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Last lines, and theme, taken from ‘Praise of Folly’ by Erasmus of Rotterdam (1511).
Translated with an introduction and notes by Betty Radice (Penguin Books Ltd., London, 1974).
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Folly speaks:
I have missed you, mortal souls.
Though I have not been away.
Five hundred years since last we spoke.
Yet you have worshipped every day.
If you’ll allow me to find fault –
It’s likely my uncertainty
Would be that once or twice too often
Your folly transform’d to cruelty.
Take weaponry – although of course
I am grateful for the vaulting
of my fiefdom over that of War…
A bomb to make the whole earth molten?
And whilst feasting has ever been
A passion of both yours and mine
I watched small countries starve the world
Of bread, whilst they grew drunk on wine.
Pestilence, that naughty fellow
Has been abroad, but curiously
You paid him little heed; instead
You sacrificed too much to me.
But I cannot stay to chide
It’s not my nature; more’s the pity
I speak now to offer hope
To… redirect your folly more fitly.
Please recall that love is better
Fitted to my jolly altar
Please remember I would rather
See you sing, or rhyme, or balter.
Though your cynic side urge caution
Open arms to those who offer
Care and kindness, health and home
To you and those you think the other.
Don’t believe the poisoned-tongued,
Though in my temple they would stand
And prey upon your blind devotion;
Your mortal power is to refuse their hand.
These have been five heavy centuries –
And now I think I’d like to see
Some folly in a brighter form
Some deep and vulnerable empathy.
Keep safe, my sweet and silly mortals
Keep one another safe. And so Goodbye.
Clap your hands, live and drink;
Distinguished initiates of folly.
Your first two lines grabbed me and yanked me into your poem. Love this personification of folly. You got me thinking about how our folly has changed. It used to be more joyful and not as harsh as it has become lately. We laugh but more a “to keep from crying” mode. You made me remember that the fool in Shakespearean plays was often the wisest. If only we could return to this folly who has been absent in our lives but never totally went away. I could become an initiate of this kind of folly; I know I’ve had enough of the other kind.
I’m always examining poetic elements and absolutely adore not only your personification (of pestilence as well as folly) but also your alliterations and your sensory details and your imagery.
Selected lines that struck me to the soul:
• “A bomb to make the whole earth molten?”
• “I watched small countries starve the world / Of bread, whilst they grew drunk on wine.”
• “Some deep and vulnerable empathy.”