The Problem With The Bard

Ah the Bard the Bard the Bard. I read his sonnets a while ago, and have to say there's something very unsatisfying about them. Faithful followers are probably going to look daggers at me and screech "How dare you besmirch his hallowed name"etc.etc. Anyway...

Shakespearean sonnets are all very well, but there is something about them that irritates me: they start out magnificent, full of the spark that gives the Bard his reputation, but end fairly low-key. Consider this timeless example:

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate

Typical Shakespeare, packing punches into the first couple of lines. Then take another sonnet, in this case my favourite one (and one of the few things I actually like about Shelley):

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone...

Which fades in comparison as expected. Six lines along, we get the third quatrain, which by definition should be where the volta lies. The Bard takes a stab at an epic one:

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

And misses by mere inches. Whereas the other fellow comes up with:

And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Okay I admit the latter has its volta at the last couplet. But Ozymandias leaves a burning impression of greatness, vanity and passing of ages...few Shakespearean sonnets have endings this powerful. This Chinese saying sums it all up: "Spurred on by first drumroll, tired by second, exhausted by third." (Yiguzuoqi, zai er shuai, san er jie.)

And that is all I have against the Bard.