Analysis of The Swamp Fox
William Gilmore Simms 1806 (Charleston) – 1870 (Charleston)
WE follow where the Swamp Fox guides,
His friends and merry men are we;
And when the troop of Tarleton rides,
We burrow in the cypress tree.
The turfy hammock is our bed,
Our home is in the red deer's den,
Our roof, the tree-top overhead,
For we are wild and hunted men.
We fly by day and shun its light,
But prompt to strike the sudden blow,
We mount and start with early night,
And through the forest track our foe,
And soon he hears our chargers leap,
The flashing saber blinds his eyes,
And ere he drives away his sleep,
And rushes from his camp, he dies.
Free bridle-bit, good gallant steed,
That will not ask a kind caress
To swim the Santee at our need,
When on his heels the foemen press -
The true heart and the ready hand,
The spirit stubborn to be free,
The twisted bore, the smiting brand -
And we are Marion's men, you see.
Now light the fire and cook the meal,
The last, perhaps, that we shall taste;
I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal,
And that's a sign we move in haste.
He whistles to the scouts, and hark!
You hear his order calm and low.
Come, wave your torch across the dark,
And let us see the boys that go.
We may not see their forms again,
God help 'em, should they find the strife!
For they are strong and fearless men,
And make no coward terms for life;
They'll fight as long as Marion bids,
And when he speaks the word to shy,
Then, not till then, they turn their steeds,
Through thickening shade and swamp to fly.
Now stir the fire and lie at ease -
The scouts are gone, and on the brush
I see the Colonel bend his knees,
To take his slumbers too. But hush!
He's praying, comrades; 't is not strange;
The man that's fighting day by day
May well, when night comes, take a change,
And down upon his knees to pray.
Break up that hoecake, boys, and hand
The sly and silent jug that 's there;
I love not it should idly stand
When Marion's men have need of cheer.
'T is seldom that our luck affords
A stuff like this we just have quaffed,
And dry potatoes on our boards
May always call for such a draught.
Now pile the brush and roll the log;
Hard pillow, but a soldier's head
That's half the time in brake and bog
Must never think of softer bed.
The owl is hooting to the night,
The cooter crawling o'er the bank,
And in that pond the flashing light
Tells where the alligator sank.
What! 't is the signal! start so soon,
And through the Santee swamp so deep,
Without the aid of friendly moon,
And we, Heaven help us! half asleep!
But courage, comrades! Marion leads;
The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night;
So clear your swords and spur your steeds,
There's goodly chance, I think, of fight.
We follow where the Swamp Fox guides,
We leave the swamp and cypress tree,
Our spurs are in our coursers' sides,
And ready for the strife are we.
The Tory camp is now in sight,
And there he cowers within his den;
He hears our shouts, he dreads the fight,
He fears, and flies from Marion's men.
Scheme | Ababcdcd efefghgh ijijkbkb lmlmnfnf dodoxpqp rsrstutu kxkxvcvx xcxcewew xgxg qeqe Ababeded |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Etheree (34%) Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 11010111 11010111 01011101 11000101 01101101 101100111 101011101 11110101 11110111 11110101 11011101 010101101 011110101 01010111 01110111 01011111 11011101 11110101 11011101 1111011 01100101 01010111 0101011 011100111 110100101 01011111 11011111 01011101 11010101 11110101 11110101 01110111 11111101 11111101 11110101 01110111 111111001 01110111 11111111 110010111 110100111 01110101 11010111 1111111 11011111 01110111 11111101 01011111 1111101 010101111 11111101 110011111 1110110101 01111111 010101101 1111101 11010101 11010101 11010101 11011101 0111101 010101001 00110101 1101001 111010111 0101111 01011101 011011101 11011001 01111111 11110111 11011111 11010111 11010101 101101011 01010111 01011101 01110111 111011101 110111001 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,916 |
Words | 566 |
Sentences | 26 |
Stanzas | 11 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 4, 4, 8 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 202 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 51 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:53 min read
- 131 Views
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"The Swamp Fox" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/40633/the-swamp-fox>.
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