The poem is cut in my book, and I’m not sure why (Yeats 92-93). Like the poem were insignificant, and it was destined to be cut into two halves. Broken in the middle of the stanza. It is a declaration of the writer’s doubt. Just doubt. The poem can be read in several dozen ways, all of them syntactically accurate. The last line can be an appositive of “Animate”, meaning Yeats is critiquing religion. It can be a stand alone, stream of consciousness declaration of God’s existence, that only God is Animate, and human beings are an “Inanimate Phantasy.” What is known here, is that the author is standing over a dying man. Maybe the man’s soul is animate, but the cause of the war, mankind itself, is inanimate. Yet, the capitalization of “One” does seem to imply God. Though, it could be that Yeats is making the soul eternal by capitalizing the word.
Whichever one interprets it, the whole poem expresses deep doubt. If the thought is read, without interpolation, just as an expressed thought, there seems to be doubt in totality. No conclusion being reached. Not just doubt in God’s existence, but doubt that God doesn’t exist. Simple, profound, doubt. As the Cantonym in the text doesn’t allow it to be read any other way. The Antinomy of something being at once “Animate” and “Inanimate” is one interpretation. Yet, also, separating the two into animate and inanimate—the innate desire for there to be a God is animate, but the values of Mankind, which they fight over, is inanimate. It could express doubt over the religious wars in Ireland. It could express doubt in idealism, patriotism, God…
All the poem is, is doubt. A man is dying. His artery is hemorrhaging. Whether there is or is not a God is not important to the poem. The poem is simply expressing the doubts, which are meditations in wartime. As it is, when death is so close, a man lays to bear all philosophical notions, and rather tends to the immediate realization that human beings are mortal.
An interpolation into the poem might say, “He is affirming that there is not a God.” Very well, one could read it this way. But, why then include the antinomy between animate and inanimate? Belief in God is both animate and inanimate? Possibly. Though, I don’t think that is what the author is saying, otherwise there would be several dozen clearer ways of expressing it.
If read in its totality, the poem is simply doubt. There is no other theme, and this doubt is central to Yeats’ writing. Being confronted by war, idealism, crystalized versions of ideologies that sway people to fight one another, it can only inspire doubt. Nobody in combat, with a brethren dying, sees it in themselves to say, “Death is the end of this man.” Frankly, he does not know. He neither knows enough to say, “God is God is good to save this man.”
We Christians often get a bad wrap in this world for being totally sure, often at inappropriate times. When confronted with this scenario, it is cold not to doubt. One might, also, read the poem as a staggering declaration of belief in God; because if the last line is read as a parallelism and not an appositive, the entire poem becomes a cantonym. From the cantonym one is left with struggling against Negative Capability, or rather, if the poet were very clever—and Yeats is—a synergy between the two bold assertions. That being doubt. Which neither vulgar assertion can be totally accurate; therefore, neither can be expressed in totality; the work is simply the author’s doubt while gazing upon the wounded on a battlefield.
Yeats, William Butler. William Butler Yeats Selected Poems and Four Plays. Scribner Paperback Poetry, 1996.
All wisdom failed. All prophecies never came true. A million contradicting voices And mine is one of them. I suppose I do not prophesy. I tell stories. Stories that curdle the imagination, And often feel like dreams. We often do disservice to our philosophers. We often do disservice to our novelists. Those are the true prophets. I hear a thousand and one prophecies, Yet none of them ever come true. They speak, they talk, they go over a million times. Yet, what is the prophecy that came true? They say, "Revival in the summer." There is no revival. They say, "A great harvest." There is no great harvest. One prophet said there would be a great harvest, And him I'll believe. For, he has the authority I look for Which is sobriety. Yet a million and one prophets All get it wrong. They predict the rapture, But it never comes. They predict the end, But it doesn't come. They desire it with all their little hearts But thankfully, God spares their foolish dreams And forgives them their errant prophecies. How many false prophecies have I spoken? Yet I don't pretend like I have never told A single lie. I understand that if my vision does not come true I am liable to the court and judgment and death. Yet, they break my faith with every one of their prophecies For it never comes to fruition. Save a few here and there who I find trustworthy. Milton was a prophet Who saw that astronomy would lead many astray. Nietzsche was a prophet Who understood that if God didn't exist, neither did morality. Tolstoy was a prophet Who understood that civilization moves its predestined course; there is no changing it. Dostoevsky was a prophet For though he doubted God, he believed wholeheartedly in His morality. There is an old proverb, "You are neither hot, nor cold. "Buy from me wisdom, and gold refined by fire." For our prophets are hidden because the peoples give them no honor. Instead, they listen to the pop-culture ideas And the chemical imbalances that make the world look upon us And say we're crazy. No, not you, who said that December will be a harvest. I know you are true. One in a million. Yet, the prophets all prophesy a lie. The lie is that I once, too, had a rapture dream. Several of course. It was not prophecy. It was merely the thoughts running through my mind. Though, I get caught up, Wanting there to be a rapture. I truly do. I want to fly up into the heavens And be met with Christ on the trumpet's sound. I do not want to suffer on the earth Anymore than anyone else. It's just the destiny of this writer To see the truth. For, I am a true interpreter. I see billions who know nothing of Christ. I see frantic Christians prophesying the end is near. And I see the religion dying Because no one is sober enough to understand. Yet, one prophet keenly said the religion will not die, For there will be a harvest. I await this harvest, with humble expectation. For, if it comes, it means I shall not be alone. And I say this soberly. There will be a great falling away. As is prophesied. For, God's wrath is true. But, do I believe that every profession of faith Will be a ticket to avoid suffering? No... for there are many that will say "LORD, LORD," And be told to depart. Those are the men who said, "Grace! Grace!" and yet they had no change of heart. I am the man who's had a change of heart. For the religion will not die in my heart. For I know my God is true. And when I read Yeats or Byron I understand them. For, they are prophets, too. They give me introspection Into the hearts of man; Like Balaam, I can understand Why a man wants loveless sex. I can understand why a man's lust Leads them astray. And with that understanding, I can benefit the doubting And say, "No, I do not doubt. "For I see the order of the universe "And I see the construction of the Word of God "Behind every act, large or small. "I see the strings of creation "The Twelve Universes "Layered one upon each other. "I understand all things "That are in my grasp to understand. "I see the invisible strings of faith "That prove God exists. "As the world doubts him "Harder and harder "I grow to understand "That indeed God does exist. "I understand that He is Jesus. "Even if none else do "I understand why God had to Come in the Flesh "Why God had to die. "I understand sin... "Deep and ill tempered within me. "I understand war, "Why it happens, "Why men kill each other... "How wicked men slaughter one another "For glory, while peaceful men shiver." And I say all of this Without a doubt that Jesus is the Christ. I see it. Like Euclid could find God in his Elements I can find God in the certainty of the universe. I can see God in the sin I've had in my heart. For I've seen very few good people in my life. And hell exists because there are few good upon the earth. And heaven exists because there are those of us Who are good, and our hearts get twisted In wrenching pain because the kindness we understand Doesn't seem to be known.
To know the truth, All radicals are used. All political activists are used. We suffer because of our criminal records Because a mistake made ten years ago Keeps us from ever kneading our bread. Thus, some resort to theft Some resort to violence. Some resort to dealing smack. Some, they become homeless, And live in humble poverty. What does the outrage produce, However? Like any rebel, they march toward the destruction Of all they love. All that is loved gets trampled under foot As political activists march in the streets And destroy the pleasures they love. Civilization is delicate. If there were more reasonable men Rather than political zealots, We'd be far better off. Yet, change never came from activism... It only destroyed and broke The things we loved. I say this... My magnum opus was about a man Who lived in his Utilitarian utopia. And, trying to change it he led it to its collapse. Understand, that I know there are forces That hate this country. Just, the pleasures it has produced for us The food, the streets, the plumbing, the electricity, The shelter, there's not complete evil. Rather, all that needs changed Is that if a man has a criminal record He get it expunged. For, I too have been harassed by police And I am white. I get treated the same way as a black man Because I have a criminal record. Ought I have this sentence hang over me my whole life? The answer is no. And that is all that needs changed, In my estimation. Change that, and there will be the paradise we all desire. And such a thing is very easily changed. It doesn't require it that we burn down our cities. It doesn't require it that we riot in the streets. Rather, it requires the ratification of congress That all criminal records, After the sentence is fully served Get expunged, at no expense to the defendant. And, with that, a thief can work to knead his bread A prostitute can have the chance to do something other than make herself dirty A drug dealer can become a salesman. That way, the true criminals Those who aren't under compulsion or necessity Cen be caught again, And placed under their respective chains. Woe unto them that keep a record of sin.
There was a bird that got caught in one of our mouse traps. It was one of the glue kind. Its wings got ripped up. I wanted to save it so bad, but I knew it would never have a good life. So, I killed it. It was only the second animal that I killed. I say that because I feel bad about doing it, but I had no other choice. It would never fly again, it would never heal. Its wings were so mangled by the trap. I would have severely hurt it by trying to get it out of the trap. Severely. It would have been torturous. I just thought to myself, that if I were born to fly, and I had no chance of ever flying again, I would want to die. The thing and I both recognized it right away. He looked at me in such a way that I'll never forget. We both knew, him and I. So, I made it quick and painless. I won't describe what I did, but it was dead within five seconds. The proverb in scripture says there's a Season to Kill. We often don't realize that as humans. We want peace and love, but sometimes there can be no peace. It's the deepest part of morality. There's reasons for evil to exist. In that circumstance, what I did was evil, but it was the appropriate time to commit evil. Because had I been kind to the bird, I would have severely hurt the bird, and it would have lived an empty life. There was no rescuing it. A lot of people decry war, but sometimes it's inevitable and must be done. Sometimes there must be death. I wish we'd learn that about Covid. Rather than make everyone suffer, I wish we'd realize there's a time to allow death to take its natural course.
There are men, Who knowing calculus And biology Can save mankind from a virus. To all intents and purposes I lay my hat bear to such a one as this. However, there is an even crueler virus And that is the virus of misunderstanding. It is a virus of men talking But no one listening. It is a critical ear, That scrutinizes all ideas Save the one engendered in the solipsist mind. If we are to ever grow And take this second chance we are given... The smartest man in the world Might save us from living like hermits. But, if we never learn how to understand one another There will be crisis after crisis. Some say that they wish to remove the humanities From the curriculum. Yet the humanities are our most important subject. For, from them, we enter the gateway To understanding each other. And no, not ourselves.
The thing that differs a man of high intelligence With a man of genius Is that a man of high intelligence Disdains the greater bulk of humankind While a genius learns to accept their follies. It often is this distinction that Allows a man of higher intelligence To write the most scathing rebukes of human kind. The Genius, however, finds their follies too far removed, So therefore, gets sucked into his work And never meddles in their affairs For he understands them better Than the man of high intelligence. The man of high intelligence, however Is in a state of strange benefit In that he is almost close enough To the average man That he can understand their follies So therefore, steer them where he will. For he neither understands their follies But like a Daemon Shares the folly, but has the intelligence To resent it in himself. Therefore, men of high intelligence Are usually who end up in the leader class While a Genius is too far removed For he sees neither the flaws of the common lay In him, but sees in them something Affable, which he can study from afar Like he always does with his instruments.
A beat poet. A lot of people don't realize that. Writing in the Neo-classical style, Or as one writer put it, The New Classical. Never mind convention, And say what's felt. KLF and 2 Unlimited Camila Cabello The Eagles, Johnny Cash And Tchaikovsky It infuses the writing With its beats With its sound. Write large, Write small. Be simple Complex Be grounded. Beauty comes in every style Yet make the words beautiful Or the style is worthless. Imbue the sounds of the art of music Put it into the work And listen to the lyrics. Shifting, making melody, changing the rhythms. Want the strong stuff Sing the melodies. Get a beat, get a rhythm Meditate, get lost in the writing. A simple poem sometimes is best. A simple word, A simple sound. Know it, Let it be felt. One other thing. Get the "I" out of writing.
Canto I Upon the pass there came Sir Lucan And His squire Beowulf the Less. Beowulf the Less had a page Gregory. Gregory, the page, armored Beowulf From head to toe. He latched on helmet, Shield, shoe, girded Beowulf with His sword Gwyndylyn. Beowulf had aegis Strapped to his chest. However, Beowulf's helmet was weakened By a blow taken in mortal combat. Beowulf had slewn a man down in dishonorable show Of arms, where he and a knight Valiant Took to blows in the ring of combat. This knight threw down his gauntlet So Beowulf picked it up. Sir Lucan was Beowulf's Knight, and this knight beckoned Beowulf to stay home, And not to pick up the gauntlet. Yet, Beowulf picked up the gauntlet; And thus, battle was struck. The two warriors showed, down in the arena While Lucan watched, with scowl on his mug. Arthur sanctioned the tournament As Page Gregory was with damsel Thus, he did not throw in his lot to stop the tournament. It took to blows, the black knight, Called Sir Rancor, first took his sword And smote it down upon Beowulf's head. Beowulf took the blow; Sowith, his helmet cracked; Thus, Beowulf became wroth Who took his shield and smote Sir Rancor upon the breast, and Smote down his sword upon Sir Rancor's head. Blood poured out of Sir Rancors joints As Sir Rancor took to a blow At Beowulf's shield Bowing the shield with his chain mace. Beowulf, without helmet nor shield Acquiesced for the battle, And took his sword and ran it through Sir Rancor's Joint, by the armpit. Sir Rancor fell wounded, But took a dagger from his leg And shafted the weapon Into Beowulf's ankle Breaking his shoe's belt. Beowulf was uninjured; however, Taking his sword, he smote it down upon Sir Rancor's head. The knight fell, to wit, Beowulf drove his sword Into the heart of Sir Rancor Who lie on the ground, wounded. Arthur saw that the knight was dead So called the tournament closed Where Beowulf lost all his armor And Sir Rancor was lain smitten on the field of battle. Beowulf expected to be knighted for the feat However, Arthur saw no honor in this feud. Thus, Beowulf was yet still a squire. Beowulf saw the disdain on Lucan's face And saw he had disgraced his knight valiant. Lucan who would be later slain in battle To the Caerbanog, was disgruntled with Beowulf. For some say, this led Lucan to the Caerbanog's forest For he would no longer listen to sweet Beowulf. Page Gregory was not there to help Beowulf And Lucan was furious with Beowulf For accepting the challenge of so unworthy a knight. It came to be that Beowulf and Lucan had a quest Together. To shut up the Nile Dragon Who would attempt to Swallow the Daughter of Zion On that day. Beowulf and Lucan left In their armor, and Gregory Left Beowulf with these words: "Lucan cannot be trusted, "Do not believe a word he says "And be wary and wily of the things he does. "For Lucan is a savvy knight "Who only thinks of himself." Beowulf considered it, But knew it was not true. However, Lucan was furious with Beowulf For smiting the knight Rancor. Thus, Beowulf and Lucan set off on their journey. They would crusade down to Egypt. The Nile Dragon knew that they came, Thus he employed Nebo and Abaddon To come With the Elf Meogic And thus, cause Lucan more anger At his squire. Nebo came with his daughters Seventeen Thousand And Abaddon came with only himself. The two were chosen to be Pharaohs Kings of Egypt, And if they would slay Beowulf They would retain Egypt For themselves. Canto II It came to be, that in the salt valleys of Meggedon, Abaddon sought To conspire and therefore slay Beowulf the Less. Lucan and Beowulf---Gregory not behooved to come, For he could not--- Were on steed, Beowulf with Chantz And Lucan with his steed Crevan. Where Beowulf camped, Abaddon snatched him from his bed And took Beowulf to a village Where Beowulf would dream half his life away For sleep was better than the waking hour; Beowulf was captured by Abaddon Hencewith, he was brought to the low valleys. Now it was Abaddon who travelled with Lucan. Abaddon filled his mouth with many flatteries Toward Lucan. The two set out on the quest, but Abaddon was foolish, and no wisdom was in him. He did not slay Beowulf For he enjoyed the man's riddles. Thencewith, Abaddon walked with Sir Lucan Through the valleys of Meggedon Until they came to Africa's Gate. The two passed through But Abaddon was exceedingly happy, And more foolish than Lucan remembered Beowulf to be. However, Lucan fell to love Abaddon--- Because of his joy--- Like he were a son, and so pardoned Abaddon. For Lucan was enchanted. They walked for days Through the desert With its barren crags And salt rocks. It came upon the warfield, Nebo And his hordes of Daughters. Nebo, on his steed with leather skin, Was untransmogrified by the elf jewel; Thus, showed himself for what he truly be. He was leathery, and his ears a point; He was fat, and round, and gluttonous, His teeth were yellow And his lips were thin. His skin the color of ash, He had a face which was horrible To behold. Lucan mounted up on Crevan, And hoisted her javelin. "Beowulf, I have enjoyed your company "On this journey, yet now I go out to ride "Against this beast." Abaddon creased his lips into a grin Because he had loosened Lucan's armor When placing it upon him As was a squire's duty. Lucan hoisted up, and flung for Nebo. The seventeen thousand daughters of Nebo Flung down the mountain Into the bowled valley. The battle was gruesome As blood poured into rivers Through the ravines. Lucan had slaughtered so many Of Nebo's daughters. Nebo, thus, flung into a fit of rage And transformed himself Into a Giant. Lucan fell to a flight yet Lanced the Giant's foot; However, Lucan's armor joints came undone in battle And he was bare before the Giant's wrath. Abaddon danced a wicked dance And joined the fight against Lucan. He rushed at Lucan on Chantz However, Chantz knew 'twas Abaddon. So, Chantz stopped in mid gallop; Sofore, throwing Abaddon off his back. Lucan retreated toward Abaddon Trampling him with horse's hooves Seeing that he was not Beowulf But was Abaddon. Lucan fell into a sore fright That he was without his squire. Thus, Lucan galloped as fast as he could out of the battlefield. He had found himself in the Nile, And so discovered the black, fertile soil. There began to grow a vine from it And it shot out large, and heaved itself Upward. It grew tall into the sky Like the Tower of Babble, And it sprouted smaller vines from without it, Lit; it were starflesh. The Sphynx was spreading his vine All throughout the world A verdant weed, it Raised into the sky, and spread itself across the entirety of the earth. Lucan felt frightened, As he drew back on Crevan and galloped Toward his dominion. Lucan was no coward but saw that this vine had spread Throughout he whole of the world, And who was he to fight it? Howsofore, there came one who was beautiful. He took Lucan by the hand, And told him, "Do not give up on your son "He needs you and your love at this very hour. "For, Egypt is spreading its vine throughout the whole of the earth "And you must help him "By fighting back the fear "Of this vine, "To showing him that he is still loved." Lucan had received a vision of Beowulf Encased in a place where he was rendered useless. Thus, Lucan had to go rescue him. For Gregory could not As only Lucan's love could free Beowulf from his curse. Only Lucan's forgiveness, and alliance Could free Beowulf from this unholy trap. Canto III It came to be that Sir Lucan travelled into The heart of Egypt, To the Tombs of the ancient Pharaohs. The Sphynx prowled With shifting shoulder blades. There rose mummies From their crypts Five of the pharaohs of the past. The Sphynx spake, "Lucan, if you can beat me "I shall spare thee from the Caerbanog. "And thy squire Beowulf shall live." Lucan, upon Crevan, hoisted up his javelin. "I will be angry with my squire "For fighting his feud with the Knight Rancor. "However, I see that he is a man. "And he has made his own choices." The Sphynx spake, "Choices, yes. "He has made many choices, "And smote down the knight Rancor. "And for this, we see you cannot forgive him." The mummies flung toward Lucan And it was all Lucan could do to stay Upon his steed. He would slash the mummies He would kill them Only to have them resurrect themselves With their moving limbs. "You do not know the moegic of Egypt. "These are stronger than Orcs "And cannot be killed "By one who harbors anger." "Beowulf was my friend, "My companion from long ago. "Now, he is broody "And sad, and I do not know if I can love him the same "For his sadness is of his own making." The Sphynx said, "Then, Lucan, he shall die." Lucan fell upon his knees As Crevan Whinnied. "He will die?" "Of course, a man cannot bear the despair "Of having one so close to him "Perpetually angry. "For, Beowulf is entrapped by his own despair. "And that despair we are using to fuel "The spreading of this vine "Which shall feed on the world's joy "And it shall replace all joy with despair "Just like your son's. "For his grief is a weapon "We use to throw down the nations "And to give them no joy henceforth. "How can a man who is innocent "Have no joy? It can only be "That Pharaoh's vine "Recompense the world "Double for what it has done to Beowulf." Lucan then spake, "What has the world done to Beowulf?" The Sphynx spake, "The world? "What had it done "But cast him into shame "Through its unforgiveness? "Beginning with yours "Which was harbored long before "He smote down Sir Rancor. "For, you had resented him "Ever since he had chosen "Gregory as his Page." Nebo and Abaddon receded into the corridor And drew their swords. "Now, see, Lucan, I can save you "From the Caerbenog, "The Fairy lORD "If you defeat me." The Sphynx grew haughty. "What are you Sphynx?" Cried Lucan. The Sphynx said, "I? I am the flow of the times." The five mummies flung forth To maul Lucan And Abaddon and Nebo Attacked her At once. It began to grow into a horrendous feud As the seven fought mortal combat. No matter how much they fought The seven prevailed over Lucan. Lucan saw the Sphynx Prowling like a lion From without the battle. "Yes, Lucan, I am the Zeitgeist. "I am the thing you cleave to. "Surrender Beowulf, "For he is not your son." Lucan cried out a mighty roar, "Lucan is my son!" And so she threw her lance In a mighty strike against the Sphynx's Chest. It sunk deep into the Sphynx. The Sphynx was smitten. He fell dead upon the bier of the golden Tombs. The Sphynx was dead. There came from time the Caerbonog As it spread forth from the vines. For the vines were the Caerbonog. It lit its fiery glow, Yet, Beowulf flung from his sleep Where the Caerbonog hid him. Beowulf took Lucan And galloped with him From without the Pyramid. The whole of Egypt quaked, As Nebo and Abaddon Rushed from the tombs. Pharaoh was dead And the mummies were crushed From beneath the pyramid's falling Aedicules. The Caerbanog was spread throughout the whole land. Abaddon and Nebo disappeared from without the pyramid. After which, a quake, And the Caerbanog fell 'pon A hard fall; Its verdant vines Turned to ashen yellow. "Wot not you that thou would have perished "To this cruel vine "Had you not saved me from this "My spell?" Spake Beowulf. Lucan saw that the deuterocanons Of the analogs of Fairyland Were now altered. The Caerbannog was defeated. Thus, Beowulf could live his happy life. Thus, Beowulf lived happily ever after.
It came to be, that in the salt valleys of Meggedon, Abaddon sought To conspire and therefore slay Beowulf the Less. Lucan and Beowulf---Gregory not behooved to come, For he could not--- Were on steed, Beowulf with Chantz And Lucan with his steed Crevan. Where Beowulf camped, Abaddon snatched him from his bed And took Beowulf to a village Where Beowulf would dream half his life away For sleep was better than the waking hours; Beowulf was captured by Abaddon Hencewith, he was brought to the low valleys. Now it was Abaddon who travelled with Lucan. Abaddon filled his mouth with many flatteries Toward Lucan. The two set out on the quest, but Abaddon was foolish, and no wisdom was in him. He did not slay Beowulf For he enjoyed the man's riddles. Thencewith, Abaddon walked with Sir Lucan Through the valleys of Meggedon Until they came to Africa's Gate. The two passed through But Abaddon was exceedingly happy, And more foolish than Lucan remembered Beowulf to be. However, Lucan fell to love Abaddon--- Because of his joy--- Like he were a son, and so pardoned Abaddon. For Lucan was enchanted. They walked for days Through the desert With its barren crags And salt rocks. It came upon the warfield, Nebo And his hordes of Daughters. Nebo, on his steed with leather skin. Was untransmogrified by the elf jewel; Thus, showed himself for what he truly be. He was leathery, and his ears a point; He was fat, and round, and gluttonous, His teeth were yellow And his lips were thin. His skin the color of ash, He had a face which was horrible To behold. Lucan mounted up on Crevan, And hoisted her javelin. "Beowulf, I have enjoyed your company "On this journey, yet now I go out to ride "Against this beast." Abaddon creased his lips into a grin Because he had loosened Lucan's armor When placing it upon him As was a squire's duty. Lucan hoisted up, and flung for Nebo. The seventeen thousand daughters of Nebo Flung down the mountain Into the bowled valley. The battle was gruesome As blood poured into rivers Through the ravines. Lucan had slaughtered so many Of Nebo's daughters. Nebo, thus, flung into a fit of rage And transformed himself Into a Giant. Lucan, fell to a flight, yet Lanced the Giant's foot; However, Lucan's armor joints came undone in battle And he was bare before the Giant's wrath. Abaddon danced a wicked dance And joined the fight against Lucan. He rushed at Lucan on Chantz However, Chantz knew it was Abaddon. So, Chantz stopped in mid gallop Sofore throwing Abaddon off his back. Lucan retreated toward Abaddon Trampling him with horse's hooves Seeing that he was not Beowulf But was Abaddon. Lucan fell into a sore fright That he was without his squire. Thus, Lucan galloped as fast as he could out of the battlefield. He had found himself in the Nile, And so discovered the black, fertile soil. There began to grow a vine from it And it shot out large, and heaved itself Upward. It grew tall into the sky Like the Tower of Babble, And it sprouted smaller vines from without it Lit it were starflesh. The Sphynx was spreading his vine All throughout the world A verdant weed, it Raised into the sky, and spread itself across the entire of the earth. Lucan felt frightened, As he drew back on Crevan and galloped Toward his dominion. Lucan was no coward but saw that this vine had spread Throughout he whole of the world, And who was he to fight it? Howsofore, there came one who was beautiful. He took Lucan by the hand, And told him, "Do not give up on your son "He needs you and your love at this very hour. "For, Egypt is spreading its vine throughout the whole of the earth "And you must help him "By fighting back the fear "Of this vine, "To showing him that he is still loved." Lucan had received a vision of Beowulf Encased in a place where he was rendered useless. Thus, Lucan had to go rescue him. For Gregory could not As only Lucan's devotion could free Beowulf from this curse. Only Lucan's forgiveness, and alliance Could free Beowulf from this unholy trap.