O p e n i n g s3 3just a standard piece of hyperbole. We are not expected to take
them as burningly sincere. It is true that ‘He must not float upon
his wat’ry bier / Unwept, and welter to the parching wind’ sounds
tender enough. (Daringly, these lines get away with no fewer than
four w sounds, without one feeling that this is excessive.) But the
statement might also suggest rather less tenderly that somebody
is going to have to mourn for King, so Milton had better do
so himself.
The image of the watery bier, incidentally, is extraordinarily
powerful. As critics have pointed out, it evokes the terrible vision
of a man being tossed around in water yet dying of thirst (‘parching
wind’). The ‘melodious tear’, a bold enough image since tears do
not pipe or warble, is a matter of weeping for Lycidas, bestowing a
poem on him, but also of giving him water. There is something
slightly odd about this last sense of the phrase, since lack of water
is usually the last of a drowned man’s problems. ‘Meed’ here means
a tribute, but it can also mean a reward, which would suggest rather
bizarrely that the poem is offered to King by way of recompense for
his death. One assumes it is the first sense of the word that the poet
has in mind.
The fact that Milton may be writing a touch reluctantly is
neither here nor there. A poet can compose an authentic lament
without feeling in the least distraught, just as he or she can write
about love without feeling in the least amorous. Milton’s lines are
moving, even if the poet himself is not moved. Or not moved, at
least, by King’s early death. One suspects that he is more perturbed
by the prospect that he himself may also be cut off in his prime,
before he has a chance to become the great poet he aspires to be.
Both the prematurity of King’s death and the supposed immaturity
of Milton as a poet are reminders of this alarming possibility. He