Swinburne's Double Sestina
Type:
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Structure,
Metrical Requirement, End Word Requirement, Isosyllabic
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Description:
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Algernon
Charles Swinburne developed the double sestina, a twelve-line, twelve stanza
form with a six line envoi for the masochistic poet.
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Impressions:
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Not for
the faint of heart or taciturn soul.
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Attributed to:
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Algernon
Charles Swinburne
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Origin:
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English
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Schematic:
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stanza
1: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
stanza 2: 12 1 9 11 4 7 2 8 3 10 6 5 stanza 3: 5 12 6 4 7 1 2 3 10 9 11 8 stanza 4: 8 5 7 6 4 12 10 2 3 11 1 9 stanza 5: 9 8 6 10 1 2 7 4 3 12 5 11 stanza 6: 11 9 6 10 4 2 7 1 12 8 5 3 stanza 7: 3 11 7 8 12 1 2 10 5 6 9 4 stanza 8: 4 3 9 6 5 10 1 7 12 11 8 2 stanza 9: 2 4 5 1 3 8 7 10 9 11 12 6 stanza 10: 6 2 9 3 8 1 7 5 10 4 11 12 stanza 11: 12 6 8 4 3 5 9 10 2 1 11 7 stanza 12: 7 12 6 3 9 11 5 8 4 2 10 1 envoy: 12 10/8 9/7 4/3 6/2 1/11 5 |
Rhythm/Stanza Length:
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12
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Line/Poem Length:
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150
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Status:
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Incomplete
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Pasted
from <http://www.poetrybase.info/forms/003/302.shtml>
A special thanks to Charles L. Weatherford for
his work on this site which is always a dependable resouce.
The Double
Sestina
This cannot, in all honesty, be recommended... it's
similar to a sestina, but has twelve keywords, twelve 12-line stanzas, and a 6-line
tornada, making 150 lines in all. The only example I have been able to find is,
heaven help us, a rhymed double sestina, by Swinburne. The keywords are: breath, her, way, death, sunflower,
sun, day, bed, thee, dead, done, me (which gives you a fair idea of the flavour
of the thing); so the rhyming pairs are (1,4)
(2,5) (3,7) (6,11) (8,10) (9,12). The
structure is:
stanza 1: 1 2 3 4
5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
stanza 2: 12 1 9
11 4 7 2 8 3 10 6 5
stanza 3: 5 12 6
4 7 1 2 3 10 9 11 8
stanza 4: 8 5 7 6
4 12 10 2 3 11 1 9
stanza 5: 9 8 6
10 1 2 7 4 3 12 5 11
stanza 6: 11 9 6
10 4 2 7 1 12 8 5 3
stanza 7: 3 11 7
8 12 1 2 10 5 6 9 4
stanza 8: 4 3 9 6
5 10 1 7 12 11 8 2
stanza 9: 2 4 5 1
3 8 7 10 9 11 12 6
stanza 10: 6 2 9
3 8 1 7 5 10 4 11 12
stanza 11: 12 6 8
4 3 5 9 10 2 1 11 7
stanza 12: 7 12 6
3 9 11 5 8 4 2 10 1
tornada: 12 10/8
9/7 4/3 6/2 1/11 5
You may think you want to write
one of these, but you really don't, believe me. And if you should get it into
your head that you want to write an unrhymed
double sestina, you're going to have to work
out the structure for yourself.
Pasted
from <http://www.volecentral.co.uk/vf/sestinavar1.htm>
It is
with great thanks I applaud Bob Newman's efforts on his site, and his advice in
the instance. I believe I shall pass on
an attempt to write on of this this month.
The Complaint of
Lisa
There is no woman
living who draws breath
So sad as I, though
all things sadden her.
There is not one
upon life's weariest way
Who is weary as I am
weary of all but death.
Toward whom I look
as looks the sunflower
All day with all his
whole soul toward the sun;
While in the sun's
sight I make moan all day,
And all night on my
sleepless maiden bed.
Weep and call out on
death, O Love, and thee,
That thou or he
would take me to the dead.
And know not what
thing evil I have done
That life should lay
such heavy hand on me.
Alas! Love, what is
this thou wouldst with me?
What honor shalt
thou have to quench my breath,
Or what shall my
heart broken profit thee?
O Love, O great god
Love, what have I done,
That thou shouldst
hunger so after my death?
My heart is harmless
as my life's first day:
Seek out some false
fair woman, and plague her
Till her tears even
as my tears fill her bed:
I am the least
flower in thy flowery way,
But till my time be
come that I be dead,
Let me live out my
flower-time in the sun,
Though my leaves
shut before the sunflower.
O Love, Love, Love,
the kingly sunflower!
Shall he the sun
hath looked on look on me,
That live down here
in shade, out of the sun,
Here living in the
sorrow and shadow of death?
Shall he that feeds
his heart full of the day
Care to give mine
eyes light, or my lips breath?
Because she loves
him, shall my lord love her
Who is as a worm in
my lord's kingly way?
I shall not see him
or know him alive or dead;
But thou, I know
thee, O Love, and pray to thee
That in brief while
my brief life-days be done,
And the worm quickly
make my marriage-bed.
For underground
there is no sleepless bed.
But here since I
beheld my sunflower
These eyes have
slept not, seeing all night and day
His sunlike eyes,
and face fronting the sun.
Wherefore, if
anywhere be any death,
I fain would find
and fold him fast to me,
That I may sleep
with the world's eldest dead,
With her that died
seven centuries since, and her
That went last night
down the night-wandering way.
For this is sleep
indeed, when labor is done,
Without love,
without dreams, and without breath,
And without thought,
O name unnamed! of thee.
Ah! but, forgetting
all things, shall I thee?
Wilt thou not be as
now about my bed
There underground as
here before the sun?
Shall not thy vision
vex me alive and dead,
Thy moving vision
without form or breath?
I read long since
the bitter tale of her
Who read the tale of
Launcelot on a day,
And died, and had no
quiet after death,
But was moved ever
along a weary way,
Lost with her love
in the underworld; ah me,
O my king, O my
lordly sunflower,
Would God to me,
too, such a thing were done!
But if such sweet
and bitter things be done,
Then, flying from
life, I shall not fly from thee.
For in that living
world without a sun
Thy vision will lay
hold upon me dead,
And meet and mock
me, and mar my peace in death.
Yet if being wroth,
God had such pity on her,
Who was a sinner and
foolish in her day,
That even in hell
they twain should breathe one breath,
Why should he not in
some wise pity me?
So if I sleep not in
my soft strait bed,
I may look up and
see my sunflower
As he the sun, in
some divine strange way.
O poor my heart,
well knowest thou in what way
This sore sweet evil
unto us was done.
For on a holy and a
heavy day
I was arisen out of
my still small bed
To see the knights
tilt, and one said to me
"The
king;" and seeing him, somewhat stopped my breath;
And if the girl
spake more, I heard her not,
For only I saw what
I shall see when dead,
A kingly flower of
knights, a sunflower,
That shone against
the sunlight like the sun,
And like a fire, O
heart, consuming thee,
The fire of love
that lights the pyre of death.
Howbeit I shall not
die an evil death
Who have loved in
such a sad and sinless way,
That this my love,
lord, was no shame to thee.
So when mine eyes
are shut against the sun,
O my soul's sun, O
the world's sunflower,
Thou nor no man will
quite despise me dead.
And dying I pray
with all my low last breath
That thy whole life
may be as was that day,
That feast-day that
made trothplight death and me,
Giving the world
light of thy great deeds done;
And that fair face
brightening thy bridal bed,
That God be good as
God hath been to her.
That all things
goodly and glad remain with her,
All things that make
glad life and goodly death;
That as a bee sucks
from a sunflower
Honey, when summer
draws delighted breath,
Her soul may drink
of thy soul in like way,
And love make life a
fruitful marriage-bed
Where day may bring
forth fruits of joy to day
And night to night
till days and nights be dead.
And as she gives
light of her love to thee,
Give thou to her the
old glory of days long done;
And either give some
heat of light to me,
To warm me where I
sleep without the sun.
O sunflower make
drunken with the sun,
O knight whose
lady's heart draws thine to her,
Great king, glad
lover, I have a word to thee.
There is a weed
lives out of the sun's way,
Hid from the heat
deep in the meadow's bed,
That swoons and
whitens at the wind's least breath,
A flower
star-shaped, that all a summer day
Will gaze her soul
out on the sunflower
For very love till
twilight finds her dead.
But the great
sunflower heeds not her poor death,
Knows not when all
her loving life is done;
And so much knows my
lord the king of me.
Ay, all day long he
has no eye for me;
With golden eye
following the golden sun
From rose-colored to
purple-pillowed bed,
From birthplace to
the flame-lit place of death,
From eastern end to
western of his way,
So mine eye follows
thee, my sunflower,
So the white
star-flower turns and yearns to thee,
The sick weak weed,
not well alive or dead,
Trod under foot if
any pass by her,
Pale, without color
of summer or summer breath
In the shrunk
shuddering petals, that have done
No work but love,
and die before the day.
But thou, to-day,
to-morrow, and every day,
Be glad and great, O
love whose love slays me.
Thy fervent flower
made fruitful from the sun
Shall drop its
golden seed in the world's way,
That all men thereof
nourished shall praise thee
For grain and flower
and fruit of works well done;
Till thy shed seed,
O shining sunflower,
Bring forth such
growth of the world's garden-bed
As like the sun
shall outlive age and death.
And yet I would
thine heart had heed of her
Who loves thee
alive; but not till she be dead.
Come, Love, then,
quickly, and take her utmost breath.
Song, speak for me
who am dumb as are the dead;
From my sad bed of
tears I send forth thee,
To fly all day from
sun's birth to sun's death
Down the sun's way
after the flying sun,
For love of her that
gave thee wings and breath
Ere day be done, to
seek the sunflower.
Algernon Charles
Swinburne
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