Rhymes a la Mode — Context and Discussion

Classical and Historical Echoes

Several poems draw directly on classical sources. 'The Fortunate Islands' begins with the speaker lingering over Lucian before dreaming of a voyage to the Isles of the Blessed. Lang adapts the Greek satirist's vision into a dream-journey, blending myth with personal longing. In 'Νήνεμος Αἰών,' the speaker wishes for other times—under Horus and hawk in Egypt, between the Five Great Rivers, in a Touraine abbey before Luther or Rabelais. The poem's repeated 'I would my days had been in other times' creates a litany of nostalgia, yet the final image of Santhal ashes drifting down sacred rivers undercuts any simple romanticism. Lang's classical learning is not merely decorative; it structures the emotional argument of the collection.

Satirical Self-Portraits of the Literary Life

Lang repeatedly turns his wit on the literary and artistic professions. 'A very woful Ballade of the Art Critic' presents a critic who trudges through galleries 'with aching feet and head,' writing for daily bread while artists 'hate thee with a bitter spite.' The envoy advises, 'scribble since thou must, or die.' In 'Ballade of Literary Fame,' the speaker imagines his works ending up in the 'Fourpenny Box'—the cheap remainder bin—where they lie 'cropped' and 'foxed to the core.' 'Ballade of the Book-man's Paradise' offers a humorous vision of an afterlife stocked with rare editions. These poems are not general complaints but specific, self-aware performances of the writer's precarious position in a commercial marketplace.

Formal Play and Parodic Invention

Lang experiments with medieval French forms—ballade, rondeau, triolet—often with a parodic edge. 'Ballade of the Primitive Jest' traces the evolution of humor from a caveman's 'first rude joke' to modern wit, while 'Ballade of a Friar' and 'Ballade of Neglected Merit' mock institutional hypocrisy. 'Art's Martyr' tells of a young man who travels to Borneo to be tattooed 'after the heathen manner' but finds European commerce has 'debased the savage kind'; he is tattooed in garish modern colors and exiled forever. The poem's deadpan delivery and absurd premise (the Dyacks 'are not æsthetic blacks') satirize both aestheticism and colonialism. Lang's formal skill allows him to sustain these jokes across multiple stanzas without losing metrical control.

Readers approaching Rhymes a la Mode should note that the poems were written for periodical publication and often assume familiarity with Victorian literary culture, classical mythology, and contemporary artistic debates. The notes at the end clarify some allusions, but many references—to Grosvenor Gallery, to 'Tadema's delight,' to the 'Fourpenny Box'—reward a reader curious about the 1880s literary scene. Lang's tone is consistently ironic, but the irony is rarely cruel; it is the stance of a learned observer who knows that empires, creeds, and even his own verses will eventually fade.

That rainy afternoon, Lang’s ballades—full of bookmen’s paradise and bric-à-brac—kept me company. His playful sorrow made me wonder about other, quieter ghosts. Afterwards, I wandered into Lamia — Reading Companion, finding a similar ache beneath glass-clear lines. Both leave space for a sigh; neither ever raises its voice.