In his critically acclaimed collection North, contemporary Irish poet Seamus Heaney reveals a very personal side of himself and his identity as a 'writer. Although each poem explores its own history and employs its own metaphors, a common thread seems to unravel throughout the collection: the past, particularly that of Ireland. And Heaney's agonizing attempt to recount this past, while perpetuated throughout the book, is particularly lucid in the relationship between the two consecutive poems "North" and "Trial Pieces." By viewing these plays as a consecutive thematic development rather than as two separate entities, Heaney's readers are better able to grasp a fundamental constant in both his work and himself: a sense of obligation to preserve the past and a contradictory fear of distorting or exploiting it. .Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an Original Essay As the namesake of the collection, the poem "North" bears the responsibility of establishing the author's purpose and encompassing the overall mood of the book, which it accomplishes with great success. The poem opens with the words “I came back…”, immediately setting a precedent of memory and a desire to go back. Heaney goes on to describe the current state of his surroundings as "secular" and "non-magical" and contrasting profoundly with those who had once been rich in life and glory ("those fabulous raiders/those who lie in Orkney and Dublin" ). He develops this idea by describing the rust of their swords – the swords embodying those he wishes to preserve and the rust implying their senescence. He pays attention to their “ocean-deafened voices,” and his choice of words here is a particularly striking foreshadowing of his duty to write on behalf of those whose voices have metaphorically foundered. This oceanic metaphor is supported in the next stanza when he describes their ships as "floating in hindsight", thus reinforcing the necessity of memory as something that can literally keep a person or thing afloat. The final three stanzas of the poem take a more personal turn as Heaney reveals what his memories told him. He begins: “He said: “Lie down/in the treasure of words, dig/the spiral and the glow/of your wrinkled brain.” » This term “treasure of words” clearly refers to his own writings; the fact that he considers it a “treasure” indicates that he is perhaps ashamed of it in all its spontaneous, confused, obsessive splendor. But despite any personal shame, Heaney feels moved by these voices to think about the value of language. In the final stanzas, the voice tells him to “compose in the dark,” to “keep [his] eye ​​clear,” and to “trust the feeling of this buried treasure/[his] hands have known.” The shift to the imperative mood is certainly worth noting; here, Heaney does not view his writings as the product of free will but rather as a commandment from the past. The task at hand has now become essential; it is not an easy task, nor even necessarily pleasant, but rather an agonizing and absolutely necessary task. By the end of “North,” Heaney seems to have embraced his goal of preserving the past, relying on written memory to make history a reality. non-magical, magical again. “Trial Pieces” plays on this resolution and expands his struggle with it. The first part opens with Heaney examining an artifact, really any arbitrary bone or fossil, and becoming drawn to its captivating exterior ("...a latticework to evoke / Like the.