Lycidas Death Quotes

The connection between this opening and the poem's subject matter (the death of a young man) is clear, but there might be something else going on. Perhaps the speaker feels that he might be writing this type of poem (pastoral elegy) too soon, almost as if he is plucking his own berries before he should.

This is the first description we get of Lycidas' death. His name is repeated, as is the fact that he is dead, just in case you had any doubt. In fact, it almost seems as if the speaker is trying to convince himself of Lycidas' death, as if he can't quite believe it himself. But we also might think of the repetition of the name as somehow keeping Lycidas alive – in poetry at least.

Okay, now we're getting the whole story. In these lines, the speaker suggests that he is writing this poem for Lycidas so that some poet will do the same for him in the future. That sounds a lot more self-interested than a typical man in grief. We can't help but wonder why he is so focused on his own death, so early on in the poem. Shouldn't he be more worried about Lycidas? Could it be that the only reason he is upset that Lycidas is gone is that it's a reminder of his own mortality?

Just like in lines 8-9, it's as if the speaker has to keep repeating the fact that Lycidas is dead in order to face the facts. Or maybe he thinks that if he just says it over and over again, it might hurt a little less each time.

The natural world mourns for Lycidas in a way that makes it seem dead as well. Did you notice how line 43 ends with the phase "no more be seen"? For a second (before we get to the next line), it appears that the plants have disappeared entirely as a result of Lycidas' death. Even though it turns out they're still there, they seem strangely lifeless, with no reason to move their "leaves." Poor plants.

Oh those negligent nymphs. What nincompoops. In all seriousness though, it seems our speaker is convinced that these mythological figures could have and should have helped out his poor buddy. Our speaker is somewhat unwilling to accept the fact that nothing could be done, which we can tell by the fact that he proceeds to ask all kinds of gods, nymphs, etc. where they were when their supposedly beloved Lycidas fell victim to the powerful and "remorseless" ocean. Eventually, though, he'll realize that even these ancient figures are powerless against fate.

Gee, aren't we pessimistic? According to our speaker, whenever we think we're about to achieve fame, fate comes by and kills us. Harsh. To him, life is fragile ("thin-spun"), and death comes to us all, regardless of who we are. That's why that pesky Fury is blind.

The speaker calls on the "valleys low" (136) to send flowers to place on Lycidas' "laureate hearse." The thing is, there is no "hearse" or coffin, because his body is somewhere beneath the ocean. So what's plan B? Honestly, it doesn't seem like there is one. Instead, it seems like the poet has to imagine that Lycidas' body has been recovered in order to say a proper goodbye.

These are some of the most important lines in the poem, since they are the first moment we can detect some sense of consolation. Finally. Lycidas isn't really dead, the speaker is saying, because he has gone to a better place (which we find out a few lines later). The simile used here – Lycidas is like a sun that sets and then rises again – is odd because it implies that Lycidas, even though he has risen, will sink again. How does that work? Can someone die again after they're already dead?