Lycidas

http://www.bachelorandmaster.com/britishandamericanpoetry/lycidas.html

This analysis discusses the context, form and content of the poem Lycidas by John Milton, not necessarily in that order.

To begin with, Milton chose Lycidas as an attempt at a trope, or continuation of a character, much like contemporary fanfiction. Lycidas was first written about by Herodotus in his ninth volume. Lycidas was an Athenian Councillor who was brutally executed (stoned to death) for suggesting truce between Athens and Persia, who were contemplating a hugely wasteful war when negotiations and peace were both available options. When written about by Theocritus, Lycidas was a goatherd wrongfully murdered, and by the time Milton wrote the poem Lycidas, Lycidas had become symbolic of unfair, unreasonable, fatally brutal death. Lycidas employs this symbol to express his anguish and frustration about the futility of Edward King’s death.

This leads one to observe the form of the poem, which is an elegy to mourn and grieve over King’s death, and to question God, the Church and society of the day. Milton could not do this outright, for fear of invoking the wrath of the Church, so he uses the Pastoral, rife with pagan symbolism, to mask his Christian theme.

Critics justify Milton’s choice of a Pastoral elegy as follows:

The Pastoral elegy lends itself to the Pagan naturalism that Milton brings in his poetry. Pagan naturalism, unlike Christian spiritualism, is characterized by nature worship, and living and being one with nature.

Milton intensified this by his use of epic elements – the Pastoral elegy in itself is an epic form – like epic characters and epic allusions¹.

The Pastoral elegy also allows for the use of allegory², or satirical form of imagery, to achieve subtle yet biting criticism.

Also, in the Pastoral elegy, nature plays a central role in “setting the mood,” that is reflecting the main character’s turmoil or happiness. This pathetic fallacy is employed by Milton, and the Pastoral elegy allows for it.

And lastly, a pastoral elegy provides a refined view of idyllic life – a life that allows you space, silence, solitude and scope to grieve. Death has a greater impact on the living than the dead. It leaves those left behind desolate, lonely, with the feeling of a cold vacuum in them. A pastoral elegy allows you to return to nature and its soothing, still, silence.

In brief, a Pastoral elegy features: in the beginning, an invocation of the Muses; expression of grief; praise of the deceased; challenging Death; effects of death on Nature; the hope of immortality through history or memory; a procession of mourners; satirical allusions; symbolism; rhetorical questions.

One important point to take note of is that Lycidas was written as a part of anthology dedicated to Edward King, by his friends and classmates. Milton, then only a young college boy, could not accept his friend’s death when he could not see proof of it. We see Milton quarrelling with Death, questioning, arguing and finally coming to terms with and accepting Death. Critics believe that the first verse, written in 14 lines, is an attempt at the back-and-forth, question-and-answer, octet-and-sextet Petrarchan sonnet, and this argumentative tone is noticed throughout the poem.

     Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more

     First allusion: tale of Apollo and Daphne.

     Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,

     I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,

     "I come to pluck” = I am God, and I shall end your life before your time

     Direct metaphor for Edward’s untimely death, and for Milton’s youth or rather unripeness as a poet, and his fear that he will be plucked before his time

     And with forc'd fingers rude

     Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.

     Shatter, not shed – shows the violence of Edward’s death

     Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear

     Death of Edward King

     Compels me to disturb your season due;

     I come to you before your time

     For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,

     Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.

     Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew

     Who would not write for Edward King?

     Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.

     He was, himself a poet

     He must not float upon his wat'ry bier

     And as a poet, must not die unwept, in his watery grave

     Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,

     Without the meed of some melodious tear.

     And not just unwept but unsung – his death must be mourned in poetry

     Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well

     Allusion to and invocation of the Muses – 9 daughters of Zeus

     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 destin'd urn,

     Help me with this poem, gentle Muse

     And as he passes turn

     And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud!

This poem is the shroud upon the body of Edward King

     For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill,

     Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill;

     Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd

     Under the opening eyelids of the morn,

     We drove afield, and both together heard

     What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,

     Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,

     Oft till the star that rose at ev'ning bright

     Toward heav'n's descent had slop'd his westering wheel.

     Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,

     Temper'd to th'oaten flute;

     Rough Satyrs danc'd, and Fauns with clov'n heel,

     From the glad sound would not be absent long;

     And old Damætas lov'd to hear our song.

     In this stanza, the Pastoral elements begin: hill, flock, fountain, shade, rill, lawns, fields etc
     Also, reference to Virgil and Theocritus’ works, in which Damaetas was a frequently occurring character
    The songs that Lycidas and the speaker sang attracted Fauns and Satyrs, who danced along – random unnecessary Greek mythological reference

     But O the heavy change now thou art gone,

     Self-explanatory – all this must change now that you are gone, Lycidas!

     Now thou art gone, and never must return!

     Repetition – reinforces the sorrow of the speaker; “and never must return!” anguish about the permanence of Lycidas’ absence

     Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves,

     With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown,

     And all their echoes mourn.

     The woods and desert caves mourn your loss

     The willows and the hazel copses green

     Shall now no more be seen

     Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays.

     And flowers will no longer be merry

     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:

     Read up

     Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.

    Compares the effect that receiving the news of the death of Lycidas had on him to canker afflicting a rose, taint-worms infesting grazing cattle, or frost killing the color of a flower

     Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep

     Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas?

     Such a drama queen – now asking Nymphs (river spirits) where they were when Lycidas drowned

     For neither were ye playing on the steep

     You were not playing on the hill

     Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,

     Druids are old sages – priests of Apollo

     Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,

     Where the Druids dwelled

     Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.

     Deva is a river that runs through what is now Wales

     Ay me! I fondly dream

     Had ye bin there'—for what could that have done? *

     I wish you were there when Lycidas was drowning – but what good would that do?

     What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,

     Chief Muse – Calliope – daughter of Zeus; bore either Oeagrus or Apollo a boy – Orpheus

     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?

    Story of Orpheus: Orpheus was a wonderful poet. His love for his wife, Euridice, was immense, and when she died and went to the Underworld, he went as well, and sang for Hades to convince him to let her return. Hades, pleased with Orpheus’ song (which was so beautiful and moving that the rocks of the Underworld burst into flower) allowed this, but on one condition – they must not turn around or look back on their way out. Just as they were crossing over into the realm of the living, Euridice tripped and fell and Orpheus, who had reached a little ahead of her, turned around and extended his arm to help her up and in doing so, failed to satisfy Hades’ condition, so he remained in the realm of the living and Euridice was sucked back into Hades, or the Underworld.

    Orpheus then spurned the living. He refused to make merry, which offended Dionysus, who was, essentially, the God of fun. Dionysus sent his followers, the Maenads, to rough up Orpheus, and they chose to do so by throwing sticks and stones at him as he sang, but failed, for the sticks and stones, affected by his song, either dropped halfway or bounced back. The Maenads were driven mad by their failure and in their madness, tore Orpheus apart, limb from limb, and threw his head in the river Hebrus. His head floated down the river and came to rest at the shore of Lesbos (Lesbian shore).

   The Nymph, Calliope, could not save her own son Orpheus from his wretched fate. Milton refers to this in the line marked with the asterisk.

     Alas! what boots it with incessant 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,

     Shepherdess

     Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?

     Naera is a Nymph

     Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise

     (That last infirmity of noble mind)

     To scorn delights and live laborious days;

     Poetry glorified as a virgin endeavour – poetry seen as an act of chastity

     But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,

     Guerdon means reward

     And think to burst out into sudden blaze,

     Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears,

     The three Furies are the daughters of Zeus and Themis. They are also called the Fates, and are responsible for every person’s tapestry of life – one sister spins the wheel, the second weaves the thread, and the third, the blind Fury, Atropos or Morta, depending on where you are, cuts the thread, ending the person’s life.

     And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise,"

     Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears;

     Phoebus is Apollo, the Sun and the God of Poetry

     "Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,

     Fame is not something for the realm of the living

     Nor in the glistering foil

     Read up: "Foil" here refers to a piece of silver or gold placed under a precious stone to enhance its luster (presumably for display purposes). In this sense, a foil creates an illusion, the same way that looking for fame on earth does

     Set off to th'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 Heav'n expect thy meed."

     O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood,

     Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds,

     Now addressing lesser gods – Arethuse and Mincius, both water bodies

     That strain I heard was of a higher mood.

     What Apollo said was too high-class for my understanding

     But now my oat proceeds,

     This poem is his oat – his seed.

     And listens to the Herald of the Sea,

     Triton, the Herald of the Sea, who is the son of Neptune (Poseidon) starts speaking, here, in defence of his father

     That came in Neptune's plea.

     He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon 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;

     Neptune questioned the winds, but they do not know what caused Lycidas’ death – this implies that they are not the cause.

     And sage Hippotades their answer brings,

     That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd;

     The air was calm, and on the level brine

     Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.

     It  was that fatal and perfidious bark,

     Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,

     That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

     It was not Neptune, nor the winds, nor even Panope, who looked after sailors, who was responsible for the drowning of Lycidas – it was his “perfidious bark” or treacherous ship.

     Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,

     Camus is the river god of Cam, the river that ran through Cambridge

     His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge,

     Mantle is the cloak worn on graduation day. Sedge is a moss-like plant that grows on the river bank.

     Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge

     Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.

     "Ah! who hath reft," quoth he, "my dearest pledge?"

     Last came, and last did go,

     The Pilot of the Galilean lake;

     Enter Saint Peter. Also marks the beginning of Christian references

     Two massy keys he bore of metals twain

     (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).

     He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake:

     “How well could I have spar'd for thee, young swain,

     Enow of such as for their bellies' sake

     The clergy of the time who enter the service of the Lord only to fill their bellies

     Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?

     Of other care they little reck'ning 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 learn'd aught else the least

     That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!

     Not true priests – clueless

     What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;

     And when they list their lean and flashy songs

     Fancy Church music

     Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw,

     Reed pipes - flutes

     The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,

     But, swoll'n with wind and the rank mist they draw,

     Stale air they are forced to breathe

     Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread;

     Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw

     Grim wolf = sin

     Daily devours apace, and nothing said,

     But that two-handed engine at the door

     Many speculations – is it man? God?

     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 flow'rets 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,

     The swart star is Sirius - Orion's canine companion who followed him in his death as well
     Throw hither all your quaint enamel'd eyes,

     That on the green turf suck the honied showers

     Honeyed

     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 freak'd with jet,

     The glowing violet,

     The musk-rose, and the well attir'd 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.

     There is no body so no hearse, but the flowers will come together and make a carriage for Lycidas

     For so to interpose a little ease,

     Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.

     A false funeral

     Ay me! Whilst thee the shores and sounding seas

     Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd;

     Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,

     Hebrides is a sea

     Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide

     Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world,

     The Titans were trapped under a cage at the bottom of the ocean

     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 wat'ry floor;

     So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

     <swoons> Guys, figure out this part on your own. It is so beautiful!

     And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

     Anon means soon

     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 walk'd the waves;

     Where, other groves and other streams along,

     With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,

     Lycidas' hair will be dripping, but with nectar

     And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,

     This has nothing to do with a wedding - the nuptial song referred to is the Song of Heaven
     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 th'oaks and rills,

      And here we see that the speaker is not Milton but a shepherd, an uncouth swain

      While the still morn went out with sandals gray;

      Imagery. The dawn exits, wearing grey sandals

      He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,

    Back to the uncouth swain, or young man, who sang this song about Lycidas while walking through a field and running his fingers through the tips of tall grasses

     With eager thought warbling his Doric lay;

     And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills,

     And now was dropp'd into the western bay;

     At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue:

     To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 

   

    
     Returning to the context of the poem, we see that Milton, as a Puritan, criticized the religious and political system of the time, which was the Calvinist church. Puritans question the following three principles of Calvinism:

      First, the absolute sovereignty of God, or the belief that God has absolute control over one’s life

      Second, pre-destination, or the belief that God freely and unchangeably predetermines the course of your life

      And third, total depravity, or the notion that if you are a sinner, or even not Christian, your soul is doomed to eternal damnation.

     Puritans attacked these principles, saying that man is also in control of his life, and rejected the Pope, the papacy and all non-secular rituals, and opposed the divine right of kings.

     Puritanism was a revolutionary democratic principle. It supported the Parliamentary system. It encouraged people to question God, for He is a friend, not their master. This theodicy is seen in many of Milton’s works, such as Paradise Lost.

   
     Lycidas has been criticized, too, for many question whether it is an effective elegy. Milton’s political ideology is seeped into the poem so inextricably that it can truthfully be said to distract the reader. Also, it may not have been “politically responsible” because of its revolutionary Puritan ideology. In fact, Lycidas was published only once, and then banned until 20 years after Milton’s death.                      

1) http://www.shmoop.com/lycidas/classical-allusions-symbol.html
2) "Through allegory, the speaker accuses God of unjustly punishing the young, selfless King, whose premature death ended a career that would have unfolded in stark contrast to the majority of the ministers and bishops of the Church of England, whom the speaker condemns as depraved, materialistic, and selfish."^[3]