Henry Newbolt (1862–1938) is best remembered today for his patriotic ballads of British naval history that were very popular in the years before the first world war. His later poems, such as The Nightjar, are quite different in tone, more personal and reflective, but they have been completely overshadowed by the earlier ones, which is a great pity, I think.
I wrote in a post about Thomas Hardy’s poem At Castle Boterel that the lockdowns had affected my sense of time, with the past becoming as vivid to me as the present. Perhaps it is simply a question of having much more time to think than usual. The short poem below is therefore another one that seems quite appropriate at the moment.
Newbolt may well have been thinking about Dunwich in East Anglia. A once thriving community was reduced to the size of a small village by coastal erosion, with the greater part of the town being lost to the sea. The story goes that the church survived intact under the water, complete with its bells, that can still be heard on land when conditions are right.
It makes a wonderfully appropriate metaphor for the process of recovering memories long forgotten. Newbolt contemplates the remembrance of things past, rather like Proust. Who’d have thought it?
Against Oblivion by Henry Newbolt
Cities drowned in olden time
Keep, they say, a magic chime
Rolling up from far below
When the moon-led waters flow.
So within me, ocean deep,
Lies a sunken world asleep.
Lest its bells forget to ring,
Memory! set the tide a-swing!
The Good Reader 