Dr. James Henry's "The Drunken Sea" (a parody on "The Sea" by B.W.
Proctor)
that became somewhat popular at the outset of the Washingtonian
period here
as well as in Great Britain is one of my favorites. It's time was
well before the barroom
and even the saloon scene. I really like the outdoorsy quality to
the inebriist focus.
To me, Proctor's original also seems to have a sympathy with
inebriety behind it's
emotional thrust. Proctor was in the circle of writers who were not
known as teetotalers. And
of course, sailors were notorious drinkers whose careers were just
beginning to be influenced
by temperance.
I give you "The Drunken Sea" first.
Dave
PS. Collecting members favorite authors and titles could create a
nice bibliography.
-------------
The Drunken Sea - (a parody on the favorite song of “The Sea”)
By Dr. James Henry of Dublin,
Ireland, 1841
The sea the sea the Drunken Sea;
The blue, the fresh. the ever free, the ever free.
Without a mark, without a bound.
It runneth the earth's wide regions round;
It plays with the soul, it mocks the skies.
Or like a cradled monster lies,
Or like a cradled monster lies.
I’m on the sea, the Drunken Sea;
I am where I would ever be.
With heaven above, and hell below
And ruin wheresoe’er I go.
If a storm should come, and awake the deep.
What matter, what matter, I shall ride and sleep.
What matter, what matter, I shall ride and sleep.
I love, oh, how I love, to ride to ride
On the fierce the foaming madd’ning tide!
When every wild wave drowns the moon,
Or whistles aloft its tempest tune;
And tells of Soberland far below.
And how on the horrors the storm doth blow,
And how on the horrors the storm doth blow.
I never was on the Sober shore,
But I loved the Drunk Sea more and more.
And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest.
And a mother she was and is to me,
For I was born, was born on the Drunken Sea,
For I was born, was born on the Drunken Sea.
The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour, in the noisy hour when I was born;
The storm it whistled, the thunder roll’d.
And the lightning seam’d the skies with gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild,
As welcomed to life the Drunk Sea's child,
As welcomed to life the Drunk Sea's child.
I have lived since then in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a jovial life.
With wealth to spend and a power to range,
And never have sought or sigh’d for change;
And death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come, shall come, on the Drunken Sea
Shall come, shall come, on the Drunken Sea.
Chambers's Edinburgh Journal Pub. William Chambers, Robert Chambers
Volume IX, 1841 p. 359
---------------
A Song of the Sea
By Bryan Waller Procter: ("Barry Cornwall")
The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round;
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.
I'm on the Sea! I'm on the Sea!
I am where I would ever be;
With the blue above, and the blue below,
And silence wheresoe'er I go;
If a storm should come and awake the deep,
What matter? I shall ride and sleep.
I love (oh! how I love) to ride
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
When every mad wave drowns the moon,
Or whistles aloft his tempest tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the south-west blasts do blow.
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great Sea more and more,
And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
And a mother she was and is to me;
For I was born on the open Sea.
The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
And teh whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild
As welcomed to life the Ocean-child!
I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a sailor's life,
Withe wealthe to spend, and a power to range,
But never have sought nor sighed for change;
And Death whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wide unbounded Sea!
On Feb 21, 2009, at 4:09 PM, Bradley Kadel wrote:
> Given our round table last month on writers and alcohol, I thought
> the following from Brian McDonald might be of particular interest.
> Be sure to look at the comments, for you'll find many more
> suggestions of titles wherein alcohol plays a prominent role, as
> the author's trusty muse or the subject for exploration through
> characters and places.
>
> http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/20/under-the-literary-
> influence/?emc=eta1http://proof.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/02/20/under-
> the-literary-influence/?emc=eta1
>
> Would it be too much to ask list members for their own favorite
> authors and titles?
>
> For my part, I don't think anyone in the twentieth century
> described gritty barroom intoxication better than James Farrell,
> especially in the last volume of his Studs Lonnigan trilogy. Of
> course Farrell's writing is quite dark, and certainly the tone of
> most writers describing drunkenness shifts considerably by the
> early 1960s. Ideas?
>
> Brad Kadel
> Fayetteville State University
>
> *************************************************
>
> A writer, I think, is someone who pays attention to the world. That
> means trying to understand, take in, connect with, what wickedness
> human beings are capable of; and not be corrupted - made cynical,
> superficial - by this understanding.
>
> Literature can tell us what the world is like.
>
> Literature can give us standards and pass on deep knowledge,
> incarnated in language, in narrative.
>
> Literature can train, and exercise, our ability to weep for those
> who are not us or ours.
>
>
> From Susan Sontag's acceptance speech on the occasion of being
> awarded the Friedenspreis des Deutschen Buchhandels,
> the Peace Prize of the German Book Trade.
>
>
>
>