On Blank Verse, and on a Prelude to William Cowper.
Teri writes of a poet who’s meant a great deal to her, William Cowper. She cites an interesting poem of his, on the reaction of hunting animals to … well, to what is natural.
He plays a lovely jest with language and almost, dare I say, physics, near the end; I shan’t spoil it, click the link and go read what Teri wrote.
Cowper was an Englishman (1731-1800) who wrote, movingly, both of the great topics of the day, and, very popularly, of simple life in the English countryside. He was also an accomplished hymnist and fervent evangelical Christian.
Indeed, it was this last that was perhaps his salvation from terrible mental illness that plagued him for most of his life. Undeniably brilliant and creative, he was prone to deep depression, and, possibly, schizophrenia.
Flowers are nice, surely?
Now, I rather like Cowper. I’m not certain he’s great art for The Ages, but his language is certainly highly evocative, and he writes with wonderful expression. In short, the kind of poetry that both men and women can like.
He wrote in blank verse: that is to say, in language that did not rhyme, but had a regular meter (rhythm, if you will).
Marlowe and Shakespeare were perhaps the pioneers of this in the English language: Shakespeare (in King John), spectacularly, but dangerously (given less competent imitators who plagued the medium for centuries, and still do today, only we now call it “rock and roll lyrics”) used it at times to convey abrupt thematic and dramatic transitions:
Death?
My lord?
A grave.
He shall not live.
Consider how amazing a break this was with styles of the times, and what a challenge for actors. Verily, Shakespeare was the Quentin Tarantino of his day.
Milton (of Paradise Lost), embraced this form, and its ability to convey complex ideas (outside of drama) with superlative skill. Cowper was accused at times of imitating Milton too much. Given the centuries-long legacy of blank verse, this seems perhaps a tad unfair; certainly, though, Milton was a staggeringly talented exemplar of this during Cowper’s lifetime.
On a similar topic, we can contrast John Bunyan’s rhymed verse, from Pilgrim’s Progress (mostly prose, but with some verse):
But blessed Michael helped me, and I,
By dint of sword, did quickly make him fly.
Therefore to him let me give lasting praise,
And thank and bless his holy name always.
And Milton, writing similarly:
MICHAEL and his Angels prevalent
Encamping, plac’d in Guard thir Watches round,
Cherubic waving fires: on th’ other part
SATAN with his rebellious disappeerd,
Far in the dark dislodg’d, and void of rest,
His Potentates to Councel call’d by night;
Now note the difference. The first is coherently written, well-written. It’s a classic of English Literature. The second, likewise.
But look at the phrases: “void of rest”. “call’d by night”. “Guard thir watches round”.
These are phrases that the poet probably wouldn’t have chosen — certainly not in such a mellifluous flow — were he not to have the privilege of writing blank verse.
And these are magnificent phrases.
On Wolfeday (Which I believe is celebrated on Sunday the 10th of December in 2006), I shall quote a little of Cowper’s poetry, and couple it with a 20th century painting or two (one shown above) that I consider complement the subject matter.
-wolfe
UPDATE: I originally messed up and cited John Buchan, not John Bunyan as author of Pilgrim’s Progress. Buchan was an early 20th century British writer of thrillers; Bunyan wasn’t. Teri kindly corrected me, and it is corrected above in the original text.