In 1843, Wordsworth was appointed Poet Laureate of England. He had been known in his youth as a somewhat radical poet, but gradually turned more conservative. Many in the literary community believed he had sold out his principles and allowed himself to be bought for the "handful of silver" of his civil list pension (received in 1842) and the "riband to stick in his coat" of the laureteship. In 1945, Robert Browning wrote this magnificent "more in sorrow than in anger" poem decrying, as we would have put it in the 60s, his selling out to the establishment. (No, the 60s didn't invent the idea, only the term. <g>)
I felt this was a remarkably apt poem to offer now to Jill, Bob, Brad, and all the other formerly true and loyal SI-ers who, for the lure of lucre, have deserted the "clear accents" of noncommercialism and broken "from the van and the freemen" to "sink to the rear and the slaves."
So let us "blot out [their] names, then, record [three] lost souls more..." And let us record, in one of Browning's very best lines, "One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!"
Adieu, bretheren. We sorrow in our grief.
The Lost Leader
Robert Browning, 1845
1 Just for a handful of silver he left us,
2 Just for a riband to stick in his coat--
3 Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
4 Lost all the others she lets us devote;
5 They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,
6 So much was theirs who so little allowed:
7 How all our copper had gone for his service!
8 Rags--were they purple, his heart had been proud!
9 We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him,
10 Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,
11 Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,
12 Made him our pattern to live and to die!
13 Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us,
14 Burns, Shelley, were with us,--they watch from their graves!
15 He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
16 --He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!
17 We shall march prospering,--not thro' his presence;
18 Songs may inspirit us,--not from his lyre;
19 Deeds will be done,--while he boasts his quiescence,
20 Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire:
21 Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,
22 One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,
23 One more devils'-triumph and sorrow for angels,
24 One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!
25 Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!
26 There would be doubt, hesitation and pain,
27 Forced praise on our part--the glimmer of twilight,
28 Never glad confident morning again!
29 Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly,
30 Menace our heart ere we master his own;
31 Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us,
32 Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne! |
