Analysis of The Lost Pyx: A Mediaeval Legend
Thomas Hardy 1840 (Stinsford) – 1928 (Dorchester, Dorset)
Some say the spot is banned; that the pillar Cross-and-Hand
Attests to a deed of hell;
But of else than of bale is the mystic tale
That ancient Vale-folk tell.
Ere Cernel's Abbey ceased hereabout there dwelt a priest,
(In later life sub-prior
Of the brotherhood there, whose bones are now bare
In the field that was Cernel choir).
One night in his cell at the foot of yon dell
The priest heard a frequent cry:
"Go, father, in haste to the cot on the waste,
And shrive a man waiting to die."
Said the priest in a shout to the caller without,
"The night howls, the tree-trunks bow;
One may barely by day track so rugged a way,
And can I then do so now?"
No further word from the dark was heard,
And the priest moved never a limb;
And he slept and dreamed; till a Visage seemed
To frown from Heaven at him.
In a sweat he arose; and the storm shrieked shrill,
And smote as in savage joy;
While High-Stoy trees twanged to Bubb-Down Hill,
And Bubb-Down to High-Stoy.
There seemed not a holy thing in hail,
Nor shape of light or love,
From the Abbey north of Blackmore Vale
To the Abbey south thereof.
Yet he plodded thence through the dark immense,
And with many a stumbling stride
Through copse and briar climbed nigh and nigher
To the cot and the sick man's side.
When he would have unslung the Vessels uphung
To his arm in the steep ascent,
He made loud moan: the Pyx was gone
Of the Blessed Sacrament.
Then in dolorous dread he beat his head:
"No earthly prize or pelf
Is the thing I've lost in tempest tossed,
But the Body of Christ Himself!"
He thought of the Visage his dream revealed,
And turned towards whence he came,
Hands groping the ground along foot-track and field,
And head in a heat of shame.
Till here on the hill, betwixt vill and vill,
He noted a clear straight ray
Stretching down from the sky to a spot hard by,
Which shone with the light of day.
And gathered around the illumined ground
Were common beasts and rare,
All kneeling at gaze, and in pause profound
Attent on an object there.
'Twas the Pyx, unharmed 'mid the circling rows
Of Blackmore's hairy throng,
Whereof were oxen, sheep, and does,
And hares from the brakes among;
And badgers grey, and conies keen,
And squirrels of the tree,
And many a member seldom seen
Of Nature's family.
The ireful winds that scoured and swept
Through coppice, clump, and dell,
Within that holy circle slept
Calm as in hermit's cell.
Then the priest bent likewise to the sod
And thanked the Lord of Love,
And Blessed Mary, Mother of God,
And all the saints above.
And turning straight with his priceless freight,
He reached the dying one,
Whose passing sprite had been stayed for the rite
Without which bliss hath none.
And when by grace the priest won place,
And served the Abbey well,
He reared this stone to mark where shone
That midnight miracle.
Scheme | XABA XCDC AEXE XFGF XHXH IJIJ BKBK XLCL MXXX XKXX NONO AGEG PDPD XMXM QRQR SASA TKTK XUXU XAXX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Quatrain (84%) |
Metre | 1101111010101 0110111 11111110101 110111 11101101101 0101110 1010111111 00111110 11011101111 0110101 11001101101 01011011 101001101001 0110111 111011111001 0111111 110110111 00111001 0110110101 1111011 00110100111 0110101 111111111 011111 111010101 111111 101011101 101011 1110110101 011001001 110101101 10100111 111110101 11100101 11110111 101100 10111111 110111 101110101 10101101 1110101101 0101111 11001011101 0100111 1110101101 1100111 10110110111 1110111 0100100101 010101 1101100101 111101 10101101001 11101 1010101 0110101 0101011 010101 010010101 110100 01111001 11101 01110101 11011 10111101 010111 01101011 010101 010111101 110101 1101111101 011111 01110111 010101 11111111 11100 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,929 |
Words | 524 |
Sentences | 19 |
Stanzas | 19 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 76 |
Letters per line (avg) | 29 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 115 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 27 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:38 min read
- 146 Views
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"The Lost Pyx: A Mediaeval Legend" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/36525/the-lost-pyx%3A-a-mediaeval-legend>.
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