Analysis of Sirena
Michael Drayton 1563 (Hartshill) – 1631 (London)
NEAR to the silver Trent
SIRENA dwelleth;
She to whom Nature lent
All that excelleth;
By which the Muses late
And the neat Graces
Have for their greater state
Taken their places;
Twisting an anadem
Wherewith to crown her,
As it belong'd to them
Most to renown her.
On thy bank,
In a rank,
Let thy swans sing her,
And with their music
Along let them bring her.
Tagus and Pactolus
Are to thee debtor,
Nor for their gold to us
Are they the better:
Henceforth of all the rest
Be thou the River
Which, as the daintiest,
Puts them down ever.
For as my precious one
O'er thee doth travel,
She to pearl paragon
Turneth thy gravel.
On thy bank...
Our mournful Philomel,
That rarest tuner,
Henceforth in Aperil
Shall wake the sooner,
And to her shall complain
From the thick cover,
Redoubling every strain
Over and over:
For when my Love too long
Her chamber keepeth,
As though it suffer'd wrong,
The Morning weepeth.
On thy bank...
Oft have I seen the Sun,
To do her honour,
Fix himself at his noon
To look upon her;
And hath gilt every grove,
Every hill near her,
With his flames from above
Striving to cheer her:
And when she from his sight
Hath herself turned,
He, as it had been night,
In clouds hath mourned.
On thy bank...
The verdant meads are seen,
When she doth view them,
In fresh and gallant green
Straight to renew them;
And every little grass
Broad itself spreadeth,
Proud that this bonny lass
Upon it treadeth:
Nor flower is so sweet
In this large cincture,
But it upon her feet
Leaveth some tincture.
On thy bank...
The fishes in the flood,
When she doth angle,
For the hook strive a-good
Them to entangle;
And leaping on the land,
From the clear water,
Their scales upon the sand
Lavishly scatter;
Therewith to pave the mould
Whereon she passes,
So herself to behold
As in her glasses.
On thy bank...
When she looks out by night,
The stars stand gazing,
Like comets to our sight
Fearfully blazing;
As wond'ring at her eyes
With their much brightness,
Which so amaze the skies,
Dimming their lightness.
The raging tempests are calm
When she speaketh,
Such most delightsome balm
From her lips breaketh.
On thy bank...
In all our Brittany
There 's not a fairer,
Nor can you fit any
Should you compare her.
Angels her eyelids keep,
All hearts surprising;
Which look whilst she doth sleep
Like the sun's rising:
She alone of her kind
Knoweth true measure,
And her unmatched mind
Is heaven's treasure.
On thy bank...
Fair Dove and Darwen clear,
Boast ye your beauties,
To Trent your mistress here
Yet pay your duties:
My Love was higher born
Tow'rds the full fountains,
Yet she doth moorland scorn
And the Peak mountains;
Nor would she none should dream
Where she abideth,
Humble as is the stream
Which by her slideth.
On thy bank...
Yet my pour rustic Muse
Nothing can move her,
Nor the means I can use,
Though her true lover:
Many a long winter's night
Have I waked for her,
Yet this my piteous plight
&
Scheme | ababcdcefgfgHhgxg dgigxgagjkxkH kgkglglgmbmbH jgxgxgxgnxnxH ofofpbpbqgqgH xkxkrgrgseseH ntntuiuifbfbH vgvgwtwtxgxgH xyxyz1 z1 fbFbh xgxgngn |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 110101 0101 111101 111 110101 00110 111101 10110 1011 1110 110111 11010 111 001 11110 01110 011110 101 11110 111111 11010 111101 11010 1101 11110 111101 101110 11110 1110 111 10101 11010 1101 11010 010101 10110 01001001 10010 111111 0101 111101 0101 111 111101 1101 101111 11010 0111001 100110 111101 10110 011111 1011 111111 0111 111 010111 11111 010101 11011 0100101 1011 111101 0111 110111 0111 110101 1110 111 010001 11110 101101 11010 010101 10110 110101 10010 11101 1110 101101 10010 111 111111 01110 1101101 110 111101 11110 110101 10110 010111 111 1111 1011 111 0110100 111010 111110 11010 10011 11010 111111 10110 101101 1110 00011 11010 111 11011 11110 111101 11110 111101 10110 11111 00110 111111 111 101101 1101 111 111101 10110 101111 10110 1001101 11110 11111 1 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 3,118 |
Words | 532 |
Sentences | 22 |
Stanzas | 10 |
Stanza Lengths | 17, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 13, 8 |
Lines Amount | 129 |
Letters per line (avg) | 18 |
Words per line (avg) | 4 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 227 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 53 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:42 min read
- 32 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Sirena" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/28108/sirena>.
Discuss this Michael Drayton poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In