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ENG LYRIC POETRY.pdf - STIBA Malang

ENG LYRIC POETRY.pdf - STIBA Malang

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ANDREW MARVELL<br />

sentimentalized in the seventeenth century, 21 Marvell was especially attuned<br />

to the element of “bad faith” in this gesture. As the opening stanza suggests, in<br />

its entangling wit, a posture that claims a complete renunciation of power<br />

only deflects and re-creates the totalizing impulse in another form. The perfect<br />

“garland of repose” imagined by the speaker “crowns” and “upbraids” all efforts<br />

at civic accomplishment in the respective areas of war, statesmanship, and<br />

poetry:<br />

How vainly men themselves amaze<br />

To win the Palm, the Oke, or Bayes;<br />

And their uncessant Labours see<br />

Crown’d from some single Herb or Tree.<br />

Whose short and narrow verged Shade<br />

Does prudently their Toyles upbraid;<br />

While all Flow’rs and all Trees do close<br />

To weave the Garlands of repose.<br />

Marvell, of course, is the maker, not the victim of the maze. By taking the idea<br />

of pastoral—“vegetable Love”—excessively straight, he ensures that we see its<br />

eccentricities:<br />

No white nor red was ever seen<br />

So am’rous as this lovely green.<br />

Fond Lovers, cruel as their Flame,<br />

Cut in these Trees their Mistress name.<br />

Little, Alas, they know, or heed,<br />

How far these Beauties Hers exceed!<br />

Fair Trees! wheres’e’er your barkes I wound,<br />

No Name shall but your own be found.<br />

And he ensures that we understand, too, how eccentricities are perhaps not<br />

always quite innocent, as in the much disputed central stanza, although it is also<br />

extremely difficult to know precisely where to draw the line between excessive<br />

pleasures and “fallen” behavior:<br />

What wond’rous Life in this I lead!<br />

Ripe Apples drop about my head;<br />

The Luscious Clusters of the Vine<br />

Upon my Mouth do crush their Wine;<br />

The Nectaren, and curious Peach,<br />

Into my hands themselves do reach;<br />

Stumbling on Melons, as I pass,<br />

Insnar’d with Flow’rs, I fall on Grass.<br />

266

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