you don't find the term "dross" used much, but if I remember correctly, it appears in Ernest Fenollosa's "Epochs" and in a letter wherein he was explaining the effect, I think, of either Kuonon, Chinese goddess of mercy, or of Tendai Buddhism. Since I have not seen that letter, then it must have been mentioned in one of the bios on Pound, or in Qian's Orientalism in Pound and Williams. That would be the first place to check. Several of Pound's tag phrases come from Fenollosa--the lines thicker in times of usura, for example. I cannot think of any others, having still a couple minutes before my coffee pot stops brewing.
Robert E Kibler, PhD
English and Humanities
Valley City State University
[log in to unmask]
"Pay no attention to names. Investigate
into the reasons things are as they are."
Chu Hsi, The Great Synthesis, 3:27b
>>> Everett Lee Lady <[log in to unmask]> 03/07 5:23 AM >>>
>From: Maria Anna Calamia <[log in to unmask]>
>Subject: Pound and Cavalcanti
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Date: Mon, 6 Mar 2000 21:18:52 -1000
>What thou lovest well remains,
> the rest is dross
>What thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
>What thou lov'st well is thy true heritage
>Whose world, or mine or theirs
> or is it of none?
>Someone told me that the line "What thou lovest well remains,
> the rest is dross"
>comes from a Cavalcanti poem. Does anyone know which one or where I can find
The most famous of all the Cavalcanti songs (at least as far as
we Poundites are concerned): the Canzone "Donna Mi Priegha."
See THE TRANSLATIONS OF E.P. (New Directions edition), top of p. 134.
Also translated as part of the Cantos, Canto XXXVI.
"Where memory liveth,
it takes its state
Formed like a diafan from light on shade
Which shadow cometh of Mars and remaineth
Created, having a name sensate,
Custom of the soul,
will from the heart;
Beneath T.S. Eliot's bland exterior glows the unwavering conviction that
the poet, in morning coat or drinking tea, possesses chiefly a more
honest mind than most minds, yielding him at the end of rigorous ardors an
intuition of which one aspect, as it was for Conrad's Kurtz, is horror.
And the poet walks through the streets of London or Boston bearing this
intermittent knowledge. --- Hugh Kenner, THE INVISIBLE POET: T. S. ELIOT.