3.5 Literary Renaissances

We are about to explore Renaissance traditions in literature. That means reading some poetry. Remember our tips for keeping your head above water reading verse.

  • Read aloud, listening for rhythms, patterns.
  • Recognize the plain sense of the words before looking for hidden meanings.
  • Who talks to whom about what? Clearly seeing this dynamic can open many poems.
  • Track themes and patterns of meaning that flow from the above.

The Renaissance also transformed literature. Patrons of the visual arts such as the Medici also patronized scholarship and literature which drew on the newly re-discovered Classical tradition. The great poets of the day emulated Greek epics and absorbed Greek myths. Yet these literary Renaissances looked forward as well as back.

Francesco Petrarch was an Italian scholar, philosopher, and historian. He was also a poet who, along with his contemporary Dante, reached a wide audience by doing something that shocked the scholarly community who wrote everything in Latin. The two poets wrote verse in the contemporary language of Florence, the linguistic ancestor of modern Italian. Petrarch used the Vernacular  “for the representation in verse of his personal meditations on love and religion” (Petrarch). Drawing on the Courtly Love tradition, many of the poems in his Il Canzonieri dwell on a woman named Laura whom he admired from afar.

Petrarch. (1368). Sonnet VII, Il Canzonieri [1]

Those eyes, ’neath which my passionate rapture rose,
The arms, hands, feet, the beauty that erewhile
Could my own soul from its own self beguile
And in a separate world of dreams enclose,
The hair’s bright tresses, full of golden glows
And the soft lightning of the angelic smile
That changed this earth to some celestial isle,
Are now but dust, poor dust, that nothing knows.[2]

And yet I live! Myself I grieve and scorn,
Left dark without the light I loved in vain,
Adrift in tempest on a bark forlorn;
Dead is the source of all my amorous strain,
Dry is the channel of my thoughts outworn,
And my sad harp can sound but notes of pain.


[1] Our text of course is translated from the Medieval Italian by T. W. Higginson.
[2] What do we learn in this line? It’s important!


As we did last week, let’s use Rhyme Scheme Scan the poems Stanzas. What do you find?

I’ll bet it wasn’t hard for you. We see that the poem is divided into two  Stanzas:

But what does that tell us? And do you recognize this pattern?

Well, notice the title. You’ve heard the word Sonnet, but let’s clarify it as a Genre. Following Petrarch, (almost) all sonnets contain 14 lines of verse. In a Petrarchan or Italian Sonnet , the lines aredivided into an Octave (or two Quatrains) and a sestet (Sonnet).

OK, let’s track the thematic impact of this structure. In the first 8 lines, the poem’s somber voice caresses in imagination the beauty of a beloved who is apparently distant, unapproachable. Unapproachable, why? How? Well let’s look at lines 8 and 9, those that bridge the poem’s stanzas:

… Are now but dust, poor dust, that nothing knows.
And yet I live! Myself I grieve and scorn, …

Hmmm. Apparently, the beloved who is adored in the 1st two stanzas is dead, leaving the Persona alone with grief and self-loathing. The poem has made a profound Turn from a problem in the first 8 lines to a resolution, albeit a tragic one, in the final 6.

This thematically shifting Turn is a Convention more or less required in a sonnet. A theme in the first stanzas shifts to a divergent resolution. In an Italian Sonnet, “the transition from octave to sestet usually coincides with a turn (Italian, volta) in the argument or mood of the poem” (Sonnet).

When reading sonnets, recognizing the Turn injects life into the form. The boundary between the two thematic emphases helps us process its meaning and the decisive shift packs the energy of a change in direction. Don’t miss the Turn in every sonnet!

The Shakespearean Sonnet

The term English Renaissance is reserved for the literature of the Age of Queen Elizabeth (16th-17th Centuries). Several of the poets of the day tried their hand at Petrarch’s form: Michael Drayton, Sir Phillip Sydney, and, of course, Shakespeare. Being the poetic master that he was, Shakespeare decided to make a change to the Italian Sonnet form.

Shakespeare, William. [2] (1609) Sonnet 18.

Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair[3] sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


[2] For more information on Shakespeare’s poetry, see this summary discussion.
[3] Fair from fair: for Elizabethans, the word fair suggested beauty, health, moral correctness, and a light coloring, especially of skin

OK, let’s see if we can track Shakespeare’s variation on the Genre. Like Petrarch, he composes 14 lines. But his stanzas break down differently:

Why the structural shift? Well, Shakespeare moves the Turn to the final couplet. This compresses the impact of the thematic shift, giving it the impact of a comic’s punchline.

Now let’s unpack the themes of the sonnet. The poem’s Persona addresses Thou, obviously a beloved. In the tradition of Courtly Love verse, the poem finds that the beloved’s beauty is superior to that of a summer’s day. Standard stuff, right?

But wait. The comparisons seem to make impossible promises. The beloved’s beauties will outlast those of the world. How on earth (!) can the poem promise this? After all, as is lamented in art throughout time, human beauty decays and perishes. Let’s consider that killer couplet:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

This poet offers the beloved something unique: a form of immortality. Her physical beauty may fade as she succumbs to mortality. But its fame will live on forever in the poem that commemorates it. Arrogant? Perhaps. But in Shakespeare’s case, no idle boast. The sonnet has lasted, now, over four centuries. 

Shakespeare’s English Sonnet form uses structural imbalance to multiply the power of its thematic Turn: twelve lines over and against two lines with the impact of a punchline. The compression of that stinger Couplet packs more punch than the leisurely reflection of a final sestet in an Italian Sonnet.

Figures of Speech and the Sonnet Tradition

In English poetry, the sonnet has proven to be flexible and tenacious. Many great poets have composed sonnets: Milton (17th Century), 19th Century Romantics—Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats—, 20th Century innovators like e. e. cummings. Let’s sample three very different sonneteers. As we approach these poems, let’s explore some dimensions of rhetorical impact:

 

Figurative Language

Figure of Speech: a form of expression in which language departs from conventional norms for maximum rhetorical effect:

  1. Figures of Scheme: a figurative pattern of expression that deviates from conventional arrangements of sound and sense through repetition or contrast
  2. Tropes: figures of speech that play on meaning so that implied messages differ from the ordinary sense of the expressions

Note: popular usage today uses the term trope to refer to a common expression or theme. Traditionally, the term refers to figures of speech that play with and alter the meaning of language.

Analysts count scores of rhetorical figures. Mercifully, we’ll just look at a few Tropes that are central to reading poetry.

Three Poetic Tropes

Simile: a trope that explicitly compares a “literal” with a “figurative” term, usually indicating the comparison with like or as: e.g. “I wandered lonely as a cloud  (William Wordsworth, “Daffodils,” 1807)

Metaphor: a trope in which language denotes a “non-literal” thing, idea, or action to characterize a “real” term. E.g. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players” (William Shakespeare, As You Like It, 1599).

Paradox: a trope in which two terms in a statement seem contradictory but suggest an elusive point: e.g.: “the child is father of the man (William Wordsworth, “My Heart Leaps Up, 1802)

John Donne

Oliver, Isaac. (before 1622). Portrait of John Donne.

John Donne (1572–1631) was a widely travelled courtier and diplomat for Queen Elizabeth who composed knotty, sometimes amorous verse. At 49, he became a Dean of London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral, composing devotions on mortality and religious verses called Holy Sonnets. For a century or so, Donne has been a favorite with literature teachers for thorny, hard-to-follow verse that can drive students batty. Indeed, Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great 18th Century critic, complained about metaphysical poets (Dr. Johnson’s term) like Donne:

The most heterogeneous ideas are yoked by violence together; nature and art are ransacked for illustrations, comparisons, and allusions; their learning instructs, and their subtilty[4] surprises; but … though [readers] sometimes admire, they are seldom pleased (Johnson).


[4] Subtilty: 18th Century spelling of subtlety.

So, have I scared you off? You’re brave, right? Let’s tackle one of Donne’s thorniest Holy Sonnets. Maybe this reading will help:

John Donne, Holly Sonnet, #10.

Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;[5]
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurp’d[6] town to another due,
Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy[7] in me, me should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,[8]
But am betroth’d unto your enemy;
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall[9] me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish[10] me.


[5] But knock: Compare Revelation 3.20, Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.
[6] Usurp’d: i.e. usurped, another way of saying a city under siege by an enemy.
[7] Viceroy: a governor ruling on behalf of a king
[8] Fain: i.e. gladly willing
[9] Enthrall: i.e. enslaved
[10] Ravished: in this case, raped

So, which is this: an Italian Sonnet or a Shakespearian Sonnet? I’ll bet you can tell!

The footnotes point up the difference in diction separating us from the Age of Elizabeth. Still, even with the glosses provided, can we make sense of this challenging text? Before looking for secret codes, start on a small scale. Who is talking to whom? About what?

“Batter my heart, three-person’d God”—clearly, the poem’s voice directly addresses the Trinity—the Christian God in three persons. The sonnet is a prayer. But what sort of prayer? The difficulty of the verse matches the daunting challenge that Christians have faced through the ages, articulated by the Apostle Paul:

Romans 7.14-24

For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. … For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing … What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?

Donne gives anguished voice to the great challenge of repentance: how does a person of faith break the habits of sin and rebellion and learn to obey God’s will? Donne captures the apparent impossibility of it all in a series of metaphors and paradoxes.

  • Stanza 1: God’s quiet invitations to faith seem inadequate to a sinner who feels he must be destroyed to find new life.
  • Stanza 2: the poet invokes the metaphor of a walled city laboring to admit the besieging God but remaining captive to sin.
  • Stanza 3: the metaphor is that of a would-be lover who must break the bonds of marriage to an evil spouse pleading with God to set him free by imprisoning him.
  • Final Couplet: a burning paradox—one can only be free by being enslaved to God, chaste by being “ravished.”

These metaphors and paradoxes open the sonnet and a new perspective on Romans 7. Remember: poetry uses everyday figures of speech. It just uses them more creatively!

Gerard Manly Hopkins: God’s Elusive Grandeur

 Gerard Manley Hopkins. (1918). Photograph

An Anglo-Catholic priest, Gerard Manley Hopkins felt that, as a sacrament, he should stop writing poetry. Then, in 1875, five German nuns perished aboard a sinking passenger ship, Hopkins commemorated their faith in The Wreck of the Deutschland and the poetic floodgates opened, often in sonnets.

Gerard Manley Hopkins. (1877) God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?[11]

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade;[12] bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this,[13] nature is never spent;[14]
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods[15] with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.


[11] Reck his rod: that is recognize God’s rod of authority
[12] Trade: in Victorian society, trade was the engine of economic growth, but it was nevertheless despised as a sign of social inferiority. The aristocrat and the gentleman or woman had independent means and did not dirty their hands with trade.
[13] For all this: the word for in this case means despite—even though all this is true
[14] Spent: i.e. depleted
[15] Broods: i.e. sitting protectively over unhatched eggs, as does a mother hen

The world is charged with the grandeur of God. This is Hopkins’ great theme, one easy to misread. Hopkins never writes of God’s grandeur as a glaring coat of enamel. The word “charged” should be read as elusive potentiality, a compressed, unreleased electrical force.

The first Stanza in this Sonnet poses a problem: why do men not recognize God’s glory? The striking images suggest that divine splendor only rarely emerges from hidden places. Light suddenly flashes from shaken foil. The iridescence of oil flashes only as it gathers “to a greatness” before dropping. One must have faithful eyes to catch these glimpses, and Stanza 2 laments the life conditions that blunt our spiritual sensitivity: the trudging, tiresome routine of life, labor and commercial trade. We can’t even feel the soil through the shoes we wear.

In Stanza 3, the Sestet, the sonnet’s Turn leads to redemption. Deep down in all things lies a “dearest freshness” connecting us to spirit. Dawn brings new life following darkness and over all lies the warm, loving protection of the Holy Ghost, the third divine member of the Christian Trinity.

Hopkins always experimented boldly with unusual metrical rhythms. Read the poem aloud or listen to the audio. Feel the force of stressed syllables. A Spondee is a foot in which both syllables are stressed: shook foil; bleared, smeared; foot feel; brown brink, world broods, warm breast, bright wings. Each spondee slows the verse and confers weight on themes.

Claude McKay

Claude McKay. (N.D.) Photographic Portrait.

Born in Jamaica, Claude McKay emigrated to Harlem and became associated with the Harlem Renaissance. As a poet, he composed in highly traditional verse forms, often the sonnet. However, unlike other writers within that movement, McKay made little effort to adopt a sophisticated cool. He raged in a full-throated roar while retaining a poet’s sense of the complexity of things.

Claude McKay (1921). “America”

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth.

Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate,
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet, as a rebel fronts a king in state,

I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,

Beneath the touch of Time’s unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

What do you think? Do you find this easier reading? How does McKay use figurative language and the structure of a Shakespearean sonnet to rage against the social forms that bind his people? How does he use numerous Metaphors to process his ambiguous relationship to the “cultured hell” which he also loves? How does he see America’s future?

References

Donne, J. Poem #74. In Holy Sonnets. (1633).  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44106/holy-sonnets-batter-my-heart-three-persond-god.

Hester, M. T. (2006). Donne, John. In D. S. Kaslan, D. S. (Ed.), The Oxford Encyclopedia of British Literature. Oxford University Press.  https://www-oxfordreference-com.ezproxy.bethel.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780195169218.001.0001/acref-9780195169218-e-0141?rskey=lSIn2y&result=7.

Hopkins, Gerard Manley. (1877). “The Caged Skylark.”  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44391/the-caged-skylark.

Irony. (2015). [Article]. In C. Baldick (Ed.) The Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms. Oxford University Press.  https://www-oxfordreference-com.ezproxy.bethel.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780198715443.001.0001/acref-9780198715443-e-615?rskey=Dq616h&result=9

Johnson, S. (1779). Excerpt from “Preface to Abraham Cowley.”  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/articles/69382/from-lives-of-the-poets.

Oliver, I. (before 1622). Portrait of John Donne. London: National Portrait Gallery, NPG 1849.   https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John_Donne_by_Isaac_Oliver.jpg.

Petrarch, F. (1368). Sonnet VII T. W. Higginson [Trans.]. In T. W. Higginson (Ed.)  Fifteen Sonnets of Petrarch. New York: Houghton Mifflin & Company, 1903.  https://www.gutenberg.org/files/50307/50307-h/50307-h.htm.

Petrarch. (c. 1420-1430). Il Canzoniere. Folio #: fol. 001r. [Manuscript Illustration]. Oxford, UK: Bodleian Library.  https://library-artstor-org.ezproxy.bethel.edu/asset/BODLEIAN_10310369599.

Picone, M. (2002). Petrarch, Francesco. In P. Hainsworth & D. Robey (Ed.s),  The Oxford Companion to Italian Literature. Oxford University Press.  http://www.oxfordreference.com.ezproxy.bethel.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780198183327.001.0001/acref-9780198183327-e-2435.

Saville, J. (2006). Hopkins, Gerard Manley. In D. D. Kastan (Ed.) The Oxford Encyclopedia of British Literature. Oxford University Press.  https://www-oxfordreference-com.ezproxy.bethel.edu/view/10.1093/acref/9780195169218.001.0001/acref-9780195169218-e-0225?rskey=8BCH16&result=1.

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Encounters With the Arts: Readings for ARTC150 Copyright © 2020 by Dr. Mark Thorson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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