Michael Longley's Poem: Ceasefire

Image by Colin Davidson

A couple years ago a friend of mine sent me a YouTube clip of a poetry reading by Michael Longley, Ireland Professor of Poetry from 2007–2010. The subject of the poem revolved around the clandestine meeting between King Priam of Troy and Achilles, the warrior who killed and kept the body of Priam’s son, Hector. For some reason the poem has been on my mind for the last month, and so I thought I would post it here for others to also enjoy.

The poem, Longley states, was inspired by a declaration of an IRA ceasefire in the mid ‘90s. At the time Longley happened to be reading Homer’s Iliad—an epic poem about the conflict between the Achaeans and Trojans. The combination of these events produced Longley’s poem, Ceasefire. 

Here is a very brief backstory. Achilles and Hector battled blade-to-blade and Hector fell. Achilles strapped the corpse to his chariot and ruthlessly drug it through the dust back to camp. Priam, later guided safely by Hermes to Achilles’ tent, woefully pleaded with the warrior to return his son’s body to him. Pope renders a beautiful but solemn plea to Achilles by Priam for his son’s body:

“Think of thy father, and this helpless face behold
See him in me, as helpless and as old!
Though not so wretched: there he yields to me,
The first of men in sovereign misery!
Thus forced to kneel, thus groveling to embrace
The scourge and ruin of my realm and race;
Suppliant my children’s murderer to implore,
And kiss those hands yet reeking with their gore!”

Longley’s poem, written in 1994, is his depiction of the same events recorded in the Iliad. His is a four part poem consisting of three unrhymed quatrains and a powerful concluding rhyming couplet. The poem wants to elicit a sense of empathy on the part of Achilles, his ultimate willingness to concede to Priam’s pleas, and Priam’s willingness to humble himself—even before an enemy—to achieve a higher goal.

I imagine that the notion of mutual self-abasement and even a sympathetic understanding in order to achieve a higher and more noble end was in Longley’s mind when scripting this work out. These dispositions certainly seem a prerequisite to any meaningful ceasefire whether it manifests itself in a contemporary armistice, or whether it does so in a temporary annulment of conflict somewhere near the ancient shores of Troy.

Below is Longley’s poem along with his reading of it. Hope you enjoy them both.
Ceasefire

I

Put in mind of his own father and moved to tears

Achilles took him by the hand and pushed the old king

Gently away, but Priam curled up at his feet and

Wept with him until their sadness filled the building.

II

Taking Hector's corpse into his own hands Achilles

Made sure it was washed and, for the old king's sake,

Laid out in uniform, ready for Priam to carry

Wrapped like a present home to Troy at daybreak.

III

When they had eaten together, it pleased them both

To stare at each other's beauty as lovers might,

Achilles built like a god, Priam good-looking still

And full of conversation, who earlier had sighed:

IV

'I get down on my knees and do what must be done

And kiss Achilles' hand, the killer of my son.'

Warfare in Homer's Iliad

In no manner do I glorify warfare, nor am I a devout pacifist. I have mentioned before that the prospect and reality of warfare both horrifies and fascinates me at the same time. I cannot fathom the fact that we have it in ourselves to utterly vanquish one another by means of brutality that darkly transcends the violence we see in the animal kingdom; and at the same time, the methods and strategic means by which we wage war, the competitive ebb and flow of it, intrigues my imagination. Devoid of any morbid fascinations with warfare, it utterly amazes me every time I read passages from Homer’s Iliad how descriptive and poetically visual he renders the violent acts of combat. One of my all time favorite quotes from the Iliad, as I have mentioned in the past, comes from Book 7, lines 275–281:

“War—I know it well, and the butchery of men

Well I know, shift to the left, shift to the right

My tough tanned shield. That’s what the real drill

Defensive fighting means to me. I know it all

How to charge in the rush of plunging horses—

I know how to stand and fight to the finish

Twist and lunge in the War-god’s deadly dance.”

Inasmuch as Homer’s descriptive passages are concerned, and with regard to the language he uses to make their violent acts visibly accessible, below are a hand full that I found to be especially impressive.

“With that he hurled and Athena drove the shaft and it split the archer’s nose between the eye—it cracked his glistening teeth, the tough bronze cut off his tongue at the roots, smashed his jaw and the point came ripping out beneath his chin. He pitched from his car, armour clanged against him, a glimmering blaze af metal dazzling round his back—the purebreds reared aside, hoofs pawing the air and his life and power slipped away on the wind.”

“Eurypylus, chasing Hypsenor fleeing on before him, flailed with a sword, slashed the Trojan’s shoulder and lopped away the massive bulk of Hypsenor’s arm … the bloody arm dropped to the earth, and red death came plunging down his eyes, and the strong force of fate.”

“… Agamemnon lord of men spilled the giant Odius, chief of the Halizonians off his car—the first to fall, as he veered away the spearhead punched his back between the shoulders, gouging his flesh and jutting out through his rids—he fell with a crash, his armour rang against him.”

“Antilochus winged a rock and smashed his elbow—out of his grip the reigns white with ivory flew and slipped to the ground and tangled in the dust. Antilochus sprang, he plunged a sword in his temple and Mydon, gasping, hurled from his bolted car face first, head and shoulders stuck in the dune for a good long time for the sand was deep—his lucky day—till his own horses trampled him down.”

“Meriones caught him quickly, running him down hard and speared him low in the right buttock—the point pounding under the pelvis, jabbed and pierced the blatter—he dropped to his knees, screaming, death swirling around him.”

Ulysses and Calypso: by Edward Robeson Taylor

Ulysses and Calypso

For that they slew the cattle of the Sun

Ulysses’ comrades sank to death while he,

Borne on the billows of the friendly sea,

Calypso’s lovely isle in safety won;

Where filled with soothing rest his days did run

To murmous music’s luring notes as she

Bound him in coils of such captivity,

But that for Zeus his soul had been undone.

The God’s decree the enamored nymph obeyed,

And helped the hero as his raft he made,

While brimmed her heart with desolation’s tears.

His glimmering sail she watched till in the sea’s

Great void ‘twas lost, then moaned because her years

Were not as mortal as Penelope’s. 

Of the Poem

Wow! That is an excellent and powerful poem on many levels. Edward Robeson Taylor did an amazing job capturing the feeling behind this myth and used wonderful imagery from Homer’s classic read, the Odyssey. The story and that last line, man! What a read. And the structure of the poem—believe it or not, this is a widely unacknowledged sonnet form, and Taylor makes great use of it in a significant amount of his works. We will touch on this in another post, but for now, about the poem.

The poet Homer—whether this is an individual or a collective of individuals is an entirely different blog post—is said to have written two major epic poems: the Iliad and the Odyssey. 

The Iliad is about the ten-year siege of the city Troy and the war between the Trojans and Achaeans (Greeks). This war is well known to have been provoked by the ‘abduction’ of Helen by Paris, prince of Troy. It is a wonderful classic and an intense read (totally recommend). 

The Odyssey immediately follows the fall of Troy and is about Ulysses (Odysseus), the king of Ithaca, and his arduous ten-year journey home. The stories of his journey and the crazy events told are many, but for the sake of time and to prevent the temptation of tangents, let us stick with a brief outline that puts Taylor’s poem into some context. 

Because the Trojan war lasted ten-years, and because it took Ulysses ten-years to get back home (you can do the math), by the time he arrived it had been long assumed that Ulysses perished in the war with the Trojans. Because of this, many suitors desiring kingship competed eagerly for the hand of Ulysses’ wife, Penelope. Ulysses was quite aware that he needed to get back to his wife and let her know he is still alive, and still king.

Sailing on his way back, Ulysses and his exhausted crew land on the island of the sun god Helios. When Ulysses fell asleep his men, starving as well as exhausted, fell upon the cattle of the sun god and ate them. Retribution for this act came as they all took sail again: Zeus sends a thunderbolt down utterly destroying their ship. Because “they slew the cattle of the Sun / Ulysses’ comrades sank to death”, while he (Ulysses) won safety on “Calypso’s lovely isle”.

The goddess Calypso, so beautiful that even the gods swoon over the sight of her, finds herself irresistibly enamored by Ulysses—so much so that she prevents him from leaving the celestial paradise of her island: 

To murmous music’s luring notes as she

Bound him in coils of such captivity

Ulysses is stuck there for seven years, and may have been hopelessly stuck there for the rest of his mortal days had Zeus not intervened by sending Hermes to Calypso demanding our stranded hero’s release. As much as she loved Ulysses, Calypso was forced to comply.

But that for Zeus [Ulysses’] soul [would have] been undone

The God’s decree the enamored nymph obeyed

Calypso then helps Ulysses “as his raft he made / While brimmed her heart with desolation’s tears.”

It is only latently implied in the final line of the poem, but before Calypso helps Ulysses build a raft to sail away on, she offers our hero immortality and a life in eternal paradise if only he would choose to stay with her. By the end of the poem his answer to her is an obvious one. 

The poem concludes with Ulysses’ raft disappearing over the horizon of the “sea’s Great void”,  and with our goddess mourning and wishing herself to be mortal like Penelope—ultimately wishing herself dead—than to live eternally without him who she so loved. 

His glimmering sail she watched till in the sea’s

Great void ‘twas lost, then moaned because her years

Were not as mortal as Penelope’s.

Yes! Wonderful subject, excellent write, and enjoyable read. I sometimes wish I could speak with some of these poets of the past and ask what inspired this or that particular topic of the poem, or why they chose the poem’s perspective to be from this or that particular person’s. Notwithstanding, what a great poem. Now, about this poem being an unacknowledged sonnet form, suffice it to say (in this particular post) that Taylor's poem is a sonnet, and that that widely unacknowledged form is the creative byproduct of brilliant French poets. I will dedicate a thorough post to this fact in days to come. Meanwhile, I would love to know what you think of Tayor's poem. Have you ever hear of Edward Robeson Taylor? If so, do you have a particular poem of his you really enjoyed? Or, even better, have you ever written a sonnet based on mythology, or recommend one? I would love to read it if you have, or hear your thoughts with regard to this post. I will do my best to respond to each comment.

The War-God's Deadly Dance

War - I know it well, and the butchery of men
Well I know, shift to the left, shift to the right
My tough tanned shield. That's what the real drill
Defensive fighting means to me. I know it all
How to charge in the rush of plunging horses-
I know how to stand and fight to the finish
Twist and lunge in the War-god's deadly dance.

From the Iliad- Book 7, lines 275-281

I first read these lines in the early 90s. I remember how impressed I was with Homer's use of language, how beautifully strung together words could be, and how I wondered to myself whether I could achieve that kind of depth of expression in my own (prose) writings.

My desire to know and feel and write poetry emerged from a like consideration- this was when, shortly before May of 2008, I read a short passage* from Milton's Paradise Lost ... I found it so incredible a description of Eden's worth that I almost couldn't read prose anymore (indeed, my philosophical studies diminished terribly since that formal acquaintance with Milton and poetry).

From that time on I began to submerge myself in the world of poetry- anything and everything I could learn about or get my hands on! I wanted to know the poets and their poetry; I wanted to know their history; I wanted to learn poetic forms, meters, poetic devises, and every medium utilized by poets to achieve their works ... and so I pursued these, and have since been just as passionate to know everything I can about poetry and those that have taken her hand.

Now whether or not I'm a poet is of little concern to me ... what does concern me, or rather, what moves me is the humble yet powerful desire to express myself creatively. Poetry seems my means.

Do I want to be a Homer or a Milton ... of course not. I only want to be what God intends me to be. Nevertheless, the passion, the Muse that ran furiously through the blood of those poets ... yeah, I want some of that.


*Paradise Lost, Book IV 268 - 275

Not that fair field
Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers,
Herself a fairer flower by gloomy Dis
Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain
To seek her through the world; nor that sweet grove
Of Daphne by Orontes, and the inspired
Castalian spring, might with this Paradise
Of Eden strive...