Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best:
And save his good broad-sword he weapon had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone;
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar! 6
He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Esk river where ford there was none—
But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 12
So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,
’Mong bride’s-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all:
Then spoke the bride’s father, his hand on his sword—
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word—
“O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war?
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?” 18
“I long wooed your daughter, my suit was denied;
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To tread but one measure, drink one cup of wine!
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” 24
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup!
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar—
“Now tread we a measure!” said young Lochinvar. 30
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace!
While her mother did fret and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bride-maidens whispered, “’Twere better by far,
To have matched our fair cousin to young Lochinvar!” 36
One touch to her hand, and one word to her ear,
When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near.
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
“She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They’ll have fleet steeds that follow!” quoth young Lochinvar. 42
There was mounting ’mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see!
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar! 48
We observe, in the first place, that the rhythm is very pronounced. It reminds us of the rhythm of The Ride from Ghent, and suggests, in fact, what we soon discover to be true, that the two poems are in spirit very closely allied.
l. 2-6 are intended to win our sympathy for the hero. Observe his courage in riding unarmed and alone.
l. 10.—The accent on gallant is on the final syllable. Observe how the emphasis on -lant, came, and late retards the movement and suggests the contrast between Lochinvar’s hope and his failure to arrive in time.
l. 11.—Note the contempt in laggard and dastard. Also in line 16, where the movement is again retarded.
l. 19-24.—How cleverly Lochinvar conceals his true intention, under the guise of indifference!
l. 20.—Love swells like ocean tides, but diminishes with equal rapidity: I can get along without your daughter.
l. 32.—Galliard: a lively dance.
l. 33-34.—Bring out the pictures clearly. Do not slur.
l. 37.—Accelerate the movement, but not with a manufactured speed. Catch the spirit of haste and the movement will accelerate itself.
l. 41-42.—Note the triumphant joy of Lochinvar.
l. 41.—Scaur: a steep bank; pronounced scar.
l. 43-45.—The lively movement continues throughout these lines.
l. 46.—This is a summary. The time will be slow when we recognize and endeavor to express the full import of the passage.
Longfellow’s Peace-Pipe, from The Song of Hiawatha, is particularly adapted to analytic study. We shall confine our study principally to questions of sense relations, such as Momentary Completeness, Values, and the like.
THE PEACE-PIPE
LONGFELLOW
On the Mountains of the Prairie,
On the great Red Pipe-Stone Quarry,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
He the Master of Life, descending,
On the red crags of the quarry 5
Stood erect, and called the nations,
Called the tribes of men together.
From his footprints flowed a river,
Leaped into the light of morning,
O’er the precipice plunging downward 10
Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet.
And the Spirit, stooping earthward,
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it,
Saying to it, “Run in this way!” 15
From the red stone of the quarry
With his hand he broke a fragment,
Moulded it into a pipe-head,
Shaped and fashioned it with figures;
From the margin of the river 20
Took a long reed for a pipe-stem,
With its dark green leaves upon it!
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
With the bark of the red willow;
Breathed upon the neighboring forest, 25
Made its great boughs chafe together,
Till in flame they burst and kindled;
And erect upon the mountains,
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
Smoked the calumet, the Peace-Pipe, 30
As a signal to the nations.
And the smoke rose slowly, slowly,
Through the tranquil air of morning,
First a single line of darkness,
Then a denser, bluer vapor, 35
Then a snow-white cloud unfolding,
Like the tree-tops of the forest,
Ever rising, rising, rising,
Till it touched the top of heaven,
Till it broke against the heaven, 40
And rolled outward all around it.
From the Vale of Tawasentha,
From the Valley of Wyoming,
From the groves of Tuscaloosa,
From the far-off Rocky Mountains, 45
From the Northern lakes and rivers
All the tribes beheld the signal,
Saw the distant smoke ascending,
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe.
And the Prophets of the nations 50
Said: “Behold it, the Pukwana!
By this signal from afar off,
Bending like a wand of willow,
Waving like a hand that beckons,
Gitche Manito, the mighty, 55
Calls the tribes of men together,
Calls the warriors to his council!”
Down the rivers, o’er the prairies,
Came the warriors of the nations,
Came the Delawares and Mohawks, 60
Came the Choctaws and Camanches,
Came the Shoshonies and Blackfeet,
Came the Pawnees and Omahas,
Came the Mandans and Dacotahs,
Came the Hurons and Ojibways, 65
All the warriors drawn together
By the signal of the Peace-Pipe,
To the Mountains of the Prairie,
To the Great Red Pipe-Stone Quarry.
And they stood there on the meadow, 70
With their weapons and their war-gear,
Painted like the leaves of Autumn,
Painted like the sky of morning,
Wildly glaring at each other;
In their faces stern defiance, 75
In their hearts the feuds of ages,
The hereditary hatred,
The ancestral thirst of vengeance.
Gitche Manito, the mighty,
The creator of the nations, 80
Looked upon them with compassion,
With paternal love and pity;
Looked upon their wrath and wrangling
But as quarrels among children,
But as feuds and fights of children! 85
Over them he stretched his right hand,
To subdue their stubborn natures,
To allay their thirst and fever,
By the shadow of his right hand;
Spake to them with voice majestic 90
As the sound of far-off waters,
Falling into deep abysses,
Warning, chiding, spake in this wise:—
“O my children! my poor children!
Listen to the words of wisdom, 95
Listen to the words of warning,
From the lips of the Great Spirit,
From the Master of Life, who made you!
“I have given you lands to hunt in,
I have given you streams to fish in, 100
I have given you bear and bison,
I have given you roe and reindeer,
I have given you brant and beaver,
Filled the marshes full of wild-fowl,
Filled the rivers full of fishes; 105
Why then are you not contented?
Why then will you hunt each other?
“I am weary of your quarrels,
Weary of your wars and bloodshed,
Weary of your prayers for vengeance, 110
Of your wranglings and dissensions;
All your strength is in your union,
All your danger is in discord;
Therefore be at peace henceforward,
And as brothers live together. 115
“I will send a Prophet to you,
A Deliverer of the nations,
Who shall guide you and shall teach you,
Who shall toil and suffer with you.
If you listen to his counsels, 120
You will multiply and prosper;
If his warnings pass unheeded,
You will fade away and perish!
“Bathe now in the stream before you,
Wash the war-paint from your faces, 125
Wash the blood-stains from your fingers,
Bury your war-clubs and your weapons,
Break the red stone from this quarry,
Mould and make it into Peace-Pipes,
Take the reeds that grow beside you, 130
Deck them with your brightest feathers,
Smoke the calumet together,
And as brothers live henceforward!”
Then upon the ground the warriors
Threw their cloaks and shirts of deer-skin, 135
Threw their weapons and their war-gear,
Leaped into the rushing river,
Washed the war-paint from their faces.
Clear above them flowed the water,
Clear and limpid from the footprints 140
Of the Master of Life descending;
Dark below them flowed the water,
Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson,
As if blood were mingled with it!
From the river came the warriors, 145
Clean and washed from all their war-paint;
On the banks their clubs they buried,
Buried all their warlike weapons.
Gitche Manitou, the mighty,
The Great Spirit, the creator, 150
Smiled upon his helpless children!
And in silence all the warriors
Broke the red stone of the quarry,
Smoothed and formed it into Peace-Pipes,
Broke the long reeds by the river, 155
Decked them with their brightest feathers,
And departed each one homeward,
While the Master of Life, ascending,
Through the opening of cloud-curtains,
Through the doorways of the heaven, 160
Vanished from before their faces,
In the smoke that rolled around him,
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe!
It is to be hoped that the following notes will be carefully considered. Inflections are most subtle indications of interpretation, and their meaning none too well apprehended. Time spent in such an analysis as that herein undertaken should solve all the ordinary difficulties of the class-room.
l. 1.—Incomplete, hence rising inflection[15] on Prairie.
l. 2.—The same inflection on Quarry.
l. 3-5.—(a) Gitche Manito is the central idea; hence there will be more force on those words. (b) Note that descending is separated from the next line by a comma. This is a good illustration of the function of punctuation; for if the comma were not inserted we should read, descending On the red crags of the quarry, and should not learn of our mistake until we came to the next line.
l. 6.—Nations: falling inflection. A good illustration of the principle that punctuation does not determine inflection: the sense is complete, and the falling inflection instinctively denotes that fact. The whole paragraph is pointing forward to the main statement, called the nations. There might be some reason in the use of a falling inflection on erect, but perhaps the other interpretation is to be preferred.
l. 8-9.—Falling inflections on river and on morning.
l. 10.—Rising inflection on downward. There is likelihood of misinterpretation here. Paraphrased, lines 10 and 11 are equivalent to, And the river, plunging downward over the precipice, gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet.
l. 11.—Falling inflection on Ishkoodah, because the river did not gleam like the comet Ishkoodah, but like Ishkoodah, which is the Indian name for comet.
l. 12.—Stooping earthward: subordinate idea.
l. 12-15.—It is surprising how careless pupils are in reading these lines. They nearly always read them to convey the idea that the Spirit stooped earthward with his finger on the meadow. Observe how the meaning is brought out by the following reading:
And the Spirit (pause), stooping earthẃard (pause),
With his finger (pause) on the meadoẃ (pause),
Traced a winding pathẁay for it̀ (pause),
Saying to it́́ (pause), “Run in th̀is way!”
l. 17-19.—The melody is virtually the same in each of these lines, with a falling inflection on fragment, pipe-head and figures.
l. 21.—Rising inflection preferable on pipe-stem. The poem abounds in lines ending with falling inflections; hence, one should be on the alert for such lines as this.
l. 23.—Falling inflection on willow.
l. 25-26.—Rising inflection on forest and on together. We note that these two lines point forward.
l. 28-31.—Rising inflections throughout, even on calumet, upon which word the pupil often errs.
l. 30.—The Peace-Pipe is not a subordinate idea; it is an idea coördinate with calumet.
l. 32.—Observe the rhythmic change and its meaning.
l. 33.—Falling inflection on morning. Lines 32 and 33 contain the general statement, and
l. 34-39 contain the particular. When we perceive this latter fact we will use the rising inflection at the end of each line until we reach heaven in line 39, when, of course, we shall have the falling.
l. 37.—Subordinate.
l. 40.—Observe that broke is the emphatic word, not against. Rising inflection on heaven.
l. 42-46.—It is an open question whether we should use a rising or a falling inflection at the end of each of these lines. To use the falling would convey the idea that each detail was important; to use the rising, to lay the stress upon the whole. (See Momentary Completeness, page 61, et seq.) The former reading seems the better.
l. 51.—Falling inflection on Behold it.
l. 53-54.—Subordinate.
l. 56.—Falling inflection on together.
l. 58.—An interesting point is presented in this line. The poet intends to convey the idea that some tribes came down the rivers and others o’er the prairies. Hence the melody and force of the two phrases will be identical.
l. 59.—Falling inflection on nations.
l. 60-65.—The most natural interpretation seems to be to use a rising inflection on the name of the first tribe in each line, and a falling on the second.
l. 66-67.—Rising inflection on together and on Peace-Pipe.
l. 68.—Falling inflection on Prairie.
l. 70.—Rising inflection on meadow.
l. 71-74.—Falling inflection on war-gear, Autumn, morning, and other.
l. 74.—This is the strongest line of the four.
l. 75-76.—Faces and hearts are not contrasted. The melody of the two lines is virtually the same.
l. 81.—Falling inflection on compassion.
l. 86.—Falling inflection on hand is to be preferred.
l. 87-89.—These three lines should be construed as one idea. Hence rising inflection will be given on natures and on fever.
l. 90-93.—Rising inflections on majestic, waters, warning, chiding. Why? Falling inflection on abysses. Why?
l. 94.—Does he use rising inflection or falling on children? What would be the difference in the idea conveyed by each?
l. 95-96.—Do these lines mean “Will you not listen?” If so they are full of pleading. If the speaker is imperative the inflection will be falling.
l. 98.—Falling inflection on Life. Observe how meaningful are the words who made you.
l. 99-105.—Shall there be rising or falling inflection at the end of these lines? What would each convey respectively?
l. 112.—Observe the radical change in the speaker’s attitude. He has been asserting; now he argues and pleads.
l. 116-117.—Falling inflection on you and on nations.
l. 118.—Rising inflection on guide.
l. 119.—Toil and suffer should be joined together, with the main pause after suffer. Do not emphasize with.
l. 121.—Rising inflection on multiply.
l. 122.—Note the contrast on unheeded.
l. 124-127.—Falling inflection on all the emphatic words. There will be a tendency to use the rising inflection on war-paint, blood-stains, war-clubs.
l. 128.—Rising inflection on quarry. Why?
l. 130.—Rising inflection on you.
l. 131.—Falling inflection on feathers.
l. 133.—Principal pause after brothers, with perhaps a brief pause after live.
l. 134.—Short pause after then; longer after ground.
l. 135.—Rising inflection on deer-skin seems preferable.
l. 136.—Falling inflection on war-gear.
l. 138.—Falling inflection on faces.
l. 139.—Falling inflection on water.
l. 140.—Falling inflection on limpid.
l. 142.—Rising inflection on water.
l. 143-144.—Falling inflection on crimson and on blood.
l. 134-144.—This is the climax of the poem. When one grasps this idea the voice becomes full of joy. Be sure to get the picture of the clear and limpid water as it flows down to where the warriors are, and note the change as it passes below them, tinged with the war-paint it has washed away. Note the emphasis on clear above, and on dark below.
l. 145.—Rising inflection on warriors.
l. 148.—Falling inflection on weapons.
l. 149-150.—Rising inflection on mighty and on creator.
l. 151.—Falling inflection on smiled.
l. 152.—Pause after silence; rising inflection on warriors.
l. 153.—Rising inflection on quarry.
l. 154.—Falling inflection on Peace-Pipes.
l. 155-156.—Rising inflection on river, feathers.
l. 158.—Note the pause after ascending. He ascended through and vanished in.
l. 158-160.—Rising inflection on Life, ascending, curtains, and heaven.
l. 161.—Falling inflection on vanished; rising on faces.
l. 162.—It seems that the rising inflection would be preferable on him.
In the following poem it is purposed to offer comments principally as to the movement. There is nothing that conduces more to variety in reading than frequent changes in movement. Not that these changes should be haphazard; on the contrary, as we have seen in Chapter I, there is a definite principle underlying movement. The analysis should reveal that the various ideas are of different degrees of importance, and the recognition of these differences will lead to the variety of movement.
Attention is also directed to transitions, and occasionally to the atmosphere.
Every comment should be carefully considered and challenged. The printed page is a monochrome of type. The danger is, therefore, that we read monotonously. With the years we acquire a fatal facility for pronouncing words without getting the underlying thought. The object of these analyses is to take the mind from the words to the ideas which they express, and so to improve the reading.
HORATIUS
A LAY MADE ABOUT THE YEAR OF THE CITY CCCIX
I[16]
Lars Porsena of Clusium
By the Nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 5
And named a trysting day,
And bade his messengers ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.
XI
And now hath every city 10
Sent up her tale of men:
The foot are fourscore thousand,
The horse are thousands ten.
Before the gates of Sutrium
Is met the great array. 15
A proud man was Lars Porsena
Upon the trysting day.
XII
For all the Etruscan armies
Were ranged beneath his eye,
And many a banished Roman, 20
And many a stout ally;
And with a mighty following
To join the muster came
The Tusculan Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name. 25
XIII
But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign
To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city, 30
The throng stopped up the ways:
A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days.
XIV
For aged folks on crutches,
And women great with child, 35
And mothers sobbing over babes
That clung to them and smiled,
And sick men borne in litters
High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sunburned husbandmen 40
With reaping-hooks and staves,
XV
And droves of mules and asses
Laden with skins of wine,
And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine, 45
And endless trains of wagons
That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn-sacks and of household goods,
Choked every roaring gate.
XVI
Now, from the rock Tarpeian, 50
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the city,
They sat all night and day; 55
For every hour some horseman came
With tidings of dismay.
XIX
They held a council, standing
Before the River-Gate:
Short time was there, ye may well guess, 60
For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly:
“The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost,
Naught else can save the town.” 65
XX
Just then a scout came flying,
All wild with haste and fear:
“To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
Lars Porsena is here.”
On the low hills to westward 70
The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust
Rise fast along the sky.
XXI
And nearer fast, and nearer,
Doth the red whirlwind come; 75
And louder still, and still more loud,
From underneath that rolling cloud,
Is heard the trumpet’s war-note proud,
The trampling and the hum.
And plainly, and more plainly, 80
Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left, and far to right,
In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,
The long array of spears. 85
XXV
But when the face of Sextus
Was seen among the foes,
A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.
On the housetops was no woman 90
But spat towards him, and hissed;
No child but screamed out curses.
And shook its little fist.
XXVI
But the Consul’s brow was sad,
And the Consul’s speech was low; 95
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
“Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge, 100
What hope to save the town?”
XXVII
XXIX
“Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, 110
With all the speed ye may:
I, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three. 115
Now, who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?”
XXX
Then out spake Spurius Lartius,—
A Ramnian proud was he,—
“Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, 120
And keep the bridge with thee.”
And out spake strong Herminius,—
Of Titian blood was he,—
“I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee.” 125
XXXI
“Horatius,” quoth the Consul,
“As thou sayest, so let it be.”
And straight against that great array
Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome’s quarrel 130
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
In the brave days of old.
XXXIV
XXXV
Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
Right glorious to behold,
Come flashing back the noonday light,
Rank behind rank, like surges bright 145
Of a broad sea of gold.
Four hundred trumpets sounded
A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host, with measured tread,
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, 150
Rolled slowly towards the bridge’s head,
Where stood the dauntless Three.
XXXVI
The Three stood calm and silent,
And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter 155
From all the vanguard rose:
And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
And lifted high their shields, and flew 160
To win the narrow way.
XXXVIII
XL
Herminius smote down Aruns; 170
Lartius laid Ocnus low;
Right to the heart of Lausulus
Horatius sent a blow.
“Lie there,” he cried, “fell pirate!
No more, aghast and pale, 175
From Ostia’s walls the crowd shall mark
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania’s hinds shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy
Thy thrice accursèd sail.” 180
XLI
But now no sound of laughter
Was heard among the foes.
A wild and wrathful clamor
From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears’ lengths from the entrance 185
Halted that deep array,
And for a space no man came forth
To win the narrow way.
XLII
But hark! the cry is Astur;
And lo! the ranks divide, 190
And the great Lord of Luna
Comes with his stately stride.
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the fourfold shield,
And in his hand he shakes the brand 195
Which none but he can wield.
XLIII
XLIV
Then, whirling up his broadsword 205
With both hands to the height,
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow. 210
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh:
It missed its helm, but gashed his thigh.
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow.
XLV
He reeled, and on Herminius 215
He leaned one breathing-space,
Then, like a wild-cat mad with wounds,
Sprang right at Astur’s face.
Through teeth and skull and helmet,
So fierce a thrust he sped, 220
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan’s head.
XLVI
And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus 225
A thunder-smitten oak.
XLVII