Hi John, Norman suggested I pop in here, see if I could offer a paw with this one. I'm honoured, you being an international successfully-published poet. Anyway, here goes... Good to see you posting after all this time. I'm sorry you died - I did not even realize you had been ill. Still, this is excellent work - who needs a body, eh? Thanks for posting this. As usual: (a) I have not read your other crits - so apologies for any duplications or contradictions and (b) I never see rhythm, so if you have used any my comments will probably cut it. >JM> On the Late Massacre In Piedmont Strange title, John - what time was it arranged for? >JM> by: John Milton (1608-1674) = Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones = Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; = Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, = When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, OK so we have a rhyme here, which is usually a tad disappointing for me, however, you seem to conduct it with gravitas so it just-about works. I thought you were the poet who decried the "modern" habit of rhyming? I know it was the norm back then but I think ditching capitals at the start of every line would aid flow greatly. Perhaps I should say I do not believe your "Lord" exists but many great works of art are inspired by religious belief, so that's ok - thoughg it does distance me emotionally from this piece. Suggest change "Even them" to "Even they" - smoother. "Stocks" these days usually means equities, not a medieval punishment device - suggest you consider a different term there. "All our fathers" is too all-embracing. Groups of people never agree fully. I like they way you say "thy truth," indicating that there are various truths - there is no one truth. My own feeling, too - and links into the "moral relativism" of the Twentieth Century (Bertrand Russell etc.). A good read if you can find a pair of eyes to use. You could ditch "the" in the Alpine line. That and other suggestions are shown thus: >= Avenge, my Lord, your slaughtered saints, >= whose bones lie scattered on cold Alpines; >= even they who kept your truth so pure >= when our fathers worshipped >= religious punishment and murder. I think that final line is more accurate and says more but does require further work to improve its delivery. "Mountains" was tautological as the Alpines are mountains. And we can se "mountains in the next verse... Assuming you find my suggestions helpful, here's a few more... = Forget not: in thy book record their groans = Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold = Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled = Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans >= Forget not those whom bloody Piedmontese killed: >= mothers-with-infants, >= thrown down rocky mountain slopes, >= their mercy-cries dashed to groans... >= then moans... >= ... then silence. See, by changing the verse-structure, you can heighten the drama... keep it fluid, Milton! = The vales redoubled to the hills, and they = To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow = O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway = The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow = A hundred fold, who, having learnt thy way, = Early may fly the Babylonian woe. Your first line is a tad superfluous methinks, John. I hate poetic contractions: let's ditch O'er, shall we. (It's only done to establish a meter anyway). Grief! Your Lord sounds an avenging type - why didn't he just stop the massacre in the first place? Would have saved a lot of misery you know - do ask him. >= Their martyred blood and ashes sow >= Italian fields of the triple Tyrant; >= From these may grow a hundred fold, who, >= having learnt your ways, >= will avenge the Babylonian dead. Clever bit about the trident - I like that. But you'll really upset King Neptune, so go easy. Now, I'm sure I have missed many subtleties and perhaps misunderstood some parts - and I have done this piece-meal - would need harmonizing into a poem again. But I hope some ideas help. By the way, Piedmont is very peaceful now... I always find t odd how the most peaceful of places can at a point in history, be the most bloody. All the best, John. PS Have you found Paradise again, yet? Buy me a pint and a pasty next week and I'll give you a paw searching for it. Cheers, p.
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