Analysis of Ode--Shell the Old City! Shell!
William Gilmore Simms 1806 (Charleston) – 1870 (Charleston)
I.
Shell the old city I shell!
Ye myrmidons of Hell;
Ye serve your master well,
With hellish arts!
Hurl down, with bolt and fire,
The grand old shrines, the spire;
But know, your demon ire
Subdues no hearts!
There, we defy ye still,
With sworn and resolute will;
Courage ye cannot kill
While we have breath!
Stone walls your bolts may break,
But, ere our souls ye shake,
Of the whole land we'll make
One realm of death!
Dear are our homes! our eyes
Weep at their sacrifice;
And, with each bolt that flies,
Each roof that falls,
The pang extorts the tear,
That things so precious, dear
To memory, love, and care,
Sink with our walls.
Trophies of ancient time,
When, with great souls, sublime,
Opposing force and crime,
Our fathers fought;
Relics of golden hours,
When, for our shrines and bowers,
Genius, with magic powers,
Her triumphs wrought!
Each Sabbath-hallowed dome,
Each ancient family home,
The dear old southwest room,
All trellised round;
Where gay, bright summer vines,
Linked in fantastic twines
With the sun's blazing lines,
Rubied the ground!
Homes, sacred to the past,
Which bore the hostile blast,
Though Spain, France, Britain cast
Their shot and shell!
Tombs of the mighty dead,
That in our battles bled,
When on our infant head
These furies fell!
Halls which the foreign guest
Found of each charm possessed,
With cheer unstinted blessed,
And noblest grace;
Where, drawing to her side
The stranger, far and wide,
Frank courtesy took pride
To give him place!
The shaded walks--the bowers
Where, through long summer hours,
Young Love first proved his powers
To win the prize;
Where every tree has heard
Some vows of love preferred,
And, with his leaves unstirred,
Watch'd lips and eyes.
Gardens of tropic blooms,
That, through the shaded rooms,
Sent Orient-winged perfumes
With dusk and dawn;
The grand old laurel, tall,
As sovereign over all,
And, from the porch and hall,
The verdant lawn.
Oh! when we think of these
Old homes, ancestral trees;
Where, in the sun and breeze,
At morn and even,
Was to enjoy the play
Of hearts at holiday,
And find, in blooms of May,
Foretaste of Heaven!
Where, as we cast our eyes
On thing's of precious prize,
Trophies of good and wise,
Grand, noble, brave;
And think of these, so late
Sacred to soul and state,
Doomed, as the wreck of fate,
By fiend and slave!--
The inevitable pain,
Coursing through blood and brain,
Drives forth, like winter rain,
The bitter tear!
We cannot help but weep,
From depth of hearts that keep
The memories, dread and deep.
To vengeance dear!
Aye, for each tear we shed,
There shall be torrents red,
Not from the eye-founts fed,
But from the veins!
Bloody shall be the sweat,
Fiends, felons, that shall yet
Pay retribution's debt,
In torture's pains!
Our tears shall naught abate,
Of what we owe to hate--
To the avenging fate--
To earth and Heaven!
And, soon or late, the hour
Shall bring th' atoning power,
When, through the clouds that lower,
The storm-bolt's driven!
Shell the old city--shell!
But, with each rooftree's knell,
Vows deep of vengeance fell,
Fire soul and eye!
With every tear that falls
Above our stricken walls
Each heart more fiercely calls,
'Avenge, or die!'
Scheme | Text too long |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1 1011011 110011 111101 1101 1111010 011101 111101 111 110111 110101 101101 1111 111111 1110111 101111 1111 11101101 11110 011111 1111 010101 111101 1100101 11101 101101 111101 010101 10101 1011010 11101010 1011010 0101 110101 1101001 01111 111 111101 100101 101101 101 110101 110101 111101 1101 110101 1010101 1110101 111 110101 111101 1111 0101 110101 010101 110011 1111 0101010 1111010 1111110 1101 1100111 111101 01111 1101 101101 110101 110101 1101 011101 110101 010101 0101 111111 110101 100101 11010 110101 11110 010111 01110 1111101 111101 101101 1101 011111 101101 110111 1101 0010001 101101 111101 0101 110111 111111 0100101 1101 111111 111101 110111 1101 101101 110111 111 011 1011101 111111 100101 11010 0111010 1111110 1101110 01110 101101 11111 111101 10101 1100111 0110101 111101 0111 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 3,097 |
Words | 568 |
Sentences | 43 |
Stanzas | 15 |
Stanza Lengths | 9, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8 |
Lines Amount | 121 |
Letters per line (avg) | 20 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 163 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 37 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:52 min read
- 86 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Ode--Shell the Old City! Shell!" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/40626/ode--shell-the-old-city%21-shell%21>.
Discuss this William Gilmore Simms 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