The Dying Slave
Faint-gazing on the burning orb of day,When Afric's injured son expiring lay,His forehead cold, his labouring bosom bare,His dewy temples, and his sable hair,His poor companions kissed, and cried aloud,Rejoicing, whilst his head in peace he bowed:--Now thy long, long task is done,Swiftly, brother, wilt thou run,Ere to-morrow's golden beamGlitter on thy parent stream,Swiftly the delights to share,The feast of joy that waits thee there.Swiftly, brother, wilt thou rideO'er the long and stormy tide,Fleeter than the hurricane,Till thou see'st those scenes again,Where thy father's hut was reared,Where thy mother's voice was heard;Where thy infant brothers playedBeneath the fragrant citron shade;Where through green savannahs wideCooling rivers silent glide,Or the shrill cicalas singCeaseless to their murmuring;Where the dance, the festive song,Of many a friend divided long,Doomed through stranger lands to roam,Shall bid thy spirit welcome home!Fearless o'er the foaming tideAgain thy light canoe shall ride;Fearless on the embattled plainThou shalt lift thy lance again;Or, starting at the call of morn,Wake the wild woods with thy horn;Or, rushing down the mountain-slope,O'ertake the nimble antelope;Or lead the dance, 'mid blissful bands,On cool Andracte's yellow sands;Or, in the embowering orange-grove,Tell to thy long-forsaken loveThe wounds, the agony severe,Thy patient spirit suffered here!Fear not now the tyrant's power,Past is his insulting hour;Mark no more the sullen traitOn slavery's brow of scorn and hate;Hear no more the long sigh borneMurmuring on the gales of morn!Go in peace; yet we remainFar distant toiling on in pain;Ere the great Sun fire the skiesTo our work of woe we rise;And see each night, without a friend,The world's great comforter descend!Tell our brethren, where ye meet,Thus we toil with weary feet;Yet tell them that Love's generous flame,In joy, in wretchedness the same,In distant worlds was ne'er forgot;And tell them that we murmur not;Tell them, though the pang will start,And drain the life-blood from the heart,--Tell them, generous shame forbidsThe tear to stain our burning lids!Tell them, in weariness and want,For our native hills we pant,Where soon, from shame and sorrow free,We hope in death to follow thee!
Words in this poem 16
- expiring a.
- Breathing out air from the lungs; emitting fluid or volatile matter; exhaling; breathing the last breath; dying; ending; terminating.
- labouring a.
- That labors; performing labor; esp., performing coarse, heavy work, not requiring skill also, set apart for labor; as, laboring days.
- sable n.
- A carnivorous animal of the Weasel family (Mustela zibellina) native of the northern latitudes of Europe, Asia, and America, -- noted for its fine, soft, and valuable fur. [OF. sable, F. zibeline sable (in sense 4), LL. sabellum; cf. D. sabel, Dan. sabel, zobel, Sw. sabel, sobel, G. zobel; all fr. Russ. sóbole.]
- aloud adv.
- With a loud voice, or great noise; loudly; audibly. [Pref. a- + loud.]
- cooling a.
- Adapted to cool and refresh; allaying heat.
- ceaseless a.
- Without pause or end; incessant.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- embattled a.
- Having indentations like a battlement.
- shalt
- 2d per. sing. of Shall.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- blissful a.
- Full of, characterized by, or causing, joy and felicity; happy in the highest degree.
- sullen a.
- Lonely; solitary; desolate. Wyclif (Job iii. 14). [OE. solein, solain, lonely, sullen; through Old French fr. (assumed) LL. solanus solitary, fr. L. solus alone. See Sole, a.]
- trait n.
- A stroke; a touch. [F., fr. L. tractus, fr. trahere to draw. See Trace, v., and cf. Tract a region, Trace a strap, Tret.]
- comforter n.
- One who administers comfort or consolation.
- generous a.
- Of honorable birth or origin; highborn. [F. généreux, fr. L. generous of noble birth, noble, excellent, magnanimous, fr. genus birth, race: cf. It. generoso. See 2d Gender.]
- pant v. i.
- To breathe quickly or in a labored manner, as after exertion or from eagerness or excitement; to respire with heaving of the breast; to gasp. [Cf. F. panteler to gasp for breath, OF. panteisier to be breathless, F. pantois out of breath; perh. akin to E. phantom, the verb prob. orig. meaning, to have t]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Dying Slave is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles, Vol. 1 With Memoir, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes by George Gilfillan, Project Gutenberg ebook #18915; 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 Lisle Bowles, The Dying Slave, in The Poetical Works, Volume I (1789–1837), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18915, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bowles-sonnets/the-dying-slave.html, id L09926.
Form and metre
The Dying Slave is 68 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets, 85% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.9 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 19% 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 AABBCCDDEEFFGG----HHIIJJJJKKLL--MMNNOO--PPQQRRSSTTUUVVWWXXYYZZaa--bb dayA · layA · bareB · hairB · aloudC · bowedC · doneD · runD · beamE · streamE · shareF · thereF · rideG · tideG · hurricane · again · reared · heard · playedH · shadeH · wideI · glideI · singJ · murmuringJ · songJ · longJ · roamK · homeK · tideL · rideL · plain · again · mornM · hornM · slopeN · antelopeN · bandsO · sandsO · grove · love · severeP · hereP · powerQ · hourQ · traitR · hateR · borneS · mornS · remainT · painT · skiesU · riseU · friendV · descendV · meetW · feetW · flameX · sameX · forgotY · notY · startZ · heartZ · forbidsa · lidsa · want · pant · freeb · theeb
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Faint-gazing on the burning orb of day, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| When Afric's injured son expiring lay, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| His forehead cold, his labouring bosom bare, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| His dewy temples, and his sable hair, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| His poor companions kissed, and cried aloud, | 10 | ··˘/˘···˘/ |
| Rejoicing, whilst his head in peace he bowed:-- | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| Now thy long, long task is done, | 7 | ······· |
| Swiftly, brother, wilt thou run, | 7 | /˘/˘··· |
| Ere to-morrow's golden beam | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Glitter on thy parent stream, | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Swiftly the delights to share, | 7 | /˘·˘/·· |
| The feast of joy that waits thee there. | 8 | ········ |
| Swiftly, brother, wilt thou ride | 7 | /˘/˘··· |
| O'er the long and stormy tide, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Fleeter than the hurricane, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Till thou see'st those scenes again, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Where thy father's hut was reared, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Where thy mother's voice was heard; | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Where thy infant brothers played | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Beneath the fragrant citron shade; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Where through green savannahs wide | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| Cooling rivers silent glide, | 7 | /˘/˘/˘· |
| Or the shrill cicalas sing | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| Ceaseless to their murmuring; | 7 | /˘··/˘˘ |
| Where the dance, the festive song, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Of many a friend divided long, | 9 | ·/˘··˘/˘· |
| Doomed through stranger lands to roam, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Shall bid thy spirit welcome home! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Fearless o'er the foaming tide | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Again thy light canoe shall ride; | 8 | ˘/··˘/·· |
| Fearless on the embattled plain | 9 | /˘··˘/˘˘· |
| Thou shalt lift thy lance again; | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Or, starting at the call of morn, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Wake the wild woods with thy horn; | 7 | ······· |
| Or, rushing down the mountain-slope, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| O'ertake the nimble antelope; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Or lead the dance, 'mid blissful bands, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| On cool Andracte's yellow sands; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Or, in the embowering orange-grove, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Tell to thy long-forsaken love | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| The wounds, the agony severe, | 8 | ···/˘˘˘/ |
| Thy patient spirit suffered here! | 9 | ·/˘/˘/˘˘· |
| Fear not now the tyrant's power, | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| Past is his insulting hour; | 8 | ···˘/˘/˘ |
| Mark no more the sullen trait | 7 | ····/˘· |
| On slavery's brow of scorn and hate; | 9 | ·/˘˘····· |
| Hear no more the long sigh borne | 7 | ······· |
| Murmuring on the gales of morn! | 8 | /˘˘····· |
| Go in peace; yet we remain | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Far distant toiling on in pain; | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Ere the great Sun fire the skies | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| To our work of woe we rise; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And see each night, without a friend, | 8 | ········ |
| The world's great comforter descend! | 8 | ···/˘˘˘/ |
| Tell our brethren, where ye meet, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Thus we toil with weary feet; | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Yet tell them that Love's generous flame, | 9 | ·····/˘˘· |
| In joy, in wretchedness the same, | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| In distant worlds was ne'er forgot; | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| And tell them that we murmur not; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Tell them, though the pang will start, | 7 | ······· |
| And drain the life-blood from the heart,-- | 8 | ········ |
| Tell them, generous shame forbids | 8 | ··/˘˘·˘/ |
| The tear to stain our burning lids! | 9 | ····/˘/˘· |
| Tell them, in weariness and want, | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| For our native hills we pant, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Where soon, from shame and sorrow free, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| We hope in death to follow thee! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.