![]() ![]() So, let the blue lump poise between my knees, Sons, all have I bequeathed you, villas, all, īedded in store of rotten fig-leaves soft,īlue as a vein o’er the Madonna’s breast. The white-grape vineyard where the oil-press stood,Īnd if ye find. My sons, ye would not be my death? Go dig What then? So much was saved if aught were missed! Rosy and flawless: how I earned the prize!ĭraw close: that conflagration of my church Put me where I may look at him! True peach, ![]() Old Gandolf with his paltry onion-stone, Peach-blossom marble all, the rare, the ripeĪs fresh-poured red wine of a mighty pulse. The odd one at my feet where Anselm stands: With those nine columns round me, two and two, The angels, and a sunbeam’s sure to lurk Īnd I shall fill my slab of basalt there, Yet still my niche is not so cramped but thenceĪnd somewhat of the choir, those silent seats, Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: Saint Praxed’s ever was the church for peace Īnd so, about this tomb of mine. ![]() “Do I live, am I dead?” Peace, peace seems all. Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask What’s done is done, and she is dead beside,Īnd as she died so must we die ourselves,Īnd thence ye may perceive the world’s a dream. She, men would have to be your mother once, “The Bishop Orders His Tomb at Saint Praxed’s Church”ĭraw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? All the time he’s getting more and paranoid his family will ignore his wishes and bury him in trashy travertine, gritstone, or, horror of horrors: onion-stone. As he rants, the materials of the tomb get grander and grander, progressing from basalt, then basalt embellished with a lump of lapis he has secreted away for the task, to the entire tomb being fashioned from the blue mineral. The storyline is about an old Bishop on his death bed, planning the construction of his tomb in a prime spot in the church – something that will outshine that of his predecessor Gandolf (as opposed to Gandalf). Strangely perhaps, my resonance with this rock is poetic, not scientific, as it featured in a Robert Browning poem I studied for my English Literature O-Level I can still remember sitting in the exam scribbling – all those years ago when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth. Modern ultramarine is most often synthetic. It’s a semi-precious stone which when ground up becomes ultramarine, the intense blue pigment you see in old religious paintings. This is my chunk of Lapis Lazuli: mainly lazurite ((Na,Ca) 8(AlSiO 4) 6(S,SO 4,Cl) 1-2) with some shiny pyrite (iron sulphide) streaks. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |