In celebration of the UN World Poetry Day, March 21
Dr Abe V Rotor
Living with Nature - School on Blog [avrotor.blogspot.com]
Lesson on former Paaralang Bayan sa Himpapawid (People's School-on-Air) with Ms Melly C Tenorio 738 DZRB AM, [www.pbs.gov.ph] 8-9 evening class Monday to Friday
Revival
of classical poetry known for its rhyme-rhythm-meter unity and harmony
requires some models for young poets and enthusiasts. Among the poems
recommended are Thomas Gray's Elegy, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Psalm of life and Ella Wilcox's The Way of the World.
The last two poems can be accessed in this Blog. Search name of poet or his work. (AVR)
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard is a poem by Thomas Gray,
completed in 1750 and first published in 1751. The poem’s origins are unknown,
but it was partly inspired by Gray’s thoughts following the death of the poet
Richard West in 1742.
Originally titled Stanza's
Wrote in a Country Church-Yard, the poem was completed when Gray was living
near St Giles' parish church at Stoke Poges.
It was sent to his friend Horace Walpole, who popularised the poem
among London literary circles. Gray was eventually forced to publish the work
on 15 February 1751, to pre-empt a magazine publisher from printing an
unlicensed copy of the poem.
The poem is an elegy in name but not in form;
it employs a style similar to that of contemporary odes, but it embodies a
meditation on death, and remembrance
after death. The poem argues that the
remembrance can be good and bad, and the narrator finds comfort in pondering
the lives of the obscure rustics buried in the churchyard. The two versions of
the poem, Stanzas and Elegy, approach death
differently; the first contains a stoic response to death, but the final
version contains an epitaph which serves to repress the narrator's fear of
dying. With its discussion of, and focus on, the obscure and the known, the
poem has possible political ramifications, but it does not make any definite claims
on politics to be more universal in its approach to life and death.
Hologram of a page from a final copy in Gray's own handwriting.
The poem quickly became
popular. It was printed many times, translated into many languages, and praised
by critics even after Gray's other poetry had fallen out of favour. Later
critics tended to praise its language and universal aspects, but some felt the
ending was unconvincing, failing to resolve the questions the poem raised; or
that the poem did not do enough to present a political statement that would
serve to help the obscure rustic poor who form its central image.(Wikipedia)
----------------------------------------------------------------
The key stanza:
Full many a gem of
purest ray serene,
The dark unfathom'd
caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flow'r is
born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness
on the desert air.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY
CHURCHYARD"
1 The
curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
2 The
lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
3 The
ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
4 And
leaves the world to darkness and to me.
5 Now
fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
6 And
all the air a solemn stillness holds,
7 Save
where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
8 And
drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;
9 Save
that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
10 The
moping owl does to the moon complain
11 Of
such, as wandering near her secret bower,
12
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
13
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
14
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
15 Each
in his narrow cell for ever laid,
16 The
rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
17 The
breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
18 The
swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
19 The
cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
20 No
more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
21 For
them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
22 Or
busy housewife ply her evening care:
23 No
children run to lisp their sire's return,
24 Or
climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
25 Oft
did the harvest to their sickle yield,
26
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
27 How
jocund did they drive their team afield!
28 How
bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
29 Let
not Ambition mock their useful toil,
30
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
31 Nor
Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile,
32 The
short and simple annals of the poor.
33 The
boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
34 And
all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
35
Awaits alike the inevitable hour.
36 The
paths of glory lead but to the grave.
37 Nor
you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault,
38 If
Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
39
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
40 The
pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
41 Can
storied urn or animated bust
42 Back
to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
43 Can
Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
44 Or
Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?
45
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
46 Some
heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
47
Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed,
48 Or
waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
49 But
Knowledge to their eyes her ample page
50 Rich
with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll;
51
Chill Penury repressed their noble rage,
52 And
froze the genial current of the soul.
53 Full
many a gem of purest ray serene,
54 The
dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
55 Full
many a flower is born to blush unseen,
56 And
waste its sweetness on the desert air.
57 Some
village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
58 The
little tyrant of his fields withstood;
59 Some
mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
60 Some
Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
61 The
applause of listening senates to command,
62 The
threats of pain and ruin to despise,
63 To
scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
64 And
read their history in a nation's eyes,
65
Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone
66
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
67
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
68 And
shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
69 The
struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
70 To
quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
71 Or
heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
72 With
incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
73 Far
from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
74
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
75
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
76 They
kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
77 Yet
even these bones from insult to protect
78 Some
frail memorial still erected nigh,
79 With
uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
80
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
81
Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered muse,
82 The
place of fame and elegy supply:
83 And
many a holy text around she strews,
84 That
teach the rustic moralist to die.
85 For
who to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,
86 This
pleasing anxious being e'er resigned,
87 Left
the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
88 Nor
cast one longing lingering look behind?
89 On
some fond breast the parting soul relies,
90 Some
pious drops the closing eye requires;
91 Ev'n
from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
92 Ev'n
in our ashes live their wonted fires.
93 For
thee, who mindful of the unhonoured dead
94 Dost
in these lines their artless tale relate;
95 If
chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
96 Some
kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
97
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
98 'Oft
have we seen him at the peep of dawn
99
'Brushing with hasty steps the dews away
100 'To
meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
101
'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
102 'That
wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
103
'His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
104
'And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
105
'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
106
'Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove,
107
'Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
108 'Or
crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love.
109
'One morn I missed him on the customed hill,
110
'Along the heath and near his favourite tree;
111
'Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
112
'Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
113
'The next with dirges due in sad array
114
'Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne.
115
'Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay,
116
'Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
The Epitaph
117
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
118 A
youth to fortune and to fame unknown.
119
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
120 And
Melancholy marked him for her own.
121
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
122
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
123 He
gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
124 He
gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
125 No
farther seek his merits to disclose,
126 Or
draw his frailties from their dread abode,
127
(There they alike in trembling hope repose)
128 The
bosom of his Father and his God.
(Gray's
annotations)
Acknowledgement: Internet, Google, Wikipedia, English and American Literature
Omar Khayyam
