Thomas Wyatt

My galley (Wyatt)

My galley charged with forgetfulness
Thorough sharp seas, in winter nights doth pass
'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas,

Petrarchan conceit

Wyatt imports the love-as-shipwreck metaphor from Italian poetry, but makes it specifically about powerlessness. The speaker isn't steering—his lord/beloved is, and steering with 'cruelness.' This reverses the typical power dynamic.

That is my lord, steereth with cruelness;
And every oar a thought in readiness,

Personified emotions

Each oar becomes a thought, the wind is made of sighs, the rain is tears. Wyatt doesn't describe feeling despair—he constructs the ship from emotional materials. The metaphor is the feeling.

As though that death were light in such a case.
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness.
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain,
Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance;
Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance.

Stars as navigation

In Renaissance poetry, stars guide ships and lovers. Here they're 'hid'—the speaker has lost both literal and metaphorical direction. This is why he's 'despairing of the port' at the end.

The stars be hid that led me to this pain.
Drowned is reason that should me consort,

Reason drowns

The final volta: reason, which should 'consort' (accompany/comfort) him, is drowned. Without reason or stars or steering control, the speaker has no tools left. Despair is the logical endpoint.

And I remain despairing of the port.
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Petrarchan Shipwreck: Wyatt's Twist on Italian Convention

CONTEXT Wyatt translated and adapted Petrarchan sonnets while at Henry VIII's court—a politically dangerous position where love poetry doubled as courtly commentary. This poem uses the conventional shipwreck metaphor (storm = suffering love) but weaponizes it: the speaker is not just suffering, he's *trapped by someone else's cruelty*.

The conceit works because Wyatt refuses sentimentality. Instead of a lover pining beautifully, we get a prisoner. The 'lord' who steers is both beloved and tyrant—a loaded phrase in 1540s England, where courtiers genuinely served unpredictable monarchs. The poem's power comes from this ambiguity: is this about romantic love or political servitude? Wyatt doesn't clarify, and that's intentional.

Notice how the metaphor accumulates: oars become thoughts, wind becomes sighs, rain becomes tears. By line 11, the ship itself is made of emotion and error. There's no separation between the speaker's interior life and the external storm—they're the same thing. This is why the final lines hit so hard: when 'reason' drowns, there's literally nothing left to save him.

Why This Sonnet Ends in Absolute Despair

Most Petrarchan sonnets follow a pattern: problem (octave) → resolution or consolation (sestet). Wyatt breaks this. His octave describes the storm; his sestet strips away every possible source of hope. The stars that guide navigation are hidden. Reason, which should comfort, is drowned. He doesn't even reach the port—he's 'despairing of' it, not approaching it.

The final couplet offers no turn, no wit, no consolation. > 'And I remain despairing of the port' is grammatically and emotionally flat. It's not a clever ending; it's an ending that refuses to end well. For a Renaissance reader, this would have felt radical. Wyatt is saying: sometimes there is no resolution, no clever escape, no hope. The shipwreck is total. This bleakness—this refusal of the sonnet's traditional consolatory function—is what makes the poem matter.