But Alas, Poems Do Pass . . .

The normally placid waters of literary scholarship are being moderately roiled these days by a controversy over the authenticity of a hitherto neglected if not entirely unknown poem attributed to William Shakespeare. Apparently composed nearly 400 years ago, the poem was brought to public attention after Gary Taylor, an editor with Oxford University Press, came across it in Oxford’s Bodleian Library. The lyric carried Shakespeare’s name, a fact that a number of scholars had earlier noted and diligently ignored. Why this lack of interest? One reason may be that fake Shakespeare poems were nearly as common in his day as counterfeit blue jeans are in ours. Just because a poem carries Shakespeare’s byline does not necessarily make it the master’s.

Taylor, who is helping to edit a new edition of Shakespeare, thinks that he is on to the real stuff. He bases his conclusion on a rigorous analysis of the poem’s internal evidence. This has shown a large number of parallels--Taylor counts 107-- between the poem’s language and imagery and what is found in poems and plays long accepted as authentically Shakespearean. That is plausible; writers often take a shine to what they write, and figure that if something worked once it will work again. Writers trying to meet a deadline, as Shakespeare sometimes had to do, may be especially prone to repetition. But aren’t there risks to making too big a thing of verbal parallels?

But alas , reads the poem, dreams do pass/as do shadows . . . . Taylor finds four other uses of but alas in the Shakespeare canon. The expression, though, must certainly have showed (or shewed, as Shakespeare would have it) up with tedious regularity in all kinds of communication, as in “I had sworn to repay my debt to you on the morrow, but alas , I wagered unwisely whilst casting dice with evil companions.” Similarly, the poem’s who seeks/Shall find there . . . can hardly be considered proprietary just because of its echo in “Antony and Cleopatra.” Shakespeare plagiarized plots and language from a lot of sources, including, while we’re on the subject, from Plutarch for “Antony and Cleopatra.” Seek in Matthew 7:7 and ye shall find the widely known source for that one.

We make no rush to judgment; the argument over authenticity is rightfully the province of Shakespeare scholars. We are less reticent about commenting on the quality of the poem. It frankly strikes us as a really pretty wretched piece of doggerel, cheaply rhymed and lumpy in meter, and while it won’t diminish Shakespeare’s reputation, neither can it possibly enhance it. Those who love Shakespeare can only hope that the real author of this misbegotten verse will ultimately be shown to be Francis Bacon.