(no subject)

[tree_and_leaf]

Well, well, well.

As a result of junomagic's post, I found myself looking for the words to Swinburne's Dolores - you know, 'oh splendid and sterile Dolores, Our Lady of Pain." I shan't repost it, given that it's very much TL:DR, in my view, though I was charmed to discover that this is the origin of 'noble and nude and antique', as well as the hoary old 'from the lilies and languors of virtue/ to the raptures and roses of vice' (though actually I see Swinburne as more in the lilies and languors camp, however vicious). The sort of poem which consists of quotations interspersed with padding.

However: thanks to the wonders of Wikipedia, I have come across a parody of Dolores; not only is it the funniest poem I have ever read about a squid or octopus, but I think I might have found the origin of squidporn. It also rather deflates Swinburne.



Octopus
Strange beauty, eight-limbed and eight-handed,
Whence camest to dazzle our eyes?
With thy bosom bespangled and banded
With the hues of the seas and the skies;
Is thy home European or Asian,
O mystical monster marine?
Part molluscous and partly crustacean,
Betwixt and between.

Wast thou born to the sound of sea trumpets?
Hast thou eaten and drunk to excess
Of the sponges -- thy muffins and crumpets,
Of the seaweed -- thy mustard and cress?
Wast thou nurtured in caverns of coral,
Remote from reproof or restraint?
Art thou innocent, art thou immoral,
Sinburnian or Saint?

Lithe limbs, curling free, as a creeper
That creeps in a desolate place,
To enroll and envelop the sleeper
In a silent and stealthy embrace,
Cruel beak craning forward to bite us,
Our juices to drain and to drink,
Or to whelm us in waves of Cocytus,
Indelible ink!

O breast, that 'twere rapture to writhe on!
O arms 'twere delicious to feel
Clinging close with the crush of the Python,
When she maketh her murderous meal!
In thy eight-fold embraces enfolden,
Let our empty existence escape,
Give us death that is glorious and golden,
Crushed all out of shape!

Ah! thy red lips, lascivious and luscious,
With death in their amorous kiss,
Cling round us, and clasp us, and crush us,
With bitings of agonised bliss;
We are sick with the poison of pleasure,
Dispense us the potion of pain;
Ope thy mouth to its uttermost measure
And bite us again!

By Algernon Charles Sin-Burn

-- Arthur Clement Hilton


† Mind you, the only other one I can recall is The Kraken, and though I am very fond of Tennyson it's hardly a barrel of laughs.

Comments

[parrot-knight.livejournal.com]

On a tangent, I'm watching The Power of Kroll at the moment...

[tree_and_leaf]

How strangely apt! I must confess I've never seen any of thr "Key to Time".

[rustica.livejournal.com]

*boggles*

[tree_and_leaf]

It does pose the inevitable question: why an octopus? I mean "Dolores" screams to be parodied, but the squid element is really rather off the wall...

[rustica.livejournal.com]

No, actually, I hadn't even reached the "why an octopus?" stage. I'm still on "wtf?" :)

[tree_and_leaf]

In retrospect, I think it may be Hilton's way of saying 'WTF?' to Swinburne. Which is not an unreasonable response.... :)

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

In thy eight-fold embraces enfolden,
Let our empty existence escape,
Give us death that is glorious and golden,
Thou beloved of Snape!

There's also The Octopus (http://plagiarist.com/poetry/479/), by Ogden Nash, though rather less in the Swinburnian mode.

[tree_and_leaf]

*chortles* Well, it does mention potions!

Thanks for the link to the Nash - I didn't know it.

[aervir.livejournal.com]

TL; DR sums up most of Swinburne's oeuvre for me (okay, the bits of it I even bothered to try), but the squidporn needs its own beverage warning.

(Edited: Argh! Spelling!)

[tree_and_leaf]

Swinburne is the sort of poet who was very good at coming up with snappy lines, but not at actual poems, in my (jaundiced) view. I know I've read the poem whence comes "Thou hast conquered, O pale Gallilean/ the world has grown pale with your breath" (actually, I think one of those pales is wrong), but I can't remember a thing about it, other than it might have been summarized as "Christianity: do not want."

[aervir.livejournal.com]

I thought it might be "The Garden of Proserpine", but it was actually Hymn to Proserpine (http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/2088.html), and the line is, "the world has grown grey from your breath", FWIW.

The problem with these poems, in my not very humble opinion, is their rhythm. He sticks to the pentameter as well as to perfect rhymes so faithfully that less than ten lines will put you to sleep. Also, far too much alliteration, and a constant repetition of certain keywords and concepts. It's like the department of redundancy department, fin-de-siècle-style.

[tree_and_leaf]

Ah, thank you! I'm surprised he could resist going for alliteration and 'grey Gallilean', but I suppose it might have led to confusion... Although for some reason the second line is reminding me of the Ringwraiths (though I don't think either Tolkien or Swinburne would have liked the comparison).

And you're right about the over-perfection of the rythmn, I think. But it's odd that Swinburne managed to be so boring in poetry when his academic writings are so inflammatory!

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

I've often thought that if I were a teacher/academic, I would have a seminar/lecture on "Bad Bits in Great Poems/Great Bits in Bad Poems" - all the terrific lines in the midst of dross, and the bad lines in the good stuff. I don't care how great "I have promises to keep / And miles to go before I sleep" may be, "My little horse must think it queer / To stop without a farmhouse near" is, I regret to say, pants. Whereas Lucifer in Starlight is a poor poem with a terrific last line.

[tree_and_leaf]

The classic example is the poem about Petra, which begins with the tremendous half-line, which everybody and their dog knows, 'A rose-red city half as old as time'; the rest of the poem having sunk without trace into the sands of Nabatea (or possibly time).

And you're right about the Frost - it's nothing to do with the semantic change, because I thought it was weak even when I was a kid and had no idea that 'queer' could mean anything other than odd (I grew up on old school stories and John Buchan). I think it's possibly partly the cutsey 'little', which has obviously been shoved in to fill a foot.

The Meredith was new to me, though having read it, I'm not surprised I've never come across it. But the last line is excellent.

[nineveh-uk.livejournal.com]

::Looks up Petra:: Gosh, that's bad. No wonder it had

::Smells burning smell. Checks kitchen. Dicovers waffles under grill are on fire. Chucks grill pan and waffles out of window. Is thankful kitchen alarm detects only heat, not smoke.::

- passed me by. I agree about the cutesy Frost. I didn't discover the middle until student days, and it isn't the 'queer' that disrupts, but the sheer naffness of 'my little horse'.

I acquired the Meredith in a book of "Modern Verse", the sort of thing I buy at second-hand booksales, and it's merely indifferent until that last 2 1/2 lines (Actually, I think "the last revolt from Awe" is pretty good, too, but the "brain of heaven" - really, no). On a Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross turns up in the same volumes a lot, and seems more commonly known - I remember a GCSE practice comprehension on it.

[dolabellae.livejournal.com]

I'm sure I remember Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend from some novel or other, and am mildly irritated with myself for not being able to pin it down. Bother.

[ms-wanderlust.livejournal.com]

The only thing I knew about Swinburne, to be honest, was how very weird he was. I took at quick look at Dolores and your summary (TL:DR) was exactly right! But the parody...just excellent! Managed not to get tea on the keyboard, but it was a close thing...

[tree_and_leaf]

Swinburne reminds me of what Beecham said about Wagner 'Some precious moments and some precious boring half hours' (I think it's a bit unfair about Wagner, but on Swinburne...) Glad you enjoyed the parody, anyway - I'm quite taken with it myself.

[dolorous-ett.livejournal.com]

That's amazing - and in a crazy sort of way, I rather like it. Thanks for exposing me it its many-tentacled embrace!

Be careful, it's just trying to lure you into a false sense of security....

[tree_and_leaf]

... so that it can EAT you!

It's rather good, isn't it, in a totally unhinged sort of way? Incidentally, I notice that the bloke who posted 'Dolores' is not only a candidate for political office in Jersey, but a fan of Attila the Stockbroker.

Variations on an air.

[wemyss.livejournal.com]

Excellent stuff, that.

I still believe that the best pastiches of Swinburne (and Whitman, and Tennyson, and so on) were those of GKC, mind.

Re: Variations on an air.

[tree_and_leaf]

GKC is very hard to beat, but I did enjoy this, and it was totally new to me.

[dolabellae.livejournal.com]

In small quantities, Swinburne is a bit of a guilty pleasure - but I agree that he's crying out for parody and the Octopus is marvellous.

The page you link to for Dolores is also great - did you have a click around? Not sure if I'd choose to link to Swinburne on a website backing an election campaign, myself, but I'm delighted to learn of the existence of Where Beards Wag All: The Relevance of the Oral Tradition...

[tree_and_leaf]

That's the most splendidly bonkers candidate's website I've ever seen. I assume he's not going for the Family Values vote†, despite his fondness for George Herbert and Traherene, but I'd vote for

†Not only did he link to Dolores, his own poetry contains a good deal more sex than one expects a politician to admit to - but I rather liked the pantoum about the Turkish market (and it's the only pantoum I have ever encountered in the wild, rather than as a metrical example....)

Where Beards Wag All: The Relevance of the Oral Tradition...

That sounds like it was invented by CS Lewis or JK Rowling, and is, therefore, a Good Thing and I am cheered to hear of it.