February 10, 2004
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
So I'm reading this Amber series of sword and sorcerey books by Roger Zelazny.
This fact is not so important to this log except as background. In the fifth book, The Courts of Chaos, I came across this passage:
I finished my wine. She moved to pour me more and I stayed her hand.
She looked up at me. I smiled.
"You almost persuaded me," I said.
Then I closed her eyes with kisses four, so as not to break the charm, and I went and mounted Star. The sedge was not withered, but he was right about the no birds. Hell of a way to run a railroad, though.
"Goodbye, Lady."
This is an allusion to the poem La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats. In making this allusion Zelazny is not drawing any comparison between the characters in the two works, not by allegory or simile. Rather he is intimating that they are one and the same person, who happened to enter into the experiences, and therefore stories, of both authors.
This device falls squarely into the Tolkein tradition of adding depth to a myth by having a character make reference to even older myths. Of course Tolkien wrote his own older myths, Zelazny here borrows one. Keats borrowed this myth from older sources when he sat to write his poem. Even Tolkein did some borrowing of his own, basing material for both his oldest and his youngest layers on existing Scandanavian and Germanic folklore.
I like this device because it either, allows me to feel smart becuase I know what he's talking about, or it gives me a new avenue of research. Tolkein would do a better job because he wouldn't rely on his reader being well-read to understand the paragraph, rather he would adapt the bit of folklore to make sense within his story and allow his audience to decide whether or not they thought there was some real bit of myth behind it and were interested in further research (you bet your sweet bippy I am!).
I happen to know about La Belle Dame Sans Merci through my expereince working at the Houghton Library.
Le Belle Dame Sans Merci is a ballad Keats wrote based on a medieval song about a femme fatale. A reworking/remaking of an old myth the way Tolkien would have done it. Follow the link to a very good introduction.
Keats left two finished versions of the poem. Naturally, critics differ about which one is better.
You can decide for yourself:
Manuscript Published
I I
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering? Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake, The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing. And no birds sing.
II II
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone? So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full, The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done. And the harvest's done.
III III
I see a lily on thy brow, I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew, With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheeks a fading rose And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too. Fast withereth too.
IV IV
I met a lady in the meads, I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child, Full beautiful - a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light, Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild. And her eyes were wild.
V V
I made a garland for her head, I set her on my pacing steed,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; And nothing else saw all day long,
She looked at me as she did love, For sideways would she lean, and sing
And made sweet moan. A faery's song.
VI VI
I set her on my pacing steed, I made a garland for her head,
And nothing else saw all day long, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
For sidelong would she bend, and sin She look'd at me as she did love,
A faery's song. And made sweet moan.
VII VII
She found me roots of relish sweet, She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew, And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said - And sure in language strange she said -
'I love thee true'. 'I love thee true.'
VIII VIII
She took me to her elfin grot, She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore, And there she gazed, and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four. So kiss'd to sleep.
IX IX
And there she lulled me asleep And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! - And there I dream'd - Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dreamt The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side. On the cold hill side.
X X
I saw pale kings and princes too, I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they al Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!' Hath thee in thrall!'
XI XI
I saw their starved lips in the gloam, I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide, With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here, And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill's side. On the cold hill side.
XII XII
And this is why I sojourn here And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering, Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing. And no birds sing.
What makes the manuscript version of this poem special for me is that he wrote it out in a letter to his brother George (who was living in St. Louis, Missouri). In the letter he pokes fun at himself saying:
Why four kisses -- you will way -- why four? Because I wish to restrain the headlong impetuosity of my Muse -- she would have fain said "score" without hurting the rhyme -- but we must temper the imagination as the critics say with judgment. I was obliged to choose an even number that both eyes might have fair play: and to speak truly I think two apiece quite sufficient. Suppose I had said seven; there would have been three and a half apiece -- a very awkward affair -- and well got out of on my side --
Now, the Houghton Library has the largest collection of Keats material in the world, and has dedicated one room in its building to the collection. There you can find, as I have, the very letter mentioned above. Reading this as an undergraduate and enjoying the ballad in Keats' own hand was one of the main joys of my Harvard experience. It is no wonder that I became a librarian.
And if you're all interested I can arrange a tour of the library, including the Keats collection, through the Keeper of the Printed Book at the Houghton Library (Imagine that's the title of your job, Keeper of the Printed Book, as if you had all of the output of the western intellectual tradition in your care).
If you want, you too can see these words in Keats' own hand with your own eyes.
And, if you really want to know why I became a librarian its so I can one day be called Keeper of something.
Posted by MetaMetadata at February 10, 2004 10:59 PMMetametadata, i love the manuscript version. I can see why you'd want to be called the Keeper of something.
Posted by: lily at February 11, 2004 01:13 PMI was thinking of that very tour I gave you Kenj as I wrote this log. I am very happy that you remember the good times too.
Yes, your sin IS like a fairy song.
Posted by: Keeper of the Blog at February 11, 2004 11:10 PM