The Bard / Thomas Gray



'The Bard. A Pindaric Ode' (1757) is a poem by Thomas Gray, set at the time of Edward I's conquest of Wales. Inspired partly by his researches into mediaeval history and literature, partly by his discovery of Welsh harp music, it was itself a potent influence on future generations of poets and painters, seen by many as the first creative work of the Celtic Revival and as lying at the root of the Romantic movement in Britain.

The Bard: A Pindaric ode
The Bard: A Pindaric Ode Related Poem Content Details BY THOMAS GRAY I.1. "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait, Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing They mock the air with idle state. Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, Nor even thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!" Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance; To arms! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.

I.2. On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre; "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O'er thee, O King! their hundred arms they wave, Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

I.3. "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hush'd the stormy main; Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head. On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale: Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear, as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a griesly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land: With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line:

II.1. "'Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The winding sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. Mark the year, and mark the night, When Severn shall re-echo with affright The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring, Shrieks of an agonising King! She-Wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, That tear'st the bowels of thy mangled mate, From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of Heav'n. What terrors round him wait! Amazement in his van, with Flight combin'd, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.

II.2. "'Mighty victor, mighty lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies. Is the Sable Warrior fled? Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in thy noon-tide beam were born? Gone to salute the rising Morn. Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

II.3. "'Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast. Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse? Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murther fed, Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, And spare the meek usurper's holy head. Above, below, the rose of snow, Twined with her blushing foe, we spread: The bristled Boar in infant-gore Wallows beneath the thorny shade. Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.

III.1. "'Edward, lo! to sudden fate (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun) Half of thy heart we consecrate. (The web is wove. The work is done.)' Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn! In yon bright track, that fires the western skies! They melt, they vanish from my eyes. But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height Descending slow their glitt'ring skirts unroll? Visions of glory, spare my aching sight, Ye unborn Ages, crowd not on my soul! No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. All-hail, ye genuine kings, Britannia's issue, hail!

III.2. "Girt with many a baron bold Sublime their starry fronts they rear; And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old In bearded majesty appear. In the midst a form divine! Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line; Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace. What strings symphonious tremble in the air, What strings of vocal transport round her play! Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear; They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring, as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings.

III.3. "The verse adorn again Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. In buskin'd measures move Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. A voice, as of the cherub-choir, Gales from blooming Eden bear; And distant warblings lessen on my ear, That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou, yon sanguine cloud, Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me: with joy I see The different doom our Fates assign. Be thine Despair, and scept'red Care, To triumph, and to die, are mine." He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night.

Synopsis
As the victorious army of Edward I marches along the slopes of the Snowdonian mountains near to the river Conwy they encounter a Welsh bard, who curses the king. The bard invokes the shades of Cadwallo, Urien and Modred, three of Edward's victims, who weave the fate of Edward's Plantagenet line, dwelling on the various miseries and misfortunes of his descendants. The bard goes on to predict the return of Welsh rule over Britain in the form of the house of Tudor, and the flowering of British poetry in the verse of Spenser, Shakespeare and Milton. Finally he tells Edward: "'With joy I see The different dooms our Fates assign. Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care; To triumph, and to die, are mine. He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.'"

Composition and publication
Gray was a keen student of mediaeval history, and in time came to make a particular study of the oldest Welsh poetry, though without actually learning the language. Several pages of his commonplace books are devoted to notes on Welsh prosody, and he also mentioned there a legend, now considered quite unhistorical, which he had come across in Thomas Carte's A General History of England (1747–1755). When Edward I conquered Wales, "he is said", wrote Gray, "to have hanged up all their Bards, because they encouraged the Nation to rebellion, but their works (we see), still remain, the Language (tho' decaying) still lives, and the art of their versification is known, and practised to this day among them". Gray also studied early Scandinavian literature, and found in one Old Norse poem the refrain "'Vindum vindum/ Vef Darradar'", which was to reappear in The Bard as "Weave the warp and weave the woof". In 1755 he began work on The Bard, and by August of that year had completed two thirds of the poem. Initially he worked with a speed and a sense of identification that were both unusual for him. "I felt myself the Bard", he declared. But composing the third and final strophe proved more difficult, and he eventually ground to a halt. For two years the poem remained unfinished, but then in 1757 he attended a concert by John Parry, a blind harpist who claimed that the traditional Welsh harp repertoire went back as far as the druids. Gray was so inspired by this experience that he returned to The Bard with new enthusiasm, and was soon able to tell his friend William Mason, "Mr Parry, you must know, has set my Ode in motion again, and has brought it at last to a conclusion." Gray sold the copyright of this poem and of his "The Progress of Poesy" to the publisher Robert Dodsley for 40 guineas, and Dodsley issued them together under the title Odes by Mr. Gray. The book was printed by Gray's friend Horace Walpole who had just set up a printing press at his home, Strawberry Hill, and who had set his heart on inaugurating the enterprise with Gray's poems. The Odes were published on 8 August 1757 as a handsome quarto, with a print run of 2000 copies priced at one shilling. Walpole prevailed on Gray to add four footnotes to The Bard for the first edition, though Gray told Walpole, "I do not love notes…They are signs of weakness and obscurity. If a thing cannot be understood without them, it had better not be understood at all." These proved, for many readers, inadequate to explain the poem, and Gray complacently wrote to Mason "nobody understands me, and I am perfectly satisfied." Rather against his will, he was persuaded to add a few more notes for the 1768 edition.

Critical reception
In the general state of ignorance of Welsh culture that prevailed in English literary circles in 1757 The Bard formed something of a challenge to Gray's readers. He claimed that "all people of condition are agreed not to admire, nor even to understand" the Odes. In 1778 the political writer Percival Stockdale was one such negative voice: "If the subject of a Poem is obscure, or not generally known, or not interesting, and if it abounds with allusions, and facts of this improper, and uninteresting character, the writer who chuses the subject, and introduces those improper, and unaffecting allusions, and facts, betrays a great want of poetical judgment, and taste. Mr. Gray had a vitiated fondness for such insipid fable, narrative, and references." Dr. Johnson characteristically grumbled "I do not see that The Bard promotes any truth, moral or political", and found much of the imagery ridiculous. But from the very beginning Gray's complaint of universal misunderstanding was mistaken. In December 1757, only four months after The Bard was published, Gray was offered the Poet Laureateship. Favourable, even enthusiastic, reviews appeared in the Critical Review, Monthly Review and Literary Magazine, and their voices were soon echoed by many others. John Brown, a then fashionable social commentator, reportedly called The Bard and The Progress of Poesy the best odes in the language; David Garrick thought them the best in any language; Thomas James Mathias compared The Bard favourably to Pindar, Horace, Dante and Petrarch; and by 1807 even Percival Stockdale had changed his mind, and could write of its "poetical excellence". One exception to this trend was Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who in 1799 wrote that "The Bard once intoxicated me, & now I read it without pleasure", and more than thirty years later could still remark that he found it "frigid and artificial". On the whole, however, as Edmund Gosse noted, The Bard "for at least a century remained almost without a rival among poems cherished by strictly poetical persons for the qualities of sublimity and pomp of vision."

Literary influence


The publication of The Bard started a new chapter in the history of English poetry. It might be called the first primitivist poem in the English language, and certainly its success inspired a new generation of writers to turn their attention to Welsh and Gaelic themes from the distant past in a movement which came to be known as the Celtic Revival. One of the first to be so influenced was the Scot James Macpherson, whose prose poems issued under the name of the ancient bard Ossian achieved extraordinary popularity, spreading the Celtic glamour across Europe and America. Also indirectly inspired by The Bard were Walter Scott's hugely popular evocations of the Scottish past. The Bard, in fact, was a precursor of Romanticism, or as the critic William Powell Jones put it, Gray "started a flame…when he wrote The Bard, and the fire swept into the Romantic movement itself." Its influence extended to Ernest Renan, Matthew Arnold, and as far as W. B. Yeats and the other Anglo-Irish writers of the Celtic Twilight. One measure of the poem's place in the culture of the English-speaking world lies in the academic James MacKillop's claim that "The current standard English definition of this Celtic word [bard], denoting a poet of exalted status, i.e. the voice of a nation or people, dates from Thomas Gray's use of it in his poem".

Visual arts

 * Paul Sandby, An Historical Landskip Representing the Welsh Bard in the Opening of Mr. Gray's Celebrated Ode, 1761. Untraced.
 * Thomas Jones, The Bard, from Mr. Gray's Ode, "But oh! what glorious scenes", 1774, oil on canvas. National Museum of Wales.
 * Henry Fuseli, series of drawings, 1770–1778. One reproduced in Paul Ganz The Drawings of Henry Fuseli (1949); another in F.I. McCarthy, "The Bard of Thomas Gray, Its Composition and its use by Painters", The National Library of Wales Journal, vol. 14 (1965), Plate 9.
 * Benjamin West, The Bard, 1778, oil on oak. Tate Britain.  Reproduced in Nigel Llewellyn and Christine Riding (eds.), The Art of the Sublime (2013).
 * William Blake, series of illustrations, c. 1797–1798, pen and watercolour on paper. Yale Center for British Art.  Reproduced at the Blake Archive.
 * J. M. W. Turner, Caernarvon Castle, 1800, watercolour on paper. Tate Britain.  One of an unfinished pair inspired by The Bard.
 * J. M. W. Turner, Looking down a Deep Valley towards Snowdon, with an Army on the March, 1800–1802, gouache and watercolour on paper. Tate Britain.  An unfinished painting, probably intended as a companion-piece to Caernarvon Castle.
 * Benjamin West, The Bard, 1809, oil on canvas. Private collection.
 * William Blake, The Bard, 1809(?), tempera and gold on canvas. Tate Britain.  Reproduced at the Tate website.
 * John Martin, The Bard, c. 1817, oil on canvas. Yale Center for British Art.
 * William Etty, Youth on the Prow, and Pleasure at the Helm (a line from the poem), Tate Gallery (and an earlier version)

Sculpture

 * William Theed, The Bard, 1858, marble. Mansion House, London.

Music

 * John Christopher Smith, a proposed serenata or oratorio, never brought to fruition. Gray wrote detailed notes for Smith's benefit on the precise structure the work should take.
 * John Callcott, The Bard, for solo voices, 4-part chorus, orchestra and continuo. 1786.
 * William Horsley, Cold is Cadwallo's Tongue, c. 1810. A glee.
 * Edwin George Monk, The Bard: A Selection from Gray's Ode, for baritone, chorus and piano. 1856.
 * Charles Villiers Stanford, The Bard: A Pindaric Ode by Thomas Gray, for bass, chorus and orchestra, Op. 50. 1892; first performed 1895.

Theatre

 * James Boaden, The Cambro-Britons, 1798. Act iii, sc. 5 is a dramatization of The Bard.