Analysis of Brother Benedict
Alfred Austin 1835 (Leeds) – 1913 (Ashford)
Brother Benedict rose and left his cell
With the last slow swing of the evening bell.
In his hand he carried his only book,
And he followed the path to the Abbey brook,
And, crossing the stepping-stones, paused midway,
For the journeying water seemed to say,
Benedicite.
But when he stood on the other bank,
The flags rose tall, and the grass grew rank,
And the sorrel red and the white meadow-sweet
Shook their dust on his sandalled feet,
And, lifting their heads where his girdle hung,
Would surely have said had they found a tongue,
Benedicite.
Onward and upward he clomb and wound,
Bruising the thyme on the nibbled ground
Here and there, in the untrimmed brake,
The dog-rose bloomed for its own sweet sake;
The woodbine clambered up out of reach,
But the scent of them all breathed as plain as speech,
Benedicite.
Shortly he came to a leafy nook,
Where wind never entered nor branch ever shook.
Itself was the only thing in sight,
And the rest of the world was shut out quite.
'Twas as self-contained as the holy place
Where the children quire with upturned face,
Benedicite.
A dell so curtained with trunks and boughs,
That in hours when the ringdove coos to his spouse,
The sun to its heart scarce a way could win.
But the trees now had drawn all their shadows in;
There was nothing but scent in the dewy air,
And the silence seemed saying in mental prayer,
Benedicite.
'Gainst the trunk of a beech, round, smooth, and gray,
Brother Benedict leaned, with intent to pray,
And opened his book: with vellum bound;
Within, red letters on faded ground;
Pater, and Ave, and saving Creed:-
But look where you would, you seemed to read,
Benedicite.
He scarce had a verse of his office said,
Ere a bird in the branches overhead
Began to warble so sweet a strain,
That, strive as he would, still he strove in vain
To close his ears; so he closed his book,
While the unseen throat to the air outshook
Benedicite.
'Twas a song that rippled, and revelled, and ran
Ever back to the note whence it began;
Rising, and falling, and never did stay,
Like a fountain that feeds on itself all day,
Wanting no answer, answering none,
But beginning again as each verse was done,
Benedicite.
It brought an ecstasy into his face,
It weaned his senses from time and space,
It carried him off to worlds unseen,
And showed him what is not and ne'er has been,
Transporting his soul to those realms of calm,
More blessëd and blessing than even the psalm,
Benedicite.
Then, carolling still, it drew him thence
Slowly back to the spheres of sense,
But held him awhile where self expires,
And vague recollections and vague desires
Banish the burden of things that are,
And angels seem canticling, faint and far,
Benedicite.
Then across him there flitted the days that are dead,
And those that will follow when these are fled;
Generations of sorrow, wave after wave,
With their samesome journey from womb to grave;
Men's love of the fleshly sweets that sting,
And the comfort that comes when we kneel and sing,
Benedicite.
He suddenly started and gazed around,
For silence can waken as well as sound,
And the bird had ceased singing. The dewy air
Still was immersed in mental prayer.
Time seemed to have stopped. So he quickened pace,
But forgot not to say ere he left the lone place,
Benedicite.
Downward he wended, and under his feet,
As on mounting, the bruised thyme answered sweet;
As before, in the brake the dog-rose bloomed,
And the woodbine with fragrance the hedge perfumed;
And the white meadow-sweet and the sorrel red,
Had they found a tongue, would still surely have said,
Benedicite.
But where were the flags and the tall rank grass,
And the stepping-stones smooth for his feet to pass?
Were they swept away? Did he wake or dream?
A bridge that he knew not spanned the stream;
Though under its archway he still could hear
The journeying water purling clear,
Benedicite.
Where had he wandered? This never could
Be the spot where the Abbey orchard stood?
Where the filberts once mellowed, lay tumbled blocks,
And cherry stumps peered through tares and docks;
A rough plot stretched where in times gone by
The plump apples dropped to the joyous cry,
Benedicite.
The gateway had vanished, the portal flown,
The walls of the Abbey were ivy-grown;
The arches were shattered, the roof was gone,
The mullions were mouldering one by one;
Wrecked was the oriel's tracery light
That
Scheme | aabbccD eeddffD ddgghhD bbddiiD xxjjkkD ccddddD ddllbbD mmccnnD iixjxxD ooppqqD ddrrssD ddkkiiD ddddddD ttuuxxD ddvvwwD xxxndd |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 101010111 1011110101 0111101101 01100110101 010010111 1010010111 1 111110101 011100111 0010100111 1111111 0101111101 1101111101 1 100101101 100110101 1010011 011111111 01101111 10111111111 1 101110101 11101011101 011010101 0011011111 1110110101 10101111 1 01111101 10101011111 0111110111 1011111110 11101100101 00101100101 1 1011011101 1010110111 01011111 011101101 10010101 111111111 1 1110111101 1010010101 011101101 1111111101 111111111 100111011 1 1011100101 1011011101 1001001011 10101110111 101101001 10100111111 1 1111000111 111101101 110111101 0111110111 0101111111 11101011001 1 1111111 10110111 1110111010 0101001010 100101111 01011101 1 10111101111 0111101111 0101101101 111101111 11101111 00101111101 1 1100100101 1101101111 00111100101 11010101 1111111101 101111111011 1 101101011 1110011101 1010010111 0011100101 0011100101 11101111011 1 1100100111 00101111111 0110111111 011111101 110111111 01001011 1 111101101 1011010101 10101101101 010111101 011110111 0110110101 1 011100101 0110100101 0100100111 0101111 110111 1 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,251 |
Words | 772 |
Sentences | 28 |
Stanzas | 16 |
Stanza Lengths | 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 6 |
Lines Amount | 111 |
Letters per line (avg) | 31 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 215 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 48 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:52 min read
- 74 Views
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"Brother Benedict" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/697/brother-benedict>.
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