the flower of the mind(脑之花)-第8章
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phrase； and having made； award it； is not； in fairness； to affect a reader's
thought of Marvell himself nor even of his time。 Under correction； I
should think that the award was not made in his own age； he did but live
on the eve of the day that cumbered its mouth with phrases of such foolish
burden and made literature stiff with them。 Andrew Marvell's political
rectitude； it is true； seems to have been of a robustious kind； but his poetry；
at its rare best； has a 〃wild civility；〃 which might puzzle the triumph of
him； whoever he was； who made a success of this phrase of the 〃British
Aristides。〃 Nay； it is difficult not to think that Marvell too； who was 〃of
middling stature； roundish… faced； cherry…cheeked；〃 a healthy and active
rather than a spiritual Aristides； might himself have been somewhat taken
by surprise at the encounters of so subtle a muse。 He； as a garden… poet；
expected the accustomed Muse to lurk about the fountain… heads； within
the caves； and by the walks and the statues of the gods； keeping the tryst
of a seventeenth century convention in which there were certainly no
surprises。 And for fear of the commonplaces of those visits； Marvell
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sometimes outdoes the whole company of garden…poets in the difficult
labours of the fancy。 The reader treads with him a 〃maze〃 most resolutely
intricate； and is more than once obliged to turn back； having been too
much puzzled on the way to a small； visible； plain； and obvious goal of
thought。
And yet this poet two or three times did meet a Muse he had hardly
looked for among the trodden paths； a spiritual creature had been waiting
behind a laurel or an apple…tree。 You find him coming away from such a
divine ambush a wilder and a simpler man。 All his garden had been made
ready for poetry； and poetry was indeed there； but in unexpected hiding
and in a strange form； looking rather like a fugitive； shy of the poet who
was conscious of having her rules by heart； yet sweetly willing to be seen；
for all her haste。
The political poems； needless to say； have an excellence of a different
character and a higher degree。 They have so much authentic dignity that
〃the glorious name of the British Aristides〃 really seems duller when it is
conferred as the earnings of the Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return
from Ireland than when it inappropriately clings to Andrew Marvell；
cherry…cheeked； caught in the tendrils of his vines and melons。 He shall be；
therefore； the British Aristides in those moments of midsummer solitude；
at least； the heavy phrase shall then have the smile it never sought。
The Satires are； of course； out of reach for their inordinate length。 The
celebrated Satire on Holland certainly makes the utmost of the fun to be
easily found in the physical facts of the country whose people 〃with mad
labour fished the land to shore。〃 The Satire on 〃Flecno〃 makes the utmost
of another joke we know of… …that of famine。 Flecno； it will be
remembered； was a poet； and poor； but the joke of his bad verses was
hardly needed； so fine does Marvell find that of his hunger。 Perhaps there
is no age of English satire that does not give forth the sound of that
laughter unknown to savagesthat craven laughter。
THE PICTURE OF T。 C。 IN A PROSPECT OF FLOWERS
The presence of a furtive irony of the sweetest kind is the sure sign of
the visit of that unlooked…for muse。 With all spirit and subtlety does
Marvell pretend to offer the little girl T。 C。 （the future 〃virtuous enemy of
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man〃） the prophetic homage of the habitual poets。 The poem closes with
an impassioned tenderness not to be found elsewhere in Marvell。
THE DEFINITION OF LOVE
The noble phrase of the Horatian Ode is not recovered again； high or
low； throughout Marvell's book； it we except one single splendid and
surpassing passage from The Definition of Love …
〃Magnanimous despair alone Could show me so divine a thing。〃
CHILDHOOD
One of our true poets； and the first who looked at nature with the full
spiritual intellect； Henry Vaughan was known to few but students until Mr。
E。 K。 Chambers gave us his excellent edition。 The tender wit and grave
play of Herbert； Crashaw's lovely rapture； are all unlike this meditation of
a soul condemned and banished into life。 Vaughan's imagination suddenly
opens a new window towards the east。 The age seems to change with him；
and it is one of the most incredible of all facts that there should be more
than a centuryand such a century！from him to Wordsworth。 The
passing of time between them is strange enough； but the passing of Pope；
Prior； and Grayof the world； the world； whether reasonable or flippant or
rhetoricalis more strange。 Vaughan's phrase and diction seem to carry the
light。 Il vous semble que cette femme degage de la lumiere en marchant？
Vous l'aimez！ says Marius in Les Miserables （I quote from memory）； and
it seems to be by a sense of light that we know the muse we are to love。
SCOTTISH BALLADS
It was no easy matter to choose a group of representative ballads
from among so many almost equally fine and equally damaged with thin
places。 Finally； it seemed best to take； from among the finest； those that
had passages of geniusa line here and there of surpassing imagination
and poetryrare in even the best folk… songs。 Such passages do not occur
but in ballads that are throughout on the level of the highest of their kind。
〃None but my foe to be my guide〃 so distinguishes Helen of Kirconnell；
the exquisite stanza about the hats of birk； The Wife of Usher's Well； its
varied refrain； The Dowie Dens of Yarrow； the stanza spoken by Margaret
asking for room in the grave； Sweet William and Margaret； and a number
of passages； Sir Patrick Spens； such as that beginning； 〃I saw the new
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moon late yestreen；〃 the stanza beginning 〃O laith； laith were our gude
Scots lords；〃 and almost all the stanzas following。 A Lyke Wake Dirge is
of surpassing quality throughout。 I am sorry to have no room for
Jamieson's version of Fair Annie； for Edom o' Gordon； for The Daemon
Lover； for Edward； Edward； and for the Scottish edition of The Battle of
Otterbourne。
MRS。 ANNE KILLIGREW
This most majestic odeone of the few greatest of its kindis a
model of noble rhythm and especially of cadence。 To print it whole would
be impossible； and one of the very few excisions in this book is made in
the midst of it。 Dryden； so adult and so far from simplicity； bears himself
like a child who； having said something fine； caps it with something
foolish。 The suppressed part of the ode is silly with a silliness which
Dryden's age chose to dodder in when it would。 The deplorable 〃rattling
bones〃 of the closing section has a touch of it。
SONG； FROM ABDELAZAR
It is a futile thingand the cause of a train of futilitiesto hail 〃style〃
as though it were a separable quality in literature； and it is n
