My little Gnudren,

On Wednesday 5^th May in the year of our Lord One thousand Nine Hundred and Eighty Two (1982) when we were all listening to the soundtrack of Vangelis’ Chariots of Fire on vinyl, Ronald Reagan being President of the United States of America, and the Right Honourable Mrs. Margaret Thatcher being Prime Minister, the Falklands War being in its fifth week, and it being the birthdays of Søren Kierkegaard (Philosopher given to melancholia (see below)), Michael Palin,  Afonso III, King of Portugal (1248-79), and Adele (though not yet born),  Old Gnu sat in a room among piles and piles of jumbled paper, otherwise know as his office. He was grieved that we were bombing the hell out of our chief providers of Corned Beef. What is more, they had a very reasonable Foot(and Hand)ball team.

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So to divert himself, as one does on such occasions, he sat reading a poem by William Wordsworth: Lines Written in Early Spring (1798). In this poem Mr. Wordsworth contemplates the beauty of Nature around him and the pleasure it seems to have in its own existence – little birds hopping around and playing among budding twigs and the earth springing into life.

He compares this to the ugliness of mans’ actions and concludes the poem by saying, Have I not reason to lament what man has made of man?

It occurred to Old Gnu that, despite the fact that Mr. Wordsworth was not in the Bible, he might use some or all of this poem to write a song that might be suitable for a Guest Service at Christ Church Clifton.

But that night it also occurred to Old Gnu that footage of lions mauling  harmless innocent Gnus to death had been swept aside by Mr. Wordsworth…  neither had he taken the trouble to consider such footage in the writing of this poem.

For the poor Gnu victim there was no ‘pleasure there’ which Mr. Wordsworth implies all of Nature exudes in his poem. So Old Gnu became quite cynical about Mr. Wordsworth’s highly romanticised view of Nature and took revenge by writing The Wordsworth Blues. This is not Blues in the musical genre sense, but refers to the melancholia in this poem to which Mr. Wordsworth and many Victorian poets were susceptible, including Søren Kierkegaard who was not only a poet, but a Philosopher and Theologian – a far worse fate.

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Further concrete evidence of the Melancholia suffered by poets of the 18^th and 19^th centuries is provided by the episode, Ink and Incapability of BLACKADDER III, in a scene which takes place Mrs. Miggins’ Literary Salon.

Old Gnu actually likes Mr. Wordsworth quite a lot, but we all have our blind spots, including Mr. Wordsworth.

Incidentally, the poor singer who recorded this track did it in the space of half an hour, having never seen the music before.  Old Gnu besought [beseeched] him to do it so he could get a feel for the problems it posed the singer. The singer protested but obliged, saying it was not his thing or in his range. At least he has given us something with which to celebrate Mr. Wordsworth’s birthday today.

It never made it to a Guest Service. I’m still wondering why.

Incidentally can old Gnu remind you there is rip-roaring good watch on YouTube where a Gnu sees off 2 Lions tossing one around on its horns. But he must have suffered some injuries. I’ve tried to find this footage again unsuccessfully. But Old Gnu is sure that my little Gnudren who are computer savvy techies will find it in no time at all. You will be edified. But my dreams that all lions were principled animals, like Simba, were shattered a long time ago.

Anyway, Happy Birthday Mr. Wordsworth!

Vetus Pater Gnu
Academiae Musicorum et Theologia
Turris LA
IV Mense Aprilis MMXIX