Analysis of The Dirge of Wallace
Thomas Campbell 1777 (Glasgow) – 1844 (Boulogne-sur-Mer)
When Scotland's great Regent, our warrior most dear,
The debt of his nature did pay,
T' was Edward, the cruel, had reason to fear,
And cause to be struck with dismay.
At the window of Edward the raven did croak,
Though Scotland a widow became;
Each tie of true honor to Wallace he broke-
The raven croaked "Sorrow and shame!"
At Eldersie Castle no raven was heard,
But soothings of honor and truth;
His spirit inspired the soul of the bard
To comfort the Love of his youth!
They lighted the tapers at dead of night,
And chanted their holiest hymn;
But her brow and her bosom were all damp with affright,
Her eye was all sleepless and dim!
And the lady of Eldersie wept for her lord,
With a death-watch beat in her lonely room,
When her curtain shook of its own accord,
And the raven flapped at her window board
To tell of her warrior's doom.
Now sing ye the death-song, and loudly pray
For the soul of my knight so dear!
And call me a widow, this wretched day,
Since the warning of God is here.
For a nightmare rests on my strangled sleep;
The lord of my bosom is doomed to die!
His valorous heart they have wounded deep,
And the blood-red tears his country shall weep
For Wallace of Elderslie.
Yet knew not his country, that ominous hour,
Ere the loud matin-bell was rung,
That the trumpet of death on an English tower,
The dirge of her champion sung.
When his dungeon light looked dim and red
On the high-born blood of a martyr slain,
No anthem was sung at his lowly death-bed,-
No weeping was there when his bosom bled,
And his heart was rent in twain.
When he strode o'er the wreck of each well-fought field,
With the yellow-haired chiefs of his native land;
For his lace was not shivered on helmet or shield,
And the sword that was fit for archangel to wield
Was light in his terrible hand.
Yet, bleeding and bound, though the "Wallacewight"
For his long-loved country die,,
The bugle ne'er sung to a braver night
Than William of Elderslie.
But the day of his triumphs shall never depart;
His head, unemtombed, shall with glory be palmed:
From its blood streaming altar his spirit shall start;
Though the raven has fed on his mouldering heart,
A nobler was never embalmed!
Scheme | ABAB CDCD EFXF GHEH IJIIJ BABX KLKKM NONO PQPPQ RSRRS ELGM TETTX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101101010011 01111011 111001011011 01111101 101011001011 11001001 11111011011 01011001 111011011 1111001 11001001101 11001111 1100101111 01011001 101001001111 01111001 0010111101 1011100101 1010111101 0010110101 111011 1110110101 10111111 0110101101 10101111 101111101 0111101111 11111101 0011111011 11011 111110110010 1011111 101011111010 01101001 111011101 1011110101 11011111011 1101111101 0111101 111100111111 10101111101 111111011011 00111111011 11011001 11001101 1111101 0101110101 11011 101111011001 111111011 111101011011 1010111111 01011001 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,257 |
Words | 405 |
Sentences | 15 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 4, 5, 4, 5, 5, 4, 5 |
Lines Amount | 53 |
Letters per line (avg) | 32 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 142 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 33 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 30, 2023
- 2:02 min read
- 36 Views
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"The Dirge of Wallace" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/36124/the-dirge-of-wallace>.
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