To have fun the four-hundredth 23rd psalm
anniversary of the book of the King James Bible, and the paintings of those in advance translators like John Rogers, Myles Coverdale and William Tyndale, whose scholarship and musicality paved the manner, I’ve became to the Book of Psalms for this week’s poem. No apologies for picking that old favorite – because it so thoroughly earns its popularity – Psalm 23. But is it poetry? You may ask. I’d have to mention well, within the broader sense, I assume it probable is.
The Hebrew psalms are songs, designed to be sung with harp accompaniment. In the Book of Psalms, their structure in numbered verses resembles the structure observed during the Bible, however there are differences. They are only minimally narrative: expressions of uncooked emotion, from the howl of melancholy to the ecstatic eulogy, they are regularly addressed immediately to God. They are even attributed to a single author – King David. Not, admittedly, poems in thought, they’re nevertheless intensely poetic in terms of rhythm, imagery, depth and brevity. Like a lyric poem or a prayer, psalms belong to the emotional moment. And, of direction, they have got had an tremendous influence on poetry inside the English language.
When we say, vaguely, that the Bible stimulated poets like Walt Whitman, we’re probable wondering frequently of the hypnotic rhythms and the parallelism observed inside the Book of Psalms. Christopher Smart’s Jubilate Agno became without delay modelled at the psalm, and, much later, DH Lawrence wrote loose verse that bears faintly the identical imprint. But the road of inheritance seems more potent in American poetry. Besides Whitman, it results in Stephen Crane, Herman Melville, Carl Sandburg, Jean Toomer, and arguably takes us, subsequently, to Pound and Eliot. We could say that The Book of Psalms is the English extremely good-grandmother of American unfastened verse.
Many poets and hymn-writers remodeled the 23rd Psalm in metre and rhyme. One of the maximum successful tries is through Thomas Sternhold, who produced a Psaltery supposed to inspire the court docket of Henry VIII to sing extra devotional songs and less love-lyrics. The poem is smartly arranged in 14-syllable couplets, and has a few swish touches. I especially like the phrase “he setteth me to feed”. “Set” turned into the verb favoured by way of pre-Authorised Version translators. A gentler, less coercive verb that “make” in English, associated with “settle” and “take a seat”, it helps the reader picture the scene. There’s nothing incorrect with Sternhold’s poem – and yet, compared with the biblical verses, his tripping rhythms lack dignity and pressure.
George Herbert’s compact stanzas have greater sinew, and some memorability: “The God of love my shepherd is, /And he that does me feed./ While He is mine, and I am His,/ What can I want or need?” This has Herbert’s feature tone in all its intimacy and sweetness. The image, in verse five, of wining and dining with God is a Herbert favored: it’d likely have originated from Psalm 23. Its most beautiful realisation isn’t here, even though, but in “Love (III)”. There’s an nearly witty little rhetorical flourish inside the last 2 traces: “Surely, your candy and wondrous love/ Shall degree all my days,/ And, as it by no means shall dispose of,/ So neither shall my reward.” But no longer even Herbert can in shape the strength of the biblical text: in truth, he would not attempt to.
Not all prose variations of Psalm 23 are as shiny as those of the King James Bible. The in advance Wycliffe model seems at times a little wordy, though possibly it’s simply that the moreover figurative language wishes being used to (“Thou hast made fat mine head with oil; and my cup, that runneth greatly, is complete clean.”) Of the cutting-edge translations, that of the Message Bible, by means of Pastor Eugene M Peterson, is through a ways the maximum brilliant. “God, my shepherd! I don’t want a thing./ You have bedded me down in lush meadows,/ you discover me quiet swimming pools to drink from. ” Verse five turns into: “You serve me a six-course dinner/ right in front of my enemies.” This is imitation rather than translation, of route, however, with the aid of bold to be genuinely idiomatic, Peterson offers the wan cutting-edge English of recent translations a hearty blood transfusion.
Re-reading Psalm 23 within the Authorised Version, I’ve been as struck with the aid of its awesome punctuation as via its imagery and rhythm. When, as a baby, I first heard it sung (in a as a substitute syrupy famous setting, probably Crimond) I changed into very confused by the good judgment of the road: “The lord is my shepherd I shall no longer need.” The singers had forgotten to consist of that crucial semi-colon.
As someplace else inside the Bible, every verse of the psalm is a self-contained unit, frequently which include a unmarried sentence, and the careful differentiation of comma, semi-colon and colon informs both sound and sense. These punctuation marks denote the duration of a pause among utterances. They organise the idea itself, and allow the segments to paintings dramatically, as a substitute just like the lines of a poem.
Psalm 23’s metaphorical language has produced many interpretations. One of the most resourceful I’ve come upon claims that the entire is a pastoral metaphor: the “desk” refers to the raised boards in which fodder changed into unfold for the sheep, the anointing alludes to the shepherd’s use of oil to heal the animals’ wounds. Rather extra convincing is the studying that lets in for two dominant metaphors. The pastoral one concludes in verse four, when the speaker is conducted thru the Valley of the Shadow of Death, helped through the shepherd’s rod and body of workers. After that, imperial and relatively militaristic symbolism replaces pastoral. The shepherd will become the King – describing the direction of David’s personal profession – and the issues are not earthly and pastoral but eschatological. Notice the abrupt exchange from 1/3 person “he” to vocative “thou” in the center of verse 4, the factor at which the speaker is maximum in want of consolation. In the slow-amassing crescendo of that verse, the double possessive (“the valley of the shadow of…”), normally so clumsy-sounding in English, performs a prime position. The stroke of genius, even though, is in 4 phrases: “my cup runneth over”. As for verse six, possibly the Tyndale model is greater artistically satisfying, as well as more heart-felt: through giving us “thy loving-kindness and mercy” for a generalised “goodness and mercy,” the pastoral imagery of the outlet, in all its quiet tenderness, is evoked yet again.
Psalm 23 (King James Authorised Version, 1611)
1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall no longer need.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the nevertheless waters.
Three He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me inside the paths of righteousness for his call’s sake.
4 Yea, although I walk through the valley of the shadow of loss of life, I will worry no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy workforce they comfort me.
Five Thou preparest a desk before me inside the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall comply with me all the days of my lifestyles; and I will reside inside the residence of the LORD for ever.
Psalm 23 (Matthew-Tyndale Bible, 1537)
The LORDE is my shepherde, I can wante nothinge. 2 He fedeth me in a grene pasture, and ledeth me to a sparkling water. 3 He quickeneth my soule, & bringeth me forth within the waye of rightuousnes for his names sake. Four Though I shulde walke now inside the valley of the shadowe of loss of life, yet I feare no euell, for thou art with me: thy staffe & thy shepehoke comforte me. 5 Thou preparest a desk earlier than me agaynst mine enemies: thou anoyntest my heade with oyle, & fyllest my cuppe complete. 6 Oh permit thy louynge kyndnes & mercy folowe me all the dayes off my existence, that I maye stay within the residence off the LORDE for euer.
Psalm 23 (Metrical Version by Thomas Sternhold, 1549)
1 My Shepherd is the living Lord, not anything consequently I want:
In pastures honest, near high-quality streams, he setteth me to feed.
2 He shall convert and happy my soul, and convey my mind in body
To stroll in paths of righteousness for his maximum holy Name.
3 Yea, even though I stroll in vale of death, but will I fear no sick:
Thy rod and workforce do comfort me, and thou artwork with me still.
4 And inside the presence of my foes My desk thou shalt unfold
Thou wilt fill complete my cup, and thou anointed hast my head.
5 Through all my existence thy favour is so frankly confirmed to me
That in thy residence for evermore my residing vicinity will be.
Since you are right here …
… We’ve got a small favour to invite. Millions are flocking to the Guardian for great news every day. We accept as true with all and sundry deserves access to authentic statistics, and analysis that has authority and integrity. That’s why, not like many others, we made a preference: to preserve Guardian reporting open for all, regardless of in which they stay or what they can have the funds for to pay.
As an open, independent information company we look into, interrogate and reveal the actions of those in electricity, with out worry. With no shareholders or billionaire owner, our journalism is loose from political and commercial bias – this makes us extraordinary. We can deliver a voice to the oppressed and unnoticed, and stand in unity with people who are calling for a fairer future. With your help we will make a difference.
We’re decided to provide journalism that facilitates each folks better understand the sector, and take actions that mission, unite, and inspire alternate – in times of crisis and beyond. Our paintings could no longer be feasible with out our readers, who now help our paintings from one hundred eighty countries round the arena.
Every reader contribution, however big or small, is so valuable for our future. Support the Guardian from as little as $1 – and it best takes a minute. Thank you.
Support the Guardian
Accepted payment strategies: Visa, Mastercard, American Express and PayPal
Carol Rumens’s poem of the week
Reuse this content material
Amy Coney Barrett went to my all-girls high school. I hope she’s no longer showed
Lisa M O’Neill
Trump holds packed rally after Covid analysis as he struggles in polls
Beatified millennial: Pope units past due tech whiz on route to sainthood
California investigates unauthorized ballot boxes hooked up by means of Republicans
US election polls tracker: who’s main in the swing states?
LiveTrump ‘assessments bad’; Johnson & Johnson vaccine trial paused
4m in the past
MalaysiaAnwar Ibrahim to satisfy king in decades-lengthy push to emerge as PM
5h in the past
US electionsMore than 10-hour wait and long strains as early vote casting starts offevolved in Georgia
Nobel callingEconomists caught slumbering throughout prize win
‘Golden week’Wedding season increase in China with six hundred,000 couples tying knot
Machu PicchuPeru opens ruins for one tourist
7h in the past
Hong KongAcademics warn of ‘chilling effect’ of security regulation
BelarusPolice will fire on protesters if important, says deputy interior minister
Carol Rumens’s poem of the week
Poem of the week: The Bread of Childhood by Ihor Pavlyuk
Poem of the week: Oh wert thou in the cauld blast by means of Robert Burns
5 Oct 2020
one hundred fifteen
Poem of the week: Huia by way of Bill Manhire
28 Sep 2020
Poem of the week: Before It Is All Gone by way of Ifigenija Simonović
21 Sep 2020
Poem of the week: The Falling with the aid of Laura Scott
14 Sep 2020
Poem of the week: How Poems Arrive with the aid of Anne Stevenson
7 Sep 2020
Poem of the week: Thick orchards, all in white by using Jean Ingelow
31 Aug 2020
Poem of the week: Felix Randal through Gerard Manley Hopkins
24 Aug 2020
Sign in or create your Guardian account to enroll in the discussion.
Displaying feedback 1 to one hundred of one hundred sixty
7 Feb 2011 3:09
Beautiful as it is even in my language, I even have by no means heard it sung to an similarly catching music.
We have a song inspired with the aid of it, an invite to exit and revel in the day: every day is a golden cup, stuffed to the brim with wine. Come, drink my buddy, drink solar and heady scent for the day is yours. Not so correct a poem however a excellent tune.
7 Feb 2011 3:21
I am a sheep. That’s the manner I examine it.
Soldiers is what the Guvnor calls us. Footsoldiers.
The Guvnor is Jackie Lord. His firm
Looks out for its footsoldiers, sees them proper.
He sets you up in your personal turf, friendly landlord
In the battle cruiser; all I should do is
Follow the alternative sheep, keep my nose clean
And be sure to mention his name if pulled via the pigs.
For once I’m down on the dodgy aspect of King’s Cross
Of an nighttime, he’s given me a Glock 19 and
A couple of heavies for safety. The different night
I’m within the Dog and Trout, and Jackie calls me over.
He slings Slimy Pete’s group off his desk so I can consume
My kebab in peace, then keeps the pints coming,
Cupping my head in his extremely good paw. A little chook tells me
I’ll soon be invited to his unfold close to Harlow.
And then everything will be hunky dory.
View more feedback
Most viewed Across The Guardian
Most regarded In Books
Boris Johnson’s modern day Covid strategy: no hope and no lead to sight
Tempers flare over new Covid policies as PM warns: ‘We need to act now’
Business magnificence turned into my chance to get domestic. After 24 hours of niceness, I desire I had my $7,000 back
LiveCoronavirus live news: Trump ‘exams negative’ for Covid; primary vaccine trial paused
Lewis Hamilton hits again at ‘older drivers’ after file success
Cabin fever: tickets for meal onboard Singapore parked aircraft sell out
MPs reject calls by campaigners to enshrine meals protection in UK law
Ministers instructed weeks in the past to impose brief lockdown or face ‘massive epidemic’
Beatified millennial: Pope sets overdue tech whiz on direction to sainthood
Biden campaigns in red state Ohio, hoping to amplify battleground map
How to eat sushi: lay off the wasabi and dip the fish – now not the rice – into the soy sauce
Amy Coney Barrett went to my all-girls high college. I hope she’s now not confirmed
Lisa M O’Neill
BooksMusicTV & radioArt & designFilmGamesClassicalStage
Complaints & corrections
Work for us
Terms & conditions
Digital newspaper archive
Advertise with us
Search UK jobs
Support The Guardian
Available for every person, funded via readers