Analysis of The Legend of St. Mark
John Greenleaf Whittier 1807 (Haverhill) – 1892 (Hampton Falls)
The day is closing dark and cold,
With roaring blast and sleety showers;
And through the dusk the lilacs wear
The bloom of snow, instead of flowers.
I turn me from the gloom without,
To ponder o'er a tale of old;
A legend of the age of Faith,
By dreaming monk or abbess told.
On Tintoretto's canvas lives
That fancy of a loving heart,
In graceful lines and shapes of power,
And hues immortal as his art.
In Provence (so the story runs)
There lived a lord, to whom, as slave,
A peasant-boy of tender years
The chance of trade or conquest gave.
Forth-looking from the castle tower,
Beyond the hills with almonds dark,
The straining eye could scarce discern
The chapel of the good St. Mark.
And there, when bitter word or fare
The service of the youth repaid,
By stealth, before that holy shrine,
For grace to bear his wrong, he prayed.
The steed stamped at the castle gate,
The boar-hunt sounded on the hill;
Why stayed the Baron from the chase,
With looks so stern, and words so ill?
'Go, bind yon slave! and let him learn,
By scath of fire and strain of cord,
How ill they speed who give dead saints
The homage due their living lord!'
They bound him on the fearful rack,
When, through the dungeon's vaulted dark,
He saw the light of shining robes,
And knew the face of good St. Mark.
Then sank the iron rack apart,
The cords released their cruel clasp,
The pincers, with their teeth of fire,
Fell broken from the torturer's grasp.
And lo! before the Youth and Saint,
Barred door and wall of stone gave way;
And up from bondage and the night
They passed to freedom and the day!
O dreaming monk! thy tale is true;
O painter! true thy pencil's art;
in tones of hope and prophecy,
Ye whisper to my listening heart!
Unheard no burdened heart's appeal
Moans up to God's inclining ear;
Unheeded by his tender eye,
Falls to the earth no sufferer's tear.
For still the Lord alone is God
The pomp and power of tyrant man
Are scattered at his lightest breath,
Like chaff before the winnower's fan.
Not always shall the slave uplift
His heavy hands to Heaven in vain.
God's angel, like the good St. Mark,
Comes shining down to break his chain!
O weary ones! ye may not see
Your helpers in their downward flight;
Nor hear the sound of silver wings
Slow beating through the hush of night!
But not the less gray Dothan shone,
With sunbright watchers bending low,
That Fear's dim eye beheld alone
The spear-heads of the Syrian foe.
There are, who, like the Seer of old,
Can see the helpers God has sent,
And how life's rugged mountain-side
Is white with many an angel tent!
They hear the heralds whom our Lord
Sends down his pathway to prepare;
And light, from others hidden, shines
On their high place of faith and prayer.
Let such, for earth's despairing ones,
Hopeless, yet longing to be free,
Breathe once again the Prophet's prayer
'Lord, ope their eyes, that they may see!'
Scheme | ABCB XAXA XDED FGXG EHIH CJXJ XKXK ILXL XHXH DMEM XNON XDPD XXXC XQXQ XRHR POXO STST AUXU LCXC FPCP |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Quatrain (95%) Etheree (30%) Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 01110101 11010110 0101011 011101110 11110101 110100111 01010111 1101111 11101 11010101 010101110 01010111 01010101 11011111 01011101 01111101 110101010 01011101 01011101 01010111 01110111 01010101 11011101 11111111 01110101 01110101 11010101 11110111 11110111 111100111 11111111 01011101 11110101 1101101 11011101 01011111 11010101 01011101 010111110 1101011 01010101 11011111 01110001 11110001 11011111 1101111 01110100 110111001 01110101 111111 01011101 1101111 11010111 010101101 11011101 1101011 1110110 110111001 11010111 11011111 11011111 11001101 11011101 11010111 11011101 1110101 1111101 011101001 11110111 11010111 01110101 111101101 110101101 1111101 01110101 11111101 11110101 10110111 1101011 11111111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,792 |
Words | 530 |
Sentences | 30 |
Stanzas | 20 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 111 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 26 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on May 01, 2023
- 2:42 min read
- 164 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Legend of St. Mark" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23133/the-legend-of-st.-mark>.
Discuss this John Greenleaf Whittier poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In