The Burghers (17–)
THE sun had wheeled from Grey’s to Dammer’s Crest,And still I mused on that Thing imminent:At length I sought the High-street to the West.
The level flare raked pane and pedimentAnd my wrecked face, and shaped my nearing friendLike one of those the Furnace held unshent.
“I’ve news concerning her,” he said. “Attend.They fly to-night at the late moon’s first gleam:Watch with thy steel: two righteous thrusts will end
Her shameless visions and his passioned dream.I’ll watch with thee, to testify thy wrong—To aid, maybe.—Law consecrates the scheme.”
I started, and we paced the flags alongTill I replied: “Since it has come to thisI’ll do it! But alone. I can be strong.”
Three hours past Curfew, when the Froom’s mild hissReigned sole, undulled by whirr of merchandize,From Pummery-Tout to where the Gibbet is,
I crossed my pleasaunce hard by Glyd’path Rise,And stood beneath the wall. Eleven strokes went,And to the door they came, contrariwise,
And met in clasp so close I had but bentMy lifted blade upon them to have letTheir two souls loose upon the firmament.
But something held my arm. “A moment yetAs pray-time ere you wantons die!” I said;And then they saw me. Swift her gaze was set
With eye and cry of love illimitedUpon her Heart-king. Never upon meHad she thrown look of love so thorough-sped! . . .
At once she flung her faint form shieldinglyOn his, against the vengeance of my vows;The which o’erruling, her shape shielded he.
Blanked by such love, I stood as in a drowse,And the slow moon edged from the upland nigh,My sad thoughts moving thuswise: “I may house
And I may husband her, yet what am IBut licensed tyrant to this bonded pair?Says Charity, Do as ye would be done by.” . . .
Hurling my iron to the bushes there,I bade them stay. And, as if brain and breastWere passive, they walked with me to the stair.
Inside the house none watched; and on we prestBefore a mirror, in whose gleam I readHer beauty, his,—and mine own mien unblest;
Till at her room I turned. “Madam,” I said,“Have you the wherewithal for this? Pray speak.Love fills no cupboard. You’ll need daily bread.”
“We’ve nothing, sire,” said she; “and nothing seek.’Twere base in me to rob my lord unware;Our hands will earn a pittance week by week.”
And next I saw she’d piled her raiment rareWithin the garde-robes, and her household purse,Her jewels, and least lace of personal wear;
And stood in homespun. Now grown wholly hers,I handed her the gold, her jewels all,And him the choicest of her robes diverse.
“I’ll take you to the doorway in the wall,And then adieu,” I to them. “Friends, withdraw.”They did so; and she went—beyond recall.
And as I paused beneath the arch I sawTheir moonlit figures—slow, as in surprise—Descend the slope, and vanish on the haw.
“‘Fool,’ some will say,” I thought. “But who is wise,Save God alone, to weigh my reasons why?”—“Hast thou struck home?” came with the boughs’ night-sighs.
It was my friend. “I have struck well. They fly,But carry wounds that none can cicatrize.”—“Not mortal?” said he. “Lingering—worse,” said I.
Words in this poem 26
- imminent a.
- Threatening to occur immediately; near at hand; impending; -- said especially of misfortune or peril. [L. imminens, p. pr. of imminere to project; pref. im- in + minere (in comp.) to jut, project. See Eminent.]
- flare v. i.
- To burn with an unsteady or waving flame; as, the candle flares. [Cf. Norw. flara to blaze, flame, adorn with tinsel, dial. Sw. flasa upp, and E. flash, or flacker.]
- pane n.
- The narrow edge of a hammer head. See Peen. [F. panne.]
- unshent a.
- Not shent; not disgraced; blameless. Bp. Hall.
- testify v. i.
- To make a solemn declaration, verbal or written, to establish some fact; to give testimony for the purpose of communicating to others a knowledge of something not known to them. [OF. testifier, L. testificari; testis a witness + -ficare (in comp.) to make. See -fy, and cf. Attest, Contest, Detest, Protest, Testament.]
- maybe adv.
- Perhaps; possibly; peradventure. [For it may be.]
- curfew n.
- The ringing of an evening bell, originally a signal to the inhabitants to cover fires, extinguish lights, and retire to rest, -- instituted by William the Conqueror; also, the bell itself. [OE. courfew, curfu, fr. OF. cuevrefu, covrefeu, F. couvre-feu; covrir to cover + feu fire, fr. L. focus fireplace, hearth. See Cover, and Focus.]
- whirr v. i.
- To whirl round, or revolve, with a whizzing noise; to fly or more quickly with a buzzing or whizzing sound; to whiz.
- gibbet n.
- A kind of gallows; an upright post with an arm projecting from the top, on which, formerly, malefactors were hanged in chains, and their bodies allowed to remain asa warning. [OE. gibet, F. gibet, in OF. also club, fr. LL. gibetum;; cf. OF. gibe sort of sickle or hook, It. giubbetto gibbet, and giubbetta, dim. of giubba mane, also, an]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- contrariwise adv.
- On the contrary; oppositely; on the other hand.
- firmament n.
- Fixed foundation; established basis. [L. firmamentum, fr. firmare to make firm: cf. F. firmament. See Firm, v. & a.]
- illimited a.
- Not limited; interminable. Bp. Hall.
- drowse v. i.
- To sleep imperfectly or unsoundly; to slumber; to be heavy with sleepiness; to doze. [AS. dr, dr, to sink, become slow or inactive; cf. OD. droosen to be sleepy, fall asleep, LG. dr, druusken, to slumber, fall down with a noise; prob, akin to AS.]
- bade
- A form of the pat tense of Bid.
- prest a.
- Ready; prompt; prepared. [OF. prest, F. prêt, fr. L. praestus ready. Cf. Presto.]
- unblest a.
- Not blest; excluded from benediction; hence, accursed; wretched. [Pref. un- not + blessed, blest.]
- sire n.
- A lord, master, or other person in authority. See Sir. [F. sire, originally, an older person. See Sir.]
- unware a.
- Unaware; not foreseeing; being off one's guard. [AS. unwær unwary. See Un- not, and Wary.]
- pittance n.
- An allowance of food bestowed in charity; a mess of victuals; hence, a small charity gift; a dole. [OE. pitance, pitaunce, F. pitance; cf. It. pietanza, LL. pitancia, pittantia, pictantia; perh. fr. L. pietas pity, piety, or perhaps akin to E. petty. Cf. Petty]
- piled a.
- Having a pile or point; pointed. [From 2d Pile.]
- homespun a.
- Spun or wrought at home; of domestic manufacture; coarse; plain.
- doorway n.
- The passage of a door; entrance way into a house or a room.
- moonlit a.
- Illumined by the moon.
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- cicatrize v. t.
- To heal or induce the formation of a cicatrix in, as in wounded or ulcerated flesh. Wiseman. [Cf. F. cicatriser, fr. cicatrice, L. cicatrix, scar.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Burghers (17–) is in the public domain. This text is taken from Wessex Poems and Other Verses, Project Gutenberg ebook #3167; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Hardy, The Burghers (17–), in Wessex Poems and Other Verses (1898), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #3167, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hardy-wessex-poems/the-burghers-17.html, id L04456.
Form and metre
The Burghers (17–) is 69 lines in 23 stanzas of 3 lines each. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 6 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 29% 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-A crestA · imminent · westA
- 2 -B- pediment · friendB · unshent
- 3 BCB attendB · gleamC · endB
- 4 CDC dreamC · wrongD · schemeC
- 5 DED alongD · thisE · strongD
- 6 EF- hissE · merchandizeF · is
- 7 FGF riseF · wentG · contrariwiseF
- 8 GH- bentG · letH · firmament
- 9 HIH yetH · saidI · setH
- 10 -JI illimited · meJ · spedI
- 11 -KJ shieldingly · vowsK · heJ
- 12 KL- drowseK · nighL · house
- 13 LML iL · pairM · byL
- 14 MNM thereM · breastN · stairM
- 15 NO- prestN · readO · unblest
- 16 OPO saidO · speakP · breadO
- 17 PQP seekP · unwareQ · weekP
- 18 QRQ rareQ · purseR · wearQ
- 19 -SR hers · allS · diverseR
- 20 STS wallS · withdrawT · recallS
- 21 TUT sawT · surpriseU · hawT
- 22 UVU wiseU · whyV · sighsU
- 23 VUV flyV · cicatrizeU · iV
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 |
|---|---|---|
| THE sun had wheeled from Grey’s to Dammer’s Crest, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And still I mused on that Thing imminent: | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| At length I sought the High-street to the West. | 10 | ·········· |
| The level flare raked pane and pediment | 10 | ·/˘····/˘˘ |
| And my wrecked face, and shaped my nearing friend | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Like one of those the Furnace held unshent. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| “I’ve news concerning her,” he said. “Attend. | 10 | ··˘/˘···˘/ |
| They fly to-night at the late moon’s first gleam: | 10 | ·········· |
| Watch with thy steel: two righteous thrusts will end | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Her shameless visions and his passioned dream. | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| I’ll watch with thee, to testify thy wrong— | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| To aid, maybe.—Law consecrates the scheme.” | 10 | ··/˘·/˘··· |
| I started, and we paced the flags along | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Till I replied: “Since it has come to this | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| I’ll do it! But alone. I can be strong.” | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| Three hours past Curfew, when the Froom’s mild hiss | 10 | ·/·/˘····· |
| Reigned sole, undulled by whirr of merchandize, | 10 | ·········· |
| From Pummery-Tout to where the Gibbet is, | 11 | ········/˘· |
| I crossed my pleasaunce hard by Glyd’path Rise, | 10 | ·········· |
| And stood beneath the wall. Eleven strokes went, | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| And to the door they came, contrariwise, | 10 | ······/˘˘˘ |
| And met in clasp so close I had but bent | 10 | ·········· |
| My lifted blade upon them to have let | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Their two souls loose upon the firmament. | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| But something held my arm. “A moment yet | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| As pray-time ere you wantons die!” I said; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| And then they saw me. Swift her gaze was set | 10 | ·········· |
| With eye and cry of love illimited | 10 | ······˘/˘˘ |
| Upon her Heart-king. Never upon me | 9 | ·····/··· |
| Had she thrown look of love so thorough-sped! . . . | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| At once she flung her faint form shieldingly | 10 | ·········· |
| On his, against the vengeance of my vows; | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| The which o’erruling, her shape shielded he. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Blanked by such love, I stood as in a drowse, | 10 | ·········· |
| And the slow moon edged from the upland nigh, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| My sad thoughts moving thuswise: “I may house | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And I may husband her, yet what am I | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| But licensed tyrant to this bonded pair? | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Says Charity, Do as ye would be done by.” . . . | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Hurling my iron to the bushes there, | 9 | /˘·/··/˘· |
| I bade them stay. And, as if brain and breast | 10 | ·········· |
| Were passive, they walked with me to the stair. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Inside the house none watched; and on we prest | 10 | ˘/········ |
| Before a mirror, in whose gleam I read | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Her beauty, his,—and mine own mien unblest; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Till at her room I turned. “Madam,” I said, | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| “Have you the wherewithal for this? Pray speak. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Love fills no cupboard. You’ll need daily bread.” | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| “We’ve nothing, sire,” said she; “and nothing seek. | 10 | ·/˘/···/˘· |
| ’Twere base in me to rob my lord unware; | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Our hands will earn a pittance week by week.” | 10 | /····/˘··· |
| And next I saw she’d piled her raiment rare | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Within the garde-robes, and her household purse, | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Her jewels, and least lace of personal wear; | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And stood in homespun. Now grown wholly hers, | 10 | ···/···/˘· |
| I handed her the gold, her jewels all, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And him the choicest of her robes diverse. | 9 | ···/˘···/ |
| “I’ll take you to the doorway in the wall, | 10 | ·····/···· |
| And then adieu,” I to them. “Friends, withdraw.” | 10 | ··˘/····˘/ |
| They did so; and she went—beyond recall. | 10 | ········/· |
| And as I paused beneath the arch I saw | 10 | ·········· |
| Their moonlit figures—slow, as in surprise— | 10 | ·/·/˘···˘/ |
| Descend the slope, and vanish on the haw. | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| “‘Fool,’ some will say,” I thought. “But who is wise, | 10 | ·········· |
| Save God alone, to weigh my reasons why?” | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| —“Hast thou struck home?” came with the boughs’ night-sighs. | 10 | ·········· |
| It was my friend. “I have struck well. They fly, | 10 | ·········· |
| But carry wounds that none can cicatrize.” | 10 | ·/˘····/˘˘ |
| —“Not mortal?” said he. “Lingering—worse,” said I. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
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