Poetry in Gormenghast

I recently re-read this little gem, a small segment from Titus Groan, the first volume of the Gormenghast Trilogy written by Mervyn Peake in 1946.

It's an odd fantasy and the plot is hard to describe succinctly. I've always loved the book (only the first one, didn't like books 2 and 3 nearly so much), but it's a tough read. I believe it is worthwhile but it does require some commitment; it's like eating a very well prepared but extremely heavy gourmet meal.

Back to the snippet posted below…

The character who recites this poem is unnamed. Only his head appears through a break in the masonry in the castle wall. He believes he is alone and speaks his poem to what he believes is a vast and empty courtyard. However, there is an unexpected person there, who hears the recitation. Once the poet finishes his recital, the hidden listener on the nearby rooftop moves and loosens a tile, which clatters to the flagstones below. Immediately the poet is horrified, and begins quickly piling bricks in the opening, laying down mortar to seal himself once again within the castle. The whole segment, which isn't really part of the plot of the book at all, is somehow so poignant.

Linger now with me, thou Beauty,
On the sharp archaic shore.
Surely 'tis a wastrel's duty
And the gods could ask no more.
If thou lingerest when I linger,
If thou tread'st the stones I tread,
Thou wilt stay my spirit's hunger
And dispel the dreams I dread.

Come thou, love, my own, my only,
Through the battlements of Groan;
Lingering becomes so lonely
When one lingers on one's own.

I have lingered in the cloisters
Of the Northern Wing at night,
As the sky unclasped its oysters
On the midnight pearls of light;
For the long remorseless shadows
Chilled me with exquisite fear.
I have lingered in cold meadows
Through a month of rain, my dear.

Come, my Love, my sweet, my Only,
Through the parapets of Groan.
Lingering can be very lonely
When one lingers on one's own.

In dark alcoves I have lingered
Conscious of dead dynasties;
I have lingered in blue cellars
And in hollow trunks of trees.
Many a traveler through moonlight
Passing by a winding stair
Or a cold and crumbling archway
Has been shocked to see me there.

I have longed for thee, my Only,
Hark! the footsteps of the Groan!
Lingering is so very lonely
When one lingers all alone.

Will thou come with me, and linger?
And discourse with me of those
Secret things the mystic finger
Points to, but will not disclose?
When I'm all alone, my glory
Always fades, because I find
Being lonely drives the splendour
Of my vision from my mind.

Come, oh, come, my own! my Only!
Through the Gormenghast of Groan.
Lingering has become so lonely
As I linger all alone!”