The Pillar'd Geaete
As I come by, zome years agoo,A-burnt below a sky o' blue,'Ithin the pillar'd geaete there zungA vaice a-sounden sweet an' young,That meaede me veel awhile to zwimIn weaeves o' jay to hear its hymn;Vor all the zinger, angel-bright,Wer then a-hidden vrom my zight,An' I wer then too lowTo seek a meaete to match my steaete'Ithin the lofty-pillar'd geaete,Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls:Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
Another time as I come byThe house, below a dark-blue sky,The pillar'd geaete wer oben wide,An' who should be a-show'd inside,But she, the comely maid whose hymnWoonce meaede my giddy brain to zwim,A-zitten in the sheaede to zew,A-clad in robes as white as snow.What then? could I so lowLook out a meaete ov higher steaeteSo gay 'ithin a pillar'd geaete,Wi' high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground?Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
Long years stole by, a-gliden slow,Wi' winter cwold an' zummer glow,An' she wer then a widow, cladIn grey; but comely, though so sad;Her husband, heartless to his bride,Spent all her store an' wealth, an' died,Though she noo mwore could now rejaice,Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaice.But had she, in her woe,The higher steaete she had o' leaete'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete,Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls?Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
But while she vell, my Meaeker's greaeceLed me to teaeke a higher pleaece,An' lighten'd up my mind wi' lore,An' bless'd me wi' a worldly store;But still noo winsome feaece or vaice,Had ever been my wedded chaice;An' then I thought, why do I mwopeAlwone without a jay or hope?Would she still think me low?Or scorn a meaete, in my feaeir steaete,In here 'ithin a pillar'd geaete,A happy pleaece wi' her kind feaece?Oh, no! my hope, no, no.
I don't stand out 'tis only feaeteDo gi'e to each his wedded meaete;But eet there's woone above the rest,That every soul can like the best.An' my wold love's a-kindled new,An' my wold dream's a-come out true;But while I had noo soul to sheaereMy good an' ill, an' jaey an ceaere,Should I have bliss below,In gleaemen pleaete an' lofty steaete'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete,Wi' feaeirest flow'rs, an' ponds an' tow'rs?Oh, no! my heart, no, no.
Words in this poem
- awhile adv.
- For a while; for some time; for a short time. [Adj. a + while time, interval.]
- clad v.
- To clothe. Holland.
- stole n.
- A long, loose garment reaching to the feet. [AS. stole, L. stola, Gr. stall. See Stall.]
- heartless a.
- Without a heart.
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- vell n.
- The salted stomach of a calf, used in making cheese; a rennet bag. [Cf. L. vellus the skin of a sheep with the wool on it, a fleece, a hide or pelt, or E. fell a hide.]
- winsome a.
- Cheerful; merry; gay; light-hearted. [AS. wynsum, fr. wynn joy; akin to OS. wunnia, OHG. wunna, wunni, G. wonne, Goth. wunan to rejoice (in unwunands sad), AS. wunian to dwell. Win, v. t., Wont, a.]
- wedded a.
- Joined in wedlock; married.
- wold n.
- A wood; a forest. [OE. wold, wald, AS. weald, wald, a wood, forest; akin to OFries. & OS. wald, D. woud, G. wald, Icel. völlr, a field, and probably to Gr. va a garden, inclosure.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Pillar'd Geaete is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect, Project Gutenberg ebook #21785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Barnes, The Pillar'd Geaete, in Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect (1844–1862), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #21785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/barnes-dorset/the-pillar-d-geaete.html, id L02284.
Form and metre
The Pillar'd Geaete is 65 lines in 5 stanzas of 13 lines each. It is in rhyming couplets, 55% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.7 syllables. 23% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 --AABBCCDEE-D agoo · blue · zungA · youngA · zwimB · hymnB · brightC · zightC · lowD · steaeteE · geaeteE · walls · noD
- 2 AABBCC-DDEE-D byA · skyA · wideB · insideB · hymnC · zwimC · zew · snowD · lowD · steaeteE · geaeteE · ground · noD
- 3 AABBCCDDAEE-A slowA · glowA · cladB · sadB · brideC · diedC · rejaiceD · vaiceD · woeA · leaeteE · geaeteE · walls · noA
- 4 AABBCCDDEFFAE greaeceA · pleaeceA · loreB · storeB · vaiceC · chaiceC · mwopeD · hopeD · lowE · steaeteF · geaeteF · feaeceA · noE
- 5 AABBCCDDEAA-E feaeteA · meaeteA · restB · bestB · newC · trueC · sheaereD · ceaereD · belowE · steaeteA · geaeteA · tow'rs · noE
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| As I come by, zome years agoo, | 8 | ········ |
| A-burnt below a sky o' blue, | 8 | ········ |
| 'Ithin the pillar'd geaete there zung | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| A vaice a-sounden sweet an' young, | 8 | ········ |
| That meaede me veel awhile to zwim | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| In weaeves o' jay to hear its hymn; | 8 | ········ |
| Vor all the zinger, angel-bright, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Wer then a-hidden vrom my zight, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| An' I wer then too low | 6 | ······ |
| To seek a meaete to match my steaete | 8 | ········ |
| 'Ithin the lofty-pillar'd geaete, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls: | 8 | ········ |
| Oh, no! my heart, no, no. | 6 | ······ |
| Another time as I come by | 8 | ˘/˘····· |
| The house, below a dark-blue sky, | 8 | ········ |
| The pillar'd geaete wer oben wide, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' who should be a-show'd inside, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| But she, the comely maid whose hymn | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Woonce meaede my giddy brain to zwim, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| A-zitten in the sheaede to zew, | 8 | ········ |
| A-clad in robes as white as snow. | 8 | ········ |
| What then? could I so low | 6 | ······ |
| Look out a meaete ov higher steaete | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| So gay 'ithin a pillar'd geaete, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Wi' high walls round the smooth-mow'd ground? | 8 | ········ |
| Oh, no! my heart, no, no. | 6 | ······ |
| Long years stole by, a-gliden slow, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Wi' winter cwold an' zummer glow, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' she wer then a widow, clad | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In grey; but comely, though so sad; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Her husband, heartless to his bride, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Spent all her store an' wealth, an' died, | 8 | ········ |
| Though she noo mwore could now rejaice, | 8 | ········ |
| Yet sweet did sound her zongless vaice. | 8 | ········ |
| But had she, in her woe, | 6 | ······ |
| The higher steaete she had o' leaete | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| 'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Wi' stwonen balls upon the walls? | 8 | ········ |
| Oh, no! my heart, no, no. | 6 | ······ |
| But while she vell, my Meaeker's greaece | 8 | ········ |
| Led me to teaeke a higher pleaece, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| An' lighten'd up my mind wi' lore, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' bless'd me wi' a worldly store; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But still noo winsome feaece or vaice, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Had ever been my wedded chaice; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| An' then I thought, why do I mwope | 8 | ········ |
| Alwone without a jay or hope? | 8 | ········ |
| Would she still think me low? | 6 | ······ |
| Or scorn a meaete, in my feaeir steaete, | 8 | ········ |
| In here 'ithin a pillar'd geaete, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| A happy pleaece wi' her kind feaece? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Oh, no! my hope, no, no. | 6 | ······ |
| I don't stand out 'tis only feaete | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Do gi'e to each his wedded meaete; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| But eet there's woone above the rest, | 8 | ········ |
| That every soul can like the best. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| An' my wold love's a-kindled new, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| An' my wold dream's a-come out true; | 8 | ········ |
| But while I had noo soul to sheaere | 8 | ········ |
| My good an' ill, an' jaey an ceaere, | 8 | ········ |
| Should I have bliss below, | 6 | ······ |
| In gleaemen pleaete an' lofty steaete | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| 'Ithin the lofty pillar'd geaete, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Wi' feaeirest flow'rs, an' ponds an' tow'rs? | 8 | ········ |
| Oh, no! my heart, no, no. | 6 | ······ |
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