To the Apennines
Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines!In the soft light of these serenest skies;From the broad highland region, black with pines,Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise,Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves beholdIn rosy flushes on the virgin gold.
There, rooted to the aerial shelves that wearThe glory of a brighter world, might springSweet flowers of heaven to scent the unbreathed air,And heaven's fleet messengers might rest the wing,To view the fair earth in its summer sleep,Silent, and cradled by the glimmering deep.
Below you lie men's sepulchres, the oldEtrurian tombs, the graves of yesterday;The herd's white bones lie mixed with human mould--Yet up the radiant steeps that I surveyDeath never climbed, nor life's soft breath, with pain,Was yielded to the elements again.
Ages of war have filled these plains with fear;How oft the hind has started at the clashOf spears, and yell of meeting, armies here,Or seen the lightning of the battle flashFrom clouds, that rising with the thunder's sound,Hung like an earth-born tempest o'er the ground!
Ah me! what armed nations--Asian horde,And Libyan host--the Scythian and the Gaul,Have swept your base and through your passes poured,Like ocean-tides uprising at the callOf tyrant winds--against your rocky sideThe bloody billows dashed, and howled, and died.
How crashed the towers before beleaguering foes,Sacked cities smoked and realms were rent in twain;And commonwealths against their rivals rose,Trode out their lives and earned the curse of Cain!While in the noiseless air and light that flowedRound your far brows, eternal Peace abode.
Here pealed the impious hymn, and altar flamesRose to false gods, a dream-begotten throng,Jove, Bacchus, Pan, and earlier, fouler names;While, as the unheeding ages passed along,Ye, from your station in the middle skies,Proclaimed the essential Goodness, strong and wise.
In you the heart that sighs for freedom seeksHer image; there the winds no barrier know,Clouds come and rest and leave your fairy peaks;While even the immaterial Mind, below,And thought, her winged offspring, chained by power,Pine silently for the redeeming hour.
Words in this poem
- etrurian a.
- Of or relating to ancient Etruria, in Italy.
- mould n.
- Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
- asian a.
- Of or pertaining to Asia; Asiatic. [L. Asianus, Gr. Asia.]
- horde n.
- A wandering troop or gang; especially, a clan or tribe of a nomadic people migrating from place to place for the sake of pasturage, plunder, etc.; a predatory multitude. Thomson. [F. horde (cf. G. horde), fr. Turk. ord, ordi, camp; of Tartar origin.]
- libyan a.
- Of or pertaining to Libya, the ancient name of that part of Africa between Egypt and the Atlantic Ocean, or of Africa as a whole.
- uprising n.
- Act of rising; also, a steep place; an ascent.
- twain a.
- Two;- nearly obsolete in common discourse, but used in poetry and burlesque. [OE. twein, tweien, tweyne, AS. twegen, masc. See Two.]
- trode n.
- Tread; footing. [AS. trod, fr. tredan to tread. See Tread.]
- abode n.
- Act of waiting; delay. [OE. abad, abood, fr. abiden to abide. See Abide. For the change of vowel, cf. abode, imp. of abide.]
- jove n.
- The chief divinity of the ancient Romans; Jupiter. [L. Jupiter, gen. Jovis, OL. Jovis, nom. & gen. for Djovis; akin to E. Tuesday. See Tuesday, and cf. Jupiter.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To the Apennines 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, To the Apennines, in Poems (1821–1876), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16341, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bryant-poems/to-the-apennines.html, id L07340.
Form and metre
To the Apennines is 48 lines in 8 stanzas of 6 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCC, complete in 7 of its 8 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 3 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 25% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 -A-ABB apennines · skiesA · pines · riseA · beholdB · goldB
- 2 ABABCC wearA · springB · airA · wingB · sleepC · deepC
- 3 ABABCC oldA · yesterdayB · mouldA · surveyB · painC · againC
- 4 ABABCC fearA · clashB · hereA · flashB · soundC · groundC
- 5 ABABCC hordeA · gaulB · pouredA · callB · sideC · diedC
- 6 ABABCC foesA · twainB · roseA · cainB · flowedC · abodeC
- 7 ABABCC flamesA · throngB · namesA · alongB · skiesC · wiseC
- 8 ABABCC seeksA · knowB · peaksA · belowB · powerC · hourC
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines! | 10 | ···/˘˘·/˘· |
| In the soft light of these serenest skies; | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| From the broad highland region, black with pines, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold | 10 | ····˘/˘·˘/ |
| In rosy flushes on the virgin gold. | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| There, rooted to the aerial shelves that wear | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| The glory of a brighter world, might spring | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Sweet flowers of heaven to scent the unbreathed air, | 10 | ·/·/···˘/· |
| And heaven's fleet messengers might rest the wing, | 10 | ·/˘·/˘···· |
| To view the fair earth in its summer sleep, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Silent, and cradled by the glimmering deep. | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| Below you lie men's sepulchres, the old | 9 | ········· |
| Etrurian tombs, the graves of yesterday; | 11 | ˘/˘˘····/˘˘ |
| The herd's white bones lie mixed with human mould-- | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Yet up the radiant steeps that I survey | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| Death never climbed, nor life's soft breath, with pain, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Was yielded to the elements again. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘˘˘/ |
| Ages of war have filled these plains with fear; | 10 | /˘········ |
| How oft the hind has started at the clash | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of spears, and yell of meeting, armies here, | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| Or seen the lightning of the battle flash | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| From clouds, that rising with the thunder's sound, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Hung like an earth-born tempest o'er the ground! | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Ah me! what armed nations--Asian horde, | 10 | ····˘/˘/˘· |
| And Libyan host--the Scythian and the Gaul, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Have swept your base and through your passes poured, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Like ocean-tides uprising at the call | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘··· |
| Of tyrant winds--against your rocky side | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| The bloody billows dashed, and howled, and died. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| How crashed the towers before beleaguering foes, | 10 | ···/··˘/˘· |
| Sacked cities smoked and realms were rent in twain; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And commonwealths against their rivals rose, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Trode out their lives and earned the curse of Cain! | 10 | ·········· |
| While in the noiseless air and light that flowed | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Round your far brows, eternal Peace abode. | 10 | ····˘/˘·˘/ |
| Here pealed the impious hymn, and altar flames | 11 | ···˘/˘··/˘· |
| Rose to false gods, a dream-begotten throng, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Jove, Bacchus, Pan, and earlier, fouler names; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| While, as the unheeding ages passed along, | 11 | ······/˘·˘/ |
| Ye, from your station in the middle skies, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Proclaimed the essential Goodness, strong and wise. | 11 | ˘/·˘/˘/˘··· |
| In you the heart that sighs for freedom seeks | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Her image; there the winds no barrier know, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Clouds come and rest and leave your fairy peaks; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| While even the immaterial Mind, below, | 10 | ·/··˘/˘··· |
| And thought, her winged offspring, chained by power, | 10 | ····/···/˘ |
| Pine silently for the redeeming hour. | 11 | ·/˘˘··˘/˘/˘ |
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