Romero
When freedom, from the land of Spain,By Spain's degenerate sons was driven,Who gave their willing limbs againTo wear the chain so lately riven;Romero broke the sword he wore--"Go, faithful brand," the warrior said,"Go, undishonoured, never moreThe blood of man shall make thee red:I grieve for that already shed;And I am sick at heart to know,That faithful friend and noble foeHave only bled to make more strongThe yoke that Spain has worn so long.Wear it who will, in abject fear--I wear it not who have been free;The perjured Ferdinand shall hearNo oath of loyalty from me."Then, hunted by the hounds of power,Romero chose a safe retreat,Where bleak Nevada's summits towerAbove the beauty at their feet.There once, when on his cabin layThe crimson light of setting day,When even on the mountain's breastThe chainless winds were all at rest,And he could hear the river's flowFrom the calm paradise below;Warmed with his former fires again,He framed this rude but solemn strain:
"Here will I make my home--for here at least I see,Upon this wild Sierra's side, the steps of Liberty;Where the locust chirps unscared beneath the unpruned lime,And the merry bee doth hide from man the spoil of the mountain thyme;Where the pure winds come and go, and the wild vine gads at will,An outcast from the haunts of men, she dwells with Nature still.
"I see the valleys, Spain! where thy mighty rivers run,And the hills that lift thy harvests and vineyards to the sun,And the flocks that drink thy brooks and sprinkle all the green,Where lie thy plains, with sheep-walks seamed, and olive-shades between:I see thy fig-trees bask, with the fair pomegranate near,And the fragrance of thy lemon-groves can almost reach me here.
"Fair--fair--but fallen Spain! 'tis with a swelling heart,That I think on all thou mightst have been, and look at what thou art;But the strife is over now, and all the good and brave,That would have raised thee up, are gone, to exile or the grave.Thy fleeces are for monks, thy grapes for the convent feast,And the wealth of all thy harvest-fields for the pampered lord and priest.
"But I shall see the day--it will come before I die--I shall see it in my silver hairs, and with an age-dimmed eye;--When the spirit of the land to liberty shall bound,As yonder fountain leaps away from the darkness of the ground:And to my mountain cell, the voices of the freeShall rise, as from the beaten shore the thunders of the sea."
Words in this poem
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- 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,]
- abject a.
- Cast down; low-lying. [L. abjectus, p. p. of abjicere to throw away; ab + jacere to throw. See Jet a shooting forth.]
- perjured a.
- Guilty of perjury; having sworn falsely; forsworn.
- chainless a.
- Having no chain; not restrained or fettered.
- outcast a.
- Cast out; degraded. [Cf. Sw. utkasta to cast out.]
- seamed a.
- Out of condition; not in good condition; -- said of a hawk.
- bask v. i.
- To lie in warmth; to be exposed to genial heat. [OScand. ba to bathe one's self, or perh. bakask to bake one's self, sk being reflexive. See Bath, n., Bake, v. t.]
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- wealth n.
- Weal; welfare; prosperity; good. [OE. welthe, from wele; cf. D. weelde luxury. See Weal prosperity.]
- pampered a.
- Fed luxuriously; indulged to the full; hence, luxuriant.
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Romero is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems by William Cullen Bryant, Project Gutenberg ebook #16341; 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 Cullen Bryant, Romero, in Poems (1821–1876), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16341, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bryant-poems/romero.html, id L07294.
Form and metre
Romero is 53 lines in 5 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABBCC, complete in 3 of its 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 91% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.7 syllables. 5 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 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 ABABCDCDDEEFFGHGHIJIJKKLLEEAA spainA · drivenB · againA · rivenB · woreC · saidD · moreC · redD · shedD · knowE · foeE · strongF · longF · fearG · freeH · hearG · meH · powerI · retreatJ · towerI · feetJ · layK · dayK · breastL · restL · flowE · belowE · againA · strainA
- 2 --AABB see · liberty · limeA · thymeA · willB · stillB
- 3 AABBCC runA · sunA · greenB · betweenB · nearC · hereC
- 4 AABBCC heartA · artA · braveB · graveB · feastC · priestC
- 5 AABBCC dieA · eyeA · boundB · groundB · freeC · seaC
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 |
|---|---|---|
| When freedom, from the land of Spain, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| By Spain's degenerate sons was driven, | 10 | ··˘/˘···/˘ |
| Who gave their willing limbs again | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| To wear the chain so lately riven; | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Romero broke the sword he wore-- | 8 | ˘/˘····· |
| "Go, faithful brand," the warrior said, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| "Go, undishonoured, never more | 9 | ·····˘/˘· |
| The blood of man shall make thee red: | 8 | ········ |
| I grieve for that already shed; | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| And I am sick at heart to know, | 8 | ········ |
| That faithful friend and noble foe | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Have only bled to make more strong | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The yoke that Spain has worn so long. | 8 | ········ |
| Wear it who will, in abject fear-- | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I wear it not who have been free; | 8 | ········ |
| The perjured Ferdinand shall hear | 9 | ·/˘˘/˘··· |
| No oath of loyalty from me." | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| Then, hunted by the hounds of power, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Romero chose a safe retreat, | 8 | ˘/˘···˘/ |
| Where bleak Nevada's summits tower | 9 | ··˘/˘/˘/˘ |
| Above the beauty at their feet. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| There once, when on his cabin lay | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The crimson light of setting day, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| When even on the mountain's breast | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The chainless winds were all at rest, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And he could hear the river's flow | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| From the calm paradise below; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Warmed with his former fires again, | 10 | ·˘··/˘/˘˘/ |
| He framed this rude but solemn strain: | 9 | ··˘···/˘· |
| "Here will I make my home--for here at least I see, | 12 | ············ |
| Upon this wild Sierra's side, the steps of Liberty; | 13 | ····˘/˘····/˘ |
| Where the locust chirps unscared beneath the unpruned lime, | 13 | ··/˘········· |
| And the merry bee doth hide from man the spoil of the mountain thyme; | 16 | ··/˘·········/˘· |
| Where the pure winds come and go, and the wild vine gads at will, | 14 | ·············· |
| An outcast from the haunts of men, she dwells with Nature still. | 14 | ·/·········/˘· |
| "I see the valleys, Spain! where thy mighty rivers run, | 13 | ···/˘···/˘/˘· |
| And the hills that lift thy harvests and vineyards to the sun, | 14 | ······/˘·/˘··· |
| And the flocks that drink thy brooks and sprinkle all the green, | 13 | ········/˘··· |
| Where lie thy plains, with sheep-walks seamed, and olive-shades between: | 14 | ·········/˘··· |
| I see thy fig-trees bask, with the fair pomegranate near, | 12 | ·········/˘· |
| And the fragrance of thy lemon-groves can almost reach me here. | 15 | ··/˘··/˘··/···· |
| "Fair--fair--but fallen Spain! 'tis with a swelling heart, | 12 | ···/˘····/˘· |
| That I think on all thou mightst have been, and look at what thou art; | 15 | ··············· |
| But the strife is over now, and all the good and brave, | 12 | ············ |
| That would have raised thee up, are gone, to exile or the grave. | 14 | ·········/···· |
| Thy fleeces are for monks, thy grapes for the convent feast, | 13 | ·/˘·······/·· |
| And the wealth of all thy harvest-fields for the pampered lord and priest. | 16 | ······/˘···/˘··· |
| "But I shall see the day--it will come before I die-- | 13 | ············· |
| I shall see it in my silver hairs, and with an age-dimmed eye;-- | 15 | ······/˘······· |
| When the spirit of the land to liberty shall bound, | 11 | ··/····/˘·· |
| As yonder fountain leaps away from the darkness of the ground: | 15 | ·/˘/˘·˘/··/˘··· |
| And to my mountain cell, the voices of the free | 12 | ···/˘··/˘··· |
| Shall rise, as from the beaten shore the thunders of the sea." | 14 | ·····/˘··/˘··· |
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.