The Curse of Hungary
King Saloman looked from his donjon bars,Where the Danube clamours through sedge and sand,And he cursed with a curse his revolting land,--With a king's deep curse of treason and wars.
He said: "May this false land know no truth!May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish,And a greed of glory but live to nourishEnvy and hate in its restless youth.
"In the barren soil may the ploughshare rust,While the sword grows bright with its fatal labour,And blackens between each man and neighbourThe perilous cloud of a vague distrust!
"Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall,And each to the other as unknown things,That with links of hatred and pride the kingsMay forge firm fetters through each for all!
"May a king wrong them as they wronged their kingMay he wring their hearts as they wrung mine,Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine,And to women and monks their birthright fling!"
The mad king died; but the rushing riverStill brawls by the spot where his donjon stands,And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sandsThat the curse of King Saloman works for ever.
For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheersRing out from the leal and cheated heartsThat were caught and chained by Theresa's arts,--A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears!
And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline,Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down,As Kossuth buried the Iron CrownAnd fled in the dark to the Turkish line.
And latest they saw in the summer glareThe Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed,To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade,A Hapsburg beating the harmless air.
But ever the same sad play they saw,The same weak worship of sword and crown,The noble crushing the humble down,And moulding Wrong to a monstrous Law.
The donjon stands by the turbid river,But Time is crumbling its battered towers;And the slow light withers a despot's powers,And a mad king's curse is not for ever!
Words in this poem
- donjon n.
- The chief tower, also called the keep; a massive tower in ancient castles, forming the strongest part of the fortifications. [See Dungeon.]
- cursed a.
- Deserving a curse; execrable; hateful; detestable; abominable.
- revolting a.
- Causing abhorrence mixed with disgust; exciting extreme repugnance; loathsome; as, revolting cruelty.
- greed n.
- An eager desire or longing; greediness; as, a greed of gain. [Akin to Goth. grdus hunger, Icel. graedhr. sq. root34. See Greedy.]
- ploughshare n.
- The share of a plow, or that part which cuts the slice of earth or sod at the bottom of the furrow. Plowshare bone (Anat.), the pygostyle.
- neighbour v. i.
- To dwell in the vicinity; to be a neighbor, or in the neighborhood; to be near.
- leal a.
- Faithful; loyal; true. [OE. leial, another form of loial, F. loyal. See Loyal.]
- scarce a.
- Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
- coldly adv.
- In a cold manner; without warmth, animation, or feeling; with indifference; calmly.
- glare v. i.
- To shine with a bright, dazzling light. [OE. glaren, gloren; cf. AS. glær amber, LG. glaren to glow or burn like coals, D. gloren to glimmer; prob. akin to E. glass.]
- magyar n.
- One of the dominant people of Hungary, allied to the Finns; a Hungarian. [Hung.]
- moulding n.
- The act or process of shaping in or on a mold, or of making molds; the art or occupation of a molder.
- withers n.
- The ridge between the shoulder bones of a horse, at the base of the neck. See Illust. of Horse. [Properly, the parts which resist the pull or strain in drawing a load; fr. OE. wither resistance, AS. withre, fr. wither against; akin to G. widerrist withers. ]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Curse of Hungary is in the public domain. This text is taken from Pike County Ballads and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #6062; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Hay, The Curse of Hungary, in Pike County Ballads and Other Poems (1871), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6062, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hay-pike-county/the-curse-of-hungary.html, id L21580.
Form and metre
The Curse of Hungary is 44 lines in 11 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABBA, complete in 8 of its 11 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 75%).
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 -AA- bars · sandA · landA · wars
- 2 ABBA truthA · flourishB · nourishB · youthA
- 3 ABBA rustA · labourB · neighbourB · distrustA
- 4 ABBA thrallA · thingsB · kingsB · allA
- 5 ABBA kingA · mineB · wineB · flingA
- 6 -AA- river · standsA · sandsA · ever
- 7 ABBA cheersA · heartsB · artsB · tearsA
- 8 ABBA declineA · downB · crownB · lineA
- 9 ABBA glareA · arrayedB · bladeB · airA
- 10 ABBA sawA · crownB · downB · lawA
- 11 -AA- river · towersA · powersA · ever
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 |
|---|---|---|
| King Saloman looked from his donjon bars, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Where the Danube clamours through sedge and sand, | 10 | ··/˘/˘···· |
| And he cursed with a curse his revolting land,-- | 11 | ·······˘/˘· |
| With a king's deep curse of treason and wars. | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| He said: "May this false land know no truth! | 9 | ········· |
| May the good hearts die and the bad ones flourish, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| And a greed of glory but live to nourish | 11 | ····/˘···/˘ |
| Envy and hate in its restless youth. | 9 | /˘····/˘· |
| "In the barren soil may the ploughshare rust, | 10 | ··/˘···/˘· |
| While the sword grows bright with its fatal labour, | 11 | ·······/˘/· |
| And blackens between each man and neighbour | 10 | ·/˘·····/˘ |
| The perilous cloud of a vague distrust! | 10 | ·/˘˘····˘/ |
| "Be the noble idle, the peasant in thrall, | 11 | ··/˘/˘·/˘·· |
| And each to the other as unknown things, | 10 | ····/˘·˘/· |
| That with links of hatred and pride the kings | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| May forge firm fetters through each for all! | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| "May a king wrong them as they wronged their king | 10 | ·········· |
| May he wring their hearts as they wrung mine, | 9 | ········· |
| Till they pour their blood for his revels like wine, | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| And to women and monks their birthright fling!" | 10 | ··/˘···/·· |
| The mad king died; but the rushing river | 10 | ······/˘/˘ |
| Still brawls by the spot where his donjon stands, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And its swift waves sigh to the conscious sands | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| That the curse of King Saloman works for ever. | 11 | ··········/ |
| For flowing by Pressbourg they heard the cheers | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Ring out from the leal and cheated hearts | 9 | ······/˘· |
| That were caught and chained by Theresa's arts,-- | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| A man's cool head and a girl's hot tears! | 9 | ········· |
| And a star, scarce risen, they saw decline, | 10 | ····/˘··˘/ |
| Where Orsova's hills looked coldly down, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| As Kossuth buried the Iron Crown | 9 | ·/˘/˘·/˘· |
| And fled in the dark to the Turkish line. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And latest they saw in the summer glare | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| The Magyar nobles in pomp arrayed, | 10 | ·/·/˘··˘/˘ |
| To shout as they saw, with his unfleshed blade, | 10 | ·········· |
| A Hapsburg beating the harmless air. | 9 | ·/˘/˘·/˘· |
| But ever the same sad play they saw, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| The same weak worship of sword and crown, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| The noble crushing the humble down, | 9 | ·/˘/˘·/˘· |
| And moulding Wrong to a monstrous Law. | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| The donjon stands by the turbid river, | 10 | ·/˘···/˘/˘ |
| But Time is crumbling its battered towers; | 11 | ···/˘˘·/˘/˘ |
| And the slow light withers a despot's powers, | 11 | ····/˘·/˘/˘ |
| And a mad king's curse is not for ever! | 10 | ········/˘ |
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