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When thou didst entice to thee my heart,
I thought the service brave:
So many joys I writ down for my part,
Besides what I might have
Out of my stock of natural delights,
Augmented with thy gracious benefits.
I looked on thy furniture so fine,
And made it fine to me:
Thy glorious household-stuff did me entwine,
And 'tice me unto thee.
Such stars I counted mine: both heav'n and earth
Paid me my wages in a world of mirth.
What pleasures could I want, whose King I served?
Where joys my fellows were?
Thus argu'd into hopes, my thoughts reserved
No place for grief or fear.
Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place,
And made her youth and fierceness seek thy face.
At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses;
I had my wish and way:
My days were straw'd with flow'rs and happiness;
There was no month but May.
But with my years sorrow did twist and grow,
And made a party unawares for woe.
My flesh began unto my soul in pain,
Sicknesses cleave my bones;
Consuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein,
And tune my breath to groans.
Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believed,
Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived.
When I got health, thou took'st away my life,
And more; for my friends die:
My mirth and edge was lost; a blunted knife
Was of more use than I.
Thus thin and lean without a fence or friend,
I was blown through with ev'ry storm and wind.
Whereas my birth and spirit rather took
The way that takes the town;
Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,
And wrap me in a gown.
I was entangled in the world of strife,
Before I had the power to change my life.
Yet, for I threatened oft the siege to raise,
Not simpring all mine age,
Thou often didst with Academic praise
Melt and dissolve my rage.
I took thy sweetened pill, till I came where
I could not go away, nor persevere.
Yet lest perchance I should too happy be
In my unhappiness,
Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me
Into more sicknesses.
Thus doth thy power cross-bias me; not making
Thine own gift good, yet me from my ways taking.
Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me
None of my books will show:
I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree;
For sure I then should grow
To fruit or shade: at least some bird would trust
Her household to me, and I should be just.
Yet though thou troublest me, I must be meek;
In weakness must be stout.
Well, I will change the service, and go seek
Some other master out.
Ah my dear God! though I am clean forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.
George Herbert
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Read poems about / on: grief, sorrow, change, power, food, trust, happiness, birth, happy, tree, friend, world, fear, lost, pain, wind, star, believe, hope
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Comments about this poem (Affliction
by
George Herbert
) |
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comments about this poem (Affliction by
George Herbert
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Amrita Ajay
(4/3/2009 7:08:00 AM) |
The poem is also interesting in how it contains elements of Moderinsm and Existentialism, and foreshadows the works of later poets like Alfred Lord Tennyson and T.S. Eliot. In that sense, Herbert finds a prominent place in the larger tradition of 'dark night of the soul' writing, from the early 16th century to the present.
Also in narrativising experience through the medium of poetry, it raises questions of authorial self-construction, agency and activism. Although the issues are not explicitly explored, they are obvious to the modern reader's eye.
It is interesting how Herbert posits the persona as being a 'passive' object to God's authoritarian manipulations. He claims almost to have been forced into the vocation against his wishes. Nothing in his own life validates a situation like this. This is where the question of genuineness of his doubts and woes needs examination.
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Michael Pruchnicki
(1/3/2009 9:28:00 AM) |
Who hasn't despaired in a moment of weakness and fear of the unknown? Straw has that right in his 'dark night of the soul' comment. A novel entitled THE POWER AND THE GLORY by English author Graham Greene demonstrates the dilemma faced by George Herbert's speaker in 'Affliction.' The main character in the novel is a drunken and lecherous priest who withstands political persecution in the Mexico of the revolution that drove out priests and nuns.
The priest in the novel and the speaker begin their religious vocations in high hope and with ardent enthusiasm for a life devoted to Christ - 'There was no month but May.' Herbert was an Anglican priest himself who led a conflicted life of secular ambition and the urge to pursue a religious vocation. The poem reflects Herbert's anxiety about his vocation and fate despite his success as priest and scholar - 'I took thy sweetened pill...' The books on his library shelves do not contain the comfort he seeks, indeed he would prefer to be a tree that might grow to be useful for fruit or shade, or as a place for birds to nest in. When Herbert died he was esteemed as a saint and great poet. Today he is considered to be one of the great metaphysical poets of his time and ours. Though the 'whiskey priest' in Graham's novel dies by a firing squad of Mexican troops, he is elevated to a kind of Christ in the eyes of a younger generation who respect his sacrifice as a sign of his faith!
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Kevin Straw
(1/3/2009 6:54:00 AM) |
There is a dark night of the soul even in the holiest of people (Mother Teresa questioned her faith) . This poem is near the mortal sin of despair, the writer even cries to God to forsake him if his love for Him is false. This is poetry at its absolute best, thought and feeling each in total control to reflect the tension at the heart of the writer. One is reminded of great religious music, like Bach's St Matthew Passion.
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Mrs Poonam Valera
(11/24/2008 12:49:00 AM) |
so far as the title of the poem is concerned, here affliction means spiritual pangs. when the poet was directed to the grace of god, he expected a number of benefits from his grace like heavenly pleasures and so on.
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quercus ...
(1/3/2007 3:45:00 PM) |
very deep and touching write...well, this time it doesn't sound like a prayer, but a complaint of someone who has lost his faith and love...
Powerful!
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