docThe Dimensions of the Sense of Loss in Sir Walter Raleigh`s Poetry
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The Dimensions of the Sense of Loss in Sir Walter Raleigh`s Poetry
Kingdom of Saudi Arabia King Saud University Deanship of Higher Studies Department of English The Dimensions of the Sense of Loss in Sir Walter Raleigh’s Poetry A Dissertation Submitted to the Department of English in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Submitted by: Hanna Al-Shaalan 422603100 Under the Supervision of: Professor Syed Asim Ali Second Semester 1429 - 2008 بسم هللا انزحمه انزحيم انممهكت انعزبيت انسعوديت جامعت انمهك سعـود عمادة انذراساث انعهيا قسم انهغت اإلوجهيزيت أبعاد شعـور انفقـذ في شعـز انسـيز وونخز راني قذمج هذي انزسانت اسخكماالً نمخطهباث انحصول عهى درجت انذكخوراي مه قسم انهغت اإلوجهيزيت حخصص أدب مقذمت مه هىاء انشعــالن إشزاف أ .د سيـذ عاصم عهـي انفصم انذراسي انثاوي 2008 - 1429 iii ٍِخض اٌجذش إْ طؼٛد ٚثشٚص اٌغ١ش ٌٚٚزش ساٌ ٟوبْ ثفؼً ػاللزٗ اٌم٠ٛخ ٚاٌذّّ١خ ثبٌٍّىخ إٌ١ضاث١ش األٌٝٚ ثبإلػبفخ إٌ ٝاٌٍّىخ اٌشؼش٠خ اٌز ٟوبْ ٠زّزغ ثٙب ٚاٌزٌ ٟؼجذ دٚسا ِّٙب ف ٟثٕبء ٚرؼظ ُ١رٍه اٌؼاللخ ثّٕٙ١بٌ .زٌه فإْ شؼش اٌغ١ش ساٌ ٟوبْ ثّضبثخ اٌمٛح اٌفبػٍخ ٚاٌذافؼخ ف ٟثٍٛغٗ رٍه إٌّضٌخ اٌشف١ؼخ وأدذ إٌجالء ف ٟثالؽ اًٌّوخٌٚ .ؼً ِب جؼً شؼش اٌغ١ش ساٌِ ٟزّ١ضا ٚفش٠ذا فٛٔ ٟػٗ ٘ ٛرٍه اٌؼاللخ اٌخظٛط١خ ثبٌٍّىخ ٚوزٌه عّبد اٌذت اٌؼف١ف اٌز ٟرغُ شؼش ساٌٚ ٟرذي ػٍِ ٝغض ٜغ١ش رمٍ١ذٞ رّ١ض ثٗ ف ٟشؼشٖ ٚرفٛق ف ٗ١ف ٟلظبئذٖ. إْ رفى١ش اٌغ١ش ساٌِٚ ٟظذس إٌٙبِٗ ٚإششالٗ ٌ١ظ فمؾ ِٓ ٚد ٟاِشأح وزٍه اٌز ٟفٔ ٟظش اٌشؼشاء اٌجزشاو ٓ١١اٌز ٓ٠رؼٛدٚا أْ ٠غشلٛا إٌغبء ف ٟأشؼبسُ٘ ثبإلػجبة ٚاٌذت ٚاٌٌٚ ٌٗٛىٓ ٘زٖ اٌّشأح فٟ ٔظش اٌغ١ش ساٌِ ٟب ٘ ٟإال ٍِىخ ػز١ذح ١ِٙٚجخ ٌذٙ٠ب اٌغٍطبْ ٚاٌمٛح ٚاإلسادح ٌزٕفغ اٌشخض أ ٚرؼشٖ أ ٚرٕؼُ ػٍ ٗ١أ ٚرذِشٖ .ث١ذ أْ رٍه اٌمٛح ّ٠ىٓ أْ رٛػغ رذذ اٌزجشثخ ث١ٙبَ ساٌ ٟثبِشأح أخش ٜرٌه اٌ١ٙبَ اٌز ٞسثّب ٠أخز ِٕؼطفب خط١شا ٔذ ٛرذط ُ١آِبٌٗ ٚرذِ١ش د١برٗ و١ف ال ٚلذ أػذ ٝرٌه اٌّفؼً ٚاٌّمشة ٌذ ٜاٌٍّىخ ِجشد صٚط الِشأح أخشٌ .ٜمذ خبؽش ساٌ ٟثىً شئ ػٕذِب ألذَ ػٍٝ صٚاجٗ عشا ِٓ اِشأح أدجٙب رذػ( ٝث١ظ) ثٍّىزٗ ِٚمذسارٗ ٚدش٠زٗ ثً سثّب ٚثّظ١شٖ ٚد١برٗ أ٠ؼب. إْ ٔجبح ٚػٍِ ٛىبٔخ اٌغ١ش ساٌ٠ ٟؼزّذ ػٍ ٝسػب ٚاسر١بح اٌٍّىخ ٔذٚ ٖٛوّب ٘ ٛدبي ِؼظُ إٌجالء فإْ ِغزمجً ساٌِ ٟش٘ ْٛوٍ١ب ث١ذ اٌٍّىخ إر أْ اعز١بء٘ب ٚػذَ سػب٘ب سثّب ٠جش خٍفٗ ػٛالت ٚخّ١خ. إْ ِؼظُ أشؼبس ساٌ ٟرٕظت فٚ ٟطف ػاللزٗ ثبٌٍّىخ ٚاٌز ٟرّزٍه اٌمذسح ػٍ ٝإثمبء اٌذ١بح أٚ صٚاٌٙبٚ ،رجؼب ٌزٌه اعزخذَ ساٌ ٟسِٛصا ل٠ٛخ ف ٟشؼشٖ ٌ١جشص رٍه اٌذمبئك اٌؼبؽف١خ األعبع١خ ٌؼبٌّٗ اٌّؼطشة ٔز١جخ ٌٍؼ١بع اٌز ِٟٕ ٞثٗ ٚاػطش ٌزذٍّٗ ِٚؼبٔبرٗ. إْ ِؼبٔبح اٌغ١ش ساٌ ٟادزٛد ٔطبلب ػش٠ؼب ِٓ ػمذح اإلدظاط ثبٌ٠ٛٙخ ،إْ إدغبعٗ ثزارٗ ثذا ٚوأٔٗ ال ّ٠ىٓ أزضاػٗ ٚفظٍٗ ِٓ دٚسٖ وأدذ االسعزمشاؽ ٓ١١إٌجالء ف ٟدبش١خ اٌٍّىخ .إْ ػّك اٌؼ١بع اٌز٠ ٞىّٓ ف ٟرارٗ ٠جؼٍٗ ٠شؼش ثأٔٙب ٌُ رؼذ لبدسح ػٍ ٝإ٠جبد االٔؼىبط اٌّضبٌٌٍ ٟذٚس اٌؼبؽف ٟاٌزٞ ٠زمّظٗ .إْ ٘٠ٛخ ساٌ ٟاعزضّشد ف ٟو ٗٔٛاسعزمشاؽ١ب ِٓ ؽجمخ إٌجالء ٚدشِبٔٗ ِٓ ٘زٖ اٌظفخ لذ iv رؼٕ ٟرذاػ١ب ٚأ١ٙبسا ربِب ٌىً ػبٌّٗ اٌز٠ ٞؼ١ش فٌ ،ٗ١زٌه ف ٟلظ١ذرٗٚ" :داػب ٌٍجالؽ" رالشذ ِزؼزٗ اٌشخظ١خٚ .ثؼذ صٚاجٗ اٌغش ٞظٍذ جٛٙد سأٌ ٟذ ٛاٌجمبء لش٠جب ِٓ اٌٍّىخ ٌٚىٓ اٌفشً اٌزِٟٕ ٞ ثٗ ف ٟاٌذفبظ ػٍ٘ ٝزٖ اٌؼاللخ أفشصد ٚادذح ِٓ أسٚع أخٍ١زٗ اٌشؼش٠خ عّٛا ٚإثذاػب " :اٌٛادذ ٚاٌؼشش ٚ :ْٚاٌىزبة األخ١ش ٌٍّذ١ؾ إٌ ٝعٕ١ض١ب" .إْ أدبع١ظ اٌؼ١بع ٌذ ٜساٌ ٟأظٙشد أثؼبد اٌمغٛح ٚاٌشذح ف ٟد١برٗ ٔظشا السرجبؽٗ اٌذّ ُ١ثجالؽ اٌٍّىخِٚ ،غ أْ رٌه االسرجبؽ اٌٍّىِٙ ٟذ ٌٗ اٌذظٛي ػٍ ٝاٌىض١ش ِٓ اإلٔؼبَ ٚاٌّّ١ضاد ث١ذ أٔٗ دشِٗ أ٠ؼب اٌىض١ش ِٓ اٌّزغ األخش ٜاٌز٠ ٟطّخ ٌٙب ٠ٚزٛق إٌٙ١ب :االدزمبس اٌٍّىٍ٠ ٌُ ٟذك أر ٜػبؽف١ب ثشاٌ ٟفذغت ٌٚىٓ رجؼب ٌمٛأ ٓ١اٌٍّه جّ١ظ األٚي فمذ جشدٖ رٌه ِٓ وً إدشاصارٗ اٌفىش٠خ ِٚمزٕ١برٗ اٌّبد٠خ ٚأٚسدٖ إٌ ٝاٌٙالن .إْ ايشؼش اٌزٞ وزجٗ ساٌ٠ ٟظف أصش اٌزّضق اٌز ٞخٍفٗ ػ١بع اٌىض١ش ِّب دظً ػٍ ِٓ ٗ١أجبصاد غبٌ١خ ،فبٌجالؽ ف ٟدذ رارٗ ٘ ٛد١بح ثبٌٕغجخ ٌشاٌ ٟال ّ٠ىٓ االعزٙبٔخ ثٗ أ ٚاٌزخٍ ٟػٕٗ ٚإْ ِجشد اٌجؼذ ػٕٗ ٚدشِبٔٗ ِٕٗ ِؼٕبٖ اٌّٛد ٚاٌفٕبء ٌٗ عٛاء ثّؼٕبٖ اٌذم١م ٟأ ٚاٌّجبص.ٞ ٚػٍ ٝإٌم١غ ِٓ اٌشؼشاء ا٢خش ٓ٠اٌز ٓ٠وشعٛا دِّٛ٠خ اٌمظ١ذح اٌشؼش٠خ ٠جذ ٚأْ ساٌ٠ ٌُ ٟغزطغ أْ ٠جذ اٌشادخ فِٛ ٟاجٙخ اٌزذاػٚ ٟاالٔذطبؽ ٠ ٌُٚأًِ ف ٟإغشاءاد ٔجبدبد لظ١شح األِذ .إْ أوضش اٌّالِخ ثشٚصا ّٕ١٘ٚخ ف ٟشؼش ساٌ ٟرزّضً فِ ٟؼٚ ٟرغبسع اٌضِٓ ٚاٌذظٛظ اٌّزغ١شح ٚاٌّشهٚو١خ اٌّزمٍجخ ٚاٌزذاػٚ ٟاٌفٕبء ،فؼٍ ٝعج ً١اٌّضبي ف ٟاٌمظ١ذح" :اٌطج١ؼخ اٌز ٟغغٍذ ٠ذٙ٠ب ثبٌذٍ١ت" اٌضِٓ "ألفً لظخ أ٠بِٕب" ( ِٓٚ .)37خالي األدذاس اٌخبطخ ٚاٌّالدظبد اٌّشرجطخ ثبٌزظشفبد اإلٔغبٔ١خ ٚاٌٛجٙبد اٌز ٟأزٙذ إٌٙ١ب أػّبٌٗ فإْ رٌه ٠شىً األعبط ٌٍزؼشف ػٓ وضت ػٍ ٝػّك رجبسثٗ اٌشخظ١خ ف ٟد١برٗ ٚاٌز ٟرزّذٛس دٛي :اٌجّبي اٌز٠ ٞزٚ ٞٚأطذلبء اٌغٛء؛ ٚأخ١شا اِ٢بي اٌز ٟرزّضق ػجضب ٚرزطب٠ش ٘جب ًء ٚ .وّب ٠ؼجش ثذشلخ ٚدغشح ف " ٟاٌّخطٛؽ األٚي ٌٍزٛعً ٌٍٍّىخ آْ"" ,وٕب فٚ ٟلذ ِؼٔ ٌُٚ ٝؼذ ش١ئب ثؼذ رٌه" (ٚ .)19ف ٟاٌذم١مخ فإْ ِشبػش ساٌٟ راد اٌذغبع١خ اٌشل١مخ ٚاٌّشبػش اٌّزٕب٘١خ رجبٖ اٌفمذ ٚاٌؼ١بع رشىً األعبط ٌّؼظُ ِظب٘ش اٌزٛجغ ٚاألٌُ ٚعّبد اٌذغشح ٚاألع ٝف ٟأشؼبسٖ ٚلظبئذٖ. ال شه أْ رجبسة اٌفمذ اٌز ٟخبع غّبس٘ب اٌشبػش ساٌِٙ ٟذد اٌطش٠ك العزجبثخ اإلثذاع اٌشؼشٞ ٌزٌه اٌفمذ .إْ عٛء اٌذع أػف ٜػٍ ٝشؼش سأٌ ٟجشاد شخظ١خ ِّ١ضحٚ ،ف ٟثؼغ اٌٍذظبد ٠ظجخ ِٓ اٌّغزذ ً١فظً اإلٔغبْ ػٓ شخظ١زٗ اٌشؼش٠خ .إْ إدغبط ساٌ ٟاٌّش٘ف ٌٍفمذ ٠شىً األعبط ٌّظب٘ش اٌذضْ اٌز ٟأػذذ اٌغّخ اٌغبئذح ف ٟشؼشٖ ثً اٌطؼبَ اٌز ٞرزغز ٜثٗ ٚرؼ١ش ػٍ .ٗ١إْ اٌفمذ v ٌ ٛٙثّضبثخ اإلٌٙبَ اٌز٠ ٞغز ٞإثذاع اٌشبػش ٠ضٚدٖ ثبٌؼٛاؽف ٚاألدبع١ظ ٌٕ١طٍك شؼشٖ إٌٙبِب ٚإثذاػب. ٌمذ دٛي ساٌ ٟػاللزٗ اٌشخظ١خ اٌّؼطشثخ ِغ اٌجالؽ اٌٍّى ٟإٌ ٝشؼش٠ذى ٟػٓ اٌذت ٚاٌضِبْ ٚاٌفٕبءٌٚ ،زٌه أطجذذ لظبئذ ساٌ ٟرّضً أػظُ اإلٔجبصاد االثذاػ١خ اٌّشٛٙدح ثبإلػبفخ إٌ ٝوٙٔٛب أثٍغ رؼج١ش ِجبشش ألدبع١غٗ اٌشخظ١خ ٚاٌز ٟأػفذ ٘ ٟاألخشٛٔ ٜػب ِٓ اٌزؼج١ش ػٓ شمبئٗ ِٚؼبٔبرٌٗ .مذ أد١ذ أشؼبس ساٌ ٟأصِٕخ ِشٛٙدح ف ٟطفذبد اٌزبس٠خ ٚأػبدد اٌشٚح إٌ ٝوً ِشح رٍ١ذ فٙ١ب رٍه اٌظفذبد .إٕٔب وض١شا ِب ٔغّغ ٍّٔٚظ اٌؼبؽفخ ٚاٌشذح ٚاالدجبؽ اٌز٠ ٞغٍف د١بح ساٌ،ٟ ٚػٕذِب ٠هرت ساٌ ٟػٓ اٌغخؾ ٚاٌٙضّ٠خ فإْ صّخ رغٍ١ؾ ػٍ ٝاٌغٛص ف ٟأػّبق اٌزجبسة اٌز ٟرؼجش ػٓ االٔمغبَ إٌفغ ٟاٌز٠ ٞخززُ رذٛالرٙب اٌفٍغف١خ ٚاٌشٚد١خ ػٍ ٝدذ عٛاء. ِٚغ رٌه فإْ اٌفمذ اٌؼبَ ٌإلِىبٔبد اٌز ِٟٕ ٞثٗ اٌغ١ش ساٌٚ ٟخبع رجبسثٗ رذذ رأص١ش اٌزغٍؾ اٌٍّىٟ ٚاٌّؼبٔبح اٌزٌ ٟذمذ ثٗ جشاء رٌه فإْ شخظ١زٗ اٌشؼش٠خ لٍجذ ِٛاص ٓ٠رٌه اٌفمذ ٚدٌٛزٗ إٌ ٝوغت د ٓ١ؽفك ثزذ ً٠ٛأشؼبسٖ إٌِ ٝؼبٌُ ٚآصبس خبٌذح رذى ٟػٓ اٌفمذ ٚاٌؼ١بع .إْ أألفىبس اٌّزٛارشح اٌزٟ رؼزًّ ف ٟر٘ٓ ساٌٚ ٟرذى ٟػٓ إدجبؽ اٌشخظ١خ ٚاألٌُ اٌز ٞرذذصخ ل ٜٛخبسج١خ ثؼ١ذح ػٓ رذىّٗ ٚع١طشرٗ رٕذظش ف ٟؽشٚدبد ِضً (اٌضِٓ ٚاٌش١خٛخخ ٚاٌٙشَ ٚاٌضشٚح ٚاٌجبٖ ٚاٌغشائض اٌغش٠جخ ٚاأل٘ٛاء اٌّزمٍجخ ٚاٌفغبد االجزّبػ ،ٟإٌخ)٘ٚ ،زٖ اٌطشٚدبد ِٙذد اٌطش٠ك ٔذ ٛرىش٠ظ رِ ٞغضٜ ِٚؼٌٍٕ ٝخ١بساد اٌّزبدخ اٌّفزٛدخ أِبِٗ ٌٕ١فغ ػٓ ٔفغٗ ٠ٚض٠خ ػٓ وبٍ٘ٗ أػجبء اٌذضْ ٚاألع، ٝ ٌزٌه فإْ رؼج١ش ساٌ ٟػٓ اٌفمذ ٚاٌؼ١بع أػذِٛ ٝئال ٌ١ظ العزؼبدح اٌمٛح ٌزارٗ ٚرؼبف ِٓ ٗ١رٍه ا٢فبد فذغت ٌٚىٕٗ شب٘ذ لٌّٛ ٞٛدرٗ ٚإخالطٗ ٚرفبٌٍٍّٔ ٗ١ىخ إٌ١ضاث١ش. إْ ِغضٚ ٜدالٌخ ٘زٖ األؽشٚدخ (اٌشعبٌخ) ٕ٠ذظش ثشىً سئ١ظ ف ٟاعزمظبئٌ ٟى١ف١خ اٌزذٛي ِٓ دبالد اٌ١أط ٚاإلدجبؽ ٚاٌمٕٛؽ اٌز ٟرذذصٙب ٚرغّٙب ػٛاًِ اٌفمذ ٚاٌؼ١بع ٌذ ٜاٌشبػش إٌ ٝط١بغبد جّبٌ١خ سائؼخ رٕؼىظ ف ٟلٛاٌت شؼش٠خ خبٌذح. vi Abstract Sir Walter Raleigh‘s rise was enhanced and augmented by his courtship of Queen Elizabeth I, with poetry playing an important part therein. Raleigh‘s poems are, therefore, an important force in his rising to eminence at the Court. What makes Raleigh's poetry more unique is his special relationship to the Queen, and so the conventions of courtly love take on unconventional significance in Raleigh's poetry. His muse, his source of life and light, is not just any lady of Petrarchan or courtly adoration, but a mighty Queen—one with the power to make or destroy. Such powers would be tested by his love for another woman; that love was to have the most devastating impact on every aspect of his life, for the Queen‘s favorite became another woman‘s husband. Raleigh risked everything to secretly marry the woman (Bess) he loved—his Queen, his fortunes, his freedom, and very nearly his life. His success depended on the Queen‘s support, and as in the case of most courtiers, Raleigh‘s future lay utterly in the Queen‘s hands; her displeasure entailed a severe professional setback. Many of Raleigh‘s poems involve descriptions of his relationship with the Queen who possessed powers of life and death. Consequently, Raleigh employed powerful symbols to represent the basic emotional realities of his troubled world brought on by the losses he is forced to endure. Raleigh‘s grief encompasses the range of a courtier‘s complex sense of identity. His sense of self seems to be inextricable from his role as a courtier. His deepest loss is that of a part of his inner self leaving him no longer able to find its idealized reflection in his courtly role. Raleigh‘s vii identity is invested in being a courtier, and to cease being one meant the collapse of his entire world. Hence in ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ his persona‘s ―ioyes [have] expired‖ (1). After his secret marriage, Raleigh‘s effort to remain close to the Queen and then his failure to do so result in his composing one of his most towering poetic achievements—The 21st: and last booke of the Ocean to Scinthia. Raleigh‘s loss, therefore, reveals the intensity of his life because of his close connection with the Court. While his access to the royalty gave him a great deal, it also took as much away from him: royal disdain not only hurt Raleigh emotionally, but under King James I it also stripped him of his material achievements and proved fatal. The poetry he writes exposes the shattering effect of losing all that he held dear, because for Raleigh the Court was life itself, and to be banished from the Court was death—both literally and metaphorically. Unlike other poets who assert the permanence of their verse, Raleigh apparently could find no comfort in the face of decay, nor hope in the elusiveness of short-lived successes. Devouring time, changeable fortune, mutability, decay, and death are the themes that predominate Raleigh's poetry. For instance, in ―Nature that washt her hands in milke,‖ Time ―shutts up the story of our dayes‖ (37). As particular events and observations regarding human actions and destiny run throughout his work, they form the basis for his deepest personal experiences of life: beauty that withers; friends who prove treacherous; and ultimately, hopes that are shattered. As he so poignantly expresses in ―Conjecvral First Draft of the Petition to Qveen Anne,‖ ―What we some tyme were we seeme noe More‖ (19). Indeed, Raleigh‘s heightened sense of loss forms the basis for most of the moroseness in his poetry. These experiences of loss give way to his viii artistic/poetic response to it. Misfortune gave Raleigh‘s poems a distinctly personal voice. In some instances it becomes impossible to separate the man from his persona. Raleigh‘s heightened sense of loss forms the basis for most of the sadness in his poetry which becomes its chief food. Loss feeds the poet‘s art, giving him deep emotions to explore and communicate poetically. Raleigh transformed his troubled personal relationship with the royalty into a poetic consideration of love, time, and mortality. Raleigh's verse, therefore, represents his most memorable artistic achievement, as well as the most direct expressions of his personal sensibilities, which lend expression to his suffering. Raleigh‘s poetry animates a significant time in history and breathes life into it every time that it is read. We overhear and re-live the passion, intensity, and frustration that embody Raleigh‘s life. As Raleigh writes of disappointment and defeat, there is an emphasis on exploring the inner experiences of the divided and tormented self culminating in its philosophical as well as spiritual transformation. However, with the generalized loss of possibilities he experiences under royal domineering and the suffering that ensues, Raleigh‘s persona paradoxically turns his loss into gain by turning his verse into a monument to loss. The recurrent theme of the persona‘s frustration and harassment by forces beyond his control (Time, old age, fortune, royal whimsicality and capriciousness, social corruptions, etc.) finally gives way to a more purposeful emphasis on the existing alternatives open to him to allay his grief. Therefore, Raleigh‘s narration of loss becomes a strategy of not only his empowerment and recuperation, but a powerful testimony to his love and ix devotion for Queen Elizabeth. The significance of the thesis lies mainly in my exploration of this very process of the transformation of despondency brought on by loss into the beauty and universality of poetic expression. x Acknowledgements First and foremost, all praises and thanks be to Allah. I wish to thank my advisor Professor Syed Asim Ali. I am so grateful for his guidance, support, and kindness. I feel honored to have had the chance to work with him. I would also like to extend my appreciation to the Professors who have given me the opportunity to learn: Abla Yahya, Ahmad Ardat, Ezzatt Khatab, Ibtisam Sadeq, and Saad Al-Bazei. I am grateful to them all for benefiting from them. Finally, I wish to express my immense love and gratitude to my supportive family, especially my loving father. xi Table of Contents Arabic Abstract .............................................................................................. iii English Abstract............................................................................................. vi Acknowledgements..........................................................................................x Chapter I Introduction: Sir Walter Raleigh‘s Poetry of Loss ..........................................1 Notes, Chapter I .............................................................................................45 Chapter II Struggling With Insecurity and Loss .............................................................48 Notes, Chapter II ............................................................................................84 Chapter III The Voice Behind the Loss ...........................................................................85 Notes, Chapter III ........................................................................................145 Chapter IV Love and Loss ..............................................................................................147 Notes, Chapter IV ........................................................................................219 Chapter V Raleigh: From Loss to Final Peace ..............................................................221 Notes, Chapter V .........................................................................................273 Conclusion ..................................................................................................275 xii Primary Works Cited ...................................................................................282 Secondary Works Cited ...............................................................................285 Secondary Works Consulted .......................................................................297 1 Chapter I Introduction—Sir Walter Raleigh‘s Poetry of Loss ―But as tyme gave, tyme did agayne devoure‖ (Scinthia 247) 2 This study shows how the experience of loss inspired Sir Walter Raleigh‘s most representative poetry. The core of his poetry was formed by a sense of loss of favor and fear of imminent death; the deep sadness that corresponds with such loss is palpable. Surrounding Raleigh‘s forlorn speakers are accounts and descriptions of the loss of life, love, liberty, patronage, homeland, freedom, faith, and even inspiration. Indeed, the purpose in approaching Raleigh from the vantage point of the losses that he suffered which percolated down to his poetic subconscious and prompted his poetic expression, is to seek a new appreciation of the poet. Raleigh endured loss of favor, imprisonment and, later under James I, charges of treason and execution. Hence, his speakers are immersed in intense grief and the poems often embody the very essence of loss. In ―My Boddy in the Walls Captived,‖ Raleigh‘s persona used to possess ―loves fire, and bewtes light…‖ (10), but now ―that food, that heat, that light [he] finde[s] no more‖ (12). Similarly, the persona in ―As Yov Came From the Holy Land‖ bemoans the loss of love because ―loue lykes not the fallyng frute / From the wythered tree‖ (27-28). With the accession of James I, Raleigh‘s persona ―sits in sorrowes shade‖ (―Conjectvral First Draft of the Petition of Qveen Anne‖ 36). The grief the personae experience in these poems is an acute response to the loss of falling short of the royal favor, because there is hardly any joy greater than being selected as the Queen‘s favorite, and hardly any pain greater than being ousted from that coveted position. Raleigh‘s verse conveys the experience of loss in many of its forms. Raleigh mourns the sorrows of love, mortality, confinement, and loss of favor, and sees them all as fuel for poetry. The losses in his life propel him to write and thus transform those crippling experiences into pathways for his 3 inner journey rather than let him be passively consumed by despair and resentment. The fuel of shattered and frustrated dreams, for instance, drove Raleigh to write outside the dominant cultural tradition of pastoralism with devastating effect. ―The Nimphs reply to the Sheepheard‖ is a significant example of how Raleigh subverts the Pastoral: the nymph speaks of the mutability of nature and undercuts the idyllic desire for eternal youth and love. Thus, poems such as ―The Nimphs reply‖ become a creative outlet; many people feel joy, many people experience love, many people know death, and many people feel grief, but only poets have been able to create lasting poetry out of those experiences and emotions. His poetic treatment of the subject, outside the scope of scientifically precise answers, allowed him to transcend his immediate situation and see meaning in loss. He dropped by the deep wells of grief and loneliness and experienced first-hand the temporality and finitude of an indifferent world. Raleigh‘s sadness represents the healthy response of a poet to his own misfortune. Reflected in his poetry is an artist‘s response to the loss of his social roles, wherein he appears as a dashing courtier once envied by other courtiers for his close connections to the Queen. As a result of being ousted from his exalted place in the Court, Raleigh realized what he had lost and harbored an acute yearning for its retrieval. He turned to his poetry for help and comfort like others turn to a trusted confidant. All of the poems discussed in this thesis are, one way or another, related to a central theme of his sense of loss, with Raleigh struggling with this dominant theme. While loss may abound in the work of other poets of the age, nowhere does it seem as personal and bitter as it does in the poetry of Raleigh. In the poetry of Sidney, Spenser, Shakespeare, and Donne (to 4 name but a few of his contemporaries) the observation that something in life and love is lost and/or dead is frequently encountered. Ralph Houlbrooke offers an explanation: In an age without centralized medical care, death normally occurred in the home, under the administrative vigil of family members. Serious illness, injury and the often protracted process of dying ensured that all people would from time to time literally live with the reality of death and its associated grief. The care of the critically ill and dying necessitated numerous preparatory arrangements that signaled the approaching death. In addition to the fact that the process of mourning often did begin during the fatal illness, one of the most important features of life in the sixteenth century was the way in which people prepared themselves for death, both their own and the death of those nearest to them. (128) Spenser wrote the Ruines of Time and appears to have planned an entire book of The Faerie Queene around the issue of mutability. Time the destroyer is found in the moral verse histories such as Michael Drayton's The Barrons Wars (1603). ―Time‖ seems to be Shakespeare's single most pervasive subject in his poetry. Shakespeare calls time a thief, a ―bloody tyrant‖ (―Sonnet 16‖), a waster who is envious, injurious, inexorable, and fatal. He addresses it as ―Devouring time‖ (―Sonnet 19‖), and ―eater of youth‖ (Lucrece 917). But in the poetry of Raleigh, it is as though ―…Tyme which takes in trust/ Our yowth, our Ioys, and all we haue,/ And payes vs butt with age and dust‖ (―Euen such is tyme,‖ 1-3) has something against 5 Raleigh personally. Raleigh takes a dim view of the fundamental conditions of human life. Thus, Raleigh‘s poetry of loss is the expression of his total personality with all its divergent aspects: his emotional, intellectual, and spiritual features are assimilated within the confines of a poem. His emotion does not overpower his intellect as it sometimes does in the case of the Romantic poets; nor does his intellect keep his emotions in check as happens generally with the Augustan poets. In Raleigh‘s work, intellect and emotion coexist as a dynamic poetic amalgam. His themes, images, symbols, metaphors, and poetic sensibilities encompass the breadth of a difficult life. For Lascelles Abercrombie: What impels a poet to express himself is the importance a thing has for him; and that is nothing but the whole pattern of connexion and relation it has with other things—including, of course, the poet‘s own feelings. The poet is the man who sees in things an unusual degree of significance and unusual complexity of fine and strong relationship with things far and near . . . . He is therefore typically the poet who is moved to express . . . the whole scope and style of his personal experience, the whole stature and attitude of his personal existence. (225-26) The sorrow and loneliness of not only his declining years but prematurely declining years are presented through the form of personal experience. He is familiar with the despair of troubled relationships, unexpected traumas, and the resultant inner void, and terror. In The 21st: And Last Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia, the speaker‘s ―discumforts without end‖ (20) culminate 6 in his being ―alone, forsaken, frindless‖ (89). As much as joy, wonder, and love, dark and negative emotions such as loneliness and forsakenness arising from loss are part of our human lot, however much we may wish they were not. There is irony in Raleigh's poetry, but beyond the irony is the sadness of a man who dreams of everything knowing full well that ultimately it will all be reduced to rubble. The general attitude embodied in his poems is rooted in a deep sense of disillusionment, disappointment, and defeat. In Chapter Two, therefore, I examine how the hostile atmosphere of the Court is most eloquently expressed in poems related to the speaker‘s sense of insecurity and injured merit. His despair is presented in terms of a lost object, the sadness of whose loss also formed the poetic subject. Raleigh‘s sadness is a normal response of a poet to his own misfortune. Indeed, he suffers enough losses to warrant his despair. Unlike other poets who assert the permanence of verse, Raleigh seems reluctant to recognize any softening of time, which ―shuts up the story of our dayes‖ (―Euen such is tyme‖ 6). He apparently could find no comfort in the face of decay, nor hope in the elusiveness of short-lived successes. Misfortune gave Raleigh‘s poems a distinctly personal voice. In his article, ―The Poetry of Sir Walter Raleigh‖ (1960), Peter Ure contrasts Raleigh‘s poetry with that of Spenser and emphasizes that ―the court is Raleigh‘s own ground . . . and his poems . . . have a note of personal feeling which is not present when Spenser writes of his retirement from it‖ (20-21). Raleigh‘s speaker expresses a more complex and realistic understanding of life that is subject to hardship and the inevitable progression of time. As Agnes 7 Latham has noted, it is perhaps ―just because he threw himself so wholeheartedly into all [life] had to offer, he was almost morbidly aware of its transience‖ (19). But Latham only scratches the surface, for Raleigh reveals a weariness of life's trials and tribulations born from the countless losses he had to endure. He describes his loss in The 21st: And Last Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia in epic similes: As if when after Phebus is dessended And leues a light mich like the past dayes dawninge, And every toyle and labor wholy ended Each livinge creature draweth to his restinge (97 - 100) That the poems are increasingly grim is not surprising for a man who saw his chief rival executed in 1601, and who, in 1603 would himself be given the death penalty. Consequently, many of Raleigh‘s poems involve descriptions of his relationship with the Queen who possessed powers of life and death. Loss is an important aspect of Raleigh‘s life because of his close connection with the court. While his access to the royalty gave him a great deal, it also took as much away from him: royal disdain not only hurt Raleigh emotionally, but also stripped him of his material achievements and proved fatal. The poetry he writes reveals the shattering effect of losing all that he held dear. So, in Chapter Three, I have categorized Raleigh‘s poems in accordance with his relationship with the Queen: the compositions written before 1589 are referred to as the ―Favorite Courtier‖ pieces while the verse written after his 1589 disgrace is classified as ―Fallen Courtier‖ poetry. 8 Another equally important characteristic of Raleigh‘s poetry is the negation of life's positive possibilities; the poems consistently end on a note of pessimism. In his compositions, time is rarely related to the carpe diem theme or love poems in general, as are so many poems of the age. The 21st: And Last Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia, for example, is an elegy on the death of the speaker's joys: ―ioyes vnder dust that never live agayne‖ (4). And those joys die the languishing death portrayed in the images of the poem because Cynthia's love, the analogue to the beams of the sun, and more broadly to a generalized source of life, have been denied the persona. This Cynthia, this source of life and light, is not just any lady of Petrarchan or courtly adoration, the speaker tells us, but a mighty Queen—one with the power to create or destroy. It is she, metaphorically the immutable sun that constitutes ―the seat of ioys, and loues abvndance‖ (44). The persona‘s withered mind is not widowed of a lover, but ―widdow of all the ioys it once possest‖ (86). For Raleigh‘s persona, the passage of time is related to loss and bitter grief: The bancks of roses smellinge pretious sweet, Haue but ther bewties date, and tymely houres, And then defast by winters cold, and sleet, So farr as neather frute nor forme of floure Stayes for a wittnes what such brances bare But as tyme gave, tyme did agayne devoure And chandge our risinge ioy to fallinge care. (242-48) As will be seen in Chapter Four, these lines from The 21st: And Last Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia show the persona‘s ability to fuse intense personal 9 feeling with a larger vision by transforming his individual plight into the universal struggle of man‘s fight against Time and Death. Such images not only give poetic expression to the transience of the speaker‘s world, but by implicitly relating his subjective experiences to governing laws of nature, they also emphasize his plight as he engages such forces as Monarchs, fate, and fortune, which are beyond his control. His images portray a vivid account of a man‘s psychological struggle with grief. Raleigh‘s poetry was tuned to a particular golden moment, and when that moment ceased to exist, his poetry began to reflect his chaotic and often perilous existence of one too often ―slayne with sealf thoughts, amasde in fearfull dreams‖ (Scinthia 19). His ensuing state of mind therefore is central to Chapter Five, in which certain psychological approaches are employed. I use some principles of psychoanalysis in explicating Raleigh‘s poetry because such an approach provides an understanding of some of the mental processes characteristic of grief resulting from loss. In The Nature of Grief, John Archer notes: We normally think of grief as occurring in the context of bereavement, the loss of a loved one through death, but a broadly similar reaction can occur when a close relationship is ended through separation, or when a person is forced to give up some aspect of life that was important . . . grief can be described as a natural human reaction, since it is a universal feature of human existence irrespective of culture, although the form and intensity its expression takes varies considerably. (1) In the poems written after his disgrace, Raleigh‘s persona describes himself as one ―with many wounds...‖ (Scinthia 90). His sadness is a symptom of 10 his wound. Just as physical wounds require attention, so do emotional wounds. Indeed, Raleigh did not choose grief, but was rather chosen by grief. The poetry he writes, therefore, is the emotional outpouring of a defeated and grief-stricken speaker; one who, because of the circumstances in which he finds himself, refers to himself through his verse as one ―whom Life and people haue abandond‖ ( ―Conjectvral First Draft of the Petition to Qveen Anne‖ 11). Faithless friends, devouring time, changeable fortune, mutability, decay, and death—these themes dominate Raleigh's poems. His themes are nearly all concerned with concepts of time, love, and honor, or more aptly combinations of them. A concern for the antics of time is the most prevalent of these subjects. Raleigh's own voice comes in part from his preoccupation with destructive aspect of time, his subversion of convention in order to stress that preoccupation, and his belief that faithfulness and loyalty offer the only sustainable values in a mutable world. Raleigh‘s poetic expression of the disappointment and defeat that await all humanity may be a commonplace theme in an age that was deeply conscious of life‘s brevity; the genius of Raleigh however, elevates ordinary truths into unforgettable phrases. It is the tone of unmitigated despair regarding mortality and loss which differentiates Raleigh's persona from other speakers of the period, who voice their grief at transience. If anything is characteristic of Raleigh's love poetry, it is the insistence with which he keeps coming back to the effects of fortune and the fact of decay. His poems are unconventional in that they do not depict images that forewarn the impending loss of youth and beauty in order to seduce the lady, or to 11 marry her, or to take advantage of her. Rather, the gloomy contemplation of the destructive role of time and the reflection on the devouring nature of time, provide a complete contrast with, for example, Marvell‘s attitude in the poem ―To His Coy Mistress.‖ There, the brevity of life is an excuse to hasten the courtship; here, with Raleigh, the brevity of life is felt most in the transience of short-lived successes, where life is consequently mired by dejection, defeat, and despair. For instance, as will be discussed in more detail in Chapter II, a poem such as ―Nature that washt her hands in milke,‖ relates how beauty, as of all things, ends in the grave. The poem, which starts out as a fairly conventional praise of a lady's beauty and complaint against her unkindness, becomes a sad reflection on time's relentless movement toward the grave: ―But being made of steele and rust,/Turnes snow, and silke, and milke to dust‖(23-24). The personification of time having hands of steel and rust is a violent image that conjures a picture of utter terror and dread. By the end, the poem turns inward to an acute sense of loss. It offers no consolation. ―Nature that Washt her Hands in milke‖ is ultimately a poem about irresistible and unrelenting mutability. The persona begins with an ingenious depiction of a custom-made ―mistresse‖ (5), shifts midway in the poem to images of the decay of beauty, and concludes with an apostrophe to ―cruell Time‖ (31). The pervasiveness of Raleigh's poetic concern with mutability is explicitly expressed in ―Nature that washt her hands in milke.‖ Raleigh turns from the lady's beauties to the subject of mutability. In the last stanza he generalizes: Oh cruell Time which takes in trust 12 Our youth, our Joyes and all we have, And payes us but with age and dust, Who in the darke and silent grave When we have wandered all our wayes Shutts up the story of our dayes. (31-36) On the eve of his scheduled execution, Raleigh's persona reflects upon death again: with the exception of the first line and the last couplet the lines are probably taken from the above concluding stanza of this earlier and longer composition. In a more resigned mood Raleigh substitutes the quieter, more affective, ―Even such is tyme which takes in trust,‖ and conclude with: ―And from which earth and grave and dust/ The Lord shall rayse me up I trust‖ (―Euen Such is Tyme‖ 7-8), thereby relating a new sense of acceptance of life's transience. That his preoccupation decades later with the ravages of time is still being repeated with equal power is a tangible indicator of his absorption with this theme. Raleigh's transformation of a poem in the love tradition into a serious epitaph is an indication of the general tenor of his poetry. Time, change, and fortune are constantly present until death puts a halt to them all. The revised form of ―Euen such as tyme‖ also infuses a tone of quite resignation into the ensuing allusions to man's frailty and ultimate insignificance. Given the inevitability of a mutable world, Raleigh can trust only in God. ****** As Raleigh's poetry tends to reflect his personal life, an outline of his biography is indispensable, because at times it becomes impossible to 13 separate the man from his persona, especially in the poetry that reflects his out-of-favor status. There are three periods in Raleigh's long career when he was out of favor at Court. In 1589, Raleigh left the Court to go to Ireland, ostensibly to oversee his vast land holdings there. The Court rumor held that Raleigh had been expelled from Court at Essex's instigation. Raleigh returned to England with his new friend Spenser in 1590, and he was soon enjoying the Queen's favor again. Raleigh was again out of favor (and, in fact, in the Tower) during 1592, when his marriage to Elizabeth Throckmorton became known to the Queen. Raleigh's biographers, such as Robert Lacey and Raleigh Trevelyan, do not agree on the date of his (and Elizabeth Throckmorton's) incarceration, but the couple was released in September of that year so that Raleigh could oversee dispersal of the treasure from a Spanish ship that one of his privateers had captured (see pages 27 and 28 for a fuller discussion). Although Raleigh remained active in Parliament and in explorations and military expeditions until the end of Elizabeth's reign, he never resumed the position of her close confidant he had held before his marriage. Raleigh was again out of favor but this time with Elizabeth's successor James I. Shortly after he took the throne, in late 1603, James had Raleigh imprisoned in the Tower on charges of treason. He was found guilty, but his death sentence was commuted, and he spent the next thirteen years in prison in the Tower of London, conducting scientific experiments and writing his prose work, The History of the World (1614). He was released in 1616 to lead an expedition against Guiana, which proved such a failure that, on his return home, the death sentence of 1603 was revived. He was executed in 1618 at the age of sixty-four. 14 Although I will be making the most of the formalistic and psychoanalytic approaches for studying most of his poetry, applying a new historicist reading to Raleigh‘s compositions adds yet a new dimension to the autobiographical nature of specific lines in his poetry. A new historicist reading of his poetry facilitates the interpretation of the poet-speaker‘s longings, frustrations, and despair resulting from his personal anxieties as a courtier in Elizabeth‘s Court. Such a view shows Raleigh as the poetspeaker through specific lines that echo events from his life. For example, when I encounter lines from "S. W. Raghlies Petition to the Qveene, such as "I your humblest vassall am opprest" (32) , "vndeserued woe" (33), and "what wee sometyme were wee are no more" (7), and from Scinthia such lines as "when shee did ill what empires could have pleased" (54), " twelve yeares intire I wasted in this warr" (120), "so many yeares thos ioyes have deerly bought" (233), "my error never was for thought" (338), "so to thy error have her eares inclined" (371), "witts mallicious" (405), "worlds fame" (406), "faythless frinds" (448), and "her love hath end" (522), then I must uphold the identification of Raleigh with his speaker. The new historicist approach illuminates in some of the poems the texture of the political backdrop against which Raleigh writes. As Don Wayne notes, new historicism "…includes a type of literary criticism that deals principally with the importance of local political and social contexts for the understanding of literary texts…" (793). I, therefore, explore the nature of the relationship between Raleigh and the Queen and argue that Raleigh felt politically stifled. An important effect of seeing Raleigh as the speaker behind some of the poems is that it reveals the emotional outpouring of a man in despair, who, because of the circumstances in which he finds himself, has no qualms 15 about referring to himself as ―dead‖ (Scinthia 8). In Raleigh's poetry, there is a relationship between the man who suffers and the man who writes. Raleigh's poems derive from his intensely felt experiences of real life and what is unique to that life. These wild flights are the deliberate strokes of his artistry — as being the muse in Raleigh speaking through biographical episodes that emerge at specific points in the poetry. He was an occasional poet, writing poems in response to feelings and thoughts stirred by instances from his life. In considering this artistry in his poetry, I need frequently to remind myself that, at times, there is little distinction between my judgment of Raleigh as a biographical entity, and the poet behind the poetry. A new historicist reading, therefore, depicts Raleigh as writing under the pressures and frustrations he actually experiences. His poetry is a way for him to transform his private feelings into artistic expressions and to address personal responses to the machinations of monarchical rule which cannot otherwise be done. The expressive and private spheres are, therefore, intertwined at particular instances in his poetry. Paradoxically, what I encounter in Raleigh's subjectivity to his varied experiences is a considerable amount of objectivity. The raw personal feeling of the man is given a rich objective form which does not exclude the personal feeling but includes it and transcends it. A poet does not give us raw passion, but passion shaped into a form of verse in such a manner that the form itself becomes communicative of the original passion. What was originally personal and private has been adequately communicated in a form of art so that each reader is able to share the freshness of the original experience. In order to understand the nature of Raleigh‘s fall and the state of mind the fall would have produced in him, therefore, a brief review of his 16 life, with consideration of specific events that shape his life in relation to issues in his poetry, should provide the essential framework for appreciating the verse from the vantage point of the losses he endured. In The 21st: And Last Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia, lines 61-68 seem to describe the events leading up to Raleigh‘s first imprisonment in the Tower: To seeke new worlds, for golde, for prayse, for glory, To try desire, to try loue seuered farr, When I was gonn shee sent her memory More stronge than weare ten thowsand shipps of warr, To call mee back, to leue great honors thought, To leue my frinds, my fortune, my attempte, To leue the purpose I so longe had sought And holde both cares, and cumforts in contempt. (61-68) Sometimes the bearing on his own life seems to be unmistakable, as in the passage on the ―twelve yeares warr,‖ with its echoes of his ―Farwell to the Covrt.‖ The ―twelve years‖ can be counted from 1580 when Raleigh went to Ireland up until the possible date of composition in 1592. We read the realization of his insecure position in: Twelue yeares intire I wasted in this warr, Twelue yeares of my most happy younger dayes, Butt I in them, and they now wasted ar, Of all which past the sorrow only stayes. (Scinthia 120 –123) 17 The persona‘s interesting use of war probably refers to the emotional, political, and social conflicts associated with his turbulent relationship with the Queen. As Trevelyan notes: . . . like any royal favorite from a relatively obscure background he was hated by the old nobility and by all who were so desperately jostling for power, wealth, and status. (80) Yet, it is a war fought on many levels not just with the Queen, but with himself and other courtiers. Moreover, part of the effort that is now wasted could refer to the poems he had addressed to the Queen prior to his disgrace. From the very beginning, poetry certainly played an integral part in Raleigh‘s relationship with the Queen. In The Worthies of England (1662), Thomas Fuller relates their initial meetings in which Raleigh had inscribed on a window ―fair would I climb, yet fear I to fall,‖ under which Elizabeth wrote, ―if thy heart fails thee, climb not at all‖ (261). Raleigh‘s courtship of the Queen was for those years the chief focus of all his intellectual and emotional energies, the central core from which his expansive activities stemmed. Yet the verse itself requires special consideration, because Raleigh‘s body of poetry, as Stephen May observes in The Elizabethan Courtier Poets (1991), ―presents one of the most difficult editorial problems of the English Renaissance‖ (14). Although several of his verses circulated freely in manuscript during the 1580s, exact dating is in most cases impossible. The canon, too, remains quite unstable, because Raleigh never made an attempt to preserve his poems. When a publisher had dared to publish some of his personal poems without his consent, he angrily 18 demanded that every copy should be withdrawn and his name removed. There were only five poems which Raleigh published or allowed to be published with his signature or initials during his lifetime: the poem ―In Commendation of the Steele Glasse‖ (1576), the two sonnets in praise of The Faerie Queene (1590), the praise of the translation of Lucan‘s Pharsalia by Sir Arthur Gorges (1614), and ―Conceipt Begotten by the eyes,‖ published in Francis Davison, A Poetical Rhapsody (1602). Because he declined printing his verse, there is a strong likelihood that some of his best work has been lost. Though we know relatively little about Raleigh's poetry because of his reluctance to be a public poet, the problems in determining the canon and the difficulty of reading Ocean to Scinthia are related. If we were more certain of when and what Raleigh wrote, we would be better able to define his voice and understand the difficulties in such poems as Scinthia. Yet we cannot be absolutely sure that half of the poems commonly attributed to him are in reality his own. Moreover, a few critics like Chidsey strongly and frequently make attempts to deny him some of his best known poems, most notably ―The passionate mans Pilgrimage‖ and ―The Nimphs reply to the Sheepheard.‖ We know a considerable amount about his life. Turning to the biography for what light it can throw on specific obscurities, particular awareness of Raleigh's personal history is necessary simply to understand what is happening in several of the poems. As Elizabethan records are sketchy, it is difficult to give precise dates for specific events regarding Raleigh. His most recent biographer, Trevelyan, agrees that he was born in either 1552 or 1554, in Devonshire on 19 the southern coast of England to a seafaring family. The youngest son of Walter Raleigh of Budleigh and Katherine Champernown, he had two half siblings by his father's first marriage to Joan Drake and four by his mother to Otho Gilbert. The paternal name, like many in an age of extremely unstable orthography, is written in various spellings. According to Chidsey: We are not even sure of the proper way to spell his name. He himself usually spelled it Rauley in the earlier part of his career, but later he used Rawleyghe, Raleghe and Rauleigh indiscriminately, and finally he seemed to settle upon Ralegh. Other variants are numberless – Ralli, Raley, Raleye, Raleagh, Reigley, Rhaley, Rhaly, Ralygh, Royle, Rawlei, Ralleigh, Raule, Rauly, Wrawley, Rawly, Raweley, Rawlee, Raylie, Rawleigh, Raghley, Raligh, Raghlie, Rawely, Raylie, Rawleighe, Rawleygh, etc. Posterity has unexpectedly decided that it shall be Raleigh—one of the few spellings he himself never used. The pedants cling undaunted to Ralegh, but the public has had its way. The pronunciation is the same in any case, and so is the man. (6) Regarding his education, Lacey concedes: Of Ralegh‘s early education nothing is known except by inference. He may have gone to a local school or have been taught privately at home. Possibly Walter Ralegh Senior was not able to afford a tutor for his family, and young Ralegh may 20 have boarded with relatives, and shared their tutor. Besides learning to read and write, he would have learned Latin, both grammar and tranlation, and possibly some Greek, although it was still a comparatively new study in schools. Ralegh‘s prose writings display a sound knowledge of the classics; his History of the World, for instance, is studded with translations and wellturned quotations from classical authors. He may also have learned some French and Italian. He was the sort of man who continued to educate himself, long after he had left school and university. (25) He was a member of Oriel College, Oxford, sometime in the late 1560s, and fought for the Huguenots in France in 1569. In the mid-1570s he seems to have been in London, first at Lyons Inn and then at the Middle Temple. One of his associates was George Gascoigne, with whom he was friendly enough to write commendatory verses for ―Tam Marti quam Mercurio,‖ after the death of the older poet. Raleigh served in the Netherlands about 1577-78, and was introduced to the court by 1578. He spent 1580-81 as a captain in Ireland, where he distinguished himself by his bravery and by his dislike of his superior, Lord Grey of Wilton. Raleigh's biographers, such as Trevelyan and Lacey, record that Raleigh's first meeting with the Queen is not on record, but that he certainly met her in the autumn of 1581, soon after his return to England from Ireland as something of a war hero. Raleigh met with the Queen for a private consultation about the situation. Biographers recall how Elizabeth was enthralled by his brilliant explanation of the war to her which serves as the 21 basis for another account of Raleigh's rise. Robert Naunton reported that Raleigh, in sharp disagreement with the Lord Grey, was called with the latter before the council and there: . . . had much the better in the manner of telling his tale, insomuch that the Queen and the lords took no slight notice of him and his parts . . . began to be taken with his elocution and loved to hear his reasons to her demands . . . . And truth it is she took him for a kind of oracle, which nettled them al . . . . (73) We can deduce from Naunton‘s account that Raleigh‘s extraordinary rise in Elizabeth's favor resulted from a combination of personal charm and charisma, awareness of political policies and military objectives, and facility for language. (The well-known story that Raleigh first attracted the Queen's attention by spreading his cloak before her so that she could cross a puddle is legendary). According to Fuller: This caption Ralegh, coming out of Ireland to the English court in good habit (his clothes being then a considerable part of his estate) found the queen walking, till meeting with a plashy place, she seemed to scruple going thereon. Presently Raleigh cast and spread his new plush cloak on the ground, whereon the queen trod gently, rewarding him afterwards with many suits . . . . (133) On her order, Raleigh did not return to Ireland where he had been fighting as a Captain under Lord Grey in the Irish rebellion. The next seven years were 22 for Raleigh the golden years, what Jack Adamson and Harold Folland call ―a long sabbath of courtship and poetry, jest and serious conversation, duties of state and defence of the realm‖ (126). In Elizabethan England, success was realized only through the Queen, who became for Raleigh and other aspiring men the embodiment of their worldly ambitions. In his poetry, Raleigh reveals the wit, the passion, and the charm that endeared him to the Queen as a courtier. He distinguished himself by his charismatic personality that translated itself into his poetic persona. Before becoming the Queen‘s favorite, Raleigh had little money and prestige. Through his relation with her, he acquired both. During the ten years following 1581, Raleigh was awarded a series of promotions and preferments almost without a parallel—and this from a Queen who was notoriously conservative in granting advancements (Naunton 42). In 1583, he was awarded the farm of wines; in 1584, he was knighted; the following year he was made Warden of the Stannaries; in 1586, he was granted 40,000 acres of land in Ireland; and, in 1587, was promoted to captaincy of Elizabeth's guard. Raleigh, who was supported against all opposition, used his standing with his sovereign to further his interests in exploration and colonization. However, after 1589, Raleigh‘s life takes on aspects of sorrow and tragedy; a man of great abilities is raised to a high place, and then, through a combination of his own flaw (namely, pride) and circumstances over which he had no control, suffers a great fall. Although as a courtier he moved within the circle of power and had first-hand experience with those who wielded such power, Raleigh made little or no attempt to associate himself with a strong party. His relations 23 with men of rank were usually tense. Newsletters, pamphlets, and poems were full of stories of his pride and insolence. Fuller describes how Raleigh . . . had many enemies . . . at court, his cowardly detracturs, of whom Sir Walter was wont to say, ―If any man acuseth me to my face, I will answer him with my mouth, but my tail is good enough to return an answer to such who traduceth me behind my back.‖ (133) However, Lacey gives a more appealing account of Raleigh‘s personality: Ralegh had plenty of deteractors. He was heartily disliked on all sides because of his reputation for being proud. Yet there is no evidence of Ralegh‘s pride. There is no incident recorded of his behaving unduly arrogantly towards anyone; indeed all the signs point the other way—that in fact he often exerted himself to use his influence with the Queen on behalf of a wide range of clients, and by no means all of high rank, as in the case of Leicester‘s man Jukes. It could be that his very generosity contributed to people‘s dislike of him. Men hate to have to be grateful; they despised themselves for having to ask Ralegh a favour; they despised him if he failed on their behalf; and, perversely, despised him all the more if he succeeded. In general, Ralegh was insufferably successful, and always confident of his success. He had this confoundedly superior attitude—what Aubrey called ‗that awfulness and ascendancy in his aspect over other mortals thought of him . . . . This 24 maddened other courtiers, some of whome were already suspicious of a favourite who showed signs of wanting to mix in politics at the highest level. The Queen was entitled to fondle her favourite lovebirds in her bosom, or at least in her closet. That did nobody any harm. But this lovebird was beginning to look disconcertingly like a hawk. One courtier, Sir Anthony Bagot, said with feeling and probably with approximate truth that ―Sir Walter Ralegh is the best hated man of the world: in Court, city and country.‖ (54) The hatred towards him even extended to gossip about the extravagance of his clothing—jewels in his shoes and a suit adorned with precious gems. Moreover, the flamboyance of his clothing is apparent in his portraits of this period which depict Raleigh in jewel-studded caps and collars edged with beautiful lace. In a painting dated 1588, Raleigh wears a large pearl earring and is superbly dressed in an embroidered doublet and fur-collared cloak virtually covered with pearls. In the upper left-hand corner of the painting, above his motto ―Amore et Virtute,‖ is a small crescent moon, a symbol of Diana. As this symbol suggests, the lavish adornments were not only pompous displays of wealth, they were signs of Raleigh‘s favor and part of the elaborate image with which he mesmerized Elizabeth. Thus, in the mid1580s he was at such a height that he could intercede with the Queen for such high ranking men as Robert Cecil. At this time in his life, however, Raleigh was unaware of Cecil‘s jealousy and treachery. As we read some of his verse with an understanding of his 1592 disgrace, we realize his persona‘s awakened knowledge about false friends or ―witts malicious‖ (Scinthia 405) whose jealousy fed the flames of Elizabeth‘s anger: ―What 25 faythless frinds.../Present, to feede her most vnkynde suspect‖ (Scinthia 449). At times, various sections of his poetry become so biographical and personal that it becomes impossible to distinguish Raleigh from his persona. After the Queen‘s death in 1603, his verse poignantly recalls how friends have fled from his side in his time of misery because ―...Life and people haue abandoned [him]‖ (―Conjectural First Draft of the Petition to Qveen Anne‖ 11). With the malicious detractors against him, he looks to Queen Anne for support. Were he guilty of treason with which he is unjustly charged, he tells her in ―S.W. Raghlies Petition to the Qveene,‖ ―No thing I should estime so deare as Death,‖ (30) but through his constant loyalty to the crown he deserves better treatment. His strength was the strength of the former Queen; others were obsequious to him in his presence but ready to strip him of power and prestige at the cessation of royal protection and favor: ―But friendships, kindred, and Loues Memorie/Dies sole, extinguisht hearing oir behoulding/The voyce of woe, or face of Miserie‖ (―Conjectural First Draft of the Petition to Qveen Anne,‖ 13-15). When Raleigh loses Queen Elizabeth, he finds himself lost in the barren world of King James: ―And what we some tyme were we seeme noe More,/ Fortune hath changd our shapes, and Destinie/ Defac‘d our very forme we had before‖ (―Conjectural First Draft of the Petition to Qveen Anne‖ 19-21). Raleigh‘s identity is invested in being a courtier, and to cease being a favorite courtier meant the collapse of his entire world. It is therefore the year 1589 that marks a pivotal time in Raleigh's life as a courtier. His power, favor, and pre-eminence were at a height they would never reach 26 again, although Raleigh would live for almost thirty more years. Raleigh had always strived for recognition and service to the Queen. Up to 1589, Raleigh held the unique position of the Queen's favorite. It is in March of this year that Raleigh returned to court after the English victory over the Spanish Armada. Although the Queen acknowledged his active participation by hanging a gold chain around his neck, Williamson acknowledges how she surprisingly shut him out of her inner circle (49). For Raleigh, this was a shock which was unbearably painful. Both his pride and his ambition suffered a setback: he had served her with love and devotion for the past seven years. He had now been cast aside to watch Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, take the place that had been his and as Williamson notes ―it was probably about this time that, seeing his position and all he fought for endangered by his youthful rival, Raleigh reflected on the mutability of life . . . (43). Chidsey and Williamson are among the historians who note that the rise to favor of Essex was the most noticeable reason for Raleigh's new struggles and it was the cause of many changes in the next thirteen years, in the history not only of Sir Walter Raleigh but of England as a whole. Chidsey offers the following explanation: . . . the courtiers and the nation at large adored Essex. The reason generally given for this is the young man‘s ingratiating personality. He was impulsive, generous, high-spirited. His very faults—his flightiness, quick temper, lack of vision—made him the more beloved. But a second reason was his antagonism to Raleigh. If he 27 may be said to have had a platform, that platform was opposition to the Devonshire upstart. And so many and so passionate were Raleigh‘s enemies, who were willing to support anybody or anything which might shove that knight from his pinnacle, that even if Essex had been personally a disagreeable fellow, he would have been certain of a large following as soon as it was known that he had the Queen‘s favor. Raleigh-haters flocked to him . . . . (75) Raleigh now had to share his intimacy with the Queen with the young Essex, and that resulted in his weakened influence at court. Life with Elizabeth was becoming increasingly complicated; he must have been apprehensive. For Chidsey: [Raleigh] was in a dangerous place and obliged to step carefully. For all the opposition to him was concentrated now, centered in the person of an irresponsible boy who had the Queen‘s ear morning, noon and night. The two men were doomed to be enemies. Raleigh seems to have borne no personal grudge against Essex, but the young fireeater was in his way. As for Essex, he never had a chance to like Raleigh. A feudal knight-errant, inspired by ideas long since outworn, he considered the ―upstart‖ an affront to the nobility of the realm. (78) Unlike Raleigh Essex was extremely popular with the people, and thus proved ―the solitary exception to the rule of the national abhorrence of 28 favourites‖ (Stebbing 60). His popularity . . . is explained as much by the dislike of Ralegh as by Essex's ingratiating characteristics. Animosity against Ralegh stimulated courtiers and the populace to sing in chorus the praises of the stepson of the detested Leicester. (Stebbing 61) It was inevitable that Essex as the young and rising favorite should view the older and more established favorite as an enemy and assume that the older favorite would have reciprocal feelings. The skirmishes between Essex and Raleigh would culminate in 1600, when, after he had woefully mismanaged an assignment in Ireland, Essex led an army of his friends to London in an attempt to arouse the citizens to force Elizabeth to dismiss Raleigh and Cecil. This act led eventually to the execution of Essex in 1601. Raleigh and the Earl of Essex met almost daily at court, and almost always in the presence of a Queen who enjoyed pitting one against the other. When one suitor composed a poem in her honor, she would use it to inflame the jealousy of his rival. She was always testing the limits of the affection offered to her in an attempt to extend her emotional sway, and the strain this imposed on her courtiers was severe. Tension would swell up inside them to explode in quarrels, flaming rows over the most trivial disagreements, fierce verbal threats and duels that could, on occasions, go beyond words—and so it was that after the stressful months of the Armada episode, Raleigh and Essex found themselves disputing and resolved to settle their differences in a duel which the Privy Council, only with great difficulty, prevented. The rivalry between them broke into open conflict. After the funeral of Sir 29 Philip Sidney, the Earl had charmed Elizabeth to win the role as England's hero (81). The young knight seemed a necessary component for adding new life to the aging Queen and her court. For the first time, Raleigh quarreled with the Queen. Although she expressed her anger, Raleigh would not succumb to groveling at her feet. Instead, he asked for permission to visit his lands in Ireland.1 After nearly a decade of being at Elizabeth's beck and call, Raleigh‘s out–of–favor status forced him to realize that there were more things in the world a courtier's life could embrace, and in the summer of 1589 he seemed intent on finding them. Needless to say, this provided evidence for his detractors that Raleigh had fallen from favor (presumably through the machinations of the Earl of Essex, whose star was rising). Raleigh must have felt dispirited for devoting all his best years to a woman whom he felt had abandoned him; he poured his feelings into reflective sorrowful poems. In ―Farewell To The Covrt,‖ he laments how ―[His] lost delights.../Have left [him] all alone...‖ (6). However, with his boundless energy Raleigh felt stifled in this remote country place and longed for the stimulation of the court and the elegant, fascinating woman who was the living heart of it: ―When I was gonn, shee sent her memory/ More stronge than weare ten thowsand shipps of warr‖ (Scinthia 63 - 64). Raleigh was more firmly back in favor in 1591, after Essex' temporary disgrace following the latter's marriage. However, this period of favor was short-lived for although everything seemed to be going Raleigh's way, something happened to him that was to hurl him into disgrace and alter the entire course of his life. In 1592 he was in disfavor again, this time more 30 seriously. The Queen's reactions to Essex's secret marriage, should have served as a warning to Raleigh. In 1590, Essex married Frances, the widow of Sir Philip Sidney and the daughter of Sir Frances Walsingham: . . . Essex attempted to keep the marriage secret since he knew the Queen's aversions, but, once again, pregnancy betrayed a young couple. The Queen was angry not merely because he took a wife without asking her consent, but for marrying, as she said, ―below his degree.‖ Essex was finally able to assuage the Queen's anger only on the condition that his accomplice ―lived very retired in the country.‖ (Stebbing 117) It is Raleigh's 1592 disgrace that most critics, including Chidsey, Williamson, and Lacey, assume produced the Scinthia poems of the Hatfield manuscript. Criticism of Raleigh's court poetry has been dominated by the suggestion that Raleigh was the author of a vast lost poem portraying himself as the Shepherd of the Ocean and the Queen as Cynthia. The 21st: and Last Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia is one of the unsolved mysteries of Raleigh‘s life. Though Spenser talks specifically on more than one occasion about a great verse epic written by Walter Raleigh on the subject, and though there are other contemporary references to Scinthia we today have only four fragments of a manuscript in Raleigh's own hand that were discovered in the 1860s, about 240 years after Raleigh was beheaded and more than 260 years after they were written. The four poems were preserved in the Cecil archives at Hatfield House, the family seat of Elizabeth I‘s lord treasurer William Cecil, Lord Burghley. Robert Cecil was active in English affairs of state during the reign of James I, so it would have 31 been possible for the manuscript to have found its way into the Hatfield House papers after the Queen's death in 1603. The poems discovered in the Cecil Papers at Hatfield House offer some excellent advantages for highlighting Raleigh's sense of loss. In Raleigh's own handwriting, we are able to date the poems as probably belonging to the summer or fall of 1592. They refer to an identifiable relationship—between Raleigh and the Queen. The situation described in the poems appears to relate to Raleigh's fall from favor in 1592, subsequent to his affair with Elizabeth Throckmorton. Some critics, such as May and Williamson, read these poems as Raleigh‘s sustained lament to the Queen during his imprisonment in 1592: a seven-line poem beginning ―if Synthia be a Queen, a princess, and supreme‖; a sonnet, ―My boddy in the walls captived‖; a 522-line poem in interlocking couplets, The 21st: and Last Book of the Ocean to Scinthia; and a 22-line fragment, ―The End of the Bookes, of the Oceans Love to Scinthia, and the Beginninge of the 22nd Boock, Entreatinge of Sorrow,‖ which breaks off in mid phrase after some twenty lines. The last two poems, or parts of poems, are generally spoken of by critics collectively as The Ocean to Scinthia. Some editors, Latham among them, read the numerals as ―11th‖ and ―12th,‖ but in 1985 Stacy M. Clanton confirmed in a detailed paleographic study of the manuscript the readings ―21st‖ and ―22nd.‖ The discovery of these poems was significant because it added four certain poems to a very uncertain canon of Raleigh's poetry. The one thing they have in common is that they center on Raleigh's loss of the Queen's love and favors. They convey both the instability and the distress that he felt following his disgrace. In Scinthia especially, we have the most extensive portrayal of Raleigh's relationship with the Queen, and the fullest 32 example of his poetic art. Further evidence that Raleigh had planned and at least partially written a great poem to the Queen has been seen in Spenser's tributes to the poetry of his friend and patron. The two had met in Ireland during the summer of 1589 when Raleigh had left the court in some slight disfavor. Spenser recalls this meeting in Colin Clouts Come Home Againe, describing a visit from the ―Shepheard of the Ocean‖ who made no secret of his disenchantment with life at the court of Queen Elizabeth: His song was all a lamentable lay, Of great unkindnesse, and of usage hard, Of Cynthia, the Ladie of the Sea, Which from her presence faultlesse him debard. And ever and anon with singulfs rife, He cryed out, to make his undersong Ah my loves queene, and goddesse of my life, Who shall me pittie, when thou doest me wrong? (164- 71) Chidsey and Lacey concede that it is unlikely that this lament was identical with the poems to Cinthia in the Hatfield House manuscript. Yet perhaps Spenser heard earlier portions of the Ocean to Scinthia which were subsequently lost or destroyed. It would be to these too that he refers in ―Booke III‖ of The Faerie Queene, praising ―. . . that sweete verse, with nectar sprinckeled,/ In which a gracious servaunt pictured/ His Cynthia, his heavens fayrest light?‖ (IV). 33 Although this disgrace marks a significant time in Raleigh's life, its causes are unclear. In brief, the Queen seems to have been infuriated over Raleigh's secret marriage to Elizabeth Throckmorton, one of her maids of honor. As Captain of the Guard, Raleigh was brought into close contact with the Queen's ladies, but until then he had taken little notice of them. Frivolous girlish chatter bored him. He would dance with them, pay them charming compliments, and leave them for more interesting company: ―he was not, in short, a ladies‘ man‖ (Chidsey 41). However, the kind of thing that comes to some men sooner or later, just as it had come to Essex, had finally come to Raleigh––he fell in love. Both Raleigh and his bride held a unique position in the Queen's court. Elizabeth Throckmorton, as one of Elizabeth Tudor's maids of honor, was in a sense an official member of her family, subject both to her control and to her protection. As captain of the Queen's guard, Raleigh also was a member of her personal staff. In a sense Raleigh depended on the Queen‘s favor not just for his personal wealth, but for his very definition of himself in their relationship. He was her ―Water.‖ As Lacey points out, though being the Queen‘s favorite ―offered prestige, power, and a means to wealth, [it] was a difficult career . . .‖ (89). Nevertheless, without her affirmation of their special relationship, Raleigh was without Court identity. This concept sheds light on the devastating repercussions of losing this identity. To fall in love with the Queen's handsome favorite was a danger that Elizabeth Throckmorton (also known as Bess) knew she must avoid; however, it was not easy to be sensible when Raleigh singled her out from all the others for his attentions. She was twenty-three, the daughter of Sir 34 Nicholas Throckmorton, who had once been Elizabeth's ambassador in Paris. He had died when she was six and her mother had married again. Her brother Arthur was already at court, and to be chosen as one of the ladies-inwaiting was a great honor for a young girl from a country home. As historians have noted, the Queen could be generous to her maids. If they pleased her, she would find them good husbands, dance at their wedding, be Godmother to the first baby. Bess's father had not been a rich man. Her dowry was small, and she had always known she must be sensible and look not for romance but for a kind husband who would give her a comfortable home.2 As best as they can be reconstructed, the circumstances leading up to the Queen's discovery and subsequent outrage were these: Raleigh had won reluctant permission from the Queen to direct a fleet of fighting ships against Spanish shipping. This was to have been his first command as an admiral of a fleet, something he had always wanted: ―. . . the purpose I so longe had sought‖ (Scinthia 67). Not only did it give him that power and prestige for which he hungered (―To seeke new worlds, for golde, for prayse, for glory‖ Scinthia 61), but being an admiral promised an opportunity to acquire considerable wealth. For the English at this time, privateering was a business enterprise. The Queen, Raleigh, and London merchants had invested money in the expectation of quick and substantial profits.3 But, there were several delays in getting the fleet underway. These delays diminished the hope that Raleigh could be at sea when the Queen discovered his secret marriage, whereby he could be rich enough on his return to appease her anger. 35 Raleigh finally set sail on May 6; on May 16 he was back in England because a royal order came for him to return immediately, and though he stayed with his ships until they had safely reached Spain at Cape Finisterre, Raleigh was uneasy about the tone of Elizabeth's command to return.4 This time he was not recalled as he had been before because of reluctance on the part of Elizabeth to have her favorites away from court or exposed to danger. Upon his arrival, Raleigh was confined to his own house and George Carew was put in charge of him. Bess (his wife) was dismissed from court. Raleigh's secret love was by now an open secret. However, Raleigh would neither accept his confinement lightly, nor would he confess his ―crime.‖ He had always been certain that when the moment came, he would be able to charm the Queen into forgiveness as he had done after his 1589 disgrace. Despite all his efforts to reach her, he was not admitted into her presence: He went directly to London Tower. No, Elizabeth would not see him: Elizabeth didn‘t ever want to see him again. The Tower was the place for him. In another part of that same building was poor Elizabeth Throgmorton. So far as we know, there was never a charge of any sort brought against either of these prisoners. It was sufficient that they had offended the Queen. Justice? She was justice! And they knew better than to make any talk about trials and courts and such-like nonsense. (Chidsey 129) There was a deeper impulse that went beyond the obvious economic reasons why Raleigh should try to regain royal favor and the rewards that sprang from it. The entire court must have been gossiping at the scandal. 36 Raleigh had been so confident, so proudly different from the others, and now he had been caught out like everyone else. His enemies looked forward to his disgrace. May observes the degree in which Raleigh‘s ―acquired wealth and status . . . infuriated his fellow courtiers . . . Hatton and Leicester‖ (9). So, he was induced by his pride to try to restore all the distinction and renown he once possessed. It was a personal motive which drove him to repair his situation with the Queen, and the instrument for this desire was poetry—though on this occasion its form was more challenging than anything he had previously attempted: the great epic he had discussed with Spenser in 1589, The 21st: and Last Book of the Ocean to Scinthia. We must realize that almost all his despairs over fortune were expressed through poetry with the apparent hope that his fortunes might be changed by the power of his verse. During his 1592 imprisonment, Lacey recalls how he heard in his cell that the expedition he had planned made the capture he had hoped for. Off the Azores, the Roebuck took the great East Indian ship Madre de Dios, with an enormous cargo of gold and jewels, of spices, of amber and ebony, of silks, damasks, and tapestries. It was the largest and richest ship ever to be captured by Englishmen. When it was towed into Dartmouth, the whole West Country must have felt excitement. However, the seamen, rebellious and angry that Raleigh had been imprisoned, mutinied against their unpopular captains. They pillaged and looted where they could, making off with bags of rubies and diamonds and gold cups, with spices and perfumes. The Privy Council was in despair. Robert Cecil hurried down to Dartmouth and was met by John Hawkins and John Gilbert, two extremely worried men, trying to deal with a hopeless situation. All three knew of one man 37 who could settle this confusion. So Raleigh was released and rode down to Devon under guard to such a welcome that Robert Cecil was both astonished and upset. The latter's authority meant nothing beside that of the prisoner. The captains and seamen crowded around Raleigh congratulating him, clapping him on the shoulder, shaking him by the hand, though Raleigh was careful to tell them that he was still the Queen's captive. By working early and late he saved most of the cargo: ―Four score thousand pounds is more than ever a man presented to Her Majesty,‖ he told Burghley with a touch of pride, and continues, ―If God has sent it for my ransom, I hope Her Majesty will accept it‖ (qtd. in Trevelyan 171). And accept it she did. It might have helped to calm Elizabeth‘s annoyance at his secret relationship, but his real offence, his deep, stubborn, unbending pride—this was a fault it was to take him five long years to purge. It was Raleigh who had suffered loss. He had planned the expedition, invested more money than anyone, done all the hard work, and come off the worst. But at least he and Bess were free after six months of separation. Now at last he could take his bride to his new home in Dorset. But sorrow went with them. The baby whose arrival had caused so much anxiety had died during the summer (May 12). On the basis of the available information put forth in Sir Arthur Throckmorton‘s diary, 5 it is impossible to be sure whether Raleigh and Bess had been secretly married, or whether even Raleigh was forced to marry her after she became pregnant. Most twentieth-century biographers, such as 38 Lacey and Trevelyan, tend to believe that the offense was marriage and nothing else, and that Raleigh lied in a letter to Cecil, where he proclaims himself unmarried and without intention to marry: I mean not to come away, as they say I will, for fear of a marriage [i.e. Raleigh‘s own] and I know not what. If any such thing were I would have imparted it unto yourself before any man living. And therefore I pray believe it not, and I beseech you to suppress what you can any such malicious report. For I protest before God there is none on the face of the earth that I would be fastened unto. (qtd in Trevelyan 172) When Raleigh professes to being unmarried in his letter to Cecil, we are not compelled to believe him. He may have lied out of desperation. But writing in French, Arthur Throckmorton, records his sister's marriage in an entry dated November 19, 1591. Subsequent references (in English) are to his sister's pregnancy, the birth on March 29, 1592, of a boy, named ―Damerei‖ (curiously Essex was chosen as godfather). In Scinthia, Raleigh‘s persona claims that he had not planned any of it, that he had erred but it was unpremeditated: ―...my error never was forthought/ or ever could proceed from sence of lovinge (338-39). What gave offense was not intended as, or thought to be, offensive; neither did it imply any compromise of his total devotion to the Queen. There are no extant records indicating the official reason for his imprisonment, but rumor and speculation have run high for over 400 years. 39 Whatever the specifics, biographers agree that the Queen was enraged over Raleigh's relationship with one of her maids of honor.6 Raleigh must have realized the implications and probable consequences of his secret marriage. If Raleigh dared to reveal how much he loved Bess, the Queen might strip him of everything he possessed. He had horrible memories of her treatment of Essex, and other men who married without her consent. Only a short time earlier Essex had married without the Queen's knowledge, and though his marriage was to Frances Walsingham, the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, it had changed the relationship of Essex and the Queen forever. Essex's wife had been permanently barred from court—so how much more vulnerable was Raleigh, and how much greater his offense. Though the Queen had been angry with Essex, he was after all a nobleman. Raleigh was not, and as he was to lament in Ocean to Scinthia, a few months later, ―. . . I vnblessed, and ill borne creature‖ (319) ―. . . must bee th' exampll in loves storye‖ (334). By the very nature of the positions each held in Queen Elizabeth's entourage, Raleigh and Bess‘s love affair had to be a secret. And this in itself tells us something of the strength of the feelings that swept the couple away, for both of them were mature individuals—Raleigh was in his late thirties, Bess in her late twenties—and both were quite aware of the terrible risks they were taking: Ralegh knew the storm that had blown up when Leicester married; he knew that the Earl of Essex‘s wife had been forever barred from the Court. And he was in a worse position than either. When the earls had married, Elizabeth‘s fury had been abated by the nobility of their blood and the legitimacy of the 40 relationship. But the squire of low degree had debauched a maid of honour. It would be the blow to her pride that would infuriate Elizabeth . . . . (Adamson 201) Both were from comparatively humble backgrounds, they had much to lose if they offended Elizabeth, and they understood the potentially dangerous fate they might suffer if they succumbed to the emotions that pulled them towards each other. However, their desire to be together gave way to an endurance which bore witness to the depth of their love. Bess Throckmorton, both in herself and in the trouble she generated, produced a change in Raleigh—a man capable of genuine feeling. The Queen‘s favorite became a woman‘s husband, and in embracing this role, Raleigh became a different person: he developed dissatisfaction with court life. In Bess he now discovered the new dimensions he sought. As his sonnet such as ―Like to a Hermite Poore‖ had demonstrated, he was frustrated with his constant homage to Elizabeth. He was deprived of genuine affection and was thirsty for love—and it was love readily reciprocated by Bess, as he explained in ―To his Love when hee had obtained Her‖: ―. . . wee freely may enjoy/ Sweete imbraces . . .‖ (2-3). Adamson offers this explanation: She was bright and vivacious, several years younger than Ralegh, who was now a man of forty. He can have had no present pleasure in his barren flirtation with the Queen, but, on the other hand, she was still the source of all good things. (201) 41 Whatever the specific details, Raleigh did at some point marry Elizabeth Throckmorton, and the Queen did bar them both from court—her for good and him until 1597. Although he was banished from the court, the Queen had not taken any of his offices from him. His abilities were far too great to be left unused. He was still powerful in Devon and Cornwall. He was still Captain of the Guard, but as he was forbidden to enter the Queen's presence, he had to appoint a deputy. Nonetheless, after a few months of adjustment, Raleigh resigned himself to his situation. He bought land, met with friends, and enjoyed his family. His son Walter was born in 1594. For many years he had sponsored maritime adventures, including the ill-fated but pioneering expeditions to Virginia. In 1594 he determined to go to the New World himself, and in 1595 he received the necessary permission. His voyage to Guiana was a personal if not financial success, and his exciting story of the adventure, The Discoverie of the Largge, Rich, and Beutiful Empyre of Guiana (1596), brought him some popular renown, and possibly softened the heart of the Queen. But it was his heroic battle against the Spaniards at Cadiz that eventually brought him back into favor, where in June 1597 he regained his proximity to the Queen: [Raleigh] was officially forgiven. Elizabeth used him graciously and gave him full authority to execute his place as Captain of the Guard, which he immediately undertook, and swore many men into the places void. That evening he was on duty at her side again, more ostentatiously magnificent than ever in a new suit of silver armour. (Williamson 103) 42 Back at court he became involved with intrigues against Spain—activities that were to be ultimately and ironically fatal. Although Raleigh's deception of the Queen in 1592 had been a tremendous shock to her, and one that appeared she would never forgive, after five years in exile Queen Elizabeth seemed intent on forgetting Raleigh's past betrayal and wanted nothing more than reviving those joyous twelve years with him. Raleigh was back administering to the Queen‘s needs again, and he was to stay there for the next five and a half years until her death. Both of them were older, Elizabeth in her mid-sixties, he in his mid- forties, and in their age lay an important reason for their reconciliation. The aging Queen had outlived most of those closest to her; Raleigh was older and wiser and their reunion held for both of them an element of nostalgia, a time when they were younger and happier. So, with her captain of the guard again by her side, laughing and playing the old games of rhetoric and wit, it seemed that those grand years of her reign in the 1580s had returned. Although his personal losses provide the general background to and justification for viewing his poetry as repeated attempts to deal with the pain of loss, many biographers have found it easier to include numerous striking passages from Raleigh‘s poems, making no attempt to see in the work anything that might be representative of Raleigh's personal emotions or poetic art. They are more concerned with Raleigh's career as a statesman, 43 soldier, explorer, and historian. They prefer to ignore his poetry rather than attempt to link the various relationships the compositions may have to the life of this complex man.7 Such exclusion is regrettable; a detailed analysis of his poetry reveals that he conveys profound philosophical statements on the human situation depicting man facing loss. One even feels at times that one is glimpsing into the soul of another human being, and such a view is rare. Although Raleigh wrote many of his poems only after he became close to the Queen—thus during the time of his most satisfactory relationship, a time when he might be expected to be free from the effects of loss—his works nevertheless reveal a preoccupation with loss. By delving into this apparent paradox in Raleigh‘s poetry, my overall goal is to contribute to a better understanding of the verse. Crucial to this understanding is an acknowledgement of the role of loss in these works—in the vision of life expressed through the poems, and in the sense one gets of the persona's personal experience. Royal disdain not only hurt Raleigh emotionally, but also stripped him of his material achievements and proved fatal. In such a harsh environment, Raleigh turned his loss into an infinite gain of poetic immortality; he created lasting memorials that express and hold his sorrows through which his philosophic vision of man glimmers. Therefore, the presence of such a preoccupation with loss does not lead to a negative judgment of Raleigh. Although it is obvious that he met failure as a result of his losses, that he did not progress throughout his career, he in effect turned loss into gain. The purpose of this study is to examine the many ways in which this preoccupation manifests itself in Raleigh's poetry and to explore his verse through the themes centering on loss. By discerning the specific ways in which his compositions are related to the central theme of loss, one will gain a fuller understanding of the works. The following chapter is 44 therefore devoted to reinforcing and deepening the understanding of the real, once-living man whose sense of persecution and insecurity divulges the shattering effects of losing all that is held dear (wealth, status, and respect, to name just a few), all while writing under the coveted title of a courtier. And this will be achieved by taking in account the dimensions and aspects paid no or little attention so far, resulting in an inadequate appreciating of his poetry of loss. 45 Notes, Chapter I 1 For some of this time in Ireland, Raleigh met Spenser whom he subsequently introduced to the court. In 1590 Raleigh was back in favor, at least enough for Spenser to address to him an introductory letter to The Faerie Queene, which was of course dedicated to Elizabeth. Raleigh, in turn, provided two commendatory poems for Spenser's work, which were placed at the head of five other poetic commendations. 2 For more information on Bess' life see Anna Beer My Just Desire: The Life Of Bess Ralegh, Wife To Sir Walter. 3 For a discussion of Raleigh‘s political attitudes towards issues of expansion, conquest, and colonization see Great Englishmen of the Sixteenth Century (1970) by Sidney Lee. The author views the British colonial impulse as a consequence of the intellectual curiosity, idealism, and desire for mastery, characteristic of Elizabethans in general and Raleigh in particular. Also, in Raleigh and The British Empire (1949), David Quinn surveys Raleigh‘s overall career as explorer, colonizer, and theorist of empire building. The author recounts Raleigh‘s early adventures with his half brothers through his colonization attempts in North America and Ireland as well as his two expeditions to Guiana. 4 Penry Williams in The Later Tudors: England, 1547-1603 (1995), offers interesting insights into the dynamics of Elizabeth I‘s reign and 46 maintains that ―no action, however minor, could be taken without the consent of Elizabeth‖ (330). 5 See A.L. Rowse, Sir Walter Raleigh, His Family and Private life. The author brings to light the diary of Raleigh's brother-in-law, Sir Arthur Throckmorton. It yields valuable information on some aspects of Raleigh's life—his secret marriage to Elizabeth Throckmorton, and the birth of a child not known to history. And it sheds light on the complex relationship between the Queen and her favorite. 6 Rowse in his Raleigh and the Throckmortons has a full discussion of Raleigh's relationship with that family. Moreover, most of the biographers, cited in this chapter, agree that the Queen was outraged at Bess Throckmorton. 7 The primary emphasis of such books is biographical and/or political. Examples are: Donald B. Chidsey‘s, Sir Walter Raleigh, That Damned Upstart. A full-length biography that is detailed and thorough on Raleigh‘s rise and fall; Margaret Irwin‘s That Great Lucifer: A Portrait of Sir Walter Ralegh follows most earlier biographies in dealing with Raleigh‘s career in two broad and contrasting phases: Raleigh and Elizabeth, and Raleigh and James. She also includes extended biographical portraits of other figures important in Raleigh‘s life like Philip II of Spain and Sir 47 Nicholas Throckmorton; Sir Philip Magnus‘ Sir Walter Ralegh provides a relatively brief biographical narrative, with general commentaries on some of Raleigh‘s writings; Sir Rennel Rodd‘s Sir Walter Ralegh concentrates on Raleigh as a soldier, sailor, and adventurer; Edward John Thompson‘s Sir Walter Ralegh: The Last of the Elizabethans provides a full-length biography that depicts Raleigh as the ultimate representative of his age. Believes Raleigh was distinguished and doomed by his brilliance amid the corrupt court of King James; and Willard W. Wallace‘s Sir Walter Ralegh is another full-length biography that is written from a historian‘s point of view. He delves into Raleigh‘s friendship with Spenser, Hariot, Dee, and his possible relationship with Marlowe. Wallace also includes an appendix on the spelling of Raleigh‘s name, listing the seventy-three recorded varients and discussing possible variations in pronunciation during Raleigh‘s time. 48 Chapter II Struggling With Insecurity and Loss ―I catche, allthoughe I houlde not” (―Fayne wovlde I but I dare not‖ 21) 49 With Raleigh's rise to power, he must have been acutely sensitive to the insecurity of that power. According to Chidsey, he was resented, mistrusted, and even hated by most of the courtiers of the courtly circle who were jealous of his relationship with the Queen: Always his enemies were circling slowly around him, poisoned arrows fitted in their bows, waiting, watching him carefully; if for an instant he stooped, paused . . . they would be upon him. But he was bold. He kept his head high, sneering at them . . . . (73-74) His couplet, ―for who so reapes, renowne aboue the rest,/With heapes of hate, shal surely be opprest‖ (―Walter Rawely of the Middle Temple, in Commendation of the Steele Glasse‖ 11-12) sums up Raleigh‘s tragic life. His sudden rise to favor, his literary abilities, his intelligence and his domineering manner made him hated. However, for Raleigh frustration proved to be a powerful source of energy. From an unknown, low-key gentleman of limited means, a young soldier who had come to the court with neither impressive accomplishments nor prominent friends, Raleigh had risen by the mid-1580s to a distinguished place, as he himself put it, ―to be believed not inferior to any man to pleasure or displeasure the greatest; and my opinion is so received and believed as I can anger the best of them‖ (Rowse 147). He had all those things which made the favorites of the Queen so strongly envied and spited by the people—generous royal grants of land and money, profitable monopolies, and a thriving and unique place in the court. In 1587 he was appointed Captain of the Queen‘s Guard, a post that required his steadfast presence with the Queen. This closeness was of 50 enormous significance to him, for although he became involved in many projects, including privateering and the Virginia Company, served as Member of Parliament for Devon, and patronized poets, historians, and scientists, his career always remained dependent upon the Queen‘s favor. Two elements, therefore, distinguish Raleigh's love poems from those of other poets: one is his distinctive relationship with the Queen, who was his sovereign in reality as well as his sovereign in verse; the other is his pervading sense of losing all that he had achieved. In Fragmenta Regalia, Sir Robert Naunton describes Raleigh as ―one that Fortune had picked out of purpose, of whom to make an example, or to use as her Tennis Ball . . . for she tossed him up and out of nothing, and to and fro to greatness, and from thence down to little more than to that wherein she found him, a bare gentleman‖ (71). Raleigh‘s poetry was intimately linked with his relationship to the Queen. Raleigh‘s poems are, therefore, an important force in his eminence at Court. His rise was enhanced and augmented by his courtship of the Queen, with poetry playing an important part. His success depended on the Queen‘s support, and as in the case of most courtiers, Raleigh‘s future lay utterly in the Queen‘s hands; her displeasure entailed a severe professional setback. Before his disgrace, much of Raleigh‘s poetry had concerned itself with compliments of love to the Queen. It would be in character that, after his disgrace, Raleigh would again turn to poetry to try to heal the breach between himself and his sovereign. Indeed, Raleigh‘s poetry was a crucial political element in his courtship of the Queen. His poetry sometimes served as a means of political persuasion, which did not always succeed in its aims; hence, despondency permeated his verse. 51 We perceive in the poet's persona a sense of insecurity, a sense of persecution, and a sense of injured merit. These were times of intrigue, manipulation, and cruel politics—times when, in the words of Francis Bacon, ―the rising unto place is laborious . . . and it is sometimes base . . . . The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at least an eclipse which is a melancholy thing‖ (90). For Raleigh, who had neither a title nor wealth, who was dependent upon the Queen's grace, the standing was especially slippery, and the downfall a constant threat. His rise was rapid, but his place was insecure. For, until his secret and unauthorized marriage—his ―error‖ (337) lamented in The Ocean to Scinthia was discovered—he had basked in the Queen's favor. It is his proximity to the Queen that some scholars base their opinions of him. They are less concerned with Raleigh as an artist than they are with Raleigh as a political figure who sometimes uses poetry (and prose) for political ends. It may be true that Raleigh sometimes used his poetry for those ends, but that brings us only a little closer to understanding the verse. We may not ignore the writer's intentions and purposes, but too much concern with them can lead to preconceptions that distort understanding and appreciation and result in distortions of the poetry as poetry. It is true that biographical study has its value when it is useful and illuminating. Hence, this project applies the biographical approach in order to shed light on the poetry itself and allow a more unimpeded access to it. Although the value of Raleigh‘s poems, especially after his disgrace, are augmented by the fact that their private and personal tone reveals something of the poet and his world, T.S Eliot said that in evaluating poetry, 52 the less he knew of the poem and poet before he began reading the poem, the better the reading (―Dante‖ 205). I think this has some validity for our consideration of Raleigh‘s verse without concern for the degree of correspondence to events in his life because the poetry can still be enjoyed and appreciated. When, in the fragment of the ―22 Boock, entreatinge of Sorrow,‖ he speaks of our ―. . . woe, which like the moss,/Havinge compassion of vnburied bones/Cleaves to mischance, and vnrepayred loss‖ (19-21), he not only creates a mental picture, but suggests something of loss, mutability, and the vanity of earthly greatness. Also, lost dreams could hardly be better described than ―broken monuments of [his] great desires‖ (Scinthia 14). Raleigh‘s persona conveys his pain and desolation through striking images and metaphors. For instance, he compares his heart to a corpse which retains a semblance of life, to the earth in winter, and to a mill wheel which continues to move, even though the stream has been diverted. If one follows Eliot‘s advice to read the poem apart from the life of the poet, or the interpretations and representations of others, one might fail to understand some allusions, but the reader will be rewarded by perceiving the thoughts and images of the poem, without having forced upon him the overriding picture of our fallen courtier. In Shakespeare‘s works, for instance, the themes, the characters, and the situations exist apart from and independent of the writer. One of the attributes of his genius is the personal distance he maintains. Whether the author was a knight or a peasant, joyful or sad, married or single, is of no importance when we are reading one of his sonnets or plays, because the writer stands apart from the world he creates. Yet when ambiguity does arise in Raleigh‘s compositions, we should try to consider the possibility that some ambiguity is a part of a complexity—a 53 complexity growing out of a conflict between what the poetic persona in Raleigh wished to say, and what Raleigh, the deposed courtier had to say. This is because when Elizabeth rejects Raleigh, he discovers an individual voice which acknowledges in despair the fate of an outcast, as in the anger of ―The Lie,‖ and the depth of feeling of ―The passionate mans Pilgrimage.‖ In the throes of grief and fear, it is interesting to discover the character of Raleigh as it finds expression in his poetry, for in the poetry may be found a semblance of truth about the man. Loss generates feelings of abandonment, worthlessness, and desolation; the state of being deprived of something previously or normally possessed results in grief. Grief is universal and inescapable even when its existence and impact are denied. It is composed of powerful emotions that assail us whenever we lose what is precious and dear. Moreover, the very perception of mutability, transience, and change can lead to a profound sense of loss. Indeed, loss is all around us, and all of us are susceptible to experiencing a good measure of it. We all know the pain of loss and the dark shadow it can cast on our lives. It is under such a shadow of his vulnerability to loss that Raleigh composed ―A Vision vpon this conceipt of the Faery Qveene.‖ Although the poem is written to celebrate the addition of a contemporary literary work to the ranks of classical masterpieces,1 the tone is paradoxically mournful. Such dejection is an example of how sorrow was an essential element of Raleigh‘s nature that looked to external events to express and manifest itself. Therefore, the elegiac note creeps in intentionally where praise was intended. As Peter Ure and A.D. Cousins have pointed out, most of the sonnet 54 concentrates on the theme of displacement, on the sense of abandonment and despair of those removed from prominence. Ure notes that the speaker ―seems more moved to pity by the fate of the displaced poets than pleased because a new one has outclassed them,‖ (23). Inherent here is the notion that Raleigh‘s persona shares an affinity with these ousted poets. The images of bleeding stones, hearses, groaning ghosts, and Homer's trembling spirit fill the second half of the poem. A sense of sorrow and horror rather than of joy permeates the narrative which was intended as a song of praise. It is as if the framework of death, which was to provide only the means of comparison between the contemporary poet and the classical writers, overwhelms the original scheme and assumes independent literal reality. A dirge-like hymn of praise, then, results from the essential discrepancy between the poet's natural sympathy for the defeated (classical figures) and the poem's original plan which is to celebrate Spenser‘s epic poem. In a reverential tone, the figurative action is placed in a dream sequence of which the central metaphor (of Laura‘s deposition) constitutes the first scene. The poem begins by relating how the speaker passed by Laura's grave ―To see that buried dust of liuing fame,/ Whose tumbe faire loue and fairer vertue kept‖ (4-5). Then, suddenly, a new contender for immortal fame enters the scene. The speaker watches the drama expand in the ensuing scenes as the Queen claims for herself the virtues which till then had been Laura‘s. The latter is consequently condemned to oblivion and is fiercely mourned by the wrathful ghosts of Petrarch and Homer. The soul of Petrarch weeps to see the twin graces of Beauty and Virtue leave their traditional post at Laura's grave and serve, instead, her new challenger the Faery Queen. Thereupon, ―Obliuion laid him downe on Lauras 55 herse:/Hereat the hardest stones were seene to bleed‖ (10-11). Groans of buried ghosts and gloomy images fill the world of the poem. The tone remains depressed throughout this supposedly laudatory poem, which concludes grimly with the picture of Homer's grieving spirit cursing ―the accesse of that celestiall theife‖ (14). The speaker‘s dream sequence facilitates the depiction of the Faery Queen‘s entry into the imagined world of immortal writers and their literary creations. Raleigh's apparent purpose is to celebrate Spenser's achievement by asserting that his poem would surpass all earlier accomplishments in verse, with Spenser's Gloriana2 outshining Petrarch's Laura. Homer and other poets of antiquity will lament in their graves to see Spenser seizing from them the distinction and glory once thought theirs alone. This notion, presented through the deposition of Petrarch‘s Laura by the Feary Queene, gains strength by the fact that Elizabeth's greatness is linked to England's glory—the two are inseparable. The accession of Elizabeth symbolizes, of course, the two-fold superiority of the Queen‘s moral character and of Spenser‘s literary portrayal of her. Although ―A Vision vpon This conceipt of the Faery Qveene‖ celebrates the unsurpassed virtues of Queen Elizabeth and the artistic success of Spenser's depiction of her in The Faerie Queene, an elegiac quality is infused into the narrative. As the persona seems to be more concerned with the defeated characters, Raleigh's emotional affinity with these figures probably stems from his rivalry throughout 1589 for Elizabeth's favor with the young and powerful Earl of Essex. Indeed, Raleigh felt that he had to physically remove himself for a while to his Irish estates to avoid 56 violent conflict with him and the royal anger that would surely have ensued. Biographers recall that Raleigh and Essex had agreed on one occasion to a duel, but the Queen's counselors prevented it (see more details below). The overshadowing of one party by another then was more than a mere literary motif in Raleigh's mind at the time of composition. In spite of the formal discrepancy between the joyous theme and the inexplicably melancholic tone, ―A Vision‖ is one of his notable poetic achievements because Raleigh seems to be formulating a literary statement of a theme that dominated his thought: that all joy and each achievement lack permanence, and humanity is forever destined to watch its greatest monuments fade and die. The poem, then, underscores the idea that the life of man is subject to time and death. This notion asserts that his poetic sensibility is affected by his sense of loss. Ironically, therefore, the poem is memorable more for its majestic figures of grief than for the praise of the author and royal model of The Faerie Queene, the poem‘s ostensible theme. Raleigh's persecution and injured merit can be deduced from particular events which reveal his vulnerable position with not only the Queen but also those who surrounded her. Shortly before he left for Ireland in 1589, Raleigh stood at his post just outside the Queen's private chamber when Essex, thinking Raleigh had been the cause of the former's sister being socially slighted, stormed into the Queen's chamber and abused Raleigh within Raleigh's hearing, telling the Queen what Raleigh had been, presumably a poor man without title, ―an upstart, a knave‖ (Chidsey 40). However Essex described Raleigh, the offense was enough to cause Raleigh to challenge Essex to a duel—which the Privy Council forbade and kept 57 secret from the Queen. A little later in the same summer, one observer described Raleigh as being the most hated man in England (Adamson 178) and another seemed ecstatic as he recorded that ―My Lord of Essex hath chased Mr. Raleigh from the court and confined him to Ireland‖ (Adamson 105). One anonymous popular balladeer cruelly but clearly stated Raleigh's position: ―He sits 'twixt wind and tide,/ Yet uphill he cannot ride/ For all his bloody pride‖ (Adamson 314). In his poetry, Raleigh's primary persona considers himself undervalued, feels that his service was worth much more than was reflected by the treatment he received. In The Ocean to Scinthia he speaks of others who have been given what he perceives are his rightful gifts from the Queen: ―the tokens hunge onn brest, and Kyndly worne/ ar now elcewhere disposed . . .‖ (263-64). The reference, of course, is to symbols of the Queen‘s favor which she presented to her favorites. He contends that the Queen ―[has] forgotten all [his] past deserving‖ (372). This consciousness of disparity between rank as a part of a divine plan and rank as power politics is never far below the surface. As his Cynthia is the sun, the following lines from Scinthia have distinct political implications: When shee did well, what did there elce amiss. When shee did ill what empires could haue pleased No other poure effectinge wo, or bliss, Shee gave, shee tooke, shee wounded, shee appeased. (53-6) On a biographical level, these lines suggest Raleigh‘s discovery of Guiana, which hardly impressed the Queen; she ignored him and showed no visible 58 interest in his discovery. For Raleigh, these are the distressing qualities of the Queen—her fickleness and cruelty. In these lines the strain of apprehension could easily be read. One also becomes aware of Raleigh‘s strong sense of failure to control fate of which ―she‖ is a symbolic expression and on which the gain or loss of prosperity and joy depend. In The Ocean to Scinthia, frequent allusions to loss of love constitute a kind of death. As Elizabeth is the sun, she is the source of all his power, and for him the loss of those beams of warmth is something quite different from the cruelty of a Stella or a Laura. His tragic situation overwhelms everything; from his recollections of Cinthia, to the bleak and barren country that awaits him, to the very act of writing. Indeed, the poetry itself—the circumstances of its composition, the nature of the forms and images employed, its stylistic level—turns dark and grim in keeping with the persona‘s tragic condition. His creative energy will surely suffer if he loses the love that once sustained him: it will be no more significant than the meaningless growth of plants in winter or the motion of a water wheel winding down; or, if he still has some remnant of life, the speaker is like a shipwrecked and dying sailor scratching his last words on the dust. With the first storm they will vanish. In the little time that remains available to him, he cannot begin to comprehend the complexity of his tragedy; he can never record the ―worlds of thoughts‖ within him (Scinthia 96). Relating to the central metaphor of the Queen as Phoebus is the cycle of days and seasons which is reflected throughout various sections of Raleigh's verse: When ―Phebus is dessended/ and leues a light mich like the past dayes dawning‖ (97-98), the speaker despairs to ―beginn by such a 59 partinge light/ to write the story of all ages past/ and end the same before th' approchinge night‖ (101-03). Ironically, Cynthia is related to the moon, Phoebus to the sun. With the loss of Cynthia's love, the shepherd's flock is set free to eat ―what the summer or the springe tyme yeildes,‖ (499) because the persona's heart ―which was their folde now in decay,/ by often stormes, and winters many blasts‖ (501-02) can no longer go on. His shepherd's pipe has provided false hope, and as ―deaths longe night drawes onn‖ (509) he looks back with despair at happier days. In Scinthia, this theme of dryness as the antithesis of a desirable state of symbolic greenness and happiness is most pronounced. With loss of the joys of Cynthia's beams of love, the speaker gathers ―withred leues‖ (21). A man's devotion to his beloved comes to no more than ―small dropps of rayne [that] do fall/ upon parched grounde‖ (237-38). When the Queen withdraws her beams ―all droops, all dyes, all [is] troden vnder dust‖ (253). To seek relief in tears is to ―seek for moysture in th' arabien sande‖ (478). What saddens him all the more is the realization of the fact that one‘s inner peace and bliss depend totally on external, mostly capricious agencies. These agencies seem to be delighted in withdrawing the favor and seeing the victim writing in pain: ―But glory in their lastinge missery/ That as her bewties would our woes should dure/Thes be th‘ effects of pourfull emperye‖ (198-200). This leaves the victim ―moon-embittered‖ in W. B. Yeats‘ words. The theme of vegetation, or fertility and sterility, is of course closely related both to moisture and the sun. Raleigh‘s persona says: 60 Oh love (the more my wo) to it thow art Yeven as the moysture in each plant that growes, Yeven as the soonn vnto the frosen grovnd, Yeven as the sweetness to th' incarnate rose, Yeven as the Center in each perfait rovnde, As water to the fyshe, to men as ayre, As heat to fier, as light vnto the soonn. (429-435) All of these themes linked to the behavior of the sun have implications both to the status of the monarch in Elizabethan culture, and as symbols of Raleigh's personal concern for the Queen's approval and love. Fruit, blossoms, vegetation, greenness, wetness, warmness, spring, summer, morning, and light are symbols of plentitude and grace that come from the beams of the monarch's sun. The verb ―growes‖ (54) suggests the image of something green and alive—like hope sprouting from the waste. Conversely, desolation, coldness, winter, night, and darkness come when the beams are not extended. On such undependable and flimsy ground rests one‘s career; rise and fall. We do not need to read Raleigh's biography to have a feel of the Queen's tremendous power, as Raleigh's persona explicitly reveals it to us. His lyrics reflect the concept that relationships prove to be both powerfully constructive and destructive forces in our lives, the latter more often than the former. It seems that Raleigh wanted in all earnestness to love and serve his Queen as a loyal subject. This is not to say that their relationship was perfect or ideal. Raleigh is a figure for whom the conventional courtly role of a distressed lover became painfully real. In Scinthia, the faithfully 61 obedient speaker suffers ―the honor of her loue, Loue still divisinge/ Woundinge [his] mind with contrary consayte‖ (57-58). Cinthia's disdain has thwarted his ambitions. He is forced to submit to the power of her command: To seeke new worlds, for golde, for prayse, for glory, To try desire, to try loue seuered farr, When I was gonn shee sent her memory More stronge than weare ten thowsand shipps of warr, To call mee back, to leue great honors thought, To leue my frinds, my fortune, my attempte, To leue the purpose I so longe had sought And holde both cares, and cumforts in contempt. (61-68) The parallelism, the balanced lines, the pauses, even the alliteration (particularly in the last line) elevate the simple diction to the heights of pathos. Although these lines apparently express his desire to please her, his speaker‘s tone takes on a note of bitterness. According to the persona, ―shee‖ in line 63 refers to the Queen. She had never let him do what he had so passionately desired to do—lead an expedition to the New World; both Raleigh‘s criticism of the Queen‘s fickleness and his objection to her tyranny are so intense in Scinthia that the common belief that he wrote the poem to appease his enraged Queen becomes doubtful: Throughout her reign, Elizabeth surrounded herself with an abundance of men from whom she expected expressions of desire while at the same time obstructing and carefully 62 managing their advances. This was the case with her first favorite, the Earl of Leicester, and it carried on into the last decade of her rule. (Weir 52) It seems that both fantasy and cruelty were at the very core of Elizabeth‘s nature—the former necessary for her psychological survival, the latter for political durability. However, entrenched in his own misery, Raleigh turned to poetry as he had done so often when alone and unhappy. No longer the queen's favorite, he poured out his grief to her in his verse. Approximately fifteen years before Ocean to Scinthia was written, Raleigh‘s feelings of persecution could be sensed in his commendatory poem for George Gascoigne's satire, ―In commendation of the Steele Glasse‖ (1576). To begin with, the mere existence of the metaphoric steel glass (which provides all those who choose to look in it with final, impartial evaluations of themselves) implies the attainability of absolute truths. However, few prefer the truthful reflections of the steel glass to the flattering impressions they find in the silver one. Hence, in the first stanza, Raleigh‘s persona warns Gascoigne about the common people's inability to appreciate worth. A mechanical solution to the problem is near at hand, though, and he suggests, ―But what for that? this medcine may suffyse,/ To scorne the rest, and seke to please the wise‖ (5-6). He then goes on to speak of ―...envious braynes [that] do nought (or light) esteme,/ Such stately steppes, as they cannot attaine,‖ (9-10). He notes that envious minds are also incapable of admitting any degree of excellence and then adds as if speaking of himself, ―For who so reapes, renowne aboue the rest,/ With heapes of hate, shal surely by opprest‖ (11-12). His melancholic insight therefore can spot 63 gloom in the very midst of the joyful moment; ―renowne‖ does not seem to overwhelm him as much as the sense of reflection as reflected in the eyes of the envious. Raleigh's emphasis on faithfulness being closely tied to his sense of injured merit becomes clear in his ―S.W. Raghlies Petition to the Qveene 1618.‖ More than two decades after the immediate distress of his disgrace of 1592 had subsided, when he was again confined and under penalty of death, his words in this poem reflect his anguish: If I haue sold my duetye, sold my faith, To strangers, which was only due to one, No thing I should estime so Deare as death. But if both God and tyme shall make you know That I your humblest vassall am opprest, Then cast your eyes on vndeserued woe. (28-33) He expresses feelings of being ill-treated that he had come to associate with the fickleness of his sovereign––James I. There is no hope for his present misery. In stark contrast to the former Queen‘s power and authority, Queen Anne, who was sympathetic, could do little for Raleigh. However, mindful of the unprincipled practices that surround the court, he affirms his integrity. The repetition of the word ―sold‖ powerfully evokes sentiments of corruption. While he himself has not ―sold‖ or betrayed the Monarchy, the dishonor and treachery of those who should rather be noble and virtuous troubled him greatly. The speaker‘s woe, here, appears final; there is no 64 hope for forgiveness as there was in Scinthia. Therefore, the tone of finality is quite pronounced. After the circumstances of 1603, Raleigh‘s persona realizes that his loss is not just loss of his wealth; nor is it merely the loss of his participation in the Court. Neither is his loss the loss of a lover. Rather, his is the loss of a Queen who roused his best qualities—namely his duty, faith, and devotion. Moreover, the tragedy of ―vndeserued woe‖ seemed to be a preoccupation of Raleigh's after 1603. Raleigh might have been thinking not only of the Queen‘s death, but of his arrest and conviction and sentencing for treason against King James. Whether intimate or distant, Raleigh had benefited from the Queen‘s love fairly steadily and quite profitably until her death. Her death and subsequent events, over which he had no control, caused him far more pain and ―woe‖ than his own actions (secret marriage) ever could. Time, therefore, did not necessarily reveal truth when faced with injustice, and man's honor was ultimately judged and rewarded only by God. Nowhere else can man turn: Mercie is fled to God which Mercie made, Compassion dead, Faith turn‘d to Pollicye, Freinds know not those who site in Sorrows shade. For what wee sometyme were wee are no more, Fortune hath chang'd our shape, and Destinie Defac'd the vearye forme wee had before. (4-9) The speaker‘s deepest emotional hurt is revealed through painful words that 65 reinforce his tragic situation: compassion which is dead; policies that override faith; and friends who prove deceitful. Most depressing for the persona is how far he has been reduced—no more is he that dashing young courtier envied by all. Instead, he is the one whose very form and shape have been defaced. What he once was is a painful reminder of his tremendous loss. In all this, Raleigh is not only indulging in a bit of self pity, and in so doing revealing something about himself, but simultaneously revealing something about the world in which he lived. Indeed, Raleigh's poems are worthy of serious study both because of the poet's talent and because of the insights he provides into Renaissance life. One of the purposes in reading his poetry must be to discover what it is in the verse that makes it so compelling and why, in spite of some obscurities, one feels that each time after reading the work, especially the more personal compositions, that one has experienced something more intense and intimate than expected from Elizabethan poetry. Raleigh‘s poetry animates a significant time in history and breathes life into it every time that it is read. We overhear and re-live the passion, intensity, and frustration that is Raleigh‘s life. He is revealing his personal reaction to conditions described by Spenser, who in Colin Clouts Come Home Againe described the court as a place: Where each one seeks with malice and with strife To thrust downe other into foule disgrace Himself to raise and he doth soonest rise ……………………………………………… Either by slaundering his well deemed name 66 Through leasings lewd, and fained forgerie: Or else by breeding him some blot or blame. (690-92, 695-97) Opposition was indeed everywhere. Indications are that almost everybody who was anybody at court hated Raleigh, instigated Essex against him, and was more than ready to believe any unfavorable rumor about him that was circulated. Chidsey illustrates the dynamics behind this hatred: For all the opposition to him was concentrated now, centered in the person of an irresponsible boy who had the Queen‘s ear morning, noon and night. The two men were doomed to be enemies. Raleigh seems to have borne no personal grudge against Essex, but the young fire-eater was in his way. As for Essex, he never had a chance to like Raleigh. A feudal knighterrant, inspired by ideas long since outworn, he considered the ―upstart‖ an affront to the nobility of the realm. ―That knave Raleigh‖ he called him. Yet he might even have come to like Walter Raleigh if only his friends had permitted it. His friends were many; they were vehement; and they were, all of them, Raleigh-haters. Whatever displeased young Essex, he heard that Raleigh was the cause of it. Whenever the Queen was chilly, he was told that this was because Raleigh had been lying to her. Raleigh was at the bottom of it all. Everything that Raleigh did was wicked, and nothing that Raleigh did was right, and the sooner England got rid of the scoundrel the better it would be for England. (78) 67 This relates to a reverence for rank, which was strong in the cultural heritage of Raleigh's England. Unlike Essex, Raleigh was dependent on his personal intimacy with the Queen. Whereas Essex had his noble and powerful family to advance him, Raleigh had no such ally—only his wit and charm. So when the Queen was upset, the skies darkened: ―Did but decline her beames as discontented/Convertinge sweetest dayes to saddest night‖ (Scinthia 25152). This seems to explain the intensity with which Raleigh played the role of the courtly lover. He was not an Earl, a cousin to the Queen, or a man of inherited fortune and nobility. He was one whose relatively low title of Knight was the gift of the Queen. That Raleigh understood the implications of rank cannot be questioned. The scornful hostility towards him is palpable: when he refers to the cedar tree in Ocean to Scinthia, he is alluding to a tree far superior in degree to lesser trees. In the world of plants an analogue to the Queen: ―On highest mountaynes wher thos Sedars grew/ agaynst whose bancks, the trobled ocean bett‖ (483-484). The troubled ocean beating against the banks conjures images of inner turmoil and distress as he navigates the turbulent waters of his own grief. The deaf and dumb attitude of the banks suggests the callousness and stone-heartedness of the Queen to whom his pleadings went unheeded, just as the ocean‘s pleadings could not elicit a response from the ―bancks.‖ And it is most significant that in a poem addressed to Cynthia, the central metaphor is the sun rather than the moon. Although he may have served himself throughout his career, he clearly served his monarch as well, and through his poetry he expresses his genuine sense of the priorities of honor. Raleigh's concern with honor and faithfulness is clear as early as 1576 in his commendatory verse on 68 Gascoigne's ―The Steele Glasse.‖ One‘s life, he says, ―were pure that never swerved‖ (2). But it is not until after estrangement from the Queen that the theme becomes dominant in the ―Fallen courtier‖ poems. He insists upon his loyalty in Scinthia, and it is probable that he felt the strength of his own oath to the Queen. He passionately expresses his full allegiance, and his marriage gives no serious reason to doubt his support of and devotion to the Queen: ―When longe in silence served, and obayed/With secret hart, and hidden loyaltye‖ (Scinthia, 398-99). It seems that silence is a cloak under which the persona seeks warmth and protection; inside the folds of that cloak may hide immense sorrow and profound hurt. In Reality, his devotion to the dying Queen while other courtiers were more actively transferring their allegiance to James of Scotland is an example of his loyalty. Raleigh‘s faithfulness to his ailing Queen displays itself in the episode concerning James VI‘s emissary: when the Earl of Lennox approached him in 1601 on behalf of King James of Scotland to see where he stood in the event of any dispute over the accession, Raleigh expressed his reluctance to discuss such matters while Elizabeth was still alive. Raleigh‘s loyalty to the Queen was offensive to James, who branded Raleigh an enemy. When almost all the prominent men of Queen Elizabeth‘s last years were befriending and pledging their support for James I, Raleigh maintained his loyalty to the end. Trevelyan relates how Raleigh turned down the suggestion of a secret meeting, merely saying that he was . . . engaged and obliged to his own mistress to seek favor anywhere else that should divert his eye or diminish his sole respect to his sovereign. (342) 69 He was naive to assume that friendship (particularly that of Robert Cecil) held pre-eminence over political opportunity; whereas an opportunist would neither have hesitated nor missed the first chance to switch loyalties. There is no reason to believe that Raleigh's concern with honor and keeping faith was not genuine. His claim to Queen Anne that he had not in fact broken his oath to his sovereign (whether Elizabeth or James) may well be true: ―If I haue sold my duetye, sold my faith,/ To strangers, which was only due to one,/ No thing I should estime so deare as Death‖ (―S.W. Raghlies Petition to the Qveene 1618‖ 28-30). For Raleigh, honesty and faithfulness provided a constancy that challenged time. This is made clear in his commendatory verses to Sir Arthur Gorges' translation of Lucan. As a public poem in the tradition of commendatory praises, it is striking in its applicability to Raleigh's own situation. Raleigh had himself been unjustly accused and confined to the Tower for more than ten years when the poem was published. He had been working on his History for many of those years and was therefore familiar, both personally and historically, with the dangers of truthfulness: Had Lucan hid the truth to please the time, He had beene to vnworthy of thy Penne: Who neuer sought, nor euer car'd to clime By flattery, or seeking worthlesse men. For this thou hast been bruis'd: but yet those scarres Do beautifie no lesse, then those wounds do Receiu'd in just, and in religious warres; Though thou hast bled by both, and bearst them too. (1-8) 70 The speaker here dramatizes society‘s predatory nature that bruises and hurts an individual and prevents him from leading a worthy life. Gorges, a morally upright man, refuses to climb the ladder of social success in order not to compromise his integrity. He is then bruised, wounded, and bled by the retaliatory attacks of society, while he remains adamant and ―with a manly faith resolues to dye‖ (10). Gorges is commended for his life-time record of dedication to truth and scorn of self-betterment through flattery; these virtues specify the nature of poets' weakness, who sometimes flatters those who do not deserve flattery. Like all war heroes, at death he has exchanged his mortality for lasting fame. Raleigh‘s persona considers the interests of art and worldly success to be basically conflicting because the artist who remains true to his word will have little success. Accordingly, the poet can preserve his moral and artistic integrity, he believes, only at the expense of continual self-sacrifice. The concept of the creative writer as a generally misunderstood and abused man therefore dominates the narrative in this composition. In his address to Gorges (the translator of Lucan), rather than engaging in attacks against the multitude and its ignorant way, the persona directs his efforts primarily to the defense and commendation of poets. He compares the wrongs which the writer suffers at the hands of common people to the ―beautifying‖ wounds of war heroes: ―For this thou hast been bruis‘d: but yet those scarres/ Do beautifie no lesse, then those wounds do/ Receiu‘d in iust, and in religious warres‖ (5-7). Such scars, the speaker maintains, are the unmistakable signs of the resilience and sense of commitment with which the poet and the war hero defend their respective, just causes. 71 What sets this poem apart from poems such as ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light,‖ is that its metaphors are dramatic in nature. In other words, the persona deploys images which express dynamic (not merely static) relationships that are complex and experiential. The power of the metaphor is owing to its philosophical and personal qualities. The speaker‘s deeply personal attitude toward those who commit and those who suffer injustice, concerns his experience and understanding of how the Court operates. One hears the very personal voice of the speaker who has failed, suffered, and by his own experience, faced the injustices perpetrated by man. Raleigh's persona here warns his cousin Gorges not to change his way because ―. . . to change thy fortune tis too late‖ (9). Moral constancy has its own rewards; unlike the uncertain fortunes of those who ―. . . clime/By flattery, or seeking worthlesse men‖ (3-4). In an oblique reference to his own active life as not only a poet in the court of Elizabeth, but as commander of military and navigational enterprises and one who was now facing the prospect of execution, the poet/speaker offers the parallel for his own determination not to flatter others. The honorable author ―may promise to himselfe a lasting state,/ Though not so great, yet free from infamy‖ (1112). The reader cannot help feeling that there is a degree of bitterness here. The possibility that he would accept a life that is ―not so great‖ is unlikely given Raleigh‘s character and history. Perhaps the purpose of this line is to direct the persona‘s thought to an honest appraisal of the situation as it exists, not as it used to be in the past and not as he might want to pretend it is now. The persona suggests that if the poet is a man of integrity, he will attain lasting fame through his art, and lasting peace of mind through selfrespect. Lucan, he concludes, is such a poet as he has described, and his 72 translator, sharing those qualities, is equal to the task of translation. Like ―To the Translator of Lvcan,‖ ―Vertve the best monvment‖ offers a similar moral view on virtue. The poem is primarily concerned with the possibility of man transcending time's destructiveness by leaving his lasting imprint upon life, proposed through worthy achievements that properly commemorate his virtuous character. ―Actions crowne virtues . . .‖ (5) it observes, indicating that potential virtue, like an uncrowned prince, has only suspended legitimacy and power. Action is the life-blood of greatness and ―sweetlie moue[s] with natures harmony‖ (7), in that it gives constructive direction to the natural principle of change. Yet, a melancholic strain running throughout the poem suggests sorrow emanating from personal impediments to this idealistic notion. We sense the speaker‘s frustration towards external forces that hamper noteworthy action and progress. Lives that ―moue,‖ that ―puls[ate],‖ and are ―aliue‖ are positioned against those who remain stagnant: ―Whither the soule of‘s greatnes sweetlie moue/With natures harmony: which standing still/Or faintlie beateinge shew them dead or ill‖ (6-8). This moral scheme defines passivity as spiritual sickness or death and deems it especially reprehensible in those who are potentially capable of noteworthy achievements (a prime Renaissance ideal). Thus, the closing line‘s image of death reflects the opening line‘s reference to Caeser: ―Not Caesers birth made Caeser to suruiue‖ (1), ominously foreshadowing Raleigh‘s unjust demise. Therefore, we sense the futility behind the speaker‘s argument for a constructive participation in life as being the key to personal fulfillment and fame. This implies that the virtuous man, in the present state of the world, is least favoured by fortune; his desire to leave some mark upon the world is, consequently, vain. 73 When Raleigh‘s persona expresses a theme so prevalent in his poetry, namely, that he will remain noble, loyal, and virtuous regardless of loss, decay, and the duplicity of others around him, he is referring to one true constant: the honor of a man who keeps faith with his proper purpose and his own word. This is a major theme in Scinthia where the speaker is ever sensitive to the ―wits malicious‖ (405) who would weaken the bonds of loyalty and devotion he extends to the Queen; it is also present in the ―Petition to Qveene Anne‖ as well as in his poem to Arthur Gorges on the latter's translation of Lucan's Pharsalia. However, constancy in love, whether it is the constancy of the lady's beauty in the eyes of the beholder or the constancy of the lover-vassal's devotion to his mistress, is inadequate against a world of change, in which most things eventually disintegrate. In fact, this vision of the impermanence of love and beauty forms the basis of many of Raleigh's poetic statements on this theme, such as his answer to Christopher Marlowe in ―The Nimphs reply to the Sheepheard.‖ The poem introduces philosophical thoughts alien to the ideal world constructed. It puts, for example, in the very first line, the question of Mutability which has here both a cosmic and a personal significance, suggesting both that the world is no longer young and that love alters with time. Here the images of death and decay are central to the poem, for Raleigh does to pastoralism what he does to petrarchism in ―Nature that washt her hands in milke‖—he subjects it to the pressure of rationalism based firmly on awareness of the devouring power of time: ―Time drives the flocks from field to fold,/ When Rivers rage, and Rockes grow cold,‖ (5-6). Apparently, there is nothing in life that will always be there when we want it 74 to be nor is there anything in life that will behave the way we want it to. No one is immune from the inherent sorrows and changes of form. Yeats in Sailing to Byzantium, captures the essential sadness that accompanies the aging process: ―Whatever is begotten, born, and dies,‖ (6) and ―An aged man is but a paltry thing/A tattered coat upon a stick‖ (10). It also reminds us of Eliot‘s Prufrock growing bald and weak in his waiting for the right moment, ever elusive though, to strike. There is no possession or state of being therefore that cannot be lost, or broken, or faded, or rusted. Jerry Leath Mills has called this poem a ―witty and sardonic‖ (23) response to Marlowe‘s poem by pointedly demonstrating ―the human propensity for self-delusion‖ (23). Conversely, Marlowe's prelapsarian thinking Shepherd indulges in a conventional pastoral escapist fantasy for which the proper antidote to human problems is a stoic sort of withdrawal from social complexity into a natural setting, whose beauty transcends all the distractions of life in the city or court. However, the nymph is aware how change, imperfection, uncertainty, vulnerability, and loss are part of life; they challenge us in ways that ordinary issues do not. They are constants in life, too important to ignore and are persistently provocative. Raleigh's ―nymph‖ concedes that the promise of a paradise of perpetual youth and joy is a false promise no mortal can experience because ―The flowers doe fade, and wanton fieldes,/ To wayward winter reckoning yieldes‖ (9-10). The Nymph‘s words prove insightful and devastatingly realistic. This poem is in sharp contrast to Marlowe‘s composition: here, convention is rejected and love is demystified and made real by the 75 dismantling of the pastoral convention. Whereas the ―pastoral tends to be an idealization of shepherd life and . . . creates an image of a peaceful and uncorrupted existence; a kind of pre-lapsarian world‖ (Cuddon 686), the experience of loss dramatically subverts the pastoral and brings his speaker face-to-face with the great mysteries of life involved with human condition. Here, his speaker understands how small and insignificant she and her lover are when compared with the vast expanses of time. She questions how she is expected to live with the change and impermanence that pervade their lives, and understands that they have little to no control over the many things that happen to them. Raleigh gives expression to the darker aspects of the speaker's thought. In answer to Marlowe's pastoral lyric describing the simple pleasures of the rustic life, Raleigh's persona recounts in brooding tones the forms of decay and mortality which she can find in nature. She depicts a winter scene in which most elements of nature droop and die and ―the rest complaines of cares to come‖ (8). Not only will winter's impending cold deprive the rustic couple of their pastoral pleasures, but mortality will deprive them of life. We cannot trust ―A honny tongue‖ because it may hide ―a hart of gall,‖ which ―Is fancies spring, but sorrowes fall‖ (11-12). These words derive vitality not primarily from the way they reflect the workings of a skeptical mind; they are alive and vibrant because they capture a sense of something outside of themselves. For instance, the word ―fall‖ carries a highly compact set of meanings beyond the surface meaning of a season. The word alludes to inadequacy, failure, and defeat. If Marlowe's shepherd is the voice of innocence and youth, then Raleigh's nymph is that of experience and wisdom. Morbid and pessimistic, his answer takes a much more serious turn than that expressed in Marlowe's light-hearted verse. ―The Nymphs reply‖ memorably expresses Raleigh's peculiar susceptibility to 76 brooding: ―Thy gownes, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,/ Thy cap, they kirtle, and thy poesies,/ soone breake, soone wither, soone forgotten‖ (13-15). A tragic sense of man‘s mutable and mortal state through nouns like gowns, shoes, roses, and (most jarring) poems is juxtaposed with verbs like break, wither, and forgotten. The tragic loss here that stems from apparent personal suffering is great. ―The Nymphs reply‖ serves to underline the rejection of poetic commonplaces as ultimately worthless, and moves towards a more personal poetic expression than the formulaic stylizations of pastoral poetry can allow. The poem implies a state of profound sorrow, one that cannot be alleviated by the conventions of the pastoral because the nymph‘s words are rooted in the knowledge that shepherds lie, that youth ―wither[s],‖ that ―flowers‖ do not last, and that words ―can[not] moue‖ (19) her ―to live with [him], and be [his] loue‖ (24). As innocent words are central to the pastoral realm they represent, they are systematically disempowered by the speaker. David Baker and Ann Townsend point out: The pastoral sings of the ideal, the green world perfected, of paradise not-yet-lost. It is the Edenic garden world not yet spoiled by thinking and feeling. But thinking and feeling are the very things that happen in pastorals. (141) If one identifies the words with the nymph‘s own beliefs, the implications are subversive because she is undercutting the very poetic process by which Marlowe‘s poem makes its point. She achieves this subversion by arguing that ―had ioyes no date, nor age no neede‖ (22), then his enticing words 77 would be more persuasive and carry more weight. The lines here echo an uneasy awareness of the world outside the pastoral; the convention‘s own verbal processes are incapable of adequately expressing the harsh realities of the world. Youth that withers and flowers that die become so personal that we are almost forced to direct our assessment of the composition to the specific issues surrounding our insecure courtier. Whereas the world of the pastoral is traditionally exalted over the sophisticated, superficial, and artificial world of the Court with its rituals of manners, for Raleigh, the Court was life itself, and to be banished from the Court was a kind of death. Raleigh‘s retreat to Sherbourne in 1592 was forced on him; he was no willing exile. Adamson and Folland explain how Raleigh‘s preoccupation with pastoral images probably developed: Raleigh enjoyed the Pastoral convention, but was amused by its artificiality. In reality he could think of nothing more contemptible than the keeping of sheep, but he was happy to use the fiction to tease and play with Elizabeth in the pastoral mode. And she developed a pleasant little conceit. It occurred to her that her Water, as she called him in his own Westcountry dialect, had much to do with the ocean; he was, in fact obsessed with oceanic enterprises so she began to call him the Shepherd of the Ocean. (943) Raleigh could, behind the mask of lamenting the passing of a shepherd's joys, express the fickleness of fortune, the devouring jaws of time and emphasize his shattered, tormented, and grief-stricken self. The general 78 format of the pastoral elegy satisfied his present needs. As Puttenham pointed out in The Art of English Poesie, it was a respected tradition thought by many to have preceded ―the Satyre, Comedie, or Traqedie‖ as an art form. But more important, according to him, the pastoral was designed (and served) . . . not of purpose to counterfait or represent the rusticall manner of loves and communication, but under the vaile of homely persons and in rude speeches to insinuate and glaunce at greater matters, and such as perchaunce had not bene safe to have beene disclosed in any other sort. (Hardison 167) This was Raleigh's situation exactly; he could combine the eclogue and the elegy. He could draw his symbols from nature—the sun, a drop of rain, summer, winter, light, darkness, greenness, parched earth, snow, and silk. Therefore, a poignant expression of this idea of mutability in love and beauty is Raleigh's ―Nature that washed her hands in milk.‖ This is another poem that reveals a discrepancy between its initial theme and tone. Here, the persona begins on a lighthearted tone to recount a story that will explain the cruelty of his otherwise flawless mistress. The speaker turns to the Petrarchan tradition, but with a powerful assertion of the way that time and mutability destroy all hopes and desires with their idealizing philosophies of establishing permanence on earth. Raleigh begins with the speaker idealizing his lady in typical Petrarchan form, then moves on to the predictable lack of responsiveness of the proud and tyrannizing beauty, who plays the game with all the aloofness and stoniness of heart that the role of 79 ―cruelty‖ requires. Yet Time is not impressed, nor tolerant of the selfdeluding attitude of either party. From the outset we are told how ―Nature that washt her hands in milke‖ (1) formed her out of ―snow and silke‖ (3), instead of earth, ―to please Loues fancy‖ (6). Instead of plain water, Nature washes with milk—a known beauty treatment suggesting wasteful luxury in order to create perfect beauty. Next she chooses snow and silk as materials to create Love‘s perfect mistress. The connotations of purity, coolness, wealth, and smoothness are heightened through alliteration. However, that the mistress is composed of a mixture of milk, snow, and silk points to the unstable combination of these substances: the first sours, the second melts, and the third tatters. The opening image of a forgetful Nature personified as an artist with wet hands serves the lightness of tone at the beginning. In the first part of the poem, then, the persona is playful and imaginative. The length of the line is capricious as well: two lines of seven syllables in the first stanza, two lines of nine syllables in the second stanza, and a couplet of eighteen syllables in the third stanza. With the entry of Time into the poem in stanza four, the prosody becomes more regular. But love, with its typical capriciousness, insists on having ―for her inside . . . / only of wantonnesse and witt‖ (11-12). Consequently, ―loue by ill destinie/Must dye for her whom nature gaue him/ Because her darling would not saue him‖ (16-18). At this juncture the solemn figure of Time ominously enters the narrative, signaling a more serious turn of thought than that displayed in the witty inventions of the previous lines: But Time which nature doth despise, 80 and rudely giues her loue the lye, makes hope a foole, and sorrow wise, his hands doth neither wash, nor dry, But being made of steele and rust, turnes snow, and silke, and milke to dust. (19-24) Nature despises time because the latter ―rudely gives [Nature‘s] loue the lye‖ (20) (as in Spenser‘s Cantos of Mutabilitie, the seasons are symbols of Time‘s sovereignty, and yet defy him by their cyclical nature). The speaker is here working with traditional conventions, but the value of this work depends on the skill with which it is expressed. Raleigh here appears to be a good example of what Eliot calls a mature poet in ―Tradition and the Individual Talent‖: ―. . . the mind of the mature poet differs from that of the immature one not precisely in any valuation of ‗personality,‘ not being necessarily more interesting, or having ‗more to say,‘ but rather by being a more finely perfected medium in which special, or varied, feelings are at liberty to enter into new combinations‖ (40-41). Hence time is personified with hands of steel and rust conveying images of inflexibility, callousness, and ugliness of a monster. Such a description of Time captures the essence of a mighty, relentless destroyer. Moreover, the action of Nature washing her hands is subverted by Time to achieve a sinister irony: ―His hands doth neither wash, nor dry‖ (22). The exploitation of grammatical gender through the position of the pronoun also increases the ironic shift from fancy to reality, enforcing the opposition between feminine Nature and masculine Time. ―Nature that washt her hands‖ is set off in dramatic opposition to: ―His hands doth neither wash, nor dry.‖ Another subversion comes in the form of the lady; once food for joy, she is now food for worms. Thus, Time 81 here is a brutal, aggressive force that has compassion for nothing and takes delight in turning everything beautiful and likeable into a thing despicable and repulsive. The attributes that have taken Nature three stanzas to develop, Time systematically destroys in a few lines: Time ―Turnes snow, and silke, and milke, to dust,/ The Light, the Belly, lipps and breath,/ He dims, discolors, and destroyes‖ (24-26). The alliteration of the ―d‖ sound, underscores Time‘s destructiveness; brutal and violent. As such we do not witness the speaker urging the hard-hearted mistress to yield to him; it makes no difference whether she surrenders herself to him or not. Time is indifferent to relationships that ultimately end in the grave. Clearly, the speaker had aspirations and hopes, but now his sorrows resulting from his disappointments and failures have made him wiser: ―Makes hope a foole, and sorrow wise‖ (21). The last two stanzas further elaborate the theme of loss, concluding the narrative on a grave note in which little of the poem's initial cheerfulness could survive. The tone of the poem thus shifts from a superficial consideration of beauty to a lamentation of the loss of beauty, or rather, given transient nature of beauty, to a lament of a more universal scope. Not only does Time destroy beauty, but in the grave does ―[shut] up the story of all our dayes‖ (37). The last stanza contains a note of bitterness at the ―unfairness‖ of Time. The unexpected gloom provides one more example of the persona‘s tendency to surrender to melancholy: Oh cruell Time which takes in trust Our youth, our Joyes and all we haue, And payes us but with age and dust, 82 Who in the darke and silent graue When we haue wandred all our wayes Shutts up the story of our dayes. (31-36) Raleigh is not the only poet to grapple with the fleeting female beauty or the transitory nature of the human condition. Others, too, have fore grounded this aspect of Time: ―Time as a universal cosmic principle has been described in poetry from the Orphic Hymns to Edna St. Vincent Millay and Aldous Huxley, in philosophy from Zeno to Einstein and Weyl, and in art from the sculptors and painters of classical antiquity to Salvador Dali‖ (Panofsky 91). However, characteristic of Raleigh is the fact that he advances these themes beyond the scope of the complaint poem, rather than turning back on it, while giving a stern warning to coy mistresses. Implicit in these lines is a deeper meaning that goes beyond the hard-hearted beauty that deserves her fate. With the shift in tone from sadness to bitterness made apparent by the apostrophe, ―Oh cruel Time‖ is a potent utterance against the injustice of a world which ―pays‖ us but ―with age and dust.‖ The image of Time as a slayer of mankind inserts an implicit meaning beneath the term ―story‖ as a metaphor for fame and worldly renown. For a man of Raleigh‘s immeasurable aspirations to have his story silenced by the wretchedness of his dark and tragic circumstances must have greatly pained him. He is horrified that his reputation will disappear into and dissipate in the grave. His personal tragedy becomes evident; the grave which the speaker points out as man‘s ultimate dwelling leads him to what appears to be a very personal reflection on his own thwarted efforts to leave a lasting legacy. The persona‘s juxtaposition of man‘s weakness and temporality against the power of Time, lays before us the awful reality of a life that turns to dust, 83 and the emphasis that devouring time triumphs over Man. Raleigh‘s final image is one that points to the depth of his being and reveals his utmost despair. Such despair is in line with that side of his personality that I will uncover in the ―Fallen courtier‖ poems in the next chapter. 84 Notes, Chapter II 1 The poem was included among a group of congratulatory verses printed with the first three books of The Faerie Queene, whose publication in 1590, if one is to believe Spenser's account in Colin Clouts Come Home Againe (1595), owed something to Raleigh's encouragement, as its favorable reception by Elizabeth owed something to Raleigh's recommendation. 2 Gloriana, by Spenser's own assertion, represents Elizabeth. The first reference made to her appears in ―Book I canto 1‖: Upon a great adventure he was bond, The greatest Glorinan to him gave, That greatest glorious queene of Faery Lond To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have 85 Chapter III The Voice behind the Loss “The voyce of woe, or face of Miserie‖ (―Conjectvral First Draft‖ 15) 86 In Raleigh's poetry, there are two voices—the voice of a ―favorite courtier‖ and the voice of a ―fallen courtier.‖ The former coincides with the years before Raleigh‘s fall from grace, namely before 1589; the latter voice is heard in poems after the turbulence of 1589 in general and 1592 in particular. The first voice, conscious of his precarious situation and the subtle relationship between a courtier and the Queen addresses a formal audience with polite self-control. Consequently, the speaker displays in these pieces a certain degree of self-conscious restraint and tends to adopt an argumentative style that works towards rhetorical persuasion. Through these love poems, Raleigh's persona pleads, flatters, and indulges in self pity, all while addressing the mistress in the 'polite' tones of the courtly tradition. The poems, ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmless light‖ and ―Farewell to the Court‖ represent contrasting phases in Raleigh‘s relationship with the Queen: the former with its essentially anonymous speaker, its tone of reverence, its sense of timelessness, and, of course, its transcendent goddess; and the latter with its personal voice, emotional intensity, its tone of sorrow and regret, its deep consciousness of time, and its almost total absorption in the persona‘s emotions. In the ―fallen‖ pieces, Raleigh speaks of love and especially of its pain in a private tone. Indeed, tone is an important element in unlocking the voice behind the work. For Baron Wormser and David Capella: Tone is the emotional fingerprint of a poem . . . [it] is the result of all the artistic choice about words, sounds, rhythm, syntax, The terms ―Favorite courtier‖ and ―Fallen courtier‖ will also be referred to as ―first voice‖ and ―second voice,‖ respectively. 87 and line, plus the emotional point of view of the poem. How close the poet is to her or his subject (or how ambivalent or anxious or distant) dictates a great deal about what the poem‘s tone will be like . . . but the most crucial factor is a very hard one to define: the degree of feeling the poem demonstrates. (199-200) Although an awareness of his biography enhances our appreciation of the voice behind the poetry, the powerful feelings that Raleigh expresses are at times conveyed regardless of the persona, or his plight. Through similes and metaphors, apart from other figurative devices, Raleigh relates images of considerable power: leaves without sun, earth without water, trees without fruit, a sailor without a beacon, a lamb sucking at dry dugs, broken monuments of great desires—all speak of something that is gone. Icicles that melt as wasted drops, small drops of rain upon parched earth, a stream that will not long be held back by a dam, bolted doors, dialogue with dead walls, unburied bones, the act of sitting in sorrow‘s shade—all speak of hopelessness. Both moist tears upon cold marble and the sun behind a cloud foreshadow disaster. Whatever the biographical or narrative argument, the images in the poems are of loss, mutability, and impermanence––desperate loss, and irresistible volatility. A man might struggle in chains, but only to land himself in greater pain; a plant retains some green after the sun ceases to shine; a body will for a short time remain warm after the heart stops beating; a mill wheel will continue for a little while to turn by the leftover energy. However mightily they strive to remain that which they have been, without life-force they will succumb to that common fate of all—waning and degeneration. 88 Metaphor is, therefore, one of the most important elements in Raleigh's poetic style of expression, and in most of his poems the nature of the poetic voice largely determines the metaphoric structure as it is related to loss of some kind. Raleigh's imagery is hardly ever oblique or unusual. In fact, a large portion of his imagery derives from the familiar phenomena of life and is simple and functional. For instance, a commonplace judicial conceit provides the formal framework of ―The Excvse‖ in which the speaker interrogates his eyes and his heart in an attempt to discover the culprit responsible for his enslavement in love. The self is then found to be guilty and the poem concludes with a reconciliatory vow of constancy to the mistress. Fire and the various stages of combustion from hot coals to ashes also provide some of the most recurrent, basic images in Raleigh's works: Love is a ―durable fyre‖ (in ―As yov came from the holy land‖); Death quells ―the dying ember [of Prince Henry's life] with cold ashes‖ (―A Songe‖ 9); and ―The Sorrows which themselves for vs have wrought/Ar burnt to Cinders by new kyndled fiers,/ The ashes ar dispeirst into the ayre‖ (Ocean to Scinthia 283-84). The metaphoric structure of ―Like to a Hermite poore‖ is composed of equally simple figures of speech. The speaker relates his spiritual impoverishment and sense of despair in an allegorical description of a hermit's physically and emotionally deprived life. In ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ he expresses the same general idea by calling upon the common experience of dislocation in strange surroundings. Thus, Raleigh uses simple images of common, everyday phenomena often with great versatility and effectiveness to express a whole range of complex ideas and emotions anchored in his sense of loss. The crucial factor in his poetry, therefore, is the particular manner in which an image is used. 89 Indeed, metaphor provides a formal vehicle for a witty argument in ―The Excvse.‖ The purpose of this poem, written in the tradition of polite verse, is obviously to praise the mistress. However, this kind of poem has a function beyond flattery, self-ostentation, and light entertainment. Like ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmless light,‖ such verses provided— primarily for Raleigh himself—a deep reassurance. Superficial, static, and quite conventional, they evoke a world of shared values, a world in which the individual is almost indistinguishable from the society at large. The sixteenth century was not an age in which originality as such was greatly prized in literature. For instance, when people such as Ben Jonson spoke of ―imitation,‖ he not only meant a reproduction of the forms of nature, but a likeness to works of other writers, particularly Latin classical writers (Timber 31). As is characteristic of Raleigh, especially in these ―favorite‖ courtier lyrics, he writes within the conventionally idealistic atmosphere of the Court. Elizabeth assumed during her long reign the role of the Virgin to be worshipped by all her knights. E. C. Wilson highlights how ―perfect and unfaltering obedience to his lady was incumbent upon every courtly lover‖ (197). Like other poets, therefore, Raleigh draws on common imagery and themes in order to profess his dedication to Elizabeth; that is why most of his ―favorite‖ courtier poetry cannot be distinguished from the poems of his contemporaries. Even while they speak of the ―defeat‖ of the lover whose heart is held in shackles, they bear witness to a public, comprehensible world. Raleigh‘s courtly poems reflect the atmosphere and the unique set of circumstances that life at court as a day-to-day reality creates. 90 Accordingly, Raleigh‘s persona delineates the fullness of his devotion to the mistress. Deploying an extended judicial conceit, the speaker sits in judgment of his faculties as he tries to ascertain which one of them has betrayed him in love. The metaphysical conceit of the trial enables the speaker to pay the lady an elegant compliment in a formally restrained tone. The speaker-judge presides over an investigation into the original cause of his present sufferings in love. Under threats of violent punishment, the eye, the heart, and finally the self are called upon to exonerate themselves from the crime. As the eye, the heart, and self are called in to prove their innocence, each one does so by pointing to the disarming beauty of the mistress. Each one pleads its innocence in terms of a graceful compliment describing the irresistible charms of the lady. Thus, the speaker's professed rage against each possible culprit is readily pacified by the recollection of his mistress‘ beauty. The self is found to be the culprit, and the conflict is resolved with a play upon words relating the speaker's reconciliation with himself and his love for her. Finally, the self is acquitted on the grounds that ―when I found my selfe to you was true,/ I lou'd my selfe, bicause my selfe lou'd you‖ (17-18). The entire poem takes place within the confines of the initial court-room metaphor. It is ironic that Raleigh will find himself in a real court-room on charges of treason. Unlike this fanciful little verse composed for a Queen who encouraged such adoration in her courtiers, Raleigh will discover the futility in pleading his innocence within the bleak and oppressive world of King James. Raleigh's application of popular conventions and traditions, most notably the comparison of the moon to the Queen, and the immunity of Platonic love to the ravages of time is readily apparent in his ―favorite 91 courtier‖ poetry. Obviously, such verses of praise must have pleased the aging Queen and enabled Raleigh to maintain and perpetuate the intricate game of courtship which was vital for any courtier with aspirations to flourish and thrive in the Court, ―. . . for nothing vanishes faster than courtly favour‖ (Spiller 128). They also enabled him to exhibit the graceful wit and skill characteristic of an accomplished gentleman. In The Book of the Courtier, Castiglione, for example, had instructed that the courtier be ―skilled at writing both verse and prose, especially in our own language: for in addition to the personal satisfaction this will give him, it will enable him to provide constant entertainment for the ladies, who are usually very fond of such things‖ (90). Of course, Raleigh is referring not to just any lady but the Queen of England. In his poems, she is the Faerie Queene, Belphoebe, or Cynthia. It is not difficult to understand why poets of the Elizabethan period, like Spenser and Greville, saluted their virgin Queen with names associated with the most famous of the maiden goddesses of Olympus such as Cynthia, Diana, Phoebe, or Belphoebe, Apollo's twin, virgin sister etc. Just as Apollo is the sun, Cynthia is the moon, goddess of soft light, and protectress of innocence and youth. Moreover, the moon is a tricky symbol in that, on the one hand it symbolizes soft and gentle beauty with which the heart of a lover sways, and on the other it symbolizes characteristic infidelity of the beloved, as in view of its constantly changing appearance it reflects typical inconsistency of behavior bordering on frivolity, capriciousness and deception. Employment of this symbol by Raleigh therefore readily suggests the innate sense of loss in an object of apparent charm. Similarly, as Phoebus was the sun, Phoebe was the moon, to which Spenser and Raleigh attached the prefix ―bel‖ or beautiful; in their poems, 92 Elizabeth became Cynthia, or Belphoebe. These were flattering images, especially for an ageing woman. The moon, therefore, supreme in its own temporal sphere, is soft and feminine as well as flighty, an appropriate symbol for the image of royalty that Raleigh wants to develop in his ―favorite‖ courtier appeals to the Queen. As well as references to the Queen as moon, after his disgrace Raleigh gives us her brighter companion––the sun. Although we cannot help but think of royalty in connection with the sun, who is analogous to Queen Elizabeth, when Raleigh falls out of favor, the sun metaphor takes on sinister qualities to serve and compliment his ―fallen courtier‖ status. He shows how he needs the sun to shine on him, but its blaze can kill him. The Platonic and pastoral counter theme to mutability illustrates the second of the themes that reveal to what degree Raleigh's poetry was influenced by past conventions and courtly courtesy. He asserts that his love is of that pure essence that time cannot touch. These allusions seem courtesies to an aging Queen. As the aging but extremely vain Elizabeth was acutely conscious of the passage of time, we can only imagine how phrases such as ―Time weares hir not‖ (13) from ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light‖ could have affected her. Advanced in years when this poem was probably written, she prohibited any public discussion of her ―grand climacteric,‖ or sixty-third birthdays in 1596 (Wilson 46). Yet, there is also an elaborately implicit appeal in the poem, proposed through allusion. In ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light,‖ the voice remains properly restrained throughout. For one thing, here the persona speaks not of his own emotions directly but of Elizabeth's royal virtues. Furthermore, 93 the image of the Queen is idealized as an object of universal adoration; this idealized concept of the monarch finds its most direct poetic expression in the celebration of the glories of the Queen. Raleigh's concept of world order does not significantly deviate from the conventional views of his age. He envisions a basically rational theocentric universe, ruled over by divine wisdom and justice. Hence, the speaker's manifest admiration for her is representative, not merely of personal significance. The polite verse aims to express graceful compliments to the lady with only a show of emotion sufficient to render them effective. The dramatic framework here is that of the speaker/lover addressing the Queen; this necessarily imposes some restrictions of courtesy and convention. Since Raleigh adopts the attitude of a suppliant, emphasizing the difference in their respective stations, he employs a formal tone consistent with an appeal based on reason, rather than the more intimate, and passionate lines we will encounter in the ―fallen‖ courtier verse. Later, after Raleigh‘s disgrace, a raging storm of emotion is triggered by his loss; in that storm he feels ill-equipped to navigate the turbulent waters of his own grief: ―What stormes so great but Cinthias beams appeased?‖ (Scinthia 118). As he demonstrates in ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light,‖ his service at court is completely dependant on the Queen‘s approval; hence the hyperbolic praise. So, it is possible to see this composition as part of a stylized, sophisticated discourse that provided the court with a more pleasant atmosphere for all involved. The leading idea of the poem is to compliment Queen Elizabeth by comparing her to Diana, the chaste huntress and goddess of the moon. Representing at once a celestial and a human figure, the image of Diana is particularly well equipped to provide poetic commentary on both the public 94 and private personalities of the Queen. Raleigh's persona uses these two aspects of the central figure to not only reflect upon the personal accomplishments of the present ruler, but to reflect upon the magic of kinship: Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light, Praisd be the dewes, wherewith she moists the ground; Praisd be hir beames, the glorie of the night, Praisd be hir powre, by which all powres abound. (1-4) Images of purity––fair light and ‗dewes‘—are here followed by images of power, in the form of moon-beams and celestial virtue (that ―powre, by which all powres abound‖). The imaginative progress is from the earthly to the heavenly and the structure of the poem itself mirrors this progress. The first three evocative stanzas of praise issue in an assertion of Diana‘s influence, and power. According to the speaker, as monarch she is as responsible for the perpetuation of life and universal order as is the moon which moistens the ground with dews and regulates the ebb and tide of the waters. According to Michael Ferber: Virginity or chastity is frequently attributed to the moon, partly through its connection with Virgin goddesses and partly because its light is cold . . . . The moon‘s continually changing phases led to its association with mutability, metamorphosis, inconstancy, or fickleness. The ―sublunary‖ realm, everything beneath the sphere of the moon, is governed mainly by change, chance, or fortune . . . . (128) 95 The poem, ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light,‖ therefore, organizes itself around a single governing design—the comparison of Queen Elizabeth with the chaste moon-goddess, Diana. The first two stanzas describe the Queen as a symbol of supreme rule and discipline by whose agency ―. . . all powres abound‖ (4), and her knights ―in whome true honor liues‖ (6) attest to the vigilance with which she, like the chaste huntress, governs her court. In the third stanza she is placed among the spheres. The description of the Queen becomes increasingly more abstract as a number of metaphysical notions about the moon are introduced into the narrative. Like the moon, she paradoxically unites in herself permanence and change. These ideas of Time, Mortality, and change and the image of the moon‘s existence in a pure and timeless world of unalterable and perfect beauty become more complex when related to the Queen. The complexity arises from a conflict between the ideal perception of Elizabeth and the visible evidence of mutability and whimsical affections. In his praise, Raleigh has to account for the changeability of a seemingly permanent beauty. Within the poetic world of the yet unfallen courtier, the Queen is the source from whence lesser planets draw their light and beauty. Like the Platonic mistress, she possesses the magical power of purification through moral discipline which she inspires in her wooers. Not only does she, like the moon, accommodate in her being the ordinarily opposing qualities of permanence and change, but she is also the Platonic ideal of beauty reflected by the earthly forms of fairness. Even time, we are told, is subject to her will: in contrast to all other things subject to time, Elizabeth, like the ever evolving moon, regularly evolves toward the fullness of life. Also like the moon, which lights up the world below that looks up to it in utter admiration, her perfect virtues kindle in her subjects a 96 moral devotion to lofty ideals. This depiction of the moon as a desirable but unattainable symbol of supernatural power and perfection effectively relates to the magic and supremacy of the royal majesty. The Platonic overtones of the poem are given direct expression in the last few lines. These verses depict Elizabeth as the embodiment of the Platonic ideal of virtue, which, if properly appreciated, affords the purest intellectual gratification possible. The general design of the poem is to compliment the Queen by characterizing her as something like a human-deity. As we have seen, the double image of Diana is very well suited to this plan: once the work has established the poetic truth of its initial claim (equating Elizabeth to Diana), it has also accomplished its laudatory purpose. The entire narrative, therefore, converges upon poetically demonstrating the truth of this central metaphor which will be undermined in the ―fallen‖ courtier verse: ―A Queen shee was to mee, no more Belphebe‖ (Scinthia 327). The final couplet emphasizes the intellectual illumination and inspiration which a Platonic communication with the Queen provides: ―A knowledge pure it is hir worth to kno‖ (17) it states, and then adds, threateningly, ―With Circes let them dwell that thinke not so‖ (18). Although the invective with which the poem ends is esthetically discordant with the generally restrained narrative tone, ideologically it develops the argument one step further: it is a dismal reminder to all those who are either incapable or unwilling to instill in themselves a sense of fulfillment, in the knowledge and distant admiration of this paragon of virtue. As punishment, they will be suited only for the most carnal form of life in Circe's ranks. 97 Despite the fact that the Queen is the subject of the poem, the Circe image effectively foreshadows the severe period of disfavor to come. ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light,‖ by means of its objective narrative voice, provides a graceful and formally flawless compliment to Elizabeth. By what Raleigh‘s speaker calls its ―harmless‖ light, human imperfections are overlooked to give way to harmony and friendship. As goddess of the moon, the sole Queen of the heavens, Cynthia represented a neat deification of Queen Elizabeth, for the sun, the usual symbol of royalty, was too masculine a comparison for a favorite courtier to make. Furthermore, the moon controlled the tides, so that ‗Cinthia‘ became a suitable image set against 'Water.' In contrast with the sun's evocation of blazing cruelty in poems of the ―fallen‖ voice, the moon here evokes consolation, mercy, and love. As a favorite courtier, Raleigh does not deviate from these latter concepts in his descriptions of the Queen. However, while his commitment to the Queen is the source of fundamental gratification and satisfaction that he wishes to evoke at this point in his career, this commitment will prove a potential source of pain in the circumstances of his impending loss. After losing the Queen‘s love, Raleigh‘s persona will suffer physical, mental, and emotional distress: ―I hated life and cursed destiney‖ (Scinthia 165). As Colin Parkes reminds us, grief is ―the cost of commitment‖ (274). Thus, attachment is a source of enormous satisfaction as well as potential distress. The Queen might have exercised the suspension of disbelief necessary to accept such hyperbolic declarations relating to youth, beauty, and virtue. This is made clear by Willard M. Wallace thus: 98 The older Elizabeth grew, the more she adored the subject of love, an interest her favorites played up to in conversation and poetry . . . those who perceive something wanton or abnormal in her addiction to handsome young men forget her loneliness, her extraordinary vanity, and her dread of growing old . . . . Through all her favorites she renewed her youth, bathed in their flattery, and discovered fresh interests. (24) If Raleigh did not actually originate what Cousins calls ―political Petrarchism,‖ he certainly employed it to perform a self-serving function. Though each poem may have been written to further the needs of his career, the value of Raleigh‘s poetry lies in its capacity to serve those needs. Indeed, Raleigh exploits the fact that much of what was metaphorical in the imagined relationship between a lover and a lady in the sonnet tradition became, when applied to the relationship between a courtier and a Queen, literally true. The Petrarchan lover afforded his lady the power of life and death, rejection and acceptance, servitude and freedom. Elizabeth—as Raleigh painfully realized during his imprisonment in 1592—possessed these powers in a very real way. Her disdain could be awful while her anger could be fatal. ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light‖ provides a detailed example of the way in which Raleigh not only applied a well known tradition, but pre-formulated arguments that catered both to the Queen‘s and to his own material interests. Weir has aptly noted that: It was the poets and dramatists . . . who did most to promote the cult of Elizabeth. In his epic poem The Faerie Queen, Spenser 99 referred to her as Gloriana and Belphoebe. William Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, and Sir Walter Raleigh called her as Cynthia or Diana, Diana being the Virgin huntress, ‗chaste‘ and fair. Other poets eulogized the Queen as Virgo, Pandora, Oriana or England‘s Astrea . . . . Throughout her reign poems, songs, ballads, and madrigals sang her praises and called upon God to preserve her from her enemies, or commended her for her virtues and her chastity. No English sovereign before or since has so captured the imagination of his or her people or so roused their patriotic feelings. (223) Moreover, such hyperbolic statements were supported by neo-Platonic and political motivations. It would be inaccurate to assume that love poems to an aging Queen reflected pure political flattery on the part of the writers and a ridiculous vanity on the part of the Queen. Raleigh, among others, did use his poems for political purposes, and the Queen did enjoy flattery. Nevertheless, an accepted philosophic truth underlay the hyperbolic conventions. She is depicted as the empress of an ideal world where neither corruption nor even mutability has any place, ―a virgin princess, who embodies a native land to which she was bringing unique peace and prosperity‖ (Wilson 199). This is, in effect, a Platonic version of the ideal political state, which establishes in the human world the natural harmony of the spheres. So, Elizabeth is graced with the personal attributes necessary to protect England through imagery that defines her as a divine and beloved Queen: ―In heaven Queene she is among the spheares‖ (9). According to Paul Kristellar, the neoplatonic conception of the universe is: 100 As a great hierarchy in which each being occupies its place, and has its degree of perfection, beginning with God at the top, and descending through the orders of the angels and souls, the celestial and elementary spheres, the various species of animals, plants and minerals, down to shapeless prime matter. (42) Therefore, when Raleigh's persona employs a metaphor speaking of Elizabeth as immutable and divine, he is in keeping with a tradition; yet the metaphor used is almost dead since it takes on almost literal truth, as Platonism and politics fuse. Anne Somerset acknowledges how the Queen is ―no more woman, but an extraordinary being, endowed with gifts that bordered on the sublime‖ (159). Thus, as Queen she was beyond mortal. She was God's anointed, and His glory might be expected to shine more clearly through her than through ordinary ladies. Elizabeth herself seemed to have a presence that augmented her greatness. This greatness added a dimension that made her ―permanence‖ more inspiring. As a woman, Elizabeth Tudor was subject to change and decay, but as Queen of England she was immutable, and her beauty could not fade. Elizabeth as the Virgin Queen was a representation of divine beauty. She was Diana, Cynthia, and Belphoebe (as in The Faerie Queene). Stebbing explains it thus: Elizabeth was in the habit of requiring all her courtiers to kneel to her as woman as well as queen, to hail her at once Gloriana and Belphoebe. The fashion was among her instruments of government. By appealing to the devotion of her courtiers as lovers, she hoped to kindle their zeal in serving their Queen . . . 101 . In pursuance of her usual system, and in innocence of any vice but vanity, she was sure to invite the language of passion from the owner of genius and looks like Raleigh's. (26) Court life was an extravagant and elaborate game; the main rule in it was that every courtier should profess himself hopelessly and endlessly in love with Gloriana, that radiant center from which emanated warmth, light, beauty, and wealth. Elizabeth demanded that man as her subject submit to her, not just as Queen, but as a woman too: ―She wished to be courted passionately and physically‖ (Adamson 87). The Court conceit of unattainable and unapproachable love, eternally sought after and eternally unconsummated, perfectly suited Raleigh‘s position in regard to the Queen. Indeed, through his role as a courtier enjoying his Queen's favors, he had since the outset of their relationship adopted the position of a lover worshipping a chaste and beautiful mistress. This position was parallel with his role as vassal to his powerful Queen, the standard courtly love metaphor that describes the relationship between the lover and the lady. As her favorite, he was clearly allowed to do this to a higher degree than most. Raleigh's use of the courtly love convention, therefore, takes on ironic significance, because what distinguishes his poems from many other sonnets in the Petrarchan manner is the fact that the love object is the Queen. ―Sought by the world, and hath the world disdain'd‖, ―Sweete ar the thovghtes, wher Hope persuadeth Happe,‖ and ―The Excvse‖ owe much of their interest to the unusual relationship they represent. In The King’s Two Bodies: A Study in Mediaeval Political Theology, Ernst Kantorowicz cites Edmund Plowden, a sixteenth-century Elizabethan lawyer and a main Elizabethan source for the metaphor of the king‘s two bodies. Plowden 102 writes: For the King has in him two bodies, viz., a body natural, and a body politic. His body natural (if it be considered in itself) is a body mortal, subject to all infirmities that come by nature or accident, to the imbecility of infancy or old age, and to the like defects that happen to the bodies of other people. But his body politic is a body that cannot be seen or handled, consisting of policy and government, and constituted for the direction of the people, and the management of the public weal, and this body is utterly void of infancy, and old age, and other natural defects and imbecilities, which the body natural is subject to, and for this cause, what the king does in his body politic cannot be invalidated or frustrated by any disability in his natural body. (7) According to Kantorowicz, Plowden‘s words are a response to a legal controversy; he asserts that a king‘s body natural is indivisible from his body politic, and the body politic never dies. When a king dies, the body politic migrates to the body natural of the succeeding king. A monarch is always referred to as king even if a woman ruled (8). Sometimes Raleigh‘s vision of perfection, of the world of absolute order and absolute truth and values is expressed directly as in ―Praisd be Dianas faire and harmles light.‖ In other pieces it appears in the form of an implicit and unquestioning trust in life's essential fairness. For instance, ―Sweete ar the thovghtes,‖ recounting the mysterious ways in which divine 103 justice works out its purpose, is infused with a belief in the natural predominance of good in the universe; its moral order is preserved and perpetuated by the monarch's equanimity. The verse maintains a steady tempo as each line beats out an aphoristic observation1 about the moral and emotional rewards of ―valure.‖ Its swift pace and unadorned diction are well-fitted to the expression of its simple theme, but the placid tone of these verses lacks the sharp edge or caustic wit which renders the aphorisms of ―The Lie‖ (discussed later) so much more effective. In praising the idealized world of Elizabeth's court, ―Sweete ar the thovghtes‖ appears to have been written at an earlier stage in Raleigh's political career when enthusiasm was as yet unbridled by serious disappointment and tragic loss. The poem conveys a succession of expressive observations about various forms of earthly bliss and their relations to personal merit. In the poem's sober and ordered universe, acts have predictable and just consequences. Mental and emotional satisfaction and worldly success, we are told in the first stanza, are all attainable goals, but only for the worthy: ―Great ar the Joyes, wher Harte obtaynes requeste,/ Dainty the lyfe, nurst still in Fortunes lappe/ Much is the ease, wher troubled mindes finde reste‖ (2-4). As readers we can only speculate on whether or not these observations imply that the persona‘s desires are unobtainable. In reality, Raleigh was troubled by many difficulties whose source was usually Elizabeth. Of course the persona, being the Queen‘s darling, cannot in any way condemn her, so in the second stanza he elaborates on the conditions under which these goals can be achieved: ―Thus pleasure comes; but after hard 104 assay,‖ (8). In the final couplet the speaker reasserts his faith, this time in the form of a personal affirmation of the ultimate fairness of life: ―Then must I needes advaunce my self by Skyll,/ And lyve to serve, in hope of your goodwyll‖ (11-12). The speaker articulates a personal resolution to advance himself through loyal service to the Queen. In this world, under the watchful supervision of the Queen, right prospers and hard work is justly rewarded. At least this is what the speaker ―hope[s]‖ for in the concluding line. The poem‘s proverbial formulations possess little philosophical depth; their effectiveness depends mainly on the effortless communication of recognizable truths. Thus poetic utterances (which through the ―fallen voice‖ occasion a great deal of concern) about the perfections of the court, the idealized concept of the Monarch in whom neither corruption nor mutability have any place, are dismissed with conventional yet superficial observations: the general frailty of this world is offset by the ideal of moral constancy represented by the Queen. The conventional conception of Elizabeth as Diana is that of a Virgin Queen, a nationalistic goddess to whom all men are bound in loyalty. By including this praise of Elizabeth as a woman and as a Queen, Raleigh evokes the wealth of adoration with which the Queen would have been familiar. Familiarity, of course, is an essential part of this procedure. The complexities and contradictions of life are for a while over-ruled in generalized statements which create an illusory world of simple certainties. This poem, therefore, is highly appropriate for verse that is addressed to a formal audience. As a favorite courtier, the act of writing in the polite tones of the 105 courtly tradition was sometimes an attempt to stave off or amend the downward turn of fortune‘s wheel; it was an act that pleased the Queen, and the Queen was fortune‘s representative for Raleigh. In this sense, Raleigh is relying on his own dictum that ―valure doth advance‖ (5) to combat fortune. However, in this poem, (like others written in the first voice) which is addressed to his royal mistress, Raleigh‘s subjective fears about fortune and decay surface too frequently: ―troubled mindes‖ (4), ―Dread‖ (6), ―hard assay‖ (8), and ―lyve to serve‖ (12) are concepts that seem to weigh heavily on the persona‘s mind. Although the poem may have been composed to compliment the Queen, there is a poignancy in the penultimate line where the persona indicates that he realizes the degree to which he depends for his identity on his sustained relationship with the Queen: ―Then must I needes advaunce my self by Skyll‖ (11). As we will see, he will suffer the effects of changing fortune and loss. ****** Had Raleigh envisaged his Cinthia sliding from the heavens to tenderly touch a sleeping shepherd, as Theocritus pictured his Cynthia's wooing of Endymion, it would have been entirely in keeping with mythological tradition.2 However, Raleigh's images are not mainly of silvery light and soft caresses. In Ocean to Scinthia (his most significant work) and ―Entreatinge of Sorrow,‖ his images are not related to the moon but to the sun, the cosmic body most frequently used by poets and politicians alike as a symbol of greatness. In this respect, Ferber points out that: 106 The sun is so overwhelming a phenomenon and so fundamental to earthly life that its meanings in mythology and literature are too numerous to count. The sun is not only the most striking thing to be seen but the very condition of sight; light and seeing, some have argued, lie at the root of all symbolism . . . . (210) This application of this cosmic symbol in both Scinthia and the fragment ―Entreatinge of Sorrow‖ is extremely significant—not only because it acknowledges the correspondence of the Queen to ―an incorruptible heavenly body‖ (Ferber 202), but also because it becomes the central metaphor running throughout the ―Fallen‖ poems. To it are tied the themes and images of generation, fertility and sterility, mutability and immutability, the cycle of days and seasons, and lightness and darkness—all of which would have less significance, ―if shee weare not the soon‖ (―Entreatinge of Sorrow‖ 10). Most of the poems consist of lament for a time when the speaker enjoyed the bounty of his sovereign‘s love. The gentle Belphoebe of former times (identified with the moon) has been supplanted by the blazing sun because the speaker's one thoughtless indiscretion earned him perpetual grief. Therefore, when Raleigh employs this familiar image, he wants to illustrate the extent of Elizabeth's callousness towards his persona. Therefore, in stark contrast to the courtly love poetry of the ―first voice‖ in which the speaker utilizes pre-formulated arguments to address a formal audience with self-conscious, polite restraint, in the ―second voice‖ we listen to Raleigh‘s persona as he utters his personal thoughts aloud. In this group of compositions, we have Raleigh's most engaging pieces, 107 distinguished by their personal tone and emotional intensity. The speaker's plight in the ―fallen‖ group projects a sense of urgency and personal involvement absent from the first category. Raleigh is most effective when he writes in a private tone at the peak of emotional excitement. The essentially private or confessional nature of these poems is what formally distinguishes them from the first group. Raleigh is at his finest in this category, and a large number of his most successful poems fall into this group. Through an array of metaphors and images, the ―fallen‖ bard says things the ―favorite courtier‖ might never have dared utter. Amidst the turmoil of some compelling personal problem, the speaker articulates his thoughts in a bid to impose some kind of order on the chaotic impressions of his experience. Finally, in sharp contrast to the ―favorite courtier‖ pieces, the speaker's general attitude in this group of writings is determined by an undertone of disillusionment and cynicism. Consequently, these poems are devoid of the contrived logic of dialectic argumentation frequently employed in poems of the ―first voice.‖ No easy solutions are forthcoming for the severe personal conflicts that are articulated in these pieces. A new, penetrating insight into life's essential contradictions and complexities has replaced the simple formulaic reasoning of poems such as ―The Steele Glasse‖ and ―Sweet ar the Thovghtes.‖ Furthermore, the motivating purpose behind these compositions differs radically from the rationalistic intent of the other. These poems indicate that the prospect of forgiveness and restoration was less than likely for the former darling. Raleigh paid more than a financial price for his greatness at court, for he expended his very emotions; he had distinguished himself as a courtier, but at the expense of genuine feelings and love which he would later experience with Bess (his wife). 108 Raleigh had sacrificed much in the service of the Queen; as his persona bitterly maintains, ―twelue yeares intire I wasted in this warr/ Twelue yeares of my most happy younger dayes‖ (Scinthia 120-21). Thus, through the ―second voice‖ he vented his resentment in verse. We feel the speaker's pronounced sense of anguish and apprehension of degeneration, and his purpose is to illustrate how far he has been forced to surrender and submit himself to this wretched situation. It is his preoccupation with the negative aspects of his life that constitutes a distinguishing characteristic of poems springing from loss. In these compositions, Raleigh‘s speaker portrays his personal catastrophe, shifting from anguish to a realization of the greater enterprise in which he had exerted very little influence. He witnesses a force which is at once in time and above it, (―A vestall fier that burnes, but never wasteth‖ Scintha 189) a force which brings things to life, leaves them to wither away, and is everlasting (―Which sees the birth, and burial, of all elce,/ And holds that poure, with which shee first begvnn/ Levinge each withered boddy to be torne‖ ―Entreating of Sorrow‖ 11-13). He cannot participate in this timelessness, for he views it from the restricted viewpoint of the ―fallen‖ individual. These compositions are essentially private or confessional in nature. Raleigh is at his best in this medium because he transforms his individual plight into the universal struggle of man's fight against loss and mortality. His disgust with life, stemming from a sense of disillusionment with worldly experience, takes on a more cosmic dimension as the speaker lashes out against such abstract entities as Time, Mutability and universal injustice, representing the dark sides of life. Hence, such poems almost 109 always end on a note of pessimism through an apparent denial of life's possibilities. In keeping with his thematic preoccupation, the most pervasive imagery throughout Raleigh's poetry is that of time and mutability. A large number of his most successful compositions, including his longest work Ocean to Scinthia, fall into this group. His poems can often be identified in terms of their revealing titles (or first lines) which herald the theme of discontent amidst a devastating loss of some kind: ―As you came from the holy land,‖ ―A Secret Murder,‖ ―Sovght by the world,‖ ―My first borne love vnhappily conceived,‖ ―A Farewell to false Love,‖ ―A Poesie to prove affection is not love,‖ ―Like to a Hermite poore,‖ ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ and ―On the Life of Man‖ to cite a few. In this group of compositions, it is the tone of Raleigh‘s poems, rather than their subjects that most clearly carries his voice. Generally, in keeping with his themes and especially his preoccupation with devouring time and loss, the tone is pessimistic. Specifically, this pessimism surfaces sometimes as unhappiness, sometimes as scornful anger, but more often, and included in the examples just mentioned, one finds irony, grim humor, and a biting wit. These are poems which reveal both the persona's true feelings and the gloom beneath the apparent glow of Elizabeth's court. As he had done so often when alone and unhappy, Raleigh turned in this phase of his life exclusively to poetry of a more poignant kind. No longer the Queen's favorite, he poured out his grief to her in his verse. A poem which seems to illustrate Raleigh‘s position in 1589 is ―As you came from the holy land,‖ (also known as the ―Walsingham‖ poem) considered by critics as one of Raleigh's best poems. An ―intensely personal and sincere‖ (Latham xxx) poem, it seems to have been written during Raleigh‘s fall from 110 favor. Written in a form similar to the ballad, it narrates in simple phrases a dialogue between the ―I‖ and a pilgrim on his way back from the holy land. The speaker's inquiry ―Mett you not with my tru love/by the way as you came‖ (3-4) leads to descriptions (first by the speaker, then by the pilgrim) of her beauty. We have independent verification of the changeless, matchless beauty of the speaker‘s love from the pilgrim: ―Such a one did I meet, good sir,/ Such an Angelyke face,/ Who lyke a queen, lyke a nymph, did appere‖ (13-15). There is the suggestion that there is something supernatural about this beauty whose lover ages. We poignantly learn that she ―who sometymes did me lead with her selfe‖ (19) indicates the speaker‘s awareness that his very identity depends upon his relationship with the lady who represents the Queen. However, she has now forsaken him: She hath lefte me here all alone, All allone as vnknowne, Who sometymes did me lead with her selfe And me loude as her owne. (17-20) What comes through is the pathos, a feeling of utter loneliness resulting from loss and, specifically, the loss of a cherished love. The repetition of "allone" reinforces the speaker‘s sadness; Raleigh and his persona become indistinguishable in these lines. Being ―all alone as vnknowne‖ means the poet/ speaker is without Court identity. Up to this point, the sixth stanza, the dialogue form has been merely a convenience, a conventional device of the ballad to move the poem along 111 in order to introduce some of the poem‘s strongest lines, namely his sudden abandonment by his mistress: I have loude her all my youth, Butt now ould as you see, Love lykes not the fallyng frute From the wythered tree. (25-28) The pathos inherent in the first two lines above emphasizing the old man's life-long loyalty to his lover is heightened by the central image of the withered tree whose fruit is no longer suitable to love. The references to change brought about through time, therefore, deal with the beloved‘s feelings toward the persona. Moreover, his references to age emphasize his constancy through time; the lady, on the other hand, is not so faithful. What the persona has done in these lines is to conjure up a beauty that cannot be altered by time or age. The beloved‘s feelings towards the speaker may be subject to mutability, but the effect of her love upon him is not. We hear the voice of disenchantment in a persona battered by fortune and withered with age yet still clinging to his love. We are reminded that his love is ―inclosde‖ in his ―minde‖ (Scintha 426) ―And is therof not only the best parte/ But into it the essence is disposed‖ (Scinthia 427-28). With his love being internalized explains why he still feels the stimulus to love the Queen even though she has abandoned him and her love for him has been obliterated by age. It is because her love is ―inclosde‖ in his mind that he has experienced and still experiences woe and this empty feeling of loss. This idea of fruit falling and rotting is similarly expressed in 112 Spenser‘s The Shepheardes Calender: My boughes with bloosmes that crowned were at first, And promised of timely fruite such store, Are left both bare and barrein now at erst: The flattering fruite is fallen to grownd before, And rotted ere they were halfe mellow ripe: My harvest, wast, my hope away dyd wipe. (―December‖ 103- 08) In both poems the tone of despair and loneliness indicates beyond anything else a heightened sense of mortality. For Raleigh, although the image suggests that growing old is natural and inevitable, both the inconstancy of love and time's eventual victory over man give the speaker an enduring sense of abandonment and dismay. The persona does not welcome the passage of time. Rather, he reflects upon the sad truth that love decays with time and leaves the lover sorrowful and ―wythered‖; the latter adjective in particular enforcing the idea of age and decay. There is no positive description of the ageing process, but rather its comparison to withered trees and death. Behind his declarations of timelessness addressed to the Queen, we feel a sense of urgency for himself—the sense of urgency expressed by Herrick, Donne, Marvel, Spenser, and Shakespeare in their realization that old time still is flying, that neither leaf nor bud nor flower will again flourish after first decay, that one must use his time and seize every opportunity while he can. At this juncture the poem loses its ballad-like qualities. The 113 dialogue—and with it the simple conversational tone—disappears. As if the upsurge of emotions can no longer sustain the formally simplistic ballad and its personae, the poem breaks into lyrical reflections on love. Tension has existed not between the two speakers, the abandoned lover and the pilgrim, but between the conventional form and content, with its basic anonymity, and the personal voice of suffering in the fifth and seventh stanzas. The reader has been prepared to move from the particular (of the hopeless search for the lost love) to the universal when the lover, addressing the fickle nature of love, says: ―Loue likes not the falling frute‖ (27) not she ―likes not the falling frute.‖ However, in the concluding stanzas, the dialogue form is realized and made to sustain the argument. After listening to the disillusionment that the lover voices on the transitory and impermanent nature of love, the pilgrim reacts to the lover‘s bitter sense of age and betrayal, by criticizing love as a ―careless chylld,‖ who can at will shut himself off from the physical and emotional demands of the world outside him: Know that love is a careless chylld And forgets promyse paste, He is blynd, he is deaff when he lyste And in faythe never faste. (28-31) Love's inconsistency makes all dealings with it hazardous and unpredictable. The disillusioned speaker feels the hurt that is expressed through the pilgrim‘s statements concerning the mutable nature of love: 114 His desyre is a dureless contente And a trustless joye He is wonn with a world of despayre And is lost with a toye. (33-36) Desire, here, is momentary; its short-lived life span comes after sacrificing happiness. I am reminded of the lines from Scinthia where the speaker relates the dreams he has been forced to abandon in order to please the Queen: ―which never honors bayte, or worlds fame/ Atchyved by attempts adventerus‘ (406-07). It is clear that the ―world of despayre‖ refers to hisdespair over being prevented from pursuing his lifelong dream of setting foot on the New Continent. Implicit in these lines is his desire to, indeed, ―[win]‖ the ―world.‖ However, this is not the case, and through patterns of rhythm, sound, and alliteration, the persona is able to project the strain and inconsistency of passion and the meaninglessness of childish love. Love‘s whimsicality is then more specifically related to the fickleness of women in general: Of women kynde suche indeed is the loue Or the word Loue abused Vnder which many chyldysh desires And conceytes are excusde. (37-40) If ―woman kynde‖ (37) is viewed more specifically to refer to the Queen, and ―chyldysh desyers‖ (39) is assumed to be not only analogous to ―women kynde‖ in the image but also allegorical of the Queen‘s favor and love, the lines become a clear and cogent statement of Raleigh‘s loss. Raleigh has 115 finally begun to establish the source of all his sorrow to a woman. The image of a woman pops up before his mind the moment he wishes to think of the Queen while he ponders his loss. This problem of the Queen to be seen as a monarch or a woman remains a persistent concern throughout the poem. Some of the vigor of the preceding impassioned lines stems from the distinct contrast with style of the earlier stanzas. The contrast of styles is apparent through the opposition of two kinds of love, symbolized by a blind and faithless child (who is also sometimes deaf, according to Raleigh) and by ―a durable fyre/ In the mynde ever burnynge.‖ The child here seems to represent the blind Cupid of Renaissance mythology, and the opposition is related to a major theme in the iconology of the period. To the modern reader, the blindness of Cupid alludes only to the irrationality of amorous choice, but to the mythographers and Renaissance artists it had sinister associations. According to Erwin Panofsky in Studies in Iconology: Humanistic Themes in the Art of the Renaissance, ―. . . blind Cupid started his career in rather terrifying company: he belonged to Night, Synagogue, Infidelity, Death and Fortune . . .‖ (112). The figure embodied a love that was morally blind, an illicit sensuality that was a victim of time and destroyed by death. By Raleigh‘s day, these connotations of evil had been forgotten because of the frequent use of the figure in different contexts, many of them trivial or neutral. Yet the undertones remained as a potential, to be evoked, as Panofsky observes, ―wherever a lower, purely sensual and profane form of love was deliberately contrasted with a higher, more spiritual and sacred one, whether marital, or ‗Platonic‘ ‖ (126). Just such a contrast is made in the ―Walsingham‖ poem, though it is tempered by the 116 simplicity of the ballad framework and by a certain minimal tact because Raleigh has to be careful lest he should offend the Queen. The contrast— between a faithless love that abandons the aging lover and seeks novelty and a true love that never changes—is a version of ―. . . a rivalry between ‗Amor Sacro‘ and ‗Amor Profano‘ ‖ (Panofsky 126). The latter form of love is circumscribed by the body and hence by time—―Love lykes not the fallyng frute/ From the wythered tree,‖ while the former is a fire which forever burns in the mind. That fire is related ultimately to ―the sacred fire of true divine love‖ (340) of which Bembo speaks so ecstatically in The Book of the Courtier as the fulfillment of all the strivings of man‘s soul. This is the very heart of the Neoplatonic system of Ficino and Pico, the amor divinus which ―possesses itself of the highest faculty in man, i.e. the Mind of intellect, and impels it to contemplate the intelligible splendour of divine beauty‖ (Panofsky 142). In Raleigh‘s poetry, however, the essential content of the system—the religious vision—has disappeared. Therefore, the one major constant in a world that strips man of so much may be simply a man's choice to be constant—in love and honor. Such a view is made clear in the final stanza of ―As you came from the holy land.‖ Here, the despairing speaker is discontented with superficial views on love. Turning inward, he recognizes a love which is consistent and permanent. The enduring nature of his devotion is strong enough to continue even after the reciprocation of it has ceased. What is important is that the persona carries this love with him constantly: Butt true Loue is a durbable fyre In the mynde euer burnynge; 117 neuer sycke neuer ould neuer dead from itt selfe neuer turnynge: (41-44) The definition of true love as a constant and ageless emotional force implicitly provides significant evaluative commentary on the narrator‘s experience. It sets up an objective frame of reference within which the woman‘s faithlessness can be identified as an instance of false love while the speaker‘s constancy, unflinching even in the face of her infidelity, proves to be the ―durable fyre‖ of everlasting love. And infidelity in response to the speaker‘s ardent and stanch love further multiplies his despondency. Raleigh‘s persona is lamenting the fact that his love for her is no longer being reciprocated. Although his love for her continues, the factor that continues to incite his love is now missing. The evidence Raleigh felt love or something he called love for the Queen is there in his writings. His disillusioned speaker expresses the sadness that comes through in the voice of the forsaken lover. Another poem that grew out of Raleigh‘s loss of the Queen‘s favor in 1589 is ―A Secret Murder‖: ―A secret murder hath been done of late,/ vnkindness founde to be the bloudie knife,/ And shee that did the deed a dame of state‖ (1-3). She had displayed no overt signs of displeasure, so the murder he complains of was indeed ―secret‖ and her weapon is nothing sharper than a cutback of kindness. The theme of personal anguish and suffering is woven into the psyche of the dependent courtier whose life appears to have ended with the Queen‘s displeasure: ―Mistrust (quoth she) hath brought him to his end,‖ (6). The Queen has obviously been hardened against him. References to people who are obviously antagonistic to the 118 persona are encountered here: ―Which makes the man so much himself mistake,/ To lay the guilt vnto his guiltles frend‖ (7-8). They are depicted as openly hostile. However, that his love for her is ―true‖ (13) is proof against his enemies. Yet, the fact that he refers to them at all suggests that he was thinking of someone, possibly Essex. Ample evidence exists of a growing feud between Raleigh and Essex. Of course, the reference could be a general one to Raleigh‘s enemies, the number of which was not small. In the final two lines, referring to the superstition that a corpse bleeds when its murderer is brought before it,3 Raleigh's persona tries to explain the effect that Elizabeth is having on him: ―You kill vnkinde; I die, and yet am true;/ For at your sight, my wound doth bleede anew‖ (13-14). The tone of the poem certainly suggests that the speaker is undergoing a period of sorrow, and what more than a loss of favor and ensuing period of disgrace could cause such feelings. However, simply to be in the presence of Elizabeth is a reminder of times that never again could be, and the speaker is wounded by such unbending cold-heartedness as in ―Sovght by the world‖: Steer then thy course vnto the port of death, Sith thy hard hap no betrer hap may finde, Where when thou shalt vnlade thy latest breath, Enuie hir selfe shall swim to saue thy minde. (7-10) The expression of steering a ―course unto the port of death‖ clearly indicates the degree to which life at court was becoming unbearable for the speaker. Moreover, the personification of what is most evil and treacherous, namely 119 envy, diving into the ocean to rescue the speaker points to the depth of his instability and distress. His envisioned disintegration is prompted by a despair that paradoxically feeds itself by conjuring up its own annihilation: ―. . . when first thou didst aspire,/ Death was the end of euery desire‖ (1718). A pervasive sense of loss, then, is a characteristic of Raleigh's poetry in general and of his love poetry in particular. What makes Raleigh's love poetry more deep is his special relationship to the Queen. The conventions of courtly love therefore take on unconventional significance in Raleigh's poetry. In ―My first borne love vnhappily conceived,‖ the speaker who exalted his Queen when he was her favorite, now cries out against her coldness and insensitivity: ―And you careless of me, that without feeling,/ With drie eies, behold my Tragedie smiling‖ (17-18). He bemoans the misery of love and age through a metaphor of life; he traces his love‘s ―[unhappy conception]‖ (1) to its birth ―Brought foorth in paine. . .‖ (2) to its premature death: ―Die in your Infancie, of life bereaued,/ By your cruell nurse‖ (3-4). The speaker laments his isolation and loneliness, and attempts to understand how the object of his love and admiration could be so callous and indifferent to his once powerful ―. . . words, [his] harts faithful expounders‖ (9) which he describes as once being ―Iewell[s]‖ (10). This composition is striking when compared to the civil formality of the ―favorite courtier‖ pieces. The voice of the speaker is again highly personal in ―A Poesie to prove affection is not love.‖ The speaker's evident emotional involvement in trying to prove that affection differs from true love imbues the poem with its 120 momentum. The speaker considers, though in a much more philosophical manner than ―Farewell to false Love,‖ (for fuller discussion see p. 125) the essential differences between love and infatuation (both poems rely mainly upon their metaphoric structures for the expression of their respective themes). Perhaps more significant is the persona's particularly emotive use of images. The Platonic distinction between appetite and reason provides the poem with its basic frame of reference. According to the speaker, Appetite, devoid of reason's responsible guidance, seeks after merely sensual pleasures which, once attained, instantly expire. Having designated desire and reason as opposing forces with basically contradictory dictates and goals (the one following the principle of easy pleasures while the other seeks more lasting relationships), the speaker goes on to elaborate on the futility of the former. To that end, he deploys a series of metaphors depicting various forms of premature death that present in readily comprehensible, objective terms the futility of an infatuated relationship. The images in the poem, however, are embedded in logic-oriented ideas that seek to ―prove‖ both the immediate and the ultimate sterility of desire; a conclusion enhancing the sense of loss and despondency. Along this line, ―A Poesie to prove affection is not love‖ is structured by a chain of images variously stressing the impermanence and destruction of ―affection‖: ―Conceipt begotten by the eyes,/ Is quickly borne, and quickly dies‖ (1-2). An opposition between true love and infatuation is established early in the poem by a symbolic juxtaposition of the eye against the heart (and reason). The eye is presented as the agent of short-lived physical attraction, because true love is blind. It is the heart and reason that jointly govern the course of true love. The conception of desire, moreover, 121 signifies the death of reason. Thus, the first stanza emphatically establishes the irreconcilable nature of the two forms of emotional attachment. The remaining verses more specifically expound the futility and transience of ―affection‖ in images which depict various forms of premature death and pointless, self-consuming activities. First, in two consecutive images of the stunted seed ―. . . whose rooting failes‖ (9) and of the fetus which ―. . . within the Mothers wombe/ Hath his beginning, and his tombe‖ (11-12), the speaker memorably expresses the pointless waste of human and emotional energy especially when expended in pursuit of pleasures of transitory nature. The comparison also helps emphasize the ironic fact that while all personal involvements possess, like the seed and the unborn child, the potential for life and development, they are unnecessarily stunted by the limited terms of an infatuous relationship and never reach fruition. The complex implications of these two central images are brought to the fore in the ensuing lines which analyze the nature of desire that destroys in more specific terms. The persona develops the idea that love based on fancy or desire is self-destructive ―Affection followes Fortunes wheeles;/ And soon is shaken from her heeles‖ (13-14). The development of that idea depends upon the technique of intensification through alliteration and personification. We feel this destruction through the repeated pounding sound that the initial ―f‖ sounds make in line 13. The speaker probes further into a relationship based solely on desire. With its emotional sterility, instability, and ephemeral nature, the idea of Affection‘s submission to Fortune in the lyric is carried forward in the fourth stanza with the personification of Desire: ―Desire himselfe runnes out of breath,/ And getting, doth but gaine his death‖ (19-20). The next figure 122 depicting Affection in pursuit of the capricious goddess of Fortune projects the impermanence of such an attachment and indicates that variety alone is the principle interest of fancy. Capricious, blind and self-consuming, carnality follows a course contrary to all that reason commends (stanzas 3 and 4). Finally, in stanza 5, three visual images, employed as similes, in quick succession clinch the thematic argument of the poem: As shippes in ports desir'd are drownd, As fruit once ripe, then falles to ground, As flies that seeke for flames, are brought To cinders by the flames they sought: So fond Desire when it attaines, The life expires, the woe remainns. (25-30) Up to this point, desire has been viewed primarily as a morally destructive phenomenon. Lines 25-30 sharpen the sense in which ―affection‖ is like the earlier images of the seed that cannot germinate into life, and the infant that dies before attaining its prime. Now, the long awaited and incompletely realized moment of fulfillment depicted by each symbol emphasizes the anticlimactic brevity of sensual pleasures as the emerging implications of these images relate the ironic impotency of ―appetite‖ to achieve its own self-gratification. The use of sea-faring similes to represent the entire process of life is frequent with Raleigh4; here, the return of a ship to port constitutes a general symbol representing the attainment of any goal. However, here the persona suggests that the ships that are needed or ‗desired‘ to reach their ports are drowned even before they reach their destinations, thus implying thwarted hopes and sabotaged dreams. The 123 persona deploys the simile to convey the notion that the rising hopes for personal fulfillment are frustrated by forces beyond one‘s control at the last moment. The second image stresses the inevitability of passion's sudden termination once its carnality is satisfied. After running its course, passion is abruptly brought to an end by a principle as powerful as the law of gravity: ―As fruit once ripe then falles to ground‖ (26). Finally, the third image defines ―conceipt‖ as a suicidal indulgence in sensuality. Like flies that ―. . . are brought/ To cinders by the flames they sought‖ (27-28), unbridled desire offers itself a brief moment of carnal pleasure. Thus, in three logically unrelated images, the suggestions of emotional and moral purposelessness, initially proposed through the seed and infant metaphors, are recapitulated to provide the poem with a relevant, evaluative definition of infatuation and sensuality. The eventual terminating of an object of pleasure into an object of disgust serves to heighten the sense of failure; failure to achieve sustainable pleasure through carnality or desire, culminating into excruciating sense of loss. The speaker concludes his poetic definition of false love by directly addressing those who would still argue that ―affection‖ (the term he uses to mean infatuation/desire) is only another form of love. In order to refute his opponents' argument, Raleigh's persona evaluates its implication, in terms of the Platonic distinction between reason and appetite. Love, he notes, is a passion of the mind while desire (‗affection‘) is a function of appetite, which man shares with the beasts. Therefore, to equate desire with love, he explains, is to wish to transform man's essential kinship with beasts into an outright identification: ―As if wilde beasts and men did seeke,/ To like, to loue, to chuse alike‖ (35-36). Inner introspection is what separates humans 124 from beasts––it is our human ability to learn from and find meaning in life events, to grow and evolve through pain and struggle. We find an eminent example of learning through pain not only in Shakespeare‘s Lear (King Lear) but also in Shelley‘s Prometheus (Prometheus Unbound). Raleigh‘s speaker, however, never discusses or even states the nature of ―true‖ love in direct terms. The poem concludes that man should not love like wild beasts, and that gives us the alternative only by implication. Presumably man should love with his reason and with constancy; that is, raising it beyond the narrow self and immediate gratification of desire and adorning it with the altruistic spirit of giving and seeking nothing in return. The body of the poem, however, deals not with this alternative, but with the transience of an emotion based on appearances. Twenty-four lines of this thirty-six line poem are concerned with the decay of beauty, the changeability of fortune, and the evanescence of desire. This is certainly proper to the tradition—earthly love is imperfect because it is mutable. However, the speaker's emphasis is on mutability, not on love, earthly or otherwise because this is the factor chiefly responsible for generating the sense of loss which eventually overwhelms all other feelings and emotions. Raleigh himself had been guilty of the very fault that he denounced in his final couplet: he had confused physical attraction with true love. However, his courtship of Bess Throckmorton not only changed his life but made his poetry more meaningful and passionate. No longer was he satisfied with lines such as ―I lou‘d my selfe, bicause my selfe lou‘d you‖ (―The Excvse‖ 18) and ―Praisd be the dewes, wherewith she moists the ground‖ (―Praisd be dianas faire and harmless light 2). We know that it is 125 during this 1589 disgrace that Raleigh asked for permission to go to Ireland. Adamson and Folland give their insight: . . . he fled to Ireland, ostensibly to manage his colony there. His enemies, naturally, said that the Earl had chased him out of England. But Ralegh had another reason for leaving the Court and going to Ireland in 1589. He intended to write for Elizabeth England‘s first great epic poem, a tribute to which she could not fail to respond . . . . Elizabeth would be Cynthia; he would be the Shepherd of the Ocean. He would call it The Ocean to Cynthia. He would build for Elizabeth a monument in rhyme of the kind Horace had talked about, stronger than bronze, higher than a pyramid. (180-81) The seriousness of the emotions his marriage aroused, along with his disgrace, stimulated more intense feelings. These anguished feelings came to haunt him more and more, paradoxically at the very moment when his love for Bess was providing him with ever more vigor and youth, because as Anna Beer notes: ―Raleigh risked a substantial loss of income and prestige for indulging his natural desires‖ (xv). He must have felt unsettled and he expresses this fearful, personal side through his poetic personality which mingles a reflective, anguished, introspective, and disillusioned attitude: ―There is something fuller, something weightier, in what Raleigh writes. His poems have not the lightness of the lyric of the day but carry their burden of reflection‖ (Latham xxvi). Another poem that generates the speaker‘s sense of loss is ―A 126 Farewell to false Love.‖ The deceived persona lashes out at love for being ―a mortal foe and enimie to rest‖ (2). Perhaps this disenchantment proceeds out of disillusionment with life at the Court and with the failure of idealistic conceptions attributed to the Queen whose betrayal of the speaker‘s constancy and hope brings intense anguish. The speaker defines ideal love by negatives through a quick succession of images depicting the destructive hypocrisy in false love. The disjointed images of the poem not only provide an allusive definition of ―false love,‖ but they also show in dramatic terms the emotional turmoil within a speaker devastated by his recent betrayal in love. Here, a personal experience rather than a philosophical notion as in ―A Poesie to prove affection is not love‖ provides the poem's conceptual frame of reference. In a tone of anger, the speaker attempts to array the chaotic impressions of his recent, disturbing experience as he breathlessly piles image upon image, defining and redefining the general nature of false love from various complementary angles. His logically unrelated descriptive statements are unified by personal experience as they register a broadly relevant definition of ―false love.‖ In the course of the poem, the speaker moves swiftly from one simile to another, trying to formulate to his own satisfaction the full extent of the destructive force of false love. The logically disjointed images of the narrative element dramatize the speaker's frenzied state of mind as the implications of these images build upon one another to form, by the conclusion of the poem, a personal interpretation of the nature of false love, all this converging though on his enhanced sense of loss. The poem begins by comparing ―false love‖ to an oracle of lies, thereby laconically characterizing both the unquestioning, almost religious 127 faith that one places in the love partner as an oracle, and the moral perversity of deliberate deceit by the object of such trust. This comparison brings into the poem a series of images that stress the essential madness and deceit of love: ―A bastard vile, a beast with rage possest:/ A way of error, a temple ful of treason,/ In all effects, contrarie vnto reason‖ (4-6). These images relate the various aspects of the moral and emotional confusion caused by the experiences of betrayal in love. Like ―a poysoned serpent couered all with flowers‖ (7), false love, the speaker feels, lures its victims to sure and painful death. The imagery used readily reminds us of the advice of Lady Macbeth to her husband about how to succeed in duplicity employing almost similar imagery when she says ―Look like the innocent flower/ but be the serpent underneath‖ (1.5.64-65). Moreover, when love is tarnished by duplicity, sorrows abound and perpetuate themselves. Interestingly enough, the consequence is the same in Macbeth as well where faith (if not love) tarnished leads the betrayers into the quagmire of loss and sorrows to the extent of finishing them off eventually against all their original expectations and calculations. As the poem progresses, the implications of suffering, suspicion, and confusion, all causally related to false love, suggest the emotional state of the mind of the speaker as it moves towards despair. More specifically, they also reflect the speaker's agitated state of mind, and his urgent need to give proper expression to all aspects of his tormenting experience. In the physical phenomenon of the rain cycle, the persona discovers a symbol which poignantly relates the endlessness of deceit's supply of grief: ―A sea of sorrows from whence are drawen such showers/ As moysture lend to everye griefe that growes‖ (9-10). Not content with the definitions of fickle 128 love that he has formulated so far, the speaker runs through another series of comparisons variously stressing the emotional confusion, waste, futility, and suffering involved in such an experience. His reflections on the subject finally culminate in a memorable insight into the psychological consequence of betrayal. He identifies the most devastating effect of betrayal as the complete paralysis of reason and the resultant mental and emotional anguish that ultimately sets off: ―A deep mistrust of that which certaine seemes,/ A hope of that which reason doubtful deemes‖ (23-24). The powerful feelings of anguish intensify through the persona‘s tragic sentiments being given a lyrical expression. These sentiments are at once both jarring and depressing because the ―mistrust‖ or suspicion being ―deepe‖ may be understood to describe the situation from which Raleigh, in disfavor, was now regarded by the Queen. Moreover, ―hope‖ here could allude to his desire for favor which at the time Raleigh did not enjoy though others, like Essex, did. These lines form the most significant thematic statement of the poem as they define the complex psychological effects generated by ―false love‖ leading to irretrievable losses. The discovery of a generally valid psychological pattern in his shattering experience seems to have a cathartic effect on him. The speaker's illuminating insight into the generally meaningful core of his experience then prepares him for the final renunciation of his false love. For the first time in the poem the articulated thoughts of the speaker assume continuity as he declares himself free of false love's hold and bids farewell to the dangerous snares of Beauty and Desire: ―False Loue: Desyre and Bewty frayll adewe/ Dead is the roote whence all these fancyes grewe‖ (29-30). 129 ―A Farewell to false Love‖ can be viewed as a poetic soliloquy in the course of which the speaker achieves a cathartically objective interpretation of a personally disturbing experience. Each metaphor seems to bring the speaker a little closer to the realization of the significant psychological truth articulated by means of each image. That is, the entire poem constitutes a poetic metaphor which expresses in relevant terms the initial psychological confusion brought on by betrayal and the eventual moral insight and strength gained from such a terrible experience. Therefore, his personal decision (to sever his relationship with his ―false love‖) in the concluding stanza is born of his preceding reflections and so constitutes an integral part of the poem's total experience. It also constitutes in a way the positive fallout of the losses suffered in that through them the persona attains to a better perception about the fabric of life. The speaker‘s decision to detach himself from a love relatioship that is false, therefore, becomes a positive one in that it is a breaking away from ―false love‖ rather than ―ture love.‖ The latter is a love ―in the mynde euer burnynge;/ Neuer sycke, neuer ould, neuer dead/ From itt selfe neuer turnynge‖ (―Walsingham‖ 42-44). Unlike ―A Farewell to False Love‖ whose speaker decides to terminate his love, ―Like to Hermite poore,‖5 expresses a persona‘s desire to terminate all human attachments. Here, the presentation of the lover in despair, seeking isolation and obscurity (situations that never appealed to Raleigh) is a response to his lady's indifference. Given Raleigh's fondness for flamboyant clothing, his contemporaries would have probably noted the irony behind his promise that ―A gowne of graie, my bodie shall attire‖ (9): His clothes, too, antagonized many people. One of his portraits 130 shows him wearing a suit of silver armour and he glitters with diamonds, rubies and pearls. A Jesuit, who called him the ‗darling of the English Cleopatra‘, said that the pearls in his shoes alone were worth 6,000 pounds. But his clothes were not mere vanity; like his search for a royal ancestry they were a statement of his ambitions and that is why they were so resented. Aristotle had said that magnificence, a certain greatness in doing, was the mark of nobility and royalty. And although the Puritans were constantly preaching about the ungodliness of brave apparel, men of the court, like Shakespeare‘s old Polonius thought it sensible to dress expensively if one had the purse for it. (Adamson 104) In the fallen state he suffers as he composes this poem, the speaker finds no place for himself in the activities or festivities of the Court. Consequently, the speaker makes use of an extended metaphor that expresses his dejected state of mind. Here the speaker compares his circumstances to that of a hermit's, as the title suggests. In the sparse physical comforts of a hermit's way of life, he discovers a series of symbols to express various aspects of his downcast life. The poem's entire pronouncement is largely embodied in the figure of the hermit who here behaves more like a recluse. He represents the speaker's sense of disillusionment and loneliness tinged with a certain degree of self-pity. As the poem goes on, the general implications of the main simile are more directly expressed as the speaker discovers specific points of comparison between his own predicament and that of a recluse escaping from his plight under the guise of a hermit. 131 Of course, what is being described here is the psychological landscape of disillusionment. This retreat from the world which he now proposes for himself is in itself a metaphor for the general emotional detachment which he experiences in response to his recent disappointment in love. Underlying the speaker's evident determination to live out the rest of his days ―. . . in place obscure‖ (1) is a will to escape from any possible human involvement. The speaker expresses his resolution to spend the remainder of his days in quiet obscurity to ―waile such woes as time cannot recure‖ (3), because as Latham notes: ―Life seemed to [Raleigh] to offer nothing certain but sorrow‖ (xxvii). The rest of the poem goes on to relate more precisely the conditions of his new way of life. His food will be made of care and sorrow, we are told, his staff of broken hope and his bed of ―late repentance lincket with long desire‖(11). The speaker ends the sonnet on a low note that personifies his despair as waiting ―at [his] gate . . ./To let in death when Loue and Fortune will‖ (13-14). The image of a recluse, therefore, provides the speaker with an appropriate poetic symbol that helps him articulate the personal realities of his troubled world. The metaphors the ―favorite courtier‖ uses to describe Elizabeth‘s timeless perfection, grace, and heavenly beauty, are no longer evoked when Raleigh writes as a ―fallen favorite.‖ Instead, he turns inward to express his desperation and suffering with poignant clarity in ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ another poem which refers to the less serious disgrace in Raleigh‘s career than the disaster of 1592: ―My lost delights now cleane from sight of land,/ Have left me all alone in unknowne waies‖ (5-6). The narrative element in ―Farewell to the Covrt‖ possesses a comparable degree of organic coherence. Again, the ultimate purpose of the speaker's formulations is to 132 come to terms with his isolation. The title is symbolic, for his farewell was more psychological than physical in nature. With its tone of sorrow and regret, its deep concern with time, and its almost total absorption in the speaker's emotions, the poem expresses the nature of his suffering. The speaker despondently reviews the course of his life up to the present. The happiness which he enjoyed in his youth now seems like a dream––brief, irrevocable and unreal. His recollections of those ―dandled daies‖ (2) only help to sharpen his present misery. His thoughts then focus more directly on the treachery of love which has abandoned him unexpectedly, leaving him confused and defenseless in ―vnknowne waies‖ (6). Indeed, Ure suggests that the shores which have disappeared behind the horizon are those of England and the ―countrey strange‖ (9) is Ireland. However, figuratively speaking, the landscape is more psychological than literal: it is not the coast of England but, ―[his] lost delights [that are] now cleane from sight of land‖ (5), and if Ireland was the origin for the ―countrey strange‖ (9) it has been transformed by the persona's imagination into a metaphor expressing his sense of isolation and of the distance in time and situation that separates him from the joys of his past. The central image which compares the persona's predicament to a shipwreck effectively conveys his sense of loss, isolation, and helplessness. And like a shipwreck, which is washed up on the shores of a foreign land and is hence displaced, he too feels utterly estranged and lonely in his role as non-favorite: he is ―As in a countrey strange without companion,‖ (9). Now in sorrow's company, having no ties or hopes to give meaning to his existence, he ―only waile[s] the wrong of deaths delaies‖ (10). What hints at the utter dejection and desperation of the speaker is his bewailing the fact that death has not come sooner to free him from this metaphoric land of sorrow. This extreme loss of hope coupled with self-pity 133 reminds us of Shelley‘s familiar West Wind lines ―I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!/ A heavy weight of hours has chain‘d and bow‘d/ One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud‖ (St. 4). Raleigh concludes with a reiteration of this death-wish nurtured by his desire to be finally liberated from the cares and haunting memories that weigh him down: he is one ―Whom care forewarnes, ere age and winter colde,/ To haste me hence, to find my fortunes folde‖ (13-14). He suggests that the frustrations and difficulties of life are too much to endure, that death is a more desirable and a more appropriate fate than continued life. The unquestioned belief that death would certainly be a better state than life reflects his extreme sense of loss and highest degree of hopelessness, (though the occasions differ) in the words of Pope in his ―Ode on Solitude,‖ Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. (17-20) Such total despair of Raleigh‘s persona is less apparent in ―Like to a Hermite Poore‖ because in the latter composition the persona possesses a vital tie that still binds him to life through which his love would have access to him in his figurative seclusion. In a sense, the former poem can be viewed as a formal interlude to ―Farewell to the Court‖; the hermit's retreat from life into a reclusive and therefore stagnant world of introspection and romantic nostalgia presents a psychologically valid prelude to the experience of absolute despair related in ―Farewell.‖ Significantly, in the concluding 134 couplet of the former, the speaker predicts arriving at such a moment of utter hopelessness: ―And at my gate dispaire shall linger still,/ To let in death when Loue and Fortune will‖ (13-14). Although grief and suffering will be the diet upon which his soul will be nourished, when love has completely expired and his ―dandled daies‖ (―Farewell‖ 2) in court are a thing of the past, despair precipitates in the speaker of ―Farewell‖ an impatient longing for death, symbolized by the dying year: ―I only waile the wrong of deaths delaies,/ Whose sweete spring spent, whose sommer wel nie don,/ of all which past, the sorrow only staies‖ (10-12). Raleigh‘s ―fallen courtier‖ status ultimately unleashed an abundance of negative feelings that culminated in an overwhelmingly pessimistic worldview. In ―On the Life of Man,‖ Raleigh‘s persona presents a poetic expression of his darkest outlook on life. In order to answer the question ―what is our Life?‖ (posed by the opening line) the speaker deploys the classical stage metaphor comparing life to a play: What is our life? A play of passion, Our mirth the musicke of diuision, Our mothers wombs the tyring houses be, Where we are drest for this short Comedy. (1-4) Significantly, Raleigh‘s persona describes life in the above lines not merely as a play, but as a ―. . . play of passion‖ (1) thereby emphasizing the intensity of emotional involvement and particularly of suffering, which identifies man's activities on earth. Moreover, joy precipitates envy in others who are less joyful. Hence, happiness serves as a divisive element in 135 a world that we have been preparing to enter since conception. The succeeding lines paradoxically refer to this play of passion as not only a ―Comedy‖ (4), but a comedy that is brief in duration (the meaning of this seemingly contradictory definition becomes clear in the following lines). Relief from the incessant demands and activities of life comes only with death when ―our graues [that] hide vs from the searching Sun/ Are like drawne curtaynes when the play is done‖ (7-8). The irony is implicit through an aspect of the deeply personal and tragic strain that underlies and colors the poem. The grave which the speaker points out as man‘s ultimate dwelling, leads him to what appears to be a very personal reflection on his own thwarted efforts to leave a lasting legacy. Here we are at the heart of Raleigh‘s approach to Time as we have observed it elsewhere in his work; the pessimism prevails through the image of ―drawne curtaynes.‖ Rather than the speaker drawing his metaphorical curtains himself, they are drawn for him by the figurative stage hands connoting external forces that are beyond his control. The power of the image is heightened dramatically at this point. We are lifted forcibly out of a concern with a particular aspect of the human condition into a rather horrifying confrontation with our own frail mortality, our common demise. Through bitterness and regret, the speaker presents our doom as fact. The speaker implies that human life devoid of any lasting significance or stature is structured as a ―comedy,‖ but man's moral and emotional involvement temporarily imbues life with the kind of seriousness that life is not essentially equipped to sustain. Man's part, mostly of his own choice, in this illusory play of passion is ultimately mocked by the inscrutable reality of death, which reduces all else to insignificance. The accruing narrative 136 implications of the essential absurdity of life and the vanity of human struggle are recapitulated in the final couplet, which contrasts this projected insignificance of life with the ultimate reality of death. The earlier, seemingly self-contradictory definition of life as a comic play of passion becomes clearer in retrospect. In this poem, the speaker‘s version of the classical comparison of life to a play is characterized by unrelieved gloom which maintains that involvement in life is ridiculous since all lives end in the grave. This composition projects a dark, joyless kind of existence in which the only relief from suffering (passion) is afforded by death which, in the persona‘s final analysis remains more real than life: ―Thus march we playing to our latest rest,/ Onely we dye in earnest, that‘s no Iest‖ (9-10). Through this grim kind of humor, Raleigh deals with time in terms of his own personal experience. The tone seems to be one of bitter amusement: he is a fool to hope, a fool to write, and a fool to have believed in an earthly permanence. Instead of life being a comedy where things end on a positive note, and every character goes home with the woman he loved, in Raleigh there is a pervasive sense of life as a tragedy or at least a sad tale; malicious laughter is evoked by envied people falling from eminence writhing in misery that ends only in their eventual ruin. Raleigh‘s imagination and pessimistic gloom are apparent here, as well as his bitterness at the ravishes of death. We feel the extent to which this world was Raleigh‘s concern, and he was loath to leave its stage. Spiller notes how the loss of court favor of a fickle monarch tended to undermine the courtier's ambition. The monarch becomes a malicious obstacle in the way of inspiration and genius: ―to complain of mutability is thus part of the stance of the experienced courtier, but it involves more than 137 simply writing a sonnet to complain of a favour refused. The persona has to look outwards towards the world, and become a generalised authority or spectator. . .‖ (128). This is Raleigh‘s situation in ―The Lie.‖ Such disfavor propells him to ―look outwords‖ and address even more serious issues of life and death in his verse. Having lost his role as a dashing courtier once envied by others, in the persona's long-restrained anger bursts out in the strongest denunciation and criticism he ever directed toward society. ―The Lie,‖ composed during Raleigh‘s imprisonment for treason perhaps, attacks the falsity and hypocrisy that are apparent to him in almost every facet of life: from the court which ―glowes,/And shines like rotten wood‖ (7–8), to the Church which ―. . . doth no good‖ (10). On a biographical level, the Queen‘s death resulted in Raleigh‘s rapid ruin at the court showing the extent to which events from Raleigh‘s life spilled over into his poetic world; both permeated with suffering. In the throes of grief, fear, and despair, Raleigh‘s outburst of emotion shows the extreme feeling that can be involved with loss, whereas the many instances of loss in the speaker's life show how pervasive loss can be in a person's experience. According to Latham, ―His melancholy was partly natural and partly brought about by the circumstances of his life, which were cruel enough to embitter any man‖ (xxvii). Raleigh‘s attacks in ―The Lie‖ appear to be spawned by despair, frustration, and loss. Everything works against him in the shadow of his disgrace and connected with his sense of disillusionment in the experience of life is his awareness that he has nothing left to lose. He launches his full scale attack against everyone and everything; he presents his loss as an inescapable part of life which hits the persona with such force that he must 138 radically re-examine and alter his basic attitudes, including his moral attitudes, toward himself and the world around him. Through this emotionally charged context, the indignant tone with which the speaker reviews instance upon instance of social corruption enhances the sense of urgency created by the swift movement of the narrative. The poem has received a great deal of critical acclaim (Adamson 109) through its portrayal of a society festering with corruption and evil: Tell men of high condition, that mannage the estate, Their purpose is ambition, their practise onely hate (19-22) These lines are far removed from the perfect world of ―Sweete ar the thovghtes‖ which depicts a basically rational world in which acts always have predictable and just consequences. In that ideal society, happiness and worldly success are the well deserved rewards of virtue and industry. In contrast, ―The Lie‖ presents a disillusioned speaker who defines the widereaching corruption of contemporary society with the audacity of a man facing death and having nothing left to lose: he bids his soul to ―Goe since I needs must die,/ and giue the world the lie‖ (5-6). In a number of aphorisms, the persona lashes society for its hypocrisy and moral dissolution. The speaker moves from the corruption of men and their institutions to a more general indictment of the human condition where time is involved: Tell zeale it wants deuotion 139 tell loue it is but lust Tell time it meets but motion, tell flesh it is but dust. (31-34) Tell fortune of her blindnesse, tell nature of decay, Tell friendship of vnkindnesse, tell iustice of delay. (55-58) The lines stop with lust and dust, and with decay and delay. The concepts are interestingly paralleled not only by the rhymes, but also by their abruptness relative to the overall motion of the poem. The end-stopped stanzas communicate effectively the speaker‘s profound insights as he ponders friends, justice, life, and death. Also, the indentations within the lines reinforce his need to pause and reflect over these weighty issues. It could be suggested that the abrupt stop is a formal reinforcement of the underlying sense of death inherent in ―dust‖ and ―decay.‖ Love, time, and fortune have taken their toll. Time marches toward death, and there is no permanence. The persona‘s juxtaposition of man‘s weakness and temporality with the power of Time, lays before us the awful reality of a life that turns to dust. Moreover, the absence of moral integrity in man's daily dealings with one another, a legitimate subject for criticism, is not the only source of the speaker's frustration. He passionately denounces also such incontrovertible conditions of life as fortune, time, mortality and decay. Little wonder therefore that Raleigh, having fully experienced the turns of fortune etc, should have these pessimistic feelings about such concepts as they actually affect his life; his verse, his present labors, and his past service 140 are all futile attempts to change his present lot. As Raleigh's persona laconically identifies the widely different forms of moral dissolution in society, he does not interrupt the movement of the poem to discuss or to substantiate. Ernest Rhys notes how, ―The terse strain and the iron resonance of Raleigh‘s verse are heard like a gallop of a great horse coming over a down‖ (154). A major factor contributing to the success of the poem is how the form reinforces the message. We are forced to pause at the end of each stanza. In fact, the pause is longer because we have to take two pauses –– one for the end-stopped line and another for the space that follows. Because each stanza puts forth an acrid attack against some social ill; no image or thought is elaborated upon or is interrupted by discursive passages. Instead, it is made to linger in our minds. The speaker seeks to reinforce his theme by an accumulation of specific examples. Along with its refrain, the strength of the argument derives mainly from the rhetorical power of forceful aphoristic declarations. Such declarations involve the speaker who questions the purpose of life, since everything is elusive and false, and all our accomplishments lead nowhere. He rhetorically questions what will last, proclaiming that everything in life is fleeting and therefore, futile: Tell faith its fled the Citie tell how the country erreth, Tell manhood shakes off pittie tell vertue least preferreth And if they doe reply, spare not to giue the lie. (67-72) 141 Clearly, the speaker gives the lie to virtually all social, political and religious institutions and also exposes man's false claims to faith and morality. Although the speaker concludes his attack against his dissolute society by acknowledging that only by dying can one reject the world and its malice, this note of defiant self-assertion suggests that perhaps the real motive of the poem has in fact been provided by a sense of personal disappointment and not by a disinterested and righteous moral indignation as Adamson and Folland have assumed (209). We infer that the speaker‘s own disgust with the world is occasioned by ―Goe since I needs must die‖ (5), not, since death is our common end. By expressing his imminent death, his personal tragedy becomes evident. However, by the end of the poem, the pressure of passionate, private feelings bring to life the persona‘s defiant assertion of the resilience of his spirit: ―Stab at thee he that will,/ no stab thy soule can kill‖ (77-78). Raleigh‘s life serves as a significant point of reference here. These lines may be seen as speaking not just of Raleigh‘s fallen state, but of the general contempt with which he would have thought others now viewed him: imprisoned, under the death penalty for treason, his worldly possessions seized, and bereft of hope. Yet, Raleigh‘s persona rescues himself from complete annihilation by asserting the immortality of his soul. We know the joys of attachment as the experience of the pleasure of enduring commitments. However, betrayed and hurt by his closest friends— ―Tell friedship of vnkindnesse‖ (57)—the poem‘s succession of terrible outbursts raises an obvious question for the speaker––namely, whether there is any possibility of justice in the world, or whether the world is 142 fundamentally indifferent or even hostile to humankind. ―The Lie‖ is a bitter and angry poem from a persona who has been abandoned by the only world he cares for. Probing into the dark side of man in the ―fallen courtier‖ pieces both personalizes and universalizes his statements. Raleigh was able to ―humanize‖ his verse through an individual‘s consciousness of his condition which he often expresses by means of the first person plural pronoun: ―When we have wandred all our wayes/ Shutts up the story of our dayes‖ (―Nature that washt her hands in milke‖ 35-36); ―Thus march we playing to our latest rest,/ Onely we dye in earnest, that‘s no Iest‖ (―On the Life of Man‖ 9-10). He implicates us in common death, which occupies a central position in Raleigh‘s poetic persona‘s preoccupations. The losses in his life, which shook him down at times to his very core, forced Raleigh to contemplate a world that did not conform to simplistic notions. Surrounded by the hardships and the grim realities of life, Raleigh is compelled to contemplate the fragility and precariousness not only of his own life but of life as such. In the shattered mirror of his own life he sees reflected the story of life per se. His poetry is fraught with insightfulness; he had no sentimental illusions about life. With his courage, resourcefulness, and versatility, Raleigh revealed his awareness of the finiteness of all pleasure that implies recognition of one's limitations and precludes any false hope of eternal joy. Latham offers an explanation in this connection: Because he threw himself so wholeheartedly into all it had to offer, he was almost morbidly aware of its transience. He had run the gamut of experience, and for this very reason he knew 143 how beauty is never more keenly apprehended than in the moment that emphasizes its inevitable decay, that light shows never brighter than between two darknesses. He begins a lovesong, and the last verse is an epitaph. (xxvii) As particular events and observations run throughout his work, they form the basis for his deepest personal experiences of life: beauty that withers; friends who prove treacherous; and ultimately, hopes that are shattered. Clearly, Raleigh is at his best when he writes about his personal feelings and experiences in the ―fallen courtier‖ pieces. As I have demonstrated, in such poems the organic coherence which gradually emerges from among his apparently chaotic poetic statements is far more meaningful than the surface unity of his contrived arguments in the ―favorite courtier‖ compositions. The persona who glorified his Queen when he was her favorite, is shoved to cry out against her extreme insensitivity, is compelled to bemoan the misery of old age, and is forced to lament his isolation and loneliness. As a ―fallen‖ persona, he reflects on the way the object of his love and admiration could be both the symbol of eternity and the embodiment of mutability. Though his royal mistress is endowed with all the merits of supremacy, though she is as magnificent as the heavens and characterized with divine qualities in the ―favorite courtier‖ compositions, in the ―fallen‖ poems she is a mortal being who is vulnerable to limitation, incompetence, and volatility. The exalted love of the persona is deceived by the very epitome of ideal virtue. These dark, personal lyrics written outside the conventionally idealistic atmosphere of the court, therefore, provide him with the form best suited to the particular attributes of his poetic art and 144 temperament, all bound up with the central theme of the sense of loss. The majority of his most successful compositions are in the form of soliloquies, the greatest one of which is his longest work, The 21: And Last Booke Of The Ocean to Scinthia. It is appropriate, therefore, to extend our discussion of Raleigh‘s loss-struck ―voice‖ with an examination of that poem, in the next chapter. 145 Notes, Chapter III 1 Yvor Winters discusses the aphoristic style as a distinct school of poetry in which an essentially Medieval form of expression was preserved and developed in the 16th Century. Winters explains that this ―plain‖ style is generally superior to the new, flowery poetic idiom of the age. 2 For mythical background and excerpts from Theocrites, see Edith Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. 3 See The Poetics of Plot: The Case of English Renaissance Drama, by Thomas G. Pavel, p. 96, and A Companion to Renaissance Drama by Arthur F. Kinney, p.22. Both books discuss how the bleeding corpse of Arden wrings a confession from his wife Alice in the Elizabethan play Arden of Feversham. 4 His writings abound in travel and sea-faring images. A pilgrimage provides the unifying element in both ―As yov cam from the holy land‖ and ―The passionate mans Pilgrimage.‖ Thus by means of a simple image, Raleigh's persona indicates the fact that he has led a turbulent life and that his death is imminent. Also, in ―Sovghte by the World,‖ the speaker talks about his body sinking in search of the shore (11-12). A similar navigational image appears towards the end of Ocean to Scinthia: Seeke not the soonn in clovdes, when it is sett... 146 On highest mountaynes wher thos Sedars grew, Agaynst whose bancks, the trobled ocean bett, And weare the markes to finde thy hoped port, Into a soyle farr off them sealves remove, On Sestus shore, Leanders late resorte, Hero hath left no lampe to Guyde her love. (482-88) The haven which the speaker seeks from the turbulent ocean represents the inner peace which comes with the fulfillment of love. That fulfillment, however, remains unattainable for the speaker who is abandoned by his Hero with no sign to guide him to the port of love. 5 According to Latham, this poem is a translation from Philippe Desportes‘ Diane, ―Book 2, sonnet viii,‖ published in 1573 p. 105. 147 Chapter IV Love and Loss ―In simpell words that I my woes cumplayne” (Scinthia 2) 148 In reference to the preceding chapter, we can learn a great deal about the persona by uniting the two voices. For instance, in The 21st: and last booke of the Ocean to Scinthia especially, we have our fullest statement on Raleigh's relationship with the Queen and our most extensive example of his poetic art. Scinthia tells us much about the poet's relationship to Elizabeth I as well as the realities of Raleigh's world. It would be difficult and disappointing to read Scinthia with objectivity or to maintain equal distance between the author and characters within the poem, for it was written to and for a private audience of one. We are concerned with appreciating the poem—not only its syntax, its rhetorical devices, its sound effects, and its diction, but also its allusions and implications. In this instance biographical details relevant to Raleigh's world and his relationship with its Queen are helpful. In order to appreciate the poem fully we need to be aware that the drama of the poem—the exposition of action, character, and thought— derives from non-fictional sources. Unless we are to be at a disadvantage, we need to have some understanding of not only Raleigh's biography but the cultural setting in which the poet thrived. It was amidst the shock, the frustration, and the anguish of imprisonment that Ocean to Scinthia was born. Perhaps confession and apologies were called for, but Raleigh turned instead to the abandoned lover‘s gestures of despair. Shut up in his cell and allowed no visitors, Raleigh turned to his poetry in an attempt to distract his mind from his intense suffering. Despite its evidently unfinished state, the poem is at least a second draft (Latham 124). It is to this poem that I wish to turn in particular, for a close reading of Scinthia will give specificity to the concepts discussed thus far. 149 There are several difficult questions concerning Scinthia: how do we classify the poem and what it is essentially about? It is not an eclogue, despite its occasional pastoral elements. It is not a book in a ―classical‖ sequence, despite its title and Latham's suggestion to that effect (126-127). In short, the only formal category into which it fits is ―lyric poem.‖ It is, to be sure, a very long lyric, but certainly a lyric. It abounds with personal feelings and is loaded with passion and meaningful reference, and in its style and stanza structure its origins seem to be in the native lyric tradition. The conventions from which it draws ought to provide us with some ideas: elements of pastoral complaint indicate that the speaker is lowly and unhappy; elements of Petrarchan suffering and praise for the absent mistress indicate that he yearns for an ideal no longer accessible to him; his renunciation of the temporal world shows that he is aware that time and fortune betray him, and he must paradoxically seek permanence outside of time. This is what we see Yeats doing in his Byzantium poems later; that is, seeking permanence in Byzantium, the land of timeless perfection; that is, outside the mundaneness of time and space. Raleigh‘s poem is constructed from various traditions—mostly the Petrarchan, neo-Platonic, and pastoral, but also from the tradition of renouncing the temporal world (where a persona wishes for death in order to eschew the burdens of the world). Scinthia is therefore an expression of the speaker's feelings of loss at having been abandoned by the Queen, and is thus a complaint, both using and playing upon conceits from the aforementioned traditions. However, the poem is more complex than what its conventions at first imply. It is a poem born out of a desperate pining for reconciliation. 150 Further, it is a private poem, meant for a limited audience, and at least some of its obscurity may be traced to that. Even the names ―Ocean‖ and ―Cinthia‖ seem strangely obscure and uncertain. By themselves they are significant and intriguing concepts attached to Raleigh‘s association with the Queen: the ocean eternally drawn by the moon but never reaching her, the moon constantly changing and yet always reaffirming herself; the ocean restless and immensely powerful, the moon cold, distant, and beautiful, reminiscent of the absent presence or present absence of the ―Virgin Queen.‖ Yet Raleigh does not weave his poem around these images or draw out their latent meaning. On the contrary, the sun appears more frequently in the poem than references to the moon, which the title of the poem leads us to expect; the moon, almost non-existent in the poem, is replaced in part by the sun. For instance, line 250 obviously refers to the moon, but that body‘s only illumination is the sun light that it reflects: ―When shee that from the soon reves poure and light/ Did but decline her beames as discontented/ Convertinge sweetest dayes to saddest night‖ (250-252). This line reinforces the dominant image of the sun that recurs throughout the poem. In fact, there are four times as many references in Scinthia to the sun as there are apparent references to the moon, and these provide the most striking images in the poem expressing the persona‘s plight; ―that ever shininge soon‖ (106) refers to Queen Elizabeth, her love for Raleigh, the favor she displayed toward him, or her power in general. Moreover, failing rays of sunlight, after the sun has set, evoke a state of melancholy; the speaker‘s attitude towards this condition defines the heightened, tragic sense it conveys. With this reading, it is possible to view Cinthia as simply a name for the Queen, a name which Raleigh uses here with little of its lunar connotations. 151 Although the poem appears to be a veiled petition to the Queen, Raleigh never addresses her in the poem. He never suggests that there is a real chance for her pity. That he expected her to read his work seems clear (though whether she did in fact read it can never be confirmed).1 Whether Raleigh was Elizabeth's lover in a physical sense is a matter of conjecture. Whether he felt that he was in love with her and that the loss of her favor was the same as the loss of love is a matter for discussion through a reading of The Ocean to Scinthia. But what starts as a poem based on identifiable traditions, and with an identifiable purpose, ends, finally, as a long and complicated emotional meditation on mutability and personal loss. Indeed, the speaker in Ocean to Scinthia undergoes losses from all sides: his mistress' love, the courtly world around him, his very identity, all are gone. He even feels that his poetic style loses its vigor; being loved by the Queen was his inspiration, ―Oh, trew desire the spur of my consayte,/Oh,worthiest spirit, my minds impulsion‖ (38-39). Without this creative force, the kind of poetry he once wrote—―Gathered thos floures, to her pure sences pleasinge‖ (46)—is no longer possible. The speaker‘s poetry was a necessary component to his cherished world now irrevocably lost: ―Vnder thos healthless trees I sytt alone,/Wher ioyfull byrdds singe neather lovely layes/Nor Phillomen recounts her direfull mone‖ (26-28). Although she is praised as the ―…cause of beinge‖ (444), she is also the cause of ‗nonbeing,‘ for she has brought about his death, as well as the death of all other normally healthy, living things in nature. With this idea, Cinthia is both a creative and a destructive force at the same time. The loss of her attention thus gains in importance not only through its structural role in the poem but also through the dramatic or narrative emphasis put on it. 152 The Ocean to Scinthia can be seen as having an internal completeness of structure that underlies the apparent fragmentation that first meets the eye. Such a style is rather indicative of his fluctuant moods resulting from his frustration. His mind in the given state is unable to think coherently and so the same is reflected in his jerky and bumpy style. The repeated images in the poem—fire, water, natural fertility—indicate a consistent and meaningful direction through the confusion of fluctuating emotions: Scinthia begins and ends with the development of a winter pastoral scene, a landscape that serves as a symbolic reflection of the motif of desolation and withering that exists inside the speaker‘s heart and mind. The first thirty-six and the last fifty-two lines develop this mood, echoing several central images—withered leaves, dryness, impending storms, sheep in the fields. The opening and closing lines share certain specific words, concepts, and rhyming sounds —complain, again, mean (pronounced ―main‖), mind, and sand—which suggest circularity and closure. Moreover, ―Woes‖ in the opening section is echoed in the ―woe‖ of the closing; the ―joys‖ of line 4 corresponds to the ―comforts‖ of line 520, and the image of death dominates both sections. Thus, the imagery is intricately unified in suggestive sequences. The constant array of images of dust, mud and raging waters, ―th‘Arabien sande‖ (478), the ―trobled ocean‖ (484), the fire of destruction, the vestal fire of love, the waters of redemption, and the waters of death give the reader a sense of the persona‘s despair and feelings of desolation. That this poem exists as an intentionally unfinished structure may be argued on grounds of its possible organization in terms of a compositional strategy common in the Renaissance. Such a strategy denotes the way in 153 which poems achieve symmetrical or otherwise significant internal structures through repetition of motifs, images, numerical patterns, and even rhymes to achieve balance and internal cross-referencing related to the main ideas (Tuve 38). Beginnings and ends of poems are frequently linked in this way, and the central idea or image often occurs in the exact center of the poem. According to Graham Hough in A Preface to the Faerie Queene, Spenser accomplishes such a structure in each of the first three books of The Faerie Queene. In Scinthia, generally, Raleigh employs simple diction, rhetorical parallel and repetition, images of decay, rhythms and line movement that bring out a tone of frustration and futility; in addition, there are nonextended displays of wit and strong underlying ironies. As we have seen in Chapter Three, Raleigh seldom sustains a simile or metaphor for its own sake. He uses it briefly, for emotive purposes, and appropriately, for the force of its traditional connotations. In general, then, Raleigh's imagery is simple, direct and functional. The similes which establish points of comparison between complex ideas and abstractions and the simple activities of everyday life imbue the diction with precision without affecting the natural quality of his speech. This unpretentious, almost informal aspect of his personal idiom injects a powerful private tone into his writings. Moreover, his works are relatively free of the pretentiously intricate classical allusions sometimes used by his contemporaries. For instance, in Drayton‘s ―To the Virginian Voyage,‖ the speaker refers to ―Apollo‘s sacred tree‖ (63); in Daniel‘s ―Epistle to Henry Wriothesley Earl of Southhampton,‖ the persona alludes to Roman heroes and soldiers, 154 Mutius the fire, the tortures Regulus Did make the miracles of faith and zeal; Exile renowned and graced Rutilius; Imprisonment and poison did reveal The worth of Socrates; Fabricius‘ Poverty did grace that common-weal More than all Syllae‘s riches, got with strife, And cato‘s death did vie with Caeser‘s life. (17-24) Moreove, Sidney recalls the legendary giant with a hundred eyes in ―Who is it That This Dark Night,‖ ―Well, begone, begone I say,/ Lest that Argus‘ eyes perceive you‖ (76-77). In the case of Raleigh, however, the simple and familiar experiences of life which he ordinarily prefers to employ convey his meaning unobtrusively and with great effectiveness. The primary function of metaphor in Raleigh's diction, then, is to imbue his personal ideas and experiences with larger relevance. In short, the important techniques found in this poem are, basically, the same as those we have already observed in the rest of the canon. Here they are joined by an apparently deliberate obscurity of syntax, which forces the simple diction and recognizable images to circle around a core of meaning that cannot, evidently, be stated directly. The bulk of Raleigh's imagery in Scinthia is of the sun, of water, and of vegetation. The water metaphor sometimes represented Raleigh himself: his name was pronounced ―water‖; he was the shepherd of the ocean in Spenser's ―Colin Clouts Come Home Again,‖2 and he is the ―Ocean‖ writing to ―Cinthia.‖ Traditionally, water represents both life and death. It is the source of life, both in the teeming sea and in religion. It is central to death 155 by drowning, and also to the incessant movement toward eternity as the river runs inexorably into the sea, which to the human eye looks limitless. More subtly, decaying vegetation also connotes both life and death: although it promises new life as seasons change through winter to spring, rotting vegetation suggests the reality of stagnation and death. It is almost the same as later in Shelley‘s Ode to the West Wind, the imagery of decaying leaves suggests decay on the one hand and the promise of new life on the other, as the dead leaves become food for the new vegetation growth. The West Wind plays here the role of both a destroyer and a preserver. Moreover, in this poem winter and spring, symbolizing life and death, go hand in hand and in the words of Shelley ―If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?‖ (V, 70). The passion, wit, and insights in this poem have remarkable power. Cinthia represents the sun and the moon, eternity and time, and the Ocean must obey her just as man must move through changeable life to death. In facing the harsh realities of love and fortune, as we do in Scinthia and throughout Raleigh's poetry, we are left exposed to the transience and deviousness of a mutable world; life is but sorrow, filled with ironies. Yet the poem's grand obscurity seems finally to bring us to the unanswerable question: Is there, or can there be, life in death? Such abstractions may become more concrete as we move further and deeper into the poem. Thus Scinthia is an indirect petition; it asks for life at the same moment that the speaker suggests his life is a living death. For Raleigh the Queen is the source of his life in time and his vision of eternity, a beauty whose effects are unlimited by time or age and cannot be altered by 156 circumstances: ―A vestal fier that burnes, but never wasteth‖ (189). How can he act in time, when that source is lost to him? To be cut off from it is like death, and Raleigh must petition, as he later did to Queen Anne: ―But if both God and tyme shall make you know/ That I your humblest vassell am opprest/ Then cast your eyes on undeserved woe‖ (31-33). If what he has been denied through time and fate is not restored, he lives in death: ―. . . I perish liuinge‖ (172). One way of understanding the opening of the poem, its rendering of a blighted landscape without Cinthia‘s derived light, is to grasp the notion that his mistress is non-existent because she is also dead to him: ―yow that then died when first my fancy erred/Ioyes under dust‖ (3-4). Therefore, dead to him, she has renounced her being, which is, as the poem later goes on to say, to be bright and beneficent. The situation presented here is, therefore, paradoxical: in a poem of 512 lines the speaker is addressing a non-being or death (his joys interred). Hence the introductory: ―If to the livinge weare my muse addressed‖ (5). The added paradox is that the speaker is himself dead (―shee sleaps thy death‖) though this is more philosophically than poetically possible since the speaker does speak throughout in his own voice. It may be, however, that he is like the slain body whose angst-ridden self lives on after the essential life has ended: ―But as a boddy violently slayne/ Retayneath warmth although the spirrit be gonne‖ (73-74). Or like the water-wheel that keeps turning for a while after the water ceases to flow, ―Or as a wheele forst by the fallinge streame,/ Although the course be turnde sume other way/ Douth for a tyme go rovnde vppon the beame‖ (81-83). These are examples of phenomena possible in nature: bodies––especially those violently slain––do occasionally experience residual movement; just as a well-lubricated mill wheel would continue to turn after the water that provided its power has been diverted. Indeed, the 157 poem is suffused with images of failing light, the fading light that remains after the sun has set, and the idea is consistent with the philosophically resigned mood of the poem as a whole. What we witness in Ocean to Scinthia is a man‘s inner struggle to reconcile himself with the reality and implications of a personal loss very much green in memory; though in its artistic treatments he rises to hit upon universal human experience and discover relevant operative structures of human fate. As seen in the earlier chapters, variations on this theme recur in many of Raleigh‘s shorter pieces. Ocean to Scinthia, however, presents the most comprehensive psychological depiction of suffering. In fact, it is his ―sorrow‖ that compels him to impart his personal tale of woe: ―Write on the tale that Sorrow bydds thee tell‖ (214). We overhear the speaker as he repeatedly tries to reason with his emotions. His rational mind surveys the past and present developments in his relationship with Cinthia in an attempt to raise in himself the necessary emotional adjustment to his troubling circumstances. Each time the voice of reason is drowned by a strong surge of emotion which negates logic. It brings to our mind the image of a man striving hard to climb up a slippery slope and if he goes up two steps he slides back four steps only to start anew—apparently doomed to failure. In the narrative progression, this pattern creates the effect of the poem‘s never really having started. As Philip Edwards observes, the poem ―. . . is about to relate the whole great tragedy but then is pulled aside into a digression. Then we reach a point at which we realize that the whole story has, piecemeal, been related and there is nothing more to do except bring the poem to a close‖ (115). 468 158 One of the attractive features of Scinthia for the modern reader is its fragmented utterances, as if we were actually observing Raleigh‘s mind turn round on itself, moving one way and then another to try to bring some order to the chaotic landscape of his imagination. The abruptness of the turns of thought, the disruptions, all mirror the disjointed workings of a mind in torment. While on the surface this wavering may suggest confusion, it in fact helps relate the inner conflict (between sense and feeling) which the speaker must resolve before he can come to terms with the meaning of his dislocating experience. The dramatic tension which the central conflict generates in the narrative also enhances the realism of the poetic experience projecting the true state of his situation. The poem‘s symbolic waste-land setting, on the other hand, lends aesthetic unity to the narrative tone as it underscores the speaker‘s predominant sense of hopelessness in memorably concrete and vivid images. Therefore, from the outset we notice that the introductory lines identify the poem as a soliloquy revolving around the speaker‘s intense sense of loss and desperation. Indeed, Ocean to Scinthia is an allegorical dialogue between the mind which is no longer in possession of ―her own spirrit‖ (6) and the memory which is set on joys long gone. Within the narrative structure of a dramatic dialogue between two opposing inner forces, the poem‘s seemingly disjointed passages assume an organic unity outside the terrain of logic, at the level of the experience of unrelenting loss. The effect of this loose syntactical construction is to simulate the natural process of thinking. As such, it constitutes a formal extension of the poem's presentational technique. In other words, in the course of these lines we are presented not with a polished, neatly expressed idea, the end result of the 159 process of reasoning, but with the process itself, which rather moves in a nonlinear stream-of-consciousness mode. The poem is filled with digressions which are important to the texture of the work, and highly personal. At times, Raleigh discusses his present feelings; at times he recapitulates the feelings he had at some past time. At many points, he seems to refer to specific events from his life. The comparisons, the association of ideas, the qualifying remarks are all articulated as they naturally hit upon his line of reasoning. The train of thought which the speaker excitedly pursues in these lines dramatizes an underlying impulse to give meaningful expression to one aspect of his traumatic experience. Most significantly, the soliloquy is informed by psychologically a meaningful pattern of development which more than any other single factor contributes to the compelling realism of Scinthia. The initial supremacy of emotions over intellect, the futile but uncontrollable reshaping of happy memories, the sudden retrogressions into melancholic emotionalism in seemingly objective moments, and even the choice of images are formal extensions of this central psychological realism. The poem presents a comprehensive and uniquely successful account of the complex and harrowing inner changes that this persona has had to undergo in order to establish form and meaning from his emotionally charged chaotic impressions. What specifically renders the poem unique, however, is not so much the subject matter but its fusion with a highly dramatic presentational poetic method; the speaker‘s thoughts move from lamenting the present to wallowing in the painful memories of the past. His mind is in a constant struggle with the reenactment of these painful recollections. So, Raleigh's persona does not merely report to us the confusion, grief, and inner strife 160 precipitated by the recent turn of events. Rather, he dramatically ―presents‖ his personal struggle with these and other dislocating forces of his experience; we actually witness the distraction which grief works in him and are made aware of the exact terms of his inner conflict. The incorporation of the speaker's thought process into the narrative element, then, not only reinforces the poem's formal structure as a soliloquy but also lends further poetic reality to the central drama of his search to find meaning behind his loss. ****** As a result of his loss and subsequent isolation, the speaker is driven to find a new approach to his poetry. In the very first lines of Ocean to Scinthia, Raleigh's persona addresses the difficulty of composition, creativity, and expression: Sufficeth it to yow my joyes interred, In simpell wordes that I my woes cumplayne, Yow that then died when first my fancy erred, Joyes under dust that never live agayne, If to the livinge weare my muse adressed, Or did my minde her own spirrit still infold, Weare not my livinge passion so repressed, As to the dead, the dead did thes unfold, Sume sweeter wordes, sume more becumming vers, Should wittness my myshapp in hygher kynd, But my loves wounds, my fancy in the hearse, 161 The Idea but restinge, of a wasted minde, The blossumes fallen, the sapp gon from the tree, The broken monuments of my great desires, From thes so lost what may th'affections bee, What heat in Cynders of extinguisht fiers? (1-16) Poetic style and emotion are linked. A phrase like ―The broken monuments of my great desires‖ which refers to the persona‘s frustration and despair also suggest the nature of the verse: the complex syntax, logical discontinuities, sudden shifts of imagery and leaps in time. C. S. Lewis has observed somewhat patronizingly of Ocean to Scinthia that ―as often happens in the work of an amateur, what is unfinished is more impressive, certainly more exciting, than what is finished. . .‖ (14). Yet the poem's excellence is deliberate; Raleigh may have planned to rewrite specific lines, but there is no documentation or proof to assert he would have modified or changed essential features. On the contrary, the recurrent depictions of things broken, disconnected, fragmented, injured, withered, and spoiled indicate that Raleigh was aware of this monumental undertaking. Ocean to Scinthia is not only about the loss of love but about the loss of an inspiring and extravagant realm nurtured and validated by that love. Another strikingly unusual aspect of the poem is its method of exposition. In principle, its images often function as ―objective correlatives‖ in Eliot‘s terminology. That is, rather than talk about his emotions, Raleigh‘s persona transcribes them as metaphoric scenes which ―present‖ his emotional experiences in readily comprehensible visual pictures; he presents 162 to the reader personal and otherwise incommunicable impressions in readily recognizable emotive symbols. A series of such objective correlatives define the speaker‘s psychological state of mind at the onset. He relates his sense of sterility and hopelessness in a quick succession of images depicting death in nature and things: The blossumes fallen, the sapp gon from the tree The broken monuments of my great desires From thes so lost what may th‘ affections bee What heat in Cynders of extinguisht fires? (13-16) The answer to his rhetorical question is that little heat remains in the extinguished fire of his love for and devotion to the Queen. The effect of line 16 is enhanced if one notices that the fires in the metaphor have not died down through time but have been ―extinguisht,‖ that is, they have been doused before the combustible material was used up. This word conveys the idea that Raleigh‘s love for and devotion to the Queen had been ended prematurely, while both he and she had life and time to enjoy it. The withered tree, ruined art objects, and dying fire all act as emotional symbols of his sense of closeness to death. Raleigh‘s greatest artistic achievement resides in the expression of such apparently overwhelming emotions in memorably vivid, expansive images, while preserving the poetic illusion of spontaneity. Diction and more specifically metaphor are of paramount significance in this respect. The ―naturalness‖ of Raleigh‘s poetic idiom is reinforced by the choice of simple and familiar images which unobtrusively express the meaning. As I have already suggested, the evocativeness of his diction relies not so much on the originality of the metaphors but on the 163 original and highly effective use he makes of simple comparisons. The metaphoric structure of a given poem, therefore, is closely related to the success of that composition. There are some important sources during Raleigh‘s age which offer interesting insights into the writing of poetry. Puttenham, for example, compared poetry with the rich dresses of ladies of the court who: thinke themselues more amiable in euery mans eye when they be in their richest attire, suppose of silkes or tyssewes & costly embroderies, then when they go in cloth or in any other plaine and simple apparell; euen so cannot our vulgar Poesie shew it selfe either gallant or gorgious, if any lymme be left naked and bare and not clad in his kindly clothes and colours, such as may conuey them somwhat out of sight, that is from the common course of ordinary speach and capacitie of the vulgar iudgement, and yet being artificially handled must needes yeld it much more bewtie and commendation. This ornament we speake of is giuen to it by figures and figuratiue speaches, which be the flowers, as it were, and coulours that a Poet setteth vpon his language of arte, as the embroderer doth his stone and perle or passements of gold vpon the stuffe of a Princely garment, or as th'excellent painter bestoweth the rich Orient coulours vpon his table of pourtraite: so neuerthelesse as if the same coulours in our arte of Poesie . . . . (Hardison 174-175) Thomas Campion, in turn, emphasized loftiness and eloquence: ―Poesy,‖ he said, ―in all kind of speaking is the chiefe beginner and maintayner of 164 eloquence, not only helping the eare with the acquaintance of sweet number, but also raysing the minde to a more high and lofty conceite‖ (31). Thus, Raleigh's single most significant contribution to his poetry is his highly innovative use of metaphor in Scinthia, successfully reinforcing the centrality of the theme of loss. The next stanza (17-20) elaborates on the theme of deathly despair in another set of vivid images. Elizabeth‘s regal power to destroy in the course of time the things that she had once invested with life, the general theme of ―Entreatinge of Sorrow,‖ is cryptically depicted in the first figure: Lost in the mudd of thos hygh flowinge streames Which through more fayrer feilds ther courses bend, Slayne with sealf thoughts, amasde in fearfull dreams, Woes without date, discomforts without end. (17-20) ―Thos hygh flowinge streames‖ (17) which once brought life to him now abandon him in the mud of the river-bed as they bend their way ―through more fayrer fields‖(18). He has been deserted (―lost in the mudd‖) by royal favor (―thos high flowinge streames‖) which is now bestowed on others (18). As a result, he pities himself and experiences a sort of terror (19), and endlessly discomforting woes (20). The relationships of this line to the circumstances of Raleigh‘s life are interconnected. He could be referring to the fast-rising Essex in 1589. Moreover, the picture of the ―I,‖ for instance, buried in the mud of a powerful river that brings death to him alone as it rushes its life-giving waters to others, effectively conveys the speaker's sense of utter destitution sharpened by his jealous awareness of other 165 people's happiness. The next phrase of the stanza, ―slayne with sealf thoughts,‖ (19), with a purposeful ambiguity of statement, accommodates two different meanings. It suggests that the speaker is slain on the one hand by reflections upon his rueful condition and on the other by self-inflicted and even perhaps suicidal thoughts. In the ensuing verses a series of images, by means of direct sensual appeal, constructs the psychological landscape of the speaker's tormented world. In these lines we enter a universe in which everything withers and dies and the solitary figure of the ―I‖ is doomed, as an outcast of life, to live in this blighted land. The trees which give others fruit have only withered leaves for him. The desert holds no comfort large or small: no flowers can grow on the ―brinish sand‖ (24); no joyful birds or murmuring streams offer him company as he sits in the shade of ―healthless trees.‖ In this private hell of the mind, the speaker lives in the sole company of memory, his unrelenting tormentor that intensifies his suffering with recollections of past happiness: From frutfull trees I gather withred leves And glean the broken eares with misers hands, Who sumetyme did injoy the weighty sheves I seeke faire floures amid the brinish sand. (21-24) In this section of Raleigh‘s poem, the trees and flowers represent life and perhaps most of all the ―joys‖ that were the sources and inspiration for his poetry, or perhaps even the very words of it. It seems logical that in addition to writing of his misery, the speaker should be writing about his own poetry 166 in these opening lines. The Queen was at once the source and subject of his poetry (―Oh, hopefull love my object and invention‖ 37), and his disgrace must appear to affect his very statement about his alliance with Elizabeth and the poetry that arose from this alliance only to play contrast with the later alienation. Therefore, the ―withred leves‖ and ―broken eares‖ which symbolize the loss of his career and the torment of his existence, can be seen as the uninspiring fragments of poetry which he has managed to ―glean‖ from his unrewarding experience. That poetry was the result of an invigorating environment which seems permanently lost: All in the shade yeven in the faire soon dayes Under thos healthless trees I sytt alone, Wher joyfull byrdds singe neather lovely layes Nor Phillomen recounts her direfull mone. No feedinge flockes, no sheapherds cumpunye That might renew my dollorus consayte, While happy then, while love and fantasye Confinde my thoughts onn that faire flock to waite; No pleasinge streames fast to the ocean wendinge The messengers sumetymes of my great woe, But all onn yearth as from the colde stormes bendinge Shrinck from my thoughts in high heavens and below. (25-36) In line 25 comes the first of what will be many references to the sun: ―faire soon dayes‖ (25) may be taken as a glancing reference to the grandeur of 167 Elizabeth‘s court which Raleigh has been denied. Also, the ―sheapherds cumpunye‖ evokes the meeting described by Spenser in Colin Clouts Come Home Againe where, by the banks of a pleasing stream, the Shepherd of the Ocean sang his ―lamentable lay‖ to Colin. Sadness in this pastoral world is converted into rich, melodic poetry which enchants and comforts even while expressing ―great woe.‖ In Shelley‘s words, in his To a Skylark, We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. (8690) For Raleigh, the pastoral represents a human condition marked by the consciousness of the flux of time and death. It is set against the silent, dead world in which the persona now lives, the wasteland in which there is neither shared joy nor shared sorrow, but only aching loneliness and the total isolation of the self: ―But all onn yearth as from the colde stormes bendinge/ Shrinck from my thoughts in hygh heavens and below‖ (35-36). The dominant theme is of decay or of fleeting scenes of earthly joy that fade into oblivion. The idea is reminiscent of certain lines, particularly the last ones as well as the opening ones, of Yeats‘ poem The Second Coming, where ―Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;/ Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world‖ (3-4), and amid outstretched sands a monster—a striking image of ruin and decay—is slouching towards Bethlehem to be born again. The opening lines of his Sailing to Byzantium also echo a similar idea where he 168 finds the entire life-generating activity to be doomed to death: ―Whatever is begotten, born, and dies‖ (6). With the world receding as the mind reaches out to make contact with it, the loss of his ―joys‖ in the opening line is the first feature of his complaint. He goes on to expand the complaint by means of images of mutability that seem to underscore his protestations of lowly simplicity. In lines 11-28, he questions what powers he has to write since his love for her has such deep wounds, his fancy is dead, and only the carcass (―Idea‖) of a wasted mind remains to him? He resembles a tree whose blossom has been shed and whose sap is gone. His great desires are reduced to broken monuments. He further questions what passion remains to write under these circumstances. There is no heat in extinguished fires. He is (or the cinders are) lost in the mud left by that stream of Cinthia's graces, which has taken its course to fairer fields (to other favorites). He is slain by thoughts of his own condition and stunned and tortured by frightening dreams. He experiences endless woes and discomforts. In this state, he gathers withered leaves (i.e. tries to write) from once fruitful trees (the resources of his mind), and ―glean[s] the broken eares‖ (22) with the hands of someone afraid to lose a grain of whatever may feed him. He, who once enjoyed a full harvest, now ―seeke[s] faire flowers amidd the brinish sand‖ (24). He is in the shade even when the days are fair and sunny, and he sits alone under plagued trees where neither happy birds nor even the nightingale ―recounts her direfull mone‖ (28). More vibrant profound structures, ―faire floures‖ of expression and feeling seem to cease because the persona's creativity was entirely defined by his attachment to the Queen who has now forsaken him. 169 A series of dramatic caesuras further emphasize the speaker‘s struggle to make sense of his inner confusion: Oh hopefull loue my object, and invention, Oh, trew desire the spurr of my consayte, Oh, worthiest spirrit, my minds impulsion, Oh, eyes transpersant, my affections bayte, Oh, princely forme, my fancies adamande, Deuine consayte, my paynes acceptance, Oh, all in onn, oh heaven on yearth transparant, The seat of ioyes, and loues abundance! Out of the mass of mirakells, my Muse, Gathered thos floures, to her pure sences pleasinge. (37-47) Her support mobilized him: ―the spur of my consayte…my minds impulsion.‖ Without this creative force, the kind of poetry he once wrote (―thos floures, to her pure sences pleasinge‖) is no longer possible. Before he can achieve a degree of relative tranquility, however, the speaker has to move through the harrowing experience of self-scrutiny, frequently interrupted and confounded by an outburst of emotions. A depiction of the impurities which characterized his relationship with her comes early in the narrative progression, although the speaker does not yet recognize them as such. The happiness which he enjoyed with her in the past seems to have been strangely sorrow-laden. Even then, the delights which his muse ―Out of her eyes (the store of ioyes) did chuse‖ (47) were ―counterpois[ed]‖ (48) by sorrow. From this statement of his condition and 170 his literary impotence, Raleigh's speaker turns to a brief reflection on the past. Cinthia's inspiration, and the pastoral world through which it was presumably expressed, are no longer available to the persona. At one point Cinthia's ―mass of mirakells‖ (45) provided the material of Raleigh's muse, who ―gathered those floures, to her pure sences pleasinge‖ (46). Although he suffered, his suffering is that of a desperate lover who could be soothed even by the tiniest drops of joy: Her regall lookes, my rigarus sythes suppressed Small dropes of ioies, sweetned great worlds of woes, One gladsume day a thowsand cares redressed. Whom Loue defends, what fortune overthrowes? When shee did well, what did ther elce amiss. When shee did ill what empires could have pleased No other poure effectinge wo, or bliss. Shee gave, shee tooke, shee wounded, shee appeased. (49-56) The introduction to the poem then concludes with a summary of the power of Cinthia—knowledge of which is central to the effectiveness of the poem as a whole. In these first fifty-six lines, at the technical level, we have examples of most of the poetic techniques Raleigh uses throughout the poem. He protests that he must use simple words, which he generally does, though the overall ―simplicity‖ is deceptive. We find numerous devices of parallelism and repetition; the most outstanding example occurs in lines 37-44, which begin ―Oh hopefull love, my object and invention.‖ (Here the ambiguity of 171 ―invention‖ underlines Raleigh's own inventive wit.) Raleigh‘s images of mutability, decay, and death are established early and reinforce throughout the poem a heavy feeling of loss and despair. The similes and metaphors are not extended, but are frequently vivid and powerful (I seeks faire floures amidd the brinish sand‖ 24). Raleigh uses conventions, most obviously the pastoral in lines 29-32, in order to underline temporality and decay. Here the pastoral images reinforce his sense of desertion and loneliness. Though a passage in the pastoral mode, these lines differ somewhat from the conventional pastoral treatment of the distraught lover in that he no longer finds joy in the nature that surrounds him or in his flocks or companions which suggests a reference to Raleigh‘s exile from not only the Queen, but also from the activity of the court. Although the title of the poem states that the poem is addressed ―to Cinthia,‖ the opening lines address ―yow my ioyes interred‖ (1) who ―died when first my fancy erred‖ (2). It is obvious that the joys are the pleasures of his association with the Queen and that the persona feels that those joys are irretrievably lost. Thus, the opening lines establish the tone of loss which will pervade the poem. We are set up for the rest of the poem by these lines and the mood and themes touched on here will be extended through the remaining 466 lines. Here begins a journey of the soul, as Raleigh's speaker begins to explore his present sorrow, his past bliss, the nature of their interrelationship, and the havocs time has played. This will lead to reflections upon the relationship and what it has become. The introduction has gone from present to past; we shall be weighted with the burden of the past through much of the poem, until it turns back to the present and the persona tries to come to terms with the chilling deathly situation he finds himself in. 172 Although his recollected memories reveal Cinthia to be a self-willed and whimsical individual who offers him nothing but instability in his relationship with her, the speaker at this early stage of the narrative is not primarily concerned with the objective implications of these facts. His main point of emphasis is the strength and fullness of his devotion as evidenced by the many acts of self-sacrifice which he willingly undertook in order to fulfill her wishes. In the midst of his retrospection, a peculiar transition takes place from the past to the present. Through the device of ‗flashforward‘ and ‗flash-backward‘ of the ‗stream of consciousness‘ technique, the persona ponders his plight: Such heat in Ize, such fier in frost remaynde, Such trust in doubt, such comfort in dispaire Much like the gentell Lamm, though lately waynde Playes with the dug though finds no comfort ther. (69-72) The oxymorons effectively underscore the essential ambiguity of the relationship which he has just been describing. The images, however, become more than mere oxymorons because of the presence of the verb ―remaynde.‖ The implication is that a stimulus for heat and one for fire once existed, but now have been removed. Though the stimulus has ceased, the response continues. This disunion is clearer in the last two lines of the passage. The ―gentell Lamm‖ has been weaned, and the stimulus of the milk has ceased. Still, however, the lamb‘s response continues although the stimulus ceases to exist. 173 His thought is interrupted at this point, however, by a series of poignant, double-edged comparisons. What is probably the longest line in the work (31 lines long, to be precise) begins in the past tense and therefore seems to be commenting on the import of the immediately preceding lines. These lines (already quoted in Chapter One, page 15) express the speaker‘s tremendous disappointment at being denied what he had always desired — that is be an admiral of a fleet. His despondency in these lines is quite pronounced as he explains how he is able to write (without present inspiration) and why he must. He is able to write by the force of left-over inspiration. The body is dead but still warm ―as a boddy violently slayne/ retayneath warmth although the spirrit be gonn,‖ (73-74); the sun has disappeared but the earth produces life thanks to the remnants of the sun's warmth: Or as the yearth yeven in cold winter dayes left for a tyme by her life gevinge soonn, douth by the poure remayninge of his rayes produce svme green, though not as it hath dvnn; (77-80) The waterfall has stopped, but the waterwheel still turns by its own momentum (81-84). He apparently must write, because the story he wants to tell is ―so great, so longe, so manefolde‖ (93) that he compares its grandeur to ―the story of all ages past‖ (102) (which he actually attempted to write). The examples of the lamb, the violently slain body, the snow-bound earth and the water wheel (71-84) all variously stress at once the futility and 174 the instinctive quality of an impulse in nature to resist the forces of change that threaten to curtail life‘s activities. The next lines reveal the subject of this long sentence to be his ―forsaken hart and withered mind‖ (85) which are also dispossessed of life‘s forces. The speaker's thoughts thus transport themselves from the past to the present. Before the sentence is completed, he is carried into reflections on his present loneliness in lines which come from an earlier poem, ―Farewell to the Covrt.‖ The central thought is resumed five verses later, only to be suspended in more qualifying phrases. The lines conclude only after another intricate comparison is expressed. Such jerky expression is manifestly reflective of an agitated, anguished and upset mind not much capable of a rational, cool, and linear thinking. The similes of the slain body, the cold earth, and the waterwheel, to which I have already referred, follow with statements of helplessness. The speaker compares his effort to the illusory potency of these elements where he ―writes in the dust as onn that could no more/ whom love, and tyme, and fortune had defaced‖ (91-92). His condition is akin to that of Shelley (in his West Wind) who, comparing himself with the mighty West Wind, declares, ―A heavy weight of hours has chain‘d and bow‘d/One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud‖ (IV, 55-56). In the course of this passage the speaker considers the essential paradox of his situation. In attempting to record the endless sorrows of his life, he is torn between the knowledge of its ultimate futility and the compelling nature of his need for self-expression. For one thing, the task is too laborious for the depleted life energies of his ―forsaken hart and withered mind,‖ (85) and the time remaining to him is too brief. In fact, to attempt to give full expression to his world of sorrows under the present adverse conditions would be as ridiculously ambitious a 175 job as if one were to begin at dusk ―To write the story of all ages past/ And end the same before th' approaching night‖ (102-03). Irrational as it may be, however, the instinct to oppose any agent of death is natural to all elements of life (as the example of the lamb, the slain body, the snow covered earth and the water-mill demonstrate) and cannot be governed by reason. Thus, the speaker is engaged in an arduous task which is rendered still more trying by his awareness of its ultimate purposelessness. A final touch of irony occurs at the end of the line. Already greatly incapacitated ―with many wounds, with deaths cold pangs inebrased‖ (90) his heart writes the history of its sufferings on no more lasting matter than ―in the dust as onn that could no more‖ (91). In the waste-land atmosphere of the poem, words have no more vitality or permanence than the withered trees, broken ears, and dry riverbeds which inhabit his world. For Raleigh, to recognize the reality of cessation of love is difficult, whose burial gown of sorrow and death is woven from seeing Cinthia‘s beams, which for so many years continued to shine, finally declining—even though the persona‘s imagination continues to perpetuate (like the waterwheel and the plant) some life from beams of former love: Such is agayne the labor of my minde Whose shroude by sorrow woven now to end Hath seene that ever shining soonn declynde So many yeares that so could not dissende But that the eyes of my minde helde her becomes In every part transferd by loues swift thought; Farr off or nire, in wakinge or in dreames, Imagination stronge their luster brought. (104-111) 176 As a rush of memories floods the speaker's mind, emotions once again energize the narrative flow. He returns to the subject which preoccupied him before he digressed into an objective assessment of his situation. From line 106 onwards, Cinthia has been equated with the sun; the sun which has set for Raleigh's persona. There was a time when she shone for him, and made him believe that time would never end. Yet he had premonitions of her setting when ―any littell cloude‖ (131) obscured her affections. In biographical terms, she was angry and consequently loath to see Raleigh. She blazed and then set. Adamson and Folland report that after his 1592 disgrace: The Queen would have nothing to do with him. He still held all of his offices, including Captain of the Guard, but was not permitted to exercise them. (216) In this passage therefore, a central sun image (symbolizing Elizabeth) absorbs many facets of the poet's relationship with the Queen. (Allusively, it also maintains a thread of continuity with the preceding lines in which the ―partinge light‖ (101) of sunset represented his declining life.) We learn that even in happier days his sun did not always shine on him with consistency. ―Distance, tyme and crueltye‖ (113) periodically deprived him of her warmth but still ―the eyes of [his] minde helde her beames/ In every part transferd by loues swift thought‖ (108-09). In the course of his continuing recollections, it becomes increasingly clear to the reader that her whimsy (or ―cruelty‖ as the speaker terms it) injected an erratic quality into their relationship. The speaker, however, is as yet oblivious to the general 177 implications of the facts he reviews. He looks on his remembered love affair with nostalgia on the one hand and disbelief on the other that such a love as theirs should come to an end. While he was still in favor, the speaker did not have to be in her presence in order to enjoy the power of that favor bestowed upon him by the Queen: ―such force her angellike appearance had/ to master distance, tyme, or crueltye‖ (112-113). This is significant, because though he may have been gone from her, she still shone on him. Cinthia's effect becomes more closely equated with that of the sun. It is not just the memory of her eyes that sustains him, but the totality of her power: ―My darkest wayes her eyes make clear as day/ What storms so great but Cinthias beames appeased‖ (115-116). These lines recall an earlier, more blissful stage in the persona‘s relationship to the Queen when she symbolized light in darkness; however, her light now no longer sustains the speaker through distance, time, and circumstance. Raleigh is here playing with central conventions. The beauty that conquers or overrides a lady's cruelty and the storms appeased by a glance are certainly Petrarchan. The poem further seeks to contrast the ideal of basking in the Queen's love with the terrible present, and so to some extent plays upon the idealism of the neo-Platonic tradition as well (53-56, 112115, and 344-450). However, there are strong biographical elements as well. It is no secret that Raleigh, as mentioned above had enemies at court. It is probably their ―crueltye‖ that Cinthia mastered; storms they created, she appeased. At the level of the vehicle, Raleigh was not at the mercy of the elements when Cinthia's beauty was available to him, either in her presence or the protective grace of her memory. Cinthia is a figure of tremendous 178 power; the Queen sheltered Raleigh from his enemies. In addition, her own ―cruelty‖ was appeased by the sight or memory of her beauty. His reminiscences are then interrupted by a sudden return of consciousness (in a flash-forward) to the harsh realities of the present which he cryptically sums up in a line recalled from an earlier poem: ―Of all which past the sorrow only stayes,‖ he exclaims. The days of ―Farewell to the Court,‖ when he first uttered these words (with much less justification than they have now), govern his thoughts and we enter one of those passages in which the speaker interprets a significant aspect of their relationship in generally meaningful terms. Thus in lines 120-123 he tells us that ―Twelve yeares intire I wasted in this warr,‖ for he himself in those years, and the years themselves, are indeed all wasted, ―of all which past the sorrow only stayes‖: So wrate I once and my mishapp fortolde my minde still feelinge sorrowful success yeven as before a storme the marbell colde douth by moyste teares tempestius tymes express. (124-127) Inherent in the word ―warre‖ (120), the long ―twelve yeares‖ (120) of courtship is now viewed as a destructive and futile struggle. The reiteration of ―twelve yeares‖ in lines 120 and 121 reinforces the persona‘s personal anguish and bitter reevaluation of the past. The present is therefore engulfed in memories of the past (perhaps specifically in the 1589 disgrace). The persona, believing himself to be strong and invincible, pictured his joys to be as permanent as marble. But like the tears on a marble-tombstone, he 179 anticipated a storm by exuding the ―moyste tears‖ of his previous complaints to the Queen. If the lines ―twelue yeares intire . . . of my most happy younger days‖ which he ―wasted in this war‖ (120-21) are taken, as they are by most readers of the poem, to refer to the period between the date of his introduction to court and his fall from favor, years during which he fought to gain eminence in court, it is important to attempt to determine when Raleigh first began that ―warr.‖ The popular legends which account for Raleigh's first meeting with the Queen are of little use because they either have no basis in fact or carry no indication of date. Fuller's The Worthies of England (1663) is the source for the best known and most often repeated of these legends. Fuller implies that Raleigh's first royal recognition occurred not long after his stay at Oriel College in Oxford, where Raleigh is known to have been in 1568. Coming to court (as already mentioned above) Raleigh wrote ―in a glass window, obvious to the Queen's eye, 'Fain would I climb, yet fear I to fall.' Her Majesty, either espying or being shown it, did underwrite, 'If thy heart fails thee, climb not at all‘ ‖ (133). Fuller then says that Raleigh's ―introduction into the court bare an elder date‖ (133), and tells the well-known (and often retold) story of the cloak and the ―plashy place‖ (133). The intermittent sorrows of earlier days, therefore, now seem minor to him in comparison to his present, unrelieved grief. His previous poetic complaints seem to have foreshadowed his approaching doom: ―Yeven as before a storme the marbell colde/ Douth by moste teares tempestious tymes express‖ (126-27). This image reflects an occurrence in nature: like many other substances, polished marble does, under certain atmospheric 180 conditions, collect condensation on its surface (or it ―sweats‖). Those same atmospheric conditions often produce storms or ―tempestious tymes.‖ He continues to recollect his misery: ―attmiddell day my soonn seemde under land/ when any little cloude did it obscure‖ (130-131). Yet the sun had not set. It was not to be as simple as that. First, as on a winter afternoon, its heat (―unwounted warmth‖) would prove that the speaker‘s joys were not marble but merely icicles (132-135). The sun would melt them and then set, leaving him dissolved, formless, without a mind drowned ―in deapts of misery‖ (142). Then, as the melting snow floods the valleys in the spring time: So did the tyme draw on my more dispaire, Then fludds of sorrow and whole seas of wo The bancks of all my hope did overbeare And drownd my minde in deapts of misery. (139-142) The comparison of his mistress' coldness towards him to the warmth of the sun (which has generally pleasant associations) effectively dramatizes the irresistible power of steadily mounting emotions which finally overwhelm his senses. His condition resembles that of Coleridge‘s Kubla Khan, who standing between the ―sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice‖ (36) is overwhelmed by the excitement of his feelings combined with apprehensions. In Scintha, the ―furious madness‖ (145) of such uncontrollable feelings drowns his reason. When he seeks relief in words the resulting sentiments reveal a self-torturing (scourged) form of poetry: ―wrate what it would and scurgde myne own consayte‖ (146). 181 The outward manifestations of his instability which her whimsical behavior injected into their relationship have already been depicted in his reminiscences of her through the image of the sun, metaphorically melting the speaker and leaving him formless and forsaken. This central problem is now related from a different and complementary angle as the speaker traces in himself the emotional ramifications of her unfair treatment of him. Thus, lines 153-160 are vividly dramatic as he describes the early anguish of his predicament: like a madman struggling with his shackles the speaker found that his struggle only increased his pain. The description of his internal conflict carries remarkably astute psychological insights. His efforts to break the emotional hold of this tormenting love over him proved as futile, he explains, as the struggle of a manacled prisoner for freedom: ―So did my minde in change of passion / From wo to wrath, from wrath returne to wo/ Struglinge in vayne from loves subiection‖ (158-160). The effect of his struggle intensifies both mental and physical anguish, the speaker asserts. To break away from a relationship that by its sudden changes of mood renders life torturous is a natural desire. However, it proves a futile attempt as the persona points out, because the ties of love are stronger than the wish to flee from it. It is almost a Faustian situation in which Dr Faustus is drawn in two opposite directions with equal force, but in which desire always overwhelms reason. From this agony, he has fallen into a more passive despair that resembles death: Therefore all liueless and all healpless bounde my fayntinge spirritts sunck, and hart apalde my ioyes and hopes lay bleedinge on the grovnd that longe since the highest heaven scalde. (161-164) 182 It is worth noting that Raleigh's persona uses the simplest of images to make vivid though difficult-to-comprehend abstractions: the joys and hopes lie bleeding ―on the ground.‖ It is ―on the ground,‖ fallen to the lowest depths of despair, that makes the image so specific and so poignant. From here, he brings us to the reflective period of his torment, when ―the thoughts of passed tymes are like flames of hell‖ (166) which torment him with memories of happiness; memories of ―Those pryme yeares and infancy of love‖ (169) hurt the most. Hence, each futile bid for freedom brought him only a sharpened sense of despair in which the memory of happiness became a source of unbearable pain ―like flames of hell.‖ Thus the persona identifies the frustration underlying their relationship from the start. His self-analytical observations gradually prepare him for the thematically crucial objective assessment of his love articulated in the next passage. Reason tells him, through a study of history, that passions or ―. . . flames that rize/ from formes externall, cann no longer last‖ (175-176). Though he knows that ―seeming bewties‖ (177) hold the essence (versus appearance) of love only while those beauties are in their prime and that they are ―all slaues to age, and vassals vnto tyme‖ (179), even so he could not believe in love's mutability. He desired the timeless beauty of the Queen, and so his ―. . . love outflew the fastest fliinge tyme‖ (182). He admits that reason and history teach us that nothing on earth can escape the effects of mutability. The deterioration of their love, therefore, should not have come to him as a surprise, but in the fullness of his love which defied transience he could not heed the voice of logic. Within the inevitability of change he 183 asserts ―[his] harts desire could not conceve/Whose Loue outflew the fastest fliinge tyme,‖ (181-82). The object of this love, ―A bewty that cann easely deseave/Th' arrest of years, and creepinge age outclyme‖ (183-84) further contributed to the illusionary timelessness of their union. Hence, the termination of their relations remains incomprehensible to him, especially in view of the fact that his love paradoxically withstands the effects of time: ―What stranger minde beleue the meanest part/ What altered sence conceve the weakest wo/ That tare, that rent, that peirsed thy sadd hart‖ (150-52). The ultimate irony of his situation is that her eternal beauty has brought him abiding woe instead of the lasting happiness he had desired. The speaker goes on to express the Queen's immortal beauty through lines that move with rhetorical balance, feminine endings, and haunting rhythms to culminate in the last line, which indicates the persona's ambivalence in his ambiguous use of the word ―pride‖: a springe of bewties which tyme ripeth not tyme that butt workes onn frayle mortallety a sweetness which woes wronges outwipeth not Whom love hath chose for his devinnitye A vestall fier that burnes, but never wasteth that looseth nought by gevinge light to all that endless shines eachwher and endless lasteth blossumes of pride that cann nor vade nor fall. (185-192) The Queen is described through hyperbolic metaphors as an ageless beauty. Through the alliteration of the smooth flowing ―L‖ sound, in line 190, the 184 speaker reinforces the Queen‘s endless supply of ―light.‖ Her power is, therefore, augmented by the notion that her youth and vitality can never be depleted. But yet again, the speaker‘s hurt resurfaces by way of pairing through rhyme these lasting ―perfections‖ with ―infections.‖ The irony is enhanced by the allusion to perfections as tyrants, and both as the effects— not of love—but of highhanded ―emperye,‖ meaning arrogant royalty that takes delight in seeing the hapless victims of their haughtiness squirm in misery: These weare those marvelous perfections, the parents of my sorrow and my envy most deathfull and most violent infections, Thes be the Tirants that in fetters tye their wounded vassalls, yet nor kill nor cure, but glory in their lasting missery that as her beauties would our woes should dure These be th' effects of powerful emperye. (193-200) These lines marked by blood, violence, and suppression, do not offer the usual images in which a shepherd's love for Cinthia would be expressed. Again, the speaker employs alliteration through hard sounding consonants such as in line 196 to emphasize, the absolute control Cinthia has over him: ―Tirants that in fetters tye‖ sharpens the idea of his enslavement and captivity in loving her. Perhaps what appear to be caustic remarks are the deliberate intent of the poet. Suggestions that the Queen's perfections are infections—with the connotation of putrefaction associated with many infections that metaphorically relate to tyrannical rule—would not have 185 helped Raleigh in his quest for reinstatement within a system he understood quite well. Nevertheless, they are part of the poem. They issue from an angry poet with realism and force that a courtier would not have dared to express: ―Thes weare thos marvelous perfections‖ (193) that tied him ―in fetters‖ (196) that cause his present sorrow. It was the allure and charisma of the Queen's beauty that made her vassals devoted to her even in the misery of their enslavement. These were the beauties that meant permanence for her lovers: ―that as her bewties would our woes should dure‖ (199). They are examples of the images themselves revealing the miserable reality of his life; we are seeing the shadows beneath the glow of Elizabeth's court. Adoration of the goddess becomes torment in the light of the waste produced by twelve long years of bitter war: the beautiful, sweet face untouched by time is transformed into the cruel mask of an executioner; love itself turns into a curse bringing misery and death. The instability of the imagery reflects the tumultuous emotions of the persona. Praise and sharp condemnation merge and become indistinguishable: And like as the immortall pour douth seat An element of waters to allay The fiery soonn beames that on yearth do beate And temper by cold night the heat of day, So hath perfection, which begat her minde, Added therto a change of fantasye And left her the affections of her kynde Yet free from evry yevill but crueltye. (205-12) 186 This powerful paradox is generated by the fact that the Queen is both Cinthia and Elizabeth; she is a divine Queen but a fallible woman. ―Yet hath her minde sume markes of humayne race‖ (201). It may be, as Edwards suggests, that Raleigh is working in fits and starts to try to condemn the Queen's actions yet still somehow compliment her; just as rain tempers the sun's power and cold night tempers the heat of day, the Queen is a woman after all, though not in her beauty or her power; rather, she is a woman only in her fluctuant affection, her ―crueltye.‖ This is the common imperfection of women in the Petrarchan tradition—cruelty to the lover. The persona has finally begun to identify the source of all his sorrow in a woman, and it is as a callous woman that he wishes to evoke her memory as he ponders his loss, for the time being at least. The problem that the Queen is viewed as a monarch or a woman (or one in preference to the other) remains a persistent concern throughout the poem. ****** The speaker goes on to describe his present sorrow through a lengthy meditation: ―But leue her prayse, speak thow of nought but wo‖ (213). This expression carries the pain that past joys now give him, the torment of reflecting upon the glory of the Queen, and the inevitable contemplation of the processes of time: ―Write on the tale that Sorrow bydds the tell/ strive to forget‖ (214-15). ―Discribe her now as shee appeares to thee/ not as shee did apeere in dayes fordunn‖ (217-218), for what was once may not come again, and fancy is seldom other than changeable (219-220). Raleigh's persona would not be able to stick to this purpose, but he would at least ostensibly ―strive to forget‖ (215) by concentrating on his present misery 187 and by emphasizing the queen's human faults. If other thoughts intrude, it cannot be helped. It is all part of his struggle to come to terms with mutability, misery, loss and death. In the course of the next passage therefore, (221-295) the speaker attempts to discover the reason for the sudden change in their relationship. He views their separation first as a willful act on her part, instigated by the basic fickleness of a woman's nature, but he eventually comes to view it as natural and inevitable an effect of time as the death of spring flowers in winter. As he alternately examines his own part and hers in the growth and sudden disintegration of their love, his emotions periodically give way to the voice of reason as the speaker articulates observations on different aspects of his experience. In the course of the poem, these objective statements gradually provide a comprehensive interpretation of the moral and emotional implications of their involvement. To begin with, the flood and stream imagery appears first in line 17 and recurring intermittently in varying degrees, in lines 33, 81, and 138-142, resurfaces with the carefully constructed conceit of a woman's love as ―… a streame by stronge hand bounded in / From natures course wher it did svmetyme runn‖ (221-22). His love is like a channel that tries to hold a stream away from its natural course. If there is a small break or loose part in the new channel, the stream, without reason, tears it asunder and escapes uncontrolled to its former channels: ―Douth then all vnawares in svnder teare/ the forsed bounds and raginge, runn att large‖ (225-26). One hour diverts that stream; an instant overthrows those boundaries to which he had given his life and fortune: ―Onn houre deverts, onn instant overthrows‖ (231). Perhaps this one hour or this one instant, which brought about the Queen‘s wrath and his subsequent sorrow, 188 is his secret marriage to Elizabeth Throckmorton. He goes on to lament the many years he has given to win the joys of love when his foolish hope made him surmise that her love was endless; his joys and service are now washed away and all his labors proved no more lasting than small drops of rain on parched ground, resulting in nothing and without any mark of it remaining: So many yeares thos ioyes have deerely bought of which when our fonde hopes do most assure all is dissolvde, our labors cume to nought nor any marke therof ther douth indure. (233-36) There is no longer any sign of ―coolinge moisture‖ (239) to quench the ―parched grounde‖ (238). Lines 169-180 assume that decay at the hands of time was inevitable but immediately move to hint at the speaker's inability to comprehend it— the Queen's beauty appeared permanent to him. But now in imagery that closely parallels that of his first recognition of loss (101-200), he writes of mutability, of age, of the stream's diversion, and of the sun's setting: But as the feildes clothed with leves and floures the bancks of roses smellinge pretious sweet have but ther bewties date, and tymely houres and then defast by winters cold, and sleet, so farr as neather frute nor forme of floure stayes for a wittnes what such branches bare butt as tyme gave, tyme did again devoure 189 and chandge our risinge joy to fallinge care, So of affection which our youth presented when shee that from the soonn reves poure and light did but decline her beames as discontented convertinge sweetest dayes to saddest night. (241-252) In these lines we notice a direct comment on time's tyranny where, for the first time in the poem, the persona asserts the inevitability of his loss. Yet here the Queen is not herself the sun—she is Cinthia, just light reflected, susceptible to changeability. She is like the sun, and can ―decline her beames as discontented / convertinge sweetest dayes to saddest night‖ (25152). He had thought she was the sun itself: as Queen, a symbol of autocratic power, she is; as a woman though she is changeable like the moon. In his first exposition of his fall, he was taken unawares, hence surprised rather than shocked. Now he has accepted the inevitability of change, which introduces an element of bitterness to his tone. Perhaps this is how it is but not, his tone implies, how it should be; the end of her love for him is reflected in the symbolic waste-land scenery complete with naked branches and the parched ground where ―all droops, all dyes, all troden under dust‖ (253). Those pleasurable and contented thoughts, he says (perhaps referring to the poems and other tokens of affection he had given the Queen), are rejected or belittled by her; they ar cast for pray to hatred, and to scorne our deerest treasors and our harts trew joyes 190 the tokens hunge on brest, and kyndly worne ar now elcewhere disposde, or helde for toyes. (261-264) Moreover, all the people she ignored for his sake she now holds dear while all his friends whom she once advanced to please him are now forgotten and held to be unworthy: ―and others for our sakes then valued deere/ the on forgot the rest ar deere beloved/ when all of ours douth strange or vilde apeere‖ (266-68). He proceeds to dwell at length on these painful subjects, extending them through imagery that effectively depicts his hurtful debacle in love. He describes his present condition and the Queen's attitude towards him in explicit terms. In lines 269-274 he notes that the clear streams (perhaps of his joys) in which he saw his own ―bewties‖ reflected, are now ―standinge puddells‖ (269) of stagnant water. What was once ―[his] Ocean seas‖ (273) have become ―tempestius waves/ and all things base that blessed wear of late‖ (273-74). Then ensues an interesting and acute psychological analysis of her strange and sudden forgetfulness of him as he compares the Queen to a plowman eyeing a field lately harvested (i.e., Raleigh), whose stubble offends the eye. The plowman either plows such a field anew or tears up the remains and with ―delight‖ (279) throws them to the fire as useless, and sows new seeds. Similarly, Cinthia uproots all unwanted thoughts ―care[s]‖ (281) that she may have for ―[his] remaining woes‖ (281). His sorrows, which he suffered for her, are burnt up by the fires of her new interests whereby ―The ashes are dispersed into the air/ The sighs, the groans of all [his] past desires‖ (284-85) disappear as if they had never existed: 191 And as a feilde wherein the stubbell stands Of harvest past, the plowmans eye offends, hee tills agayne or teares them vp with hands, and throwes teo fire as foylde and frutless ends and takes delight another seed to sow … so douth the minde root vp all wounted thought and scornes the care of our remayninge woes. (275-280) Like a conscientious farmer, the mind weeds out dead memories and tills the sensibilities for new attachments. In light of this observation about man's instinctive mental and emotional adjustments to change, her recent coldness towards him becomes more comprehensible to the speaker though not less painful. In a burst of emotion, the speaker personifies love as an immoral, irrational, irrevocable, and adamant force which does not befriend old age, but rather laughs at us, scorns us, and turns a deaf ear to our cries: With youth, is deade the hope of loues returne, Who lookes not back to heare our after cryes. Wher hee is not, hee laughts att thos that murne, Whence hee is gonn, hee scornes the minde that dyes, When hee is absent hee beleues no words, When reason speakes hee careless stopps his ears, Whom he hath left hee never grace affords But bathes his wings in our lamentinge teares. Vnlastinge passion, soune outworne consayte 192 Whereon I built, and onn so dureless trust! My minde had wounds, I dare not say desaite, Weare I resolved her promis was not Just. Sorrow was my revendge, and wo my hate; I pourless was to alter my desire. (287-300) Here, the word ―youth‖ could be a direct reference to Essex and any other younger courtier vying for the Queen's attention. If we are inclined to see Raleigh‘s assertion of these undesirable attributes of love as merely conventional, I think we miss the pathos of a man in his position. He was a courtier professing his devotion to his Queen; his constancy was related to the honor of a gentleman. He was the one who did not break his oath to his sovereign. However, there seems to be a discrepancy here related to the persona‘s criticism of the Queen: how can he admonish her for breaking her commitment to him when he has just wed another woman? One explanation is his feeling torn between his devotion and attachment to his sovereign on the one hand, and his love for Bess on the other; the former woman offered him wealth, power, and renown, while the latter nurtured the emotional side of Raleigh—answering his longing to be a husband and father. This is why he is ―pourless . . . to alter [his] desire‖—he cannot choose one over the other because he needs what both women have to offer in order to feel satisfied and complete. Yet the reference in line 296 to his trust in that passion suggests that the persona does blame the Queen for breaking some bond of trust with him. He has to endure the notion that her promise was false, though he cannot accuse her of deceit. Though his position is markedly sorrowful, the Queen is after all a woman and when her love for the speaker died out, it took with it the Queen‘s favor as well. The Queen‘s 193 ―Vnlastinge passion‖ describes Raleigh‘s status in 1592 in such a way that the lines become striking when we compare them to the relationship he had with the Queen after his release from the Tower. Though he still served her, the loss of favor ended all the old love games, and he merely served her as an aide and advisor. The love or ―passion‖ she lavished upon him is violated by the fact that the offending couple was one of her favorite courtiers and one of her ladies-in-waiting. Indeed, he laments how his ―consayte‖ (conceit) is ―outworne‖ by her terminated passion; he seems to realize that no amount of poetry would ever be able to heal or soothe her hurt. Perhaps what is suggested here is that a relationship built upon a shaky foundation cannot be sustained with mere conceits. At this juncture of his continuing search for the ultimate meaning of his experience, she is absolved of willful cruelty, though the central conflict is in no way relieved because he must endure the loss of her love. What the speaker lacks in power, he makes up in faithfulness: the description of his love and faithfulness is contrasted with the Queen's withdrawn affections. While love has abandoned him in his advancing years, his feelings are still intact because, unlike the Queen‘s passion ―[his] love is not of tyme, or bound to date‖ (301). Hence, he remains entrapped in his own painful consistency of attitude. A complete revolution has taken place in the persona's basic attitude. He now considers natural the change of emotions in her, while he deems natural the permanence of his own affections because his love is not bound to time or date. Rather than attribute the disintegration of their relationship to an unnatural degree of cruelty in her as he has done previously, he now admits transience to be the universal rule underlying all human emotions except his: 194 My love is not of tyme, or bound to date My harts internall heat, and livinge fier Would not, or could be quencht, with suddayn shoures. My bound respect was not confinde to dayes My vowed fayth not sett to ended houres. (301-305) His present reflections about love project a basic change of attitude in the speaker. The constancy of his feelings constitutes an exception to this rule of impermanence in love; it seems to exist above the constraints of time. All his avowals of love are feelings he still harbors for the Queen, though the latter‘s passion has withered. What adds to his sense of loss is an utterly unexpected, rather negative, response to his very sincerest feelings in love. Up to this point the persona‘s digressions, musings and emotional outbursts might have appeared randomly articulated. However, his reflections do follow, although not rigidly, a general pattern which imbues the speaker‘s experience with additional psychological validity. In the continuing struggle between his rational appraisals of his predicament and his emotional outbursts, he reaches a level of relative mental peace where he can view himself and his predicament objectively. Especially at such junctures, he articulates for himself broadly relevant definitions of the nature of love, life, sorrow and loss. The general truths which he painfully extracts from his own experience gradually provide him with the moral strength and perspicuity necessary for the final acceptance of his predicament at the conclusion of the poem. 195 It is here that we find the speaker attempting to express himself without openly acknowledging his enemies, without directly targeting the Queen, and without digressing from the tone of hopelessness and introspection that pervades the poem. In lines 306-318, he comes close to answering his contemporary critics. There were other favorites at court then (notably Essex), and he knew they wanted to turn the Queen against him. The consciousness of his relative position and the hostility directed to him at the court are reflected in this section. The speaker's defensiveness about those who might think him deceitful is indicative of attitudes that must have surrounded him. In that context, he maintains that he loves the Queen's virtues even when they do not result in advantages for him: ―I love the bearinge and not bearinge sprayes/ which now to others do ther sweetnes send‖ (306-307). These ―others‖ are the court opportunists who ―[fill] their barns with grain, and towers with treasure‖ (310). It is from this point that he generalizes about true love in a veiled reprimand to the Queen: erringe or never erringe, such is Love as while it lasteth scornes th'accompt of thos seekinge but sealf contentment to improve and hydes if any bee, his inward woes, and will not know while hee knowes his own passion the often and unjust perseverance in deeds of love, and state, and every action from that first day and yeare of their ioyes entrance. (311-318) This passage, like others throughout the poem, seems obscure because the speaker must be extremely cautious not to offend the Queen through explicit 196 reprimands and condemnations. Nevertheless, the speaker tries to assert his genuine love, which he considers has been unjustly returned by the Queen. His loss is expressed in still more specific terms as he refers to his low birth, using it as an explanation for the Queen's rejection of him, and as proof of his devotion to her: it is almost unnatural that I vnblessed, and ill borne creature, That did inebrace the dust, her boddy bearinge, That loved her both, by fancy, and by nature, That drew yeven with the milke in my first suckings Affection from the parents brest that bare mee, Have found her as a stranger so severe Improvinge my mishap in each degree. But love was gonn. So would I my life weare. (319-326) She has always been his Queen. Raleigh's Protestant parents had taught him love for her, and he later taught himself to love her himself—―by fancy, and by nature,‖ as woman and Queen.3 These remarks suggest that his love was the part of his very upbringing, just like the milk that sustained and nurtured him in infancy. The irresistible attraction he felt for her had little to do with conscious choice; he conceived this love ―yeven with the milke in (his) first suckinge/Affection from the parents brest that bare (him)‖ (322-23). As the natural expression of his basic personality, his love for her is immutable; however, her regard for him has proved to be of a more evanescent kind. He embraced only the dust and could not address the less changeable recesses of her being. Hence, her love, being subject to time like the body, decayed, yet 197 his transcendent love is untouched by mutability. In the course of these thematically crucial observations, then, the speaker provides a philosophically consistent explanation of the central paradox in his predicament. (i.e., the permanence of his affections in a world of transience). It is at this point that the speaker wants to relegate Cinthia‘s position to that of a sub-lunary being: now (327-335) she is only a Queen, ―. . . no more Belphebe/ a Lion then, no more a milke white Dove‖ (327-28). He knows now that it is futile to persist in loving her; she will no longer protect him as she does others. As she is no longer Belphoebe, his lines of praise are ―now an idell labor and a tale/ tolde out of tyme that dulls the heerers eares/ a merchandise wherof ther is no sale‖ (357-59) and follows with his observation that ―thy lines ar now a murmuringe to her eares‖ (362). He epitomizes the plight of the true lover: ―but I must bee th' exampell in loves storye‖ (334), and so he must suffer. However, the speaker‘s need to terminate his love for the Queen proves to be impossible as Raleigh's persona continues to come to terms with the present. In his search for reasons, the underlying irony that runs through so much of the poem comes to the forefront. He declares that his soul and mind, which cannot help but love her, are now a burden to him: ―But thow my weery sowle and hevy thought/Made by her love a burden to my beinge‖ (336-337). He wants to eliminate all thought of the past, which is now dead and useless, even the pleasant thoughts. By so doing, he can rid himself of the sorrows brought about through his loss of the Queen‘s love. He swears that his ―error never was for thought/ or ever could proceed from 198 sence of Lovinge‖ (338-340). This is the persona's first direct reference to his ‗mistake‘ which probably refers to Raleigh‘s marriage to Bess. His statement that the ―error‖ could never ―proceed from sence of Lovinge‖ seems to imply that Raleigh is disavowing love for his wife. However, the evidence of their life together belies this acknowledgement.4 Denying his love for his new bride for the Queen‘s sake could be understood in light of what he stood to lose. He had to think of his wife‘s welfare because not only was his life at stake, but the life of Bess as well. In these lines, therefore, he steers clear of openly acknowledging his true feelings, for he understands the repercussions of disclosing the love that first drew him to Bess. By concealing his affections, he hopes to avoid the dangers that may arise from a notoriously jealous Queen. The violent image that follows is a way of saying that it did not essentially matter why the error happened since the penalty is the same: ―I leue th‘excuse syth Iudgment hath bynn geven;/The lymes devided, sundred and a bleedinge/Cannot cumplayne the sentence was vnyevunn‖ (341-343). The lines here are ambiguous: either his ―error‖ has been cruelly punished and he is being ironic in the last line, or he is in such a horrendous state that he is unable to complain. One has no recourse from the monarch's judgment. Even if a case could be brought before the court, the monarch controls the verdict. It is, therefore, pointless to protest. However, for the persona to continue in this sarcastic vein is dangerous since there is a chance that the Queen will read these lines. We need to bear in mind that the poem is addressed by a speaker to the only person who could release him and restore him to grace and favor. Consequently, any hope that the poem will be favorably received would depend on Platonic allusions being considered 199 complimentary; he immediately reverts to the courtier within him and exalts the source of his pain—the Queen: This did that natures wonder, Vertues choyse the only parragonn of tymes begettinge Devin in words angellicall in voyse that springe of joyes, that floure of loves own settinge. (344-347) She is consistently depicted in absolutes; Platonic expressions characterize her as ―Th‘ idea remayninge of thos golden ages,/ that bewtye bravinge heavens, and yearth imbalminge/ which after worthless worlds but play onn stages‖ (348-50). Inspired by such perfection, his love can no more be altered by time than her beauties are: ―To great and stronge for tymes Iawes to devoure‖ (383) his affections match the permanence of her virtues. So he once described her; but still he sighs because his inadequate spirit could find nothing in heaven or earth with which to compare her (351-354). ****** From this point the tone of the poem shifts from frustration, anger, and hyperbolic descriptions of beauty that spanned the first 354 lines to an acceptance of his fate: ―Butt what hath it avaylde thee so to write?‖ (355). He is adjusting to time and change though he finds it hard to abandon neither his perception of the Queen nor his own faithfulness and love. This change begins as he more seriously recognizes that the Queen may not be at all moved by his words. His praises for her are now ―an Idell labor and a tale/ 200 tolde out of tyme that dulls the heerers eares‖ (357-358). After the violence of ―high flowing streams‖ and ―tempestius waves‖ he turns to another water image: ―Thy lines ar now a murmuringe to her eares/ like to a fallinge streame which passinge sloe/ is wount to nurrishe sleap, and quietness‖ (362-364). In a moment of introspection, he blames himself for losing her affection (367), and notes that his ―past deserving‖ is ignored, and his ―offence‖ is all she recognizes. He reminds himself that he once enjoyed the status of a god: ―So her harde hart, so her estranged minde,/In which aboue the heavens, I once reposed,/So to thy error have her eares inclined‖ (36971). He speaks directly but not bitterly. He does not launch here into the imagery of his bleeding limbs, of his chains, but appears realistic enough to state the facts. It is this aspect of realistic acceptance of facts as they are— or resignation to fate—that flows through the rest of the poem. The feeling that emerges in the next section is not reserved or indifferent, but rather conveys the sentiments of a man restraining passions too powerful to be allowed to erupt into imagery. When imagery does enter the statement, it does so in contrast to the simplicity around it, and the effect yields a tone of restraint. He is conveying powerful sentiments about his love; however, there is a simplicity that comes through in the way he expresses these feelings —no longer does the speaker employ images of sighs, tempests, fires, tears, raging rivers, or flames of hell. Instead, he reflects on those distant days where, as her favorite, he metaphorically lived in her ―perrelike breast‖ (395) and ―in silence served, and obayed/ With secret hart, and hidden loyaltye‖ (398-399). The spare statement of 376-428 simply describes what his love is and what it means to him, and the persona makes full use of repetition and line movement to convey his message. As it 201 is both the mind and virtue that are fostering his love, the speaker uses words and phrases that signify the strength and force behind his love: ―a firmer love,‖ ―cannot be forgotten,‖ ―to great and strong,‖ ―lasting,‖ ―cannot dye,‖ ―shall ever last,‖ and ―never can untie.‖ Moreover, the enjambed lines create a sense of breathlessness as the speaker substantiates the power of his love. Through reason and with simplicity, the speaker expresses the truth that gives him so much pain: The minde and vertue never have begotten A firmer love, since love on yearth had poure, A love obscurde, but cannot be forgotten, To great and stronge for tymes Jawes to devoure; (380-383) A lastinge gratfullness, for thos cumforts past Of which the cordiall sweetnes cannot dye. Thes thoughts knitt up by fayth shall ever last, Thes, tyme assayes, butt never can untie; (388-391) Which never words or witts mallicious Which never honors bayte, or worlds fame Atchyved by attemptes adventerus Or ought beneath the soonn, or heavens frame. (405-08) Indeed, it is the hyperbolic images of the mistress that elevate her to the stature of a Platonic ideal. Indeed, contemplation is at the heart of Ficino‘s Platonic theory (Kristellar 43); and contemplation can take place in the mind alone. Hence, the speaker‘s identification of Cinthia in his ―minde‖ (380): 202 Renaissance thinkers developed [Platonism] into a theory that physical beauty was an outward expression of the inward grace and spiritual beauty of the soul . . . . The platonic lover therefore paid devotion and adoration to a physical beauty of his mistress only in so far as that beauty reflected her soul. From earthly and physical desire he aspired to the contemplation of the beatific vision. (Cuddon 716-17) In accordance with the above, the speaker surveys the entire spectrum of his experiences in love to prove rhetorically the durability and depth of his affections. As the events of his life demonstrate, no degree of adversity ―can so desolve, dissever, or distroye/ the essentiall love, of no frayle parts cumpovnded,/ though of the same now buried bee the joy‖ (409-411). In the sorrow-laden present all that remains to him of his past bliss is the wakeful company of memories which ―Worke a relapps of passion, and remayne / of my sadd harte the sorrow suckinge bees‖ (414-15). It is against this simplicity of language that the image of line 415 is set. These fond memories are turned into metaphorical bees that cull his heart. This simple image evokes a wealth of meaning because bees are associated with sweetness (honey) and light (wax). Yet, the irony here is that these memories offer little sweetness and light, because the speaker lives in bitterness of gloom. Through this steady simplicity, the persona reaches his first major insight about his love: great feelings may be contained in the familiarity of common ideas, expressed in conventional forms that generalize universal 203 feelings. He begins by distinguishing his own affections from ―external fancy.‖ The latter, being inspired by surface beauty, is ―cured‖ by time as its object ages. Such love is pleasure oriented and therefore transient by nature. However, the persona's love is beyond the realm of time. It forms the very essence of his life (422-435). This insight gives him a vision of his love's importance to his life, a vision that sends him to contemplate it in a series of images, and then attempt to understand it. His own attachment to her, he asserts, is as indispensable a part of his existence as ―the moisture in each plant that grows‖ (430). The speaker's love is internalized in much the same way as moisture is to a plant, as the sun is to frozen ground, as sweetness is to the rose, as the center is to the circle, as water is to fish, as air is to men, as heat is to fire, and as light is to the sun. The persona explains the metaphysical or highly abstract logic behind this claim of how his love is internalized: Oh love it is but vayne to say thow weare, ages, and tymes, cannot thy poure outrun Thow art the sowle of that unhappy minde which beinge by nature made an Idell thought begon yeven then to take Immortall kynde when first her vertues in thy spirrights wrought. (436-441) In other words, the conception of his love for her effected a fundamental change in his character. Love here is the personification of the speaker's remaining affection. It is the soul of the persona's unhappy mind which, though by nature is meaningless (―idell‖ 439) began to take on elements of immortality when first immortal virtues began working on his spirit. No 204 matter what may threaten love or raise Cynthia's suspicions, love is permanently entrenched in the speaker's mind: ―. . . in my minde so is her love inclosede‖ (426). Inspired by her virtues, his mind outgrew insignificant, idle thoughts and gradually acquired the rare ability for constancy. This love, which has been the basis of a mental and spiritual awakening in him, has become an inextricable part of his total sensibilities. It is in fact the reason for his existence: ―from thee therfore that mover cannot move / because it is becume thy cause of beinge‖ (442-43) he concludes. In the light of this metaphysical analysis, his protestations of permanent devotion to Elizabeth assume greater significance. His attachment to her is revealed to be the function of a complex emotional phenomenon which imbues his professed constancy and grief with greater psychological credibility. Hence his love for the Queen has infused his life with a spark of immortality which has become the essence of the speaker's mind. As he struggles with the indomitable emotions evoked by her memory, the Platonic permanence of his love comes to occupy an increasingly prominent place in his consciousness. It remains the one unalterable aspect of his otherwise mutable life; it cannot be moved: What ever error may obscure that love What ever frayle effect of mortall livinge, What ever passion from distempered hart What absence, tyme, or injuries effect, What faythless frinds, or deipe dissembled art Present, to feede her most unkynde suspect. (444-449) 205 Without knowing the precise circumstances of Raleigh's relationship with Elizabeth, we know that in some way the persona has been the cause of his own fall, that some error or offense has ―excused‖ Cynthia of further obligation. Yet as we read it through eyes familiar with the biography, the speaker is not totally at fault. False friends have fed the flames of Cynthia's anger with false and malicious reports, and Cynthia herself has magnified the offense out of proportion: ―What faythless frinds, or deepe dissembled art/ present, to feede her most vnkynde suspect‖ (448-49). Here we are getting to that point where the poem does get so autobiographical and personal that any criticism on purely artistic grounds falls short in elucidating the lines‘ implicit meanings. It seems that the egoistic desire of a Cecil or Essex to be cruel and wield power in a relationship shows how many of these courtiers resort to lying, deception, plotting, and manipulation to have their way. This kind of behavior can be seen both within the relationship and in the courtiers' general way of dealing with the rest of the world. Yet disregarding a few such details, the images of the poem do cohere and create an aura of loss and hopelessness so convincing and effective. Even without biographical background, one knows that only from high places can a fall be great, and that the persona, because of some unnamed error, has lost all. However, the poem itself goes deeper. Apart from the action or narrative implications, there is a suggestion that protestations of love, of earthly greatness, of trust, even of hope are in vain, that man is the tool and fool of time and fortune. This is the unavoidable fact of human mortality; all that is left for him is to ―inebrace the dust‖ (320), because though he remains steadfast in his love for her, others are constantly undermining this love. 206 In the course of his continuous personal questionings, the insights which he has gradually gathered into the significant aspects of his experience thus culminate in a most comprehensive and relevant definition of his love. Before another crucial thematic realization is reached through the course of the narrative, the speaker emphatically reiterates the impossibility of altering or properly articulating the fullness of his emotions. Using a complex scientific image (450–454), he compares the conception of his love to the violent geological changes which precede an earthquake. Much like the vacuums which are formed beneath the surface of the earth by excessive heat, an emotional void possessed his heart previously. Love flowed into his heart, therefore, as freely as does air into a vacuum. Once trapped, the air begins to heat up and expand, inevitably causing an earthquake. Being denied a meaningful outlet, his love too turns destructive, and devastates his existence like a violent earthquake ―tearing all asvnder‖ (454). Not only is he helpless to halt or change the course of his selfdestructive affections, but he also finds it equally impossible to relieve his pain through words. This idea is expressed by the next image in which Cupid‘s love dart assumes a somewhat sinister quality. The speaker relates how in the ―center of (his) cloven hart‖ (455) now rusts away ―mixt with his hart bludd‖ (460) the poisoned arrow of love ―which till all breake and all desolve to dust / Thence drawne it cannot bee, or therein knowne‖ (458-59). The expressed admission of its futility brings to an end his current attempt to verbalize the emotional realities of his debilitating experience. He then returns to the more practical task of objectively evaluating the basic facts of their relationship. The tone of resignation which the speaker assumes at this point is not 207 interrupted again by any emotional outbreak. Instead, he questions the point of writing about his loss: ―Butt what of thos, or thes, or what of aught/ of that which was, or that which is . . .‖ (462-63). In the following lines, he alludes to what might have reasonably been an accusation made against him by the many who resented his rise to power and welcomed his fall. According to his detractors, the persona's love was not sincere, and his praises were but exploitative. The poetic understatement which concludes his soliloquy allusively conveys his otherwise incommunicable grief. He now articulates his final, broadly relevant analysis of their troubled relationship and arrives at the realization that his present fate was destined from the start by the imperfections of that relationship: what I possess is butt the same I sought my love was falce, my labors weare desayte nor less then such the ar esteemde to bee, a fraude bought att the prize of many woes a guile, whereof the profitts vnto mee – Could it be thought premeditate for thos? (464-69) Thus, the speaker finally apprehends the termination of their relation not as a sudden and inexplicable turn of events, but as the predictable outcome of its essential weaknesses in terms of her falling prey to the ―witts mallicious.‖ Although he has finally come to terms with the general implications of his experience, ambiguity clouds the meaning of these thematically important lines. The problem is compounded by the obscure references of the pronouns in his query. One could argue that these verses relate the poet‘s admission of his own falsehood and deceit in love. The general progression 208 of the poem, however, does not support such an interpretation, which undermines the main purport of the poem. If the subject of the line is understood to be his love relationship and not his emotions, the lines then present a significant realization which constitutes the turning point in the unfolding drama of the persona's inner loss-bound struggle. He has previously considered the essential flaw in their relationship, which is, on the one hand, his inability to detach himself from her and, on the other her complete indifference to this attachment; ―Shee sleaps thy death‖ (490). So, not only has she abandoned him with her indifference, but she is the reason behind his suffering. On each occasion where he tries to relinquish his love for Cinthia, objectivity is quickly overwhelmed by his emotional reactions. Keeping feelings at bay, he now utilizes the same facts of his affair as aids to understanding and arrives at the conclusion that his enemies viewed his plight as ―premeditate‖ or predetermined by the essential ―falseness‖ of their imperfect relationship. Yet his anguish should tell her otherwise; she ought to look at suffering and hence perceive that both his love and sorrow are real. He then comes closest to a direct appeal: wittness thos withered leves left on the tree the sorrow worren face, the pensive minde, the xternall shews what may th'internall bee cold care hath bitten both the root, and vinde. (470-473) He finds in the image of a bare tree the illustration of the universal principle that ―the externall shews what may th‘ internall bee‖ (472). As the withered 209 leaves of the tree are the visible symptom of an inner ailment, the surface difficulties which characterized their relationship from the beginning attests to the existence of a vital imperfection in its basic substance. As outward appearance often reflects inner self, the external problems in their relationship, namely his enemies, signaled the presence of a basic flaw in their love. It is at this point, after having scanned the wasteland of his spirit, that his thoughts are drawn first to the object of his devotion and then to his past relationship with her. In the course of this retrospection, he acquires significant new insights into the ambiguities inherent even from the beginning in her relationship with him. An improved understanding of its basic flaws later enables him to articulate a generally relevant assessment of his experience. This realization brings about the most crucial part in the poem. What has seemed so devastatingly inexplicable to the speaker, the sudden disintegration of an attachment based on true and mutual devotion, becomes comprehensible with the acknowledgment of its initial imperfections, namely, her cruelty, her forsaking him by declining her beams, not reciprocating his love, and prohibiting him from ―seek[ing] new worlds‖ (61). While his recognition of the significant truth about his relationship with Elizabeth does not alleviate suffering, it does seem to prepare him emotionally for the final acceptance of his predicament; that is, making peace with his irretrievable losses. Like his love, his pain is permanent, and he must endure it. He must give up his effort for a patch up because ―complaynts cure not, and teares do but allay/greifs for a tyme, which after more abovnde‖ (476-77). She has given him a taste of immortality in love, and his own constancy has lodged it in his heart; time changes her, but his unchanging love must nonetheless 210 suffer the pains of the alteration that ensues: to seeke for moysture in th'arabien sande is butt a losse of labor, and of rest the lincks which tyme did break of harty bands words cannot knytt, or waylings make a new, seeke not the soonn in clovdes, when it is sett. (478-482) A tone of quiet resignation informs his above remarks. We catch one last fleeting glimpse of the poem‘s symbolic location in the image of the arid ―Arabian sande‖ (478). Moreover, ―words [that] cannot knytt‖ abound with irony, for it is through the weaving of his words that he creates such poignant and moving expressions. However, as his ―wailings‖ prove futile he can no longer hope that the sun is merely obscured by a cloud; it has set. He has accepted the ultimate as a fact not to be wished away. In some of the poem‘s most lyrical lines, the speaker then relates his abandonment by his Queen through the figures of the classical lovers Hero and Leander5: ―On Sestus shore, Leanders late resorte,/ Hero hath left no lampe to Guyde her love,‖ (487-88).6 He consequently warns himself through two lines that not only summarize the light and water imagery that has run through the poem, but also summarize the contrast between past and present: ―Thow lookest for light in vayne, and stormes arise/ Shee sleaps thy death that erst thy danger syth-ed‖ (489-490). Like Leander on that stormy night when he most needed light, the speaker here accepts that there will be no light. Moreover, Cinthia who sighed for him when he was in danger and prohibited him from embarking on dangerous sea voyages is now oblivious of his metaphorical dying. Even nature seems to conspire against him: the tall Cedar trees which 211 ―weare the markes to finde [his] hoped port / into a soyle farr of them sealves remove‖ (485-86), purposefully deny him guidance. The ensuing series of exclamations heighten the psychological frenzy of his love for her as they cryptically summarize the changing realities of his personal world: Shee is gonn, Shee is lost, shee is found, shee is ever faire, Sorrow drawes weakly, wher love drawes not too woes cries, sound nothinge, butt only in loves eare Do then by Diinge, what life cannot doo . . . (493-496) The dramatic tension infused throughout the poem is heightened through his death-wish. Throughout the poem the speaker's ―life‖ is inextricably tied to his Muse, the Queen. However, when he is separated from the Queen, he feels spiritually dead. The speaker is someone who has experienced such a loss that he is in some sense ―dead.‖ Having lost her love, there is no other recourse left for him but to death: ―Do then by Diinge, what life cannot doo . . .‖(496). As he is essentially speaking to dead walls, for ―woes cries, sound nothinge, butt only in loves eare‖ (495), the speaker in Scinthia is a literal and metaphorical prisoner whose only bid for freedom is through death. The futility of the persona's situation is that he cannot simply throw aside his immutable love for the Queen and wander without purpose in the world of change. All he knows is to be consistent in his ill-returned love to her and so he yearns for death when his faithfulness is torn apart from its object. 212 His perplexity about how the past could invade his agonizing present, how his faithfulness could be so ineffectual in preserving Cinthia's love, are preoccupations that so thoroughly overwhelm him that they recur almost to the end of the poem. Both the joys of the past and the glories of Cinthia envelop him. Despite the speaker's desire to speak only of the present, to ―leve her prayse‖ (213), he is now deeply entrenched in thoughts of her. The speaker asks how he could have been so mistreated by her. He believes that these are the ways of love throughout time, but not his love. His love is beyond time, and for this reason he is trapped by his own love for her and faithfulness to her; he is a prisoner of his self-image. He cannot live without her. This misery is death. Yet she is deathless, and his love for her is deathless. What can he do? This is a universal Petrarchan predicament where the mistress becomes the symbol of the idea of highest perfection and ultimate beauty and truth. Thus, in Petrarchan fashion, the speaker‘s love and devotion is unchanging and unflagging. Moreover, what gives this relationship its force is the emotionally charged context, for the Queen is God's anointed and his immortal representative. Elizabeth has not merely rejected a lover but, as Queen, she has severed a man from his very source of sustenance. The persona has lost his access to his only means of serving eternity in time, that is, he has lost the right to serve Elizabeth. Although this is an enigmatic passage (493-96), I think it becomes clearer if we focus on the poem as a statement about loss. Scinthia is not merely a petition, nor a love poem, but it is also a statement about permanence versus evanescence pictured in loss, which Raleigh's relationship with the Queen has come to represent, even embody. In this passage we are presented with the essence of the persona's insight into 213 permanence and loss and the metaphorical death that ensues: Although the Queen is gone and he loses her, she is found within his love for her, and ever fair both within him and in her divine majesty. She therefore exists in eternal beauty even though his sorrows do not affect her because she no longer loves him. Cries of woe make no impact except on the ears of one who loves the crier. He must do then by dying what he cannot and could not do by clinging on to life. That is, his suffering may only end when he dies. Through death, the persona will gain freedom from danger, punishment, censure, guilt, blame, dependency, and the power or rule of another being. She is life, and if she cannot, or will not, end his suffering, he must die on his own. The loss and ensuing agony that drive him to this horrible conclusion must be of immensely unbearable magnitude. ****** The final image of the poem provides a particularly moving visual account of his abiding grief and loneliness. The alliteration of the "d" sound indicating dejection, despair, desolateness leading to death, reinforces the notion of his having relinquished all hope for personal fulfillment, and, like Sisyphus, he is forced to continue his life with the full knowledge of its ultimate futility: Thus home I draw, and deaths longe night drawes onn. Yet every foot, olde thoughts turne back myne eyes, Constraynt mee guides as old age drawes a stonn, Agaynst the hill, which over wayghty Iyes For feebell armes, or wasted strength to move. (509 – 513) 214 These lines of anguish give way to a devotion that elevates his love beyond the reach of time and fortune: ―My minds affection, and my sowles sole love,/ [is] not mixte with fancyes chafe or fortunes dross‖ (515-16). This can seem so excessive that we must not lose sight of the conventions under which he writes nor of the poem as a whole. Raleigh applies the pastoral convention not to illustrate an image of quiet peace and harmony among shepherds but in part to help effect a contrast between past and present and also as the proper form for what his persona perceives to be an uninspiring life. In the opening pastoral images of the poem, the speaker ponders his loss through metaphor of fallen blossoms, withered and healthless trees, joyless birds, and flocks that are not feeding. By the end of poem, those flocks are freed ―to feed on hylls, or dales, wher likes them best‖ (498) (116, 29-32, 497-508). Moreover, the speaker's sense of the betrayal of time leads him to use some of the logic from that poetic tradition which renounces earthly and fleeting pleasures (173-180,295-296, 517-520). The development of the poem—sometimes erratic, sometimes sustained—leads to this point, though not through logical progression. Rather, the persona keeps circling from past to present, from praise to despair, until he has fully understood what water and sun now mean to him. He is drowned in the storm, and the sun has set. It now remains for him to relinquish false hope (504) and to abandon his writing (505-508). The poem moves to a close with the conventions of the pastoral. The man who loved a Queen fades into the dusk of anonymous shepherds: ―Thus home I draw, as death longe night drawes onn‖ (509). He must keep looking back even as he fades from the world. As in other poems, Raleigh's persona casts the final hope to God, to whom he assigns his love: 215 to God I leue it, who first gave it me, and I her gave, and she returnd agayne, as it was herrs, so lett his mercies bee, of my last cumforts, the esentiall meane. But be it soo, or not, th'effects, ar past, her love hath end; my woe must ever last. (517-522) Having analyzed both the objective and the emotional implications of his predicament from every possible angle, in the concluding stanza he sums up the stark facts of this traumatic experience simply as ―Her love hath end; my woe must ever last‖ (522). By the end of the poem, then, the speaker has attained not only an improved understanding of this painful predicament but also an acceptance of it; resignation-to-fate sort of attitude. Behind his apparently disjointed poetic articulations a definite, although loose pattern of narrative development may now be distinguished in retrospect. For one thing, his emotions, overwhelming and somewhat self-serving at the beginning, gradually become more illuminating as they are brought under objective scrutiny by the speaker. What initially seemed like stubborn persistence in him and willful cruelty in her, for instance, soon assume larger meaning when the one is defined as Platonically based loyalty and the other is related to the essential mutability and volatility of all human feelings. In other words, the persona‘s personal plight, at first apprehended in primarily subjective terms, is universalized later and achieves representative significance. The poem, circling back and forth in the stream-of-consciousness-like 216 manner, has reached its conclusion. The sorrow for his loss is inevitable, yet this sorrow is expressed in a tense struggle ranging between praise and sadness. For the ―dying‖ speaker to praise his lady in the midst of his sorrow demands the erratic quality we find in the poem. The persona‘s delicate and precarious position gives rise to the syntactic obscurity which so characterizes Scinthia. Though his praise for the Queen is undercut by his pain, he is trying to convince the Queen that his love is such that it cannot be altered by ―tymes Iawes‖ (383). His soul knows that what hurts her was not intended as an offense, or even thought to be offensive. His mistake in no way implies any compromise on his total and unquestionable devotion to her. Love, he maintains, should remain constant and unaffected by errors and that love should give in to no external, antagonistic or mischievous influences that attempt to destroy it for their own profit; she should refuse to heed those who in any way would suggest undermining his loyalty to her. The paradoxes of love and hate, and desire and renunciation, float through a poem whose central purpose remains, I believe, the attempt to see hope in hopelessness, life in death, a silver lining about a dark cloud or, more broadly, eternity in fleetingness. The poem is ultimately about the misery brought on by the loss of a love that was the source of all life. It is a realization of the fact that the speaker can never achieve permanence in the world of time, even with a vision of ideal form before him and inspiring him. That form is for him still embodied in the transient world. The Queen may have been God's divine, immutable anointed, ―Th' Idea remayninge of thos golden ages‖ (348), yet she is still a woman in the world, ―Yet hath her minde svme markes of humayne race‖ (202). Although the speaker's disillusionment results in his 217 desire for death, he drives himself to attempt a full comprehension of his loss. Such an attempt shows a spark of continuing hope implicit in the poem, so that the speaker never fully abandons his submerged quest for permanence. With the loss of Cinthia‘s love, the general fact of mutability assumes an excruciating personal reality for the persona. What most devastates him, however, are the constant and obdurate pangs of his love for her, which seems to contradict the supposed inevitability of change in the course of time. This paradox then, rather than the mere fact of mutability, constitutes the crux of the poem‘s central conflict. As the poem progresses, each digression marks an attempt to solve this critical thematic problem. Paradox, and antithesis—constant love/ inconstant love; external love/internal love; faire fields/withered trees, scorching heat/rain; desert sand/icicles and snow; and parched ground/overflowing streams—are some of the regular features of the poetic diction. They incorporate the speaker‘s psychological preoccupation with an essentially unanswerable question: how can love last in an un-lasting world? Raleigh seems to answer this complex question by immersing most of his statements in images that may imply rebirth. Inherent in the images of Scinthia is optimism of a sort; that is, in Shelley‘s words, ―if Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?‖ (V, 70). Admittedly, the implications for rebirth in Scinthia are inextricably interwoven within the fabric of the poem. There is a suggestion of hope rising—phoenix like—from the ashes of despair. There is also an emphasis on the individual‘s journey through life, charting the murky waters of self‘s tribulations and triumphs. With the generalized loss of possibilities he suffers under monarchical domineering and the suffering that ensues, the 218 persona paradoxically turns his loss into gain by turning his verse into a monument to loss; his narration of loss becomes a strategy of not only his empowerment and recuperation, but a powerful testimony to his love and devotion for Queen Elizabeth. The full significance of what has been discussed thus far yields itself to my exploration of loss in relation to Raleigh‘s poetry. By isolating and exploring the profound effect that loss has on the formation of Raleigh‘s poetry, we can bring into sharper relief the basic strengths of that poetry as well as its essence namely, responses to feelings and thoughts stirred up by particular occasions of disfavor, neglect, exile, imprisonment, and execution. He is something of an occasional poet, writing poems that derive from his intensely felt experiences that vividly evoke genuine life-situations. As I have demonstrated, Raleigh‘s images arise from situations of high emotional tension to illustrate relationships between concepts and ideas that weigh heavily on his mind. Moreover, the images receive sustenance from the intensity and complexity of the given experience or emotion. In the next chapter, therefore, psychoanalytic theory will be employed to explore and work out the full significance of Raleigh‘s experiences and emotions through his sense of loss, his poetic treatment of that loss, and his ultimate attitude to that loss. 219 Notes, Chapter IV 1 It is not known whether Queen Elizabeth ever saw The Ocean to Cynthia, or whether the sorrow that Raleigh expresses there was a factor in her decision to free him from the tower. But if she read Spenser‘s The Faerie Queene she must have recognized another extended story of her relationship with Raleigh continued allegorically through several books of Spenser‘s epic in the ongoing story of Arthur‘s squire, Timias, whom Spenser had created to represent Raleigh in Book 3 (published in 1590) and to whom he returned to in Books 4 and 5 (published in 1596). In Book 3 Timias falls in love with Belphoebe, one of several representations of the queen in Spenser‘s poem; but in the later section the story goes on to relate the turbulence of 1592. In Book IV, Canto vii, Timias‘s betrayal of the trust of Belphoebe by succumbing to the attractions of Amoret refers specifically to the Throckmorton marriage. A reconciliation begins in the following canto, as Spenser evidently hoped it would in real life; and the epic poet may be seen as taking Raleigh‘s part, although he does acknowledge the wrong done through human frailty. In Book 6 Raleigh and his wife may be found again in the episodes with Timias and Serena (Serena is a name used by Raleigh in one of his lyric poems). 2 Colin Clout's Come Home Again is an interesting fragment of literary history: a piece of insight that describes the meeting of two literary figures and, through its pastoral conceits, gives us some understanding of their preoccupations at a specific moment of time. Raleigh, apparently, made no secret of his disenchantment with life at the court of Queen 220 Elizabeth: His song was all a lamentable lay Of great unkindness and of usage hard, Of Cynthia, the Lady of the Sea, Which from her presence faultless him debarred, And ever and anon, with singulfs rife, He cried out, to make his undersong, ‗Ah, my love‘s queen and goddess of my life! Who shall me pity, when thou dost me wrong?‘ (164-171) 3 Elkin C. Wilson in England's Eliza (New York, 1966) discusses at length the particular qualities associated with each of the dozen or so poetic names given to various conventional images with which contemporary poets represented Elizabeth. 4 See Beer‘s, My Just Desire: The Life of Bess Ralegh, Wife to Sir Walter. The author gives a moving account of the secret love between Raleigh and Bess. 5 For insights into mythical backgrounds see Edith Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales of gods and Heroes, (1964). 6 See Christopher Marlowe‘s ―Hero and Leander.‖ 221 Chapter V Raleigh: From Loss to Final Peace ―Strive then no more, bow down thy weery eyes” (Scinthia 491) 222 The expression of sorrow and grief already noticed thus far, is a recurring theme in Raleigh's poetry. The image of the speaker that we have been able to derive from the preceding chapters is of a person torn between his position as a courtier on the one hand, and his status, on the other hand, as a poet drawing upon personal, painful, and at times nostalgic memories. After immersing himself in court life, Raleigh witnessed how the seemingly happy world of Elizabeth's court presented a deceptive picture. As his speaker complains love, as embodied in the Court of Elizabeth, ―forgets promyse[s] paste,/ He is blynd, he is deaff when he lyste/ And in faythe neuer faste‖ (―As yov came from the holy land‖ 31-33). In Scinthia ―vassals‖ are ―wounded‖ (197) and held ―in contempt‖ (68). By way of fear and frustration, he turned to poetry that was more thoughtful and far less frivolous than anything he had previously written. As his perspectives changed so did his verse. As George Puttenham asserts: ―...it is a peece of ioy to be able to lament with ease, and freely to poure forth a mans inward sorrowes and the greefs wherewith his minde is surcharged‖ (qtd. in Hardison 172). This statement, which implies that the one who has suffered can feel and think deeply, has been made by many as far back as Homer: ―For he who much has suffer'd much will know‖ (qtd. in De Jong 128). If, as Puttenham says, grief and sorrow yield a richer form of poetry, and if, as Homer and others have affirmed, one can only think deeply when one has suffered much, then Raleigh's poetry qualifies on both levels. In the majority of his poems, Raleigh's persona probes into his ―fludds of sorrow and whole seas of wo‖ (Scinthia 140). The concept of loss in Raleigh‘s poetry is challenging because it 223 entails not only emotional problems but intellectual and psychological ones as well.1 The poetry Raleigh writes reveals the shattering effects of losing what is loved and held dear. Raleigh wrestles with the anguish of longing for the retrieval of things lost; knowing fully well in all likelihood that it amounted to hoping against hope. The world he encounters was shaped by his losses; he suffered from a broken heart, a homesick soul, stifled ambition, loss of favour, the death of his Queen, the deaths of his two beloved sons, and thirteen years in The Tower. The resulting anguish, unlike physical pain that comes with injury or illness, resonated deeply within Raleigh and engendered some of his profoundest fears finding their due expression in his verse. Puttenham goes on to link laments for death, war, and disappointments in love, and psychologists agree in regarding mourning as a reaction to loss in general, not just loss through death. In ―Mourning and Melancholia‖ (1917), Sigmund Freud postulates that ―Mourning is regularly the reaction to the loss of a loved person, or to the loss of some abstraction which has taken the place of one, such as father-land, liberty, an ideal, and so on. As an effect of the same influences, melancholia instead of a state of grief develops in some people, whom we consequently suspect of a morbid pathological disposition‖ (164). The language of love-lament to express sorrow over loss is thus entirely appropriate, since Raleigh‘s grief stems from the rupture of his relationship with the Queen. His verse is marked by a series of oscillations between, on the one hand, periods of love, gratification, and contentment, and, on the other, periods of sorrow and frustration caused by the Queen's withdrawal of her love, and ensuing separation from her—all of which rendering his descent into anger and 224 despair all the more dramatic. Raleigh transformed his troubled personal relationship with the Queen into a poetic consideration of love, time, and mortality. His verse, therefore, represents his most memorable artistic achievement, as well as the most direct expressions of his personal sensibilities, which lend voice to his suffering. As Raleigh writes of disappointment and defeat, there is an emphasis on the divided and tormented self. The loss of love forms a major component in his verse of agonizingly negative experiences of life. In Scinthia, the speaker unequivocally states that ―[he] hated life . . .‖ (165). In psychological terms, Raleigh‘s emotional dependence on Queen Elizabeth places him in a precarious and fragile relationship, one that by its very nature was unlikely to offer any encouraging or enduring support. At the outset of Scinthia, it is evident that Cinthia‘s landscape is blighted and that nature is in a cycle of dissolution: blossoms have fallen, the sap is gone, the leaves are withered, ears of corn are broken, and the sand is salty and sterile. The twentieth-century psychologist William McDougall remarked, in An Outline of Psychology, that ―the wise psychologist will regard literature as a vast storehouse of information about human experience, and will not neglect to draw from it what he can‖ (186). As students of literature, we too must not neglect to draw upon psychology what we can, since the insights it lends into human nature enables us to appraise the worth of human experience as it occurs in the world of literature. Therefore, with regard to the theory of attachment, the British psychologist, Alexander F. Shand, describes it in terms of the ―systems of the sentiments‖ with love involving the greater system. Love, therefore, organizes and directs the lesser systems of joy, anger, fear, and sorrow which in turn fulfill the function of the greater 225 system. For instance, Shand says that if the object of love is present, the lesser system for joy is activated; if there is interference with this, anger results, and if there is physical separation, sorrow results. So, for Raleigh, the essential experience of being cast out from the court involved not only a feeling of losing a safe haven or source of emotional security and joy, but a feeling of losing a prestigious role which engendered uncertainty, fear, and sorrow. The receiving motif of the early period of happiness is the one most clearly reversed when love is withheld or the loved one dies, for love was the most important thing desired by the speaker simply because it brought with it pleasure and security for the persona; but the vital component of love is now absent. This cessation of love and attention from the Queen is most often expressed through his persona's painful sense of absence from the court and of isolation in general, and through frequent instances of silence between the speaker and his loved one: in ―My boddy in the walls captived,‖ the speaker ―. . . alone/ Speake[s] to dead walls, butt thos heare not [his] mone‖ (13-14); in Scinthia his ―woes cries, sound nothinge . . .‖ (495); and in ―Conjectural First Draft . . .‖ the speaker laments, ―Cold walles to you I speake . . .‖ (37). This sense of isolation and lack of communication contrast with the earlier, relatively happy period of close physical association and ready accessibility of direct communication. It should not be surprising that any individual loss may recall the experience of a previous one and thus have a cumulative effect on the griever‘s emotions. In ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ Raleigh's persona, through his bleak view of life with its promise only of pain, voices his wish for death. Consequently he reveals a sort of weariness with life‘s trials and a concern born of the loss of his social roles. The speaker's grief encompasses 226 the range of a courtier‘s complex sense of identity. His sense of self seems to be inextricable from his role as a courtier. After his disgrace, Raleigh‘s effort to remain a courtier and then his failure to do so results in suffering. In despair, the speaker flees from a relationship marked more by frustration now than satisfaction, and more by alienation than harmonious togetherness. However, the place he escapes to seems dreary and devoid of value or interest and seems to promise an equally dreary future. Similarly, the persona in ―My boddy in the walls captived‖ engages in a dynamic process of recollection and re-evaluation of his past and present experiences in captivity that highlights the inherent pathos of his terrible isolation. His deepest-loss is that of a part of his inner self leaving him no longer able to find its idealized reflection in his role as a courtier. Raleigh is a poet of moods and particularly of dark, brooding moods. As melancholy was a fashionable Renaissance mood, it is representative of the current vogue. In The Elizabethan Malady, Lawrence Babb explains that had it not been fortified by ancient authorities such as Aristotle: . . . the melancholic attitude would never have won the popularity which it enjoyed during the Renaissance. No man would have cared to confess himself melancholy if that had been to confess himself blockish and silly. But Aristotle lent melancholia a philosophic and artistic glamour, and many men were more than willing to declare themselves affected. Thus the vogue of melancholy arose in Italy and in England. This vogue left a permanent record in Elizabethan and early Stuart literature. (66-67) 227 Throughout his book, therefore, Babb maintains how ―unlike most fads, [melancholy] did not flourish briefly and die. It established itself so firmly in English thought and literature during the late Renaissance period that it persisted for generations‖ (185). However, to consider Raleigh‘s sadness mere fashion would be sheer injustice to him. His sadness emerged from within the core of his poetic self and enveloped his entire being in such a manner that it became almost impossible to see his person and his poetic persona as two different entities. He suffered not so much physically as emotionally. Thus melancholy raised fears: fear of personal inadequacy, as found in unrequited-love lyrics; fear of appearing inadequate before God, and the final fear, of mortality––a fear made far more terrible as human-centered knowledge challenged traditional assumptions. Its prevalence made melancholy—humor, temperament, and the disease with its plethora of causes, symptoms, remedies and repercussions––abundant material for various writers. It almost goes without saying that Raleigh's speaker demonstrates melancholic features—dejection, lack of interest in the world, listlessness and indifference, inability to love, and the inhibition of activity—for the loss of love and attention is always a major event in his life. It hits with such force that he is plunged into depression and, especially at first, has little energy for any outside activity or new interests. In the ―Epitaph upon Sir Philip Sidney Knight,‖ we sense a melancholy that stems not so much from sorrow at Sidney's youthful promise cut off in its prime, as from Raleigh's awareness that, now in his mid-thirties, he himself could never compete with the fresh vigour of Essex: ―Thy rising day saw never 228 woful night,/ But past with praise, from of this worldly stage‖ (35-36). Raleigh's persona seems almost envious that Sidney‘s death though untimely, has saved him from the inevitable ravages of ―. . .shame and tedious age,/ Griefe, sorrow, sicknes and base fortunes might‖ (33-34) and has, in that sense, enabled him to leave a lasting legacy to the universe, which mourns him for all his finest traits, accomplishments, and fame: ―Thy liberall hart imbalmd in gratefull teares/Yoong sighes, sweete sighes, sage sighes, bewaile thy fall‖ (53-54). Sidney, then, becomes a figure of enlarged significance by his identification with the abstract qualities of honor and virtue (36-40). Sidney has moved and disarmed even his foes: ―Malice hir selfe, a mouring garment weares‖ (56). The force of these lines emanates from personal melancholy, not from the mourning of Sidney. This turning against the self is a major feature that Freud calls melancholia. Since the speaker's feelings and actions resemble melancholia in other ways as well, it is useful to compare the way the speakers deal with loss to the concept of melancholia, to see to what extent the personae's process what of repetition and retrospective interpretation of their loss experience follows the path of melancholia. In his essay ―Mourning and Melancholia,‖ Freud compares and contrasts melancholia to mourning, the healthier and more common response to loss. He first notes the features these two mental states share: in addition to having the same ―exciting cause‖ (the loss of a cherished object), both mental states involve experiencing ―a profoundly painful dejection, abrogation of all interest in the outside world, loss of the capacity to love, [and] inhibition of all activity‖ (165). In mourning, the dejection and lack of activity, for example, are caused by the grieving individual‘s preoccupation with the difficult and 229 painful mental process of gradually withdrawing the libido that was attached to the now lost loved one. Once the libidinal ties are severed, the ego will be free to direct the libido toward a new loved object and the mourning process will be over. In melancholia, Freud believes, there is also a withdrawal of libido from the lost loved object, which again results in a general dejection, but this withdrawal does not lead to recovery or a freeing of the ego from its attachment to the lost loved one. Instead, in melancholia the individual turns against him or herself, or in other words he or she becomes ‗masochistic‘ to the extent of being suicidal. This self-destructive behavior leads Freud to surmise that individuals who suffer from melancholia must have a ―morbid pathological disposition,‖ (―Mourning‖ 164) including a tendency for the choice of the loved object to be ―effected on a narcissistic basis,‖ (―Mourning‖ 170) a strong fixation on the loved one, and ambivalent feelings toward the loved one. In other words, the melancholic person has chosen a loved one in the hope of satisfying narcissistic needs, and, even though this loved one is viewed with hate as well as love, the melancholiac is bound to the loved one by a strong and unyielding attachment. One can also see that many of the speakers have two of the predisposing traits of melancholia—a narcissistic object-choice and a fixation on the loved one— when one remembers how the speakers' early period was dominated by egoism2 and strong attachment. Egoistic needs that are usually satisfied in the early time of happiness are much the same as the narcissistic needs that are behind Freud's concept of a narcissistic object-choice. It is significant here that Raleigh chose one with a higher social standing and a more privileged position. Alliance with persons of higher status such as the Queen caters to what Freud calls an egoistic/ narcissistic need for selfesteem. 230 According to Freud, ―the occasions giving rise to melancholia for the most part extend beyond the clear case of a loss by death, and include all those situations of being wounded, hurt, neglected, out of favour, or disappointed, which can import conflicting feelings of love and hate into the relationship or reinforce an already existing ambivalence‖ (―Mourning‖ 172). Ambivalence and melancholia frequently arise in people whose selfimages are made up largely of the images of important individuals in their lives. These are people dependent on their relationships with others for their own self-esteem, though unconsciously detesting this. Such was Raleigh‘s relationship with Queen Elizabeth. His attachment to her was very strong, but he may have harbored resentment as well for being so dependent. His conflict over these dual feelings might have made it difficult for him to sever his emotional and psychological ties with the Queen who in Scinthia held him with ―gentell chaynes of love‖ (330); earlier in the same poem, the persona is ―bound in stronge chaynes‖ (154). In The Worthies of England, Fuller writes: It is reported of the women in the Balearic Islands, that to make their sons expert archers, they will not, when children, give them their breakfast before they had hit the mark. Such the dealing of the queen with this knight, making him to earn his honour, and by pain and peril, to purchase what places of credit or profit were bestowed upon him. (133) 231 Although Elizabeth I was the source of Raleigh‘s prosperity, she was also the source of much of his pain because of his ambivalent relationship with her. Freud suggests that everyone experiences distressing grief symptoms following a loss, but people who have felt ambivalence toward the lost relationship and are dependent on others for their self-image are likely to have protracted, complicated grief responses, as Raleigh‘s persona laments in Ocean to Scinthia, ―When shee did ill what empires could haue pleased‖ (54). Raleigh‘s discovery of Guiana did not impress the Queen: she ignored him and showed no visible interest in his otherwise important discovery. Indeed, Raleigh went through several cycles of the Queen‘s apparent pleasure and displeasure with him. With her fluctuating moods, it was not surprising that his favourite poetic image for Elizabeth was Diana or Cynthia. In essence, she was like the moon, cold and shining, beautiful at night, but constantly changing throughout the month. Moreover, his devotion to the Queen was all the more strained by his love for another woman; that love was to have the most devastating impact on every aspect of his life, for the Queen‘s favorite became another woman‘s husband. It is accurate to associate Raleigh‘s persona with melancholia because his works express the same kind of ambivalent attitudes as the melancholic individual feels towards his or her self and toward the loved one. In melancholia, ambivalence toward the loved one is a necessary condition—it either exists already before loss occurs or it is created by loss. The ambivalence toward the self comes when the individual identifies with the lost loved one in the onset of melancholia. The self then internalizes the harsh self-reproaches that should have been directed to the loved one and yet 232 the self is still acting egoistically because the identification is a means (though neurotic) of continuing the desired love relationship. Raleigh's verse shows similar ambivalent attitudes on various levels: he sometimes expresses support for the needs and desires of his persona for expression, assertion, and fulfillment; at other times he expresses the need to renounce or deny the speaker‘s desires; sometimes he lashes out at others; while at other times he reveals angry or aggressive feelings toward the lost loved one. When Elizabeth withdraws her love, a self-destructive phase of life ensues for Raleigh‘s speaker. Because of her importance, the effects of the loss of her love and attention are disproportionately large. Not only is the world suddenly a very different place, but Raleigh‘s persona begins to behave differently and to perceive himself in significantly changed ways. These changes involve a point by point reversal of the qualities found in the earlier period of happiness. Instead of receiving love, admiration, and attention, he faces insuperable physical separation, irresolvable disagreements and a total lack of communication. The world no longer appears like spring or summer, but rather feels cold, bleak, and meaningless: ―I onely waile the wrong of deaths delaies,/ whose sweete spring spent, whose sommer well nie don‖ (―Farwell to the Covrt‖ 10-11). There seems to be a direct correlation between the intensity of the speaker's love and the intensity of the pain from the loss of that love. The persona, who loves passionately, is often devastated by loss, because one with a more shallow love would seem relatively unaffected by the end of a relationship. As John Archer notes, ―it is clear that, in general terms, people only grieve strongly for close relationships, those they have built up over a period of time or which have for other reasons assumed importance for them‖ (166). 233 Raleigh's reactions to his loss of love follow the patterns of compulsive repetition and melancholia as these traits are described by Freud. Compulsive repetition appears in his tendency to at first repress the experience of loss, only to return repeatedly to it in an attempt to cope with it. His behavior after loss resembles melancholia in that he reverses his earlier tendency to grow, expand, and act unrestrainedly. When a loss of something held dear occurs, an individual with melancholic tendencies, because of fixation on the loved object, would look for whatever way to avoid giving up the love relationship. Moreover, because of the narcissistic object-choice, he will transfer the libido, not to a new object as in mourning, but back to the ego, the place and earlier investment of libidinal energy. In such a transfer, the libido effects an identification of the ego with the loved object, an identification which in a sense allows the love relationship to continue. As Freud puts it, ―by taking flight into the ego love escapes annihilation‖ (―Mourning‖ 178). Accordingly, the following lines that deal with the impotence of the persona‘s power to overcome the metaphoric chains of love reveal his fixation on the Queen, and his subsequent urge to prevent relinquishing the love relationship. His rationale for perpetuating the relationship is that the more he struggles in his metaphoric chains, the more pain he feels: And as a man distract with trebll might bound in stronge chaynes douth strive, and rage in vayne, till tyrde and breathless, he is forsd to rest fyndes by contention but increas of payne and fiery heat inflamde in swollen breast, 234 So did my minde in change of passion from wo to wrath, from wrath returne to wo, struglinge in vayne from love's subiection. (Scinthia l53-160) The psychological anguish of moving from wrath to woe and back again certainly takes its toll on the speaker, who continues with images of suffering to speak of being ―lifeless and all healpless bounde‖ (161), of his hopes lying ―bleedinge on the grovnd‖ (162). This identification of the ego with the lost loved object then works together with the ambivalence in the love relationship to create what Freud considers melancholia's ―most outstanding feature…by perceiving that the self-reproaches are reproaches against a loved object which have been shifted on to the [persona‘s] own ego‖ (―Mourning‖ 169). Unlike ―when the work of mourning is completed the ego becomes free and uninhibited again‖ (―Mourning‖ 166), in melancholia the conscience or superego reproaches the ego—delivers reproaches that are really meant for the loved object, but because of the identification of it with the ego are received by the ego: ―the loss is one in himself‖ (―Mourning‖ 168). Therefore, Freud describes how in melancholia: . . . the relation to the object is no simple one; it is complicated by the conflict of ambivalence. This latter is either constitutional, i.e. it is an element of every loverelation formed by this particular ego, or else it proceeds from precisely those experiences that involved a threat of losing the object . . . . In melancholia, that is, countless single conflicts in which love and hate wrestle together 235 are fought for the object; the one seeks to detach the libido from the object, the other to uphold this libidoposition against assault. (177) These reproaches can be extremely harsh and can lead to a ―delusional expectation of punishment‖ and even suicide (―Mourning‖ 165) —in this case the persona feels extreme emotional pain which he relates to the inability to take revenge and hate. His only possible resolution is sorrow and woe: ―Sorrow was my revendge, and wo my hate‖ (299). When the persona experiences this loss of love, his world in general undergoes drastic changes. What once seemed a pleasurable and secure paradise in ―the highest heaven‖ (Scinthia 164) is now substituted for a bleak and oppressive environment. Through his verse, Raleigh expresses this reversal in a variety of ways. In some poems, such as ―My boddy in the walls captived,‖ the persona may be placed in a dreary setting, with Raleigh's speaker sometimes and sometimes not, explicitly pointing out the parallel between the setting and the persona's inner state. In other compositions, like ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ the speaker's life may be compared through metaphor or simile to an unpleasant or even hostile environment. The speaker may be said to perceive his environment as unpleasant and hostile in other poems, such as ―The Lie.‖ No matter what method Raleigh employs, what is actually important to note is the close connection between his persona's experience of loss and the imagery and settings employed in his poetry that contrast markedly with timeless perfection, grace, and heavenly beauty in poems such as ―Praisd be Dianas Faire and Harmles Light‖ and ―Those Eies which set My Fancie On A Fire.‖ 236 This complete reversal of the qualities of the speaker's environment reflects the radical change that has come to his life through the loss of Elizabeth's interest in him. Not surprisingly, he initially resists accepting this change, and only gradually and often involuntarily comes to face his loss more directly. This pattern is much like what Freud describes as compulsive repetition, a type of behavior he observed in trauma victims. In ―Beyond the Pleasure Principle,‖ Freud explains how he was at first puzzled by the tendency of trauma victims to repeat their painful experience (for example, by dreaming of it) since this repetition involved an increase in mental tension and therefore contradicted the pleasure principle. Freud solves this apparent contradiction by arguing that the repetition by trauma victims is an example of a mental process that makes the pleasure principle possible. Trauma represents a breach in the mental apparatus, an influx of uncontrolled, painful energy, which must be dealt with before the pleasure principle can regulate the mind's activity. Compulsive repetition is the means for dealing with or controlling the painful excitation, thus effecting what Freud calls a ―binding‖ of the mental energy (―Beyond the Pleasure Principle‖ 64). The features of compulsive repetition are especially relevant to an analysis of Raleigh's persona (whose cumulative losses are certainly painful enough to qualify as traumatic) because compulsive repetition involves an alternation between repression and repetition. The traumatic event is so painful that the experience of it is at first repressed. Then, in order to ―bind‖ the trauma, the experience is repeated. Yet since this repetition also repeats the pain, repression occurs again, and so on until the process sufficiently 237 controls the trauma. Raleigh's speaker demonstrates this alternation in the way he initially responds to loss with confusion, self-deception, denial, or even unconsciousness, and then, later, returns at intervals to the loss experience. For example, in Ocean to Scinthia he compares his own purposeless efforts to find contentment in happy memories to the predicament of a newly weaned lamb who ―Playes with the dug though finds no cumfort ther‖ (72). In light of this comparison, his futile regressive attempts are revealed to be not simply irrational behavior but more instinctive to his situation. Later in the same poem, he again comments on the senselessness of his persistent wish to revoke the past by reminding himself that ―to seeke for moysture in th' arabien sande/ is butt a losse of labor, and of rest‖ (478-79). The comparison helps underscore at once the urgency of the speaker's desire to relive the past and the impossibility of its fulfillment. Like extreme thirst, which compels the desert-trapped, in spite of his better judgment, to search in vain for water, the speaker's overpowering sentiments drive him to admittedly irrational behavior, which becomes even more irrational in the case of experiencing the sight of water shimmering where there is none. Arid and invincible, the central desert image properly represents the dominant qualities of the speaker's emotional predicament. Likewise, in ―Farewell to the Covrt,‖ the speaker‘s reflections upon his present sense of social and emotional isolation are sharpened by the compulsive repetitions of recollections of his past ―dandled daies‖ (2) in court. The persona expresses the pain underlying this traumatic personal experience brought upon by the Queen. Memories of happier times act as a foil, which through contrast heighten his present sense of suffering. The 238 event is so traumatic that the experience of it is repressed through his need to flee the situation. However, in order to ―bind‖ the trauma, the persona repeats the tormenting experience when he compares his present situation to the happier days he has known in the service of the Queen whose court he is now leaving. Slowly, a logical unity emerges in the poem from among the seemingly disjointed figures of speech which the speaker deploys in his attempt to express the nature of his suffering. The intensity of his emotions, while searching for some answer to his predicament, at the same time denies recourse to such superficial resolutions: he asserts that happiness is as ephemeral as ―truthles dreames‖ (1), that ―past returne are all [his] dandled daies‖ (2) and his ―loue misled, and fancie quite retired‖ (3). Then an allegorical figure of a ship emerges in the next two lines in which the speaker mournfully states, ―My lost delights now cleane from sigth of land,/Have left me all alone in unknowne waies‖ (5-6). The phrases ―past returne‖ and ―misled‖ of the first stanza are now provided with a concrete, visual poetic reference in the emergent image of a stray ship. The central figure by which the speaker compares his predicament to that of a shipwreck‘s effectively conveys his sense of loss, isolation and above all helplessness. And like a shipwreck which is tossed upon the shores of a foreign land, he too feels utterly estranged and lonely in his unaccustomed role as a neglected and forgotten courtier: ―As in a countery strange without companion,/I onely wail the wrong of deaths delaies‖ (9-10), he explains. Prematurely aged by his despair, the speaker awaits death as his only means of liberation from this metaphoric land of sorrow. We see that the pain of alienation has weakened his resolve to live. The close relationship between 239 despair and death is evident. Robert Burton, for example, describes despair as ―the murderer of the soul . . . a fearful passion, wherein the party oppressed thinks he can get no ease but by death, and is fully resolved to offer violence unto himself . . .‖ (937). Thus, the broad implications of the persona‘s figurative statements create a dramatic scene which has psychological bearings on the theme. The persona's strong attachment to the Queen resembles a fixation because of its enduring quality, and because he finds it very difficult to transfer his affections to another, in this case another country. Somehow misled by love, the speaker dismally left in ―fortunes hand‖ (7), steers clear of land, joys, and delights of former days as the vessel advances on a wrong course out to sea. The cold shores of the strange country on which he finds himself represents, of course, his final exile from the court of Elizabeth. The speaker‘s disturbing sense of loss, dislocation and hopelessness is effectively presented in the concluding image of the lonely shipwreck. The persona, equally unable to return home or to adapt to his new surroundings, closes ―Farewell to the Covrt‖ on a bleak note. His pessimistic concluding remarks, therefore, signify absolute despondency, which may not be remedied by false optimism. As I have already noted, Raleigh often gives in to these melancholic reflections even in poems whose generally cheerful subject and tone do not warrant such pessimism. Manifest in many of his compositions is this propensity to brood. In them, for instance, the persona's general sense of discontent is effectively defined and heightened in terms of some specific, personally disappointing event; his expressions of sorrow possess a degree 240 of emotional intensity and formal consistency. In his verse, ideas, images, cadence are all organically unified to convey degrees of sorrow. Moreover, these lyrics are never burdened by a pre-formulated argument. Rather, they are the product of the speaker's probing reflections into some particularly disturbing personal episode which unearth a generally relevant core of meaning behind the chaotic impressions of a wretched experience. Perhaps more than any other single element, it is the interweaving of two polar narrative tones –– the cheerful and the sad, as in ―Nature that washt her hands in milke‖ –– in his works which marks Raleigh's personal style. In a given passage, the tone often changes abruptly from the private to the universal, creating a blend of solemnity and emotionalism in the compositions. An emotional involvement in life is evident in his metaphoric articulations which essentially draw upon the personal realities of the speaker's private world. In readily understood visual images then, Raleigh discovers powerful symbols to represent the basic emotional realities of human experience. In Ocean to Scinthia, for instance, the changing scenes of nature do not merely provide an esthetically appropriate background for the persona's poetic experience, they also constitute an integral part of the articulated thoughts and emotions. The speaker's personal suffering assumes representative significance as it is paralleled in the narrative argument by natural symbols of decay and death, which establish the universality of suffering on all levels of life. At one point in the poem, the speaker finds in a field of flowers a lesson of life; the state of flowers reminding him that the loss of his youth and happiness is but an inescapable part of life's general plan: 241 But as the feildes clothed with leues and floures The bancks of roses smellinge pretious sweet Haue but ther bewties date, and tymely houres, And then defast by winter cold and sleet. (241-244) The creation and destruction of perfect beauty illustrate that death is the common end of us all. There is no life without loss and therefore no life without grief. Similarly, there is no life without vulnerability and therefore no life without fear. Simply put, all things that live must die because everything in nature has a lifespan in which to bloom and fade; in Tennyson‘s words, in The Passing of Arthur, ―the old order changeth, yielding place to new‖ (408). The brevity of life is not something we choose but something that is thrust upon us, and the speaker finds this basic fact of life repeated in the delicate and short-lived beauty of each flower. The speaker's nature imagery emphasizes how all living things are in constant struggle against time. These images serve the speaker on a multiple of levels. While Raleigh's effort was first to invoke the Queen's pity and charity, he desperately needed to solace himself. Thus, the expression of grief for loss, generalized by the pastoral elegy, expresses not only the persona‘s grief but the common grief of many at that time. The speaker recognizes that death, while tragic, is redeemed in part by its necessary role as part of the larger life cycle that governs all living things. These images, therefore, not only give poetic expression to the transience of the speaker's world but, by implicitly relating his subjective experiences to governing laws of nature, they also emphasize the universal significance of the speaker‘s personal plight against such forces as Monarchs, Time, and Fortune which are beyond his control; his personal tragedy becomes evident. 242 The governing image of time, therefore, plays a prominent role here because it assumes an almost personal quality. The speaker‘s overwhelming feelings of loss, pain, and sorrow are revealed through those images of death and decay. The persona‘s images portray a vivid account of one man's psychological struggle with the forces causing despair. Through imagery that provides stark and seemingly timeless settings of deserts, dark nights, raging rivers, cold storms, and withered leaves, the thoughts and emotions articulated against this background lend a kind of universality and timelessness of their own. In addition, his nature imagery is largely composed of primordial symbols of what Carl Jung calls, the ―collective unconscious,‖ (Hopcke 14) and possesses notable psychological validity and appeal: ―Jung believes that there exists a collective unconscious, in which great constellations of primordial images and of ancestral patterns of experience are for ever preserved. The poet who responds to the promptings of this collective unconscious is able to tap deep emotional sources . . .‖ (Press 181). In the lines previously discussed from Ocean to Scinthia (47879), for instance, we are made aware of the speaker's utmost despair in the image of the desert-trapped man who, with full knowledge of its futility, searches for water in the burning sand. His delirious search for water in the one case and for comfort in the other signifies the same psychic experience. Or, again, when the persona compares the chaos from the fear that will result from his overwhelming emotions to the river whose powerful torrents gush out and destroy the dam that was necessary to contain it (221-225), he not only has defined a common human experience (a sense of helplessness to control the flow of strong emotions) but has done so through an image which 243 has long been identified with torrential feelings in man's mind (we are reminded of the term ―flow of emotions‖ among many others). In Anatomy of Criticism, Northrop Frye explains that: Water . . . traditionally belongs to a realm of existence below human life, the state of chaos or dissolution which follows ordinary death or the reduction to the inorganic. Hence the soul frequently crosses water or sinks into it at death. (146) Frye is not alone in suggesting that certain images possess an unchanging validity and significance capable of awakening emotional responses in men and women generation after generation: Freud's theories point to the existence of myths and of symbols which illuminate the universal structure of the human psyche. His emphasis is upon the individual rather than upon the collective unconscious, but, like Jung, Freud postulates the existence of certain recurring themes heavily charged with emotional significance. It is the basic psychological appeal, therefore, of most of Raleigh's images which imbue some of his poems and particularly Ocean to Scinthia with emotional immediacy and significance. A large part of Raleigh's imagery comes from nature; these images demonstrate Raleigh‘s ability to link external scenery to interior states of mind. Such nature images help underscore psychological issues. His use of nature images is based on two basic principles of his personal conception of life. First, he finds symbolic equivalents of certain fundamental patterns of human life reflected in the various elements and cyclical changes of nature. 244 Some of these nature images are so regularly related to particular types of human experience that one interpretation may be that they represent archetypal symbols for the persona. Frye explains it thus: . . . an archetype [is] a symbol which connects one poem with another and thereby helps to unify and integrate our literary experience . . . . The repetition of certain common images of physical nature like the sea or the forest in a large number of poems cannot in it self be called even ―coincidence,‖ which is the name we give to a piece of design when we cannot find a use for it. But it does indicate a certain unity in the nature that poetry imitates, and in the communicating activity of which poetry forms part. Because of the larger communicative context of education, it is possible for a story about the sea to be archetypal, to make a profound imaginative impact, on a reader who has never been out of Saskatchewan. (99) Thus, in ―A Poesie To Prove Affection Is Not Love,‖ for instance, images of decay and death are evoked through seasonal similes: ―For as the seedes in spring time sowne,/ Die in the ground ere they be growne‖ (7-8); ―As fruit once ripe, then falls to ground‖ (26). Moreover, in The Booke of the Ocean to Scinthia a barren tree is synonymous with old age. Raleigh's persona conveys his present sense of futility by means of a visual symbol of a winter-ridden barren tree: ―The blossoms fallen, the sapp gon from the tree‖ (13). 245 It seems that blossoms, fruit, and leaves, representing productivity and a sense of fulfillment or youthful well-being, are subverted to suit the brooding mood the speaker wishes to evoke. Obviously, Raleigh's frequent use of plant images has a logical explanation: as the simplest form of life, vegetative organisms embody the clearest expression of life's basic pattern, which also governs the apparently complex experiences of human existence. Trees and flowers provide him with poetic symbols that can effectively represent at once the vulnerability of life and the dramatic changes that take place in the course of it. These images call to the speaker‘s mind the inevitability of their decline; Raleigh's vision of life defines all things in terms of their struggle against the ravages of time. These images resurface throughout the poems in the speaker‘s various descriptions of himself as an aging man: ―Oh cruell Time which takes in trust/ our youth, our Joyes and all we haue,/and payes us but with age and dust,‖ (―A Poem of Sir Walter Rawleighs‖ 31-33). For him, there is no welcoming of death as a rest or a release; dying is a living experience, and he struggles against the fear that afterwards there is nothing but annihilation and disintegration. As Raleigh's persona perceives a strong affinity between man and nature, the plight of man in general and of the narrator in particular often attains expressions in figures taken from nature. The particular terms of the sun-earth relationship provides ―The end of the bookes, of the Oceans love to Scinthia, and the beginninge of the 22 Boock, entreatinge of Sorrow‖ with its central metaphor. The poem is a moving soliloquy very much like Scinthia in tone and poetic technique. In the poem, the sun‘s life-giving powers represent Elizabeth, while the speaker, subject to and dependent 246 upon the will of his mistress and Queen, is much like the earth. The speaker employs this seemingly commonplace figure to explore the complexities of his personal relationship with the Queen and to define the essential irony of his predicament. Their relationship creates an emotionally tense situation, for it is made up of a sensitive, dependent individual and a less sensitive, independent one. The internal dynamics of the relationship are such that again and again the independent member inflicts a painful loss on the other more dependent one. Her cruelty plunges him into despair, making him feel ―only woe‖ (19). Raleigh‘s persona considers with characteristic gloom his recent loss of royal favor. The first nine lines follow the same tone as Scinthia: an affirmation of anguish by one who has been mistreated: ―The grief remayninge of the ioy it had,‖ (6). He relates how memories of the ―dayes delights [and] springtyme ioics‖ (1) which he enjoyed ―in the dawne and risinge soonn of youth‖ (2) return to sharpen his sense of loss ―in the yeveninge and the winter sadd‖ (4) of his life. Then, mid-way in the poem, a central metaphor is established comparing the Queen to the sun as the paradoxical source of growth and decay; reminding us of Coleridge‘s Kubla Khan standing bewildered between ―a sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!‖ (36) in the audience of ―ancestral voices prophesying war‖ (30) from afar. The dominant image of the poem, comparing Elizabeth to the sun which shines on all alike, ascribes to her an endless power of vitality and the ability to give life or death to all those she touches. While we would assume that the sun is a poetic symbol of majesty, it is used here unconventionally because it attributes to the Queen a sinister quality too. She is shown to be like the sun not only in her imperial supremacy, but also in her indifference 247 to the individual lives which she vitally affects. Like all things warmed by the sun, such as ripened fruit, which eventually decays under its rays, all men favored by Elizabeth flourish and then die; it is a natural, inevitable process. In perfect detachment she ―. . . sees the birth, and buriall of all elce,/ And holds that poure, with which shee first begvnn‖ (11-12). That is, she is apart from the human scene because she indiscriminately imparts sorrow and death to those who once derived life and joy from her influence. By the use of the sun imagery, Raleigh expresses Elizabeth's indifference to her subjects, and he does so without passing moral judgment on her acts. Just as moral judgment is irrelevant to the benefits and harms conferred by the sun, so too it is inappropriate to discuss Elizabeth in such terms. The pathos of human life is effectively underscored in an image that depicts individual suffering and decay as a necessary sacrifice to the preservation of the cycle of life. Confident of her limitless regenerative powers, she leaves ―each withered boddy to be torne/by fortune, and by tymes tempestius‖ (1314) and goes on, unperturbed, to ―. . . create/green from the grovnde, and floures, yeven out of stonn‖ (16-17). In the final lines of this unfinished poem an earlier image (of the withered body worn by fortune) is recalled to depict man at his final rest in this harsh and uneasy world, which shows his awareness of the human sufferings which befall those who have been her favorites. He clearly sees the destruction which she causes: ―Leaving us only woe, which like the moss,/ having cumpassion of vnburied bones/ cleaves to mischance and vnrepayred loss‖ (19-21). Here in a concluding image derived from nature, the ―bones‖ become a tangible symbol of mortality, while only the ―moss,‖ symbolizing misery, has compassion on the woeful lives of Elizabeth‘s former favorites. 248 The composition is one of Raleigh‘s most powerful poetic achievements, and the central sun metaphor contributes significantly to its success. In the course of the poem, the speaker comes to discover the general implications of his personal experience with the help of this image. First in immediate terms, he perceives behind his fall from the Queen‘s graces an unchanging pattern of royal conduct which similarly shapes the fortunes of all her past and present favorites: unlike the sublunary beings that come and go, the sun is constant and perpetual. In a broader perspective, the image presents the rise and fall of his fortunes as a necessary outcome of the paradoxically mixed nature of life in which every stage in the process of growth is also a step towards death. Thus, his personal suffering related to the basic scheme and impermanence of life then becomes representative of the suffering of all sublunary beings. His reflection on his own misfortune gives the closing image of the moss its strange air of disengagement. It is as if the speaker conceives of himself as sharing an experience which is common to many men, not limited to himself. This impersonal tone is invoked when the speaker seeks most defensively to deflect his words away from himself, where his tone of impersonal description covers a deep-seated vulnerability. In the final image, the unburied bones of the sorrow-consumed man emphasize the ultimate insignificance of the individual human creature that woe alone will keep company for an eternity. The sun metaphor then contributes largely to the effectiveness of the poem not only because it helps universalize the speaker‘s personal experience, but it also provides the narrative element with a twofold image. First, there is the human voice of the ―I‖ that comprehends and closely 249 identifies with ―withered bodd[ies]‖ (13) and suffering. Juxtaposed to this voice is the impersonal objective view of sublunary life which is ruled by the sun-queen figure. Her only interest lies in preserving life regardless of the pain which it involves for the individual man: she ―sees the birth, and burial, of all elce‖ (11). The first voice elicits emotional sympathy from the reader, and the other an intellectual awareness of life (his life), whereby the reader becomes involved in a representative conflict between the egotistical desire for self significance, and the objective knowledge of one‘s ultimate insignificance in the flux of time. We know that the beams of the Queen's love are joy and to be shaded from such love is sorrow. ―Despair,‖ ―misery,‖ ―tears,‖ ―woes,‖ and ―sighing‖ erupt from Scinthia, to the end where joy is dead and ―woe must ever last.‖ The beginning of the 22nd book, characteristically, is a book ―entreating of Sorrow.‖ The theme is so much a part of Raleigh and Raleigh's poetry that he later revised ―Entreatinge of Sorrow‖ twice—in the ―Conjectural First Draft of the Petition to Qveen Anne‖ and in ―Sir Walter Raghlies Petition to the Qveene 1618.‖ That his dejection is still being repeated in Raleigh's petition to Queen Anne fifteen years after Elizabeth's death is a powerful testament of the extreme anguish that he continued to live with. ―The First Draft‖ is dominated by ―those who site in Sorrows shade‖ (6). With its ultimately negative view of life, ―The First Draft‖ is a significant poem memorable for the compelling intensity of its dark vision. Coupled with the mournfully plaintive tone, its richly allusive imagery relates a moving account of the psychology of dejection. In painful terms 250 the persona expresses his lot in life: ―And what we some tyme were we seeme noe More,/ Fortune hath changd our shapes, and Destinie/ Defac‘d our very forme we had before,‖ (19-21). However, the sun image, particularly chosen to characterize Elizabeth‘s changeable relationships with her courtly followers, is excluded from the narrative. While some of the original figures of speech appear in the second version, their references do not culminate in a single representative idea. That is, the allegorical structure of ―Entreatinge of Sorrow‖ is not retained in the later versions. Rather, the poem employs a series of images which convey the meaning allusively. The two preliminary stanzas of ―The First Draft‖ are the same as the original composition. The speaker begins by comparing the ―. . . spring tyme ioyes . . .‖ (1) which he enjoyed in ―. . . the dawne and rising Sunne of youth‖ (2) to the sorrows that came with the ―. . . Evening, and the Winter sad‖ (4). In these lines the sun is merely a general symbol of happiness and does not include any reference (as it did in the earlier poem) to Queen Elizabeth‘s former affection for the persona. The speaker then goes on to consider the sorrows which beset him now. Elaborating upon the loneliness of misfortune and the fickleness of fate and friends, he gradually develops an argument to prove his innocence, and to win him royal mercy. In this poetic petition, Raleigh's persona argues his loyalty to the crown and elaborates on his undeserved sufferings with the hope of obtaining Queen Anne's help to plead his case with the king. ―Conjectural First Draft‖ then, though in large part a recasting of ―Sorrow,‖ replaces the confessional tone of the earlier version with a more controlled narrative voice. Its first two stanzas, mourning the flight of youth and happiness, are identical with those of ―Sorrow.‖ The ensuing lines, however, 251 decry the faithlessness of friends, not love, who have forsaken him in his time of need. The speaker's reflections on false friends, responsible for his present plight, explain the circumstances which have necessitated his present appeal for help: ―O had Truth power the guiltless could not fall/ Malice vaine- glorie, and revenge tryumph,/ But Truth alone cannot encounter all‖ (25-27). The speaker then juxtaposes to the described ineffectuality of unimplemented truth the far-reaching destructiveness of slander which has left him reined and defenseless: ―All Loue, and all desert of former tymes/ Malice hath couered from my Soueraignes Eyes,/ And Largely laide abroade supposed Crymes‖ (28-30). The poem is dominated by images depicting a moral and emotional waste-land which remains unrelieved until the very end by any object of hope. The images of death, decay, destruction, and malice pervade the poem‘s oppressive world. Unlike other poets who emphasize how their ‗art‘ arrests the flux of time, here there exists no agent of permanence, no redeeming principle of good to contain and confine the work of destruction. In the ―First Draft,‖ Raleigh‘s revision of the original poem‘s final image exemplifies the crucial difference between the respective worlds of the two compositions. The image of the moss covered unburied bones appears in the later work with a new emphasis: this symbol of mortality, no longer linked with compassion, but coupled with ivy growing on walls, emerges in the narrative progression as a harsh testimony of life‘s brutal destruction: ―Mosse to vnburied bones, Ivie to walles/ Whom Life and people have abandoned,/ Till th‘ one be rotten, stayes, till th‘ other falles‖ (10-12). Indeed, Raleigh‘s heightened sense of loss forms the basis for most of the moroseness in his poetry. 252 In its third and final version however, ―S.W. Raghlies Petition to the Qveene 1618,‖ the expression of sorrow appears much more controlled than in the two earlier drafts. Whereas the first two open by mingling reflective, anguished, introspective, and disillusioned sentiments of lost joy, here the speaker begins by making a judgment against the inadequacy of truth. The language, therefore, is appropriate for the philosophical elements that are introduced from the outset: O Had Truth Power the guiltlesse could not fall Malice winne Glorie, or Reuenge triumphe; But truth alone can not encounter all Mercie is fled to God which Mercie made, (1-4) Clearly, the figures of speech are carefully selected to serve the purpose of the narrative argument. The practical considerations which prompt the undertaking of the poetic petition now achieve precedence and provide an artistic check over the flow of emotions. Here, Raleigh‘s persona effectively argues his case, addressing the royal figure in a properly restrained tone which communicates his sense of urgency without excessive emotionality–– unlike his most memorable poetic achievements, which take the form of soliloquies. Remember, in the second version (―Conjectvral First Draft‖) the speaker says ―what we some tyme were we seeme noe More‖ (19). Now, he uses a more direct approach: ―what wee somtyme were wee are no more‖ (7). Not only does he introduce this observation earlier, but by substituting ―seem‖ with ―are‖ he expresses the idea as a fact that connot by argued or negated. The final version therefore is a much more closely structured but 253 poetically impoverished composition. Its formal tones bear little resemblance to the pulsating anguish of the ―First Draft‖ and even less to the moving soliloquy of ―Entreatinge of Sorrow.‖ Although in the second version Raleigh‘s persona directly addresses himself to Queen Anne, in the final ―Petition to the Qveene,‖ the speaker is highly conscious of his audience. As he pledges his love for Queen Anne, the persona‘s absolute desperation becomes apparent: ―That I and myne maye neuer murne the misse/ Of her wee had, but praise our liuing Queene,/ Who brings vs equall, if not greater, Blisse‖ (34-36). In this appeal to Queen Anne is an implicit reference to her predecessor's eminent sense of justice, which in effect urges the present queen to follow the example of Elizabeth by defending the cause of truth that will acquit him. The organic unity of the previous poems‘ experience is in large part lost in the final revised version. We must remember that almost all his despair over loss was expressed through poetry with the apparent hope that his misfortunes might be overturned by the power of his verse. However, he never enjoyed a personal relationship with Anne that in any way compared with the relationship he had shared with Elizabeth in the years prior to the writing of Scinthia, and a greater formality and finish would be expected of poems addressed to Queen Anne; therefore, he exchanges logical argumentation for the original soliloquy, a form infinitely more suited to his poetic temperament. It appears that the speaker‘s dejection is quite pronounced amid the composition of these two poems addressed to Queen Anne. In fact, Raleigh was out of favor with Elizabeth‘s successor even before James‘ accession 254 and shortly after he took the throne, in late 1603. We know that it was during this time that Raleigh was arrested and sentenced to death for treason. Most critics like Chidsey (221) and Trevelyan (366) recall that in the Tower, Raleigh sank into depression. His situation since the death of Elizabeth offered a bleak prospect. He had lost in a matter of weeks his chief sources of income, his fine London house, the position that had been his greatest pride, and now he was faced with the prospect of losing his life as well. Surprisingly, it was not these hardships that undermined his resolve. He had been in precarious situations before with the prospect of death looming over his head; he had always behaved with inspiring courage. However, his courage could do him little good because he was now at the mercy of this unfriendly Scottish king whose favor he could never hope to win. The most dispiriting prospect in the summer of 1603 was the fact that even if he escaped from the fate now hanging over him, he could never again flourish at court or in any great adventure. The most he could expect was a life without purpose or aim. Even when powerless against Elizabeth's outbursts, he could still rely on the fact that, as her cherished one, he could always hope for forgiveness. Conversely, James was anything but a friend. The awful reality of his situation was the humiliation that the new king inflicted upon the old Queen‘s favourite. At the age of fifty-one Walter Raleigh was in the midst of drowning in a sea more raging than any he had ever known. The accession of James I resulted in one loss after another for Raleigh. Deprived of his position, his wealth, and even the right to live, by July 20 th 1603 Raleigh was confined to the Tower of London (for the second time in his life). This time his confinement was for a crime graver than having married without the Queen‘s consent—the charge against him was high 255 treason. Subsequently, he sank into depression because even if by some miracle he escaped the death penalty, he would have to live with the fact that his precious Queen was gone forever. About two decades earlier, in the early 1580s, a German visitor to London had written that Queen Elizabeth ―is said to love this gentleman now beyond all others, and this must be true because two years ago he could scarcely keep one servant, and now, with her bounty, he can keep five hundred‖ (qtd. in Lacey 51). At that time, the thirty-year old Raleigh was a handsome and ambitious adventurer. By means of his wits and courage he had become close to Queen Elizabeth. Now, at fifty-one, this poet and hero of memorable battles at sea found himself stripped of all his ambitious achievements and was hopelessly lost. On 21 July 1603, Sir John Peyton, the lieutenant of the Tower, wrote to Cecil that Raleigh was maintaining his innocence ‗but with a mind the most dejected that I ever saw‘ (qtd. in Trevelyan 366). Two days later he repeated how despondent his prisoner seemed, so that he wondered whether ‗his [Raleigh‘s] fortitude is impotent to support his grief‘ (qtd. in Trevelyan 366), and then only four days later he – and Cecil – were to discover that his fears were justified, for, on 27 July 1603, while a group of privy councilors were in the Tower examining prisoners, Raleigh attempted to stab himself to death. Cecil and his colleagues rushed into Raleigh's cell to find him bleeding profusely and weakly protesting his innocence. He had a few days previously asked his keeper to purchase a long thin knife on the pretense that he wanted to stir his wine with it. Being denied such a sharp weapon, he found a blunt table-knife, aimed it at his heart and thrust it into his chest. A dagger would have done the job smoothly, but the table-knife simply bounced off a rib leaving a jagged gash which Cecil contemptuously 256 described as a cut under the pap rather than a proper stab. The secretary clearly thought that the suicide was a sham designed by Raleigh to win public sympathy, and he accordingly did his best to ensure that the incident was kept secret (Lacey 293). The fact that he reached the point of suicide may be attributed to melancholia turning against the self. Moreover, his desire for death seems to be attributable to a need to escape the weight of his troubles and is an extreme form of a turning against the self. It was a gesture of total despair, and Raleigh‘s reasons for it point to the core of his character; Archer provides an understanding of the way the mental processes involved in grief are generated: he argues that our identity is ―intimately tied up with those aspects which are most important to us, such as close personal relationships, family, home, job, and cherished possessions and beliefs‖ (8). Because these are highly emotionally charged entities that form the basis of who we are, there is a resistance to change. Therefore, when ―the external world changes suddenly and irrevocably . . . the inner experience of what has been lost remains intact and cannot change either quickly or easily‖ (8). Hence, the resulting grief that ensues develops out of the individual‘s inability to ‗quickly or easily‘ adjust to a loss. From Raleigh‘s biography, we know that in only a matter of four months, after the Queen‘s death on March 24 th 1603, Raleigh was stripped of his rank and possessions and arrested for treason. Being unjustly confined proved unbearable. In ―Notes on Grief in Literature,‖ M. Freedman argues that grief ―was one of the most compelling of literary subjects in the landscape of human experience‖ (340). What we understand here is that long before 257 modern psychologists and psychiatrists began to study grief, poets explored, examined and expressed this disturbing and troubling emotion.3 For Raleigh no where is this grief more pronounced than in ―My boddy in the walls captived,‖ a sonnet based on the contrast between an actual physical imprisonment and the imprisonment of the speaker‘s: ―thralde mind, of liberty deprived,/ Fast fettered in her auntient memory‖ (3-4). Latham concludes that the imprisonment referred to is the one of 1592 and that ―its appearance with the last books of Cynthia lends strong support to the theory that they, also, were composed at that time, in an attempt to soften the Queen‘s rigour‖ (125-6). However, it must be remembered that Raleigh was imprisoned ever after Queen Elizabeth‘s death, in 1603, and that all of the Cecil Papers may have been drafted during that time. Further, Raleigh would have had reason to compare his physical imprisonment in 1603, after having been found guilty of treason, with the memory of the emotional imprisonment of his love for the dead Queen. So, there is no substantial evidence to prove that all of the poems in the Cecil Papers were composed at the same time. Katherine Duncan-Jones places this poem, therefore, at a much later date, during the imprisonment under James I, mainly on the basis of lines such as: ―Butt tymes effects, and destinies dispightfull/ Haue changed both my keeper and my fare,‖ (8-9). She argues that: It does seem possible that in ―my boddy in the walls captived‖ he is merely comparing physical with emotional or metaphysical imprisonment. But the poem would have more force if the distinction were between imprisonment under James and imprisonment under Elizabeth: ―Such prison earst was so delightfull/ As it desirde no other dwellinge place‖ (6-7). It 258 seems a puzzling assertion of Raleigh to make of his first disgrace at a short remove; fifteen years later, however, it might well seem as if his youthful troubles had been delightful in comparison. (148-49) Although the speaker‘s physical imprisonment occasions the poem, he probes into other more painful forms of captivity that he has known. The central prison image assumes a threefold significance as the speaker compares his bodily imprisonment to his mental and emotional bondage. A three dimensional prison image, therefore, establishes in the speaker‘s consciousness the basis for a comparative review of his past and present experiences of enslavement. In each, a single extended figure of speech, like a metaphysical conceit, helps express and interpret the various aspects of a complex idea or experience. The prisoner/speaker remarks with amazement how little his corporeal captivity affects his inner world. Such discomforts of corporal confinement he finds easy to bear when he considers the far more agonizing forms of slavery he has known. After all, the walls that isolate him from the world also remove him from the reach of ―spightful envy‖ (2). His mind, ―fast fettered in her auntient memory,‖ is the real tormentor with its endless supply of sorrow generated by the omnipresent memory of his powerful mistress. The melancholia and compulsive repetition which this chapter has associated with Raleigh's poems is evident here. Melancholia—as a response to loss and a way of dealing with loss—is a kind of repetition or distorted interpretation of loss. However, whereas ―when the work of mourning is completed the ego becomes free and uninhibited again‖ 259 (―Mourning‖ 166), the kind of repetition that goes on in melancholia makes it unlikely that it would lead to the successful working through of a loss experience which is the purpose of compulsive repetition. The melancholic persona covets the notion of continuing his ties to the Queen even after losing her love, and for this reason identifies with the lost loved one—in effect, repeating the loved one in the mind. This is not repeating the loss experience, however, and so is more a denial of loss than a repeating of it. In this way, he can find no respite from the painful recollections mustered by his consciousness. What is now the source of constant mental agony for him, the speaker recollects, was once the source of his happiness. Almost naturally, his thoughts drift to that point in time when his captivity in love was a pleasurable affair because the captor was kind, and he joyously served her. The most significant reason for his happiness is that he received a great deal of love, attention, esteem, and pleasure where he ―. . . desirde no other dwellinge place‖ (7). His ensuing reflections establish a third narrative reference for the central prison image. The speaker explains that he was a willing and happy love captive before ―tymes effects and destinies dispightfull/ Haue changed both my keeper and my fare‖ (8-9). Though still a slave to love, being ―. . . now close keipt, as captives wounted are/ that food, that heat, that light I finde no more‖ (11-12). The favors which he formerly enjoyed from his mistress in return for his faithful service are now withdrawn. His abiding emotional attachment to her, once the source of happiness therefore has become the cause of unbearable anguish; the memory of former brightness makes present darkness profound. This description of the speaker‘s experience of successive and compounding losses refines and particularizes Freud‘s distinction between mourning and melancholia. 260 The pathos lies not in the fact that the speaker is bolted up physically but emotionally. Thus with great economy and effectiveness, Raleigh's persona formulates a complex personal experience in which unrequited love becomes the subject of mental and emotional agony, while the compelling nature of the attachment renders escape from this mental torture chamber an impossible feat to accomplish. Raleigh‘s personifications in this poem reveal his persona‘s dejection: ―sorrowe‖ has a ―diinge face‖; ―dyspaire bolts vp [his] dores‖; and ―walls‖ are deaf to his ―mone.‖ In the final couplet of the sonnet the narrative consciousness returns to the physical reality of the prison cell. In the bolted doors which imprison him, the speaker discovers an appropriate symbol of his emotional isolation and helplessness: ―Dyspaire bolts up my dores, and I alone/ Speake to dead walls, but thos heare not my mone‖ (13-14). The speaker's prison cell comes to have greater emotional impact on him than it did at the beginning: he now discovers in his present physical confinement a symbol, an awful reminder of his emotional isolation and senseless suffering. Moreover, his speaking to ―dead walls‖ here, recalls a line from ―Conjectural First Draft‖: ―Cold walles to You I speake, but you are Senclesse‖ (37). In both poems, there is no one to sympathize with his cries of anguish. The prison image dramatically clinches both the objective reality and the emotional ramifications of the speaker's captivity and highlights the inherent pathos of his terrible isolation. The prison metaphor, therefore, becomes not merely a means of expressing an emotional or psychological state. It also determines the structure of the poem as a whole, and it thereby drives home the idea that the imprisonment is not merely a Petrarchan 261 convention but a grim reality. ―My boddy in the walls captived‖ successfully creates a situation of absolute despondency. In the first place, the central prison image, being suggested to the speaker by his present captivity, enters the narrative consciousness to unearth anguish. More importantly, the image per se never becomes the speaker‘s primary concern. Rather, the rich associations evoked by the figure engage the persona in a dynamic process of recollection and re-evaluation of his past and present experiences in captivity. The sustained prison metaphor, then, imbues his sentiments and reflections with aesthetic unity, while the projected reality of his present imprisonment provides them with a dramatically appropriate background. ―My boddy in the walls captived,‖ therefore, provides one of the clearest expressions of this general attitude, which combines a tone of disillusionment with an uncompromising sense of injustice. The speaker's physical imprisonment which occasioned the poem exposes worse forms of captivity that he has suffered. The central prison image which thus provides a metaphoric expression for three different kinds of reality (physical, emotional and mental) imbues the narrative element with considerable formal coherence. More significantly, however, the poem's progression of ideas possesses the organic unity of an illuminating experience of disfavour and imprisonment. The persona‘s captivity seems to have been an almost unbearable calamity to a man who had already endured so many blows. Cinthia had protected and enriched him, for she was not only above time but she governed it—―Time weares hir not, she doth his chariot guide‖ 262 (13). To the contrary, in Scinthia he is an isolated and abandoned individual on the verge of oblivion: So my forsaken hart, my withered mind, widdow of all the ioyes it once possest, my hopes cleane out of sight, with forced wind to kyngdomes strange, to lands farr of addrest, Alone, forsaken, frindless onn the shore (85-89) At the center of this intense and expressive section is the misery ensuing from absolute loss: ―Alone, forsaken, frindless onn the shore‖ recalls the speaker from ―Farewell to the Covrt.‖ The ―shore‖ not only refers to the land of exile from all hopes and joys but exile from the lady who was their source. Moreover, the image of the ―shore‖ suggests the persona's inability to penetrate this kingdom of death, a place that ends all hope. Just as he is physically on the edge of this ―kyngdom,‖ he is emotionally on the edge of despair. The persona‘s bitter loneliness arises not simply from his disgrace but from a tragic recognition of annihilation, a sense of isolation from any transcendent force or any movement toward the renewal of life. When the speaker loses the support of the court, the nation, and all other complex means he has developed to escape from disgrace and isolation, and expresses the wretchedness of disfavor and the loneliness of the individual, he believes that all is lost. In the midst of the worst of his pain and anguish, he may not be wrong to feel that he has lost everything. He fears that his hurt will overwhelm him. His pain and anguish hold center-stage, no matter where he turns. Raleigh‘s persona seems to have 263 felt desperate, tortured by everyone around him. Apparently his agony was so great, his pain and anguish so overwhelming, that it must have seemed he was nothing but the embodiment of the hurt he felt. He apparently feared there would be no end to his misery. Such pain can cause loss of belief in one‘s own worth. As a consequence, his sense of mastery seems eroded and his belief in the world as a fair, orderly, and manageable place seems destroyed. However, as ―The Passionate Mans Pilgrimage‖ seems to show, Raleigh‘s speaker would not sit idle and exposed waiting for more dreadful things to happen. Hence, the term ―melancholia‖ refers not only to a type of disease but also to a form of cultural empowerment. With its long tradition in the history of Western culture, melancholia has appeared to some thinkers (such as Aristotle) as the disease of great men, as well as the secret to their greatness and inspiration (Radden 55). In The Analytic Freud, Michael Levine argues that: Melancholy‘s link with genius, creative energy and with exalted moods and states . . . can be found in Freud‘s essay. This is an alignment which traces back to Aristotelian writing. Reawakened and transformed during the Renaissance, the ‗glorification of melancholy‘ gathered strength from the new category of the man of genius. It waned during the early eighteenth century, only to be revived with the Romantic Movement. Now the suffering of melancholy was again associated with greatness; again, it was idealized, and the melancholy man was one who felt more deeply, saw more clearly and came closer to the sublime, than ordinary men. (221) 264 Melancholia is, therefore, understood to be a source of intellectual and artistic creativity, precisely through its transformation of emotional loss into creative productivity and gain. The recurrent theme of the speaker‘s frustration and harassment by forces beyond his control (Time, old age, fortune, social corruptions etc.) finally gives way to a more purposeful emphasis on the existing alternatives open to him in shaping his life or what was left of it. In ―The passionate mans pilgrimage,‖ the speaker has progressed from disillusionment and skepticism to a movement toward the development of a personal standard of values and a coherent vision of life. The persona attempts to defeat death by using it to celebrate his entry to heaven where he will walk by ―High walles of Corall‖ (34). These walls stand in sharp contrast to the aforementioned ―dead walls‖ (14) in ―My boddy in walls captived.‖ The poem was supposedly written after Raleigh‘s unjust trial for treason in 1603, on the eve of his scheduled execution: ―The poem may very well have been written in expectation of death‖ (Lathem 142). It seems that the prospect of death brings into focus what is important. The poem opens on a dramatic note whereby the speaker lists the items he will need to prepare for death: Give me my Scallop shell of quiet, My staffe of Faith to walke vpon, My Scrip of Ioy, Immortall diet, My bottle of saluation: 265 My Gowne of Glory, hopes true gage, And thus Ile take my Pilgrimage. (1-6) Although written during a time of exposure to death, the lines express an acceptance of his fate. Repetition of initial words in successive lines is one of Raleigh‘s favorite figures.4 Here, the words emphasize that no longer will the persona‘s staff be a ―staffe of broken hope‖ (10) or ―a gowne of graie, [his] bodie shall attire‖ (―Like to a Hermite poore‖ 9). Rather, Raleigh‘s poetic persona confirms that the dark emotions of grief, fear, and despair, which have resulted directly from his losses, do not plunge him into a state of weakness or defeat. Edwards has pointed out that long before Eliot composed his Wasteland as an instrument for contrasting spiritual starvation with spiritual fullness, Raleigh had dealt with these themes. In ―The passionate mans Pilgrimage,‖ one of his poems most admired by modern critics, which was written ten years after Scinthia, Raleigh uses the symbols in almost the same way as does Eliot—the dry soul moistened through religious experience: ―My soule will be a drie before,/ But after it, will nere thirst more‖ (17-18). Confronted with execution, Raleigh prepared his soul for death, and the poem that he wrote while awaiting his execution in 1603 must have convinced all that the accusations of atheism hurled against him had been false 5: Ouer the siluer mountaines Where spring the Nectar fountaines, And there Ile kisse 266 The bowle of blisse, And drinke my eternall fill On euery milken hill. (11-16) His remorse here is not merely a last-minute recantation of a worried unbeliever. Within a religious context, the persona confidently describes his soul travelling as a result of a faith born of experience and deep conviction. As Arthur Marotti has pointed out, ―from the time of Henry VIII… through the later Elizabethan period, writers used philosophical and religious stances to cope with political and social defeat,‖ (236). By imagining his happiness in heaven, he consoles himself and convinces himself of the validity of his tragic end. His grief, fear, and despair are transformed to gratitude, faith, and joy. He envisions his death and ascent to heaven as a blissful pilgrimage. We recall here Shelley‘s Adonais where mourning the untimely death of Keats, the speaker visualizes him as a departed soul turned into a star shining permanently in the firmament: ―Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven,/The soul of Adonais, like a star,/Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are‖ (LV, 493-95). The apparent situation here is somewhat different in that Raleigh‘s persona is visualizing his own imminent death plus heavenly ascent and no one else‘s, the similarity however could be seen in the two speakers‘ penchant of glorifying the souls of the victims of unjustifiable callousness—Keats a victim in Shelley‘s eyes and Raleigh in his own eyes. The speaker seems to realize that as the physical connection with the world is disrupted, the spiritual connection with his own self will attain a greater force precisely because it extends beyond 267 the physical. The account of this journey to heaven is most memorable for its predominant spirit of congeniality and joy, which are qualities not previously exhibited by Raleigh in his melancholic compositions: And by the happie blisfull way More peacefull Pilgrims I shall see That haue shooke off their gownes of clay, And goe appareled fresh like mee. Ile bring them first To slake their thirst And then to tast those Nectar suckets At the cleare wells Where sweetnes dwells Drawne vp by Saints in Christall buckets. (19-28) The passage projects the speaker‘s optimism and excitement, highly uncharacteristic of Raleigh. The phrase ―time is a healer‖ is what is thought to bring about the mitigation of grief. However, for Archer, ―it is commonly believed that it is not time itself that is the healer but some process which occurs during this time . . . . The concept of grief work implies that a change over time leading to resolution can only be achieved through a long and difficult process of confronting thoughts of the loss, and that there are no easy routes or short cuts‖ (108). The variation in language and tone here may be explained by the persona‘s eventual acceptance of his fate over time. There is neither protest nor resistance, but rather a tranquil surrendering of his self. The adjectives ―blissful,‖ ―peacefull,‖ ―fresh,‖ and ―cleare‖ reflect the persona‘s transformed sensibilities. The language of the poem provides 268 restorative power.6 Moreover, he expresses himself didactically, to educate courtiers in the values of ―. . . cleare wells/Where sweetnes dwells‖ (26-27). Out of this truly troubling moment, the persona feels impelled to create an exemplary life of an Elizabethan gentleman. The speaker adds the image of piety to prepare for his presentation of his self-sacrifice. We follow this procession to ―heauens Bribeles hall‖ (35) where Christ ―pleades for all without degrees‖ (41) and secures each his one salvation. At this juncture, the reality of his impending death returns and the persona remembers that he will ―want a head to dine next noone‖ (55). In the final lines, the central metaphor provides a resolution of the problem. The speaker remarks that he will soon be ready to make the pilgrimage if at the moment of his death Christ will ―set on [his] soule an euerlasting head‖ (57). Thus, the large image of a pilgrimage helps express in effectively concrete terms the speaker‘s hopes of attaining spiritual salvation and eternal life. There is no consolation other than that which he believes in his own heart—in his own soul, patiently waiting to be recognized and set free. The poem not only puts across his personal expression of loss, but his construction of grief as a way of articulating self-scrutiny and social criticism. In heaven, he will find no corruption such as he finds with judges on earth, for Christ will be his advocate: ―For there Christ is the Kings Atturney:/ Who pleads for all without degrees,/ And he hath Angells, but no fees‖ (40-42). Sometimes it becomes impossible to separate the man from his persona, and this instance among the many throughout his poetry is too specific to separate entirely the ―speaker‖ from Raleigh, or at least from an active man who loved and was inspired by his former Queen. This brings us 269 to a central problem where Raleigh's own life cannot be ignored. Raleigh‘s judges were clearly corrupted, and it hardly matters whether it was by money, as the poem implies, or by the expedients of politics. Bribery is a universal symbol for the corruption in the processes of law. In a world peopled by such ruthless self-seeking individuals, the basic rule of personal survival in society shows the machinations of wickedness in the legal system; betrayal and corruption play a critical role in the poem. The paradox of resignation and hope—of abandoning the fight in the course of the poem and yet using the poem to pursue the fight—poses subtle problems. The poem is finally about resignation and renunciation. The speaker in this poem comes to an apparent acceptance of time, severance, and death; by the end of the poem he prays that God will give him an everlasting head to replace the head which he is about to lose: Iust at the stroke when my vaines start and spred Set on my soule an everlasting head. Then am I readie like a palmer fit, To tread those blest paths which before I writ. (56-59) While never denying or minimizing his pain and loss, the speaker attempts to allay his grief by appealing to both his faith and reason. While it is difficult to quantify emotions like grief, it appears that such intellectual wit that Raleigh achieves here might strike a modern reader as among the least effective means of consolation. We would expect a poet to appeal sensitively to his bereaved tender emotions, controlling grief by grieving himself. Raleigh‘s culture, however, exalted reason and condemned 270 passion—thus anticipating the insights of modern cognitive psychology, which upholds that thoughts determine feelings, and that the best way to change emotions is to alter thinking (see Rando 239; Parkes 39). The poem then appeals less to mere emotions than to the mind, and that in doing so it attempts to curb passion by governing the thought process. The intellectual maneuvers Raleigh undertakes here properly viewed are not self-indulgent; rather, they represent an attempt to engage, stimulate, and thus reorient the thinking of the persona that is pained by loss. Babb showed for instance, that the standard Renaissance response to melancholia was to regulate passion by relying on religion and affable reasoning (4), and Houlbrooke notes that in the early modern period excessive grieving was often thought to demonstrate ―a lack of faith, reason, self-control, even a perverse willfulness‖ (221). Not to feel grief at all, however, was unnatural. It is easy to see some of Raleigh‘s poems as works whose main themes focus on personal deprivations and frustrated ambitions with no sign of a positive outcome whatsoever. Yet, through his poetry he is able to defeat melancholia by transforming his experiential loss by means of poetic expression. Spenser wrote in ―Book I,‖ of The Faerie Queene, ―he oft finds med‘cine who his griefe imparts/double griefs afflict concealing harts‖ (II, xxxiv, 4-5), and Archer notes that ―it is advantageous to express the feelings and thoughts of grief in words. Research now bears out that talking or writing about painful thoughts is associated with more positive feelings, lower depressive moods, and fewer health-related symptoms at a later time‖ (77). There are beneficial effects to writing about grief because expressing such troubling emotions is therapeutic. Tian Dayton observes that: 271 Like fire, grief has the power to transform or destroy a person from within ––to cleanse, purify and instruct the inner being or reduce it to ashes. The experience of grief humbles us, giving way to awareness of what is truly important . . . . If you looked into the lives of some of the world‘s greatest people you would learn that more often than not their deepened energy, talent and commitment to the world have their origins in one or more experiences of working through and overcoming some major life problems. Great art and great thought are often the result of great suffering. (135) Therefore, articulating complicated feelings of personal loss could temper the heartache of sorrow and ease Raleigh‘s persona through a gradual process of healing and acceptance of loss. His poetry helps him integrate the disparate, even fragmented parts of his life. Poetic essences of sound, metaphor, image, feeling, and rhythm act as remedies that can strengthen our whole system—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. For Raleigh, poetry becomes a means of confronting and mastering loss; his verse enables him to navigate through the darkness that surrounds him as he makes his way through the morass of pain. The urge to convey his thoughts and to understand his vicissitudinous life through his poetry no doubt gives Raleigh both a distinct voice to express his loss and a means of retaining his sense of self-worth. Poetry allows him to purge himself of melancholia. Instead of destructive impulses, his creativity offers him a healthy and constructive means of self-expression. Loss feeds the poet‘s art, giving him deep emotions to explore and communicate. Indeed, Raleigh finds refuge in 272 his own writing. 273 Notes, Chapter V 1 I have no intention to ignore the dangers of the psychological approach by undertaking a close and sensitive reading of the poetry that does not lapse in literary judgment. In the words of John Press: ―Freud has aided us to understand how complex the human mind is, and we are misusing his researches if we apply them crudely and mechanically to the study of poetry‖ (53). Therefore, the psychological theories employed throughout much of this chapter will be applied without jeopardizing or compromising on the close textual analysis and its direct bearings. 2 Egoism, as used here, is a Freudian term referring to ―the instinct of self- preservation, a measure of which may justifiably be attributed to every living creature,‖ (Freud: General Psychological Theory, p 56) 3 Ben Jonson and John Donne wrote many poems on grief. Some of Jonson‘s well-known poems on the subject are his great tribute to the dead Shakespeare, his exalted praise of two young friends (one deceased) in the ―Cary-Morison Ode,‖ and of course his deeply restrained, moving elegy on the death of his first son. Similarly, many critics have admired Donne‘s lengthy Anniversaries, ―An Anatomie of the World‖ and ―Of the Progress of the Soule,‖ written to commemorate the death of a patron‘s young daughter, Elizabeth Drury. 274 4 See, ―Praisd Be Dianas faire and harmless light‖ ll. 1-7; ―A Farwell to false Love‖ ll. 11-21; and Scinthia ll. 37-41, 400-403, 430-433. 5 A tendency once widespread but now generally discredited magnified some charges hinted at by Raleigh's enemies in his own time into a full-blown religious conspiracy, whereby Raleigh is seen as heading, throughout much of the 1590s, an antireligious philosophical occult ―School of Night‖ that included such men as George Chapman, Thomas Harriot, and Marlowe—all of whom are assumed to have been interested in such pursuits as occult science and necromancy. These notions found full expression in M. C. Bradbrook's The School of Night and Frances Yates's The Occult Philosophy in the Elizabethan Age. Although little factual evidence exists for these theories, they still pop up occasionally in popular biographies. Ernest A. Strathmann's Sir Walter Raleigh: A Study in Elizabethan Skepticism and John W. Shirley's Biography of Thomas Harriot provide authoritative rebuttals. 6 We are reminded by the substitution of the more subdued ―Even such is tyme‖ for the abrasive apostrophe ―Oh creull Time.‖ 275 Conclusion In the previous chapters we have seen in depth how the personal losses of Raleigh the man become the asset and resource for profound artistic expressions of Raleigh the poet. His verse of even the happy courtly days reflects his penchant for exploring the various dimensions of the effects of loss on the human psyche, the poetic one in particular. It clinches the view that it is not a sheer mechanical pouring of subjective feelings into verse, but an effort, a successful one for that matter, to elevate the personal to the lofty level of universal reflecting personal transformation resulting from the ravages of time. In contemplating his personal losses, he is able to decipher the universal patterns governing the human situation in given circumstances. His losses are not a sign of failure, but rather the builders of his character and strength. In the face of challenges and disheartening situations, he finds himself growing wiser, maturer, more insightful about life, and more resistant to onslaughts of adversity. The situation that may be devastating for a common man proves a sort of effective purgatory for Raleigh whence he emerges decontaminated and cleansed. In this respect, Dayton compellingly demonstrates: Mental health and spiritual health are deeply linked. Overcoming psychological and emotional blocks . . . cleanses and purifies the spirit and makes it ready to receive grace and wisdom. As the mind and emotional self grow, so does the spirit because they are woven of the same cloth . . . . (136) If the sense of loss adds apparently to the misery of the speaker on the one 276 hand, on the other it also acquires the wonderful dimension of the poetic creativity to the degree of catapulting a poet into prominence. Raleigh‘s strength, eloquence, and the power of his language confirm that the dark emotions of grief, fear, and despair, which result directly from his losses, do not plunge his persona into a state of weakness or defeat, but rather open the speaker‘s heart to address temporal issues such as court and church corruption, as well as man‘s destiny, life, and death. With the strength of rhythmical words flows an emotional and spiritual energy that opens up the heart. Indeed, it is with and through the conviction of his heart that Raleigh is empowered to passionately write such lines as, ―cowards fear to Die, but Courage stout,/Rather than live in Snuff, will be put out‖ (1-2). This shift, the movement through pain to emotional and spiritual power, is a process by which something painful is transmuted into something very precious, and like the oyster whose discomfort produces precious pearls, the personal version of inner healing through apparent suffering becomes insightful and inspirational. Although imprisonment and subsequent exclusion from the Queen‘s circle for five years were terrible blows to his pride following his secret marriage to Elizabeth Throckmorton, Raleigh seems to have risen from the tormenting wrath of his Queen to a sense of competence and personal worth. Sometimes there are limits to the powers of love and friendship, and Raleigh always seemed to run the risk of getting involved with people who rejected, betrayed, and hurt him for one reason or another. His couplet ―for who so reapes, renowne aboue the rest,/With heapes of hate, shal surely be opprest‖ (―Walter Rawely of the Middle Temple, in Commendation of the Steele Glasse‖ 11-12) shows that Raleigh accepted this risk as part of the 277 price he had to pay for being a courtier, and some pain is also part of that price. Nevertheless, for our poet, few things made life as worthwhile as the experiences he shared with the Queen. Even when Raleigh was in the depths of his disgrace, torn between his love for Bess and his friendship with the Queen, he had been compelled to acknowledge the power that Elizabeth exerted over him. He simply had not been able to live retired in the country with his poems, experiments, and ideas for exploration. He had to return to court to win back the favor of the woman he could not imagine ever living without. There was something about Raleigh‘s personality that made him not choose to linger in the lethargy of loss with a dispirited life that could have potentially drained him of all vitality. He in the true spirit of Tennyson‘s Ulysses was completely averse to sit idle amid ignorant people and leave the remaining world (in Raleigh‘s case winning back the Queen‘s favor) unexplored even in the face of fast approaching end.The thought of approaching end rather pushes Raleigh to haste in order to make the best of the remaining time and thus defeat the looming death. Like Ulysses, Raleigh‘s persona too desires to ―drink/ life to the lees‖ (6-7). Speaking of himself, Ulysses seems to sum up Raleigh‘s tragic life: ―all times I have enjoy‘d/Greatly, have suffer‘d greatly, both with those/That loved me, and alone‖ (Ulysses 7-9). It must have been difficult for someone with Raleigh‘s energy to reconcile uninspiring situations like exile and confinement, which must have been difficult to bear; Raleigh constantly thought about new lands, new concepts, and new experiences. Amid the danger and the turmoil of politics and war which absorbed a major part of his activities, our poet never abandoned his poetry. He met with daunting challenges as he grappled with the great mysteries of 278 life, injustice, suffering, and death. So, in order for us to appreciate fully Raleigh‘s poetry within the context of loss, we had to understand his life— especially his life in relation to Elizabeth I. His success depended on the Queen‘s support, and as in the case of most courtiers, Raleigh‘s future lay utterly in the Queen‘s favorable attitude. After his secret marriage, therefore, we see how the extent of her displeasure carries with it a severe professional setback. So when he lost the Queen, Raleigh was on the brink of losing a sense of meaning, direction, security, and purpose. Nothing could make up for the loss of the intimate connection he shared with the late Queen. His grief is comprised of at least two parts: the emotions (pain, sadness, and emptiness) that we typically associate with grief, and the changes that occur as he recognizes that he no longer can live his life as before. In the face of hardships precipitated by loss, Raleigh is challenged to embrace transformation not only in his perception of the world but also in selfperception. Raleigh lost not only a relationship but a way of life, and in his poems he focuses all his attention on the exploration of the meaning in its entirety that the lost relationship had for him. Among the greatest paradoxes of life is trying to transform a situation that will not change. Commonly, it is the lingering hope that arouses expectations for a tragic situation to change. In our hoping against hope we infuse what looks like a painful condition with hope; a kind of psychological self-deception necessary probably to haul one out of his killing morass. Emily Dickinson hits upon this psychological phenomenon when she says: 279 ―Hope‖ is a thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all— (1-4) The ambitious courtier from Devonshire overcame helplessness, found renewed purpose in the little time left for him and hope for the afterlife. Raleigh changed and grew through his suffering. He became gentler and more deeply human. We witness the resilience of his spirit; we see how death itself is transforming. Although the hostile atmosphere of the Court cut short Raleigh‘s dreams and aspirations, he found strength within himself and a grace that transcended worldly attachment, enabling him to face death and loss. In tearing away his possessions, his hopes, and his dreams, loss offered him the opportunity to discover who he really was and to penetrate the depths of his very being, to know that which lies beyond his attachment to external people, places, and things is insignificant. His profound loss paved the way for a recognition of something much more substantial—an unshakable awareness of his ―inner being‖ and ―inner worth.‖ It was the dark recesses of his mind that conveyed to him he in his own person was not enough, that deluded him into thinking he needed external people and situations to be a certain way in order to feel safe, fulfilled, and complete. But when the time came for him to die, Raleigh‘s persona seems to draw inspiration from his resilient spirit. He draws upon what he has learned through life, about how to face, not run away from his mortality. He acknowledges and poignantly expresses his imminent death; he lives his dying day with dignity. He is able 280 to refashion out of his loss a language and style that befit his various states of mind. Indeed, Raleigh had to muster up the poet within to say to the executioner who suggested that he should face the east, ―What matters it which way the head lie, so the heart be right? . . . . What dost thou fear? Strike, man, strike!‖ (qtd. in Trevelyan 552). The man of action was needed to give the order for his own beheading. The universality of Raleigh‘s experience establishes loss as a resource for philosophical and poetic inspiration. Though once in high royal favor, he ultimately suffered imprisonment and execution. His poetry therefore leaves us intensely curious as to his anguish, and curious about the events that help to explain his thoughts. It seemed to take the influence of the court or the pressure of passionate private feeling to bring into life Raleigh‘s talent as a poet. This talent is the product of a creative interaction between his personality and the heightened atmosphere of Elizabeth‘s court. For Latham, ―his poetry was…something essentially intimate and private‖ (xxiv). She also adds how he tried to ―express the thoughts that really stirred him, the emotions he was actually feeling‖ (xxvi). For this reason Raleigh is not Shakespeare: the latter does not provide in his poetry an unlimited mine of personal or topical allusions to be conjectured on, discovered and rediscovered, and analyzed. Raleigh‘s deepest emotional anguish is embodied in creative language; channeling hurt, anger, and distress into a work of creative expression. This is his artistic solution whereby he can finally accept loss. Acceptance not in a sense of liking or approving of what has happened but being able to place his losses into a larger context and give them meaning in the process of growing into a maturer and more spiritual person. When his persona is finally able to express words that have healing 281 power, his spiritual energy is awakened to allow joy, humanity, and compassion to enter. Raleigh‘s personal growth has come from the events and circumstances of his own life. The meaning that leads toward spiritual enlightenment has arisen through his verse. Through his poetry, he probes deeply into his personal unconscious. Art has the facility to concretize inner experience, to give shape to that which floods the unconscious in a shapeless state and affects the psyche. The drive toward art and creation seems in Raleigh to spring from the need to give voice to loss—bringing it out from the deepest reaches of his inner world into the light of day to be seen and shared. 282 Primary Works Cited Bacon, Francis. ―Of Great Place.‖ The Essays. Ed. John Picher. London: Penguin, 1985. 90-93. Brooks-Davies, Douglas, ed. Silver Poets Of The Sixteenth Century. London: Orion, 1992. Burton, Robert. The Anatomy of Melancholy. 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