AENGUS

LOVE SHARED AND UNREQUITED LOVE, AS WELL: TWO STORIES AND A POEM

I want to tell you two stories (myths, really) and let you read a short, powerful poem.  Then, I want to comment briefly on the poem so you may ponder it, too, as I so often find myself doing. I hope it becomes one of your favorites.  Perhaps you will memorize it.

The stories concern Irish myths.  First, is the tale of Prince Conle, who was out on the Hill of Usnech in Ireland one day with his father and attendants when a fairy appeared to him.  She spoke to him of a land where there was neither death nor want, sorrow nor sin, and promised him love and eternal youth if he would follow her there.

Alarmed for his son, the king commanded his druid (a member of the Celtic religion) to sing so as to drown out the fairy’s voice.  Before leaving, however, she threw Conle a magical apple, each bite of which increased his longing for the fairy and the land of which she had spoken.  A month later, the fairy reappeared, and this time Conle followed her onto her ship of crystal and the two sailed away, never to be seen again.

Now, in 1899 the Irish poet, W.B. Yeats (pronounced Yates) published the poem “The Song of the Wandering Aengus.”  He is one of the world’s great poets and you should know of him and of his brilliant works.  Now, this is a second story, similar but vastly different.

THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS

By: W.B. Yeats

WENT out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

 

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And some one called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

 

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

The Aengus is a Celtic god of love and beauty.  (You’re going to despise me for telling you this, but “Celtic” is truly pronounced “Keltic.”  So, yes, they ARE the Boston Keltics, though still spelled with the “C.”  Honestly.  Trust me; I was an attorney.)

Yeats’ poem features not Conle, but another hero of Irish mythology, the Aengus.  This separate story begins one night when a maiden called Caer appears to Aengus in a dream and, sick with love for her, Aengus travels for many years in search of her.  When at last he finds her on the edge of a lake, it is only to discover that she is under an enchantment, forced to live every other year as a swan. Undeterred, Aengus jumps into the lake after her and is also transformed into a swan.  Together they sing songs of such beauty that those who hear them are lulled to sleep.  For a year they live thus, before regaining their human shape.

Yeats’ Aengus in the poem has unfortunately not found Caer yet as otherwise occurs in the myth.  Like Conle, he is consumed with desire for a woman he has glimpsed only once.  Unlike Conle, however, he is condemned to wander eternally in search of the lovely vision, which flits tantalizingly before him, ever just out of reach.  The magical apple Conle is given is echoed by the apple-blossom Aengus’ vision wears in her hair, as well as by the last lines of the poem.  

While the Irish apple is far from embodying sin, the way the Christian apple does in the Bible, it nevertheless does share with it a certain quality, in that it gives the eater a glimpse of something beyond mortal experience and stirs up within him a deep unrest, an unappeasable dissatisfaction with his lot in life.  This longing to transcend human experience will shape their destiny: for ever after, Conle and Aengus will strain towards that elusive vision of loveliness, whether this last stands for love, immortality, or the poetic ideal. Here too, the apple has a fatal power.

What, I wonder, would it be like to always be in search of true love?  I haven’t a clue as I fortunately found mine in 1957 (we were 12 years old & she did not know I was alive until high school.)

As I write this in the fall of 2012 Drusylla Strickland, née Murray, and I have been happily married for 44 years.  Still, Yeats’ poem is a compelling one for many others, and me and though I sometimes feel maudlin when reading it – well, it is so beautifully written I simply cannot turn away.  My heart goes out to all those who have an idea of true love, but haven’t found it.  Yeats’ poem says it all so well.

So listen very carefully,
Closer now and you will see what I mean.
It isn't a dream.
The only sound that you will hear
Is when I whisper in your ear
"I love you forever and ever."

There's a kind of hush all over the world tonight.
All over the world you can hear the sound of lovers in love.

        There’s a Kind of Hush All Over the World Tonight

          Herman’s Hermits (1968)

For your edification, here are just a few explanations about words and other “thingys” in this essay.

“Unrequited” means not returned or reciprocated: unrequited love.

“Myth” means a traditional or legendary story, usually concerning some being or hero or event, with or without a determinable basis of fact or a natural explanation, especially one that is concerned with deities or demigods and explains some practice, rite, or phenomenon of nature.

“Née” (pronounced ‘nay’) means born (placed after the name of a married woman to introduce her maiden name).

“Edification” means instruction for your benefit.

Trust me.

Thanks to the Website Miss Darcy’s Library (http://missdarcyslibrary.wordpress.com/) and Florence Berlioz for research on the poem and myths.

Special thanks go to my love, Drusylla for staying by my side all these many years.  In the second and third year of our marriage she lived in Durham with our infant daughter, Lalenya, when I was in Vietnam and she was emotionally stable even though she never knew for certain if I were hurt, dead or dying.  She has so much moral and physical courage.  God broke the mold when he made Drusylla, as He did not want too much perfection in this world. 

He broke my mold, too, but for an entirely different reason.  If I may quote Charlie Brown, “Sigh.”

[Photograph of the Currituck Beach Lighthouse on the Outer Banks at Corolla, North Carolina by Drusylla Strickland.]