John Milton

'On His Blindness

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
In this lesson, you will learn what John Milton's poem 'On His Blindness' is about, its major
theme, and how to analyze its features in terms of structure and figurative language.
Poem Summary
Many people are familiar with the story of Ludwig Van Beethoven. This man, in spite of being
deaf, managed to become a world-renowned composer. What a terrible fate: to have the sense
most integral to your art be taken away from you. Similar is the story of John Milton, an English
poet, who, by 1655 at age 48, was blind. His ability to write was threatened and, as a result, his
relationship with God became complicated.
In On His Blindness, Milton is struggling to understand what God expects of him now that he is
losing his sight. He's upset about wasting 'that one Talent which is death to hide' (line 3), which
is a biblical reference to the parable of the talents (Matthew 25: 14-30), in which two people
invest their talents (in the story, 'talents' are money), while another just hides his talent in a hole
and is punished. Milton feels that God expects him to use his talent for writing poetry in a way
that honors him.
Milton is frustrated that his lack of sight is preventing him from serving God when he wants to
so badly:
...Though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account... (lines 4-6)
Milton's 'true account' refers to his religious poetry. Much of his poetry was concerned with
God's relationship to mankind and he considered it a serious duty to write poetry that
simultaneously made God's mysterious ways more clear to people and honored God with its
craft.
At line 7, Milton wonders if God still expects him to keep writing without his sight, then decides
that God is more forgiving than he was giving him credit for, Surely, knowing of his condition
and strong desire to please Him, God wouldn't expect anything that he couldn't possibly
accomplish, nor would he punish him.

The last half of the poem has a calmer tone. It's almost like Milton realizes that while he's writing
that people can serve God in many different ways. It's the intent and the grace with which one
deals with hardship that counts:
Who best
Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best.
Within 14 lines, Milton has depicted a wavering, then regaining of faith.
William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worths unknown, although his height be taken.
Love s not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickles compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me provd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lovd.
Summary
This sonnet attempts to define love, by telling both what it is and is not. In the first quatrain, the
speaker says that lovethe marriage of true mindsis perfect and unchanging; it does not
admit impediments, and it does not change when it find changes in the loved one. In the
second quatrain, the speaker tells what love is through a metaphor: a guiding star to lost ships

(wandring barks) that is not susceptible to storms (it looks on tempests and is never
shaken). In the third quatrain, the speaker again describes what love is not: it is not susceptible
to time. Though beauty fades in time as rosy lips and cheeks come within his bending sickles
compass, love does not change with hours and weeks: instead, it bears it out evn to the edge
of doom. In the couplet, the speaker attests to his certainty that love is as he says: if his
statements can be proved to be error, he declares, he must never have written a word, and no man
can ever have been in love.

The Solitary Reaper

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

Summary
The poet orders his listener to behold a solitary Highland lass reaping and singing by herself in
a field. He says that anyone passing by should either stop here, or gently pass so as not to
disturb her. As she cuts and binds the grain she sings a melancholy strain, and the valley
overflows with the beautiful, sad sound. The speaker says that the sound is more welcome than
any chant of the nightingale to weary travelers in the desert, and that the cuckoo-bird in spring
never sang with a voice so thrilling.
Impatient, the poet asks, Will no one tell me what she sings? He speculates that her song might
be about old, unhappy, far-off things, / And battles long ago, or that it might be humbler, a
simple song about matter of today. Whatever she sings about, he says, he listened motionless
and still, and as he traveled up the hill, he carried her song with him in his heart long after he
could no longer hear it.
Form
The four eight-line stanzas of this poem are written in a tight iambic tetrameter. Each follows a
rhyme scheme of ABABCCDD, though in the first and last stanzas the A rhyme is off
(field/self and sang/work).
Commentary
Along with I wandered lonely as a cloud, The Solitary Reaper is one of Wordsworths most
famous post-Lyrical Ballads lyrics. In Tintern Abbey Wordsworth said that he was able to look
on nature and hear human music; in this poem, he writes specifically about real human music
encountered in a beloved, rustic setting. The song of the young girl reaping in the fields is
incomprehensible to him (a Highland lass, she is likely singing in Scots), and what he
appreciates is its tone, its expressive beauty, and the mood it creates within him, rather than its

explicit content, at which he can only guess. To an extent, then, this poem ponders the limitations
of language, as it does in the third stanza (Will no one tell me what she sings?). But what it
really does is praise the beauty of music and its fluid expressive beauty, the spontaneous
overflow of powerful feeling that Wordsworth identified at the heart of poetry.
By placing this praise and this beauty in a rustic, natural setting, and by and by establishing as its
source a simple rustic girl, Wordsworth acts on the values of Lyrical Ballads. The poems
structure is simplethe first stanza sets the scene, the second offers two bird comparisons for the
music, the third wonders about the content of the songs, and the fourth describes the effect of the
songs on the speakerand its language is natural and unforced. Additionally, the final two lines
of the poem (Its music in my heart I bore / Long after it was heard no more) return its focus to
the familiar theme of memory, and the soothing effect of beautiful memories on human thoughts
and feelings.
The Solitary Reaper anticipates Keatss two great meditations on art, the Ode to a
Nightingale, in which the speaker steeps himself in the music of a bird in the forest
Wordsworth even compares the reaper to a nightingaleand Ode on a Grecian Urn, in which
the speaker is unable to ascertain the stories behind the shapes on an urn. It also anticipates
Keatss Ode to Autumn with the figure of an emblematic girl reaping in the fields.
ToAutumn
John Keats, 1795 - 1821
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the mossd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has oer-brimmd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reapd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,-While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Summary
Autumn joins with the maturing sun to load the vines with grapes, to ripen apples and other fruit,
"swell the gourd," fill up the hazel shells, and set budding more and more flowers. Autumn may
be seen sitting on a threshing floor, sound asleep in a grain field filled with poppies, carrying a
load of grain across a brook, or watching the juice oozing from a cider press. The sounds of
autumn are the wailing of gnats, the bleating of lambs, the singing of hedge crickets, the
whistling of robins, and the twittering of swallows.
Analysis
"To Autumn" is one of the last poems written by Keats. His method of developing the poem is to
heap up imagery typical of autumn. His autumn is early autumn, when all the products of nature
have reached a state of perfect maturity. Autumn is personified and is perceived in a state of
activity. In the first stanza, autumn is a friendly conspirator working with the sun to bring fruits
to a state of perfect fullness and ripeness. In the second stanza, autumn is a thresher sitting on a
granary floor, a reaper asleep in a grain field, a gleaner crossing a brook, and, lastly, a cider
maker. In the final stanza, autumn is seen as a musician, and the music which autumn produces is
as pleasant as the music of spring the sounds of gnats, lambs, crickets, robins and swallows.
In the first stanza, Keats concentrates on the sights of autumn, ripening grapes and apples,
swelling gourds and hazel nuts, and blooming flowers. In the second stanza, the emphasis is on
the characteristic activities of autumn, threshing, reaping, gleaning, and cider making. In the
concluding stanza, the poet puts the emphasis on the sounds of autumn, produced by insects,
animals, and birds. To his ears, this music is just as sweet as the music of spring.
The ending of the poem is artistically made to correspond with the ending of a day: "And
gathering swallows twitter in the skies." In the evening, swallows gather in flocks preparatory to
returning to their nests for the night.
"To Autumn" is sometimes called an ode, but Keats does not call it one. However, its structure
and rhyme scheme are similar to those of his odes of the spring of 1819, and, like those odes, it is
remarkable for its richness of imagery. It is a feast of sights and sounds.
My Last Duchess
BY ROBERT BROWNING
Thats my last Duchess painted on the wall,

Looking as if she were alive. I call

That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolfs hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Willt please you sit and look at her? I said
Fra Pandolf by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, twas not
Her husbands presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess cheek; perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say, Her mantle laps
Over my ladys wrist too much, or Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat. Such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A hearthow shall I say? too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whateer
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terraceall and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked mengood! but thanked
SomehowI know not howas if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybodys gift. Whod stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speechwhich I have notto make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the markand if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse

Een then would be some stooping; and I choose

Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Wheneer I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Willt please you rise? Well meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your masters known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughters self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, well go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Summary
This poem is loosely based on historical events involving Alfonso, the Duke of Ferrara, who
lived in the 16 th century. The Duke is the speaker of the poem, and tells us he is entertaining an
emissary who has come to negotiate the Dukes marriage (he has recently been widowed) to the
daughter of another powerful family. As he shows the visitor through his palace, he stops before
a portrait of the late Duchess, apparently a young and lovely girl. The Duke begins reminiscing
about the portrait sessions, then about the Duchess herself. His musings give way to a diatribe on
her disgraceful behavior: he claims she flirted with everyone and did not appreciate his gift of a
nine-hundred-years- old name. As his monologue continues, the reader realizes with ever-more
chilling certainty that the Duke in fact caused the Duchesss early demise: when her behavior
escalated, [he] gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped together. Having made this
disclosure, the Duke returns to the business at hand: arranging for another marriage, with another
young girl. As the Duke and the emissary walk leave the painting behind, the Duke points out
other notable artworks in his collection.

Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him

to crawl beneath a sack of rice.

Parting with his poison - flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room he risked the rain again.
The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the mud-baked walls
they searched for him: he was not found.
They clicked their tongues.
With every movement that the scorpion made his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said
May the sins of your previous birth
be burned away tonight, they said.
May your suffering decrease
the misfortunes of your next birth, they said.
May the sum of all evil
balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good
become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh
of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.
More candles, more lanterns, more neighbours,
more insects, and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through,

groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toe and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites to tame the poison with an incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.
My mother only said
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
And spared my children.

Nissim Ezekiels Night of the Scorpion: Summary & Analysis

Nissim Ezekiels Night of the Scorpion is a strong yet simple statement on the power of selfeffacing love. Full to the brim with Indianness, it captures a well-detached black and
white snapshot of Indian village life with all its superstitious simplicity. The poet dramatizes a
battle of ideas fought at night in lamplight between good and evil; between darkness and light;
between rationalism and blind faith. And out of this confusion, there arises an unexpected winner
the selfless love of a mother.
The poem opens with the poets reminiscence of a childhood experience. One night his mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours of steady rain had driven the scorpion to hiding beneath a
sack of rice. After inflicting unbearable pain upon the mother with a flash of its diabolic tail, the
scorpion risked the rain again.
The peasant-folk of the village came like swarms of flies and expressed their sympathy. They
believed that with every movement the scorpion made, the poison would move in mothers
blood. So, with lighted candles and lanterns they began to search for him, but in vain.
To console the mother they opened the bundle of their superstitions. They told mother that the
suffering and pain will burn away the sins of her previous birth. May the suffering decrease the
misfortunes of your next birth too, they said.

Mother twisted and groaned in mortifying pain. Her husband, who was sceptic and rationalist,
tried every curse and blessing; powder, herb and hybrid. As a last resort he even poured a little
paraffin on the bitten part and put a match to it.
The painful night was long and the holy man came and played his part. He performed his rites
and tried to tame the poison with an incantation. After twenty hours the poison lost its sting.
The ironic twist in the poem comes when in the end the mother who suffered in silence opens her
mouth. She says, Thank God the scorpion picked on me and spared my children.
Night of the Scorpion creates a profound impact on the reader with an interplay of images
relating to good and evil, light and darkness. Then the effect is heightened once again with the
chanting of the people and its magical, incantatory effect. The beauty of the poem lies in that the
mothers comment lands the reader quite abruptly on simple, humane grounds with an ironic
punch. It may even remind the reader of the simplistic prayer of Leo Tolstoys three hermits:
Three are ye, three are we, have mercy upon us.
Indian Background: Ezekiel is known to be a detached observer of the Indian scenario and this
stance often has the power of a double-edged sword that cuts both ways. On the one side Night
of the Scorpion presents an Indian village through the eyes of an outsider and finds the deeprooted strains of superstition and blind faith which may seem foolish to the western eye. But on
the other, the poem never fails to highlight the positive side of Indian village life. The poet does
not turn a blind eye to the fellow-feeling, sympathy and cooperation shown by the villagers. And
in a poem that deals with the all-conquering power of love, the reader too should be well aware
of it.
Clash of Ideas: There is a contrast between the world of irrationality represented by the villagers
and the world of rationalism represented by the father who tries all rational means to save his
wife from suffering. Religion too plays its role with the holy man saying his prayers. But all
three become futile. Or do they? One cannot totally ignore the underlying current of love and
fellow-feeling in their endeavours.
Theme: Images of the dark forces of evil abound in Night of the Scorpion; the diabolic tail of
the scorpion, giant scorpion shadows on the sun-baked walls and the night itself point to evil. In
fact, the poem is about the pertinent question as to what can conquer evil. Where superstition,
rationalism and religion proved futile, the self-effacing love of a mother had its say. Once again
it is Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all, and that is all you need to know.

Untouchable, written by the Indo-English writer Mulk Raj Anand, has a simple but very
uncomfortable, depressing plot. The novels protagonist is "Bhaka", who is an untouchable,
outcast boy. The novel is historical in the sense that it touches upon the caste system, which gave
rise to the practice of Untouchability that was much prevalent in the Indian society.
The entire plot gives an account of events happening in a single day in the life of Bhaka.
It exposes the harsh life and struggles of the so-called Untouchable people. Bhaka doesnt like to
do toilet cleaning. He wants to study and be a learned man. Much of the novels success lies in
the revolutionary idea of education of Untouchables. The outcasts were not allowed to draw
water from wells, enter temples or basically touch anything, as everyone believed that their touch
would make anything impure and corrupt. Bhaka is also mentally and physically abused by the
upper caste Hindus. Pandits, or the upper-caste Hindus, are hypocrites as one of them tries to
touch Sohinis (Bhakas sister) breasts but claims to have been defiled when touched accidentally
by an "Untouchable".
In the end of the novel, Mulk Raj Anand presents three answers to this malpractice. Bhaka is
offered to accept Christianity that has no caste system, and so in this way he will no longer be an
outcast. But Bhaka fears such a religion change, even if that means equal treatment and
opportunity to visit a church. After that Mahatma Gandhi comes to Bhakas village and educates
everyone on Untouchability. Bhaka loves to hear someone talking on behalf of people of his
caste. In the concluding paragraphs, a person randomly comes into the scene and informs
everyone about a machine (toilet-flush machine, perhaps) that will clean faecal matter
automatically, ending manual collection of excreta. Bhaka thinks that this will be a solution to all
his problems.