With commentary by Prof. Oliverio Malatesta

Almost thirty-five years a go I came across, quite by accident, this poem of Lalla Rookh by the Irish poet Thomas Moore. I hate to mention it now, but it was really a "dark and stormy night," and at the moment I had nothing else better to do. Nonetheless, in reading this poem, what struck me at that tender age was the clarity of Thomas Moore's' prose and how it moved my young romantic hearth. The offish facade became immediately transparent and his flowing poetic words took me aloft.

I soon found myself transfixed in another place and time. I was privileged to see, hear and feel, in the theater of my mind the story of a Delhian Princess. She had realized that her short dream of happiness was over, and she had nothing but the recollection of its few blissful hours. The simple but exquisite story of the fair Princess of Delhi doomed to marry the King of Bucharia, whom she has never seen; journeying to Cashmere to meet her betrothed, tended during her progress by troops of her country’s maidens, and amused at intervals by the Minstrel-Poet Feramorz is known to all who can appreciate what is exquisitely pure in genuine poetry. The poems, properly so called, by aid of which Feramorz sought to interest and amuse the fair Princess, are, "The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan," "Paradise and the Peri," "The Fire Worshippers," and a less important, but most charming trifle, "The Light of the Harem."

        The poet, with admirable skill, so managed, that the simple history of the Delhian princess should, as it were, tell itself in richly poetic prose during the progress of the various poems; and the interest felt for the delicate and lovely Lalla Rookh never interferes with or disturbs that which is excited by the mystery of "The Veiled Prophet," the exquisite imagery of "Paradise and the Peri," or the solemnity of "The Fire Worshiper." These are tales, stories, imaginings, of the most noble kind, but "Lara Rookh" is a reality: we never doubt her existence; she is not only with us, but of us, from the first page to the last; we see and feel her beauty; we sympathize with her almost childlike enjoyment of her sumptuous litter, with its rose-colored curtains "fanned by feathers of the Argus pheasant’s wing;" we see the army of Tartarian and Cashmerian maids of honors, mounted on their curveting Arabian horses; we honor the profound-looking elephants, who could not feel the weight of the Delhian ladies destined to accompany their mistress to her adopted country; and, above all, we enjoy the dignity of the Buffo critic Fadladeen, who considered himself not the least important personage of the procession.

        We quite understand the authority he possessed over two very opposite classes "the cooks and poets of Delhi; we note the curve of his eyebrow, the bitter but weakly satire that festers on his yellow and shriveled lip, and fervently believe him to have been the prototype of a race of critics by no means extinct in our day who, according to the line of Saudi, "if the Prince at noon-day say. ‘It is night,’ declare that they behold the moon and stars." The under-current of satire which characterizes the whole conduct of this "mighty mind" forms a delightful contrast to the tenderness and simplicity of the Princess: the change from the almost child to the woman during the progress of love in her young heart is most exquisitely depleted. The pain she feels when she discovers the interest the poet-minstrel has created in her heart, her resolve to avoid his fascination, her determination, however painful to herself, to shun the temptation of yielding what ought to be another’s, to the, young stranger, are charmingly developed; and who does not earnestly rejoice when, at the end of the journey, the young poet Feramorz raised the fair Lalla Rookh to his arms, as Sovereign of Bucharia?

        If the several incidents of this story grow more and more exciting, the anxiety towards the close becomes absolutely intense to know how the poet will render "poetic justice." To have wedded her to the coarse lord which fancy had pictured for her would have been a positive affliction to the reader, while it was equally certain that misery must have followed her union with the nameless minstrel who had won her heart; but when it is found that the devoted lover and the contracted lord are one, we feel, as it were, a gush of pleasure, and thank the writer with tears as well as smiles. The imagination is carried on to the close, and we have less of hope than of fear for the issue; we hear the joy bells ringing loudly, we see the "banners waving from the roofs of the crowded summerhouses :" the picture of animated rejoicing is before us; and so is the young bride, to whom alone the scene was a melancholy pageant,’ who passed through the applauding throng with a flushed cheek and a chilled heart, a sacrifice that must be inevitably made.

        The last act of the delicious drama closes with this passage (her hand is taken by her future husband): "It was Feramorz himself that stood before her: Feramorz was himself the sovereign of Bucharia, who in this disguise had accompanied his young bride from Delhi, and, having won her love as an humble minstrel, now amply deserved to enjoy it as a king!’ 

        In our contemporary lifestyle we are bombarded daily with multi-media events, political sound bites and yes, even the intrusive common chatter from our next door neighbor. Life, however, still moves at a snail pace even if we pretend to have made great strides on the road of success. Time, then, seems to be the equation we all have in common, while to spend our time wisely is perhaps our common denominator. Yet if one take a moment to explore the poetic writings handed down to us from the world’s poets, we will have no doubt made one of the greatest leaps in our lifetime.

        By now you must have realized that if you have diligently read this Embroiled News article to this point, you have no doubt realized to have also begun to take that first step in poetry appreciation; while the second step, about learning the background of the poet, is close at hand.

        I encourage you to please continue to read further about this Irish poet.

           Thomas Moore seen in the sketch above, was the son of a shoemaker, born in Dublin on May 28, 1779. He was a poet, satirist, composer and musician of note. His ten volume work of Irish Melodies (1807-34) consisted of 130 poems set to music composed by Moore and Sir John Stevenson. Much of the music was based on older Irish airs. Irish Melodies was so popular that Moore earned 500 pounds annually for more than 25 years for it's publication. Although noted for his music, his poetry was far more celebrated. He was paid 3,000 pounds--a record at that time (1817)-- for his poem Lalla Rookh. His reputation equaled that of Byron and Shelley.

            In 1795 Moore, a Catholic, was able to enter Trinity College due to a suspension of one of the rules of the Penal Code. At Trinity he met members of the United Irish Society. Already with an "ardor for the national cause" because of his religious background, his contacts at Trinity would inflame his devotion to the Irish cause. One of his best friends at Trinity was Robert Emmet, a member of the United Irishmen, who participated in the United Irishmen Uprising of 1798 and led another aborted uprising in 1803. Emmet was captured, tried and hung. Emmet and Moore were both members of the "Hist", the Historical Society at Trinity. The Hist was a debating society. In Historical Society debates Wolfe Tone developed the ideas that led to the leadership of the United Irishmen and Emmet spoke of the ideas that caused him to be expelled from Trinity. When College authorities began an investigation to discover which students were in the United Irishmen, Moore refused to inform on his friends despite the risk of expulsion.

            After graduating from Trinity, Moore studied law in London. His first book, Odes of Anacreon was a success and he was able to spend a year traveling to Bermuda, the West Indies and the United States. He returned to London in 1804 and lived there the rest of his life.

            Moore had tremendous charm and was a gifted performer. It was due to these facts, as well as his talent that he became a success. Despite his vocal Irish national politics he was popular and counted the Regent (later George IV) among his patrons.

            His career was not without controversy and risk. He turned down the post of "Irish Poet Laureate" because he felt it required toning down his politics. He published a biography of Fitzgerald despite English fears it might lead to another rebellion. In the most controversial of his acts he burned the manuscript of Byron's autobiography which Byron had left him. He did so because of the pleas of Byron's half sister and Lady Byron who felt it would damage Byron's reputation. However, his biography of Byron appeared in 1830 and is among his best prose works.

            Although a Catholic, Moore married a Protestant and had his children raised Protestant. Late is his life he suffered the loss of his five children and his life was further shadowed as he was condemned by many of his countrymen as a false patriot. An essay written by Thomas Davis in 1844 criticized Moore for not being strong enough in his passion for Irish nationalism and attacked him as being elitist. Others criticized his work as "ersatz Irish music intended for an elite coterie."

            Moore died on February 25, 1852. His work endured. Irish Melodies was translated into every European language. Thomas Moore himself was commemorated on an L N W R "Prince of Wales" class loco. His amusing satires, Intercepted Letters; or, The Two-Penny Post Bag (1813) and The Fudge Family in Paris (1818), were widely read, and the long poem Lalla Rookh (1817), a lush romance of India and the Middle East, was one of the most popular poems of his day.

Now that wasn't’t too bad. You have made that marvelous leap into the world of poetry. But just to be sure, look around your adobe and if you don’t happen to have a poetry gem on your book shelf, go buy one! Close this computer, get in your car; peddle your bicycle or ride a mule if necessary, but get to your nearest new or used book store! There, your favorite poet is waiting for you.

                                                                                                                 Oliverio Malatesta

EmbroiledNews	Beachcomber  Emporium
All Rights Reserved.	This web site is constantlyunder construction.

This web site is © copyrighted, designed and created by Giovanni Caliendo. Any unauthorized use or reproduction of material from this site is prohibited.