Analysis of On the Death of Mr. William Hervey
Abraham Cowley 1618 (London) – 1667 (London)
IT was a dismal and a fearful night:
Scarce could the Morn drive on th' unwilling Light,
When Sleep, Death's image, left my troubled breast
By something liker Death possest.
My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow,
And on my soul hung the dull weight
Of some intolerable fate.
What bell was that? Ah me! too much I know!
My sweet companion and my gentle peer,
Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here,
Thy end for ever and my life to moan?
O, thou hast left me all alone!
Thy soul and body, when death's agony
Besieged around thy noble heart,
Did not with more reluctance part
Than I, my dearest Friend, do part from thee.
My dearest Friend, would I had died for thee!
Life and this world henceforth will tedious be:
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do
If once my griefs prove tedious too.
Silent and sad I walk about all day,
As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by
Where their hid treasures lie;
Alas! my treasure 's gone; why do I stay?
Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights,
How oft unwearied have we spent the nights,
Till the Ledaean stars, so famed for love,
Wonder'd at us from above!
We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine;
But search of deep Philosophy,
Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry--
Arts which I loved, for they, my Friend, were thine.
Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say
Have ye not seen us walking every day?
Was there a tree about which did not know
The love betwixt us two?
Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade;
Or your sad branches thicker join
And into darksome shades combine,
Dark as the grave wherein my Friend is laid!
Large was his soul: as large a soul as e'er
Submitted to inform a body here;
High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to have,
But low and humble as his grave.
So high that all the virtues there did come,
As to their chiefest seat
Conspicuous and great;
So low, that for me too it made a room.
Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught
As if for him Knowledge had rather sought;
Nor did more learning ever crowded lie
In such a short mortality.
Whene'er the skilful youth discoursed or writ,
Still did the notions throng
About his eloquent tongue;
Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit.
His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,
Yet never did his God or friends forget;
And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
Retired, and gave to them their due.
For the rich help of books he always took,
Though his own searching mind before
Was so with notions written o'er,
As if wise Nature had made that her book.
With as much zeal, devotion, piety,
He always lived, as other saints do die.
Still with his soul severe account he kept,
Weeping all debts out ere he slept.
Then down in peace and innocence he lay,
Like the Sun's laborious light,
Which still in water sets at night,
Unsullied with his journey of the day.
But happy Thou, ta'en from this frantic age,
Where ignorance and hypocrisy does rage!
A fitter time for Heaven no soul e'er chose--
The place now only free from those.
There 'mong the blest thou dost for ever shine;
And wheresoe'er thou casts thy view
Upon that white and radiant crew,
See'st not a soul clothed with more light than thine.
Scheme | AAXABCCB XDEEFGGF FFHHIJJI KKLLMFFM IIBHNXMN ODXXXXCX XXJFPXXP PXHHQXOQ FJRRIAAI SSTTMHHM |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (24%) |
Metre | 1101000101 110111110101 1111011101 110111 1111111 01111011 11010001 1111111111 1101001101 11111111 1111001111 11111101 1101011100 01011101 11110101 1111011111 1101111111 10111111001 1111010111 111111001 1001110111 11011101 111101 01110111111 1111110101 11111101 10111111 1011101 1111010111 11110100 11000100 1111111101 11110101101 11111101001 1101011111 010111 1111011101 11110101 0011110 1101011111 11111101110 0101010101 110111001011 11010111 1111010111 11111 010001 1111111101 1011010111 1111101101 1111010101 01010100 1011111 110101 0111001 1111110111 111011011001 1101111101 0111010101 01011111 101111111 11110101 111101010 1111011101 1111010100 111110111 1111010111 10111111 1101010011 10101001 11010111 0101110101 11011111101 11000010011 010111011101 01110111 1101111101 011111 011101001 11101111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 3,227 |
Words | 587 |
Sentences | 30 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 30 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 243 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 59 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:59 min read
- 120 Views
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"On the Death of Mr. William Hervey" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/12/on-the-death-of-mr.-william-hervey>.
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