The Legend of Monte della Sibilla; or, Le paradis de la reine Sibille — A Reader’s Guide

A Knight, a Squire, and a Skeptical Narrator

The poem's protagonist, Hans Van Branbourg, is introduced as a stubborn German who 'swore that if anyone could do't / He, Hans Van Branbourg, was the man.' He is accompanied by a single squire named Pons, whom the narrator hopes is an Englishman because he can pronounce him 'brave as brave can be, / Yet sensible as Sancho Panza.' This comparison to Cervantes' character signals the poem's comic, picaresque tone.

The locals try to dissuade the knight, telling tales of a monk who lost his wits and five bold youths who 'quaked like jelly' after seeing a gate that 'kept on clipping, clipping.' The narrator adds his own commentary, noting that the youths 'had seen things to make saints curse.' The warnings are delivered in a mix of folk superstition and earthy humor, with the coarser locals suggesting that inside the cave 'you'd find a brothel.'

Bell's narrator remains detached, occasionally questioning the sources: 'Or was that later?' This uncertainty keeps the reader aware that the tale is being filtered through a fallible, modern consciousness.

The Journey and the Cave's Wonders

Hans and Pons push on, ignoring the wind, noises, and whispering voices. They pass 'gates of bronze' and then 'gates of crystal,' where they tap. The poem's descriptive passages are brief and suggestive rather than elaborate. The narrator's voice continues to intrude, as when he remarks that the signs that once warned travelers now 'did duty for a "numero."'

The excerpt breaks off before the pair enters the cave, but the poem's title and framing promise an encounter with the Sybil's paradise. Bell draws on medieval legends of Monte della Sibilla, a mountain in the Apennines associated with a Sibyl who presides over a paradisal realm. The poem's subtitle, 'Le paradis de la reine Sibille,' signals this connection.

The journey itself is treated with a mixture of adventure and absurdity. The narrator's tone suggests that the real interest lies not in the destination but in the telling—the digressions, the footnotes, and the playful rhymes that undercut any epic pretensions.

Digressions, Footnotes, and Self-Conscious Verse

Bell's poem is notable for its frequent digressions and footnotes, which comment on the narrative and the act of writing. In the closing stanzas, the narrator addresses the reader directly, defending his approach: 'Myself, I never thought it clever / To fuss about the "grand forever."' He praises the knight's choice to 'live for love, though love is hell.'

The footnotes are particularly revealing. One calls for the legalization of 'the cockney rhyme,' another admits the verse is 'Sybilline' and 'portentously ill writ.' A third cites sources: 'Both Sale and Andrea Baberino say...' and references a book called 'La Salade' from which 'I draw the matter of my ballad.' These scholarly asides are delivered with a wink, blending erudition with self-deprecation.

This self-consciousness is central to the poem's effect. Bell is not simply retelling a legend; he is performing a kind of literary criticism in verse, questioning the value of heroic quests and the purpose of poetry itself.

Moral Ambiguity and the Question of Meaning

The poem's final stanzas explicitly address the moral of the story. The narrator acknowledges that 'wise men may differ' on whether there is more to life than laughter and hedonism. He sides with the knight's choice to pursue love, even if it leads to suffering. This conclusion is deliberately ambiguous, refusing to endorse either conventional piety or simple pleasure.

The poem's structure reinforces this ambiguity. The narrative frame—a modern poet retelling an old tale—allows Bell to distance himself from the material while still engaging with its themes. The irregular meter and playful rhymes prevent any single interpretation from dominating.

Readers should attend to the tension between the narrator's skepticism and his evident fascination with the legend. The poem does not resolve this tension; instead, it invites the reader to enjoy the journey of the verse itself, with all its quirks and contradictions.

Bell's poem rewards attention to its formal playfulness and its layered references. The footnotes and asides are not mere decoration; they are integral to the work's meaning. Readers familiar with the medieval sources may catch allusions to Antoine de la Sale's 'La Salade' and other texts, but the poem stands on its own as a witty meditation on storytelling. Approach it as you would a conversation with a learned, irreverent friend—one who is as interested in the telling as in the tale.

There’s something about Hans wandering toward the Sybil’s cave that feels less like adventure and more like a quiet descent inward—the same way I drift through Dante’s third canto, where hesitation hangs in every step. Bell’s skeptical footnotes almost guard that medieval awe. The Divine Comedy, Cary's Translation, Complete — Themes and Context holds that same vulnerable pause before the dark, disguised as a map.