CALIBAN ON ARIEL by Algernon Charles Swinburne: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This is a Shakespearean-style sonnet where Swinburne adopts the voice of Caliban — the brutish, resentful slave from *The Tempest* — and uses Caliban's own harsh words against him.
The poem
"_His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract_" The tongue is loosed of that most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness. Listen: "Lo, The real god of song, Lord Stephano, That's a brave god, if ever god were brave, And bears celestial liquor: but," the knave (A most ridiculous monster) howls, "we know From Ariel's lips what springs of poison flow, The chicken-heart blasphemer! Hear him rave!" Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, the witch whose name Is darkness, and the sun her eyes' offence, Though hell's hot sewerage breed no loathlier elf, Men cry not shame upon thee, seeing thy shame So perfect: they but bid thee--"Hag-seed, hence!"
This is a Shakespearean-style sonnet where Swinburne adopts the voice of Caliban — the brutish, resentful slave from *The Tempest* — and uses Caliban's own harsh words against him. Caliban hails the drunken fool Stephano as a "god of song" while he criticizes Ariel, the spirit of genuine poetry, as a poisoner. By the poem's conclusion, the attack is turned back on Caliban, who is dismissed with Prospero's scornful insult: "Hag-seed, hence!"
Line-by-line
The tongue is loosed of that most lying slave, / Whom stripes may move, not kindness.
"Lo, / The real god of song, Lord Stephano,"
And bears celestial liquor: but," the knave / (A most ridiculous monster) howls,
"we know / From Ariel's lips what springs of poison flow,"
Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself / Upon thy wicked dam, the witch whose name / Is darkness,
Men cry not shame upon thee, seeing thy shame / So perfect: they but bid thee--"Hag-seed, hence!"
Tone & mood
The tone is scornful and theatrical—Swinburne is clearly reveling in it. Beneath the surface, there's genuine anger aimed at whoever Caliban symbolizes (whether that be bad critics, philistine tastes, or enemies of lyric poetry), yet the outward presentation is almost playful, infused with mock-heroic exaggeration and sharp echoes of Shakespeare. The poem conveys contempt through performance rather than merely stating it.
Symbols & metaphors
- Caliban — Caliban, drawn from Shakespeare's *The Tempest*, represents a crude and grounded animosity towards beauty and art — a voice filled with resentment that can only bring destruction, not creation. Swinburne employs him to embody poor criticism or a lack of appreciation for art.
- Ariel — The light-hearted essence of *The Tempest* embodies true lyric poetry and artistic creativity. Caliban referring to Ariel's lips as a "spring of poison" highlights the poem's main irony: the most enchanting voice is the one that the monster despises the most.
- Lord Stephano / celestial liquor — The drunken butler, dubbed a "god of song," represents mediocrity adored by those unable to distinguish between true inspiration and drunkenness. The humor lies in the fact that Caliban envisions poetry as simply a drunk with a bottle.
- Darkness (Sycorax) — Caliban's witch-mother, referred to as "darkness," symbolizes the source of all that stands against light, beauty, and art. By calling her "the sun her eyes' offence," it suggests that even daylight harms her — she embodies the essence of anti-beauty.
- "Hag-seed, hence!" — The final insult, taken straight from Prospero in *The Tempest*, serves as a clear sign of dismissal without any room for discussion. It conveys a message: you aren't worth the effort of an argument. The poem concludes not with a rebuttal but with a door forcefully closed.
Historical context
Swinburne crafted this poem as a form of literary debate, wielding Shakespeare's characters to argue about poetry and criticism. By the 1860s and 1870s, he had become one of England's most controversial poets; his *Poems and Ballads* (1866) faced harsh criticism as immoral and obscene from those he deemed Calibans—people of poor taste who berated true art. The epigraph is drawn from Act II of *The Tempest*, where Trinculo refers to Caliban's "backward voice." Swinburne's sonnet acts as a dramatic monologue that gives voice to the enemy to reveal their flaws. This poem is part of a longstanding tradition of using Shakespeare's characters as symbolic figures—Caliban representing philistinism and Ariel embodying lyrical grace—throughout Victorian literary culture and into the twentieth century.
FAQ
Caliban is the monstrous slave in Shakespeare's *The Tempest*—resentful, crude, and hostile to beauty. Swinburne uses him as a ready-made symbol for bad critics or anyone who criticizes genuine poetry out of ignorance or spite. By drawing on a well-known character, Swinburne effectively conveys his point without needing to create a villain from scratch.
Ariel represents the spirit of the air in *The Tempest*, embodying music, freedom, and grace. In Swinburne's poem, he symbolizes authentic lyric poetry. When Caliban claims that Ariel's lips create "springs of poison," it should be seen as absurd — it's the bitter falsehood of someone who fails to recognize beauty.
Swinburne doesn't specify a target, but it's clear that the poem expresses his frustration towards critics who criticized his work, especially those who harshly reviewed *Poems and Ballads* in 1866. The portrayal of Stephano as a "god of song" might also be a jab at poets Swinburne felt were inflated in reputation.
It’s a Petrarchan-style sonnet, consisting of 14 lines split into an octave (8 lines) and a sestet (6 lines). The octave allows Caliban to express his thoughts, while the sestet shifts the focus back to him. The volta, or turn, occurs at "Thou poisonous slave," marking the point where the poem moves from quoting Caliban to addressing him directly.
It is Prospero's insult for Caliban in *The Tempest*—literally "the offspring of a hag (witch)." Swinburne concludes the poem with this to show that Caliban merits not a thoughtful response but a straightforward, scornful dismissal. It's like the verbal equivalent of kicking someone out of the room.
In *The Tempest*, Caliban confuses Stephano's bottle of wine with divine power and begins to worship him like a god. Swinburne uses this moment to poke fun at readers or critics who confuse loud, drunken chatter with genuine poetry. The humor lies in the fact that Caliban's taste in art is just as poor as his taste in deities.
The epigraph is taken from *The Tempest* and alludes to Caliban's "backward voice" — a voice that twists and misrepresents instead of shedding light. This concept frames the entire poem: everything Caliban utters is a distorted reflection of the truth, and his criticism of Ariel actually reveals more about himself.
The poem suggests that those who criticize genuine art often expose their own flaws instead of the art itself. Caliban labels Ariel as poisonous, but by the poem's conclusion, all the accusations have reflected back onto Caliban. The takeaway is clear: a critic who opposes beauty isn't worth your time—just ignore them and keep moving forward.