Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

FIRST BOOK OF ODES: 10. CHORUS OF FURIES, by BASIL BUNTING Poet Analysis Poet's Biography

"First Book of Odes: 10. Chorus of Furies" by Basil Bunting is a stark, vivid portrayal of inner turmoil and psychological despair, drawing heavily on classical mythology to illustrate the depths of human suffering. The poem is a dialogue with darkness, where the Furies, ancient deities of vengeance, embody the relentless self-recrimination and guilt that can inhabit the human psyche. Bunting crafts a narrative that is both timeless and intensely personal, exploring the shadowy recesses of the mind through the lens of myth.

The poem begins with a reference to the "feroce Erine" (fierce Furies), setting the tone for an exploration of the darker aspects of human consciousness. The Furies, known in Greek mythology for pursuing wrongdoers with unrelenting vengeance, are invoked here not as external agents of punishment, but as manifestations of internal strife and guilt. Bunting cleverly blurs the line between the mythological and the psychological, suggesting that our deepest torments are often self-inflicted.

The notion of the Furies appearing "first as if in a dream, anonymous triple presence" evokes the way guilt and regret can sneak upon us, often taking shape in our subconscious before manifesting in our waking lives. They are described as "memory made substance," a powerful image that conveys how past actions and regrets can solidify into almost tangible presences within us, haunting our every step.

As the poem progresses, the Furies become "sole aspect of being's essence," an overwhelming force that overshadows all other aspects of existence. The metaphor of the "coffin to the living touch" and the "self's Iscariot" (a reference to Judas Iscariot, the betrayer of Jesus) powerfully illustrates the sense of betrayal and isolation that comes from within, suggesting that the most profound wounds are often self-inflicted.

The victim of the Furies' attention is described as coming to "loath the year's recurrent long caress without hope of divorce," a line that speaks to the perpetual nature of internal conflict and the impossibility of escaping one's own mind. The comparison of this torment to envying "idiocy's apathy or the stress of definite remorse" underscores the idea that ignorance or even clear-cut guilt might be preferable to the ambiguous, ongoing agony of self-doubt and self-punishment.

As the poem nears its conclusion, the imagery becomes increasingly visceral and desperate. The subject is depicted as losing his very self, his "manhood leave him, slough selfaware the last skin of the flayed: despair." This graphic depiction of psychological unraveling conveys a profound sense of vulnerability and loss of identity, culminating in a state of despair that is almost beyond comprehension.

The final lines of the poem, focusing on the subject's "terror" and uncertainty "even of death's solace," touch on the fear of what lies beyond this life and whether escape from one's demons is even possible. The references to "dispersion of the soul, disruption of the brain" capture the existential dread of dissolution and the fragmentation of the self.

Through "First Book of Odes: 10. Chorus of Furies," Basil Bunting crafts a haunting, deeply resonant exploration of guilt, regret, and the internal forces that can drive a person to the edge of despair. Drawing on the powerful imagery and themes of classical mythology, Bunting presents a modern psychological drama that probes the depths of human suffering and the relentless nature of conscience. This poem stands as a testament to the poet's ability to navigate the dark waters of the human soul with both precision and profound empathy.

POEM TEXT:

Guarda, mi disse, le feroce Erine

Let us come upon him first as if in a dream, anonymous triple presence,

memory made substance and tally of heart's rot: then in the waking Now be demonstrable, seem sole aspect of being's essence,

coffin to the living touch, self's Iscariot.

Then he will loath the year's recurrent long caress without hope of divorce,

envying idiocy's apathy or the stress of definite remorse.

He will lapse into a halflife lest the taut force of the mind's eagerness

recall those fiends or new apparitions endorse his excessive distress.

He will shrink, his manhood leave him, slough selfaware the last skin of the flayed: despair.

He will nurse his terror carefully, uncertain even of death's solace, impotent to outpace

dispersion of the soul, disruption of the brain.