Bloom Books Trivandrum: Reviews

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Saturday, 18 August 2012

005. English. The Lake Isle Of Innisfree. W.B.Yeats.

005.
The Lake Isle Of Innisfree. W.B.Yeats. Appreciation By P.S.Remesh Chandran.

Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.
By PSRemeshChandra, 16th Mar 2011. Short URL http://nut.bz/19ed-hvz/

Poets are accused to be unrealistic day-dreamers who are given to fancy. Day-dreaming and fancying all do and take off, but only a few can safely land also. W.B.Yeats was a perfect poet who could do both. Not many have expressed fancy in beautiful words as he did, and fewer still have reminded the world of its duties and responsibilities as effectively. This poem has always been a sensation among the poetry-reading public.

Who will not wish to go to the Lake Island of Innisfree?

Crowded city streets, the dread of poets.

W.B.Yeats was an Irish Poet whose poems are acclaimed for their rich musical content. ‘The Lake Isle Of Innisfree’ also was born out of an exquisite pastoral tune. Anyone walking through crowded city streets subjecting him to vehicle fumes, dust and noise and the irritation of rubbing elbows with others will wish to go to some place he knows where things are in the opposite. All will have one such place in his mind. The quiet and placid Lake Isle of Innisfree has become the universal symbol that comes into any poetry reader's mind. Yeats immortalized the place of his choice through this poem.

The dream of all poets: a secluded hut in a lonely island.

The roadside dream of a poet.
The poet is lying buried under and entangled in the clutches of a mad city life. It has finally become such unbearable and suffocating to him that, if it continues to go on so, he will arise and go to Innisfree never to return. Standing on the street, he dreams of the beautiful and quiet Lake Isle of Innisfree and about the secluded and self-sufficient life it would be possible for him to live there. The usual questions that would be arising in our minds would be, where he will live on the island, what will he eat and what will he drink.

A small cabin made of clay and wattles in a lonely islet.

Open fire gives the wattle roof a steaming effect.
On arriving there, he would build a small cabin, made of clay and wattles available in plenty on any island. The problem of housing is thus addressed. For his food, he will turn to cultivation of beans, a sustaining, nutritious, easy-to-produce food. And he will place a bee-hive somewhere on the island and collect enough honey. Who will say honey is scant in an island of flowers? Thus he will lead a satisfied and self-sufficient life there, listening to the humming of bees, and lying alone in that bee-loud glade. What a contrast to the thick city life in Belfast or London! Seeing how the questions of food and shelter are being addressed by the poet, we can only hope he would be roaming the island in his revelry properly dressed, in whatever is available there.

Ideal peace is a dew-drop falling on the heated head of a cricket.

The midlake abode of quietness and loneliness.
In Innisfree, finally the poet will be able to get a little peace. The poet's conception of peace is quite different from that of others and is strange but lovely. In modern times, peace is an interval between two wars. Then what is peace to this poet? Even his idea of peace is based on the usual early morning sights in a rustic island life. The crickets have been singing and shrieking all through the night, and now they are all sitting with their heated heads, wishing for a bit of coolness to come from somewhere. It was then that the dews of night and the morning mist condensed into peace and a dew drop from the tree leaves above fell straight into the heated head of a cricket. It unknowingly exclaimed: How cool it is, and what peace! The peace that cricket enjoyed then, there, is what peace is to the poet.

Which is more beautiful, morning, noon or night?

Alone in the middle of a bee-loud glade.
How are the morning, noon, evening and midnight in the Lake Isle of Innisfree? The readers and singers of the song already know the freshness and nascence of the dew-filled misty dawns in the island. The noon there is as charming as the evenings in other places. The evenings there are extremely exotic due to the presence of thousands of beautiful birds. And don't think the nights there are devoid of similar beauty. The midnights of Innisfree are indeed illuminated by tiny lights from the millions of fire-flies. What else is needed to enchant and seduce a poet?

All alone in a bee-loud glade: roused by car hones in the middle of a street.

Inspiration for the poem: Lough Gill in Ireland.

Alas! Perhaps a car horn on his very back might have roused him; he is still walking the streets of the city, not lolling in the pleasantness of the lake island. However, he hears in his ears the very sound of lake water lapping gently over the shore. Standing on the roadways and walking the footpaths, he still hears the lake water resounding deep in his heart. Yes, he can have his cool revelry and daydreams; that is his privilege. He is entitled to it. We can leave him standing there on the street, thinking about his Paradise Lost, hoping he won't in his delirium jump into the thick traffic of the City.

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
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Appreciations , Books And Literature, Poetry, Psremesh Chandran Trivandrum, Reviews, Sahyadri Books And Bloom Books Trivandrum, The Lake Isle Of Innisfree, W.B.Yeats

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PSRemeshChandra
Editor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan: The Intelligent Picture Book.

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Thursday, 16 August 2012

004. English. The Leech Gatherer. William Wordsworth.

004.
The Leech-Gatherer. William Wordsworth. Appreciation by P.S.Remesh Chandran.
Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.

By PSRemeshChandra, 15th Mar 2011. Short URL http://nut.bz/134a-2vx/

William Wordsworth's poetry has no style because Nature and Life has no style. The perfect plainness of his poems gained him popularity. He mostly wrote about Nature and Man and is considered the world's greatest Nature Poet. The world was very late in recognizing his merit. However, Glory found its way into his grave. The Leech-Gatherer is the universal symbol of Eternal Human Labour.

A poet's perennial interest in Man and Nature.

A Portrait of William Wordsworth.

The poem The Leech-Gatherer has an alternative title, Resolution And Independence which is apt. When Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Mary Shelley, according to a story, decided to write one model horror creation each, Coleridge wrote ‘The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner’ which became an instant horror classic. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein which still terrorizes the world. Wordsworth who was inept in such matters wrote The Stolen Boat which made no one horrified. The Leech-Gatherer was his supplement to this sequel which fulfilled its mission by creating a new sophistication in horror. It is one of the immortal creations of Wordsworth and can be spotted so among the hundreds of inferior poems he created during his poetic career. It has been a universal question, whether the world will provide for us in our old age. The Leech-Gatherer is the answer to this age-old question.

Appearance of exquisite nature pictures in poetry pages, after Edmund Spenser.

Dove Cottage in Grasmere. Once Home to Wordsworth.

The poem opens with presentation of a series of beautiful nature pictures, second only to Edmund Spenser in his The Fairee Queene. After the heavy rain and storm of yester night, the Sun is rising calm and bright as if nothing had happened the day before. The atmosphere is such still and silent that sweet sounds of birds singing in the distant woods can be heard as distinctly as if they are very near. The voices of Stock-Dove, Magpie and Jay mixed with the pleasant noise of waters flowing everywhere fills the atmosphere. All the Sun-loving creatures are out of doors, i.e., out of their caves and dens, and the simple grass is shining bright with the rain drops adorning them. Unable to hide her mirth, the hare is running races in the morning air on the moor, just like frivolous and playful kitten. Wherever she touches her feet, tiny water particles splashes up rising like mist from the splashy earth, glittering in the Sun, forming beautiful rainbow-glows about her tiny feet. The poet can feel the very pulse-beat of Nature since he is personally present there.

As light and happy as a lark.

Grasmere Village With The Dove Cottage.

'He was then a morning traveller upon that moor. He was as happy as a boy that he sometimes heard and sometimes heard not the roaring sounds of the great woods and waterfalls around him.' Now he has quite forgotten how sad he was moments earlier and would be, moments after. He has reached the peak of happiness if there is one, forgetting all his pangs and past memories and that sad, useless melancholic mood common and so natural to man.

Premonitions of a lonely traveller on the moor.

Waterfall and Stone Hut where the Poet wrote poems

When we are happy, we begin to think that our happiness won't end. And when we are sad, we begin to feel anxious about whether our sadness won't end some day. Happiness and sadness are but waves in the sea of thoughtfulness which recede to the same still broadness. It is only natural for man to fall from the height of happiness to the depth of dejection. This happens to the poet also in that fine morning.

Clouds coming into the serene mind of a poet.

'He was a traveller then upon the moor.'

Fears and fancies come thick into his mind, like clouds coming ominously into a serene sky. In the midst and presence of such blissful creatures as the warbling sky lark and the playful hare, he feels himself to be walking away far from the world and all earthly cares. His whole life he has lived in pleasant thoughts as if life's business were a summer dream. His poetry-writing career had not brought him enough to buy even his shoe-strings. Many mighty poets have returned to earth in their misery, suffering fleshly ills such as cold, pain and heavy labour. Would he too die the same way? Would solitude, distress, pain of heart, and poverty be awaiting him too, to accompany him to his grave? Is it not so that the tragic career of all poets, as a rule, begins in gladness and ends in sadness and gloom? The marvelous village Milton that was Chatterton, who had walked in glory and in joy along his native mountain side following his plough, had perished in poverty, but with pride. But why are these ominous thoughts occurring to him at these untoward moments? The goose-bumps springing up all through his body struck in that lonely and desolate moor told him that Nature is soon going to present him with some sign of divine warning to admonish him about the preciousness and rarity of Time. Then he saw it- the warning, placed there on the wild for all the world to see.

The warning written on the lonely moor, beside the pool.

Sudden appearance of a ghost of a man here.

A very old man, perhaps the oldest man that ever wore grey hairs, appeared suddenly beside a pool in that wild, the oldest person the poet ever saw in this world. He never fitted in with those lonely wild surroundings. Such an extremely old man in such strangest of circumstances was odd and out of place. Nature does startle man with her bizarre and striking spectacles. 'Sometimes huge stones can be seen lying couched on tree-less bald mountain tops, causing wonder to all who look at them.' One will begin to think whether or not they are gifted with an unnatural ability to walk up the mountain eminence and lie couching there, precariously balanced. Another equally tantalizing spectacle is from the sea shore, that of 'some huge sea-beast crawled forth and reposing on some shelf of rock or sand to sun itself.' Such bizarre and out of place seemed the appearance and look of that old man in such strange surroundings. Some wild experience of disease or pain had caused his body to bend unnaturally double, making his feet and head come close together, in life's pilgrimage. One will wonder how he can make himself still stand erect in that nature-tortured frame. He propped his body upon a long grey staff of shaven wood. 'Upon the margin of that pool, he stood there as motionless as a firm cloud that moveth not in the wind, and if it moves at all, moves all together.' Not anywhere else in world literature has the uncanny appearance of old age ever been pictured more movingly.

Will the world look after us when we are old?

Gardens landscaped by the poet in Rydal Mount.

The old man was stirring the pond with his staff and studying the muddy water. Wordsworth very much wished to ask the old man what his occupation was there. He asked and the old man answered in an uncommon, lofty, decorated language. He was simply catching leeches from the pool. Enduring many hardships on the way, he had come to the pool to gather leeches for food and for sale. He has resolved to be independent and self-reliant in his old age. He roamed from pool to pool and from moor to moor gaining his legitimate living. He 'gained an honest maintenance and got housing by chance or choice each day through God's help.'

Was it real, or a vision of admonition from eternity?

Pond on the moor which the poet frequented.

The old man's words burnt deep into the lazy poet's heart. He wondered whether he hadn't seen this person somewhere in his dreams. Yes, this is the eternal Time Man, The Kaala Purusha, walking through ages, 'sent from some far off region to strengthen the poet by apt admonition.' The lonely place, the old man's shape and speech- all troubled him and for a while, he lost his senses. However, when he regained his consciousness, he was a completely changed new man, like the wedding- guest in ‘The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner’. The poet resolved to think about the leech-gatherer on the lonely moor, in future whenever his mind lost its strength. Thus the alternate title for the poem, ‘Resolution And Independence’ is very appropriate. The element of horror in the poem owes it's thanks to the poet's friend Coleridge. The plainness of the poem is derived from Burns. The genuine contribution of Wordsworth in the poem is the unique moral treatment of the Man and Nature theme.

Note:

There is a jungle beauty spot with a broad, step waterfall in Meenmutty in Nanniyode Village in the Trivandrum District of Kerala. Mighty mountains surround it. I was a regular visitor to this place where I would wash my apparels, bathe in the torrent and lie on the rocks. On the distant mountain folds can be seen often an old man coming down, appearing and disappearing according to the nip and fall in the terrain. Finally he would reach the river bank and take a dip beside me in the torrent. Unlike the other natives, we were the two who preferred bathing above the waterfall to rather than descending to the safety of the lower tranquil part of the river. We both liked taking the risk of being swept away down by a flash flood that may originate from the proximity to the mountains. Then he would take his bait and catch one or two fishes for his dinner. Then he would rise and taking the fishes, the firewood, grass bundles for his goats, two killed birds and a hare, all gathered from the mountains, walk down through the rocks towards his home. Whenever he appeared on the river bank in the evenings, a water crow, the blackest and the ugliest I ever saw, also appeared and sat beside him on a rock amid the stream, hoping for a fish from his catch which it invariably got. I knew this old man was severe and strict to his children, wife and others, but his ragged and weather-beaten frame and his uncouth behavior was an attraction to me, a fascination. He in my eyes was a genuine unpolished creation of nature, independent and resolute in his old age.

One day news came that he was bitten by a deadly snake in the mountains and was lying in critical stage in a hospital. Many times it was rumoured that he has gone, and that it was good to his family. The water crow sat there on the rock amid the torrent each day. It was the first time I prayed Lord Shiva to perform a miracle and do not withdraw this creation from the village too soon. Anyway the Lord has an adornment of a magnificent snake around his neck. After days of lying unconscious the man was brought back to life, to the disappointment of many. In the distant mountain folds the head can still be seen rising up and down as he comes down to the river carrying his catch. The water crow still sits there on the rock in the stream and gets its snacks.

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons ____________________________

Tags

Book Appreciations, English Literature, English Songs, Poetry, Psremesh Chandran, Resolution And Independence, Reviews, Sahyadri Books And Bloom Books Trivandrum, The Leech-Gatherer, William Wordsworth

Meet the author

PSRemeshChandra
Editor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan: The Intelligent Picture Book.

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003. English. The Forsaken Merman by Matthew Arnold.

003.
The Forsaken Merman by Matthew Arnold: A Creation of Beauty. Appreciation By P.S.Remesh Chandran.
Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.

By PSRemeshChandra, 13th Mar 2011. Short URL http://nut.bz/1ljtosiw/

Matthew Arnold has been a severe critic of Literature. Essays In Criticism was his monumental work in which he let no great poet go unscathed. Usually such critics would be asked a common question: why don't you write a great poem? This poem The Forsaken Merman was Arnold's answer in which he proved not only could he create poems of hilarious themes but could incorporate a number of exquisite tunes also in a single poem. After creating a few more poems he returned to Criticism and Academics.

The Forsaken Merman. Poem by Matthew Arnold. An appreciation.

Ocean is nothing but Land submerged.

Matthew Arnold relates a very strange story in his poem The Forsaken Merman. The beautiful poem is picture-like, the descriptions of the sea-scapes and land-scapes vivid and presentation of the theme is logical. But the story is impossible to happen, though his inspiration for the theme can perhaps be traced to a spectacular sea-side village named Zennor in the County of Cornwall in England. It is not clear whether he happened to visit this village, but there indeed is a Mermaid Chair in the Church and also an associated legend, the hero in which having the poet's exact name Matthew. A mermaid who lived in the Pendour Cove was entranced by Matthew's exotic singing in the church and regularly visited the church in disguise. One day Matthew found out, fell deeply in love and followed her beneath the waves to her deep sea cavern. They were never again seen on land. The Cornish legend holds that in silent nights Matthew can still be heard singing from the deep sea, faintly brought to land by the breeze.

A lady from the land making her home in the deep sea cavern.

Lady from the land makes home in sea cavern.

Margaret, a lady from the land happened to marry a King of the Sea, a merman. She now has her home and her children in the deep sea where they live in a cavern. The winds are all asleep there. The cavern is sand-strewn, cool and deep. The cavern is cold and dark also. Sea plants, sea animals and sea snakes are all around. Sometimes great whales can be seen passing by, resembling great ships on the sea surface. She has a loving husband and is leading a happy life in the depth of the sea.

Life arriving alighted on meteorites from cosmic realms.

Where the Winds are all asleep.

Days of festivities in the land are endeared and nostalgic to all terrestrial human beings who are far away from land. One day, on silent Christmas nights, the sounds of pealing church bells reach the ocean bottom from the land. Man is mortal, temperamental and selfish. But water is something rare, precious and ethereal. Ocean is where life originated, smithereens of which arrived alighted on meteorites from the cosmic realms and deposited there Aeons ago. Considering the length and brevity of history of life in the sea and in the land, there is difference in the subtlety in loyalties. The sea demands much in loyalty but the loyalty of a land-locked being is brittle.

Church bells from the land reaches where the winds are all asleep.

The Church on the Hill Side.

Hearing the tongs of bells from the far away land, Margaret became home-sick and wishes to rise to the land to participate in the Christmas celebrations there. She forgets she is a mother and wife. It is terrible and strange that she is tired of sea-life overnight. She says:

"It will be Easter time in the world- ah me!
And I loose my poor soul Merman, here with thee."

So with her loving husband's permission, she rises from the sea and reaches her home land. The land has its thrills, beauties and enjoyments just as the sea has its own. Margaret forgot her family left behind in the deep sea.

From the deep sea in search of a beloved wife.

From the deep sea in search of beloved wife.

Mermen and the angels are thought to be alike in many respects. Ardence, affection, kindness and mercy are considered to be their characteristics. Mighty monarchs of the deep, perfectly reflecting the magnanimity and loftiness of the oceans, keep their vows of chastity and integrity. The King of the Sea waited long for his wife's return from the land. So one day, with their children, he too rose up from the sea, came to land and visited the church where Margaret usually prayed.

Generations of grief in the tumultuous soul of the holy trinity.

Steps to the Curch where Aliens walked.

They stood secretly outside and peeped inside through the church window. Being not humans and therefore aliens in land, they dared not go inside. This grief-stricken trio consisting of father, daughter and son knew nothing about Christian kindness. They were a holy trinity unto themselves. Generations of grief had been what caused that cosmic particle deposited on the ocean to germinate and evolve itself into life forms. Wind and waves and sky can never quieten the tumult in their souls. Won't humans ever pay their debts to their gods?

A mother of ingratitude, her eyes sealed to the holy book.

Her eyes were sealed to the Holy Book.

Her face was buried deep in the Bible. Through mutually understandable gestures, he tried in many ways to hint that their children very much longed for her. He asked the children to call and appeal to the motherhood in her in their voices in the hope that children's voices would be dear to a mother's ear. The children called their mother in their voices familiar to her. It was all in vain. She listened not. ‘She gave them never a look, for her eyes were sealed to the holy book.' It is the first time the readers of this poem curses and hates the holy book. She was pretending. So it was useless persuading her to go back with them to the sea. She was determined not to return to sea.

We will gaze from the sand hills, at the white sleeping town.

We will gaze from the sand hills.

Before returning to the sea with his children, the Merman once again visited the church and the town where his wife lived. He could see that she was living a very happy and contended life. She was seen always singing of supreme joy. 'She sang her fill, singing most joyfully.' However, the merman could see a tear drop down her sorrow-clouded eye. She was actually sad for her children left at sea. The cold, strange eyes of her little girl child looking at her through the equally cold church window had created pangs in her guilty soul. So the disappointed merman with his children decided to return to the sea. Before he goes, he proposes to his children to visit the land on moonlit nights again. They would come and see the church and the town by nights. He sings:

"We will gaze from the sand-hills
At the white sleeping town,
At the church on the hill side
And then come back down."

The pain in the eyes of a girl-child left out by her mother.

We will gaze from the sand hills at the lost town.

Matthew Arnold created the closing lines of this poem ever memorable. The grief of a girl-child who is left out and abandoned by her beloved mother can never be and shall be described in words. It is unspeakable. The readers will never forget the pain in the cold strange eyes of the girl child looking at her mother through the church windows. Arnold wished to make the world weep with his poem; he succeeded.

Note

Matthew Arnold was the son of Thomas Arnold, the famous teacher who introduced the famous Public School System in England. The son did not fail his father even once and not only shone like a star in literature, but excelled as an Academic and Inspector of Schools also. Even though he was a critic in blood, we will forget he is, once we get immersed in his poetry. He is indeed a born poet also. What he really was, a critic or a poet, perhaps he himself might not have known well. However, his over-indulgence in literary criticism was responsible for the scantiness of his poems. His creations in both fields are equally excellent and respected.

It is known that no one has ever orchestrated The Forsaken Merman fully which is a great loss to the world. He used a variety of excellent tunes in the song to appropriately and touchingly express each move and twist in the mood along the song, which it seems he conceived as a musical entertainment. I approached this song not as an academic but as an appreciator struggling to sing it. I was thrilled at my success. I did nothing special or exceptional in my endeavor, but repeatedly sang it as many times till the original music that was on the mind of the poet while writing this song automatically clicked and was revealed. It was like unlocking a closed precious thing through perseverance. It should be said that this cunning poet skillfully locked his music to prevent access to the lazy and the haughty.

The musical experiment Matthew Arnold did with The Forsaken Merman is unique in the field of music as well as in the field of literature. Only one other poet has ever been known to have conducted such a bold, successful and thrilling experiment in music as well as in literature. It was Alfred Lord Tennyson. The poem was The Lotos-Eaters. In this song Tennyson invented and used a number of tunes to move in synchronization with the tantalizingly changing actions of the intoxicated. He incorporated even the swaying to and fro movements of the ship carrying the Lotos-eaten dreamers in corresponding movements in his music. The world is still awaiting the Choreographed Orchestrations of The Forsaken Merman and The Lotos-Eaters. They are yet to come, but they will come indeed.

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
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Tags

Appreciation, English Literature, English Poems, Forsaken Merman, Matthew Arnold, Psremesh Chandran, Reviews, Sahyadri Books Bloom Books, Trivandrum

Meet the author

PSRemeshChandra
Editor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan: The Intelligent Picture Book.

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Monday, 19 March 2012

001. English. Solitude. Alexander Pope. Appreciation by P.S.Remesh Chandran.

001.
Solitude. Alexander Pope. Appreciation by P.S.Remesh Chandran.
Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books,Trivandrum.

By PSRemeshChandra, 7th Mar 2011. Short URL http://nut.bz/281k669t/
Posted in Wikinut Poetry

Alexander Pope was born a Catholic in the Protestant England, was forbidden to live in the London City and had to pay a double taxation. Moreover, he was suffering from a series of diseases. To combat these handicaps, he possessed more than the courage of a lion. His poems were acrimonious attacks on society, and in a few cases they were against authority. He mentioned names in his poems, leaving dashes which his contemporaries happily filled in, to the embarrassment of his adversaries.

Satisfaction, self-sufficiency and piety are the characteristics of a happy life.

Portrait of Alexander Pope.

'Ode On Solitude' which was alternately titled 'The Quiet Life' was written by Alexander Pope to celebrate the virtues of a happy and satisfied life. In this poem, he discusses the characteristics of a happy life which are satisfaction, self-sufficiency and piety. Man was the fittest subject for his poetry. In an imaginative treatment, he illuminates the knowledge about man, in relation to individuals, society and the Universe. He once said: The proper study of mankind is man. To him belongs the greatest number of quotations in the English Language. Essay On Man, Essay On Criticism, The Rape Of The Lock, and The Temple Of Fame are the most famous of his works. They are very long poems, but the Ode On Solitude is very short one. Even though it is very short, it conveys to mankind a full philosophy. We cannot search for a happy man in this world because he is a very rare specimen to find, but can certainly identify one by tracing the characteristics of a happy life back to him.

Be happy to breathe one's native air in his own ground.

Happy to breathe his native air in his own ground.

Everyone knows that he who goes after increasing the area of land in his possession by encroaching into his neighbor's property will land in trouble and lose the quietness and happiness in his life. The happy man is satisfied with what he is having at present. He is not interested in increasing his landed properties. His wish and care are bound within the few acres of land given to him by his ancestors. The few paternal acres are enough for him. In the old England, whoever wanted more prosperity than what his natives had, went to France and made money. At one time it was even joked that whoever vanished from Dover in search of a job would certainly make his appearance soon in Kalais. But the happy man wishes not to go abroad to France or anywhere else to make money or to enjoy life as others of his times did. He is content to breathe his native air in his own ground. Thus satisfaction is characteristic of a quiet, happy life.

He who watches the passing of time without anxiety is happy.

A day's labour blesses us with a night's sleep.

Dependence leads to bondage and bondage deprives man of his freedom. With the loss of freedom, the quietness and happiness in man's life is lost. Therefore the happy man would be self-sufficient also. He would not depend on others for his food, clothes and drinks. His herds would be supplying him with milk and his flocks of black sheep would be supplying him with wool for making his attire. He would be winning his bread by cultivating his own fields. And he would have planted enough number of trees in his homestead which would yield him a cool shade in the summer and enough firewood to burn in the winter. Thus self-sufficiency also is another character of a happy life.

Time passes as if a sledge is sliding over the snow.

Herds and woods for milk and fire.

If somebody can watch without anxiety the passing of time, then he is a blessed person indeed. Hours, days and years slide soft away as if a sledge is sliding over the snow. Time progresses in a straight line and no point in it will ever be repeated. The feelings and passions attached to a particular moment can never be enjoyed anymore. Right actions of the tiny moments constitute what is happiness in life. Piety or unchanging belief is the faculty desirable, which he is in possession of in plenty. He regrets not a moment in his life. Therefore he can unconcernedly observe the passing of time, in health of body and peace of mind. His is the perfect attitude towards Time.

Withdraw stealthily from the world: Let not even a stone tell where one lies.

Who can unconcernedly watch time passing away.

The nights of the happy man would be spent on sleeping sound. His daytime activities do not leave a room for horror-filled dreams during the nights. His day time would be devoted to a recreation-like studying, which is everyone's dream. It must be remembered here that not all are blessed with a successful books-publishing career and heavy royalties from published books like the poet. But a thirty percent book reading, ten percent life experience and the rest sixty percent travel would make any man perfect. Study and ease, together mixed, is a sweet recreation indeed, which is the poet's formula of life. The happy man's innocence, his perfection and his meditative traits makes him pleasing to the world.

Books are real monuments for a poet, taking him to eternity.

Books are real monuments for a poet.

Like a truly happy man, the poet wishes to live unseen and unknown like a nonentity, and die unlamented. He wishes to withdraw stealthily from this world and pleads that not a stone be placed over his grave to tell the world where he lies. He wishes perfect, undisturbed Solitude. Conversely, this poem is the real epitaph for this poet. It teaches the world lessons.

Brilliant success and sweet revenge of a poet.

Alexander Pope's villa in Twickenham on the Thames

For people who idealize perfect life, especially for poets, it would be impossible to achieve success in normal circumstances. So it would be interesting to note how this poet hunted by his society took his sweet revenge on those who excluded him and his people from London’s social and literary circles. Pope considered thousands of lines in Shakespeare’s works not original and contaminated by stage actors’ speeches to please and thrill the audience. So he completely edited and recast them in the clean poetic form and published a regularized new edition of Shakespeare in 1725. He translated Odyssey as well. These and his major works of later years gained him universal fame, were translated into many languages including German and caused him to be considered as a philosopher. But the epic feat of this unmarried poet was done in the very early years of his literary career. Like Keats, Pope was an admirer of Greek Poetry from his boyhood. His dream was translating the Iliad into English which he did in six books during the six years from 1715. Even the severe Samuel Johnson called it a performance beyond age and nation. Coming from Johnson, it was indeed praise. Publication of this monumental work brought him instant fame in England and abroad and also a fortune for his wallet. With this immense amount of money, the poet bought him a home in Twickenham which he decorated with precious stones and intricate mirror arrangements. He made the subterranean rooms resound with the pleasant noise of an underground stream. Because mermaids could not be purchased, he did not equip one.

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons

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Tags

Alexander Pope, Appreciations, English Songs, Literature And Language, P S Remesh Chandran, Poetry, Poets, Quiet Life, Reviews, Sahyadri Books And Bloom Books Trivandrum, Solitude

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