The Maniac

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Narrative Poem
    I saw them sitting in the shade;          The long green vines hung over,     But could not hide the gold-haired maid          And Earl, my dark-eyed lover.     His arm was clasped so close, so close,          Her eyes were softly lifted,     While his eyes drank the cheek of rose          And breasts like snowflakes drifted.     A strange noise sounded in my brain;          I was a guest unbidden.     I stole away, but came again          With two knives snugly hidden.     I stood behind them.    Close they kissed,          While eye to eye was speaking;     I aimed my steels, and neither missed          The heart I sent it seeking.     There were two death-shrieks mingled so          It seemed like one voice crying,     I laughed - it was such bliss, you know,          To hear and see them dying.     I laughed and shouted while I stood          Above the lovers, gazing     Upon the trickling rills of blood          And frightened eyes fast glazing.     It was such joy to see the rose          Fade from her cheek for ever;     To know the lips he kissed so close          Could answer never, never.     To see his arm grow stark and cold,          And know it could not hold her;     To know that while the world grew old          His eyes could not behold her.     A crowd of people thronged about,          Brought thither by my laughter;     I gave one last triumphant shout -          Then darkness followed after.     That was a thousand years ago;          Each hour I live it over,     For there, just out of reach, you know,          She lies, with Earl, my lover.     They lie there, staring, staring so          With great, glazed eyes to taunt me.     Will no one bury them down low,          Where they shall cease to haunt me?     He kissed her lips, not mine; the flowers          And vines hung all about them.     Sometimes I sit and laugh for hours          To think just how I found them.     And then I sometimes stand and shriek          In agony of terror:     I see the red warm in her cheek,          Then laugh loud at my error.     My cheek was all too pale, he thought;          He deemed hers far the brightest.     Ha! but my dagger touched a spot          That made her face the whitest!     But oh! the days seem very long,          Without my Earl, my lover;     And something in my head seems wrong          The more I think it over.     Ah! look - she is not dead - look there!          She's standing close beside me!     Her eyes are open - how they stare!          Oh, hide me! hide me! hide me!

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Poem Details

Language: English
Keywords: Public Domain
Source: Public Domain Collection
Rights/Permissions: Public Domain
Analysis & Notes:
This poem is a chilling narrative, masterfully woven, that explores themes of jealousy, love, betrayal, revenge, and madness. The poet employs a first-person perspective to bring the reader into the tormented mind of the speaker, who is driven to murder by the sight of her lover, Earl, with another woman. This perspective creates a disturbing intimacy between the reader and the speaker, enhancing the horror of the events described.

The poem is structured as a dramatic monologue with a consistent rhythm and rhyme scheme, which contrasts sharply with the chaotic emotions it depicts. The poet uses vivid and often macabre imagery to portray the speaker's actions and mental state, such as "the trickling rills of blood" and "great, glazed eyes". The repetition of certain phrases, like "Earl, my lover" and "hide me", reinforces the speaker's obsessive thoughts and escalating madness.

The tone of the poem is dark and haunting. Despite the speaker's moments of triumphant laughter, there is an underlying sense of despair and regret that becomes more apparent as the poem progresses. The final stanza, in which the speaker hallucinates the presence of her victims, leaves the reader with a chilling portrayal of guilt and insanity. This poem is a powerful exploration of the destructive potential of jealousy and the tragic consequences of unchecked passion.

Exploring Narrative Poetry

Narrative poetry is a form of poetry that tells a story, often making use of the voices of a narrator and characters as well. Unlike lyric poetry, which focuses on emotions and thoughts, narrative poetry is dedicated to storytelling, weaving tales that captivate readers through plot and character development.

Narrative poems are unique in their ability to combine the depth of storytelling with the expressive qualities of poetry. Here are some defining characteristics:

  • Structured Plot: Narrative poems typically have a clear beginning, middle, and end, following a plot that might involve conflict, climax, and resolution, much like a short story or novel.
  • Character Development: Characters in narrative poems are often well-developed, with distinct voices and personalities that drive the story forward.
  • Descriptive Language: The language used in narrative poetry is vivid and descriptive, painting a clear picture of the scenes and events, while also conveying the emotions and atmosphere of the story.

From ancient epics like "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" to more modern narrative poems, this form continues to engage readers by blending the art of storytelling with the beauty and rhythm of poetry.