A collection of renaissance revivalist poetry

[Cunninglinguist]

I already have a collection, but I wanted to consolidate this genre, and perhaps some neoromantic stuff, into one thread. I know many people here do not much fancy these two genres (perhaps some even loathe them, especially the former) but, in short, I don't care. I'm omitting and renumbering some of the sonnets in my other collection. Comments and criticisms are generally unexpected but appreciated.




Sonnet I

For how much time ought I to spend in waiting?
Whilst two quite, quite short springtime blooms went by,
I ey'd each time the springtime tulips stating
The valleys’ color’d crowns are but her sigh.
And twice did summer and did autumn pass,
And two quite barren winters I have seen—
All eight insisted youth is but as grass
That withers from the sun, which grew it green.
Requisite were these two years for a proof,
(One serv’d to hint, the other did maintain it)
But since ‘tis such, then stay not so aloof,
And vouchsafe me thy love, lest thou doth feign it;
For, otherwise, it serves us both to spend
Our years together, ere away they wend.

Note: My model sonnet was Shakespeare's 104th , made fairly obvious by the numbered seasons motif, the "I ey'd," and the rhyme "seen" and "green." Moreover, the word "green" in both, I'd argue, consciously adopts the Biblical connotations of the word. In a sense is a response to Shakespeare's sonnet, converses with it, and cannot be fully understood without it (Compare even the first line: To me, fair friend, you never can be old, with For how much time ought I to spend in waiting?, which paraphrased is something like "hey, I'm dying over here!"); it is (almost) flippant, disingenuous, and cynical, and in being those it disagrees with Shakespeare on a number of (philosophical) points.
The (mixed) metaphors may seem a bit obscure; they are generally allusions to passages in the Bible (notably Psalms 90:6, Isaiah 28:4, 40:6-8). Also, the sense of the first quatrain may be made considerably clearer by replacing "time" in L3 with "spring," or replacing "each time" with "both springs." I have not done this because I wanted the "time" in "springtime" to be forced as an unstressed syllable, contrasting with the preceding stressed "time," thus giving the (beginning of the) poem a repressed, frustrated, and jerky feeling, as per a renaissance tradition which has rhythm, and sometimes meter, in some way correspond to the sense or feeling of a poem (a category of expression which is abandoned by especially romantic poets, and not used by yours truly in all instances). It sometimes, unfortunately, comes at the expense of aesthetics or, in this case, a certain degree of clarity, though this is far from being as abstruse as John Donne - and yet, in this case the lack of clarity contributes to the repressed/frustrated effect; we all know how it feels when we get so angry we lose the capacity to find the right words.

[Cunninglinguist]

Sonnet II

One must consider how the viewer views it.
‘Tiſ olde if in such bygone tunge ‘tiſ peinted;
Conversely, though, a modern tongue renews it,
And makes it seem as penned in times acquainted;
When hit was modern it was view'd as such,
And seen as new, and as a prime invention;
And if I’ve set out to retain as much
The “thees” and “thous” would then belie intention.
But fixéd content’s old, though modern then;
So strange are newer forms now juxtaposed -
The agéd ink against the younger pen -
So “thees” and “thous” are now the best supposed;
For, though from content might from forms detach
All pens their ink and inks their pen should match.

This was written as a defense of my employment of archaic language in a personal translation of the first canto of Dante's Inferno.

[YesNo]

The last line seems to say that you should not be using the archaic language, but the comment following it makes me think the opposite argument was being made.

I suspect the meter of an old poem should be maintained or converted to something similar since that conveys the idea that there was meter that the original hearer experienced, but the actual words used should belong to the modern hearer's vocabulary.

[Cunninglinguist]

The last line seems to say that you should not be using the archaic language, but the comment following it makes me think the opposite argument was being made.

That the argument, that is the content, of the sonnet is "modern" while (certain parts) of its vocabulary are not is a contradiction (among others) I was cognizant of, but neglected to "fix," while writing the poem. In the end, it probably makes the poem itself a failure, but that's no matter to me since it was only written as an exercise.


I suspect the meter of an old poem should be maintained or converted to something similar since that conveys the idea that there was meter that the original hearer experienced, but the actual words used should belong to the modern hearer's vocabulary.

I'm of many minds when it comes to methods of translating (as, I would guess, are many people who've given it a sincere attempt). The archaic words give a piece an antique feel. And, of course, when the "old" poems (with a few exceptions, such as Spenser's The Faerie Queene) were written they were written in a vocabulary concurrent with the times, and so they had a modern feel and a corresponding effect. Now, trying to retain that modern effect would seem to be what a translation should do - but there are the questions as to how suitable and possible that is since the content will always be old. Personally, I have often found old content juxtaposed against a modern vocabulary awkward and, at best, producing an illusion of accuracy. One cannot truly see the poem as it was originally seen when it is rendered in a concurrent style, because the content of the poem will not and never can be seen as concurrent. Therefore, the objective of retaining that effect of concurrency is futile. Thus, I think that the best (or most accurate) way to look at an old poem is to understand the time in which it was written.

Though, one must also consider the object of the translation, or the people who are going to be reading it. We don't love this or that poem or piece of literature because it was received in such and such a way when it was first read; we tend to love them because we continue to find meaning in them within our own context. When this is the case, the old language seems quite unnecessary, even counterproductive, to the reader's personal relation to the poem. But this starts to throw accuracy out of the window, which makes me raise my brow. In any case, I'm still ambivalent about it all.