Analysis of Forest History

George Meredith 1828 (Portsmouth, Hampshire) – 1909 (Box Hill, Surrey)



Beneath the vans of doom did men pass in.
Heroic who came out; for round them hung
A wavering phantom's red volcano tongue,
With league-long lizard tail and fishy fin:

Old Earth's original Dragon; there retired
To his last fastness; overthrown by few.
Him a laborious thrust of roadway slew.
Then man to play devorant straight was fired.

More intimate became the forest fear
While pillared darkness hatched malicious life
At either elbow, wolf or gnome or knife
And wary slid the glance from ear to ear.

In chillness, like a clouded lantern-ray,
The forest's heart of fog on mossed morass,
On purple pool and silky cotton-grass,
Revealed where lured the swallower byway.

Dead outlook, flattened back with hard rebound
Off walls of distance, left each mounted height.
It seemed a giant hag-fiend, churning spite
Of humble human being, held the ground.

Through friendless wastes, through treacherous woodland, slow
The feet sustained by track of feet pursued
Pained steps, and found the common brotherhood
By sign of Heaven indifferent, Nature foe.

Anon a mason's work amazed the sight,
And long-frocked men, called Brothers, there abode.
They pointed up, bowed head, and dug and sowed;
Whereof was shelter, loaf, and warm firelight.

What words they taught were nails to scratch the head.
Benignant works explained the chanting brood.
Their monastery lit black solitude,
As one might think a star that heavenward led.

Uprose a fairer nest for weary feet,
Like some gold flower nightly inward curled,
Where gentle maidens fled a roaring world,
Or played with it, and had their white retreat.

Into big books of metal clasps they pored.
They governed, even as men; they welcomed lays.
The treasures women are whose aim is praise,
Was shown in them: the Garden half restored.

A deluge billow scoured the land off seas,
With widened jaws, and slaughter was its foam.
For food, for clothing, ambush, refuge, home,
The lesser savage offered bogs and trees.

Whence reverence round grey-haired story grew:
And inmost spots of ancient horror shone
As temples under beams of trials bygone;
For in them sang brave times with God in view.

Till now trim homesteads bordered spaces green,
Like night's first little stars through clearing showers.
Was rumoured how a castle's falcon towers
The wilderness commanded with fierce mien.

Therein a serious Baron stuck his lance;
For minstrel songs a beauteous Dame would pout.
Gay knights and sombre, felon or devout,
Pricked onward, bound for their unsung romance.

It might be that two errant lords across
The block of each came edged, and at sharp cry
They charged forthwith, the better man to try.
One rode his way, one couched on quiet moss.

Perchance a lady sweet, whose lord lay slain,
The robbers into gruesome durance drew.
Swift should her hero come, like lightning's blue!
She prayed for him, as crackling drought for rain.

As we, that ere the worst her hero haps,
Of Angels guided, nigh that loathly den:
A toady cave beside an ague fen,
Where long forlorn the lone dog whines and yaps.

By daylight now the forest fear could read
Itself, and at new wonders chuckling went.
Straight for the roebuck's neck the bowman spent
A dart that laughed at distance and at speed.

Right loud the bugle's hallali elate
Rang forth of merry dingles round the tors;
And deftest hand was he from foreign wars,
But soon he hailed the home-bred yeoman mate.

Before the blackbird pecked the turf they woke;
At dawn the deer's wet nostrils blew their last.
To forest, haunt of runs and prime repast,
With paying blows, the yokel strained his yoke.

The city urchin mooned on forest air,
On grassy sweeps and flying arrows, thick
As swallows o'er smooth streams, and sighed him sick
For thinking that his dearer home was there.

Familiar, still unseized, the forest sprang
An old-world echo, like no mortal thing.
The hunter's horn might wind a jocund ring,
But held in ear it had a chilly clang.

Some shadow lurked aloof of ancient time;
Some warning haunted any sound prolonged,
As though the leagues of woodland held them wronged
To h


Scheme ABBA CDDX XEEX FGGF HIIH JKXJ IXXC LKKL MNNM OPPO QRRQ DXXD STTS UVVU WXXW YDDY GZZX L1 1 X 2 GX2 3 XC3 4 5 5 4 6 7 7 6 X8 8 X
Poetic Form Quatrain  (70%)
Metre 0101111110 0101111111 0100110101 1111010101 11010010101 111100111 1001001111 111111110 1100010101 1101010101 110111111 0101011111 011010101 0101111101 1101010101 0111011 111011101 1111011101 1101011101 1101010101 111110011 0101111101 110101010 11110010101 101010101 0111110101 1101110101 11101011 1111011101 11010101 11001110 111101111 101011101 1111010101 1101010101 1111011101 0111110111 11010111101 0101011111 1101010101 01010100111 1101010111 111101101 0101010101 1100111101 011110101 1101011101 1011111101 111110101 11110111010 1110101010 0100010111 01010010111 110101111 110110101 1101110101 1111110101 0111110111 1111010111 1111111101 0101011111 010011011 110101111 1111110111 1111010101 110101111 01101111 1101011101 111010111 0101110101 110110101 0111110011 1101101 111101101 011111101 1111011101 0101010111 1101110111 110111011 1101010111 0101011101 1101010101 11010110111 1101110111 010110101 1111011101 010111011 1101110101 111011101 1101010101 110111111 11
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,046
Words 711
Sentences 63
Stanzas 23
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 92
Letters per line (avg) 35
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 140
Words per stanza (avg) 30
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:37 min read
52

George Meredith

George Meredith was an English novelist and poet of the Victorian era. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature seven times. more…

All George Meredith poems | George Meredith Books

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