Analysis of Scene 3. A Cliff on the Breton Coast, Overhanging the Sea
Hugo.
Down drops the red sun; through the gloaming
They burst-raging waves of the sea,
Foaming out their own shame-ever foaming
Their leprosy up with fierce glee;
Flung back from the stone, snowy fountains
Of feathery flakes, scarcely flag
Where, shock after shock, the green mountains
Explode on the iron-grey crag.
The salt spray with ceaseless commotion
Leaps round me. I sit on the verge
Of the cliff-'twixt the earth and the ocean
With feet overhanging the surge.
In thy grandeur, oh, sea! we acknowledge,
In thy fairness, oh, earth! we confess,
Hidden truths that are taught in no college,
Hidden songs that no parchments express.
Were they wise in their own generations,
Those sages and sagas of old?
They have pass'd; o'er their names and their nations
Time's billows have silently roll'd;
They have pass'd, leaving little to their children,
Save histories of a truth far from strict;
Or theories more vague and bewildering,
Since three out of four contradict.
Lost labour! vain bookworms have sat in
The halls of dull pedants who teach
Strange tongues, the dead lore of the Latin,
The scroll that is god-like and Greek:
Have wasted life's springtide in learning
Things long ago learnt all in vain;
They are slow, very slow, in discerning
That book lore and wisdom are twain.
Pale shades of a creed that was mythic,
By time or by truth overcome,
Your Delphian temples and Pythic
Are ruins deserted and dumb;
Your Muses are hush'd, and your Graces
Are bruised and defaced; and your gods,
Enshrin'd and enthron'd in high places
No longer, are powerless as clods;
By forest and streamlet, where glisten'd
Fair feet of the Naiads that skimm'd
The shallows; where the Oreads listen'd,
Rose-lipp'd, amber-hair'd, marble-limb'd,
No lithe forms disport in the river,
No sweet faces peer through the boughs,
Elms and beeches wave silent for ever,
Ever silent the bright water flows.
(Were they duller or wiser than we are,
Those heathens of old? Who shall say?
Worse or better? Thy wisdom, O 'Thea
Glaucopis', was wise in thy day;
And the false gods alluring to evil,
That sway'd reckless votaries then,
Were slain to no purpose; they revel
Re-crowned in the hearts of us men.)
Dead priests of Osiris and Isis,
And Apis! that mystical lore,
Like a nightmare, conceived in a crisis
Of fever, is studied no more;
Dead Magian! yon star-troop that spangles
The arch of yon firmament vast
Looks calm, like a host of white angels,
On dry dust of votaries past.
On seas unexplored can the ship shun
Sunk rocks? Can man fathom life's links,
Past or future, unsolved by Egyptian
Or Theban, unspoken by Sphinx?
The riddle remains still unravell'd
By students consuming night oil.
Oh, earth! we have toil'd, we have travail'd,
How long shall we travail and toil?
How long? The short life that fools reckon
So sweet, by how much is it higher
Than brute life?-the false gods still beckon,
And man, through the dust and the mire,
Toils onward, as toils the dull bullock,
Unreasoning, brutish, and blind,
With Ashtaroth, Mammon, and Moloch
In front, and Alecto behind.
The wise one of earth, the Chaldean,
Serves folly in wisdom's disguise;
And the sensual Epicurean,
Though grosser, is hardly less wise;
'Twixt the former, half pedant, half pagan,
And the latter, half sow and half sloth,
We halt, choose Astarte or Dagon,
Or sacrifice freely to both.
With our reason that seeks to disparage,
Brute instinct it fails to subdue;
With our false illegitimate courage,
Our sophistry, vain and untrue;
Our hopes that ascend so and fall so,
Our passions, fierce hates and hot loves,
We are wise (aye, the snake is wise also)
Wise as serpents, NOT harmless as doves.
Some flashes, like faint sparks from heaven,
Come rarely with rushing of wings;
We are conscious at times we have striven,
Though seldom, to grasp better things;
These pass, leaving hearts that have falter'd,
Good angels with faces estranged,
And the skin of the Ethiop unalter'd,
And the spots of the leopard unchanged.
Oh, earth! pleasant earth! have we hanker'd
To gather thy flowers and thy fruits?
The roses are wither'd, and canker'd
The lilies, and barren the roots
Of the fig-tree, the vine, the wild olive,
Sharp thorns and sad thistles that yield
Fierce harvest-so WE live, and SO live
The perishing beasts of the field.
And withal we are conscious of evil
And good-of the spirit and the cl
Scheme | ABCBCDXDA EFEFGHGH DIDIEJBJ XKEXBLBL XMAMXXXC NONOPXPX XQXQRSRS TUTUCVXV EWEWIXIX EPEXXYKY EZEZE1 E1 G2 X2 A3 A3 E4 E4 5 6 5 6 I7 I7 X8 X8 RR |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 10 110111010 11101101 1011111010 11001111 111011010 11001101 111010110 01101011 011110010 11111101 1011010010 1110001 0101111010 011011101 1011110110 10111101 011011010 11001011 11110110110 11011001 11110101110 1100101111 1101100100 1111101 1111110 0111111 110111010 01111101 11011010 11011101 1111010010 11101011 111011110 1111110 1101001 11001001 110110110 11001011 01010110 110110011 11001110 1110111 0110110 11101101 11110010 11101101 101110110 101001101 0110110111 1111111 1110110110 111011 0011010110 111011 011110110 11001111 1111010 0111001 101010010 11011011 1111111 011111 111011110 111111 11011011 11111011 1110011010 1101011 0100111 11001011 11111111 11110101 110111110 111111110 111011110 01101001 110110110 0101001 11101 010101 0111101 1100101 001000010 11011011 101011110 001011011 1111110 1101011 11010111010 11011101 1101010010 1011001 1011011011 101011011 1111011110 111011011 110111110 11011011 1110111110 11011101 111011110 11011001 001101010 001101001 11101111 110110011 01011001 01001001 1011010110 11011011 110111011 01001101 011110110 011010001 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 4,232 |
Words | 747 |
Sentences | 35 |
Stanzas | 15 |
Stanza Lengths | 9, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 2 |
Lines Amount | 115 |
Letters per line (avg) | 30 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 227 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 50 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:52 min read
- 112 Views
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"Scene 3. A Cliff on the Breton Coast, Overhanging the Sea" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/178/scene-3.-a-cliff-on-the-breton-coast%2C-overhanging-the-sea>.
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