Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 1-9
VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity!
Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?
Nephews—sons mine… ah God, I know not! Well—
She, men would have to be your mother once,
Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was!
What's done is done, and she is dead beside,
Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since,
And as she died so must we die ourselves,
And thence ye may perceive the world's a dream.
- Here we are in Rome, in the year 15…something or other. Some versions of this poem include the note "Rome, 15—" in the title, while others slide it into the epigraph. In either case, we say a whole lot more about Rome, 15-something or other over in "Setting." For now, let's dive in and see what this bishop has going on.
- He starts off by quoting the Bible—that seems appropriate enough for a bishop. Specifically, he lays Ecclesiastes 1.2 on us, which tells us that everything is vanity.
- He then goes on to encourage folks to gather around his bed. Now, that's not something you typically do when you're just getting out of the sack in the morning. It's something you're more likely to hear when someone is on his or her death bed.
- Specifically, the bishop is talking to his nephews and/or sons. It seems like he's not sure how they're all related—"ah God, I know not!" (2). Hey, let's cut the guy some slack if he's about to die.
- Wait a second, though—how can a bishop have sons? Well, it looks like our speaker became a bishop after his sons' mother died.
- All the same, someone named Gandolf (probably not this guy) really envied the bishop. This now-dead mother must have been quite something in her day.
- All that's behind the bishop now, though. He's about to kick the bucket, as everyone has to eventually die. That includes his sons who, when they do die, will realize that "the world's a dream" (9).
- Before we move on to the next section of the poem, we'll just add a quick little note about the poem's form. Notice any repeating patterns here? A few of the lines look like they might have some iambic pentameter going on, but we talk lots more about that over in "Form and Meter."