
Milton's I1 Penseroso, another meditation-piece written about 120 T h e Soot or Powder which was wont
years before Gray's Elegl~,begins "Hence, vain deluding Joys"; its con- 1 T o make her Hair look black as Jet,
vention is of a man speaking; the poem is meant to sound improvised. Falls from her Tresses on her Front
Are any of Gray's meditations especially new? Is there any pretense A mingled Mass of Dirt and Sweat.
I
that they are? Is this the improvisation of a specific occasion? O r a long-
meditated compendium of reliable sentiments? Three Colours, Black, and Red, and White,
How often does he return from his reflections to the churchyard So graceful1 in their proper Place,
locale? What is the effect secured by these returns? Remove them to a diff'rent Light,
What are "these lines" (line 94)? T h e village inscription of line 79, They form a frightful1 hideous Face.
or the poem before us? Is the distinction between them meant to be
For instance; when the Lilly slipps
inexact?
Into the Precincts of the Rose,
Note that the "mute inglorious Milton" of line 59 doesn't die wholly
And takes Possession of the Lips,
frustrated; beginning at line 98, he or someone like him turns into a
Leaving the Purple to the Nose.
pastoral poet, whose death is formally lamented, and who has a more
satisfactory interment than Edwaid King had in Milton's Lycidas So Celia went entire to bed,
(page 291 1. All her Complexions safe and sound,
What quality in this poem has caused so much of it to enter the But when she rose, the black and red
world's stock of familiar quotations? Though still in Sight, had chang'd their Ground.

THE PROGRESS OF BEAUTY T h e Black, which would not be confin'd

Jonathan Swift, 1719 A more inferior Station seeks
Leaving the fiery red behind,
And mingles in her muddy Cheeks.
When first Diana leaves her bed
Vapors and Steams her Looks disgrace, T h e Paint by Perspiration cracks,
A frouzy dirty colour'd red And falls in Rivulets of Sweat,
Sits on her cloudy wrinckled Face. O n either Side you see the Tracks,
I. Diana: the moon-goddess. While at her Chin the Conflu'ents met.
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 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.
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 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 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.
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.
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.
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.
Poise 233
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.
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.
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.
Poise 233
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. 80
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.
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.
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,
-mnrm Love and Time: Twelve Poems
Send us new nymphs with each new Moon. 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. TO CELlA
Vivamus mea Lesbia atque amemus
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 Ben Jonson, c. I 605
venereal disease, presumably contracted from the swain who is "not
sound" (line 95). Endymion (line 95) was the mythological lover of Come, my Celia, let us prove,
the moon-goddess. W h i t e lead (lines 61-64) is both a pigment and a While we can, the sports of love.
china cement. Like mercury, it is a cumulative poison. Time will not be ours for ever;
If yqu came upon lines 67-68 in isolation from the rest of the poem, He, at length, our good will sever.
what would you suppose they meant? What is the tone of lines 69-72? Spend not then his gifts in vain:
of lines 53-56? of lines 57-60? How much of the poem is occupied by Suns that set may rise again
the remorselessly "unpleasant" passages? Is their tone affected by the But if once we lose this light,
fact that elsewhere in the poem there is such variety of tone? 'Tis with us perpetual night.
Why should we dcfer our jo;.s?
Swift's presentation, in this poem, of the unsatisfactoriness of human- Fame and rumour are but toys.
ity's subservience to time and change is carried on in general terms. T h e Cannot we delude the eyes
poems in the next group approach the same theme by concentration on Of a few poor household spies?
a particular pair of lovers. 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.

Determine the exact meaning of "prove" (line I), and "toys" (line
1 0 ) . What
is "this light" (line 7)? Is it sunlight?
235
236 Discriminations
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?
VIVAMUS MEA LESBIA ATQLIE AMEMUS
Thomas Cavzpion, I 601
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, 15
And with sweet pastime grace my happy tomb.
And, Lesbia, close up thou my little light,
And crown with love my ever-during night.
Campion1s point of departure is the same as Jonson's: the Vivamus,
mea Lesbiu of Catullus (84-54 B.c.), one of the most famous of Latin
lyrics and a natural point of focus for the Renaissance preoccupation
with devouring Time:
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.
Love and Time: Twelve Poems 237
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.
More or less literally,
"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, 5
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, 10
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.
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.
I
I Compare Campion1s lines 1-6 with Jonson's lines 1-8. Which can
you more easily imagine being spoken? Consider the habit of mind repre-
sented 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
5 lady.
W h y is death "timely" (line 13)? Because a word is needed to fill out

238 Discriminations
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 pre-
sentation 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 com-
press 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?
Love and Time: Twelve Poems 239
mix them up; it's bad luck 20
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 25
them.
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 rccol-
lected. rccollccted perhaps under different circumstances and for a diffcr-
ent 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 civiliza-
tions which would not have prized a compliment paid in this mode.
TO HIS COY MISTRESS
Andrew Marvell, c. 1646
5 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
10
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.
15 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 239

238 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 pre-
sentation 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 com-
press like Latin, which can juxtapose "omnes" and "unius," "lux" and
I' 1)
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 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 20
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 25
them.
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 rccol-
lected. rccollccted perhaps under different circumstances and for a differ-
ent 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 civiliza-
tions which would not have prized a compliment paid in this mode.
TO HIS COY MISTRESS
Andrew Marvell, c. 1646
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
10
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.
15 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
That l ~ n ~ - ~ r e s e r virginity,
ved
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.
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.
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
That l ~ n ~ - ~ r e s e r virginity,
ved
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.
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.
Love and Time: Twelve Poems 241
15 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?
20
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 "slow-
chapped" 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?
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
40 of value:
"For, lady, you deserve this state" (wooing as a recognition of human
dignity; one doesn't smash and grab).
45 "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 presenta-
tion 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 241
15 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?
20
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
25 winged chariot."
6. T h e "chaps" are the jaws (now "chops"). What does "slow-
chapped" mean (line 40)? That time devours his victims at great leisure?
7. Explain the last two lines.
30 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
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
40 of value:
"For, lady, you deserve this state" (wooing as a recognition of human
dignity; one doesn't smash and grab).
45 "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 presenta-
tion 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 243
Sufficient concentration on-condensation of-the particular case will What may pass within this bower-
cause it to generalize itself. No summary is, or needs to be, appended, (Let it pass, quo' Findlay)
and no comments are, or need to be, interwoven. -Ye maun conceal till your last hour.
Confucius' "The way out is via the door; how is it no one will use Indeed will I! quo' Findlay.
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, Autres temps, auhes mceurs.
.
as when they render the second half of the maxim, ". . yet no one
uses the proper method for attaining perfection."
YOU, ANDREW MARVELL
Ezra Pound used to advise young poets, ('Don't use such an expres-
Archibald MacLeish, 1930
sion 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 And here face down beneath the sun
the application, that is, to do two things at once, reduces the voltage of And here upon earth's noonward height
both. In applying this maxim to particular cases, the reader is advised to T o feel the always coming on
be sure he knows what the subject is. 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
WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR? Upon those under lands the vast
Robert B u m s , c. 1787 And ever climbing shadow grow

And strange at Ecbatan the trees

W h a is that at my bower door?
Take leaf by leaf the evening strange
0 wha is it but Findlay;
T h e flooding dark about their knees
Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here.
T h e mountains over Persia change
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.
What mak ye, sae like a thief? And now at Kermanshah the gate
0 come and see, quo7Findlay. Dark empty and the withered grass
Before the morn ye'll work mischief? And through the twilight now the late
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Few travelers in the westward pass

Gif I rise and let you in- And Baghdad darken and the bridge
Let me in, quo' Findlay Across the silent river gone
-Ye'll keep me wauken wi' your din; And through Arabia the edge
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Of evening widen and steal on
In my bower if ye should stay-
And deepen on Palmyra's street
Let me stay, quo' Findlay
T h e wheel rut in the ruined stone
-I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;
And Lebanon fade out and Crete
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
High through the clouds and overblown

Here this night if ye remain- And over Sicily the air

I'll remain! quo' Findlay Still flashing with the landward gulls
-I dread ye'll learn the gate again? And loom and slowly disappear
Indeed will I! quo' Findlay. T h e sails above the shadowy hulls

242 Discriminations Love and Time: Twelve Poems 243

Sufficient concentration on-condensation of-the particular case will What may pass within this bower-
cause it to generalize itself. N o summary is, or needs to be, appended, (Let it pass, quo' Findlay)
and no comments are, or need to be, interwoven. -Ye maun conceal till your last hour.
Confucius' "The way out is via the door; how is it no one will use Indeed will I! quo' Findlay.
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, Autres temps, auhes mceurs.
.
as when they render the second half of the maxim, ". . yet no one
uses the proper method for attaining perfection."
YOU, ANDREW MARVELL
Ezra Pound used to advise young poets, "Don't use such an expres-
Archibald MacLeish, 1930
sion 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 And here face down beneath the sun
the application, that is, to do two things at once, reduces the voltage of And here upon earth's noonward height
both. In applying this maxim to particular cases, the reader is advised to T o feel the always coming on
be sure he knows what the subject is. 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
WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR? Upon those under lands the vast
Robert B u m s , c. 1787 And ever climbing shadow grow

And strange at Ecbatan the trees

W h a is that at my bower door?
Take leaf by leaf the evening strange
0 wha is it but Findlay;
T h e flooding dark about their knees
Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here.
T h e mountains over Persia change
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.
What mak ye, sae like a thief? And now at Kermanshah the gate
0 come and see, quo' Findlay. Dark empty and the withered grass
Before the morn ye'll work mischief? And through the twilight now the late
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Few travelers in the westward pass

Gif I rise and let you in- And Baghdad darken and the bridge
Let me in, quo' Findlay Across the silent river gone
-Ye'll keep me wauken wi' your din; And through Arabia the edge
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Of evening widen and steal on
In my bower if ye should stay-
And deepen on Palmyra's street
Let me stay, quo' Findlay
T h e wheel rut in the ruined stone
-I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;
And Lebanon fade out and Crete
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
High through the clouds and overblown

Here this night if ye remain- And over Sicily the air

1'11 remain! quo' Findlay Still flashing with the landward gulls
-I dread ye'll learn the gate again? And loom and slowly disappear
Indeed will I! quo' Findlay. T h e sails above the shadowy hulls
244 Discriminations
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:
And here face downward in the sun
T o feel how swift how secretly 35
T h e shadow of the night comes on . ..
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?
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 glamor-
ous? 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 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 Discriminations
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:
And here face downward in the sun
T o feel how swift how secretly
T h e shadow of the night comes on ...
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?
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 glamor-
ous? 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 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.
Love and Time: Twelve Poems 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.
Questions
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?
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; 10
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.
I
SONNET 93
W i l l i a m Shakespeare, c. 1595
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.
Love and Time: Twelve Poems 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. 15
Questions
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?
SONNET 87
W i l l i a m 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.
h Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; 10
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
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 247
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. THE EXTASIE
In many's looks the false heart's history John Donne, c. 1600
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange.
But heaven in thy creation did decree Where, like a pillow on a bed,
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; A Pregnant banke swell'd up, to rest
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, T h e violets reclining head,
T h y looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. Sat we two, one anothers best.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, Our hands were firmely cimented
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show. With a fast balme, which thence did spring,
Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred
T h e image in the last two lines greatly subtilizes the conventional Our eyes, upon one double string;
figure of the beautiful apple rotten at the core. Eve's apple was a per- So to'entergraft our hands, as yet
fectly sound apple but not a safe meal: it darkened the eater's intellect Was all the meanes to make us one,
and destroyed the workings of grace in his soul; and it did these things And pictures in our eyes to get
to Eve herself before she offered it to Adam. Note that Shakespeare Was all our propagation.
applies this image to her beauty, not to her. As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate
Suspends uncertaine victorie,
Our soules, (which to advance their state,
SONNET
Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee.
Mark Alexander Boyd ( I 563-1 601).
And whil'st our soules negotiate there,
W e e like sepulchrall statues lay;
Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin All day, the same our postures were,
Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie And wee said nothing, all the day.
Like ti1 a leaf that fallis from a tree If any, so by love refin'd,
O r ti1 a reed ourblawin with the wind, That he soules language understood,
T w o gods guides me, the ane of them is blin, And by good love were growen all minde,
Yea, and a bairn brocht u p in vanitie, Within convenient distance stood,
T h e next a wife ingenrit of the sea H e (though he knew not which soule spake,
And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. Because both meant, both spake the same)
Might thence a new concoction take,
Unhappy is the man for evermair And part farre purer than he came.
That tills the sand and sawis in the air, This Extasie doth unperplex
( W e said) and tell us what we love,
But twice unhappier is he, I lairn,
W e e see by this, it was not sexe,
That feidis in his heart a mad desire
Wee see, we saw not what did move:
And follows on a woman throw the fire
But as all several1 soules containe
Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.
Mixture of things, they know not what,
2 . Ourhailit: carried away. 5 . blin: blind. 7 . ingenrit: engendered. Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe,
8 . lichter: more capricious. dauphin: dolphin And makes both one, each this and that.
1 0 . sawis: sows. 1 2 . feidis: feeds.
A single violet transplant,
Sonnets customarily go through the motions of arguing something
out. Does this one?
I I I. get: beget.
T h e strength, the colour, and the size,

246 Discriminations Love and Time: Twelve Poems 247

For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. THE EXTASIE
I n many's looks the false heart's history John Donne, c. 1600
Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange.
But heaven in thy creation did decree Where, like a pillow on a bed,
T h a t in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; A Pregnant banke swell'd up, to rest
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, T h e violets reclining head,
T h y looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. Sat we two, one anothers best.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, Our hands were firmely cimented
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show. With a fast balme, which thence did spring,
Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred
T h e image in the last two lines greatly subtilizes the conventional Our eyes, upon one double string;
figure of the beautiful apple rotten at the core. Eve's apple was a per- So to'entergraft our hands, as yet
fectly sound apple but not a safe meal: it darkened the eater's intellect Was all the meanes to make us one,
and destroyed the workings of grace in his soul; and it did these things And pictures in our eyes to get
to Eve herself before she offered it to Adam. Note that Shakespeare Was all our propagation.
applies this image to her beauty, not to her. As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate
Suspends uncertaine victorie,
Our soules, (which to advance their state,
SONNET
Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee.
Mark Alexander Boyd (1563-1601).
And whil'st our soules negotiate there,
Wee like sepulchrall statues lay;
Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin All day, the same our postures were,
Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie And wee said nothing, all the day.
Like ti1 a leaf that fallis from a tree If any, so by love refin'd,
Or ti1 a reed ourblawin with the wind, That he soules language understood,
T w o gods guides me, the ane of them is blin, And by good love were growen all minde,
Yea, and a bairn brocht up in vanitie, Within convenient distance stood,
T h e next a wife ingenrit of the sea H e (though he knew not which soule spake,
And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. Because both meant, both spake the same)
Might thence a new concoction take,
Unhappy is the man for evermair And part farre purer than he came.
That tills the sand and sawis in the air, This Extasie doth unperplex
( W e said) and tell us what we love,
But twice unhappier is he, I lairn,
W e e see by this, it was not sexe,
That feidis in his heart a mad desire
Wee see, we saw not what did move:
And follows on a woman throw the fire
But as all severall soules containe
Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.
Mixture of things, they know not what,
2. Ourhailit: carried away. 5. blin: blind. 7 . ingenrit: engendered. Love, these mixt soules, doth mixe againe,
8. lichter: more capricious. dauphin: dolphin And makes both one, each this and that.
1 0 . sawis: sows. 1 2 . feidis: feeds.
A single violet transplant,
Sonnets customarily go through the motions of arguing something T h e strength, the colour, and the size,
out. Does this one? I I. get: beget.
248 Discriminations Love and Time: Twelve Poems 249

(All which before was poore, and scant,) possible to "know" the component souls if they had lost their identities
Redoubles still, and multiplies. in merging. "Intelligences" (line 52) are the powers that revolve the
When love, with one another so crystalline spheres to which the heavenly bodies are attached. This trans-
Interinanimates two soules, forms line 54 into an astronomical metaphor, the conjunction of two
That abler soule, which thence doth flow, planets. Line 56 returns us to alchemy. You skim off dross and discard
Defects of lonelinesse controules. it. "Bodies" in line 76 may be the technical term for atoms. May it also
Wee then, who are this new soule, know have its usual meaning?
Of what we are compos'd, and made,
For, th'Atomies of which we grow In The Extasie Donne is not as in many other poems using his learn-
Are soules, whom no change can invade. ing as a fulcrum to express (ironically) an attitude to an event. H e is
But 0 alas, so long, so farre outlining a doctrine that seems necessary to explain the subtlety of
Our bodies why doe wee forbeare? 50 lovers' mutual feelings.
They are ours, though they are not wee, Wee are Since the doctrine exists to feed the mind, not to permit control of
T h e intelligences, they the spheare. nature, it isn't invalidated by the obsolescence of the chemistry and
W e owe them thankes, because they thus, astronomy it incorporates.
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 75
Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.

"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

nmnn Transience: Seven Poems
SONNET 33
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.
Questions
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 indica-
tion OF inherent corruption in his bounty (lines 3-4)?
2m
3. "Permit" in line 5 keeps the human analogy in sight; clouds don't
nw~slTransience: Seven Poems
SONNET 33
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, I0
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 . 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 indica-
tion of inherent corruption in his bounty (lines 3-4)?
3. "Permit" in line 5 keeps the human analogy in sight; clouds don't
250
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 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?
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
Edmund Bolton, 1600
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 gathers-
Fair 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.
For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread
I 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,
IL 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?
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
Edmund Bolton, 1600
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 gathers-
Fair 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.
For as the snow, whose lawn did overspread
I 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;
L
252 Discriminations Transience: Seven Poems 253
Shakespeare's Sonnet 33 indicates, the Elizabethan imagination was
And when the sunshine which dissolved the snow,
much exercised with the way, in a disintegrating feudal society, one's
Coloured the bubble with a pleasant vary,
felicity depended on the precarious favor of the patron, the next man u p
And made the rathe and timely primrose grow,
in the hierarchy.
Swarth clouds withdrawn (which longer time do tarry)-
3. Is the syntax of Bolton's second stanza orderly and straightforward?
Oh, what is praise, pomp, glory, joy, but so
Is this fact put to any dramatic use?
As shine by fountains, bubbles, flowers, or snow?

SIC VITA LIPON THE SUDDEN RESTRAINT OF THE EARL

Henry King, I 657 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; Dazzled thus with height of place,
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue; Whilst our Hopes our wits Beguile,
Or silver drops of morning dew; N o man marks the narrow space
Or like a wind that chafes the flood; 'Twixt a Prison and a Smile.
Or bubbles which on water stood;
Even such is man, whose borrow'd light Then since Fortunes favours fade,
Is straight call'd in, and paid to night. You that in her arms do sleep,
T h e W i n d blows out; the Bubble dies; Learn to swim and not to wade;
T h e Spring entomb'd i n Autumn lies; For the Hearts of Kings are deep.
T h e Dew dries up; the Star is shot;
T h e Flight is past; and Man forgot. But if Greatness be so blind,
As to Trust in Towers of Air,
Neither this poem nor the preceding one tells us anything we don't Let it be with Goodness lin'd,
already know, and neither one makes any pretense at originality of That at least the Fall be fair.
image; nor is either poet reporting a new emotion undergone in connec-
tion with his theme. Why do you think they were written? What is the
Then though darkened you shall say,
effect of putting the transience of human glory, or human life, in a When Friends fail and Princes frown,
much larger context? Is it meant to confer perspective, or encourage
Vertzle is the roughest way,
Stoic indifference? But proves at night a Bed of Down.
Questions
I . Are King's six images introduced in any particular order? Would
FISH I N THE UNRUFFLED LAKES
the weight of the poem be changed if "sparrows" were substituted for
W . H . Auden, 1940
"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 fall-
Fish in the unrumed lakes
ing of a star? What have Bolton's images in common, besides transience? T h e swarming colours wear,
They mirror the transience not of human life but of life's accessories: Swans in the winter air
"praise, pomp, glory, joy." Are they similarly themselves the adornments A white perfection have,
of more primary realities? Note the role of the sun in bringing about And the great lion walks
Through his innocent grove;
the beauties and disappearances in lines 23-26. As the similar image in
254 Discriminations
Lion, fish and swan
Act, and are gone
Upon Time's toppling wave.
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.
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.
LITANY, I N TlME OF PLAGUE
Thomas Nashe, 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.
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 Discriminations
Lion, fish and swan
Act, and are gone
Upon Time's toppling wave.
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.
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.
LITANY, I N TlME OF PLAGUE
Thomas Nashe, 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.
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.
Transience: Seven Poems 255
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 sug-
gestive? 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?
Transience: Seven Poems 255
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 sug-
gestive? 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?
256 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, 5
And turn upon the toe,
And sing hey nonny no!
W h e n the winds do blow and the seas flow?
n.nnnn Four Trances
Hey nonny no!

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
From THE PRELUDE
of Nashe's achievement.
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

256 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, 5
And turn upon the toe,
And sing hey nonny no!
When the winds do blow and the seas flow?
nrvlrvl Four Trances
Hey nonny no!

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. 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 5
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 10
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 15
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
258 Discriminations
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.
Four Trances 259
T h a t givest to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion, not in vain 65
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 things- 70
With 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,
?O 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 90
5O 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
55 95
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,
60 And not a voice was idle; with the din 100
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
260 Discriminations
Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars 105
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, I 10
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 115
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 - 120
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.
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 under-
stood 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,
Four Trances 261
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.
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
I5
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 20
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
25
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 35
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
5 Follow him out of grace,
262 Discriminations
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
50
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.
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,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: 0 thou
W h o chariotest to their dark wintry bed
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
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:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!
Thou on whose streams, mid the steep sky's commotion,
0
I 5
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,
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
Four Trances 263
Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
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,
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers
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 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
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
T h e comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed
50
Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven
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
55
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

264 Discriminations
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, 60
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, 65
Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
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.
Questions
I. 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 men-
tioned in line 69?
From THE SONG OF THE MILITANT ROMANCE
Wyndham Lewis, 1933
1 For me, you are free to spit your hardest and explode your bloody
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.
1
Four Trances 265
I
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 5
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!
T o put a spark in his damp peat-a squib for the Scotchman-
Starch for the Irish-to give a teutonic-cum-Scot
Breadth to all that is slender in Anglo-cum-Oxfordshire-Saxony, 10
Over-pretty in Eire-to give to this watery galaxy
A Norseman's seasalted stamina, a dram of the Volsung's salt
blood.
..
11
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 15
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 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 burst- 20
I 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, 25
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 rub-
ber teats
Should have been supplied beyond any question to these over-
touchy pets-
spleen 30
Regarding my bold compact Fourteener, or my four less than four-
teen.
266 Discriminations
...
111
So set up a shouting for me! Get a Donnybrook racket on!
Hound down the drowsy latin goliaths that clutter the lexicon-
Send a contingent over to intone in our battle-line-
Wrench the trumpet out of the centre of a monkish leonine-
Courtmartial the stripling slackers who dance in the dull Rhyme
Royal-
Send staggering out all the stammerers who stick round as Chau-
cer's foil-
Dig out the dogs from the doggerel of the hudibrastic couplet-
Hot up the cold-as-mutton songbirds of the plantagenet cabinet!
Go back to the Confessor's palace and disentangle some anglo-
saxon,
And borrow a bellow or two from the pictish or from the Manx-
man.
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 tongue-
Install a nasty cold in our larynx, a breathlessness in our lung!
iv
But let me have silence always, in the centre of the shouting-
That 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 open-
Shut 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
going-
When you are accustomed to be stunned-
When the thunder of this palaver breaks with a gentle soughing
Of discreet Zephyrs, or of dull surf underground-
Full-roaring, when sinus sinus is outblowing,
Backed up by a bellow of sheer blarney loudest-lunged-
That is the moment to compel from speech
That hybrid beyond language-hybrid only words can reach. ...
Four Trances 267
...
Vlll
Do not expect a work of the classic canon.
Take binoculars to these nests of camouflage-
Spy out what is half-there-the page-under-the-page.
Never demand the integral-never completion-
Always what is fragmentary-the promise, the presage-
Eavesdrop upon the soliloquy-stop calling the spade spade-
Neglecting causes always in favour of their effects-
Reading between the lines-surprising things half-made-
Preferring shapes spurned by our intellects. 70
Plump for the thing, however odd, that's ready to do duty for an-
other,
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, 75
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. 80
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!
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-
268 Discriminations

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 heard-
But 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. ...
n n m Four Landscapes

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.
270 Discriminations
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 271
After a lace so pure and sweet,
What other help could yet be meet! 60
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! 7O
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?
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 "pm-
dently"? 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 con-
juring 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, im-
plicit 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 pic-
tured playing reeds. These lecherous gods turned into artists; does Mar-
272 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 hap-
pens 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 personifi-
cations 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 main-
tained 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,
5
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,
272 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 hap-
pens 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 personifi-
cations 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 main-
tained 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?
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,
5
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,
Four Landscapes 273
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease, I0
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells.
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.
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 sug-
gest? 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 273
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease, I0
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells.
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 sug-
gest? 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 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 con-
ceive 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 con-
text? Does Keats give his "Autumn" figure any such context?
g . 'Wit," says Mr. Eliot, "is confused with erudition because it be-
longs to an educated mind, rich in generations of experience; and it is
confused with cynicism because it implies a constant inspection and criti-
cism 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, 5 everything? Can one imagine his even acknowledging that gardens con-
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.
Four Landscapes 275
Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. 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 an-
other order of reality, or is the poem simply a tissue of sonorous sug-
gestions?
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 exem-
plified 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
tain 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
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.
Four Landscapes 277
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? 40
Questions
I. What is the image in the first stanza? W h y is it changed at line I 3?
2. 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?

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
 PART 3

m m Traditions

.
. . Death lies in wait,
a kindly brother-
full of the missing words,
the words that never get said-
a 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 dif-
ferent 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 astro-
nomical 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 poet's thought
in subtler ways. Personification, for instance, once came more natu-
rally 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 centuries-
old 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 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 dif-
ferent 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 astro-
nomical 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 natu-
rally 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 centuries-
old 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.
1I Traditions 281
This opens, of course, interminable vistas of study to which you need
I
not feel committed. By systematic reading of literature you can acquire
a sense of such alterations of intellectual climate without knowing all
1! 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)
I 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 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 ex-
pression 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 rela-
tion 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 exist-
ing order must be, if ever so slightly, altered; and so the relations,
proportions, values of each work of art toward the whole are re-
adjusted; 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-
Traditions 281
I
1 This opens, of course, interminable vistas of study to which you need
I
not feel committed. By systematic reading of literature you can acquire
a sense of such alterations of intellectual climate without knowing all
1 about them. You can notice, for instance, how the personifications in
I 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 ex-
pression 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 rela-
tion 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 exist-
ing order must be, if ever so slightly, altered; and so the relations,
proportions, values of each work of art toward the whole are re-
adjusted; 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 Traditions 283
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 CHRONOLOGY
their curious homogeneity of style, merely "express their time," and
give something called "the spirit of the age" credit for a similarity of 1300-date to which Dante assigned his vision
approach which was much more influenced by the state of literary tradi-
tion. For all the poets who were writing in 1820, literary history came I 400-death of Chaucer
to a provisional end in I 820.
4. Every poet develops, to a greater or lesser extent, during his life-
time; each new poem is for him a new enterprise. It follows that his
latcr work will not only be more accomplished, probably more inclusive, Shakespeare: I 564-1616
than his earlier; it will also, to some extent, take our knowledge of his 1600-Hamlet (approximate) Marlowe: I 564-1 593
earlier work for granted. You can't know an important poet by reading Donne: 1573-1631 (Note that Donne
samples, though once you know him as a whole you can illustrate re- in his late twenties could have
marks about his methods by citing samples. attended performances of
Some poets, having worked clear of the very early period in which Shakespeare's plays.)
they were imitating forerunners, and having established a personal man-
ner, simply master the art of repeating themselves with greater and Paradise Lost, written in the middle of the
greater fluency. Others, like Shakespeare, may be seen breaking new 17th century, published 1667
ground in their last work.
1700-Death of Dryden; Pope then 12 years old
I 776-American Revolution; Johnson, then 67, wrote a pamphlet
T h e standard set by Shakespeare is that of a continuous develop opposing it.
ment from first to last, a development in which the choice both of 1789-French Revolution; Young Wordsworth then traveling in
theme and of dramatic and verse technique in each play seems to France.
be determined increasingly by Shakespeare's state of feeling, by the
particular stage of his emotional maturity at the time. . . . T h e I 800-Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads (approximate)
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 1821-Keats died, aged 26; Shelley died at 30 in 1822; Byron died
of Shakespeare's other plays, earlier and later: we must know all of at 36 in I 824.
Shakespeare's work in order to know any of it.
-T. S. ELIOT,in
Tennyson's life ( I 809-1 892) spans nearly
"John Ford," 1932
the whole I 9th century

A book like the present one is no substitute for even a modest library. 1882-1 888-Joyce, Williams, Pound, Moore, Eliot, Lewis all born
T h e purpose of this section is to guide your further explorations. You in this half-decade
can learn a great deal from even a general anthology of short and
medium-length poems arranged in chronological order. I 901-death of Queen Victoria
An accurate sense of who came in which century will obviate much
confusion. T h e following chronology can be expanded as you acquire 1922-Joyce's Ulysses, Eliot's The Waste Land published (Pound's
additional data. Cantos under way)

282 Traditions Traditions 283

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 CHRONOLOGY
their curious homogeneity of style, merely "express their time," and
give something called "the spirit of the age" credit for a similarity of 1300-date to which Dante assigned his vision
approach which was much more influenced by the state of literary tradi-
tion. For all the poets who were writing in 1820, literary history came I 400-death of Chaucer
to a provisional end in I 820.
4. Every poet develops, to a greater or lesser extent, during his life-
time; 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, Shakespeare: I 564-16 I 6
than his earlier; it will also, to some extent, take our knowledge of his I 600-Hamlet (approximate) Marlowe : I 564-1 593
earlier work for granted. You can't know an important poet by reading Donne: 1573-1631 (Note that Donne
samples, though once you know him as a whole you can illustrate re- in his late twenties could have
marks about his methods by citing samples. attended performances of
Some poets, having worked clear of the very early period in which Shakespeare's plays.)
they were imitating forerunners, and having established a personal man-
ner, simply master the art of repeating themselves with greater and Paradise Lost, written in the middle of the
greater fluency. Others, like Shakespeare, may be seen breaking new I 7th century, published 1667
ground in their last work.
1700-Death of Dryden; Pope then 12 years old
1776-American Revolution; Johnson, then 67, wrote a pamphlet
T h e standard set by Shakespeare is that of a continuous develop opposing it.
ment from first to last, a development in which the choice both of 1789-French Revolution; Young Wordsworth then traveling in
theme and of dramatic and verse technique in each play seems to France.
be determined increasingly by Shakespeare's state of feeling, by the
particular stage of his emotional maturity at the time. . . . T h e I 800-Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads (approximate)
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 1821-Keats died, aged 26; Shelley died at 30 in 1822; Byron died
of Shakespeare's other plays, earlier and later: we must know all of at 36 in I 824.
Shakespeare's work in order to know any of it.
-T. S. ELIOT,in
Tennyson's life ( I 809-1 892) spans nearly
"John Ford," 1932
the whole I 9th century

A book like the present one is no substitute for even a modest library. 1882-1 888-Joyce, Williams, Pound, Moore, Eliot, Lewis all born
T h e purpose of this section is to guide your further explorations. You in this half-decade
can learn a great deal from even a general anthology of short and
medium-length poems arranged in chronological order. I 901-death of Queen Victoria
An accurate sense of who came in which century will obviate much
confusion. T h e following chronology can be expanded as you acquire 1922-Joyce's Ulysses, Eliot's The Waste Land published (Pound's
additional data. Cantos under way)
284 Traditions Traditions 285
ADAM LAY IBOWNDYN H e cam also stylle
Anonymous, early fifteenth century T o his moderes b o w
As dew in Aprille
Adam lay ibowndyn, That fallyt on the flour;
bowndyn in a bond
fowr thowsand wynter H e cam also stylle
thowt he not to long; There his moder lay
and a1 was for an appil, As dew in Aprille
an appil that he tok, That fallyt on the spray;
as clerkes fyndyn
Moder and maydyn
wretyn in here book.
Was never non but sche;
N e hadde the appil take ben,
Well may swych a lady
the appil taken ben,
Godes moder be.
ne hadde never our lady
a ben Hevene qwen.
Blyssid be the tyme CAROL
that appil take was! Ronald Dulzcnlz, 1950
therfore we mown syngyn
Deo gracias.
This song's to a girl,
8. here: their. I 5. m o w n : may well.
It's to her
"Clerkes" (line 7) are clerics. Is there an air of comedy hereabouts in Whom Jesus Christ chose
the poem? For His Mother.
Between the Crucifixion and the Resurrection Christ visited Hell and
set free the deserving souls that had been detained there since Adam's H e was as gentle
time. Medieval writers found this theme (the Harrowing of Hell) in- I n repose
tensely interesting, partly because they felt on terms of familiar kinship As dew in April
with Adam and the patriarchs. Our preoccupation with manners and Lies in the rose.
costume goes with our feeling that the past-let alone the age of the H e was as gentle
patriarchs-is too remote for more than academic interest. At His birth
As dew in April
I SYNG OF A MAYDEN touches the earth.
Anonymous carol, c. 1450
H e was as gentle
I syng of a mayden At her breast
That is makeles; AS dew in April
Kyng of alle kynges Falls to its rest.
T o here Sonit sche ches.
There has never been
H e cam also stylle 5 Any other
There his moder was more fitted to be
As dew in Aprylle Jesus's Mother.
T h a t fallyt on the gras; (Adapted from a fifteenth-centurycarol,
3. makeles: peerless; also, without a mate. 4. ches: chose. 5 , also: as. author unknown)
286 Traditions

Questions
1 . Does the modern version reproduce the "weight" (if not neces-
sarily 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 chil-
Lnnnm The Pastoral Tvadition
dren's poem? Why?

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. It fell upon a holy eve,

WILLIE. Hey ho, holiday!
PERIGOT. When holy fathers wont to shrieve;
WILLIE. NOWgynneth this roundelay.
PERIGOT. Sitting upon a hill so high,
WILLIE. Hey ho, the high hill!
PERIGOT. T h e while my flock did feed thereby,
WILLIE. T h e while the shepherd self did spill;
PERIGOT. I saw the bouncing Bellibone
WILLIE. Hey ho, Ronibell!
PERIGOT. Tripping over the dale alone,
8. spill: injure. 9. Bellibone: belle et bonne.

286 Traditions

Questions
1 . Does the modern version reproduce the "weight" (if not neces-
sarily 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 chil-
JJJWI The Pastoral Tradition
dren's poem? Why?

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. It fell upon a holy eve,

WILLIE. Hey ho, holiday!
PERIGOT. When holy fathers wont to shrieve;
WILLIE. NOWgynneth this roundelay.
PERIGOT. Sitting upon a hill so high,
WILLIE. Hey ho, the high hill!
PERIGOT. T h e while my flock did feed thereby,
WILLIE. T h e while the shepherd self did spill;
PERIGOT. I saw the bouncing Bellibone
WILLIE. Hey ho, Ronibell!
PERIGOT. Tripping over the dale alone,
8 . spill: injure. 9. Bellibone: belle et bonne.
288 Traditions The Pastoral Tradition 289
WILLIE. She can trip it very well: WILLIE. Love is a cureless sorrow.
PERIGOT. Well decked in a frock of gray, PERIGOT. And though my bale with death I bought,
WILLIE. Hey ho, gray is greete! WILLIE. Hey ho, heavy cheer!
PERIGOT. And in a kirtle of green saye, PERIGOT. Yet should thilk lass not from my thought, 55
WILLIE. T h e green is for maidens meet. WILLIE. SOyou may buy gold too dear.
PERIGOT. A chapelet on her head she wore, PERIGOT. But whether in painful love I pine,
WILLIE. Hey ho, chapelet! WILLIE. Hey ho, pinching pain!
PERIGOT. Of sweet violets therein was store, PERIGOT. Or thrive in wealth, she shall be mine.
WILLIE. She sweeter than the violet. WILLIE. But if thou can her obtain. 60
PERIGOT. My sheep did leave their wonted food, PERIGOT. And if for graceless grief I die,
WILLIE. Hey ho, silly sheep! WILLIE. Hey ho graceless grief!
PERIGOT. And gazed on her as they were wood, PERIGOT. Witness she slew me with her eye:
WILLIE. Wood as he that did them keep. WILLIE. Let thy folly be the prief.
PERIGOT. As the bonilasse passed by, PERIGOT. And you that saw it, simple sheep, 65
WILLIE. Hey ho, bonilasse! WILLIE. Hey ho, the fair flock!
PERIGOT. She rou'd at me with glancing eye PERIGOT. For prief thereof, my death shall weep.
WILLIE. As clear as the crystal glass. WILLIE. And moan with many a mock.
PERIGOT. All as the sunny beam so bright, PERIGOT. SOlearned I love on a holy eve,
WILLIE. Hey ho, the sun beam! WILLIE. Hey ho, holiday. 70
PERIGOT. Glanceth from Phoebus' face forthright, PERIGOT. That ever since my heart did grieve.
WILLIE. So love into thy heart did stream: WILLIE. NOWendeth our roundelay.
PERIGOT. Or as the thunder cleaves the clouds
From the Shepherd's Calendar, August
WILLIE. Hey ho, the thunder!
PERIGOT. -
Wherein the lightsome levin shrouds, 64. prief: proof.
WILLIE. So cleaves thy soul asunder.
PERIGOT. Or as Dame Cynthia's silver ray At various points Willy's "hey ho" seems to mean "Here we go again,"
WILLIE. Hey ho, the moonlight! as yet another predictable image turns up. Elsewhere we find him slip-
PERIGOT. Upon the glittering wave doth play ping in ahead of Perigot and supplying the climaxes (line 32, for ex-
WILLIE. Such play is a piteous plight; ample). They are improvising as they go along, competing for a prize
PERIGOT. T h e glance into my heart did glide the match ends in a draw.
WILLIE. Hey ho, the glider!
This is not to be mistaken for a folk poem; Spenser was a soldier,
PERIGOT. Therewith my soul was sharply gride.
scholar, diplomat, and courtier.
WILLIE. Such wounds soon waxen wider.
PERIGOT. Hasting to raunch the arrow out,
WILLIE. Hey ho, Perigot!
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
PERIGOT. I left the head in my heart-root,
Clzristopher Marlowe (I p b . I 599
p3),
WILLIE. It was a desperate shot.
PERIGOT. There it rankleth ay more and more
WILLIE. Hey ho, the arrow! Come live with me and be my love,
PERIGOT. N e can I find salve for my sore : And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
a
p
14. greete: mourning. I 5 . saye: fine cloth. 23. wood: mad. Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
27. rou'd: shot an arrow. 35. levin: lightning. 43. g~ide:
4 5 . raunch: wrench. 2. prove: try OUL
290 Traditions
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend [Edward King],
unfortunately drown'd in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas,
And I will make thee beds of roses,
1 6 3 7 And by occasion foretels the ruine o f our corrupted Clergy t h e n
And a thousand fragrant posies,
i n their height.
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 shep-
herd" 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.
The Pastoral Tradition 291
LYClDAS
John Milton, I 637
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, 15
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 20
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 25
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 30
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,
292 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,
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;
292 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;
The Pastoral Tradition
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
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.
294 Traditions
Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold
I20
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.
The Pastoral Tradition 295
Sleepst by the fable of B~?llerusold, I60
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, '65
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, 170
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, '75
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.
185
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, 190
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.
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 gram-
matical 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 consider-
ably 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
296 Traditions
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 Mil-
ton 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 conven-
tion 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 publi-
cation 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 mysteri-
ously 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
The Pastoral Tradition 297
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
'5
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. 20
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,
25
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. . . . 30
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.
298 Traditions
Lobbin, I swear, believe who will my vows, 35
Her breath by far excell'd the breathing cows. ...
For Spenser, transposing classical shepherds to the English country-
side 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
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.
0,for a draught of vintage! that hath been
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, I5
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
The Pastoral Tradition 299
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 20
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,
25
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.
30
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.
40
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.
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!
300 Traditions
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain-
T o thy high requiem become a sod. 60
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 65
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. 70
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 75
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? 80
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?
- . Is the mental landscape of stanzas 4 and 5 related to anything
3 Cuckoe, to welcome in the spring,
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
The Pastoral Tradition 301
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 under-
stands 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 recur-
rence comes with the added surprise of a very short line. In some stan-
zas-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
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.
"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 tran-
scription. "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
302 Tradltlons
misleading conception of the scope of poetry does not necessarily invali-
date 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 attrib-
uted 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 Pastoral Tradition 303
starts, "My heart aches." Where does Sidney start? W h e n does he intro-
duce 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.

'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, 5
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. 10

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; 15
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. 20
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.

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

~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, 5
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. 10
304
A Poet Develops 305
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 25
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. 30
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.' 40
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,
45
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
Marlowe translated the Amores while still an undergraduate at Cam-
bridge. One edition was publicly burnt by order of the Archbishop of
306 Traditions
Canterbury and the Bishop of London in 15.99,six years after the trans-
lator'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 move-
ment can you find in the first two lines?
How many lines begin with four accented syllables and a pause?
I l l I / I / /
(How oft wished 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 main-
tain 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 dawn-
goddess 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 sym-
bolized 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. Mar-
lowe (and Ovid behind him) writes as though he is perfectly con-
vinced of her personal existence. One isn't tempted to regard the mytho-
logical 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 307
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, 5
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?
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? Com-
pare 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 giv-
ing 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
308 Traditions
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 informa-
tion 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 special-
ists today have heard of. By the time he received the couplet it had been
turned into a neat vehicle for elegant poetizing.
From COOPER'S HILL
Sir J o h n Denham, I 642
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; . .. . W h y bade ye else, ye Powers! her soul aspire
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 personifica-
tion 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 con-
vention that every noun needs an adjective), he manages, sacrificing
much of Denham's meditative blandness, to stay considerably closer to
the presented object.
A Poet Develops 309
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 de-
duce from this advertisement?
ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF A N UNFORTUNATE LADY
Alexander Pope, 1 7 I 7
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,
5 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?
10
Is there no bright reversion in the sky,
For those who greatly think, or bravely die?
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.
 !
310 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
I
T o midnight dances, and the publick show?
What tho' no weeping Loves thy ashes grace,
Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face?
k
W h a t tho' no sacred earth allow thee room,
I
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, 65
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. 70
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; 75
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, 80
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,
T h e Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
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
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 lan-
guage" 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 genu-
ine emotion; his success can be gauged from the fact that his contempo-
raries didn't doubt that this was a real Lady; they wanted to know her
name and were put off by an annotator's yarn.
310 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,
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:
310 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:
I A Poet Develops 31 1
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, 65
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; 75
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, 80
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,
T h e Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
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 lan-
guage" 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 genu-
ine emotion; his success can be gauged from the fact that his contempo-
raries 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, 65
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; 75
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, 80
Life's idle business at one gasp be o'er,
T h e Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more!
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 lan-
guage" 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 genu-
ine emotion; his success can be gauged from the fact that his contempo-
raries didn't doubt that this was a real Lady; they wanted to know her
name and were put off by an annotator's yarn.
312 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 begin-
ning 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 amuse-
ment 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 neat-
ness. 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 neces-
sary function? Note the strong implication that the Elegy itself will out-
last 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.
A Poet Develops 31 3
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; . . .
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, 25
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, 35
Guard the sure barrier between that and Sense;
; r. Sooterkin: an imaginary kind of afterbirth insultingly attributed to Dutch
women.
314 Traditions
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; 40
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. . ..
"0born in sin, and forth in folly brought! 45
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. 50
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; 55
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! 60
Soon to that mass of Nonsense to return,
Where things destroyed are swept to things unborn."
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 "pon-
d'rous" mean (line 29)'; Look up the etymology of "ponder."
Examine the conventional religious imagery of lines 31-34. One ex.
A Poet Develops 315
pects something like "healing balm" in line 32, and a reference to sun-
light 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 :
Like buoys, that never sink into the flood,
O n Learning's surface we but lie and nod.
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 un-
redeemed innocent goes to Limbo and escapes various adult indigni-
ties. Tate and Shadwell were predecessors of the Hero's in the Laureate-
ship.
"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?
316 Traditions
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 Wrong-
0 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 317
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, flow-
ers, 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? Com-
pare the tone of lines 4 5 and 46. Is the latter slightly comic? What is the
320 Traditions
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
320 Traditions
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.
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
A Poet Develops 321
Break bitter furies of complexity,
Those images that yet
Fresh images beget,
T h a t dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea. 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
Academy of Plato. ... I think that in early Byzantium, and' maybe
never before or since in recorded history, religious, aesthetic and practi-
cal 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 illumi-
nator 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 some-
where 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"
A Poet Develops 321
Break bitter furies of complexity,
Those images that yet
Fresh images beget,
That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea. 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
Academy of Plato. ... I think that in early Byzantium, and' maybe
never before or since in recorded history, religious, aesthetic and practi-
cal 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 illumi-
nator 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 some-
where 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"
322 Traditions

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 embar-
rassed 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 night- -
world would have been impossible in the eighteenth century; the open-
ing 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 termi-
T h e following passages from Dryden, Johnson, and Crabbe illustrate
nology leans on an unchallenged tradition. All poetic terminology leans
uses to which Pope did n o t put the pentameter couplet even within the
on similar massive unspoken assumptions about the value of this symbol
decorums of eighteenth-century moral satire. 'The Marlowe poem used
and that, but the traditions slowly change. T h e use of "flame" in Yeats's
as a point of reference earlier was not eighteenth-century moral satire at
fourth stanza as an image of unquenchable vitality would have puzzled
all, but something completely different. W e were actually using it to
a generation accustomed to thinking of vital warmth only in terms of an
locate the eighteenth century itself.
animated body.
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.
324 Traditions
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. 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
Variations on the Couplet 325
elected sheriff of London, a post he filled with conspicuoas parsimony.
For his piety, compare Leviticus xrx, I 8, ancl Matthew xvrrr, 20.
'5
CHARACTER OF OG
John Dryden, 1682
. . . But though heav'n made him poor (with rev'rence speaking)
20 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;
25
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;
30
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,
35
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.
40
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,
45
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, 35
T o talk like Doeg, and to write like thee.
From Absalom and Achito~hel,Part 11
326 Traditions
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 de-
pend 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 trans-
forms 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 327
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, 25
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. 30
From T h e Vanity of Human Wishes
"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 past-
But take a slight memorial of the last.
T o what famed college we our Vicar owe,
T o what fair county, let historians show.
328 Traditions
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 329
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; 50
T h e easy followers in the female train,
Led without love, and captives without chain. ...
From T h e Borough, I11
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
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
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-
328 Traditions
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;
N o haughty virtues stirr'd his ~ e a c e f u mind,
l whereas the usual procedure in satiric couplets is to compare the subject
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;
Variations on the Couplet 329
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
Prose words, generally in prose order. Can you find any conspicuous
images? Crabbe's procedure is to attach his words directly to 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
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-
330 Traditions
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 5 Geoffrey Chaucer, c. 1385
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 10
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 I5
Black shade about the ceiling, though fine slits
Across the buttress suffer light by fits
Upon a marvel in the midst. Nay, stoop-
A dullish grey-streaked cumbrous font, a group
Round it,-each side of it, where'er one sees 20
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 25
T h e y muse upon the ground, eyelids half closed; ...
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.
Traditions 331
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 altera-
tions in the moral structure of civilization itself, certain poetic critera
recur, certain achievements break free of "period." T h e following pas-
sages, 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
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 com-
edy." 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.
332 Traditions
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.
20. "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.
43, swich f y n : such an end. 45. estat real: royal status (he was a prince).
46. lust: desire (softer than "lust"). 47. brotelnesse: brittleness.
332 Traditions
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.
20. "But alas! (except that it was God's will, and I mustn't lament it)."
23. goost: Soul.
-.
2,i. holownesse: concavim.
~~
eighthe
- spere: the circle of the fixed stars.
- on the other side the four earthly elements."
25. "leavinF:
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.
43. swich fyn: such an end. 45. estat real: royal status (he was a ~ r i n c e ) .
46. lust: desire (softer than "lust"). 47. brotelnesse: brittleness.
Traditions 333
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, 75
With a1 myn herte of mercy evere I preyk,
And to the Lord right thus I speke and seye:
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.
64. payens: pagans'. 67. gzcerdoiin: reward. travaille: struggle.
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.
Traditions 333
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:
- revevreth
52. a ,
is an im~erative:so are the other verbs in -th in the next six lines.
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.
334 Traditions 1 Traditions 335
Thou oon, and two, and thre, eterne on-lyve, reality of the Holy Family they painted them in modern dress. Later and
That regnest ay in thre, and two, and oon, more sentimental painters made them antique.
Uncircumscript, and a1 mayst circumscrive, 80 T h e final stanzas of the Troilus display Chaucer's complete self-
U s from visible and invisible foon possession. H e is aware that the book he has just finished challenges
Defende, and to thy mercy, everichon, comparison with works of Ovid and Homer; equally aware that there is
So make us, Jesus, for thi grace, digne, a plenum of great poetry which he hasn't rendered obsolete and which it
For love of mayde and moder thyn benigne. behooves his book to enter with suitable deference. H e is also aware of
Amen. 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
78. on-lyve:living. 80. mayst: art able to. 81. foon: foes.
82. everichon: each one of us. 83. digne: worthy. 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
T h e finale of probably the finest narrative poem in English.
to him.
T h e student can read Chaucer for the meaning without mastering the
T h e range of tone and feeling in these twelve stanzas needs no com-
pronunciation of Middle English vowels. T h e meter, however, will elude
ment. W h y is Troilus's death disposed of in a single line (21)? What is
him, as it did everyone from the sixteenth century until Tyrwhitt's edi-
the tone of this line? Is the tone of "fiers" somewhat weighted toward
tion of 1775, unless he notes that words ending in e have usually one
irony?
syllable more than their modern counterparts. In the above passage, the
Examine the devices by which lines like 32 and 47 are justified. Is the
dotted letter "e" is meant to be pronounced as a separate syllable, some-
dismissal of pagan gods and pagan literature (lines 64-70) simply an
what like the a in idea. When this syllable is stressed it is printed "6."
appeal to the piety of the medieval reader, or is it justified by the rest
T h u s "herte" has one syllable, "goode" has two, and "vanyt6" is pro-
of the passage? Note the parallel structure of the first and second-last
nounced with the stress on the last syllable, not, as in modern English,
stanzas quoted; what is the function of this? What is the effect of the
on the first.
implied parallel (and contrast) between the death of Christ and that
Attempts to translate Chaucer's verse into modern English fail, with-
of Troilus?
out exception, not by losing the "quaintness" but by diluting his sharp-
ness with off-center or unnecessary words introduced to solve metrical THE RECREATORS
difficulties. Chaucer's mind isn't "quaint" in the least. H e uses his lan- Ezra Pound, 1945
guage in an exceedingly businesslike way. H e is intent on his meaning.
Spenser, by contrast, archaizes constantly, as do many poets after him, libretto Yet
to impart a flavor to meaning which he doesn't take seriously enough to Ere the season died a-cold
trust on its own. Borne upon a zephyr's shoulder
I rose through the aureate sky
A gentle Knight was prickingon the plaine, Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest 5
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde Dolmetsch ever be thy guest,
Has he tempered the viol's wood
(opening of Spenser's Faerie Queene) isn't Elizabethan but bastard- T o enforce both the grave and the acute?
medieval. Spenser doesn't at bottom believe in the reality of his Knight. Has he curved us the bowl of the lute?
Chaucer, writing in the fourteenth century, is sufficiently persuaded Lawes and Jenkyns guard thy rest 10
of the reality of the Greeks and Trojans of his story to make them four- Dolmetsch ever be thy guest
teenth-century figures. For this reason they can be perfectly well imag- Hast 'ou fashioned so airy a mood
ined by the twentieth-century reader as twentieth-century figures. This T o draw up leaf from the root?
isn't naivetd on Chaucer's part. It is the mark of an imagination powerful Hast 'ou found a cloud so light
enough to break through chronology. When painters believed in the As seemed neither mist nor shade? 15
336 Traditions
I Paquin pull down!
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,
Traditions 337
T h e green casque has outdone your elegance.
55
"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 70
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. 75
Here error is all in the not done,
all in the diffidence that faltered, ...
From Canto LXXXI
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 super-
annuation. 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 con-
cepts 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
338 Traditions Traditions 339
adapted for singing? Note the pure vowel sounds of lines 2-4 and the tions of the story by aligning himself with the ant and rebuking the
sound-sequences A-E-1-0 and I - 0 - U as though the alphabet of the craft "practical" men?
were being exhibited. "He" in line 7 is the candidate for admission to Blunt (line 72) is Wilfred Scawen Blunt ( 1 8 ~ ~ + 1 9 2 2 )British
, poet,
these aureate regions. diplomat, adventurer, and advocate of political morality. He was one of
Lines 18-19 are from Chaucer's "Merciles BeautC." Why does Pound the limited but honest elders whom the young Pound visited in London
choose this rather than any other fragment of Chaucer for quotation? about 1909 when he might have been celebrity hunting. Line 73 links
T h e "180 years" of line 20 is the gap between Chaucer and the first back with the musical analogies of lines 7-1 5; reference also to Pound's
Elizabethans. What has this gap to do with the theme of the passage? Provengal studies. T h e "fine old eye" of line 74 is that of William But-
Line 21 : "And listening to the gentle murmur." What is the connec- ler Yeats, from whom Pound learned the value of artistic intransigence.
tion between lines 18 and 227 Are the "eyes" in the tent no longer Is any of this information necessary to understanding the passage? Does
"merciles" (cf. line 26) in reward for forty years' devotion? "Diastasis" Blunt's name, for instance, convey enough of the meaning without gloss?
(line 28) is "a standing aloof, a separationJ'; it can refer both to "the Why does the passage end with a comma?
stance between the eyes" and their essential aloofness from the poet's T h e middle part of the passage may profitably be explored in terms of
concerns. "Eidos" (line 31) means "knowing." the contrast between the Elysium built in line 45 and the vanity to be
"Dross" (line 39) is scummed off the surface of molten gold. What demolished in lines 48-68.
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 defini-
tion; 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 in-
sects? 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 hu-
man 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 chat-
ters in imitation of the speech of more rational creatures.
Lines 47-55 renovate the preacher's advice to learn of the ant (Prw-
erbs 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-
nrvlnn Useful Books

Your college library abounds in books about literature which even special-
ists 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 con-
centration 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 in-
34 1

n n n m Useful Books

Your college- library abounds in books about literature which even special-
ists 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 con-
centration 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 in-
34 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.
nnnnn Index
T. S. Eliot, Selected Essays (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Com-
pany, 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." Subject Index
William Carlos Williams, Selected Essays (New York: Random
Author, Title, and First Line Index
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 learn-
ing criticism, more useful, happier or wiser.
-Samuel Johnson
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 nnnnn Author, Title,
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
and First Line Index
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 About suffering they were never wrong, zzz
Time when written, effect of on poems, 278-283 Accept, thou Shrine of my dead Saint, 222
Tone, 16-36 Adam lay Ibowndyn, 284
Triplet, 122 Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, 254
Truchaic rhythm, 77 Adonais (excerpt), 50
"After a Hundred Years", 2I 5
Useful Knowledge, I 80-181 Again let me do a lot of extraordinary talking, 264
Aged man, that mows these fields, 158
Values, I 92-2 I 8;in poem, not in poet's biography, 108 Ancestral Houses, 276
And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, I I 2
Wit, Eliot on, 271, 274 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, I 13

346 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 nnnnn Author, Title,
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
and First Line Index
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 About suffering they were never wrong, 222
Time when written, effect of on poems, 278-282 Accept, thou Shrine of my dead Saint, 222
Tone, 16-36 Adam lay Ibowndyn, 284
Triplet, 122 Adieu, farewell earth's bliss, 254
Trochaic rhythm, 77 Adonais (excerpt), 50
"After a Hundred Years", 215
Useful Knowledge, I 80-1 8 I Again let me do a lot of extraordinary talking, 264
Aged man, that mows these fields, 158
Values, 192-218;in poem, not in poet's biography, 108 Ancestral Houses, 276
And Arthur deign'd not use of word or sword, I I 2
Wit, Eliot on, 271, 274 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
348 Author, Title, and First Line lndex Author, Title, and First Line lndex 349

Ballad of Burdens, A , 99 CUMMINGS, E. E., 18, 2 0 7

Ballad upon a Wedding, A , 2 2 The Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day, 226
Before the barn-door crowing, 68
BELLOC, HILAIRE, 1 5 4 Dance, T h e , I 59
BINYON, LAURENCE, 192 Dance of the Macabre Mice, T h e , 54
From Bird-Witted, I I 5 DANTE, 1 9 2
Bishop Orders his T o m b , T h e , 201 Dark Angel, T h e , 8 I
BLAKE, WILLIAM, 6, 8, 53 Dark that W a s is Here, T h e , 74
BOLTON, EDMUND, 25 I Dazzled thus with height of place, 253
BOYD, MARX ALEXANDER, 2 4 6 Death of Ulysses, T h e , 1 9 2
BROWNING, ROBERT, 2 9 , 2 0 1 , 330 Decay, 1 4 2
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, 220
BURNS, ROBERT, 2 4 2 Demon Lover, T h e , I2 6
Busy old fool, unruly Sun, 2 8 DENHAM, SIR JOHN, 308
But he, though bad, is followed by a worse, 3 2 3 Descent, T h e , I 7 2
But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, 99 Descent beckons, the, 1 7 2
But that was nothing to what things came out, 1 6 9 Dialogue between the Soul and Body, A, 60
But though heav'n made him poor (with rev'rence speaking), 325 Dialogue Betwixt T i m e and a Pilgrim, A , I 58
By the road to the contagious hospital, 5 DICKINSON, EMILY, 9, 2 1 5
BYRON, GEORGE GORDON, LORD, 16, 17, 2 1 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
Cain, 26 Dry clash'd his harness on the icy caves, I I 2
CAMPBELL, ROY, I 2 2 DRYDEN, JOHN, 1 2 1 , 323, 325
CAMPION, THOMAS, 102, 104, 2 3 6 DUNBAR, WILLIAM, 91
Canto XIII, I 78 DUNCAN, RONALD, I 8 I , 2 8 5
Cape A n n , 3 I From Dunciad, T h e , 3 I 3, 3 I 5
CAREW, THOMAS, 107, I 38, 1 6 2 , 2 1 5, 2 4 4 Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows, 257
Carol, 285
CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS, 2 3 6
Eagle, T h e , 48
Character of Og, 3 2 5 Ears i n the Turrets Hear, 58
Character of the Scholar, 3 2 6 Elegy to the Memory of a n Unfortunate Lady, 309
Character of Shimei, 3 2 3 Elegy Written i n a Country Churchyard, A n . 2 2 6
Character of the Vicar, 3 2 7 ELIOT, T. s., 31, 51, 70, 7 2 , 83, 89, 2 0 4
CHAUCER, G E O F F W Y , 1 0 9 , 160, 3 3 1 England, 1 4 1
Children picking up our bones, I 4 3 Epistle to a Patron, A n , 42
Civilisation is hooped together, brought, 1 4 9 Epitaph o n a n Army of Mercenaries, 3 2
'A cold coming we had of it, 89 Epitaph on Elizabeth, L.H., 2 1 8
COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR, 78 Epitaph o n the Lady Mary Villers, 2 I 5
COLLINS, WILLIAM, I 68 ~ ; the
e season died-a-cold, 335
"Come Down, 0 Maid", 156 From Essay on Criticism, A n , I I 3
Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height, I 56 Exequy, T h e , 2 2 2
Come live with me and be my love, 2 8 9 Expiration, T h e , 78
Come, my Celia, let us prove, 2 3 5 Extasie, T h e , 247
Complaint of a Lover Rebuked, 80
From Cooper's Hill, 308 Farewell Love, and all thy Laws for ever, 146
COPLEY, PRANK o., 2 3 8 Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, 2 4 5
CRABBE, GEORGE, 327 Farewell, too little and too lately known, I 2 1
Crane, T h e , 40 Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, 2 9

348 Author, Title, and First Line lndex Author, Title, and First Line lndex 349
Ballad of Burdens, A , 99 CUMMINGS, B. E., 18, 2 0 7
Ballad upon a Wedding, A , 2 2 The Curfeu tolls the Knell of parting Day, 226
Before the barn-door crowing, 68
BELLOC, HILAIRE, I 5 4 Dance, T h e , I 59
BINYON, LAURENCE, 192 Dance of the Macabre Mice, T h e , 54
From Bird-Witted, I I 5 DANTE, 1 9 2
Bishop Orders his T o m b , T h e , 201 Dark Angel, T h e , 8 I
BLAKE, WILLIAM, 6, 8, 53 Dark that W a s is Here, T h e , 74
BOLTON, EDMUND, 2 5 I Dazzled thus with height of place, 253
BOYD, MARX ALEXANDER, 246 Death of Ulysses, T h e , 1 9 2
BROWNING, ROBERT, 2 9 , 2 0 1 , 330 Decay, 1 4 2
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, 220
BURNS, ROBERT, 2 4 2 Demon Lover, T h e , I26
Busy old fool, unruly Sun, 2 8 DENHAM, SIR JOHN, 308
But he, though bad, is followed by a worse, 3 2 3 Descent. T h e .. 1 ,7 2
But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, 99 Descent beckons, the, I 7 2
But that was nothing to what things came out, 1 6 9 Dialogue between the Soul and Body, A, 60
But though heav'n made him poor (with rev'rence speaking), 325 Dialogue Betwixt T i m e and a Pilgrim, A , I 58
By the road to the contagious hospital, 5 DICKINSON, EMILY, 9, 2 1 5
BYRON, GEORGE GORDON, LORD, 16, 17, 2 1 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
Cain, 26 Dry clash'd his harness on the icy caves, I 1 2
CAMPBELL, ROY, I 2 2 DRYDEN, JOHN, 1 2 1 , 323, 325
CAMPION, THOMAS, 102, 104, 2 3 6 DUNBAR, WILLIAM, 9 1
Canto XIII, I 78 DUNCAN, RONALD, I 8 I , 2 8 5
Cape A n n , 3 I From Dunciad, T h e , 3 I 3, 3 I 5
CAREW, THOMAS, 107, I 38, 1 6 2 , 2 1 5, 2 4 4 Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows, 257
Carol, 285
CATULLUS, GAIUS VALERIUS, 2 3 6
Eagle, T h e , 48
Character of Og, 3 2 5 Ears i n the Turrets Hear, 58
Character of the Scholar, 3 2 6 Elegy to the Memory of a n Unfortunate Lady, 309
Character of Shimei, 3 2 3 Elegy Written i n a Country Churchyard, A n . 2 2 6
Character of the Vicar, 3 2 7 ELIOT, T. s., 31, 51, 70, 7 2 , 83, 89, 2 0 4
CHAUCER, G E O F F W Y , 1 0 9 , 160, 33 1 England, 1 4 1
Children picking up our bones, I 4 3 Epistle to a Patron, A n , 42
Civilisation is hooped together, brought, I 4 9 Epitaph o n a n Army of Mercenaries, 3 2
'A cold coming we had of it, 89 Epitaph on Elizabeth, L.H., 2 1 8
COLERIDGE, SAMUEL TAYLOR, 78 Epitaph o n the Lady Mary Villers, 2 I 5
COLLINS, WILLIAM, I 68 Ere the season died a-cold, 335
"Come Down, 0 Maid", I 56 From Essay on Criticism, A n , I I 3
Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height, I 56 Exequy, T h e , 2 2 2
Come live with me and be my love, 2 8 9 Expiration, T h e , 78
Come, my Celia, let us prove, 2 3 5 Extasie, T h e , 247
Complaint of a Lover Rebuked, 80
From Cooper's Hill, 308 Farewell Love, and all thy Laws for ever, 146
COPLEY, PRANK o., 2 3 8 Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, 2 4 5
CRABBE, GEORGE, 327 Farewell, too little and too lately known, 1 2 1
Crane, T h e , 40 Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, 2 9
 Author, Title, and First Line Index Author, Title, and First Line Index 351
350
How the Money's Made, I 51
Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 167
How vainly men themselves amaze, 269
Fern Hill, 260
Field of Waterloo, The, 16
' I Am of Ireland', 96
Finale to The Dunchi, 315
I arise from dreams of thee, 35
Finale to Troilus and Criseyde, 33 I
I have of sorwe so gret woon, 109
Fish in the Unruffled Lakes, 253
I heard a bird at dawn, 82
Follow your Saint, 102
I hold the Fates bound fast in iron chains, 195
Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet, 102
I'll carry you off, 83
For Anne Gregory, 2
I'll gaze no more on her bewitching face, 162
Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin, 246
From 11 Penseroso., 60
Fragment of an Agon, 83 <

I made a posy, while the day ran by, 171

FROST, ROBERT, 41, 208
I said to her, darling, I said, 238
Full many a glorious morning have I Ken, 230
"I saw my Lady Weep", 106
Funeral, The, 63
I saw the spiders marching through the air, 62
Funeral Song, I 67
I stayed the night for shelter at a farm, 208
I Syng of a Mayden, 284
Garden, The, 269
I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, 22
GASCOIGNE, GEORGE, 19
I that in heill wes and gladnes, 91
GAY, JOHN, 68, 297
I wander thro' each charter'd street, 53
Ghost, The, 2 I 3
From The Idylls of the King, I I 2
A Girl, in ancient Greece, 74
Immortal Helix, I 32
Glory be to God for dappled things, 31
In a tissue-thin monotone of blue-gey buds, 136
Go, happy rose, and interwove, 103
In Breughel's great picture, the Kermess, I 59
Go, litel book, go, litel myn tragedye, 331
In the days of Prismatic Colour, 221
Go, lovely Rose, 104
In the land of turkeys in turkey weather, 54
Golfers, 33 In their congealed light, 171
Grave, A, 59 In time, the lagoon will be seen, 41
c u v a s , ROBERT, 169
Indeed indeed, 206
GRAY, THOMAS, 226
Ingrateful Beauty Threatened, 138
The greater horn of the ancient flame was stirred, 193
Indian Serenade, The, 35
Invocation to Paradise Lost, I 54
Had we but world enough, and time, 239
It fell upon a holy eve, 287
From Hamlet, 135
It little ~rofitsthat an idle king, 196
HARDY, THOMAS, 2 I3
H . D., 159
JOHNSON, SAMUEL, 281,326
H e clasps the crag with crooked hands, 48
JONSON, BEN, 218, 219, 235
Helen, thy beauty is to me, 109
Journey of the Magi, 89
Her Father's Ghortation to Juliet, 49
Jumblies, The, 94
HERBERT, GEORGE, 69, 142, 17 1
HERBERT OF CHERBURY, LORD, 157
Here is no water but only rock, 70
KING, HENRY, 222, 252
Here is the ancient floor, 213
King sits in Durnferling toune, the, 124
Here let thy clemency, Persephone, hold firm, 14
Know, Celia, (since thou art so proud,), 138
Hereunder Jacob Schmidt who, man and bones, 132
Kung walked, 178
HERRICX, ROBERT, 103, 108, 220
Hey Nanny No!, 256
From L'Allegro, 68
Hold, witless Lobbin Clout, I thee advix, 297
Lament, I 09
From Homage to Sextus Propertius, I 3, I 39
Lament for the Makatis, 91
HOPKINS, GERALD MANLEY, 3I, I 15
The land is a desert; nothing will grow there, I 8I
H O U S M A N , A. B., 32, 214
LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE, I 52, I 53, I 54
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!, 67
352 Author, Title, and First Line lndex Author, Title, and First Line lndex 353
"Never Seek to Tell thy Love", 8
LAYTON, IRVING,26, 33
Never shall a young man, 2
LEAR, EDWARD, 94
"The Nightingale, as soon as April Bringeth", 302
Let them remember Samangan, the bridge and tower, 120
Nine times the space that measures day and night, 20
LEWIS,WYNDHAM, 264
not in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam, 221
Life, 171
Nothing Gold can Stay, 41
Like as the waves make towards the pzbbled shore, 145
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs, 260
Like Sieur Montaign's distinction, 33
Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she, 304
Like to the falling of a star, 252
Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 274
Lily and the Rose, The, I Z I
Litany, in Time of Plague, 254
0 quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow, 31
London, 53
0 thou with dewy locks who lookest down, 6
The long love that in my heart doth harbour, 79
LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH, 194
"0 where have you been, my long, long love, 126
0 who shall, from this Dungeon, raise, 60
From The Lotos-Eaters, gg
0 wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, 262
Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought, 80
Ode, 120
Lover Compareth his State to a Ship in perilous Storm tossed on the Sea, The, 48
Ode to a Nightingale, 298
Lover Complayneth the Unkindnes of his Love, The, I 18
Ode to the West Wind, 262
Lover for Shamefastness hideth his Desire within his faithful Heart, The, 79
Of man's first Disobedience, and the Fruit, 154
LOWELL,ROBERT, 62
Of the miscellany, 1 2
Lucy Gray; or Solitude, 129, 134-5
Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray, 129
Lycidas, 291
On a huge hill, I 14
LYLY, JOHN, 301
On Fame, 17
On Some South African Novelists, 122
From Macbeth, 46
On the Death of Ianthe, I 53
MAC LEISH, ARCHIBALD, 132, 243
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, 177
The maidens came, I 21
On the Late Massacre in Piedmont, I 16
Man looking into the sea, 59
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee, 177
Manana, I 98
Or if the air will not permit, 69
MARLOWE, CHRISTOPHER, 195, 289, 304
Others abide our question. Thou art free., 57
MARVELL, ANDREW, 60, 239, 269
Merciles Beaute', 160
Palinode, A, 251
Mem, 149 Paradise Lost, Invocation to, I 54
MILTON,JOHN,20, 68, 69, I 16,I 54, 291
Paring the Apple, 138
MOORE, MARIANNE, 12, 18,59, I 15, 141, 221
The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, 289
More had she spoke, but yawned-all Nature nods, 315
"Past Ruin'd Ilion", I 52
The mourners stand around the bed, 81
Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, 152
Mr. Edwards and the Spider, 62
Patriotic Leading, A, 206
Muse'e des Beaux Arts, 222
Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her, II3
My eye, descending from the hill, surveys, 308
Pied Beauty, 3 I
My father used to say, 18
Poem on Lagoons, 41
My galley, charged with forgetfulness, 48
POE, EDGAR ALLAN, I I 0
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, 298
POPE,ALEXANDER, 113, 306, 309, 313, 315
My lord, hearing lately of your opulence in promises and your house, 42
Postcard from the Volcano, A, 143
My lute awake performe the last, I 18
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, 236 POUND, EZRA, 13, 14, 33, 139, 174, 178,335
Praise of Power, 195
Prayer for his Lady's Life, 14
NASHE, THOMAS, 254
From The Prelude, 257
Nature that fram'd us of four elements, 195
From Preludes, 51
Nature's first green is gold, 41
PRINCE, F. T., 42
"Neither awake . . .", 18
Progress of Beauty, The, 230
"Never More will the Wind", 159
 Author, Title, and First Line lndex 353
352 Author, Title, and First Line lndex
"Never Seek to Tell thy Love", 8
LAYTON,IRVING, 26, 33 Never shall a young man, 2
LEAR, Z D W A R D , 94
"The Nightingale, as soon as April Bringeth", 302
Let them remember Samangan, the bridge and tower, 120 Nine times the space that measures day and night, 20
L E W I S , W Y N D H A M , 264
not in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam, 221
Life, I 71 Nothing Gold can Stay, 41
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, 145 Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs, 260
Like Sieur Montaign's distinction, 33 Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she, 304
Like to the falling o f a star, 252 Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 274
Lily and the Rose, The, I 21
Litany, in Time of Plague, 254 0 quick quick quick, quick hear the song-sparrow, 31
London, 53 0 thou with dewy locks who lookest down, 6
T h e long love that in my heart doth harbour, 79
" 0 where have you been, my long, long love, 126
L O N G F E L L O W , HENRY W A D S W O R T H , 194
0 who shall, from this Dungeon, raise, 60
From T h e Lotos-Eaters, gg 0 wild West W i n d , thou breath o f Autumn's being, 262
Love, that liveth and reigneth in my thought, 80 Ode, 120
Lover Compareth his State to a Ship i n perilous Storm tossed on the Sea, The, 48 Ode to a Nightingale, 298
Lover Complayneth the Unkindnes of his Love, The, I I 8 Ode to the West W i n d , 262
Lover for Shamefastness hideth his Desire within his faithful Heart, The, 79 O f man's first Disobedience, and the Fruit, 154
L O W E L L , ROBERT, 62
O f the miscellany, 12
Lucy Gray; or Solitude, 129, 134-5 O f t had I heard o f Lucy Gray, 129
LycidaS, 29 I O n a huge hill, I 1 4
LYLY, J O H N , 301
O n Fame, I 7
O n Some South African Novelists, 122
From Macbeth, 46 O n the Death of Ianthe, I 53
MAC L E I S H , ARCHIBALD, 132, 243
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, I77
T h e maidens came, I 21 O n the Late Massacre in Piedmont, I 16
Man looking into the sea, 59 Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee, 177
Manana, 198 Or i f the air will not permit, 69
M A R L O W E , CHRISTOPHER, 195, 289, 304
Others abide our question. Thou art free., 57
MARVELL, ANDREW, 60, 239, 269
Merciles Beautk, I 60 Palinode, A , 251
M e w 149 Paradise Lost, Invocation to, I 54
M I L T O N , J O H N , 20, 68, 69, I 16,I 54, 291
Paring the Apple, 138
M O O R E , M A R I A N N E , 12, 18,59, 115, 141, 221
The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, 289
More had she spoke, but yawned-all Nature nods, 315 "Past Ruin'd Ilion", I 52
T h e mourners stand around the bed, 8 1
Past ruin'd Ilion Helen lives, 152
Mr. Edwards and the Spider, 62 Patriotic Leading, A , 206
Muse'e des Beaux Arts, 222 Persephone and Dis, Dis, have mercy upon her, II3
My eye, descending from the hill, surveys, 308 Pied Beauty, 3I
My father used to say, 18 Poem on Lagoons, 41
My galley, charged with forgetfulness, 48 POE, EDGAR ALLAN, I I 0
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, 298 P O P E , A L E X A N D E R , I 13,306, 309, 313, 31 5
My lord, hearing lately of your opulence in ~romisesand your house, 42
Postcard ftom the Volcano, A, 143
My lute awake performe the last, I 18
POUND, EZRA,13, 14, 33, 139, 174,178, 335
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, 236
Praise of Power, 195
Prayer for his Lady's Life, 1 4
NASHE, THOMAS, 254
From T h e Prelude, 257
Nature that fram'd us of four elements, 195 From Preludes, 5I
Nature's first green is gold, 41 PRINCE, P . T., 42
"Neither awake . . .", 18 Progress of Beauty, The, 230
"Never More will the Wind", I 59
354 Author, Title, and First Line lndex Author, Title, and First Une lndex 355

From T h e Prologue to Pericles, II

Spring and All, 5
Proqice, 29 Spring Strains, I 36
Stand close around, ye Stygian set, 154
Recreators, The, 335 Statue, The, I 54
Relique, The, 64
STEPHENS, JAMES,82
Renouncing of Love, A, 146
STEVENS, WALLACE, 54, I43
Rivals, The, 82
ROCHESTER,
JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF, 3 18 Still to be neat, still to be dressed, 219
"Rose-Cheek'd Laura, Come", I 04 Stone, bronze, stone, steel, stone, oakleaves, horses' heels, 204
Rose of Love, The, 107 "Stone, Steel, Dominions Pass", 214
Roundelay, 287 Stop! For thy tread is on an Empire's dust!, 16
Row us out from Desenzano, to your Sirmione row!, II1
Sun Rising, The, 28
Swan and the Cook, The, I2
Swearing and supperless the Hero sate, 3 I 3
Salt grass silent of hooves, the lake stinks, 52 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 69
Satan and Michael, 21 A sweet disorder in the dress, 220
Sweet were the days when thou didst lodge with Lot, 142
Satan in Hell, 2 0
From A Satire Against Mankind, 318 SWIFT, JONATHAN, 230
Swiftly walk o'er the western wave, 9
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 272
SWINBURNE, ALGERNON CHARLES, 99, 216
See! from the brake the whirring he as ant springs, 306
Self-Unseeing, The, 2 I 3 SUCKLING, SIR JOHN, 22
SHAKESPEARE, WILLIAM, 11, 46, 49, 55, 56, 57, 67, 1341 145, 167, 245, 250
Summer Night, 274
"She dwelt among the Untrodden Ways", 38 Surely among a rich man's flowering lawns, 276
SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE, 9, 35, 50, 262
SURREY, HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF, 80
From The Shepherd's Week, 297
SHIRLEY, JAMES, 279, 280 Taking the air rifle from my son's hand, 26
Short History of Texas, A, I 8 I "Tears, Idle Tears", 34
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, 34
Sic Vita, 252
TENNYSON, ALFRED LORD, 34, 48, 56, 99, I I I , I I 2, I 56, I 96, I 98, 274
SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP, 147, 148, 302
That insect, without antennae, over its, 40
SIEGEL, ELI, 41, 74
That time of year thou may'st in me behold, 145
Silence, 18
Simplex Munditiis, 1x9 There are portraits and still-lives, I 38
Sir Patrick Spence, I 24 "There died a Myriad", 33
"A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal", I 3 I There was a young lady of Lynn, 133
SLUMP,MAXIMILIAN, 81 These, in the day when heaven was falling, 32
So shall I live, supposing thou art true, 245 They went to sea in a Seive, they did, 94
So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, 78 1335. 3 lire 15 groats to stone for making a lion, 174
Sometimes with secure delight, 68 This little vault, this narrow room, 21 5
Song, A (Carew), 107 This song's to a girl, 285
Song (Waller), 104 THOMAS, DYLAN,58, 260
Song from a Play (Yeats), 65 Thi-ovgh Binoculars, I 7 I
Song from the Beggar's Opera, 68 'Tis not enough no harshness give offence, I 13
Song: Muraring Beautie, I 62 T o a Lady who did Sing Excellently, 157
From The Song of the Militant Romance, 264 T o Autumn, 272
Song: The Owl, 56 T o Celia, 23 5
Sonnet (Boyd), 246 T o fair Fidele's grassy tomb, 168
Sonnets (Shakespeare), 145, 245, 250 T o Helen, log
From Sordello, 330 T o His Coy Mistress, 239
SPENSER,EDMUND,107, 287 T o My lnconstant Mistress, 244
T h e spirits were in neutral space, before, 21 T o Night, g
T o the Dawn, that it Hasten Not, 304
356 Author, Title, and First Line lndex Author, Title, and First Line lndex 357
The whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay, 107
To the Memory of Mr. Oldham, 121
"Who knocks?" "I. who was beautiful., 21 2-
To the Rose, 103
Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm, 63
T o sing a song that old was sung, I I
To Spring, 6 WILLIAMS, WILLIAM CARLOS, 5 51, 136, 151, 159, 172
From Windsor Forest, 306
To Welcome in the Spring, 301
TOMLINSON, CHARLES, 40, 1 ~ 8 I71
, -
Winter., 56
T h e winter evening settles down, 51
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, 46
Witch of Coos, The, 208
TOWNSHEND, AURELIAN, I 58
With blackest moss the flower-pots, 198
Triumphal March, 204
With how sad steps, 0 Moon, thou climb'st the skies, 147
Trochee trips from long to short, 78
With innocent wide penguin eyes, three, I r 5
Troilus and Criseyde, Finale to, 331
. . . with its baby rivers and little towns, each with its abbey or its cathedral, 141
"With Rue my Heart is Laden", 214
Ulysses, 196
"Without Invention", 5 I
The unpurged images of day recede, 320
Without invention nothing is well spaced, 51
Upon the Sudden Restraint of the Earl of Somerset, then Falling from Favour, 253
Witness this army of such mass and charge, 135
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!, 201
A woman's beauty is like a white, 65
Venice (Pound), I 74 WORDSWORTH, WILLIAM, 38, 128, 131, 177, 257
Venice (Ruskin), I 76 WOTTON, SIR HENRY, 253
Vestiges, 52 Wouldst thou hear what man can say, 218
Violets, 108 WYATT, SIR THOMAS, 48, 79, I 18, 146
Virtue, 69
"Vivamus, Mea Lesbia . . ." (Copley), 238
Yet once more, 0 ye Laurels, and once more, 291
Vivamus, mea Lesbia, Atque Amemus (Campion), 236
"ygUDuh", 207
You, Andrew Marvell, 243
WALLER, EDMUND, 104
You gain the inmost chambers, gain at last, 330
From The Waste Land, 70, 72
You praise the firm rzstraint with which they wnte, 122
Welcome, maids of honour, 108
You that do search for every purling spring, 148
Well I remember how you smiled, 153
Your j;en two wol slee me sodenly, 160
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