Analysis of King Stephen

John Keats 1795 (Moorgate) – 1821 (Rome)



A FRAGMENT OF A TRAGEDY
ACT I.
SCENE I. Field of Battle.
Alarum. Enter King STEPHEN, Knights, and Soldiers.
Stephen. If shame can on a soldier's vein-swoll’n front
Spread deeper crimson than the battle's toil,
Blush in your casing helmets! for see, see!
Yonder my chivalry, my pride of war,
Wrench'd with an iron hand from firm array,
Are routed loose about the plashy meads,
Of honour forfeit. O that my known voice
Could reach your dastard ears, and fright you more!
Fly, cowards, fly! Glocester is at your backs!
Throw your slack bridles o'er the flurried manes,
Ply well the rowel with faint trembling heels,
Scampering to death at last!
First Knight. The enemy
Bears his flaunt standard close upon their rear.
Second Knight. Sure of a bloody prey, seeing the fens
Will swamp them girth-deep.
Stephen. Over head and ears,
No matter! 'Tis a gallant enemy;
How like a comet he goes streaming on.
But we must plague him in the flank, hey, friends?
We are well breathed, follow!
Enter Earl BALDWIN and Soldiers, as defeated.
Stephen. De Redvers!
What is the monstrous bugbear that can fright
Baldwin?
Baldwin. No scare-crow, but the fortunate star
Of boisterous Chester, whose fell truncheon now
Points level to the goal of victory.
This way he comes, and if you would maintain
Your person unaffronted by vile odds,

Take horse, my Lord.
Stephen. And which way spur for life?
Now I thank Heaven I am in the toils,
That soldiers may bear witness how my arm
Can burst the meshes. Not the eagle more
Loves to beat up against a tyrannous blast,
Than I to meet the torrent of my foes.
This is a brag, be 't so, but if I fall,
Carve it upon my 'scutcheon'd sepulchre.
On, fellow soldiers! Earl of Redvers, back!
Not twenty Earls of Chester shall brow-beat
The diadem. [Exeunt. Alarum.

SCENE II. Another part of the Field.
Trumpets sounding a Victory. Enter GLOCESTER. Knights, and Forces.
Glocester. Now may we lift our bruised vizors up,
And take the flattering freshness of the air,
While the wide din of battle dies away
Into times past, yet to be echoed sure
In the silent pages of our chroniclers.
First Knight. Will Stephen's death be marked there, my good
Lord,
Or that we gave him lodging in yon towers?
Glocester. Fain would I know the great usurper's fate.
Enter two Captains severally.
First Captain. My Lord!
Second Captain. Most noble Earl!
First Captain. The King
Second Captain. The Empress greets
Glocester. What of the King?
First Captain. He sole and lone maintains
A hopeless bustle mid our swarming arms,
And with a nimble savageness attacks,
Escapes, makes fiercer onset, then anew
Eludes death, giving death to most that dare
Trespass within the circuit of his sword!
He must by this have fallen. Baldwin is taken;
And for the Duke of Bretagne, like a stag
He flies, for the Welsh beagles to hunt down.
God save the Empress!
Glocester. Now our dreaded Queen:
What message from her Highness?
Second Captain. Royal Maud
From the throng'd towers of Lincoln hath look'd down,
Like Pallas from the walls of Ilion,
And seen her enemies havock'd at her feet.
She greets most noble Glocester from her heart,
Intreating him, his captains, and brave knights,
To grace a banquet. The high city gates
Are envious which shall see your triumph pass;
The streets are full of music.
Enter Second Knight.
Glocester. Whence come you?
Second Knight. From Stephen, my good Prince, Stephen!
Stephen!
Glocester. Why do you make such echoing of his name?
Second Knight. Because I think, my lord, he is no man,
But a fierce demon, Anointed safe from wounds,
And misbaptized with a Christian name.
Glocester. A mighty soldier! Does he still hold out?
Second Knight. He shames our victory. His valour still
Keeps elbow-room amid our eager swords,
And holds our bladed falchions all aloof
His gleaming battle-axe being slaughter-sick,
Smote on the morion of a Flemish knight,
Broke short in his hand; upon the which he flung
The heft away with such a vengeful force,

It paunch'd the Earl of Chester's horse, who then
Spleen-hearted came in full career at him.
Glocester. Did no one take him at a vantage then?
Second Knight. Three then with tiger leap upon him flew,
Whom, with his sword swift-drawn and nimbly held,
He stung away again, and stood to breathe,
Smiling. Anon upon him rush'd once more
A throng of foes, and in this renew'd strife,
My sword met his and snapp'd off at the hilts.
Glocester. Come, lead me to this Mars and let us


Scheme AXXBXXACDXXCEFXGAXBXXAHXXXBIJXXAXX KLXMCGXXCXNM XXXODXBXKBXAKXPXPFXEQOKJXRXXSXRHNXXXXTIQJJUXXUXXXXTIXX VXVQXXCLXS
Poetic Form Etheree  (21%)
Metre 01010100 11 111110 1101101010 101111010111 1101010101 1011010111 1011001111 1111011101 110101011 111011111 111110111 1101101111 1111100101 1101111001 1001111 110100 1111010111 1011101011001 11111 1010101 1101010100 1101011101 1111100111 111110 101100101010 1011 110101111 10 10111101001 11001011101 1101011100 1111011101 1101111 1111 10011111 1111011001 1101110111 1101010101 111101011 1111010111 11011111111 1101111 110101111 1101110111 01011 110101101 1010010010101010 10111110111 01010010101 1011110101 0111111101 001010110100 11110111111 1 11111100110 1011110111 10110100 11011 10101101 11001 10100101 101101 110110101 01010110101 01010101 011101101 0111011111 101010111 111111010110 010111101 1110110111 11010 10110101 1101010 1010101 10110110111 11010111 0101001101 1111010101 11110011 1101001101 11001111101 0111110 10101 10111 10111011110 10 1011111100111 1010111111111 10110010111 0110101 100101011111 1011110100111 1110110101 0110101101 11010110101 110110101 11011010111 0101110101 110111111 1101010111 101111110101 1011111010111 1111110101 1101010111 101011111 0111001011 1111011101 10111111011
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,330
Words 774
Sentences 93
Stanzas 4
Stanza Lengths 34, 12, 54, 10
Lines Amount 110
Letters per line (avg) 31
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 865
Words per stanza (avg) 194
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 10, 2023

3:56 min read
225

John Keats

John Keats was an English Romantic poet. more…

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