Say, lazy Muse, how about a ryme?
Something to feed my starved stock and store.
Hey, you've had an awfully long time,
And my youth is near to the care-home's door.
Pope by a dozen was turning Ancients plenty;
Milton gloryous writing by one-and-twenty;
White left us wonders and dyed that same age;
And Thomas by seventeen did ars'nic engage.
Pray your way, caged muse! that the Almighty
Will by earth quaking burst open your jail!
Let the doors be oped, and the bands loos'd rightly;
The Judges will let you breathe free the vale!
Geniuses of time past, wait up for me!
"Oh, be my Nine," is ever my plea.
My age slips away with atchievements unhad,
My caged, lazy Muse is a sight sad.
Replace the sloth-possest wretch who's mused me;
Let her infest pigs and attempt to swim sea.
Bring up the descriptive power of Steve Hawes,
The festive earnest of olde George Wither!
How 'bout an hundred decrepit spelling flawes,
And bring the charm of Johnson and Mundy hither?
De Coucy, de Borne, and Vogelweide ancient,
Sung to the Crusaders in the hot desert sun;
Through all months and seasons I've been patient,
And still nothing like theirs could I ever have done.
With the help of these immortals, maybe I will
Be able to summit Parnassus hill.
THE ATTEMPT.
After torrents of rain that crumbled the earth,
And hundred k. winds that blew it all away,
Snowflakes spell-binding by Chione fell
And covered the ground, world changing.
Twigs, like downy deer horns, protrude,
And shake and shed when overborne.
The micro valleys of crystalized rain,
Veiled under Erebus, yet lumine bright
As if blushing by the beauty of high Selene.
And in the sunny blue sky of noon, the white
Reflects and sparkles the more, and gleams
Like a knight's burnished coat of steel.
Blinding beauty glads the eye in air arctic.
Chinks in the mail are patched with frost
In the forest light once mint, nigh blanc.
And in the dread quiet of the oaken cavern,
Echoes of Tudor horns haunt my ear,
Reminiscing on winters past portrayed.
Now on to evening as Nyktos whispers
Her plaints soft in her husband's ear.
Snowy mountains reflect the deepening purple,
Beneath mists of pink and yellow wreathed around;
Pine trees by the passes and hills all surrounding
Strong scent the winds with Christmas delight.
Let the Mass begin of the Saviour's coming,
For this is the month, and this the happy Eve!
Let the angel come forth with a fuming censer,
And incense and penitence mingle in offer.
Lord God, the creator of Heaven and Earth,
Consider us in our unimportance.
Author notes
The poets mentioned, Alexander Pope, John Milton, Henry Kirke White (who studied to death by 21), "Thomas" is Thomas Chatterton (who committed suicide by arsenic), Steve Hawes / Stephen Hawes, George Wither, Samuel Johnson, F.N.C. Mundy, Raoul de Coucy, Bertrand de Borne, Walther von der Vogelweide, all are listed with poems on Oldpoetry.
The 3rd stanza is in allusion to the book of ACTS, chapers 16,17. Paul is imprisoned, and in jail prays and rejoices; then there is an earthquake which bursts open every jail cell and breaks off every fetter. Because he stayed, he was let free by the magistrates, and in the next chapter preached on the hill of Mars in Athens, to the philosophers there.
'Oh, be my Nine': Referring to the 9 Muses of Greek mythology.
'Let her infest pigs and...': In allusion to the book of MARK, chapter 5., where Jesus exorcises a man who's filled with so many demons that they call themselves Legion. Jesus sent the demons into a herd of swine, which herd in consequence ran off a cliff and into the sea and drown.
Parnassus: A mountain in central Greece where the Muses lived; known as the mythological home of music and poetry.
Chione : The goddess of Snow.
Erebus : The god of Night.
Selene : The goddess of the Moon.
Nyktos : Erebus' consort, who in love of darkness, persuades him to veil the earth in night.
"Echoes of Tudor horns...": Tudor horn music is one of my favourites, and it seems somehow to bring up images of snow and forests, no matter what season it is.
"Lord God, the creator of Heaven and Earth ..." : These last two lines are culled from Tallis' famous Elizabethan 40-part Motet, Spem In Alium, composed ca. 1570. The last line has also been translated from the original Latin as, "look upon our lowliness." There are 8 choirs of 5 singers each, set around the room; and each person is given his individual part as they all sing simultaneously. It's regarded as quite difficult to perform, but whether heavenly performed or not, the effect of it is stunning; particularly the ending, which is about as glorious as anything in music up to that time, contrasted to the words 'look upon our lowliness' on the last angelically blaring note.
I've used these two lines as a prayer, as any Gloria Patri, etc. The actual last lyrics are these:--
"Creator coeli et terrae
respice humilitatem nostram"
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
-
Excellent Writing
I LEARN from reading you.
I LIKE the way you don't have consistent rhyme patterns. I do the same thing when structure interferes with meaning.
------------
-
-
Thank you! I think that's the best comment I've ever received, that someone learns from reading my work. It's nice to know that all the millions of hours of reading I do aren't a total loss
-
-
Grand!
The plea of the opening Stanzas would alone have made this worth reading Your opening line is one we have all uttered in our own way at one time or another.
You then show by your second section that you are well able to climb Parnassus Hill. The mixture of modern and aged terminology is well done.
Then to cap it all your notes provide a fine educational boost for us lesser mortals.
Well Done Sir!
-
-
Thank you very much! I guess I can tolerate the poem now. This actually started as two separate woeful attempts, first with a poor winter poem, then my frustration came out. Reading Milton so much lately gave me the idea of combining them similarly to the ancient Greek format; and showing off a little learning as a crutch. The old language is just an unconscious flowing that I hardly notice. Thanks again! I really needed that encouragement.
-
-
Reading all of those dusty, glorious books has paid off Greg. The Lazy Muse: first of all I have to say I did smile as you compared yourself to the poets which you felt had 'achieved' so much in their early years - look at what you do~~~
'The Attempt' your language skills are exceptional, one might think they were reading a very 'old' poem by the word use alone.
Your author notes are a necessary addition which helped me and I'm sure others in time to understand some of the nuances of the old language.
Thanks for telling me about this. I've enjoyed my visit.
Von
Adding your comment:
1 - 5 of 5
