Analysis of The Blessing



When, by a decree of the sovereign power,
The poet makes his appearance in a bored world,
With fists clenched at the horror, his outraged mother
Calls on a pitying God, at whom these curses are hurled:
"Why was I not made to litter a brood of vipers
Rather than conceive this human mockery?
My curses on that night whose ephemeral pleasures
Filled my womb with this avenging treachery!

Since I must be chosen among all women that are
To bear the lifetime's grudge of a sullen husband,
And since I cannot get rid of this caricature,
--Fling it away like old letters to be burned,

On what you have devised for my punishment
I will let all your hate of me rebound,
I will torture this stunted growth until its bent

Branches let fall every blighted bud to the ground!"
And so she prepares herself in
Hell's pit. A place on the pyre made for a mother's crimes,
Blind, in the fury of her foaming hatred,
To the meaning and purpose of the eternal designs.
Meanwhile, under the care of an unseen angel,
The disinherited Child revels in the sun's
Bright force; all that he eats and drinks can fill
Him with memories of the food that was heaven's.
The wind his plaything, any cloud a friend,
The Spirit watching can only weep to see
How in childhood his way of the cross is lightened

With the wild bird-song of his innocent gaiety.
Those he would love look at him with suspicion
Or else, emboldened by his calm, experiment
With various possible methods of exciting derision
By trying out their cruelty on his complaint.
They mix ashes or unspeakable filth with the bread
And the wine of his daily communion, drop
Whatever he may have touched with affected dread,

And studiously avoid wherever he may step.
His mistress, parading her contempt in the street,
Cries: "Since he finds my beauty a thing to worship,
I will be one of the ancient idols he talks about,
And make myself with gold out of the same workshop!
I will never have enough of his kneelings and offerings
Until I am sure that the choice foods, the wines,
The 'nard,' the 'incense,' the 'myrrh' that he brings
He brings as other men would to the Virgin's shrines.
And when I am sick to death of trying not to laugh
At the farce of my black masses,
I'll try the force Of the hand he calls 'frail,' my nails will dig a path
Like harpies', to the heart that beats for me, of course!
Like a nestling trembling and palpitating
I will pull that red heart out of his breast
And throw it down for my favorite dog's eating

--Let him do whatever he likes with the rest!"
A serene piety, lifting the poet's gaze,
Reveals heaven opening on a shining throne,
And the lower vision of the world's ravening rage
Is shut off by the sheet lightnings of his brain.
"Be blessed, oh my God, who givest suffering
As the only divine remedy for our folly,
As the highest and purest essence preparing

The strong in spirit for ecstasies most holy.
I know that among the uplifted legions
Of saints, a place awaits the
Poet's arrival, And that among the
Powers, Virtues, Dominations

He too is summoned to Heaven's festival.
I know that sorrow is the one human strength
On which neither earth nor hell can impose,
And that all the universe and all time's length

Must be wound into the mystic crown for my brows.
But all the treasury of buried Palmyra,
The earth's unknown metals, the sea's pearls,
Mounted by Thy hand, would be deemed an inferior

Glitter, to his diadem that shines without jewels.
For Thou knowest it will be made of purest light
Drawn from the holy hearth of every primal ray,
To which all human eyes, if they were one bright
Eye, are only a tarnished mirror's fading day!"


Scheme ABABCDCD XEAX FGX GXXXHIJXJXDE BKFKXLML XXXXMNHNHXXXXOPO PXXXXODO DJQQC IRXR XAXA XSTST
Poetic Form
Metre 11001101010 010110100011 11110101110 11010011111011 1111111001110 10101110100 1101111010010 11111010100 1111100111011 11011101010 0111011111000 11011110111 11110111100 1111111101 111011010111 1011100101101 01101010 11011010110101 10010101010 10100101001001 11001110110 01110001 1111110111 111001011110 011110101 01010110111 10111101110 10111111001 11111111010 110101110100 1100100101010010 11011101101 1110101001101 00111100101 10111110101 0100001010111 110010001001 111111001110 11111010101101 0111111011 11101011110100 01111101101 0100101111 111101110101 0111111110111 10111110 1101101111111101 11101111111 101010001000 1111111111 011111100110 1111011101 001100100101 011010010101 00101010111 11110110111 1111111100 10100110011010 101001010010 0101011110 11101010010 1101010 1001001010 10101 11110110100 11110101101 1110111101 0110100111 111010101111 1101001101 010110011 1011111110100 101110110110 11111111101 1101011100101 11110111011 111001010101
Closest metre Iambic hexameter
Characters 3,615
Words 670
Sentences 20
Stanzas 11
Stanza Lengths 8, 4, 3, 12, 8, 16, 8, 5, 4, 4, 5
Lines Amount 77
Letters per line (avg) 37
Words per line (avg) 9
Letters per stanza (avg) 259
Words per stanza (avg) 60
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 28, 2023

3:24 min read
58

Charles Baudelaire

Charles Pierre Baudelaire was a French poet who also produced notable work as an essayist, art critic, and pioneering translator of Edgar Allan Poe. more…

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