Sitting on the balcony of the eyrie in the morning sun drinking tea from my grandmother’s Royal Albert and reading ‘Lycidas’ by Milton may not be everyone’s idea of the best way to start a day, but it certainly has my vote.
With only the mechanical rumble of the water purification system for the pool and the roar of a passing 747 for company I can appreciate the fascinating complexity of Milton’s paean for his dead friend. Although I have read this poem a number of times before (I ‘did’ it in school and university) I was still jolted to find that phrases like, ‘dead ere his prime’; ‘To sport with Amaryllis in the shade’; ‘Fame is the spur’; ‘Look homeward Angel’; ‘Tomorrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new’ – all come from this work!
I wonder how many people can read this poem today and be comfortable with all the Classical references? Certainly not me. Milton’s word order is also a difficulty or a delight depending on your education and age. And his resolute Christianity, “Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,/ For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead.” May also be a problem in this more than secular age.
In an age which finds the dreadful doggerel of the obituary verses printed in newspapers to be the lyrical face of public woe, a highly worked English version of a Classical original seems by its very effort and complexity to be out of sympathy with real grief. How can real feeling find its way through a forest of Classical allusion and the straitjacket of irregularly rhymed verse. These constraints to modern eyes were of course liberation to a person versed in the Classical forms. For Milton the elements of the Pastoral Elegy were already in place; the artifice of the form gave him a framework to express his authentic grief and his absolute faith in the ‘blest Kingdom’ which would, for Lycidas, ‘wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.’ This faith allows the Poet to contemplate living a full life after the death of his friend and with confidence progress to ‘fresh Woods, and pastures new.’
I cannot remember this poem making much of an impact on me when I studied it in school, and my reading of it was cursory when I had to ‘do’ it in university, but this reading I found deeply moving.
The fact that the drowning of Edward King in 1637 was transformed by Milton, using the Classical name of Lycidas for his friend, allowed Milton to express a range and depth to his grief which would have seemed immoderate and questionable if he had preserved the real name of his friend. Yes, the end of the poem is uplifting and determinedly optimistic, but the memorable part of the poem is the elegy and the lyrical expression of loss. Rather like the sonnet ‘On his blindness’ we tend to remember the poignant expression of frustration rather than the fairly pompous ‘They also serve who only stand and wait’ in the conclusion. So in ‘Lycidas’ what is memorable is the grief and horrible sense of loss rather than the conventional ‘and they all died happily ever after’ of Christian optimism of the ending.
And to those of you who think that writing about a seventeenth century poem written on the death of a friend is an odd way to spend a Saturday morning – cut me some slack, at least I don’t smoke! That’s got to give me some latitude!
Viewed from the first floor living room window our destruction of the tree stumps looks wilful and rather indiscriminate. There will have to be a good deal more tidying up before the point zero of our slashing activities looks like a reasonable part of the garden, but we have made a start. There is now a substantial new part of the garden which will have to be thought about and made into a more productive area. I will leave that to Toni!
I now have to go to the estate agents to redirect their demands for money to the correct bank. I confidently expect trouble from this change over because it has seemed so smooth so far. BBVA, if they are anything like they have been in the past, will find a way to screw me. I would like to think that it was personal animosity on their part, but it isn’t, it is merely the institutional incompetence which has characterized every element in the ‘service’ that they have extended to me. I must write The Letter while my anger is still an active memory but while my feelings of revenge have cooled to allow the most effective form of expression of which I am capable.
The changing of bank accounts for the estate agents was simplicity itself (assuming they actually get the details right) but another problem has presented itself.
In the summer the parking in Castelldefels is the motorists’ equivalent of the Somme. The crazy places in which day trippers place their cars is enough to make the indigenous inhabitants weep. Especially if the unthinking outsiders actually park across your driveway, thus trapping the car inside the house.
Although parking is illegal on our side of the road as motorists have to put their vehicles on the pavement to allow others to pass, it does not stop them. This is why you have something called a ‘bardo’ to stop motorists parking. The bardo is a metal sign issued by the local authority which informs putative parkers that their vehicles will be towed away if they have the impertinence to place their cars there.
Of course you have to pay for the sign; its placement and an annual charge for the bardo to be in force. But for the peace of mind that this sign gives (motorists do generally obey it) we thought that it would be a good investment. We therefore instructed the estate agents to start the process. This process has been going on since July and nothing has happened.
Today when I went to see the estate agents about changing my bank for the payment of the rent I was informed by the person who deals with us that she had information but that it would be better if Toni phoned up and she spoke to him. Toni duly phoned and was told that a meeting face-to-face would be necessary to discuss this sign. Rather mysteriously ‘building work’ was mentioned. We have no idea what they are talking about. This afternoon will therefore see us traipsing down to the centre of Castelldefels for a ‘meeting’ with our agents to tell us things they could not over the phone! Most mysterious!
I have now (in this task orientated holiday) taken my bike back to the shop because the dynamo was impossible to work; the stand was loose and a back wheel guard was missing. In another example of my touching faith in people I will await the phone call from the shop which I was told that I would get today or tomorrow, which will tell me what is being done and when I can get my bike back.
My attempts to find a ‘bike safe’ (a construction like a big box which you can leave outside with your bike safely inside) have signally failed with people looking at me as if I am talking a strange and incomprehensible language – which, to be fair, I often am when I attempt my version of Spanish. I will not despair and I have not yet resorted to the internet and a shop in Britain. Not yet. But it’s close.
Another task completed was to buy a case for my little computer. I have been making do with the ‘skin’ that they supplied with the machine, but that is clearly inadequate and the poor little thing is getting progressively bashed. I made the mistake of taking Toni with me when I went to look at the cases on offer. Toni is very much a member of the that-will-do school of shopping – a school I might add that I regard as the antithesis of real shopping. I have ended up with something a little more bulky that I would have liked, but something which affords much more protection that the machine has had before. And I also got a free ‘mini-mouse’ which allegedly lights up in kaleidoscopic colours. It really does, I’ve tested it. When I can ever use with without ridicule I don’t know, but I think it’s rather cool!
The explanation for the meeting with the agents about the Bardo (see above) ended in our being given a photocopy of a completely incomprehensible letter from the local authority telling us that we need one and a half thousand euros of building work on the pavement if we are to be given a bardo. As the house three doors down has a bardo and has a pavement exactly the same as ours the letter does not make any sense.
This could run and run!
With only the mechanical rumble of the water purification system for the pool and the roar of a passing 747 for company I can appreciate the fascinating complexity of Milton’s paean for his dead friend. Although I have read this poem a number of times before (I ‘did’ it in school and university) I was still jolted to find that phrases like, ‘dead ere his prime’; ‘To sport with Amaryllis in the shade’; ‘Fame is the spur’; ‘Look homeward Angel’; ‘Tomorrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new’ – all come from this work!
I wonder how many people can read this poem today and be comfortable with all the Classical references? Certainly not me. Milton’s word order is also a difficulty or a delight depending on your education and age. And his resolute Christianity, “Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,/ For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead.” May also be a problem in this more than secular age.
In an age which finds the dreadful doggerel of the obituary verses printed in newspapers to be the lyrical face of public woe, a highly worked English version of a Classical original seems by its very effort and complexity to be out of sympathy with real grief. How can real feeling find its way through a forest of Classical allusion and the straitjacket of irregularly rhymed verse. These constraints to modern eyes were of course liberation to a person versed in the Classical forms. For Milton the elements of the Pastoral Elegy were already in place; the artifice of the form gave him a framework to express his authentic grief and his absolute faith in the ‘blest Kingdom’ which would, for Lycidas, ‘wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.’ This faith allows the Poet to contemplate living a full life after the death of his friend and with confidence progress to ‘fresh Woods, and pastures new.’
I cannot remember this poem making much of an impact on me when I studied it in school, and my reading of it was cursory when I had to ‘do’ it in university, but this reading I found deeply moving.
The fact that the drowning of Edward King in 1637 was transformed by Milton, using the Classical name of Lycidas for his friend, allowed Milton to express a range and depth to his grief which would have seemed immoderate and questionable if he had preserved the real name of his friend. Yes, the end of the poem is uplifting and determinedly optimistic, but the memorable part of the poem is the elegy and the lyrical expression of loss. Rather like the sonnet ‘On his blindness’ we tend to remember the poignant expression of frustration rather than the fairly pompous ‘They also serve who only stand and wait’ in the conclusion. So in ‘Lycidas’ what is memorable is the grief and horrible sense of loss rather than the conventional ‘and they all died happily ever after’ of Christian optimism of the ending.
And to those of you who think that writing about a seventeenth century poem written on the death of a friend is an odd way to spend a Saturday morning – cut me some slack, at least I don’t smoke! That’s got to give me some latitude!
Viewed from the first floor living room window our destruction of the tree stumps looks wilful and rather indiscriminate. There will have to be a good deal more tidying up before the point zero of our slashing activities looks like a reasonable part of the garden, but we have made a start. There is now a substantial new part of the garden which will have to be thought about and made into a more productive area. I will leave that to Toni!
I now have to go to the estate agents to redirect their demands for money to the correct bank. I confidently expect trouble from this change over because it has seemed so smooth so far. BBVA, if they are anything like they have been in the past, will find a way to screw me. I would like to think that it was personal animosity on their part, but it isn’t, it is merely the institutional incompetence which has characterized every element in the ‘service’ that they have extended to me. I must write The Letter while my anger is still an active memory but while my feelings of revenge have cooled to allow the most effective form of expression of which I am capable.
The changing of bank accounts for the estate agents was simplicity itself (assuming they actually get the details right) but another problem has presented itself.
In the summer the parking in Castelldefels is the motorists’ equivalent of the Somme. The crazy places in which day trippers place their cars is enough to make the indigenous inhabitants weep. Especially if the unthinking outsiders actually park across your driveway, thus trapping the car inside the house.
Although parking is illegal on our side of the road as motorists have to put their vehicles on the pavement to allow others to pass, it does not stop them. This is why you have something called a ‘bardo’ to stop motorists parking. The bardo is a metal sign issued by the local authority which informs putative parkers that their vehicles will be towed away if they have the impertinence to place their cars there.
Of course you have to pay for the sign; its placement and an annual charge for the bardo to be in force. But for the peace of mind that this sign gives (motorists do generally obey it) we thought that it would be a good investment. We therefore instructed the estate agents to start the process. This process has been going on since July and nothing has happened.
Today when I went to see the estate agents about changing my bank for the payment of the rent I was informed by the person who deals with us that she had information but that it would be better if Toni phoned up and she spoke to him. Toni duly phoned and was told that a meeting face-to-face would be necessary to discuss this sign. Rather mysteriously ‘building work’ was mentioned. We have no idea what they are talking about. This afternoon will therefore see us traipsing down to the centre of Castelldefels for a ‘meeting’ with our agents to tell us things they could not over the phone! Most mysterious!
I have now (in this task orientated holiday) taken my bike back to the shop because the dynamo was impossible to work; the stand was loose and a back wheel guard was missing. In another example of my touching faith in people I will await the phone call from the shop which I was told that I would get today or tomorrow, which will tell me what is being done and when I can get my bike back.
My attempts to find a ‘bike safe’ (a construction like a big box which you can leave outside with your bike safely inside) have signally failed with people looking at me as if I am talking a strange and incomprehensible language – which, to be fair, I often am when I attempt my version of Spanish. I will not despair and I have not yet resorted to the internet and a shop in Britain. Not yet. But it’s close.
Another task completed was to buy a case for my little computer. I have been making do with the ‘skin’ that they supplied with the machine, but that is clearly inadequate and the poor little thing is getting progressively bashed. I made the mistake of taking Toni with me when I went to look at the cases on offer. Toni is very much a member of the that-will-do school of shopping – a school I might add that I regard as the antithesis of real shopping. I have ended up with something a little more bulky that I would have liked, but something which affords much more protection that the machine has had before. And I also got a free ‘mini-mouse’ which allegedly lights up in kaleidoscopic colours. It really does, I’ve tested it. When I can ever use with without ridicule I don’t know, but I think it’s rather cool!
The explanation for the meeting with the agents about the Bardo (see above) ended in our being given a photocopy of a completely incomprehensible letter from the local authority telling us that we need one and a half thousand euros of building work on the pavement if we are to be given a bardo. As the house three doors down has a bardo and has a pavement exactly the same as ours the letter does not make any sense.
This could run and run!
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