KYBERNEKYIA: Ezra Pound's Canto LXXXI

KYBERNEKYIA

A Hypervortext of Ezra Pound's Canto LXXXI

Zeus lies in Ceres' bosom
Taishan is attended of loves
                    under Cythera, before sunrise
and he said: "Hay aquí mucho
catolicismo--(sounded catolithismo)
                    y muy poco reliHión"
and he said: "Yo creo que los reyes desaparecen"
(Kings will, I think, disappear)
That was Padre José Elizondo
                         in 1906 and 1917
or about 1917
          and Dolores said "Come pan, niño," "eat bread, me
lad"
Sargent had painted her
                         before he descended
(i.e., if he descended)
          but in those days he did thumb sketches,
impressions of the Velásquez in the Museo del Prado
and books cost a peseta,
               brass candlesticks in proportion,
hot wind came from the marshes
     and death-chill from the mountains.
And later Bowers wrote: "but such hatred,
     I had never conceived such"
and the London reds wouldn't show up his friends
               (i.e., friends of Franco
working in London) and in Alcázar
forty years gone, they said: "Go back to the station to eat,
you can sleep here for a peseta"
          goat bells tinkled all night
          and the hostess grinned: "Eso es luto, haw!
mi marido es muerto"
          (it is mourning, my husband is dead)
when she gave me paper of the locanda to write on
with a black border half an inch or more deep, say 5/8ths,
"We call all foreigners frenchies"
and the egg broke in Cabranez' pocket,
          thus making history.  Basil says
they beat drums for three days
till all the drumheads were busted
          (simple village fiesta)
and as for his life in the Canaries. . .
Possum observed that the local portagoose folk dance
was danced by the same dancers in divers localities
          in political welcome . . .
the technique of demonstration
          Cole studied that (not G.D.H., Horace)
"You will find" said old André Spire,
"that every man on that board (Crédit Agricole)
has a brother-in-law."
               "You the one, I the few"
               said John Adams
speaking of fears in the abstract
     to his volatile friend Mr. Jefferson,
(to break the pentameter, that was the first heave)
or as Jo Bard says: "They never speak to each other,
if it is baker and concierge visibly
          it is La Rochefoucauld and de Maintenon audibly."
"Te caveró le budella"
               "La corata a te"
In less than a geological epoch
                    said Henry Mencken
"Some cook, some do not cook,
     some things cannot be altered"

What counts is the cultural level,
     thank Benin for this table ex packing box
     "doan yu tell no one I made it"
               from a mask as fine as any in Frankfurt
"It'll get you offn th' groun"
               Light as the branch of Kuanon
And at first disappointed with shoddy
the bare ramshackle quais, but then saw the
high buggy wheels
               and was reconciled,
George Santayana arriving in the port of Boston
and kept to the end of his life that faint thethear
of the Spaniard
               as a grace quasi imperceptible,
as did Muss the v for u of Romagna,
and said the grief was a full act
          repeated for each new condoleress
working up to a climax.
And George Horace said he wd/ "get Beveridge" (Senator)
Beveridge wouldn't talk and he wouldn't write for the papers
but George got him by campin' in his hotel
and assailin' him at lunch breakfast an' dinner
               three articles
and my ole man went on hoein' corn
     while George was a-tellin' him,
come across a vacant lot
          where you'd occasionally see a wild rabbit
or mebbe only a loose one
     AOI!
     a leaf in the current
                         at my grates no Althea

LIBRETTO

Yet Ere the season died a-cold Borne upon a zephyr's shoulder I rose through the aureate sky Lawes and Jenkins guard thy rest Dolmetsch ever be thy guest, Has he tempered the viol's wood To enforce both the grave and the acute? Has he curved us the bowl of the lute? Lawes and Jenkins guard thy rest Dolmetsch ever be thy guest, Hast 'ou fashioned so airy a mood To draw up leaf from the root? Hast 'ou found a cloud so light As seemed neither mist nor shade?

Then resolve me, tell me aright If Waller sang or Dowland played.

Your eyen two wol sleye me sodenly I may the beauté of hem nat susteyene

And for 180 years almost nothing.

Ed ascoltando il leggier mormorio there came new subtlety of eyes into my tent, whether of spirit or hypostasis, but what the blindfold hides or at carneval nor any pair showed anger Saw but the eyes and stance between the eyes, colour, diastasis, careless or unaware it had not the whole tent's room nor was place for the full interpass, penetrate casting but shade beyond the other lights sky's clear night's sea green of the mountain pool shone from the unmasked eyes in half-mask's space. What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage Whose world, or mine or theirs or is it of none? First came the seen, then thus the palpable Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell, What thou lovest well is thy true heritage What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee

The ant's a centaur in his dragon world. Pull down thy vanity, it is not man Made courage, or made order, or made grace, Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down. Learn of the green world what can be thy place In scaled invention or true artistry, Pull down thy vanity, Paquin pull down! The green casque has outdone your elegance.

"Master thyself, then others shall thee beare" Pull down thy vanity Thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail, A swollen magpie in a fitful sun, Half black half white Nor knowst'ou wing from tail Pull down thy vanity How mean thy hates Fostered in falsity, Pull down thy vanity, Rathe to destroy, niggard in charity, Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down.

But to have done instead of not doing This is not vanity To have, with decency, knocked That a Blunt should open To have gathered from the air a live tradition or from a fine old eye the unconquered flame this is not vanity. Here error is all in the not done, all in the diffidence that faltered . . .


concept & editing NED BATES | project director GAIL MCDONALD

With special thanks to ROBERT LANGENFELD
check out his excellent journal: ELT (English Literature in Transition)

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