Analysis of The Funeral Day of Sir Walter Scott
Felicia Dorothea Hemans 1793 (Liverpool, Lancashire) – 1835 (Dublin, County Dublin)
A GLORIOUS voice hath ceased!-
Mournfully, reverently-the funeral chant
Breathe reverently! There is a dreamy sound,
A hollow murmur of the dying year,
In the deep woods. Let it be wild and sad!
A more Aeolian melancholy tone
Than ever wail'd o'er bright things perishing!
For that is passing from the darken'd land,
Which the green summer will not bring us back-
Though all her songs return. The funeral chant
Breathe reverently!-They bear the mighty forth,
The kingly ruler in the realms of mind-
They bear him through the household paths, the groves,
Where every tree had music of its own
To his quick ear of knowledge taught by love-
And he is silent!-Past the living stream
They bear him now; the stream, whose kindly voice
On alien shores his true heart burn'd to hear-
And he is silent! O'er the heathery hills,
Which his own soul had mantled with a light
Richer than autumn's purple, now they move-
And he is silent!-he, whose flexile lips
Were but unseal'd, and lo! a thousand forms,
From every pastoral glen and fern-clad height,
In glowing life upsprang:-Vassal and chief,
Rider and steed, with shout and bugle-peal,
Fast rushing through the brightly troubled air,
Like the wild huntsman's band. And still they live,
To those fair scenes imperishably bound,
And, from the mountain mist still flashing by,
Startle the wanderer who hath listen'd there
To the seer's voice: phantoms of colour'd thought,
Surviving him who raised.-O eloquence!
O power, whose breathings thus could wake the dead!
Who shall wake thee? lord of the buried past!
And art thou there-to those dim nations join'd,
Thy subject-host so long?-The wand is dropp'd
The bright lamp broken, which the gifted hand
Touch'd, and the genii came!-Sing reverently
The funeral chant!-The mighty is borne home-
And who shall be his mourners?-Youth and age,
For each hath felt his magic-love and grief,
For he hath communed with the heart of each:
Yes-the free spirit of humanity
May join the august procession, for to him
Its mysteries have been tributary things,
And all its accents known:-from field or wave,
Never was conqueror on his battle bier,
By the vail'd banner and the muffled drum,
And the proud drooping of the crested head,
More nobly follow'd home.-The last abode,
The voiceless dwelling of the bard is reach'd:
A still majestic spot: girt solemnly
With all the imploring beauty of decay;
A stately couch 'midst ruins! meet for him
With his bright fame to rest in, as a king
Of other days, laid lonely with his sword
Beneath his head. Sing reverently the chant
Over the honour'd grave!-the grave!-oh, say
Rather the shrine!-An alter for the love,
The light, soft pilgrim steps, the votive wreaths
Of years unborn-a place where leaf and flower,
By that which dies not of the sovereign dead,
Shall be made holy things-where every weed
Shall have its portion of the inspiring gift
From buried glory breathed. And now, what strain,
Making victorious melody ascend
High above sorrow's dirge, befits the tomb
Where he that sway'd the nations thus is laid-
The crown'd of men?
A lowly, lowly, song.
Lowly and solemn be
Thy children's cry to Thee,
Father divine!
A hymn of suppliant breath,
Owning that life and death
Alike are Thine!
A spirit on its way,
Sceptred the earth to sway,
From Thee was sent:
Now call'st Thou back Thine own-
Hence is that radiance flown-
To earth but lent.
Watching in breathless awe,
The bright head bow'd we saw,
Beneath Thy hand!
Fill'd by one hope, one fear,
Now o'er a brother's bier,
Weeping we stand.
How hath he pass'd!-the lord
Of each deep bosom chord,
To meet Thy sight,
Unmantled and alone,
On Thy bless'd mercy thrown,
O Infinite!
So, from his harvest home,
Must the tired peasant come;
So, in one trust,
Leader and king must yield
The naked soul, reveal'd
To Thee, All Just!
The sword of many of a fight-
What then shall be its might?
The lofty lay,
That rush'd on eagle wing-
What shall its memory bring?
What hope, what stay?
O Father! in that hour,
When earth all succouring power
Shall disavow;
When spear, and shield, and crown,
In faintness are cast down-
Sustain us, Thou!
By Him who bow'd to take
The death-cup for our sake,
The thorn, the rod;
From whom the last dismay
Was not to pass away-
Aid us, O God!
Scheme XABCXDEFXAXXXDGXXHXIXXXIJXKXBXKXXLXXXFMNXJXMOXXHPLXXMQOERAQGXSLXXXXXXXXMMTUUT QQVDDV XXFCHF RRIDDX NPWXXW IIQEEQ SSYZZY 1 1 XQQC Poetic Form Metre 0100111 1100001001 11000110101 0101010101 0011111101 0111001 11011011100 1111010101 1011011111 11010101001 11000110101 0101000111 111101101 11001110111 1111110111 0111010101 1111011101 11001111111 0111010011 111111101 1011010111 011101111 0101010101 110010010111 010111001 1001110101 1101010101 101110111 111111 0101011101 10010011101 1011101101 0101111100 1101111101 1111110101 0111111101 1011110111 0111010101 1001111000 01001010111 0111110101 1111110101 111110111 1011010100 11010010111 1100111001 0111011111 10110011101 1011000101 0011010101 1101010101 0101010111 0101011100 11001010101 0101110111 1111110101 1101110111 01111100001 100110111 1001110101 011101011 11110111010 1111110101 11110111001 11110100101 1101010111 10010010001 101110101 1111010111 0111 010101 100101 110111 1001 01111 101101 0111 010111 10111 1111 1111111 1111001 1111 100101 011111 0111 111111 1100101 1011 111101 111101 1111 1001 111101 1100 111101 1010101 1011 100111 010101 1111 01110101 111111 0101 111101 1111001 1111 1100110 111110 101 110101 010111 0111 111111 0111101 0101 110101 111101 11111 Closest metre Iambic tetrameter Characters 4,250 Words 755 Sentences 45 Stanzas 8 Stanza Lengths 77, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 Lines Amount 119 Letters per line (avg) 28 Words per line (avg) 6 Letters per stanza (avg) 412 Words per stanza (avg) 92 Font size:Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:56 min read
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"The Funeral Day of Sir Walter Scott" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 26 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/13575/the-funeral-day-of-sir-walter-scott>.
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Quiz
Are you a poetry master?
»Which of these famous poems is written in villanelle form?
A
The Owl And The Pussycat
B
Funeral Blues
C
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
D
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
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