'Lycidas' by John Milton
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In this Monody the author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately
drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637;
and, by occasion, foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy,
then in their height.
YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more,
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forced 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.
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Hence with denial vain and coy excuse:
So may some gentle Muse
With lucky words favour my destined urn,
And as he passes turn,
And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;
Together both, ere the high lawns appeared
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,
We drove a-field, and both together heard
What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn,
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright
Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel.
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute;
Tempered to the oaten flute,
Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel
From the glad sound would not be absent long;
And old Damoetas loved to hear our song.
But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone and never must return!
Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,
And all their echoes, mourn.
The willows, and the hazel copses green,
Shall now no more be seen
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.
As killing as the canker to the rose,
Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze,
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear,
When first the white-thorn blows;
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.
Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?
For neither were ye playing on the steep
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.
Ay me! I fondly dream
RHad ye been there,S . . . for what could that have done?
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
The Muse herself, for her enchanting son,
Whom universal nature did lament,
When, by the rout that made the hideous roar,
His gory visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Alas! what boots it with uncessant care
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights and live laborious days;
But, the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life. RBut not the praise,"
Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears:
RFame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies,
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed."
O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood,
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds,
That strain I heard was of a higher mood.
But now my oat proceeds,
And listens to the Herald of the Sea,
That came in Neptune's plea.
He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?
And questioned 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 strayed:
The air was calm, and on the level brine
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark,
Built in the eclipse, and rigged 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 inscribed with woe.
Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, Rmy dearest pledge?"
Last came, and last did go,
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake;
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain.
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:--
RHow well could I have spared for thee, young swain,
Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake,
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold!
Of other care they little reckoning make
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are sped:
And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;
The 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 wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said.
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 bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet,
The glowing violet,
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine,
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
And every flower that sad embroidery wears;
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed,
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
To strew the laureate hearse 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'er thy bones are hurled;
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 denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old,
Where the great Vision of the guarded mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold.
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth:
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves,
Where, other groves and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial 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
To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills,
While the still morn went out with sandals grey:
He touched the tender stops of various quills,
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay:
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills,
And now was dropt into the western bay.
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:
Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
Editor 1 Interpretation
Lycidas: An Ode to the Lost
John Milton’s Lycidas is a classic poem that manages to capture the essence of grief and loss in a way that still resonates with readers more than three centuries after its publication. This ode to the memory of Edward King, a fellow Cambridge scholar who drowned at a young age, is a powerful tribute to a life that was cut short. Through its rich imagery, complex structure, and evocative language, Lycidas explores the themes of mortality, nature, and the search for meaning in the face of tragedy.
The Poetics of Grief
At its core, Lycidas is a poem about mourning. Milton’s elegy for his friend is a deeply personal and emotional work, but it is also a masterful example of poetic craft. The poem’s structure, which combines elements of elegy, pastoral, and epic, is a testament to Milton’s ability to synthesize different genres and create something truly original.
The opening lines of Lycidas set the tone for the rest of the poem:
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forced fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
These lines are an invocation to the natural world, a plea for solace in the face of loss. The repetition of “once more” underscores the cyclical nature of life and death, while the image of plucking berries and shattering leaves suggests a violent disruption of the natural order.
As the poem progresses, Milton weaves together a series of mythological allusions, pastoral landscapes, and elegiac laments. The imagery of shepherds, nymphs, and satyrs creates a sense of idyllic beauty, but it is also tinged with sadness and loss. The speaker of the poem, identified as a shepherd, mourns the passing of a fellow shepherd, Lycidas, who has drowned at sea.
Alas! what boots it with uncessant care
To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?
Here, the speaker reflects on the futility of his own creative pursuits in the face of death. The contrast between the “homely slighted shepherd’s trade” and the pleasures of love and beauty underscores the fragility of human aspirations in the face of mortality.
Nature and the Search for Meaning
One of the most striking aspects of Lycidas is its use of natural imagery. Milton draws on a wide range of pastoral motifs, from the “dewy-feathered sleep” of the shepherd to the “water-lilies, that root in the watery glebe” of the river. The poem is full of vivid descriptions of the natural world, which serve as a counterpoint to the speaker’s grief and despair.
At the same time, however, the poem suggests that nature itself can offer a kind of solace or meaning in the face of loss. The final lines of the poem, which describe Lycidas’s transformation into a water-nymph, suggest a kind of transcendent unity with the natural world:
And weep ye now, sad friends of truth, for him
Who, heavily sleeps beneath the moving wave,
The solemn oak-tree sighs at the mournful strain;
The warbling waters mourn;
Winds of the North, resume your savage sway;
And the dim stars, scarce twinkling in the skies,
Shall deeply feel their kindred sympathies.
These lines suggest that Lycidas’s death is not an end, but a transformation. The speaker’s grief is subsumed into the larger rhythms of the natural world, which continue to move and change in spite of individual loss.
A Poem for All Time
Despite its historical and cultural specificity, Lycidas continues to resonate with readers today. Its themes of grief, loss, and the search for meaning are universal, and its language and imagery remain powerful and evocative.
One reason for the poem’s enduring popularity is its complexity and ambiguity. Milton’s use of multiple genres, allusions, and metaphors creates a richly layered work that rewards close reading and interpretation. The poem’s status as an elegy, pastoral, and epic all at once invites a range of readings and perspectives.
At the same time, however, Lycidas is also a deeply personal work that reflects Milton’s own experiences and beliefs. The poem’s invocation of the natural world, its exploration of the themes of mortality and transcendence, and its elegiac tone all suggest a deeply-held spirituality and sense of purpose.
In the end, Lycidas is a poem that speaks to the human experience of grief and loss, but also to our capacity for resilience and transcendence. Its enduring popularity is a testament to its power and beauty, and a reminder of the enduring importance of literature and poetry in our lives.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
Lycidas: A Masterpiece of Elegy by John Milton
John Milton, one of the greatest poets of the English language, wrote Lycidas in 1637 as an elegy for his friend Edward King, who drowned in the Irish Sea. The poem is a masterpiece of elegiac poetry, a genre that mourns the loss of a loved one and celebrates their life. Lycidas is a complex and multi-layered poem that explores themes of mortality, nature, and the role of the poet in society. In this analysis, we will delve into the structure, language, and themes of Lycidas to understand why it is considered one of the greatest poems in English literature.
Structure
Lycidas is a pastoral elegy, a form of poetry that celebrates the beauty of nature and rural life. The poem is divided into three parts: the prologue, the elegy proper, and the epilogue. The prologue sets the scene and introduces the main characters, while the elegy proper mourns the loss of Lycidas and reflects on the nature of life and death. The epilogue is a call to action for the poet to take up the mantle of Lycidas and continue his legacy.
The poem is written in a variety of meters, including iambic pentameter, tetrameter, and trimeter. This gives the poem a musical quality and allows Milton to vary the pace and tone of the poem. The poem also contains numerous allusions to classical mythology and literature, which adds depth and complexity to the poem.
Language
Milton's use of language in Lycidas is masterful. He employs a range of poetic devices, including alliteration, assonance, and metaphor, to create a rich and evocative language. For example, in the opening lines of the poem, Milton uses alliteration to create a sense of movement and energy:
"Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,"
The repetition of the "o" sound in "once more" and "myrtles" creates a sense of urgency and excitement. The use of the word "never sere" to describe the ivy creates a sense of eternal life and vitality.
Milton also uses metaphor to explore the themes of the poem. For example, in the lines:
"Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves, With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,"
Milton compares Lycidas to a shepherd, a traditional symbol of pastoral life. The use of the words "woods" and "desert caves" creates a sense of wilderness and isolation, while the "wild thyme" and "gadding vine" suggest a sense of freedom and wildness.
Themes
The themes of Lycidas are complex and multi-layered. At its core, the poem is a meditation on mortality and the transience of life. Milton reflects on the fragility of human life and the inevitability of death. He also explores the idea of rebirth and renewal, suggesting that death is not the end but a transition to a new form of life.
Another important theme of the poem is the role of the poet in society. Milton suggests that the poet has a responsibility to use their art to inspire and uplift their audience. He also suggests that the poet has a duty to speak out against injustice and tyranny. This is reflected in the lines:
"New presbyter is but old priest writ large."
Here, Milton is criticizing the Puritan government of his time, suggesting that they are no different from the old Catholic priests they replaced.
Finally, Lycidas is a celebration of nature and rural life. Milton uses the pastoral setting to create a sense of peace and tranquility, suggesting that nature has the power to heal and restore the human spirit. He also celebrates the beauty of rural life, suggesting that it is a simpler and more authentic way of living.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Lycidas is a masterpiece of elegiac poetry that explores themes of mortality, nature, and the role of the poet in society. Milton's use of language and poetic devices creates a rich and evocative language that captures the beauty and complexity of life. The poem is a meditation on the transience of life and the power of art to inspire and uplift the human spirit. It is a testament to the enduring power of poetry and the human capacity for creativity and expression.
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