Showing posts with label Lord Byron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lord Byron. Show all posts

Friday, May 5, 2017

Fame is fleeting; obscurity is forever.

That statement is supposed to have been uttered by Napoleon Bonaparte (1769 - 1821).

The picture of Mrs. RWP and me that I posted the other day elicited seven comments on my blogpost from readers (we few, we happy few, we band of brothers and sisters). It also garnered 83 "Likes" on my Facebook page, a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Wait a minute, aren't all surprises by definition unexpected? I do not know and I guess I do not care, another sign that I am really slipping really am slipping (see what I did there to avoid a split infinitive). There was a time when the question whether "unexpected surprise" is redundant would have sent me scurrying to the bookshelves, if not the Internet, for the answer. Now it is not worth the effort to find out, but the pedant in me tells me that it is redundant, so forgive me if I have assaulted your sensibilities today.

Where was I?

Oh, yes -- basking in my newfound fame, local-social-media-wise. Not that it will last. Everyone's "fifteen minutes of fame" (a phrase made, er, famous by Andy Warhol) has shrunk in our day to fifteen seconds. Hardly does the spotlight fall on you/me/whomever before it moves on to something else. The public (British, obsolete: publick) are a fickle lot. I will take comfort in the fact that my fame, however fleeting, was only newfound and not ill-gotten.

Here are some thoughts on fame from days gone by:

Gaius Sallustius Crispus (c. 86–35/34 B.C.), Roman historian, said (only in Latin, of course), "The fame which is based on wealth or beauty is a frail and fleeting thing; but virtue shines for ages with undiminished lustre."

Lord Byron (1788 - 1824) said, "Fame is the thirst of youth."

Horace Greeley (1811 - 1872), the man who famously said "Go west, young man!" said, "Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, and riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character."

Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886) wrote two poems about it:

Fame is a bee
by Emily Dickinson


Fame is a bee.
It has a song --
It has a sting --
Ah, too, it has a wing.


Fame is a fickle food
by Emily Dickinson


Fame is a fickle food
Upon a shifting plate
Whose table once a
Guest but not
The second time is set.

Whose crumbs the crows inspect
And with ironic caw
Flap past it to the Farmer’s Corn --
Men eat of it and die.


Here, back in the present, I hope Caitlyn Jenner and the entire Kardashian family take note.


Friday, March 27, 2009

Spring cleaning


1. An anapest is the reverse of a dactyl.

Anapest beat: da-da-DUM da-da-DUM da-da-DUM da-da-DUM
Example: The AsSYRian came DOWN like the WOLF on the FOLD... (Lord Byron, 1813)
Example: ’twas the NIGHT before CHRISTmas and ALL through the HOUSE... (Clement Clarke Moore, 1829)

Dactyl beat: DUM-da-da DUM-da-da DUM-da-da DUM-da-da
Example: THIS is the FORest primEVal, the MURmuring PINES and the HEMlocks... (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1847)

2. An iamb is the reverse of a trochee.

Iamb beat: da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM da-DUM
Example: i WANdered LONEly AS a CLOUD... (William Wordsworth, 1804)
Example: come LIVE with ME and BE my LOVE (Christopher Marlowe, circa 1585)

Trochee beat: DUM-da DUM-da DUM-da DUM-da
Example: ONCE upON a MIDnight DREAry, WHILE i PONdered, WEAK and WEAry Over MANy a QUAINT and CURious VOLume OF forGOTten LORE... (Edgar Allan Poe, 1845)

3. Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny. (Étienne Serres, 1824)

4. In life, as in the dictionary, perspicacity precedes perspicuity. (rhymeswithplague, 1983)

5. The square of the hypotenuse of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. (Pythagoras, sixth century B.C.)



6. I got you, babe. (Salvatore Bono and Cherilyn Sarkisian, 1965)


...and the beat goes on.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

If it’s Tuesday, this must be Byron**


The Destruction of Sennacherib
by George Gordon, Lord Byron


The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!


George Gordon, Lord Byron, the author of the poem you have just read, was born on January 22, 1788, and died on April 19, 1824, at 36 years of age. The poem, which he wrote in 1813 using anapestic tetrameter, used to be popular in school recitations. Well, that’s all well and good, you may be saying, but what is Sennacherib? It is not even mentioned in the poem.

Sennacherib is not a what. Sennacherib is a who. Or, rather, Sennacherib was a who a very long time ago. Not the kind that Dr. Seuss wrote about, but a who, nevertheless.

He was the Assyrian mentioned in the first line of Byron's poem.


According to Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia, Sennacherib, the son of Sargon II, succeeded his father on the throne of Assyria and reigned from 704 to 681 BC. The name Sennacherib, or Sin-ahhi-eriba, means “the Moon god Sîn has replaced lost brothers for me.” Depending on your point of view, Sennacherib was either a great warrior or a bit of a stinker. The Wikipedia article includes a section called War with Babylon and a section called War with Judah. Both the Old Testament and Byron’s poem describe Sennacherib’s battle for Jerusalem in 701 BC from the point of view of Hezekiah, king of Judah.

In the Old Testament book of Second Kings, chapters 18 and 19, is a description of the siege of Judah by the armies of Sennacherib, king of Assyria. Chapter 19, verse 35 says, “And it came to pass that night, that the angel of the LORD went out, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses.”

I must interject here that it is always important to use pronouns correctly. Otherwise, you stumble across such strange statements as “and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses." In the interest of clarity, I must point out that the first “they” refers to Hezekiah’s army and the second “they” refers to Sennacherib’s army. And “dead corpses” is definitely redundant. So much for the English of the King James Version of 1611.

The Wikipedia article on Sennacherib is too long to include here, but it is fascinating because it contains his own account of the battle, the Hebrews’ version of the battle, and an account written around 450 BC by the Greek historian, Herodotus.

A six-sided clay object known as the Taylor Prism is especially fascinating. Found in 1830 in the ruins of Sennacherib’s palace, now in northern Iraq, it contains in the Akkadian language Sennacherib’s version of what happened. Here is an English translation:

“Because Hezekiah, king of Judah, would not submit to my yoke, I came up against him, and by force of arms and by the might of my power I took 46 of his strong fenced cities; and of the smaller towns which were scattered about, I took and plundered a countless number. From these places I took and carried off 200,156 persons, old and young, male and female, together with horses and mules, asses and camels, oxen and sheep, a countless multitude; and Hezekiah himself I shut up in Jerusalem, his capital city, like a bird in a cage, building towers round the city to hem him in, and raising banks of earth against the gates, so as to prevent escape... Then upon Hezekiah there fell the fear of the power of my arms, and he sent out to me the chiefs and the elders of Jerusalem with 30 talents of gold and 800 talents of silver, and diverse treasures, a rich and immense booty... All these things were brought to me at Nineveh, the seat of my government.”

Nothing at all about 185,000 of his men slaughtered in one night.

The Taylor Prism wasn’t unearthed until six years after Byron died, and it’s a pity. Perhaps he would have written another poem on the subject.

Apparently others thought Sennacherib was a bit of a stinker as well. In 681 BC he was assassinated by two of his own sons.


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**A long time ago (1969) there was a movie called “If It’s Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium” which has nothing to do with Lord Byron, but I thought it would be fun to twist that movie title into the title of a post about a poem by Lord Byron. The movie was about a busload of American tourists in Europe. Roger Ebert, the movie critic for the Chicago Sun-Times newspaper, said in his review that the American tourist is, in short, a plague. (If you are really hard up for something to read, you can read Ebert’s review of the movie in its entirety here.)


Taking my cue from a phrase on the Taylor Prism, I could just as easily have called this post “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings” and included a picture of Maya Angelou.


I would like to announce at this time that I am not a plague, but I rhyme with one.

<b>Words have meanings</b>

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say in this post but I'll try to say it as best I can. According to William Shakespeare, a...