Emma-Sofie Söderlund

“Leda and the Swan” by W. B. Yeats – Resisting /Reinforcing a Colonial

Discourse.

Leda and the Swan” by W. B. Yeats paints a striking image of the rape of the mythological

figure Leda, and its dire consequence—the fall of Troy. The poem positions Zeus as a potent

and malevolent force, and Leda as an innocent and helpless victim. The binary opposition

between god and woman, perpetrator and victim, lends itself easily to an interpretation where

Zeus comes to symbolise the potent and hostile metropole, and Leda comes to symbolise the

subjugated colony—in this case Great Britain and Ireland. But read from the perspective of

postcolonial criticism, it becomes evident that although the poem can be seen as highlighting

the atrocities of colonial subjugation, the poem also undermines colonial resistance as it

reinforces a colonial discourse. Building on the Greek myth of the amorous adventures of the

god Zeus, the poem by Yeats portrays the rape of Leda and positions the two focal characters

as binary opposites. Where Leda is described as a girl, Zeus has shifted form into a swan. Hans

Biedermann suggests that Zeus chooses this form because of the white feathers and the purity

they represent. In this innocent shape, according to Biedermann, he can lure Leda close (398).

Although a noble bird often associated with royalty and courage, the swan also symbolises

hypocrisy and damnation as it was believed during the Middle Ages that its flesh was black and

would roast on the fire as the sinful souls would burn in hell according to the Christian tradition

(Biedermann 399). Moreover, although the swan in many cultures symbolises purity and

salvation, in reality it is also a territorial and ferocious animal, as anyone who have ever

encountered an angry swan can testify. With these different connotations in mind, the poem

nevertheless favours an interpretation of the swan as a malevolent beast. This beast’s wings are

“great” and “beating”, and they are capable of delivering “sudden blow[s] (line 1). In

comparison, Leda is neither able to foresee the attack nor is she capable of averting it. She is

struck suddenly and with force and her response is feeble and “helpless” (line 4). “How can

1
 Emma-Sofie Söderlund

those terrified vague fingers push/ The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?” the sonnet

asks (lines 5 and 6). Zeus’ potency is not only revealed by the brute force he exerts and the

masculine power he displays, but also by the implications of this potency. “A shudder in the

loins” heralds an ill-fated pregnancy, which will ultimately result in the destruction of Troy:

“the broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead” (lines 9 – 11). As Leda

staggers, she is dominated, “caught” and raped by Zeus (line 3). In this way, the imagery of his

sexual abuse establishes a link between symbolical and actual rape. Therefore, it is not

farfetched in a colonial context to make the connection between the British Empire as a godlike

powerful entity, and Ireland as its oppressed and helpless victim. Considering the poem as a

literary response to the British subjugation of Ireland, the correlation between perpetrator and

victim, and the power of the Empire are rendered visible. Ania Loomba describes a similar

correlation in the analysis of John Donne’s poem “Love’s progress”:

The colonial contact is not just ‘reflected’ in language or imagery of literary texts,

it is not just a backdrop or ‘context’ against which human dramas are enacted, but

a central aspect of what these texts have to say about identity, relationships and

culture. (84)

Loomba demonstrates how the dominance over the female body relates to a larger colonial

discourse which links imagery of rape with the exploration, penetration and possession of the

colonial subject. More specifically, Loomba explains: “the woman/land analogy” also relates

to “its status as a legitimate object for male possession” (84). The metropole is forceful;

whatever it takes it does so for its own pleasure and benefit. On a whim Zeus can transform

himself to a powerful beast and take possession of the helpless Leda, and whatever grim destiny

this action sets in motion Zeus will wash his hands—“the indifferent beak” not only can but

will “let her drop” (line 15). As an allegory of imperial might, the poem issues a distinct warning

of the dire consequences of colonial expansion. Yeats’ utilisation of the structure of the

2
 Emma-Sofie Söderlund

Petrarchan sonnet underscores this warning. Not only do the varied utilisation of caesura, end-

stop lines and enjambment enhance a sense of fragility and disorientation, but the division of

the octet also serves an important temporal function. The two distinct quatrains significantly

alter the pace with which the reader digests the poem. Where the lines break, the reader

inevitably makes a pause, if ever so slightly. These pauses create a slow motion effect through

which the rapid actions can be scrutinized in detail. Like a silent, drawn out scream, the poem

manages to give the complex effect of exposing the atrocities of colonialism through the

symbolical rape. But as the spacing between lines 8 – 9 renders the volta tangible, the transition

into the sestet heralds a sinister warning: “A shudder in the loins engenders there, the broken

wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead” (lines 9 – 10). This heinous action,

the rape of Leda, will lead to further destruction. Thrown forward in time, the testimonial voice

of the poem, like a sibyl, can already foretell the sinister future, and her prophetic eye envisions

the destruction of a family, a state—a centre of power1. In this way “Leda and the Swan”

functions as an allegory of colonial subjugation. It both highlights the symbolical rape of the

colonial body2 and issues a warning as to the consequences of this transgression. But even

though the poem highlights the unjust power balance between the metropole and the colony, it

also undermines colonial resistance by reiterating and reinforcing a colonial discourse. In

Colonialism/Postcolonialism, Loomba outlines discursive strategies in which the colonial

subject is imagined and portrayed as female and virginal whereas the metropole is described as

male, virile and potent (81 – 89). The male – female opposition is a dominant theme in Yeats’

poem, and so is the colonial connotations linked to them. Although Leda is given some agency

within the framework of the poem (she tries to fend of Zeus’ assault with her fingers, and the

poem asks “Did she put on his knowledge with his power”) her attempts are nonetheless futile

and ineffective. Whether or not she “put[s] on his knowledge” it is still through the grace of his

1
Agamemnon was a powerful Greek prince waging wars on neighboring states.
2
Notice how the word ”body” in the poem lacks an article such as ”the” or ”a” or a possessive ”her”.

3
 Emma-Sofie Söderlund

power, ultimately suggesting that true agency can never be accomplished by the subordinate

colony (lines 5 and 14). Leda is represented here, not as a queen or a woman, but as “a girl”

with “terrified vague fingers”, and with her neck caught by the vicious beak of the aggressive

bird she cannot escape (lines 3 and 5). Loomba explains how these images have functioned

historically: “a wide spectrum of representations encode the rape and plunder of colonised

countries by figuring the latter as naked women and placing colonisers as masters/rapists.” (90)

In this sense, “Leda and the Swan” reinforces an already prevalent discourse used to legitimise

colonial endeavours.

Not only does “Leda and the Swan” contribute to a discourse that legitimises

colonial endeavours, the poem also laments the futility of resistance through a defeatist

imagery. The colonial subject is described as “staggering” and “helpless”; resisting with “vague

fingers” that cannot possibly “push” away her assailant (lines 2 and 4 – 6). Moreover, the poem

relates an idea that any resulting product of this rape must in itself be considered dangerous and

harmful. Consider the original myth of Leda and her encounter with Zeus. In one of its earliest

sources, The Odyssey by Homer, Agamemnon testifies from the realms of Hades to the

atrocities committed by the hand of Clytemnestra, the fruit of Zeus’ rape:

[T]he slut of a murderess [. . .] there is nothing in this world so cruel and so

shameless as a woman when she has fallen into such guilt as hers was [. . .] her

abominable crime has brought disgrace on herself and all women who shall come

after—even on the good ones. (Ch. 11)

Because this myth in particular, and the Greek mythology in general, through literature, art and

history, constitutes an integral part of Western discourse, the poem “Leda and the Swan” should

not be analysed without taking into concern the implications of the myth it refers to. If the

colonial subject can be equated with the raped girl, and the Imperial metropole with the rapist,

the result of their union must be seen as thoroughly destructive. Just as Clytemnestra “and all
4
 Emma-Sofie Söderlund

women who shall come after” are seen as treacherous and dangerous, so must the future of the

colonial subject be regarded as potentially disastrous. Therefore, although “Leda and the Swan”

serves as a critique of the colonial endeavour, a deeper analysis offers a reading that renders

visible the multiple ways in which the poem undermines colonial resistance by reinforcing a

colonial discourse.

5
 Emma-Sofie Söderlund

Works Cited:
Biedermann, Hans. Symbollexikonet. 4th Ed. Stockholm: Forum. 1991. Print.
Loomba, Ania. Colonialism/Postcolonialism. 3rd Ed. New York: Routledge. 2005. Print.
Yeats, William Butler. “Leda and the Swan”. 1923. The Poetry Foundation. Web. 7 March
2016.
Homer. The Odyssey. Trans. Samuel Butler. The Gutenberg Project. Web. 8 March 2016.

6
 Emma-Sofie Söderlund

APPENDIX I
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
(Yeats, 1923)