Tennyson

I just got into a completely fascinating discussion about Tennyson’s “Ulysses” with Trent. It’s probably my favorite poem of all time; if I had to choose one poem to be able to read for the rest of my life and no others, it would very likely be “Ulysses”. (That would suck, but that’s not the point.) Anyway, it’s so wonderful I was stabbing myself in the heart over it, and Trent said, “You’re reading that on purpose? It’s so *depressing*!”

I don’t think it’s depressing at all. I think it’s wildly uplifting. Like, it takes my breath away and makes me feel like I can fly. My God. I just can’t breathe, reading that poem. But then Trent said, “I’m going to die, but *you* may yet do something cool,” was his interpretation of it, and the idea came down on me like a load of bricks. And I can totally see where he gets that, now that he’s said it, but *wow*, talk about *totally* not how I ever interpreted it.

I always took it as him recognizing that ruling a country wasn’t his strength, that leaving it behind to “mine own Telemachus”, who *is* a good ruler, and Ulysses striking out to do what he does best, which is battle the great monsters and be a great hero, even if he hasn’t got the youthful strength he once had. “He works his work, I mine.” This is a man who understands what he’s good at, and what others are good at.

And sure, all of the language, and “to sail beyond the sunset, and all the baths of western stars, until I die,” absolutely, sure, I can see the death interpretation very easily, now that somebody’s said it.

But it’s not at *all* how I see it. To me that’s the inevitable end, of course, “It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew”; yes, he will die, in time, but

Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

This is not a man who is dying. This is a man who is *living*! My *God*! To have such passion, such strength, and such self-awareness! “Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.” That new world that they seek isn’t *death*, but *glory*, a life spent not fading away in the line of duty, but spent lived to its fullest.

I must try to find the paper I wrote on this poem in college. I did not know at the time that Tennyson was the prof’s favorite poet (and this professor was known for grading tough anyway). I would not have had the nerve to write a paper on “Ulysses” had I known this. As it was, I got a high A on the paper, the highest grade in the class, so it’s a good thing I didn’t know. :)

*pantpantpant* :)