In one of the very first posts on this blog, I discussed the use of faeries in the verse of English poet John Keats (1795-1821). Here I’m going to focus on one of his greatest poems, and one of the greatest fairy poems of all. I want to examine its meaning and how it has inspired other works of art.
Here’s the text of Keats’ poem, which was written in 1819:
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,Alone and palely loitering?The sedge has withered from the lake,And no birds sing.O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,So haggard and so woe-begone?The squirrel’s granary is full,And the harvest’s done.I see a lily on thy brow,With anguish moist and fever-dew,And on thy cheeks a fading roseFast withereth too.I met a lady in the meads,Full beautiful—a faery’s child,Her hair was long, her foot was light,And her eyes were wild.I made a garland for her head,And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;She looked at me as she did love,And made sweet moanI set her on my pacing steed,And nothing else saw all day long,For sidelong would she bend, and singA faery’s song.She found me roots of relish sweet,And honey wild, and manna-dew,And sure in language strange she said—‘I love thee true’.She took me to her Elfin grot,And there she wept and sighed full sore,And there I shut her wild wild eyesWith kisses four.And there she lullèd me asleep,And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—The latest dream I ever dreamtOn the cold hill side.I saw pale kings and princes too,Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans MerciThee hath in thrall!’I saw their starved lips in the gloam,With horrid warning gapèd wide,And I awoke and found me here,On the cold hill’s side.And this is why I sojourn here,Alone and palely loitering,Though the sedge is withered from the lake,And no birds sing.
Like many faery writers and painters, Keats immediately locates his poem in the past: we have a knight riding on horse-back- we know we’re in the Middle Ages, when faeries were much nearer to people than today (or so we always say- see my previous post on this perpetual relegation of the faes to the previous generation). Simultaneously, the medieval context gives Keats’ verse an extra weight and authority. He’s placing himself alongside Malory, Spenser and other poets who’ve written about faery themes, adding to the ‘authenticity’ of what he writes.
Then we meet the faery woman- and she is everything that I’ve described in preceding posts on this blog: she’s beautiful, she’s sexually appealing, she’s also unearthly and deadly. Instantly, it would seem, the knight falls under her spell: making garlands for her in most un-knightly fashion, bearing her on his horse and becoming obsessed entirely with her. She sings to him- and this seems to be part of the spell that she works. Her alien nature is betrayed by her every aspect: her strange speech, her songs, her wild looks. Yet despite these warning signs, and the precipitate nature of their declared love for each other, the knight abandons caution and submits without resistance to her charms.
Two fateful incidents follow quickly. Firstly, the knight eats the food the fairy woman prepares for him; as I have described, consumption of fairy food – and the partaking of fairy nature that comes with it- can often have dire consequences for the human. Secondly, (although Keats is circumspect about this, given the date and style of his poem) the knight has sex with the fae woman in her ‘grot’- her cave or underground home. He has doubly surrendered his body to her power now.
The consequence of the knight’s close contact with faery nature is serious. He dreams his ‘latest,’ his last, dream and (it would seem) he finds himself no longer in the faery woman’s cave but abandoned and alone on a hillside-a common conclusion to stories of fairy encounters: the glamour evaporates and the human is left solitary and bewildered in the wilderness. The knight sees visions of those who have before him fallen under the faery’s spell and he is warned- far too late- of the peril he was in. These cautions are useless to him now, though: he is either ‘elf-addled‘- made sick by his intimate association with the faery- or he is, in fact, dead. The others, certainly, are starved with gaping mouths, and the hapless knight is left ‘alone and palely loitering,’ looking fevered and haggard. He cannot return to or settle back to his earthly life, he cannot escape the fairy woman’s ‘thrall.’ In this state of exile or alienation from his former condition, the knight closely resembles the fairy-abductee Kilmeny, of James Hogg’s nearly contemporary poem of the same name. After her visit to Faery and her return to our world:
“But all the land were in fear and dread,
For they kendna [knew not] whether she was living or dead.
It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain;” (Hogg, Kilmeny, 1813)
Keats’ Belle Dame epitomises some of the aspects of Faery we often downplay. It is common in folklore accounts to find faeries, and mermaids too, taking advantage of humans for their own benefit. This can frequently have dire implications for the human involved, ranging from subjection to terminal decline; the best that might be said of these cases is that the outcome may not be intentional- the fairies’ solipsistic nature may simply fail to register the impact on the mortal party. However, there are plenty of traditional examples of supernatural beings- ranging from boggarts and goblins through to kelpies- whose deliberate aim is to cause harm and injury. Keats’ Belle Dame is one of these- we need look no further than the title of the poem to know this, of course: she is ‘sans merci,’ without mercy.
As the illustrations to this posting demonstrate, Keats’ poem has inspired successive generations of artists. Two stages of the poem are illustrated: either the knight succumbing to the charms of the maiden, or the aftermath of his deadly seduction. The version of this by Frank Cadogan Cowper (1877-1959), an English painter often called the ‘last Pre-Raphaelite’ for his richly coloured historical and legendary paintings which regularly feature captivating, fay-like women, shows the faery maiden arranging her hair whilst the knight lies prostrate before her. She looks wonderfully, callously unconcerned, sitting on the river bank in her glorious dress patterned with red poppies. The blooming poppies that surround the couple suggest a possible origin for his unconsciousness. Henry Meynell Rheam (1859-1920), depicts a similar scene, except that ghostly figures of previous victims are shown hovering behind the rather self-satisfied looking faery. Other artists have focused instead the irresistible allure of the fairy maid, who seems superficially pretty and defenceless. Frank Dicksee’s painting perhaps best encapsulates this first stage of the poem. The fascination of Keats’ work persists even today, as we see from the two canvases by US based fantasy artist, Marc Fishman (b.1971). He emphasises the dangerous sexual allure of the fae woman, with her gauzy, see-through gowns and her wild, perfumed, intoxicating hair. Her emergence from a pool in the first of these also links her to the deadly meremaids I have discussed in the past.
Lastly, the Mediaeval Baebes have arranged the poem to music, in a haunting rendition (they have done the same too for Kilmeny, and for the Scots ballad of Tam Lin for that matter). For a more general discussion of fairy themes and iconography in nineteenth century poetry, see my recent book, Victorian Fairy Verse. For a detailed examination of the psychological and physical effects of faery contact, see my recently published Faery.