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Drawings from Learning a Trade : A Craftsman's Notebooks, 1955-1997
Pictures--painting or photographs, anything-- seem to have a great importance for me when I think of writing and when I'm in the act of writing....
There is a whole gallery in my mind: Vermeer's Young Woman in Blue Reading a Letter (which bears very obviously on Rosacoke's state)...
...The Botticelli Portrait of a Young Man from the National Gallery, London (because it somehow suggests Wesley: not that I think Wesley was this beautiful, but that I know he combined this same sort of electric but unselfconscious animality with a hint of brutality in the mouth and chin. But over it all there is the beauty....)
text from Learning a Trade : A Craftsman's Notebooks, 1955-1997, p. 93
13 April, 1957. Today I drew a picture of Wesley. It is very nearly the face of the London Botticelli Young Man (with American hair) but it (mine, that is) is somehow a little heavier and younger but also more voluptuous. It doesn't really convince me as a portrait of Wesley: it still looks a good deal too much like an Italian boy. But it does have-- I'm sure -- almost all of Wesley's qualities, except stupidity.
text from Learning a Trade : A Craftsman's Notebooks, 1955-1997, p. 96
| Daphnis and Chloe by Andrew Marvell
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| i Daphnis must from Chloe part: Now is come the dismal Hour That must all his Hopes devour, All his Labour, all his Art. ii Nature, her own Sexes foe, Long had taught her to be coy: But she neither knew t' enjoy, Nor yet let her Lover go. iii But, with this sad News surpriz'd, Soon she let that Niceness fall; And would gladly yield to all, So it had his stay compriz'd. iv Nature so her self does use To lay by her wonted State, Left the World should separate; Sudden Parting closer glews. v He, well read in all the wayes By which men their Siege maintain, Knew not that the Fort to gain Better 'twas the siege to raise. vi But he came so full possest With the Grief of Parting thence, That he had not so much Sence As to see he might be blest. vii Till Love in her Language breath'd Words she never spake before; But than Legacies no more To a dying Man bequeath'd. viii For, Alas, the time was spent, Now the latest minut's run When poor Daphnis is undone, Between Joy and Sorrow rent. ix At that Why, that Stay my Dear, His disorder'd Locks he tare; And with rouling Eyes did glare, And his cruel Fate forswear. x As the Soul of one scarce dead, With the shrieks of Friends aghast, Looks distracted back in hast, And then streight again is fled. xi So did wretched Daphnis look, Frighting her he loved most. At the last, this Lovers Ghost Thus his Leave resolved took. xii Are my Hell and Heaven Joyn'd More to torture him that dies? Could departure not suffice, But that you must then grow kind? xiii Ah my Chloe how have I Such a wretched minute found, When thy Favours should me wound More than all thy Cruelty? xiv So to the condemned Wight The delicious Cup we fill; And allow him all he will, For his last and short Delight. xv But I will not now begin Such a Debt unto my Foe; Nor to my Departure owe What my Presence could not win. xvi Absence is too much alone: Better 'tis to go in peace, Than my Losses to increase By a late Fruition. xvii Why should I enrich my Fate? 'Tis a Vanity to wear, For my Executioner, Jewels of so high a rate. xviii Rather I away will pine In a manly stubborness Than be fatted up express For the Canibal to dine. xix Whilst this grief does thee disarm, All th' Enjoyment of our Love But the ravishment would prove Of a Body dead while warm. xx And I parting should appear Like the Gourmand Hebrew dead, While with Quailes and Manna fed, He does through the Desert err; xxi Or the Witch that midnight wakes For the Fern, whose magick Weed In one minute casts the Seed, And invisible him makes. xxii Gentler times for Love are ment: Who for parting pleasure strain Gather Roses in the rain, Wet themselves and spoil their Sent. xxiii Farewel therefore all the fruit Which I could from Love receive: Joy will not with Sorrow weave, Nor will I this Grief pollute. xxiv Fate I come, as dark, as sad, As thy Malice could desire; Yet bring with me all the Fire That Love in his Torches had. xxv At these words away he broke; As who long has praying ly'n, To his Heads-man makes the Sign, And receives the parting stroke. xxvi But hence Virgins all beware. Last night he with Phlogis slept; This night for Dorinda kept; And but rid to take the Air. xxvii Yet he does himself excuse; Nor indeed without a Cause. For, according to the Lawes, Why did Chloe once refuse? Source:
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