Mirror of Tomorrow :: Poetry Time: 17 October 2009—La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats

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Poetry Time: 17 October 2009—La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats

by RY Deshpande on Sat 17 Oct 2009 03:30 AM IST | Permanent Link | Cosmos

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
'I love thee true'.

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

This is the original version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, Wednesday 21 April 1819

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gaz'd and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes—
So kiss'd to sleep.

And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cry'd—"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.

And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

This is the published version of La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1820.

The original version was altered upon publication; “we do not know who did it.”

Wikipedia has the following:

La Belle Dame sans Merci (French: "The Beautiful Lady without Pity") is a ballad written by the English poet John Keats. It exists in two versions, with minor differences between them. The original was written by Keats in 1819, although the title is that of a fifteenth century poem by Alain Chartier.

The poem describes the encounter between an unnamed knight and a mysterious woman who is said to be "a faery's child". It opens with a description of the knight in a barren landscape, "haggard" and "woe-begone". He tells the reader how he met a beautiful lady whose "eyes were wild"; he set her on his horse and she took him to her "elfin grot", where she "wept, and sigh'd full sore". Falling asleep, the knight had a vision of "pale kings and princes", who cried, "La Belle Dame sans Merci hath thee in thrall!" He awoke to find himself on the same "cold hill's side" after which he continues to wait and "palely loitering".

Although La Belle Dame Sans Merci is short (only twelve stanzas of four lines each, with an ABCB rhyme scheme), it is full of enigmas. Because the knight is associated with images of death—a lily (a symbol of death in Western culture), paleness, "fading", "wither[ing]"—he may well be dead himself at the time of the story. He is clearly doomed to remain on the hillside, but the cause of this fate is unknown. A straightforward reading suggests that the Belle Dame entraps him, along the lines of tales like Thomas the Rhymer or Tam Lin. To continue, as knights are usually bound to vows of sexual chastity, the poem may imply that this knight is doubly compromised—and, actually, now enchanted—as he dallies here with an ethereal creature.

La Bell Dame Sans Merci

'John Keats alias Junkets': Keats's signature from a letter to Leigh Hunt, 1817

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Phx7Emktmj4

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Re: Poetry Time: 17 October 2009—La Belle Dam sans Merci by John Keats

by Srikant on Mon 19 Oct 2009 11:31 PM IST | Profile | Permanent Link

This was a poem that we had studied in the 60's. However, one of the question that emerged while discussion was who is this knight and who this Belle Dame Sans Merci ?
The knight probably represents the highest, the best, the great among men - the one who fights for the cause of truth, beauty, good eternally ! Thus he desires for the perfect beauty, he even manages to find her in the midst of his errands in the moors. But man is an imperfect being. He cannot hold on to the perfection. She slips from his hands like Urvasi escaped from the grip of Pururavas the legendary Indian famous king who fought in the heavens to help gods.

Re: Re: Poetry Time: 17 October 2009—La Belle Dam sans Merci by John Keats

by RY Deshpande on Wed 21 Oct 2009 04:56 AM IST | Profile | Permanent Link

This is exquisite. The following about Keats is from Sri Aurobindo’s The Future Poetry:

Keats is the first entire artist in word and rhythm in English poetry, —not grandiose, classical and derived like Milton, but direct and original in his artistry, he begins a new era. His astonishing early performance leaves us wondering what might have been the masterpieces of his prime, of which even Hyperion and the Odes are only the unfulfilled promise. His death in the beginning of his powers is the greatest loss ever suffered by human achievement in this field. Alone of all the chief poets of his time he is in possession of a perfect or almost perfected instrument of his native temperament and genius, but he had not yet found the thing he had to say, not yet seen what he was striving to see. All the other high things that interested his great equals, had for him no interest; one godhead only he worshipped, the image of divine Beauty, and through this alone he wished to see Truth and by her to achieve spiritual delight and not so much freedom as completeness. And he saw her in three of her four forms, sensuous beauty, imaginative beauty, intellectual and ideal beauty. But it is the first only which he had entirely expressed when his thread was cut short in its beginning; the second he had carried far, but it was not yet full-orbed; towards the third and highest he was only striving, “to philosophise he dared not yet”, but it was forum the first the real sense and goal of his genius.

So, we may say that La Belle Dame Sans Merci belongs to the first category of search for Beauty. No wonder it has the Urvasian hue and scent, of the sensuous.

~ RYD

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