Analysis of Io Triumphe
Letitia Elizabeth Landon 1802 (Chelsea) – 1838 (Cape Coast)
Heavy had been the march that day,
For long and sultry was the way ;
More weary far than if it lay
To be cut through armed foes:
The pennon drooped upon the air,
As if it had no business there,
With nothing rival near to dare,
And nothing to oppose.
'Twas pleasant when the darkening west
Called the worn soldier to his rest,
Upon the green earth's mother breast,
To dream of hearth and home :
On many a rough cheek the soft smile,
With an unconscious tear the while,
Told how the visions could beguile
That on such slumbers come.
But morning came — and with it came
Tidings that lit the brow to flame ;
Forgot the night-dream's gentler claim —
The weary march forgot :
Hark to the clarion ringing clear !
Hark to the trumpet's voice of cheer !
And, like an omen on the ear,
The distant cannon-shot !
There rode the eagles on the wind, —
The hills are with the white ranks lined,
And thousands gather dark behind,
Like a storm on the sea :
And face them — England's gallant bands,
Their fearful welcome in their hands,
In whizzing balls and flashing brands—
Death, is this all for thee ?
One moment, 'tis a gallant sight —
Float the rich banners from the height,
And helm and cuirass blaze in light
From the young day-break's beam:
Beneath the curb proud coursers prance,
Like summer clouds the white plumes dance,
And the red flags from the bright lance
Like sudden meteors gleam.
One moment — and all sight is vain, —
Reddens the sky with fiery rain, —
Closes the smoke-cloud round the plain—
Fit cloak for Death to throw :
As mid the Alpines thunders sweep,
Waking the mountains from their sleep—
So comes the tumult, stern and deep,
From the dread strife below.
— 'Tis moonlight on the quiet field
Where sabre flashed and musket pealed ;
Where was the fate of thousands sealed,
'Tis calm as a child's rest :
But ill suits earth with such a sky —
One with its soft, sweet stars on high,
While dead and dying thousands lie
Upon the other's breast.
And there they lie — the true, the brave,
The morning's pride, like a spent wave ;
And has not Glory even a grave,
For those who for her died ?
No ; there they lie — the young, the old,
The steel cap by the helm of gold,
The steed upon its rider rolled,
Friend and foe, side by side.
Enough of this — across the sea,
To know what triumph there may be
Where Glory joins Festivity,
Rejoicing in its fame :
There's feasting spread in gorgeous halls,
The lamps flash round the city walls,
And many a flood of lustre falls
O'er many an honoured name.
Turn thou from this, and enter where
Some mother weeps o'er her despair,
Some desolate bride rends her rich hair,
Some orphan joins the cry !
Then back again to the death plain,
Where lie those whom they weep in vain,
And ask, in gazing on the slain,
What art thou, Victory ?
Scheme | AAABCCCB DDDXEEEX FFFGHHXG IIIJKKKJ LLLMNNNM OOOPQQQP RARDSSSD TTTUVVVU JJJFWWWF CCCSOOOJ |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (35%) Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 10110111 11010101 11011111 111111 0110101 11111101 11010111 010101 110101001 10110111 01011101 111101 110011011 1110101 11010101 11111 11010111 10110111 01011101 010101 110100101 1101111 01110101 010101 11010101 01110111 01010101 101101 01110101 11010011 01010101 111111 11010101 10110101 0101101 101111 0101111 11010111 00111011 1101001 11001111 10111001 10011101 111111 1101101 10010111 11010101 101101 1110101 11010101 11011101 111011 11111101 11111111 11010101 010101 01110101 01011011 011101001 111101 11110101 01110111 01011101 101111 01110101 11110111 11010100 010011 11010101 01110101 010011101 1010111 11110101 110110001 110011011 110101 11011011 11111101 01010101 111100 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,878 |
Words | 512 |
Sentences | 14 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 213 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 53 |
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"Io Triumphe" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/44952/io-triumphe>.
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