Analysis of The Massacre of the Bards
Mary Hannay Foott 1846 (Glasgow) – 1918 (Bundaberg)
The sunlight from the sky is swept,
But, over Snowdon's summit kept,
One brand of cloud yet burns,
By ghostly hands far out of sight,
Held, glowing, in the even-light,
As Fate still keeps the weapon bright
That lingers and returns.
- - - - - -
O day of slaughter! Day of woe!
But once, a thousand years ago,
Such day has Britain seen;
When blushed her hoary hills with shame
At Mona's sacrifice of flame;
While shrieks from out the burning came
Across the strait between.
Death-helping day! That couldst not find
One weeping cloud to hide behind!
Cursed day whose light was given
For search-mate to the Saxon sword
Through coverts that our rocks afford,
While Edward's godless minions poured
The blood of the unshriven!
- - - - - -
Ill fare we when the trees are rent,
Whose friendly shelter erst was lent
In sun, and wind, and rain.
Ill fare we when the thunder-shocks
Let loose the torrents from their rocks,
To sweep away the mountain-flocks,
And flood the standing grain.
But where the forest-giants groan,
By winds that waste the woods o'erthrown,
New saplings blithely spring!
Sank herd and harvest 'neath the tide?
There's bleating on the mountain-side;
O'er cornfields, ere the dew has dried
To-morrow's lark shall sing!
Sore sighs the land when she has need
The dragon-jaws of war to feed
With those who love her best;
And long shall Cambria's tears be shed
For him who late her armies led,
Llewellyn, whose dissevered head
The Saxon crowned in jest!
Yet, in their stead whose blood is spilt,
Newcomers seize the sword's warm hilt,
Or o'er it reach the ground!
Llewellyn! every night-watch drear
With grief for thee, brings morning near;
That morn when Arthur shall appear,
Once more our leader crowned!
But when the blood of bards is poured,
Who gathers their forgotten hoard
From memories sealed by fate?
What daring songster e'er shall soar
For us to Heaven's death-guarded door,
And tell thereafter of the store
That glimmers through the grate?
When Famine's empty hand is filled,
When years the shattered oaks rebuild,
Shall heroes spring again,
Brave spirits of the past to greet
Who rise at minstrel-summons sweet,
When bards the olden tales repeat
Of Britain's mighty slain?
Nay, by the harps our fathers heard
No more shall Britain's heart be stirred,
Lost is the ancient lore!
Spent is the breath of song, that fanned
Freedom's low fires! The bard's light hand,
Whose beckoning brought the martial band,
Shall seek the strings no more!
Scheme | AABCCCB DDEFFFE GGXHHHE IIJKKKJ XELMMML NNOPPPO QQRSSSR HHTSSST UUXVVVJ WWSXXXS |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Burns stanza (69%) |
Metre | 0110111 1101101 111111 11011111 11000101 11110101 110001 1 11110111 11010101 111101 11010111 1101011 11110101 010101 11011111 11011101 1111110 11110101 11110101 11010101 01101 1 11110111 11010111 010101 11110101 11010111 11010101 010101 11010101 1111011 110101 11010101 1110101 101110111 11111 11011111 01011111 111101 0111111 11110101 10111 010101 10111111 1010111 1101101 10100111 11111101 11110101 1110101 11011111 11010101 1100111 11011011 111101101 01010101 110101 1110111 11010101 110101 11010111 11110101 11010101 110101 110110101 11110111 110101 11011111 101100111 110010101 110111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,391 |
Words | 428 |
Sentences | 23 |
Stanzas | 12 |
Stanza Lengths | 7, 1, 7, 7, 1, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7 |
Lines Amount | 72 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 160 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 36 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:13 min read
- 76 Views
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"The Massacre of the Bards" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/26910/the-massacre-of-the-bards>.
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