'Strayed Reveller, The' by Matthew Arnold
AI and Tech Aggregator
Download Mp3s Free
Tears of the Kingdom Roleplay
Best Free University Courses Online
TOTK Roleplay
The Youth
Faster, faster,
O Circe, Goddess,
Let the wild, thronging train
The bright procession
Of eddying forms,
Sweep through my soul!
Thou standest, smiling
Down on me! thy right arm,
Lean'd up against the column there,
Props thy soft cheek;
Thy left holds, hanging loosely,
The deep cup, ivy-cinctured,
I held but now.
Is it, then, evening
So soon? I see, the night-dews,
Cluster'd in thick beads, dim
The agate brooch-stones
On thy white shoulder;
The cool night-wind, too,
Blows through the portico,
Stirs thy hair, Goddess,
Waves thy white robe!
Circe.
Whence art thou, sleeper?
The Youth.
When the white dawn first
Through the rough fir-planks
Of my hut, by the chestnuts,
Up at the valley-head,
Came breaking, Goddess!
I sprang up, I threw round me
My dappled fawn-skin;
Passing out, from the wet turf,
Where they lay, by the hut door,
I snatch'd up my vine-crown, my fir-staff,
All drench'd in dew-
Came swift down to join
The rout early gather'd
In the town, round the temple,
Iacchus' white fane
On yonder hill.
Quick I pass'd, following
The wood-cutters' cart-track
Down the dark valley;-I saw
On my left, through the beeches,
Thy palace, Goddess,
Smokeless, empty!
Trembling, I enter'd; beheld
The court all silent,
The lions sleeping,
On the altar this bowl.
I drank, Goddess!
And sank down here, sleeping,
On the steps of thy portico.
Circe.
Foolish boy! Why tremblest thou?
Thou lovest it, then, my wine?
Wouldst more of it? See, how glows,
Through the delicate, flush'd marble,
The red, creaming liquor,
Strown with dark seeds!
Drink, thee! I chide thee not,
Deny thee not my bowl.
Come, stretch forth thy hand, thee-so!
Drink-drink again!
The Youth.
Thanks, gracious one!
Ah, the sweet fumes again!
More soft, ah me,
More subtle-winding
Than Pan's flute-music!
Faint-faint! Ah me,
Again the sweet sleep!
Circe.
Hist! Thou-within there!
Come forth, Ulysses!
Art tired with hunting?
While we range the woodland,
See what the day brings.
Ulysses.
Ever new magic!
Hast thou then lured hither,
Wonderful Goddess, by thy art,
The young, languid-eyed Ampelus,
Iacchus' darling-
Or some youth beloved of Pan,
Of Pan and the Nymphs?
That he sits, bending downward
His white, delicate neck
To the ivy-wreathed marge
Of thy cup; the bright, glancing vine-leaves
That crown his hair,
Falling forward, mingling
With the dark ivy-plants--
His fawn-skin, half untied,
Smear'd with red wine-stains? Who is he,
That he sits, overweigh'd
By fumes of wine and sleep,
So late, in thy portico?
What youth, Goddess,-what guest
Of Gods or mortals?
Circe.
Hist! he wakes!
I lured him not hither, Ulysses.
Nay, ask him!
The Youth.
Who speaks' Ah, who comes forth
To thy side, Goddess, from within?
How shall I name him?
This spare, dark-featured,
Quick-eyed stranger?
Ah, and I see too
His sailor's bonnet,
His short coat, travel-tarnish'd,
With one arm bare!--
Art thou not he, whom fame
This long time rumours
The favour'd guest of Circe, brought by the waves?
Art thou he, stranger?
The wise Ulysses,
Laertes' son?
Ulysses.
I am Ulysses.
And thou, too, sleeper?
Thy voice is sweet.
It may be thou hast follow'd
Through the islands some divine bard,
By age taught many things,
Age and the Muses;
And heard him delighting
The chiefs and people
In the banquet, and learn'd his songs.
Of Gods and Heroes,
Of war and arts,
And peopled cities,
Inland, or built
By the gray sea.-If so, then hail!
I honour and welcome thee.
The Youth.
The Gods are happy.
They turn on all sides
Their shining eyes,
And see below them
The earth and men.
They see Tiresias
Sitting, staff in hand,
On the warm, grassy
Asopus bank,
His robe drawn over
His old sightless head,
Revolving inly
The doom of Thebes.
They see the Centaurs
In the upper glens
Of Pelion, in the streams,
Where red-berried ashes fringe
The clear-brown shallow pools,
With streaming flanks, and heads
Rear'd proudly, snuffing
The mountain wind.
They see the Indian
Drifting, knife in hand,
His frail boat moor'd to
A floating isle thick-matted
With large-leaved, low-creeping melon-plants
And the dark cucumber.
He reaps, and stows them,
Drifting--drifting;--round him,
Round his green harvest-plot,
Flow the cool lake-waves,
The mountains ring them.
They see the Scythian
On the wide stepp, unharnessing
His wheel'd house at noon.
He tethers his beast down, and makes his meal--
Mares' milk, and bread
Baked on the embers;--all around
The boundless, waving grass-plains stretch, thick-starr'd
With saffron and the yellow hollyhock
And flag-leaved iris-flowers.
Sitting in his cart
He makes his meal; before him, for long miles,
Alive with bright green lizards,
And the springing bustard-fowl,
The track, a straight black line,
Furrows the rich soil; here and there
Cluster of lonely mounds
Topp'd with rough-hewn,
Gray, rain-blear'd statues, overpeer
The sunny waste.
They see the ferry
On the broad, clay-laden
Lone Chorasmian stream;--thereon,
With snort and strain,
Two horses, strongly swimming, tow
The ferry-boat, with woven ropes
To either bow
Firm harness'd by the mane; a chief
With shout and shaken spear,
Stands at the prow, and guides them; but astern
The cowering merchants, in long robes,
Sit pale beside their wealth
Of silk-bales and of balsam-drops,
Of gold and ivory,
Of turquoise-earth and amethyst,
Jasper and chalcedony,
And milk-barred onyx-stones.
The loaded boat swings groaning
In the yellow eddies;
The Gods behold him.
They see the Heroes
Sitting in the dark ship
On the foamless, long-heaving
Violet sea.
At sunset nearing
The Happy Islands.
These things, Ulysses,
The wise bards, also
Behold and sing.
But oh, what labour!
O prince, what pain!
They too can see
Tiresias;--but the Gods,
Who give them vision,
Added this law:
That they should bear too
His groping blindness,
His dark foreboding,
His scorn'd white hairs;
Bear Hera's anger
Through a life lengthen'd
To seven ages.
They see the Centaurs
On Pelion:--then they feel,
They too, the maddening wine
Swell their large veins to bursting; in wild pain
They feel the biting spears
Of the grim Lapithæ, and Theseus, drive,
Drive crashing through their bones; they feel
High on a jutting rock in the red stream
Alcmena's dreadful son
Ply his bow;--such a price
The Gods exact for song:
To become what we sing.
They see the Indian
On his mountain lake; but squalls
Make their skiff reel, and worms
In the unkind spring have gnawn
Their melon-harvest to the heart.--They see
The Scythian: but long frosts
Parch them in winter-time on the bare stepp,
Till they too fade like grass; they crawl
Like shadows forth in spring.
They see the merchants
On the Oxus stream;--but care
Must visit first them too, and make them pale.
Whether, through whirling sand,
A cloud of desert robber-horse have burst
Upon their caravan; or greedy kings,
In the wall'd cities the way passes through,
Crush'd them with tolls; or fever-airs,
On some great river's marge,
Mown them down, far from home.
They see the Heroes
Near harbour;--but they share
Their lives, and former violent toil in Thebes,
Seven-gated Thebes, or Troy;
Or where the echoing oars
Of Argo first
Startled the unknown sea.
The old Silenus
Came, lolling in the sunshine,
From the dewy forest-coverts,
This way at noon.
Sitting by me, while his Fauns
Down at the water-side
Sprinkled and smoothed
His drooping garland,
He told me these things.
But I, Ulysses,
Sitting on the warm steps,
Looking over the valley,
All day long, have seen,
Without pain, without labour,
Sometimes a wild-hair'd Mænad--
Sometimes a Faun with torches--
And sometimes, for a moment,
Passing through the dark stems
Flowing-robed, the beloved,
The desired, the divine,
Beloved Iacchus.
Ah, cool night-wind, tremulous stars!
Ah, glimmering water,
Fitful earth-murmur,
Dreaming woods!
Ah, golden-haired, strangely smiling Goddess,
And thou, proved, much enduring,
Wave-toss'd Wanderer!
Who can stand still?
Ye fade, ye swim, ye waver before me--
The cup again!
Faster, faster,
O Circe, Goddess.
Let the wild, thronging train,
The bright procession
Of eddying forms,
Sweep through my soul!
Editor 1 Interpretation
Matthew Arnold's "Strayed Reveller": A Critical Interpretation
Matthew Arnold's "Strayed Reveller" is a poem that defies easy interpretation. It is a complex and multi-layered work that touches on a wide range of themes, including religion, mythology, love, and the struggle for self-discovery. In this essay, we will attempt to explore some of the key themes and motifs in the poem, and to offer a critical interpretation of its meaning.
The Strayed Reveller
The poem opens with a description of a reveller who has strayed from the rest of the party. We are told that he has wandered into the woods, where he is now lost and alone. The reveller is described as a figure of beauty and grace, but also of sadness and longing. He is like a "starry night," full of mystery and wonder, but also of pain and despair.
As we read on, we begin to see that the reveller is not just a physical figure, but also a symbol of something deeper. He represents the human soul, lost and wandering in a world that is often confusing and disorienting. He stands for all of us who feel lost and alone, searching for meaning and purpose in our lives.
The World of Myth
One of the most striking features of "Strayed Reveller" is its use of mythology. Throughout the poem, we encounter a host of characters from Greek mythology, including Bacchus, Ariadne, and Silenus. These figures are not just added for decorative effect, but play a vital role in the poem's overall meaning.
Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry, is a particularly important figure in the poem. He represents the life force, the passionate energy that drives us forward in our quest for happiness and fulfillment. Bacchus is also associated with excess and intoxication, reminding us of the dangers of pursuing pleasure without restraint.
Ariadne, on the other hand, represents the voice of reason and wisdom. She is the one who helps the lost reveller find his way back to the party, and thus back to the world of human society. Her presence reminds us that there is more to life than just individual pleasure-seeking, and that we need to find our place within the larger social order.
Love and Longing
Another important theme in "Strayed Reveller" is the theme of love and longing. The poem is filled with images of desire and yearning, as the reveller wanders through the woods in search of something he cannot name.
At times, the poem seems to be a celebration of love and passion, as the reveller revels in the beauty of the world around him. But at other times, a note of sadness and despair creeps in, as the reveller realizes that he is alone and lost in a world that is often cruel and indifferent.
Ultimately, the poem seems to suggest that love and longing are essential parts of the human experience, but that they must be tempered with wisdom and self-restraint. We need to find a way to balance our desire for pleasure and fulfillment with our responsibilities to others and to society as a whole.
Conclusion
In conclusion, "Strayed Reveller" is a rich and complex poem that offers a powerful meditation on some of the deepest themes of human existence. Through its use of mythology, imagery, and language, the poem explores the struggle for self-discovery, the search for meaning and purpose in life, and the tension between individual desire and social responsibility.
As we read the poem, we are struck by its beauty and its power, but also by its honesty and its vulnerability. It reminds us that we are all wanderers in a strange and mysterious world, searching for something we cannot name. But it also reminds us that we are not alone, and that we can find our way back to the party, and to the world of human society, if we are guided by wisdom and love.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
The Strayed Reveller: A Masterpiece of Matthew Arnold
Matthew Arnold, one of the most celebrated poets of the Victorian era, is known for his profound and insightful poetry. His works are characterized by their philosophical depth, their melancholic tone, and their exploration of the human condition. Among his most famous poems is The Strayed Reveller, a haunting and evocative piece that captures the essence of the Romantic movement while also reflecting Arnold's own unique perspective.
The Strayed Reveller is a narrative poem that tells the story of a young man who wanders through a forest in search of a revelry. The poem is divided into two parts, each of which explores a different aspect of the young man's journey. In the first part, the young man is depicted as a carefree and joyous figure, reveling in the beauty of nature and the pleasures of life. He dances and sings, and his heart is filled with a sense of freedom and abandon.
However, as the poem progresses, the young man's mood begins to change. He becomes more introspective and contemplative, and his thoughts turn to the deeper questions of life. He begins to question the nature of reality, the meaning of existence, and the purpose of his own life. He realizes that the revelry he sought was only a fleeting illusion, and that true happiness can only be found through a deeper understanding of oneself and the world.
The Strayed Reveller is a masterpiece of poetry, and its themes and imagery are rich and complex. One of the most striking aspects of the poem is its use of nature imagery. Arnold uses the forest as a metaphor for the human mind, with its tangled undergrowth and hidden paths representing the complexities of the human psyche. The young man's journey through the forest is thus a metaphor for his own journey of self-discovery, as he navigates the twists and turns of his own mind in search of meaning and purpose.
Another important theme of the poem is the tension between the Romantic and Victorian worldviews. The young man's initial joy and abandon are characteristic of the Romantic movement, with its emphasis on emotion, imagination, and individualism. However, as the poem progresses, the young man's mood becomes more melancholic and introspective, reflecting the more sober and rational worldview of the Victorian era. Arnold thus uses the poem to explore the tension between these two worldviews, and to suggest that true happiness can only be found through a synthesis of the two.
The Strayed Reveller is also notable for its use of language and imagery. Arnold's poetry is characterized by its musicality and its use of vivid and evocative imagery. The poem is filled with rich and complex metaphors, such as the forest as a metaphor for the human mind, and the revelry as a metaphor for the illusions of life. Arnold's use of language is also highly musical, with a rhythm and cadence that is both hypnotic and haunting.
In conclusion, The Strayed Reveller is a masterpiece of poetry that captures the essence of the Romantic movement while also reflecting Arnold's own unique perspective. The poem is rich and complex, with themes and imagery that are both evocative and profound. Its exploration of the tension between the Romantic and Victorian worldviews, and its use of nature imagery and musical language, make it a timeless work of art that continues to resonate with readers today.
Editor Recommended Sites
Open Models: Open source models for large language model fine tuning, and machine learning classificationEmerging Tech: Emerging Technology - large Language models, Latent diffusion, AI neural networks, graph neural networks, LLM reasoning systems, ontology management for LLMs, Enterprise healthcare Fine tuning for LLMs
Javascript Rocks: Learn javascript, typescript. Integrate chatGPT with javascript, typescript
Low Code Place: Low code and no code best practice, tooling and recommendations
Prompt Chaining: Prompt chaining tooling for large language models. Best practice and resources for large language mode operators
Recommended Similar Analysis
Any Wife To Any Husband by Robert Browning analysisNobody knows this little Rose by Emily Dickinson analysis
I dreaded that first Robin, so by Emily Dickinson analysis
My Father's Love Letters by Yusef Komunyakaa analysis
If Death Is Kind by Sarah Teasdale analysis
Without warning by Sappho analysis
One Way Of Love by Robert Browning analysis
Epitaphium Erotii by Robert Louis Stevenson analysis
Death by William Butler Yeats analysis
The Lady's Dressing Room by Jonathan Swift analysis