An Idyl for Glaucus
Whither he went I may not follow him. His eyesWere strange to-day. They always were,After their fashion, kindred of the sea.
To-day I found him. It is very longThat I had sought among the nets, and when I askedThe fishermen, they laughed at me.I sought long days amid the cliffs thinking to findThe body-house of him, and thenThere at the blue cave-mouth my joyGrew pain for suddenness, to see him 'live.Whither he went I may not come, it seemsHe is become estranged from all the rest,And all the sea is now his wonder-house.And he may sink unto strange depths, he tells me of,That have no light as we it deem.E'en now he speaks strange words. I did not knowOne half the substance of his speech with me.And then when I saw naught he sudden leapedAnd shot, a gleam of silver, down, away.And I have spent three days upon this rockAnd yet he comes no more.He did not even seem to knowI watched him gliding through the vitreous deep.
They chide me that the skein I used to spinHolds not my interest now,They mock me at the route, well, I have come again.Last night I saw three white forms moveOut past the utmost wave that bears the white foam crest.I somehow knew that he was one of them.
Oimè, Oimè. I think each time they comeUp from the sea heart to the realm of airThey are more far-removed from the shore.When first I found him here, he sleptE'en as he might after a long night's taking on the deep.And when he woke some whit the old kind smileDwelt round his lips and held him near to me.But then strange gleams shot through the grey-deep eyesAs though he saw beyond and saw not me.And when he moved to speak it troubled him.And then he plucked at grass and bade me eat.And then forgot me for the sea its charmAnd leapt him in the wave and so was gone.
I wonder why he mocked me with the grass.I know not any more how long it isSince I have dwelt not in my mother's house.I know they think me mad, for all night longI haunt the sea-marge, thinking I may findSome day the herb he offered unto me.Perhaps he did not jest; they say some simples haveMore wide-spanned power than old wives draw from them.
Perhaps, found I this grass, he'd come again.Perhaps 'tis some strange charm to draw him here,'Thout which he may not leave his new-found crewThat ride the two-foot coursers of the deep,And laugh in storms and break the fishers' nets.Oimè, Oimè!
Words in this poem
- whither adv.
- To what place; -- used interrogatively; as, whither goest thou [OE. whider. AS. hwider; akin to E. where, who; cf. Goth. hvadre whither. See Who, and cf. Hither, Thither.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- amid prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
- deem v. t.
- To decide; to judge; to sentence; to condemn. [OE. demen to judge, condemn, AS. d, fr. d doom; akin to OFries. d, OS. ad, D. doemen, OHG. tuommen, Icel. dæma, Sw. dömma, Dan. dömme, Goth. d. See Doom, n., an]
- route n.
- The course or way which is traveled or passed, or is to be passed; a passing; a course; a road or path; a march. [OE. & F. route, OF. rote, fr. L. rupta (sc. via), fr. ruptus, p.p. of rumpere to break; hence, literally, a broken or beaten way or path. See Rout, and cf. Rut ]
- somehow adv.
- In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
- whit n.
- The smallest part or particle imaginable; a bit; a jot; an iota; -- generally used in an adverbial phrase in a negative sentence. [OE. wight, wiht, AS. wiht a creature, a thing. See Wight, and cf. Aught, Naught.]
- bade
- A form of the pat tense of Bid.
- jest n.
- A deed; an action; a gest. [OE. jeste, geste, deed, action, story, tale, OF. geste, LL. gesta, orig., exploits, neut. pl. from L. gestus, p. p. of gerere to bear, carry, accomplish, perfor]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
An Idyl for Glaucus is in the public domain. This text is taken from Personae, Project Gutenberg ebook #41162; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Ezra Pound, An Idyl for Glaucus, in Personae (1909), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #41162, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/pound-personae/an-idyl-for-glaucus.html, id L01214.
Form and metre
An Idyl for Glaucus is 56 lines in 6 verse paragraphs. It is unrhymed, as far as the pronouncing dictionary can tell. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.7 syllables. 43% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter, other poems in blank verse.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 2 --A---------BA----B- long · asked · meA · find · then · joy · live · seems · rest · house · of · deem · knowB · meA · leaped · away · rock · more · knowB · deep
- 4 ------A-A---- come · air · shore · slept · deep · smile · meA · eyes · meA · him · eat · charm · gone
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Whither he went I may not follow him. His eyes | 12 | /˘·····/˘··· |
| Were strange to-day. They always were, | 8 | ·····/·· |
| After their fashion, kindred of the sea. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| To-day I found him. It is very long | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| That I had sought among the nets, and when I asked | 12 | ············ |
| The fishermen, they laughed at me. | 9 | ·/˘˘··˘·· |
| I sought long days amid the cliffs thinking to find | 12 | ····˘/··/˘·· |
| The body-house of him, and then | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| There at the blue cave-mouth my joy | 8 | ········ |
| Grew pain for suddenness, to see him 'live. | 10 | ···/˘˘···· |
| Whither he went I may not come, it seems | 10 | /˘········ |
| He is become estranged from all the rest, | 10 | ··˘/˘/···· |
| And all the sea is now his wonder-house. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And he may sink unto strange depths, he tells me of, | 12 | ············ |
| That have no light as we it deem. | 8 | ········ |
| E'en now he speaks strange words. I did not know | 10 | ·········· |
| One half the substance of his speech with me. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And then when I saw naught he sudden leaped | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And shot, a gleam of silver, down, away. | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| And I have spent three days upon this rock | 10 | ·········· |
| And yet he comes no more. | 6 | ······ |
| He did not even seem to know | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I watched him gliding through the vitreous deep. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| They chide me that the skein I used to spin | 10 | ·········· |
| Holds not my interest now, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| They mock me at the route, well, I have come again. | 12 | ··········˘/ |
| Last night I saw three white forms move | 8 | ········ |
| Out past the utmost wave that bears the white foam crest. | 12 | ···/········ |
| I somehow knew that he was one of them. | 10 | ·/········ |
| Oimè, Oimè. I think each time they come | 8 | ········ |
| Up from the sea heart to the realm of air | 10 | ·········· |
| They are more far-removed from the shore. | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| When first I found him here, he slept | 8 | ········ |
| E'en as he might after a long night's taking on the deep. | 14 | ·········/˘··· |
| And when he woke some whit the old kind smile | 10 | ·········· |
| Dwelt round his lips and held him near to me. | 10 | ·········· |
| But then strange gleams shot through the grey-deep eyes | 10 | ·········· |
| As though he saw beyond and saw not me. | 10 | ·········· |
| And when he moved to speak it troubled him. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And then he plucked at grass and bade me eat. | 10 | ·········· |
| And then forgot me for the sea its charm | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| And leapt him in the wave and so was gone. | 10 | ·········· |
| I wonder why he mocked me with the grass. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| I know not any more how long it is | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Since I have dwelt not in my mother's house. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I know they think me mad, for all night long | 10 | ·········· |
| I haunt the sea-marge, thinking I may find | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Some day the herb he offered unto me. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Perhaps he did not jest; they say some simples have | 12 | ˘/·······/˘· |
| More wide-spanned power than old wives draw from them. | 10 | ···/······ |
| Perhaps, found I this grass, he'd come again. | 10 | ˘/······˘/ |
| Perhaps 'tis some strange charm to draw him here, | 10 | ˘/········ |
| 'Thout which he may not leave his new-found crew | 10 | ·········· |
| That ride the two-foot coursers of the deep, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And laugh in storms and break the fishers' nets. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Oimè, Oimè! | 2 | ·· |
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