Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Lawrence Durrell's poem "At Epidaurus" offers a profound meditation on the intersection of history, culture, and human existence within the context of an ancient and sacred landscape. Epidaurus, known for its ancient theater and as a center of healing in classical Greece, serves as the backdrop for Durrell’s exploration of the passage of time, the persistence of human suffering, and the search for meaning in a world overshadowed by both history and modernity.

The poem begins with an invocation of "the islands which whisper to the ambitious," evoking a sense of distant lands that once called out to explorers and dreamers, now "washed all winter by the surviving stars." This image sets a tone of both longing and inevitability, suggesting that these once-vital places are now mere echoes, "hardly recalled" except as remnants of a past that still haunts the present. The "stone choirs for the sea-bird" and "stone chairs for the statues of fishermen" evoke a landscape where the natural world and human history have been etched into stone, enduring yet static, frozen in time.

Durrell contrasts this enduring natural and historical landscape with the "civilized valley" of Epidaurus, a place "dedicated to / The cult of the circle." This reference to the ancient theater and healing center suggests a place where life’s cycles—of birth, sickness, and death—are acknowledged and ritually addressed. The "contemplation and correction of famous maladies" speaks to the therapeutic and reflective purposes of this place, where ancient practices sought to heal not just the body, but the spirit, acknowledging the "continuous babyhood" of humanity, a phrase that suggests an unending cycle of human vulnerability and dependency.

Yet, Durrell is keenly aware of the modern intrusions into this ancient space. He notes "the disorder" that comes from what we bring to Epidaurus: "Cars drifting like leaves over the glades," and "the penetration of clocks striking in London." These images of modernity—cars and clocks—represent the disruption of ancient rhythms by contemporary life, where time is no longer cyclical and organic but linear and mechanical, dominated by the relentless ticking of clocks far removed from the sacred space of Epidaurus.

The poem reflects on how this ancient site was once a place where "redemption was enacted" and "repentance won," with the stones "heavy with dew," a symbol of renewal and cleansing. The olive tree, traditionally a symbol of peace and revival, "signs the hill," signaling a continuity with the past, while the "swallow's cot in the ruin" stands as a small yet potent symbol of love’s persistence, even in the ruins of time.

Durrell continues by contemplating the idea of death within this sacred landscape. He writes of "carrying our own small deaths / With the resignation of place and identity," suggesting that in Epidaurus, the inevitability of death is accepted as part of life’s natural order. The temple, "set severely like a dice," represents the randomness and finality of fate, yet it is also "Ruled from the whitest light of the summer," linking it to the life-giving sun and the cycle of seasons. This duality of death and renewal is central to the poem, as Durrell explores the interplay between the ephemeral and the eternal.

The poem further delves into the connection between humanity and the divine, as Durrell describes how this land "provides a context understandably natural / For men who could divulge the forms of gods." The reference to "the mathematician" and "the lover" suggests that in this place, both reason and passion find their expression and fulfillment, harmonized by the rhythms of nature and the sacred. The land itself becomes a space where human identity and divine presence intersect, where "the hum of the chorus" enchants and brings to life the myths and stories that have shaped human understanding.

Durrell reflects on the transient nature of human existence, noting that "We, like the winter, are only visitors," suggesting that our time in this world is brief and that we are but temporary guests in a landscape that endures beyond our lives. The earth’s "original flower," which "blows here with every spring," symbolizes the perpetual renewal of life, even as human lives pass into "cold texts and precedents for time," leaving behind only traces of their existence.

The final stanza shifts to a more philosophical reflection, urging the reader to "smile" and "make the indefinite gesture of the hands," as if to acknowledge the limits of human understanding and the futility of trying to impose order on a world that is not truly ours. The "somnambulists walk again in the north / With the long black rifles, to bring us answers" evokes an image of sleepwalkers, suggesting that much of human action is unconscious or driven by forces beyond our control. The phrase "All causes end within the great Because" encapsulates the poem’s meditation on the ultimate meaninglessness of human endeavors in the face of the vast and indifferent forces of nature and time.

"At Epidaurus" thus emerges as a rich and contemplative work, exploring the tension between the ancient and the modern, the sacred and the profane, the fleeting and the eternal. Through his lyrical and evocative language, Durrell invites the reader to reflect on the complexities of existence within a landscape that has witnessed countless generations, reminding us of our place within the larger cycles of life, death, and renewal. The poem is both a celebration of the enduring power of history and nature and a sober reminder of the limits of human agency in a world shaped by forces far greater than ourselves.

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