Analysis, Lycidas

Casey Murphy
Milton
28 March 2015
Midterm Essays

Lycidas
In August of 1637 a young man named Edward King set sail off the coast of Anglesey in a ship that would never again find its port. His death was such a loss to his family and colleagues that a book entitled, "Justa Edouardo King naufrago ab amicis moerentibus, amoris & mneias charin" ('Obsequies to Edward King, drowned by shipwreck, in token of love and remembrance, by his grieving friends') was published to commemorate his life. The last poem of the English section of that book was called, "Lycidas" by John Milton. It was written in 1638, some five or six years after Milton left Christ's College at Cambridge, where he and King met and shared memories that are alluded to in the piece.
Lycidas was to become but one of John Milton's most prodigious poems. Its themes include characters and allegorical expression that represent each layer of the Trinity, as in the natural, human and divine worlds. Milton's references move fluidly from one world and into the next throughout the whole poem. In 1645 Milton revised Lycidas and added to the headnote, "...And by occasion [Lycidas] foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height." In hindsight, this statement became prophetic because in the intervening years between its first publishing and the revision, the corrupt church powers of the day saw an end to their particular flavor of tyranny. It has been said that the poem, in classical elegance and scope, marks a transition in the poet's career akin to apotheosis from mere poet to immortal scribe.
Since the poem's conception it has been labeled an elegy. An elegy is, "an elaborately formal lyric poem lamenting the death of a friend or public figure, or reflecting seriously on a solemn subject." In fact, many scholarly works use Lycidas as the prime example of the elegy despite that numerous elegies were written before it. Lycidas certainly fits into this category well enough, but its author called it something else. In the headnote Milton refers to this poem as a monody, that is, "an elegy, dirge, or lament uttered by a single speaker, or presented as if to be spoken by a single speaker." This label is deceiving until the reader arrives at the very last stanza because up until that point there are many voices speaking unique laments to the fallen. In the last stanza the 'uncouth swain' is introduced as the bard who sang the whole piece into existence.
The purpose in writing Lycidas as an elegy is self-evident. Lycidas, on the surface, was meant to put to voice the tragedy of King's death in a degree comparable to the scholarly and poetic elegance with which he lived his life.
"Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear."
Throughout the work, as each voice comes in its turn, the reader is presented with a process of grieving. There are poignant transitions as each stanza comes and goes. The process seems a typical one, going from an invocation of sacred beings to reminiscence, then to a sense of finality upon realization that the loss is permanent. Blame and exoneration of those blamed follows with an interlude on fame for what could have been of a life lost at such a young age. At this point in the poem Milton begins to explore the divine plane. On line 76 Phoebus interjects to the questioner upon the nature of fame in the Godly realms as if to assuage the questioner's sentiment of the bleak irrelevance that comes with an unfulfilled life. Just as someone whose pain is still fresh would, the questioner hears Phoebus but jumps right back into trying to find a reason for the loss of King. He looks to the beings of import in the natural world:
"And listens to the Herald of the Sea
That came in Neptune's plea,
He ask'd the Waves, and ask'd the Fellon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain?"
Further on in this particular passage Hippotades explains that no force of the natural world is to blame, but that the ship King was on was cursed by its making and found its end for that reason.
"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."
Finally, the questioner begins to see the light, the hope, that the experience of death brings into one's life after it has been accepted and examined. He seems to bring himself to a sense of solace and even peace by realizing that the soul is immortal. King's body is never found and so Milton dubs him 'Genius of the shore' (Spirit of the shore). Thus, King (Lycidas) may watch over, "all that wander in that perilous flood."
Lycidas works well as a demonstration of the grieving process though there are many deeper and more meaningful undertones to be had. This is not to say that this aspect is not important, but just that it is human nature to grieve in such a way and so it seems more of an unconscious structuring than purposeful sequence. Regardless of intention though, Lycidas is more relatable for it.
The entire premise of this poem is built upon the circumstance of Edward King's (Lycidas') premature death. It would not have been written for and what it is if the occasion had not arisen. Thusly, to say it is a manifesto concerning premature death is more than apt. It is so appropriate a theme that Milton uses it to open his great work:
"I come to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,
And with forc'd fingers rude,
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,"



Beyond that, and in lieu of the purity of youth, Milton used the opportunity to exemplify Lycidas' life in classical allegory. He uses the form of the pastoral elegy partly to put into context that purity, the purity of a life lived with good intention, and perhaps to euphemize his subject. By doing so Milton creates a foundation upon which he can more easily paint his characters into the roles that they need to play. For example, he uses Orpheus as a symbol of the potential that is lost when a great soul passes, yet Orpheus' role in the poem is to relay the feeling of helplessness his mother felt when Orpheus was killed and sent adrift on the Hebrus River in pieces.
"Had ye bin there — for what could that have done?
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
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."
Without the stark contrast of the pastoral setting the above section, along with many other pieces of the poem, might lack its sense of tragic intensity. The loss of a loved one is tragic and made even more so when that loved one is young. If this were a poem memorializing the life of someone who lived out their days and accomplished their life's goals it would have a completely different tone. It would tell of their deeds in life and their accomplishments. Instead, Lycidas is bemoaned for the life that he could have lived. The reader takes with him or her that bitter seed only to find that at the poem's end Lycidas' life is not wasted but made eternal in poetic device and by those who cared enough to speak on his behalf.
In the whole of time that passes us by, each life lived is a fleeting spark. Some sparks flicker and fade, and yet others ignite into everlasting fire. All who experience this thing called life do so with their own relative sense of what the nature of life is. What is a poet if not one who is responsible for sharing the nature of his own life through lyric and meter? Throughout Lycidas Milton's perception of the nature of life is powerfully felt. St. Peter, "the Pilot of the Galilean Lake" speaks in his turn to condemn the clergy of that day for their corruption and complacence, malice even, toward the common man (and woman):
"What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,
The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swollen with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:"
The condition and nature of human life en masse is a sad story throughout our recorded history wrought with disaster, starvation, and genocide. As it was in Milton's time, whole groups of people are oppressed for a belief in some arbitrary and highly individualized aspect of their character - religion being the most popular point of contention. Milton moves beyond St. Peter's tirade about life in England in the 1600's to the inward aspect of human nature. He cleverly arrives there by using the natural world as a bridge from the dark and busy world of man to the serenity that imbues the simplicity of nature, however sad the occasion. This is a testament to the power of nature over those who are born to this Earth. It is a part of our being. It is the part that lives again and again as the cycles of time pass. Inasmuch, the human being dies, but the soul does not. Milton shares this sentiment:

"Weep no more, woeful Shepherds weep no more,
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor,
So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,
And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled Ore,
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,"
As for the individual looking outwardly, it is in our nature to want to leave behind some kind of mark so that we are remembered. Many people seek fame. This is especially true of artists who bear their soul so that others may witness a piece of their divine spark. And so, the poet refers to the unfairness of fame being stripped from young Lycidas. In reply, Phoebus explains that true fame is found by living a good life and walking into the afterlife with clear conscience.
"But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears,
And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise,
Phœbus repli'd, and touch'd my trembling ears;
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil
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."
Though all of these categories (elegy, stages of grieving, demonstration of premature death and the nature of human life) are appropriate for the work, the one that most suitably describes it is the elegy/monody. Above all the undertones on the human condition this is a poem lamenting the death of a friend. The other categories are but pieces that serve to fill the depth of its meaning. How death impacts a person, much less a poet, cannot be described in one concept or another but in a mix of emotion and experience that marks one man on his way to lyrical greatness. The lament affords its author that freedom.
More specifically and as afore mentioned, this elegy is a pastoral. The pastoral is defined as, "portraying or suggesting idyllically the life of shepherds or of the country, as a work of literature, art, or music." It is a classical form used by many great authors such as Theocritus and Virgil, to name a few. The name Lycidas is taken directly from Virgil's Eclogues as are many of the allusions in the poem. Milton refers to shepherds and the shepherd's trade explicitly in multiple places. He even goes on to include himself as a fellow shepherd when remembering his and King's time together at Cambridge:
"For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill."
Milton refers to the Mincius, the same river personified by Virgil in his Eclogues, and then goes on to personify Cambridge as Camus in imitation of Virgil. He meant to write a poem that was on par with the great poets, sages, and writers that he and his colleagues had undoubtedly studied. Furthermore, when describing his time at Cambridge there is no reference to the school but that found in pastoral allegory:

"Together both, ere the high Lawns appear'd
Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,
We drove a field, 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'ns 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 Damœtas lov'd to hear our song."
The functional motif of the pastoral devices in Lycidas seems to be to provide profound contrast to the tragedy of its subject. It creates a sense of ultimate duality albeit with shades of grey in between. To the layman then, and still to this day, it is easier to describe the nature of existence in these terms in order to build a faith-based belief system. It is for the more discerning mind to realize that all things come in their own time, good and bad, to teach their soul to grow. Both light and dark fulfill their own function in the oneness of creation. And on yet another level Milton goes on to employ the importance of the Trinity by structuring his poem in smoothly transitioning interaction between the human, natural and divine worlds. Overall, I think that Milton wanted to be remembered alongside the great poets he studied. So he got into his toolbox and found the most elegant of classical forms and mythological references and poured into that mold his immense talent and heartfelt sentiments.
Milton was a learned scholar. Before deciding on his career as a poet he studied to be a minister. In his Christian, Pagan, Roman, and mythological references we can see the breadth of his knowledge on the subject of religion. Most impressively, he even touches on the little-known Celtic spirituality of the old world (Briton) that faded quickly after Rome conquered England.
"Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep
Clos'd o're the head of your lov'd Lycidas?
For neither were ye playing on the steep,
Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly,
Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream:
Ay me, I fondly dream!"
In the Bardic tradition history was passed on by mouth and song; it was rarely written down and thus hard to come by. Yet in his studies Milton had ostensibly come by the story of the Isle of Mona, where Romans raped and pillaged a Druid sanctuary. And he knew the importance of the split in the Deva (River Dee) as one of the most sacred in all Britain. The insight that I took from this particular part, and this is most certainly biased to my own beliefs, comes at the end of the poem. The 'uncouth swain' sang the whole poem. The bard of Druid faith is the storyteller, the narrator, the one who keeps alive the tale of all the faiths, of all events. I think that Milton just might have been a modern (for his time) and closeted bard… though he was fully aware of it.


To analyze a poem like Lycidas is a treat, but to try to put into words all of its ebbs and flows, its genius is impractical liken to explaining relativity to an ant. It is one of those poems that you can read over and over and each time glean something new from. The trouble with understanding it came in the language that Milton uses. Though the words and symbols he utilizes are easy enough to put together, once researched, the context in which it was written is muddied by time, culture, and frame of mind. The true test of poetry is to portray the soul beyond life and times… to speak (write) to its truth and ignite what it touches. Despite the troubles, Milton still does just that… at least he does for me.

Addendum:
While researching Lycidas I came across the, "Biological Register of Christ's College, 1505-1905 and of the Earlier Foundation God's House 1448-1505, Volume 1." And found this written of Edward King "He died calmly praying."


6 " Murphy