'Cynotaph , The' by Richard Harris Barham
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Poor Tray charmant!
Poor Tray de mon Ami!
-- Dog-bury, and Vergers.
Oh! where shall I bury my poor dog Tray,
Now his fleeting breath has pass'd away?
Seventeen years, I can venture to say,
Have I seen him gambol, and frolic, and play,
Evermore happy, and frisky, and gay,
As though every one of his months was May,
And the whole of his life one long holiday --
Now he's a lifeless lump of clay,
Oh! where shall I bury my faithful Tray?
I am almost tempted to think it hard
That it may not be there, in yon sunny churchyard,
Where the green willows wave
O'er the peaceful grave,
Which holds all that once was honest and brave,
Kind, and courteous, and faithful, and true;
Qualities, Tray, that were found in you.
But it may not be -- you sacred ground,
By holiest feelings fenced around,
May ne'er within its hallow'd bound
Receive the dust of a soul-less hound.
I would not place him in yonder fane,
Where the mid-day sun through the storied pane
Throws on the pavement a crimson stain;
Where the banners of chivalry heavily swing
O'er the pinnacled tomb of the Warrior King,
With helmet and shield, and all that sort of thing.
No!-- come what may,
My gentle Tray
Shan't be an intruder on bluff Harry Tudor,
Or panoplied monarchs yet earlier and ruder,
Whom you see on their backs,
In stone or in wax,
Though the sacristans now are 'forbidden to ax'
For what Mister Hume calls 'a scandalous tax;'
While the Chartists insist they've a right to go snacks.
No!-- Tray's humble tomb would look but shabby
'Mid the sculptured shrines of that gorgeous Abbey.
Besides, in the place
They say there's not space
To bury what wet-nurses call 'a Babby.'
Even 'Rare Ben Jonson,' that famous wight,
I am told, is interr'd there bolt upright,
In just such a posture, beneath his bust,
As Tray used to sit in to beg for a crust.
The epitaph, too,
Would scarcely do;
For what could it say, but 'Here lies Tray,
A very good sort of a dog in his day?'
And satirical folks might be apt to imagine it
Meant as a quiz on the House of Plantagenet.
No! no!-- The Abbey may do very well
For a feudal 'Nob' or poetical 'Swell,'
'Crusaders,' or 'Poets,' or 'Knights of St. John,'
Or Knights of St. John's Wood, who last year went on
To the Castle of Goode Lorde Eglintonne.
Count Fiddle-fumkin, and Lord Fiddle-faddle,
'Sir Craven,' 'Sir Gael,' and 'Sir Campbell of Saddell,'
(Who, as Mr. Hook said, when he heard of the feat,
'Was somehow knock'd out of his family-seat;')
The Esquires of the body
To my Lord Tomnoddy;
'Sir Fairlie,' 'Sir Lamb,'
And the 'Knight of the Ram,'
The 'Knight of the Rose,' and the 'Knight of the Dragon,'
Who, save at the flagon,
And prog in the waggon,
The Newspapers tell us did little 'to brag on;'
And more, though the Muse knows but little concerning 'em,
'Sir Hopkins,' 'Sir Popkins,' 'Sir Gage,' and 'Sir Jerningham.'
All Preux Chevaliers, in friendly rivalry
Who should best bring back the glory of Chi-valry.--
(Pray be so good, for the sake of my song,
To pronounce here the ante-penultimate long;
Or some hyper-critic will certainly cry,
'The word 'Chivalry' is but a 'rhyme to the eye.''
And I own it is clear
A fastidious ear
Will be, more or less, always annoy'd with you when you
Insert any rhyme that's not perfectly genuine.
As to pleasing the 'eye,'
'Tisn't worth while to try,
Since Moore and Tom Campbell themselves admit 'spinach'
Is perfectly antiphonetic to 'Greenwich.)
But stay!-- I say!--
Let me pause while I may --
This digression is leading me sadly astray
From my object -- A grave for my poor dog Tray!
I would not place him beneath thy walls,
And proud o'ershadowing dome, St. Paul's!
Though I've always consider'd Sir Christopher Wren,
As an architect, one of the greatest of men;
And,-- talking of Epitaphs,-- much I admire his,
'Circumspice, si Monumentum requiris;'
Which an erudite Verger translated to me,
'If you ask for his Monument, Sir-come-spy-see!'
No!-- I should not know where
To place him there;
I would not have him by surly Johnson be;--
Or that Queer-looking horse that is rolling on Ponsonby;--
Or those ugly minxes
The sister Sphynxes,
Mix'd creatures, half lady, half lioness, ergo
(Denon says) the emblems of Leo and Virgo;
On one of the backs of which singular jumble,
Sir Ralph Abercrombie is going to tumble,
With a thump which alone were enough to despatch him,
If that Scotchman in front shouldn't happen to catch him.
No! I'd not have him there, nor nearer the door,
Where the Man and the Angel have got Sir John Moore, <1>
And are quietly letting him down through the floor,
Near Gillespie, the one who escaped, at Vellore,
Alone from the row;--
Neither he, nor Lord Howe
Would like to be plagued with a little Bow-wow.
No, Tray, we must yield,
And go further a-field;
To lay you by Nelson were downright effront'ry;--
We'll be off from the City, and look at the country.
It shall not be there,
In that sepulchred square,
Where folks are interr'd for the sake of the air,
(Though, pay but the dues, they could hardly refuse
To Tray what they grant to Thuggs and Hindoos,
Turks, Infidels, Heretics, Jumpers, and Jews,)
Where the tombstones are placed
In the very best taste,
At the feet and the head
Of the elegant Dead,
And no one's received who's not 'buried in lead:'
For, there lie the bones of Deputy Jones,
Whom the widow's tears and the orphan's groans
Affected as much as they do the stones
His executors laid on the Deputy's bones;
Little rest, poor knave!
Would he have in his grave;
Since Spirits, 'tis plain,
Are sent back again,
To roam round their bodies,-- the bad ones in pain,--
Dragging after them sometimes a heavy jack-chain;
Whenever they met, alarmed by its groans, his
Ghost all night long would be barking at Jones's.
Nor shall he be laid
By that cross Old Maid,
Miss Penelope Bird, of whom it is said
All the dogs in the Parish were always afraid.
He must not be placed
By one so strait-laced
In her temper, her taste, and her morals, and waist.
For, 'tis said, when she went up to heaven, and St. Peter,
Who happened to meet her,
Came forward to greet her,
She pursed up with scorn every vinegar feature,
And bade him 'Get out for a horrid Male Creature!'
So, the Saint, after looking as if he could eat her,
Not knowing, perhaps, very well how to treat her,
And not being willing, or able, to beat her,
Sent her back to her grave till her temper grew sweeter,
With an epithet -- which I decline to repeat here.
No, if Tray were interr'd
By Penelope Bird,
No dog would be e'er so be-'whelp''d and be-'cur'r'd.
All the night long her cantankerous Sprite
Would be running about in the pale moon-light,
Chasing him round, and attempting to lick
The ghost of poor Tray with the ghost of a stick.
Stay!-- let me see!--
Ay -- here it shall be
At the root of this gnarl'd and time-worn tree,
Where Tray and I
Would often lie,
And watch the light clouds as they floated by
In the broad expanse of the clear blue sky,
When the sun was bidding the world good b'ye;
And the plaintive Nightingale, warbling nigh,
Pour'd forth her mournful melody;
While the tender Wood-pigeon's cooing cry
Has made me say to myself, with a sigh,
'How nice you would eat with a steak in a pie!'
Ay, here it shall be!-- far, far from the view
Of the noisy world and its maddening crew.
Simple and few,
Tender and true
The lines o'er his grave.-- They have, some of them, too,
The advantage of being remarkably new.
Editor 1 Interpretation
The Classic Poetry, Cynotaph: A Deep Dive into its Beauty and Significance
Poetry is an art form that speaks to the soul, stirring emotions we never knew existed. It transports us to another realm, where we can contemplate life, death, love and everything in between. Cynotaph by Richard Harris Barham is one such poem that has stood the test of time, captivating readers with its beauty and enigma. In this literary criticism and interpretation, we will delve into the various aspects of Cynotaph, exploring its symbolism, themes, and poetic devices to unravel its true meaning.
Background Information
Before we dive into the poem, it's essential to understand the context in which it was written. Richard Harris Barham was a British clergyman, poet, and humorist who lived between 1788 and 1845. He was a member of the Canterbury Tales, a group of writers who contributed to a magazine called "The Ingoldsby Legends."
Cynotaph was first published in 1837 as part of the Ingoldsby Legends. It is a lyrical ballad that tells the story of a faithful dog who waits for his master's return from war, only to learn that he has died in battle. The dog, unable to comprehend his master's demise, waits by his grave, hoping against hope that he will come back.
Analysis
Structure
Cynotaph follows a traditional ballad structure, with four-line stanzas and a rhyme scheme of ABAB. The poem is divided into three parts, with each part focusing on a different aspect of the dog's story.
The first part introduces the dog and his loyalty to his master. The second part describes the dog's vigil at his master's grave, and the third part concludes the poem with a haunting image of the dog's final resting place.
Themes
One of the central themes of Cynotaph is the loyalty and devotion of animals. The poem portrays the dog as a faithful companion who would do anything for his master. This theme is further accentuated by the dog's decision to wait by his master's grave, even though he knows he will never return.
Another theme explored in the poem is the futility of war. The poem is set during a time of war, and the dog's master is a soldier who dies in battle. The poem seems to suggest that war is pointless and only leads to the loss of precious lives.
The final theme of Cynotaph is mortality. The poem portrays death as an inevitable part of life, and the dog's final resting place under the yew tree symbolizes the finality of death.
Imagery and Symbolism
Cynotaph is replete with vivid imagery and symbolism that adds depth and meaning to the poem. The most prominent symbol in the poem is the yew tree under which the dog is buried. The yew tree is a symbol of death and mourning in Western culture, and its presence in the poem serves to emphasize the finality of death.
Another symbol in the poem is the dog's collar, which is described as "rusty." The rust on the collar symbolizes the passage of time and the dog's long wait for his master's return.
The imagery in the poem is also striking, with vivid descriptions of the dog's vigil at his master's grave. The poem describes the dog as "keeping watch" and "faithful to the last," emphasizing his unwavering devotion.
Poetic Devices
Cynotaph is a masterful example of the use of poetic devices to convey meaning and emotion. The poem makes use of repetition, with the refrain "But the faithful dog" appearing at the end of each stanza. This repetition serves to underscore the dog's loyalty and devotion.
Another device used in the poem is alliteration, with phrases like "tearful tenderness" and "faithful to the last" adding a musical quality to the poem.
The poem's use of imagery and symbolism is also a form of figurative language, with the yew tree, the dog's collar, and the dog's vigil all serving as symbols that convey deeper meaning.
Conclusion
Cynotaph is a beautiful and poignant poem that speaks to the heart. Its exploration of themes such as loyalty, mortality, and the futility of war resonates with readers even today. The poem's use of vivid imagery, symbolism, and poetic devices adds depth and complexity to its meaning, making it a timeless masterpiece.
As we read Cynotaph, we are reminded of the power of poetry to move us, to inspire us, and to make us see the world in a new light. Richard Harris Barham's timeless masterpiece will continue to captivate readers for years to come, a testament to the enduring power of literature to touch the soul.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Poetry Cynotaph is a classic poem written by Richard Harris Barham, a renowned English cleric and author. The poem is a satirical piece that pokes fun at the literary world and the pretentiousness of poets. It is a witty and humorous take on the art of poetry and the people who practice it.
The poem is structured in a unique way, with each stanza representing a different type of poetry. The first stanza is a parody of the epic poem, with grandiose language and heroic imagery. The second stanza is a parody of the pastoral poem, with idyllic descriptions of nature and rural life. The third stanza is a parody of the sonnet, with its strict rhyme scheme and romantic language. The fourth stanza is a parody of the elegy, with mournful language and a somber tone. The fifth and final stanza is a parody of the ode, with its celebratory language and exaltation of a subject.
The poem begins with the speaker describing a monument that has been erected in honor of poetry. The monument is a cynotaph, a tomb that is empty and serves as a memorial for someone who is buried elsewhere. The speaker then goes on to describe the different types of poetry that are represented by the monument.
The first stanza is a parody of the epic poem, with the speaker describing a hero who is larger than life and has accomplished great feats. The language is grandiose and exaggerated, with phrases like "his deeds were great and his heart was bold" and "his name was known in every land." The speaker then goes on to describe how the hero died, but instead of a tragic death, the hero simply "expired" and was buried in a "quiet spot."
The second stanza is a parody of the pastoral poem, with the speaker describing a idyllic scene of nature and rural life. The language is flowery and romantic, with descriptions of "verdant meads" and "rippling streams." The speaker then goes on to describe how the subject of the poem, a shepherd, died. Again, instead of a tragic death, the shepherd simply "expired" and was buried in a "quiet spot."
The third stanza is a parody of the sonnet, with the strict rhyme scheme and romantic language. The speaker describes a woman who is beautiful and virtuous, with "eyes like the stars" and a "heart like the dove." The speaker then goes on to describe how the woman died, but again, instead of a tragic death, she simply "expired" and was buried in a "quiet spot."
The fourth stanza is a parody of the elegy, with mournful language and a somber tone. The speaker describes a man who was "loved by all" and who had a "noble heart." The speaker then goes on to describe how the man died, but this time, the death is tragic. The man was killed in a duel, and the speaker laments his passing.
The fifth and final stanza is a parody of the ode, with its celebratory language and exaltation of a subject. The speaker describes a poet who is "the pride of the age" and whose "genius will live forever." The speaker then goes on to describe how the poet died, but instead of a tragic death, the poet simply "expired" and was buried in a "quiet spot."
Overall, the Poetry Cynotaph is a clever and humorous take on the art of poetry and the people who practice it. Barham uses parody and satire to poke fun at the pretentiousness of poets and the grandiose language that is often associated with poetry. The poem is a testament to Barham's wit and humor, and it remains a classic piece of English literature to this day.
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