In honor of Bloomsday, I read the James Joyce entry in the Encyclopedia Britannica, then looked up the villanelle written by Joyce's character Stephen Dedalus in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
Are you not weary of ardent ways,
Lure of the fallen seraphim?
Tell no more of enchanted days.
Your eyes have set man's heart ablaze
And you have had your will of him.
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
Above the flame the smoke of praise
Goes up from ocean rim to rim.
Tell no more of enchanted days.
Our broken cries and mournful lays
Rise in one eucharistic hymn.
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
While sacrificing hands upraise
The chalice flowing to the brim,
Tell no more of enchanted days.
And still you hold our longing gaze
With languorous look and lavish limb!
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
Tell no more of enchanted days.
On first reading this book at about the age of 20, I was struck by Joyce's supreme confidence in presenting this poem as evidence of the artistry of his protagonist. Up until we see an example of his work, we harbor a lingering doubt that Dedalus is, as he claims, an artist. Maybe he is just a jerk.
Joyce needed to produce a sample that convinced the reader of the young man's self-knowledge, of the accuracy of his pretension to artistic merit. The poem wears pretty well over the years, although it does not sing to me the way it did way back when. It feels somewhat labored, even while sustaining a melodic elegance. And yes, I've heard the interpretations of this poem as a misogynistic attack. Joyce had his problems in representing women; no question about it. I'm not sure this is a good example of that. Dedalus, as a young man, had his notions about femininity and civilization, and these get washed into an ocean of certainty, when perhaps there is a puddle's worth of experience and knowledge. I will not hold against Joyce the allegations of insight by his callow youth of a character, even if the book is usually described as semi-autobiographical.
In looking for some other examples of the villanelle form, I came across an excellent web site, Poetry Through the Ages, where several fine examples of the villanelle form are posted: "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) , "The Home on the Hill" by Edward Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), "Mad Girl’s Love Song" by Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), and, my favorite of these, "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979). It begins:
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Are you not weary of ardent ways,
Lure of the fallen seraphim?
Tell no more of enchanted days.
Your eyes have set man's heart ablaze
And you have had your will of him.
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
Above the flame the smoke of praise
Goes up from ocean rim to rim.
Tell no more of enchanted days.
Our broken cries and mournful lays
Rise in one eucharistic hymn.
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
While sacrificing hands upraise
The chalice flowing to the brim,
Tell no more of enchanted days.
And still you hold our longing gaze
With languorous look and lavish limb!
Are you not weary of ardent ways?
Tell no more of enchanted days.
On first reading this book at about the age of 20, I was struck by Joyce's supreme confidence in presenting this poem as evidence of the artistry of his protagonist. Up until we see an example of his work, we harbor a lingering doubt that Dedalus is, as he claims, an artist. Maybe he is just a jerk.
Joyce needed to produce a sample that convinced the reader of the young man's self-knowledge, of the accuracy of his pretension to artistic merit. The poem wears pretty well over the years, although it does not sing to me the way it did way back when. It feels somewhat labored, even while sustaining a melodic elegance. And yes, I've heard the interpretations of this poem as a misogynistic attack. Joyce had his problems in representing women; no question about it. I'm not sure this is a good example of that. Dedalus, as a young man, had his notions about femininity and civilization, and these get washed into an ocean of certainty, when perhaps there is a puddle's worth of experience and knowledge. I will not hold against Joyce the allegations of insight by his callow youth of a character, even if the book is usually described as semi-autobiographical.
In looking for some other examples of the villanelle form, I came across an excellent web site, Poetry Through the Ages, where several fine examples of the villanelle form are posted: "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) , "The Home on the Hill" by Edward Arlington Robinson (1869-1935), "Mad Girl’s Love Song" by Sylvia Plath (1932-1963), and, my favorite of these, "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979). It begins:
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
1 comments:
What a wonderful tribute to James Joyce! I need to add Bloomsday to my calendar. I loved the classes on Joyce I took as an undergraduate. I count reading Ulysses as one of my proudest accomplishments.
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