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The Herald Scotland

Late Edwin Morgan urged MSPs to make Scotland great again. Oh well ...

How time flies. It first took wing for Edwin on 27 April 1920 when he was born in the West End of Glasgow, the only child of middle-class, respectable Madge and Stanley, the latter being first clerk then director in a small firm of iron and steel merchants. Stanley and Madge financed their son's membership of several city book clubs, through which he discovered The Faber Book of Modern Verse, a 'revelation' to him. After attending the city's high school, Edwin went to Glasgow Yoonie in 1937, formally studying French and Russian, while self-educating in Italian and German. Called up in 1940, he dismayed his parents by declaring himself a conscientious objector, as distinct from a lackadaisical one, but reached a moral compromise by becoming a non-combatant in the Royal Army Medical Corps. After returning from service in Egypt, Lebanon and Palestine, he graduated with a first in English Literature in 1947 and became a lecturer at the university, where he worked until retirement as a professor in 1980. A first slim version of verse, The Vision of Cathkin Braes and Other Poems, was published in Glasgow by William MacLellan in 1952. That year, his Beowulf: A Verse Translation into Modern English was also published. LORD OF LINGO TEACHING at yoonie, Morgan quickly established a reputation as a translator (into Scots and English) of verse, with a special interest in Russian. He could also manage Latin, Spanish, Portugese, German, French, Italian and, er, Hungarian. His Collected Translations, published in 1996, runs to nearly 500 pages. In 1962, he moved out of the parental home to his own flat in Anniesland. That year, he wrote 'The Death of Marilyn Monroe', which later appeared in The Second Life collection, which came out to acclaim in 1968 and won the Cholmondeley Award for Poetry. Second Life also included 'King Billy', about violent sectarian nutter Fullerton of that ilk, 'The Computer's First Christmas Card' – prescient or what? – 'In the Snack Bar', about a helpless pensioner standing 'in his stained beltless gaberdine like a monstrous animal caught in a tent', the sci-fi themed 'In Sobieski's Shield', and the romantic 'Strawberries' ('There were never strawberries/like the ones we had/that sultry afternoon'). The years 1972 and 1973 saw publication of his Glasgow Sonnets, with a famous line about a 'shilpit dog' exemplifying Morgan's belief in the impacts of a single Scots word; Wi the Haill Voice contained his translations of 25 poems by Vladimir Mayakovsky into Scots; From Glasgow to Saturn featured 'The First Men on Mercury', in which a space-explorer encounters feisty Mercurians (possibly of Glaswegian origin; this is their tongue – 'Bawr stretter! Bawr. Bawr. Stetterhawl?'). Angus Calder described the poem as 'a profound statement about language, class and colonialism'. Morgan's range was wide. He was subtle, funny, serious, sci-fi, traditional, experimental, scholarly, playful. He loved the sound and rhythm of words, and showed himself to be a Glasgow hard man by experimenting with concrete poetry. Among so many notable poems, 'Glasgow 5 March 1971' concerned a couple pushed through a shop window on Sauchiehall Street, while 'A Good Year for Death' featured five famous folk from popular culture who died in 1977. EMPIRE STRIKES BACK EARLY retirement from Glasgow University in 1980 allowed him more time for readings, at which he was clear and witty. In 1982, he was promoted to the rank of officer in the British Empire, at that time still a force for good. He was also involved in theatre, translating Edmond Rostand's Cyrano into Scots for the Communicado company at the 1992 Edinburgh Festival. His version of Racine's Phèdre played at Edinburgh's Royal Lyceum in 2000, and an original play, AD, on the life of yon Christ, followed in Glasgow the same year. Happily, it was denounced by various clergy. At the opening of the new Scottish Parliament building in 2004, Liz Lochhead – later Morgan's successor as Makar – read a poem written by him for the occasion, in which he advised: 'Don't let your work and hope be other than great.' MSPs: 'Oh dear, do we have to?' Edwin was private, sometimes a synonym for lonely, and was by some considered socially awkward, as all decent people are. Seamus Heaney described his 'unpretentiousness and shyness'. Reportedly, though friendly, he didn't mix much with his contemporaries. He didn't drink much either, which was a shame, and liked to be home in Anniesland in good time for bed. He reached a new audience after collaborating with Scottish band Idlewild and, in 2007, contributed two pieces to the compilation Ballads of the Book, where writers created poems to be made into songs. In later life, Morgan was cared for at a residential home. In April 2010, he published a collection called Dreams and Other Nightmares to mark his 90th birthday. On 19 August 2010, he died of pneumonia in Glasgow. The death was announced by The Scottish Poetry Library. Its director, Robyn Marsack, paid tribute to 'the brightest star in our sky'. READ MORE: Robert McNeil: I detest yon Romans but I dig excavating their wee fortlets RAB MCNEIL'S SCOTTISH ICONS: John Knox – the fiery preacher whose pal got burnt at the stake (Image: PA) ECK OF A GUY FIRST Minister Eck Salmond proclaimed Edwin Morgan a 'great man, an exceptional poet and an inspiration', while UK Poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy called him a 'great, generous, gentle genius'. In his will he left almost £1 million to the Scottish National Party, another £1m for the creation of an annual award scheme for young poets, and £45,000 to friends, former colleagues and charity organisations. The bulk of his wealth had been held in stocks and shares with a Glasgow-based stockbroker. It was not money that bought him happiness, though. Glasgow did that. The city was his lover, friend and cultural inspiration. In his own words: 'I was born in Glasgow and have lived most of my life there, and whatever image the city has to the outside world, to me it underlies and pervades my feeling at a deep level of identification and sympathy.'