Monday, May 25, 2009

The Burning-Glass by: George William Russell

A shaft of fire that falls like dew,
And melts and maddens all my blood,
From out thy spirit flashes through
The burning-glass of womanhood.

Only so far; here must I stay:	5
Nearer I miss the light, the fire;
I must endure the torturing ray,
And with all beauty, all desire.

Ah, time long must the effort be,
And far the way that I must go	10
To bring my spirit unto thee,
Behind the glass, within the glow.

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Passionate Fire

I love the idea of fire representing passion in literature, and I wanted to trace it through some books and poetry. I immediately thought of Wide Sargasso Sea and Jane Eyre. I thought it was interesting that the books had totally different outcomes and plots, but that they would use fire in the same way. I then found the poem The Burning-Glass which dealt with passion and fire but from a bit of a different perspective than the two books, and I wanted to explore that too.

The more the fire is covered up, the more it burns.
- Ovid

The hand that kindles cannot quench the flame.
- Byron

Kindle not a fire that you cannot extinguish.

It is with our passions as it is with fire and water; they are good servants, but bad masters.
- Roger L'Estrange, Aesop's Fables

If passion drives you, let reason hold the reins.
- Benjamin Franklin

There was a candle burning just outside, and on the matting in the gallery. I was surprised at this circumstance: but still more was I amazed to perceive the air quite dim, as if filled with smoke; and, while looking to the right hand and left, to find whence these blue wreaths issued, I became further aware of a strong smell of burning.
Something creaked: it was a door ajar; and that door was Mr. Rochester's, and the smoke rushed in a cloud from thence. I thought no more of Mrs. Fairfax; I thought no more of Grace Poole, or the laugh: in an instant, I was within the chamber. Tongues of flame darted round the bed: the curtains were on fire. In the midst of blaze and vapour, Mr. Rochester lay stretched motionless, in deep sleep.
"Wake! wake!" I cried. I shook him, but he only murmured and turned: the smoke had stupefied him. Not a moment could be lost: the very sheets were kindling, I rushed to his basin and ewer; fortunately, one was wide and the other deep, and both were filled with water. I heaved them up, deluged the bed and its occupant, flew back to my own room, brought my own water-jug, baptized the couch afresh, and, by God's aid, succeeded in extinguishing the flames which were devouring it.
- Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte (Chapter 15)

The fire broke out at dead of night, and before the engines arrived from Millcote, the building was one mass of flame...she set fire first to the hangings of the room next her own, and then she got down to a lower story, and made her way to the chamber that had been the governess's--(she was like as if she knew somehow how matters had gone on, and had a spite at her)--and she kindled the bed there...I saw her and heard her with my own eyes. She was a big woman, and had long black hair: we could see it streaming against the flames as she stood...she yelled and gave a spring, and the next minute she lay smashed on the pavement...Well, ma'am, afterwards the house was burnt to the ground: there are only some bits of walls standing now.
- Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte (Chapter 36)

Monday, May 25, 2009

The Burning-Glass by: George William Russell

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