Tohu Bohu

OK, Gentle Readers, Your Humble Blogger is aware that y’all have been fretting for two days now, asking, “Now that the cruelest month has begun, when O when will Vardibidian devote some space in his Tohu Bohu to poetry?” Well, and it’s an interesting coincidence that you should ask that, Gentle Reader, or at least it would have been had you actually asked it. Because a few weeks ago, Your Humble Blogger picked up from the library shelf The Faber Popular Reciter, edited by Kingsley Amis and published in 1978 by, you guessed it, Faber and Faber. The poems (and hymns, and so on) in the book represent an amazing base of cultural literacy for two or three or maybe four generations of literate Englishman (and the occasional Irishman). Most of them I’ve never read; most of them contain at least a few phrases that are familiar to me. And, of course, Your Humble Blogger is at a disadvantage having only attended, let's see, fewer than ten Anglican services (one at Westminster!). Any Gentle Reader interested enough in mystery fiction to scan the spines on a library shelf, much less actually read a few, will recognize a bunch of phrases from these poems. It was eye-opening to find the proper homes for them. It was also eye-opening to actually read the whole text of some other ones, which I had skimmed before, or even read as a “student”. So, for National Poetry Month, I’ll go through a bunch of the poems in the Reciter, and try to pull out interesting things and phrases from them. I doubt I’ll do them all; there are a hundred and fifty or so. Anyway, here’s a start...

Anonymous
Hierusalem, my happy home: This is, I believe, a hymn, still sung on occasion by Anglicans, yes? There are a few images here that are familiar to me, but I don’t think they are from this poem: “happy harbour of the saints”, “Thy gates are of right orient pearl”, “Thy very streets are paved with gold”, and the ending “Would Gd my woes were at an end / Thy joys that I might see”. I doubt the pearly gates originate here (is it from Enoch? Or Baruch? Or where?) but it’s possible the streets paved with gold does.
Edward, Edward: A version of this was recorded by Steeleye Span, so it was all pretty familiar from beginning to end.
Sir Patrick Spens: I’m pretty sure I’ve heard the “To Noroway, to Noroway” bit, quoted by some mid-century Briton or other. Otherwise, this is pretty darned forgettable, for a shipwreck.
Brave Lord Willoughby: Now this is a magnet for parody, and I believe for dance as well. This was the first time I’d actually read the story of the famous fight in Flanders that was foughten in the field, with English Captains three and all.

William Kethe
The Old Hundredth: This is another hymn, and I think I’ve heard it sung. In this version, I mean; I know the Hebrew version pretty well. “The Lord, ye know, is Gd Indeed” evidently predates the KJV, and is sunk in the literary consciousness so deep it turns up in a bunch of unexpected places. In fact, I think I’ll reprint the whole thing:

All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice,
Him serve with fear, His praise forthtell;
Come ye before Him and rejoice.

The Lord, ye know, is God indeed;
Without our aid He did us make.
We are His folk, He doth us feed,
And for His sheep He doth us take.

Oh, enter, then, His gates with praise,
Approach with joy His courts unto;
Praise, laud, and bless His name always.
For it is seemly so to do.

For why? The Lord, our God, is good;
His mercy is forever sure.
His truth at all times firmly stood
And shall from age to age endure.

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
To God whom heaven and earth adore,
From men and from the angel host
Be praise and glory evermore.

How many phrases there are part of basic cultural literacy? I count at least five (quiz!), but of course it’s likely that some (angel host) are already echoes (and I’m not counting Father, Son and Holy Ghost, for which I don’t credit Mr. Kethe one bit). Still, this would be earlier than many, if not most, translations of the Psalms, and so had its influence, whether it was original or no. And, of course, it’s more like ten generations who recited this in Sunday School, or sang it with their congregations. I’m not surprised that this was a favorite in the heyday of schoolboy recitations, either as it’s easy to learn and recite.

OK, one more

Michael Drayton
Agincourt: No, this is just awful. I know I’m comparing it to some of the best writing in the English language, but it just isn’t worth any Gentle Reader wading through this one, even to find any novel title I’ve missed, and if there were any, I’ve missed them.

And on that note, I’ll end today’s installment. Tomorrow (if YHB gets to it): Shakespeare! and Campion!

Oh, when shall Englishmen / with such acts fill a pen / or England bring again, such a—
-Vardibidian.