Picture Pages Index

"From translation all wisdom has its source". These collages are an essay in translation from word to image. The labour has been a time-eating distraction, but I wouldn't say it hasn't been worth it. Something more about the poem has been learned, at least, and perhaps the continuity of its Weltanschauung has been demonstrated. The spine of The Seafarer is its commonplace centrality to the experience of Everyman. Familiar, popular images, ancient and newish, are not wrong; clichés can be arranged in novel, interesting ways, just as single words can. But the results are not wholly satisfying; perhaps a proper balance between design and image has not been found. Click htms under URL column.

line 21; line 42; line 62; line 83; line 104

base

URL

ill1.htm
 

ill12.htm
 
 

ill13.htm
 

ill131.htm

ill135.htm
 
 

ill137.htm
 

ill14.htm
 
 
 

ill143.htm
 

ill145.htm
 

ill15.htm

ill16.htm
 

ill162.html
 

ill164.html
 

ill166.htm
 

ill17.htm
 
 

ill18.htm
 
 

ill185.htm
 
 
 

ill187.htm

ill2.htm
 
 
 
 
 

ill21.htm
 

ill24.htm
 
 
 

ill28.htm
 

ill3.htm
 
 

none
 
 

none
 
 

ill4.htm
 
 

ill43.htm
 
 

ill435.html

ill45.htm
 

ill5.htm

ill51.htm

ill52.htm

ill53.htm
 

ill54.htm

ill55.htm
 

ill56.htm
 
 
 

ill58.htm
 

ill59.htm
 

ill6.htm
 
 
 

ill7.htm
&
ill71.htm
 
 
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 

ill715.html
 
 
 

ill72.htm
 
 

ill73.htm
 
 
 

ill74.htm
 

ill79.htm

ill8.htm
 

ill81.htm

ill82.htm
 

none
 

ill84.htm

ill85.htm
 

ill855.html
 
 

none
 

ill87.htm
 
 
 

wlhd.html

ill875.html

ill88.htm

ill885.html

ill89.htm
 

ill9.htm
 

Main artist

edvard munch
 

winslow homer
 
 

a p ryder
 

c d friedrich

animations
 
 

unknown
 

unknown
 
 
 

gustave doré
 

sculptor?
 

photographer?

m c escher
 

m larson
 

bruno liljefors
bo backström

gustave doré
 

rembrandt
 
 

photographer?
 
 

hokusai
 
 
 

c d friedrich

a p ryder
 
 
 
 
 

h j draper
 

e munch
 
 
 

harald sohlberg
charles sheeler

n de stael
 
 

none
 
 

none
 
 

leonardo
 
 

gustave doré
 
 

courbet

william blake
 

m c escher

m c escher

m c escher

william blake
 

edvard munch

edward hopper
 

albrecht dürer
 
 
 

dundee wallace
 

m e winge
 

albrecht dürer
 
 
 

leonardo
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

charles XII
 
 
 

andrew wyeth
 
 

photographer?
 
 
 

am duat
 

william blake

animations
 

el greco

albrecht dürer
 

none
 

rodin

leonardo
 

animations
 
 

none
 

rembrandt
 
 
 

unknown

monamy

el greco

lindisfarne

michelangelo
 

none
 

Credit

M.Harden Artchive
 

MHA
 
 

MHA
 

MHA

various
 
 

unknown
 

unknown
 
 
 

datadesigns
 

leif ericsson site
 

webshots

MHA
 

sthlm ntnlmsm
 

sthlm ntnlmsm
 

datadesigns
 

MHA
 
 

webshots
 
 

M.Harden Artchive
 
 
 

MHA

MHA
 
 
 
 
 

---
 

MHA
 
 
 

MHA
 

MHA
 
 

none
 
 

none
 
 

MHA
 
 

datadesigns
 
 

musée d'orsay

M.Harden Artchive
 

MHA

MHA

MHA

MHA
 

munch museum

M.Harden Artchive
 

MHA
 
 
 

tartan house
 

nat mus sthlm
 

MHA
 
 
 

MHA
 
 
 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

various
 
 
 

MHA
 
 

gotland
 
 
 

BM
 

MHA

various
 

MHA

MHA
 

none
 

MHA

M.Harden Artchive
 

various
 
 

none
 

MHA
 
 
 

CHW

CHW

MHA

none

MHA
 

none
 

Text

May my words spell the truth of the ways I've toiled
distraught for days on end

enduring cares and bitter bale
within my breast, my keel cleaving
endless halls of heaving waves

I would often at the bark's bows wake
the strait night through

steering her clear of clashing cliffs

cold fetters froze my feet
and hunger seared my heart
with sore sea-weariness

that man lolling on fair land
has no earthly inkling

of how I
a wretched wreck on ice-cold sea
weathered each winter
exiled from kith and kin

hail scoured my skin and hoar
hung heavy

All I ever heard along the ice-way
was sounding sea

the gannet's shanty

whooper and curlew call and mewling gull
were all my gaming, mead and mirth

At tempest-tested granite crags
the ice-winged tern would taunt

spray-feathered ospreys overhead
would soar and scream

No kinsman near to fend off need
no one to comfort or console

That fine fellow, carefree in his cups
set snugly up in town, cannot conceive
the load I hauled along the sea-lanes

The dark night deepens, northern snow
hardens the soil and hail hits earth
like cold corn

Yet my heart hammers now, yearning anew
wanting the steep salt-water road
longing with lust to roam rough seas, alone
to seek out some far foreign shore

The mood to wander mills within my mind

But none on earth may be so proud
so prodigal or yare in youth
nor so express in action
nor smiled on by so mild a master
that he embark with unconcern
what end for him the Master may intend

He will not heed the harp though
and is not gladdened by gold rings

nor woman's winning ways
and wants no worldly joys
only the rolling oceans urge him on
the wave play pulls him and impels

Then blossom decks the bower's bough
the bothie blooms, the sea meads gleam

the wide world racks the restless mind
of him who on the full flood tide
determines to depart

And heralding his summer hoard of pain
the gowk repeats his plaintive geck
foreboding bitterness of breast

Soft-bedded bloods cannot conceive
what some men suffer as abroad
they travel tracks of exile

Reckless of that, my thought is thrown
beyond my heart's cage now. Hot hunger
keenly comes again.

My mind is cast
upon the sea swell, over the whale's world
widely to course creation's coast

widely to course creation's coast

gielleð anfloga
hweteð onwæl weg hreþer unwearnum

the summons wails above on wing

it steels the unarmed soul to start

across the waters where the whale sways

gielleð anfloga
hweteð onwæl weg hreþer unwearnum

God's visions are to me more vivid

than this dead life loaned out on land
I know its leasehold will not last

Still three things twist man's mind
until the day his doom is sealed
age, illness or some stroke of hate
will seize sense from him

So any noble spirit will aspire to earn
an everlasting epitaph of praise

for good deeds done on earth, bold blows
dealt at the Devil and against fell foe

at the Devil and against fell foe
before his passing, that posterity
delights enjoyed for ever by the brave
among the angels may perpetuate

The days of glory have decayed
the earth has spilled its splendour
there are no captains now, no kings
gold givers such as once there were
the lords who lived to purchase fame
and utmost laud among their peers

Virtue is fallen, visions are faded
the weak are left to hold this world
worn low. The flower of the field is old
the leaf is withered and the laurel sere
Throughout this middle isthmus man
meets age hoar-headed, bleak of face
by former friends forsaken, grieving over
scions of lineage long since gone

there are no captains now, no kings
gold givers such as once there were
the lords who lived to purchase fame
and utmost laud among their peers

Life ebbs, the flesh feels less
and fails to savour sweet or sour
is frail of hand, feeble of mind

Though men may bury treasured pelf
beside their brother's born remains
and sow his grave with golden goods
he goes where gold is worthless

Nor can his sinful soul, quaking before his God
call hoarded gold or mortal glory to his aid

that Architect is awesome

Whose might moves the world
Whose hand has fixed the firmament

earth's vaults and vapours

Dull is the man who does not dread the Lord
on him will death's descent be sudden

blissful the man that meekly lives
on him will heaven benisons bestow

A mind was given man by God to glory in his might

A man should steer a steadfast course
be constant, clean and just in judgement

a man should curb his love or loathing
though flame consume his comrade
and fire the funeral pyre

for fate is set more surely
God more great, than any man surmise

Come, consider where we have a home, how
we can travel to it, how our travail here
will lead us to the living well-head
and heaven haven of our Lord's love

the living well-head

a haven

Thus let us thank His hallowed name

Thus let us thank His hallowed name

that He has granted us His grace
Dominion enduring, the Ancient of Days

for all time

 

An effort has been made to acknowledge sources. Most images have been linked to their source, but some sources have inadvertently been lost. They may be relocated in due course. Objections to the presence of any image will either secure a link to its source or its immediate removal. Mail cichw-0[at]cichw.net for this or any other good reason. The animations come from countless sources which all appear to be interlinked. One of the most user-friendly seems to me www.4YEO.com [here]; otherwise try starting at www.gifart.com [here] or www.clipart.com [here]. What is art but idle play?
 

Other images, some incorporating some of those above, are linked thematically from here..

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