"With their names
No bard embalms and sanctifies his song:
And history so warm on meaner themes,
Is cold on this."
It wasn't attributed in the book (which was written in the 19th century), but a little Googling gives this direction:
William Cowper (pronounced Cooper), 1731-1800, English poet.
Cowper suffered attacks of insanity throughout his life, and sought either treatment or retirement in an asylum early in his life. There he became interested in the predestinarian theology of John Calvin, and became devoted to evangelical Christianity. In 1767 he moved to Olney, where he wrote The Olney Hymns with the evangelical preacher John Newton. The project was interrupted by another attack of insanity, during which he was convinced of his irrevocable damnation -- a sense he describes in his last important poem, "The Cast-Away."
In 1785 he published his most famous work, The Task, a long poem in six books.
(more here or on Wikipedia)
I really like the quote. This excerpt from a longer poem interests me because it seems to ring true that so many things worth examining remain unsung, while many things we wish we could forget are scrutinized ad nauseam. The implication is that we should pay more attention to the overlooked, the taken for granted things. And that seems to be a major theme in my life. I'm quite drawn to and focused on parts of human existence which are generally "out of the norm." I think Aerosmith echoed this sentiment perfectly when Steven Tyler sang, "Care about things and nobody cares; [I'm] wearing out the things that nobody wears."
(And THAT's how you connect religious poets of the 18th century to rock hits of the '70s. Voilà.)
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1 comment:
It's always nice to find small snippets of common threads.
William Cowper touches my heart, both for his gentle awareness of the "taken for granted things" and his lifelong struggle of being such a sensitive soul in a harsh world.
This particular quote (from The Task, Book lll, The Garden) is one of my very favorite passages; it pretty much says everything I need to say when people question why I do what I do:
"Well--one at least is safe. One shelter'd hare
has never heard the sanguinary yell
of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
Innocent partner of my peaceful home,
Whom ten long years' experience of my care
Has made at last familiar; she has lost
Much of her vigilant instinctive dread,
Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine.
Yes--thou may'st eat they bread, and lick the hand
That feeds thee; thou may'st frolic on the floor
At evening, and at night retire secure
To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarm'd;
For I have gain'd the confidence, have peldg'd
All that is human in me to protect
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee I will dig thy grave;
And, when I place thee in it, sighing, say,
I knew at least one hare that had a friend."
Sister K
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