Andrew Marvell

Damon the Mower

Damon and Juliana

Classical pastoral names—but Damon is a worker, not a shepherd. Marvell reverses the usual hierarchy where shepherds are refined and mowers are crude.

Heark how the Mower Damon Sung,
With love of Juliana stung!
While ev'ry thing did seem to paint
The Scene more fit for his complaint.
Like her fair Eyes the day was fair;
But scorching like his am'rous Care.
Sharp like his Sythe his Sorrow was,
And wither'd like his Hopes the Grass.
II.
Oh what unusual Heats are here,
Which thus our Sun-burn'd Meadows sear!
The Grass-hopper its pipe gives ore;
And hamstring'd Frogs can dance no more.
But in the brook the green Frog wades;
And Grass-hoppers seek out the shades.
Only the Snake, that kept within,
Now glitters in its second skin.
III.
This heat the Sun could never raise,
Nor Dog-star so inflame's the dayes.

Dog-star

Sirius, the star that rises in late July, supposedly causing the hottest days. Ancient belief that it literally added heat to the sun.

It from an higher Beauty grow'th,
Which burns the Fields and Mower both:
Which made the Dog, and makes the Sun

Phaeton reference

Phaeton drove the sun chariot too close to earth and scorched it. Damon claims Juliana makes the sun hotter than its own mythological disaster.

Hotter then his own Phæton.
Not July causeth these Extremes,
But Juliana's scorching beams.
IV.
Tell me where I may pass the Fires
Of the hot day, or hot desires.
To what cool Cave shall I descend,
Or to what gelid Fountain bend?

gelid Fountain

Gelid = icy cold. He's asking where to escape heat, but notice the answer: nowhere, because even remedies 'complain' (are hot).

Alas! I look for Ease in vain,
When Remedies themselves complain.
No moisture but my Tears do rest,
Nor Cold but in her Icy Breast.
V.
How long wilt Thou, fair Shepheardess,
Esteem me, and my Presents less?

Snake as gift

Pastoral lovers give flowers. Damon brings defanged snakes and chameleons—weird gifts that show he doesn't understand courtship conventions.

To Thee the harmless Snake I bring,
Disarmed of its teeth and sting.
To Thee Chameleons changing-hue,
And Oak leaves tipt with hony due.
Yet Thou ungrateful hast not sought
Nor what they are, nor who them brought.
VI.
I am the Mower Damon, known
Through all the Meadows I have mown.
On me the Morn her dew distills
Before her darling Daffadils.
And, if at Noon my toil me heat,
The Sun himself lick's off my Sweat.
While, going home, the Ev'ning sweet
In cowslip-water bathes my feet.
VII.
What, though the piping Shepherd stock
The plains with an unnum'red Flock,
This Sithe of mine discovers wide

Mower vs. Shepherd

Shepherds are the elite of pastoral poetry. Damon argues mowing is superior—his scythe 'discovers' more ground than sheep can cover.

More ground then all his Sheep do hide.

golden fleece

Jason's golden fleece from myth. Damon claims his hay-cutting is like heroic sheep-shearing, elevating manual labor to epic status.

With this the golden fleece I shear
Of all these Closes ev'ry Year.
And though in Wooll more poor then they,
Yet am I richer far in Hay.
VIII.
Nor am I so deform'd to sight,
If in my Sithe I looked right;

Scythe as mirror

He sees himself reflected in his scythe blade like the sun in a crescent moon. The tool of death becomes his mirror—ominous foreshadowing.

In which I see my Picture done,
As in a crescent Moon the Sun.
The deathless Fairyes take me oft
To lead them in their Danses soft:
And, when I tune my self to sing,
About me they contract their Ring.
IX.
How happy might I still have mow'd,

Love's thistles

Thistles are weeds that grow in mown fields. Love has planted obstacles in the field of his life—a metaphor that becomes literal in the next stanza.

Had not Love here his Thistles sow'd!
But now I all the day complain,
Joyning my Labour to my Pain;
And with my Sythe cut down the Grass,
Yet still my Grief is where it was:
But, when the Iron blunter grows,
Sighing I whet my Sythe and Woes.

whet my Sythe and Woes

Whetting = sharpening. The physical act of sharpening his blade merges with sharpening his sorrows. Labor and grief become identical.

X.
While thus he threw his Elbow round,
Depopulating all the Ground,
And, with his whistling Sythe, does cut
Each stroke between the Earth and Root,
The edged Stele by careless chance
Did into his own Ankle glance;
And there among the Grass fell down,

Mower mown

The perfect ironic reversal: the cutter becomes the cut. His tool literally turns against him, completing the metaphor of self-destruction through love.

By his own Sythe, the Mower mown.
XI.
Alas! said He, these hurts are slight
To those that dye by Loves despight.
With Shepherds-purse, and Clowns-all-heal,

Shepherds-purse, Clowns-all-heal

Real medicinal herbs. Shepherd's purse stops bleeding; clown's all-heal (self-heal) closes wounds. He knows field medicine but can't cure lovesickness.

The Blood I stanch, and Wound I seal.
Only for him no Cure is found,
Whom Julianas Eyes do wound.
'Tis death alone that this must do:
For Death thou art a Mower too.

Damon and Juliana

Classical pastoral names—but Damon is a worker, not a shepherd. Marvell reverses the usual hierarchy where shepherds are refined and mowers are crude.

Heark how the Mower Damon Sung,
With love of Juliana stung!
While ev'ry thing did seem to paint
The Scene more fit for his complaint.
Like her fair Eyes the day was fair;
But scorching like his am'rous Care.
Sharp like his Sythe his Sorrow was,
And wither'd like his Hopes the Grass.
Oh what unusual Heats are here,
Which thus our Sun-burn'd Meadows sear!
The Grass-hopper its pipe gives ore;
And hamstring'd Frogs can dance no more.
But in the brook the green Frog wades;
And Grass-hoppers seek out the shades.
Only the Snake, that kept within,
Now glitters in its second skin.
This heat the Sun could never raise,
Nor Dog-star so inflame's the dayes.

Dog-star

Sirius, the star that rises in late July, supposedly causing the hottest days. Ancient belief that it literally added heat to the sun.

It from an higher Beauty grow'th,
Which burns the Fields and Mower both:
Which made the Dog, and makes the Sun

Phaeton reference

Phaeton drove the sun chariot too close to earth and scorched it. Damon claims Juliana makes the sun hotter than its own mythological disaster.

Hotter then his own Phæton.
Not July causeth these Extremes,
But Juliana's scorching beams.
Tell me where I may pass the Fires
Of the hot day, or hot desires.
To what cool Cave shall I descend,
Or to what gelid Fountain bend?

gelid Fountain

Gelid = icy cold. He's asking where to escape heat, but notice the answer: nowhere, because even remedies 'complain' (are hot).

Alas! I look for Ease in vain,
When Remedies themselves complain.
No moisture but my Tears do rest,
Nor Cold but in her Icy Breast.
How long wilt Thou, fair Shepheardess,
Esteem me, and my Presents less?

Snake as gift

Pastoral lovers give flowers. Damon brings defanged snakes and chameleons—weird gifts that show he doesn't understand courtship conventions.

To Thee the harmless Snake I bring,
Disarmed of its teeth and sting.
To Thee Chameleons changing-hue,
And Oak leaves tipt with hony due.
Yet Thou ungrateful hast not sought
Nor what they are, nor who them brought.
I am the Mower Damon, known
Through all the Meadows I have mown.
On me the Morn her dew distills
Before her darling Daffadils.
And, if at Noon my toil me heat,
The Sun himself lick's off my Sweat.
While, going home, the Ev'ning sweet
In cowslip-water bathes my feet.
What, though the piping Shepherd stock
The plains with an unnum'red Flock,
This Sithe of mine discovers wide

Mower vs. Shepherd

Shepherds are the elite of pastoral poetry. Damon argues mowing is superior—his scythe 'discovers' more ground than sheep can cover.

More ground then all his Sheep do hide.

golden fleece

Jason's golden fleece from myth. Damon claims his hay-cutting is like heroic sheep-shearing, elevating manual labor to epic status.

With this the golden fleece I shear
Of all these Closes ev'ry Year.
And though in Wooll more poor then they,
Yet am I richer far in Hay.
Nor am I so deform'd to sight,
If in my Sithe I looked right;

Scythe as mirror

He sees himself reflected in his scythe blade like the sun in a crescent moon. The tool of death becomes his mirror—ominous foreshadowing.

In which I see my Picture done,
As in a crescent Moon the Sun.
The deathless Fairyes take me oft
To lead them in their Danses soft:
And, when I tune my self to sing,
About me they contract their Ring.
How happy might I still have mow'd,

Love's thistles

Thistles are weeds that grow in mown fields. Love has planted obstacles in the field of his life—a metaphor that becomes literal in the next stanza.

Had not Love here his Thistles sow'd!
But now I all the day complain,
Joyning my Labour to my Pain;
And with my Sythe cut down the Grass,
Yet still my Grief is where it was:
But, when the Iron blunter grows,
Sighing I whet my Sythe and Woes.

whet my Sythe and Woes

Whetting = sharpening. The physical act of sharpening his blade merges with sharpening his sorrows. Labor and grief become identical.

While thus he threw his Elbow round,
Depopulating all the Ground,
And, with his whistling Sythe, does cut
Each stroke between the Earth and Root,
The edged Stele by careless chance
Did into his own Ankle glance;
And there among the Grass fell down,

Mower mown

The perfect ironic reversal: the cutter becomes the cut. His tool literally turns against him, completing the metaphor of self-destruction through love.

By his own Sythe, the Mower mown.
Alas! said He, these hurts are slight
To those that dye by Loves despight.
With Shepherds-purse, and Clowns-all-heal,

Shepherds-purse, Clowns-all-heal

Real medicinal herbs. Shepherd's purse stops bleeding; clown's all-heal (self-heal) closes wounds. He knows field medicine but can't cure lovesickness.

The Blood I stanch, and Wound I seal.
Only for him no Cure is found,
Whom Julianas Eyes do wound.
'Tis death alone that this must do:
For Death thou art a Mower too.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Mower as Anti-Shepherd

Marvell wrote four mower poems in the 1650s, all inverting pastoral conventions. Traditional pastoral features shepherds—leisured, refined figures who pipe songs and tend gentle flocks. Marvell's Damon is a mower, a manual laborer who cuts grass with a scythe. This isn't just a detail; it's a class argument.

Damon explicitly compares himself to shepherds in stanza VII, claiming superiority. His scythe "discovers wide / More ground then all his Sheep do hide." The verb discovers is crucial—it means both "uncovers" (literally revealing ground) and "finds" (like explorers discovering new lands). He's reframing agricultural labor as exploration and conquest. When he calls his hay the golden fleece, he's comparing himself to Jason, the mythological hero. Mowing becomes epic.

But notice what Damon gets wrong. His gifts to Juliana—defanged snakes, chameleons, honeydew on oak leaves—are bizarre. Pastoral lovers give flowers and sing songs. Damon brings her things he finds in fields, like a cat bringing dead mice. He doesn't understand the conventions he's trying to join. This is a worker trying to court above his station, and Marvell lets us see both his dignity and his delusion.

The poem was written during the Interregnum (1649-1660), when England had no king and social hierarchies were in flux. Marvell, working for Cromwell's government, was interested in how people from different classes saw themselves. Damon's pride in his work is genuine—the morning dew falls on him before the daffodils, the sun licks his sweat, evening bathes his feet. Nature itself honors his labor. But his self-image depends on a scythe that will literally cut him down.

Heat, Cutting, and the Logic of Metaphor

The poem runs on two extended metaphors that become literal in the final stanzas. First: Juliana's beauty causes heat. This starts as conventional Petrarchan hyperbole—the beloved's eyes are like the sun. But Marvell pushes it to absurdity. Damon claims she's hotter than the actual sun, hotter than Sirius (the Dog Star), hotter than Phaeton (who literally set the earth on fire). The grasshoppers stop singing, frogs can't jump, only the snake thrives by shedding its skin. This is climate disaster as love complaint.

Second: the scythe represents both his work and his sorrow. "Sharp like his Sythe his Sorrow was" in stanza I establishes the parallel. By stanza IX, he's "whetting" both his scythe and his woes simultaneously—the metaphor has collapsed the distinction between tool and emotion. Then in stanza X, the metaphor becomes physical reality. His scythe cuts his ankle, and he falls "By his own Sythe, the Mower mown." The grammar mirrors the action: subject becomes object, cutter becomes cut.

The final stanza completes the pattern. He dismisses his physical wound as "slight / To those that dye by Loves despight," but then addresses Death directly: "For Death thou art a Mower too." Death mows people like Damon mows grass. The metaphor that seemed like decoration turns out to be the poem's argument. His profession is death—he kills grass for a living—and love has made him turn that death on himself.

Marvell is obsessed with this move throughout his work: taking a metaphor and asking what happens if it's literally true. In "To His Coy Mistress," time literally devours; in "The Garden," the mind literally creates worlds. Here, the beloved's heat literally burns, and the mower's tool literally mows him. It's metaphysical poetry's signature trick—make the figurative physical and see what breaks.