St Andrew's Day 2018: In Memoriam

On the anniversary of my dear mother's death on Wednesday 30 November 1977, I am reposting the following to commemorate a remarkable woman: Christina (née MacDonald of Clanranald, 10 February 1909)

I was living in Cambridge during this sad time. For no particular reason that I can recall, I felt an urge to make the train journey across country to pay a visit to my mother. I prepared the following poem en route, not knowing that my mother would depart this world only a matter of days after my arrival. She was sitting near the fireside when I saw her, nursing a hot water bottle. I explained that I had a poem to read to her and I could see that she was listening intently. When I had finished, she said: 'Well, how lovely!' She then retired to her bedroom and never left her bed again before her death a few days later.

Kirsty bheag is the Scots Gaelic for 'little Kirsty'. She was called 'little' to distinguish her from her mother, who was also called Kirsty. I completed the pen and ink drawing of the boat (21cm x 21cm) several years later and named it 'Kirsty' in honour of my mother. RIP.

Alone sate she

Kirsty. PB c1984

Alone sate she in soft and muted shade,
A fairy child of woodland ferns and flowers,
A slender sylph from Spring's most sacred glade,
A smiling sprite of silent, scented bowers.

Her careless hair was gold as sun-gold corn,
In breeze-blessed streams and tresses lightly flowing;
Her eyes were the smiling blue of a sky-blue morn,
Her cheeks with cheerest roses ever-glowing.



Withal a shape so supple, slim and svelte
As like a willow-sapling's lithely grace;
A light and happy spirit therein dwelt,
Whose dancing smiles did play upon her face.

Upon her lap an open book she lay,
Whose lines she scanned with fond and eager gaze;
Then 'loud the alien words she 'gan to say,
In heart to grave for all her mortal days.

Alone sate she, this darling Highland child,
In woods, in fields, by many a mountain stream;
But now in time long-lived to old age mild,
Of these her girlhood joys she doth but dream.

Envoi

Learn friends, this fairest She, she is no other
Than my own dear, *beloved mother.*
 © PB 1977

**An alternative ending uses 'Eternal Mother'.

Kirsty Bheag

I was living in Cambridge during this sad time. For no particular reason that I can recall, I felt an urge to make the train journey across country to pay a visit to my mother. I prepared the following poem en route, not knowing that my mother would depart this world only a matter of days after my arrival. She was sitting near the fireside when I saw her, nursing a hot water bottle. I explained that I had a poem to read to her and I could see that she was listening intently. When I had finished, she said: 'Well, how lovely!' She then retired to her bedroom and never left her bed again before her death a few days later.

Kirsty bheag is the Scots Gaelic for 'little Kirsty'. She was called 'little' to distinguish her from her mother, who was also called Kirsty. I completed the pen and ink drawing of the boat (21cm x 21cm) several years later and named it 'Kirsty' in honour of my mother. RIP.

Alone sate she

Kirsty. PB c1984

Alone sate she in soft and muted shade,
A fairy child of woodland ferns and flowers,
A slender sylph from Spring's most sacred glade,
A smiling sprite of silent, scented bowers.

Her careless hair was gold as sun-gold corn,
In breeze-blessed streams and tresses lightly flowing;
Her eyes were the smiling blue of a sky-blue morn,
Her cheeks with cheerest roses ever-glowing.

Withal a shape so supple, slim and svelte
As like a willow-sapling's lithely grace;
A light and happy spirit therein dwelt,
Whose dancing smiles did play upon her face.

Upon her lap an open book she lay,
Whose lines she scanned with fond and eager gaze;
Then 'loud the alien words she 'gan to say,
In heart to grave for all her mortal days.

Alone sate she, this darling Highland child,
In woods, in fields, by many a mountain stream;
But now in time long-lived to old age mild,
Of these her girlhood joys she doth but dream.

Envoi

Learn friends, this fairest She, she is no other
Than my own dear, *beloved mother.*
 © PB 1977

**An alternative ending uses 'Eternal Mother'.

© PB 1977

Saint Peters Complaynte

I have posted another poem here under Family first posted on my other site, Mary's English Dowry.

Peter's Tears. After El Greco.

Peter's denial of Christ through fear would have a particular relevance and poignancy in sixteenth century England when a tyrannical regime, determined to eradicate Catholicism, was determined to use fear as a weapon against Catholics remaining faithful to their baptismal vows. His repentance speaks powerfully to any of us who have fallen into sins of betrayal. 

The poem is in Elizabethan English and I have retained the copy MS idiosyncrasies in spelling, punctuation and syntax, mitigated by fairly detailed end notes.The 12 stanzas are a shorter and earlier version of a later 132 stanza version, first printed in 1595.

Both deede and dome to have deserved blame

I am posting here a poem (with annotations) which forms part of a study of Robert Southwell on a sister blog, Mary's English Dowry. I will include it under the Family tab on this site because of the particular relevance it has.

Davids Peccavi

In eaves sole sparowe sitts not more alone
Nor mourning Pelican in desert wilde
Then sely I that solitary mone
From highest hopes to hardest happ exild
Sometime o blissfull tyme was vertues meede [5]
Ayme to my thoughtes guide to my word and deede.

But feares now are my pheares grief my delight
My teares my drinke my famisht thoughtes my bredd
Day full of Dumpes nurce of unrest the nighte
My garmentes gives a bloody feild my bedd [10]
My sleape is rather death then deathes allye
Yet kild eith murdring pangues I cannot dye

This is the change of my ill changed choise
Ruth for my rest, for comforts cares I finde
To pleasinge tunes succeedes a playninge voyce [15]
The doleful Eccho of my waylinge minde
Which taught to know the worth of Vertues joyes
Doth hate it self for lovinge phancies toyes.

If wiles of witt had overwrought my will,
Or sutle traynes misledd my steppes awrye [20]
My foyle had founde excuse in want of skill,
Ill deede I might though not ill dome denye.
But witt and will muste nowe confesse with shame,
Both deede and dome to have deserved blame

I phancy deem'd fitt guide to leade my waie [25]
And as I deem'd I did pursue her track
Witt lost his ayme and will was phancie's pray
The rebell wonne the ruler went to wracke.
But now sith phancye did with follye end,
Witt bought with losse will taught by witt will mend. [30]

Notes

[Title] Davids Peccavi: 'peccavi' means 'I have sinned'. David, second king of Israel, fell into the sins of adultery with Bathsheba and the murder of Urias, her husband. His contrition was so sincere that God pardoned him. His example and his words as handed down in several psalms have served as a model and inspiration for all penitents.

[ll1-2] sole sparowe/Pelican: Sparrows are invariably found in busy little flocks, interacting with each other. A lone sparrow would accordingly be very miserable in his solitude, deprived of the presence of his fellows. Similarly, a pelican is a water bird and would be miserable in the waterless desert, mourning the absence of his river or pond. There is also here a reference here to a prayer for one in affliction: the fifth penitential psalm.

[7] I am become like to a pelican of the wilderness: I am like a night raven in the house. [8] I have watched, and am become as a sparrow all alone on the housetop. [Psalm 101]

[l3] sely: Deserving of pity or sympathy; pitiable, miserable, ‘poor’; helpless, defenceless. 1551   R. Robinson tr. T. More Vtopia sig. Rviii   But thies seilie poore wretches be presently tormented with barreyne & vnfrutefull labour.

[l3] mone: intransitive. To lament, grieve, moan, mourn.

[l4] happ: The chance or fortune that falls to a person; (one's) luck, lot; (also) an instance of this. Frequently modified by good (also bad, evil, etc.). 1591   Troublesome Raigne Iohn i. sig. D3v   'No redresse to salue our awkward haps.'

[l5] meede: meed - In early use: something given in return for labour or service; wages, hire; recompense, reward, deserts; a gift. Later: a reward or prize given for excellence or achievement; a person's deserved share of (praise, honour, etc.). Now literary and arch. 1590   Spenser Faerie Queene i. ii. sig. B8   A Rosy girlond was the victors meede.

[ll5-6]: There was formerly a time (oh happy time!) when the aim of my thoughts and the guide of words and actions was to obtain the prize of virtue.

[l7] pheares: fere - A companion, comrade, mate, partner; whether male or female;

[l9] Dumpes: A fit of melancholy or depression; now only in plural: Heaviness of mind, dejection, low spirits. A mournful or plaintive melody or song;

[l9] nurce: nurse - That which nourishes or fosters some quality, condition, etc. Also: a place that nurtures or produces people of a specified type. Now literary and rare. 1526   W. Bonde Pylgrimage of Perfection iii. sig. CCiiii   Obedience..is the helthe of faithfull soules, the nourse of all vertue.

[l10] gives: gyves - A shackle, esp. for the leg; a fetter. 1600   E. Fairfax tr. Tasso Godfrey of Bulloigne v. xlii. 83   Hands..Not to be tide in giues and twisted cords.

[l11] allye:  A relative, a relation; a kinsman or kinswoman. Now chiefly hist.1597   Shakespeare Romeo & Juliet iii. i. 109   This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie.

[l13] change:  There are several senses available, eg: 1) The action of substituting one thing for another. 2) Death, considered as a substitution of one state of existence for another. Obsolete.1611   Bible (King James) Job xiv. 14   All the dayes of my appointed time will I waite, till my change come. 3) The balance that is returned to the buyer when something is paid for with an amount greater than its price. The misery described in the second stanza is the result of replacing 'vertues joyes' (l15) with his sinful desires. This change has led to the death of his former peace of mind. Finally, in exchanging (paying) virtue's prize to obtain his lust's desire, he receives by way of change the misery he describes.

[l14] Ruth: Matter for sorrow or regret; occasion of sorrow or regret. Obsolete.Mischief; calamity; ruin. Obsolete.Sorrow, grief, distress; lamentation. Obsolete. 1591   Spenser tr. Petrarch Visions ii, in Complaints sig. Z2   O how great ruth and sorrowfull assay, Doth vex my spirite with perplexitie.

[l15] playninge: That plains; plaintive, mourning, lamenting; (formerly also) †expressing a grievance, uttering a complaint (obsolete).

[l16] waylinge: wailing, expressing lamentation.

[l19] witt: The faculty of thinking and reasoning in general; mental capacity, understanding, intellect, reason. arch. 1600 Shakespeare Midsummer Night's Dream iv. i. 203   I haue had a dreame, past the wit of man, to say; what dreame it was.

[l20] sutle: Of behaviour, words, an action, etc.: characterized by slyness or treachery; intended to deceive, delude, or entrap someone.

[l20] traynes:  train - Treachery, guile, deceit, trickery; prevarication. An act or scheme designed to deceive or entrap, a trick, stratagem, artifice, wile. Also: a lie, a false story.  A trap or snare for catching wild animals. Also in figurative contexts. Now rare (arch. and poet. in later use). 1590   Spenser Faerie Queene i. vi. sig. F5   Thou cursed Miscreaunt, That hast with knightlesse guile and trecherous train Faire knighthood fowly shamed. 

[l21] foyle: A repulse, defeat in an onset or enterprise; A disgrace, stigma.

[l22] dome: Personal or private judgement, opinion.The faculty of judging; judgement, discrimination, discernment. Obsolete.

[l25] phancy: Delusive imagination; hallucination; an illusion of the senses. Caprice, changeful mood; an instance of this, a caprice, a whim. Amorous inclination, love. Obs. 1600   Shakespeare Merchant of Venice iii. ii. 63   Tell me where is fancie bred.  ‘Something that pleases or entertains’ (Johnson).
Word order: 'I judged (my) fancy a fit guide to lead my way.'

[l26] her: 'phancy' or the object of his fancy (for David, Bathsheba).

[l27] pray: prey

[l28] wracke:  Damage, disaster, or injury to a person, state, etc., by reason of force, outrage, or violence; devastation, destruction.

[l29] sith: since

[l30]: One possible paraphrase is: I have paid dearly for greater understanding ('wit') through my loss (allowing sin victory); my will has been instructed by this understanding; (and so) my will and my wit will mend.
According to traditional teaching, the three powers of the soul are: memory, understanding ('wit') and will.

Hermann the Cripple and Christopher Nolan

I had never heard of Hermann until coming across a reference to him in a a talk by Father Patrick Henry Reardon (a priest of the Antiochian Orthodox Christian Archdiocese of North America).

Hermann (1013-1054) was a chronicler, mathematician, and poet. The son of of a Count, he was a cripple from birth (hence 'Contractus'). He had a cleft palate, cerebral palsy and was powerless to move without assistance. It was only by the greatest effort that he was able to read and write, having only three working fingers on one hand. He was educated on the Monastic Island of Reichenau in Lake Constance (south-west Germany).

He took the monastic vows in 1043, and seems to have spent the rest of his life there. Despite his handicaps and losing his sight towards the end of his life, he was to excel in theology, mathematics, astronomy, music, Latin, Greek, and Arabic. He is the author of the earliest of the medieval universal chronicles. Hermann also wrote mathematico-astronomical works and  he constructed astronomical and musical instruments. He also composed religious hymns and is credited with the authorship of the Alma Redemptoris Mater and the Salve Regina.

His story reminds me of someone I discovered in the early 1980s, Christopher Nolan (1965-2005). Nolan was born with cerebral palsy, and could only move his head and eyes. Due to the severity of the palsy, he used a wheelchair. He was placed on medication that relaxed him so he could use a pointer attached to his head to type. Nolan used a special computer and keyboard; in order to help him type, his mother held his head in her cupped hands while Christopher painstakingly picked out each word, letter by letter, with a pointer attached to his forehead. At the age of fifteen, he published his collection of poems titled Dam-Burst of Dreams. He wrote an account of his childhood, Under the Eye of the Clock, published by St. Martin's Press, which won him the UK's Whitbread Book of the Year Award in 1987 at the age of 21.