An Hour of Romance
“I comeTo this sweet place for quiet. Every treeAnd bush, and fragrant flower, and hilly path,And thymy mound that flings unto the windsIts morning incense, is my friend.”--Barry Cornwall.
There were thick leaves above me and around,And low sweet sighs like those of childhood’s sleep,Amidst their dimness, and a fitful soundAs of soft showers on water; dark and deepLay the oak shadows o’er the turf, so stillThey seem’d but pictured glooms; a hidden rillMade music, such as haunts us in a dream,Under the fern-tufts; and a tender gleamOf soft green light, as by the glow-worm shed,Came pouring through the woven beech-boughs down,And steep’d the magic page wherein I readOf royal chivalry and old renown,A tale of Palestine. Meanwhile the beeSwept past me with a tone of summer hours--A drowsy bugle, wafting thoughts of flowers,Blue skies, and amber sunshine: brightly free,On filmy wings, the purple dragon-flyShot glancing like a fairy javelin by;And a sweet voice of sorrow told the dellWhere sat the lone wood-pigeon.But ere long,All sense of these things faded, as the spellBreathing from that high gorgeous tale grew strongOn my chain’d soul. ’Twas not the leaves I heard:--A Syrian wind the lion-banner stirr’d,Through its proud floating folds. ’Twas not the brookSinging in secret through its grassy glen;--A wild shrill trumpet of the SaracenPeal’d from the desert’s lonely heart, and shookThe burning air. Like clouds when winds are high,O’er glittering sands flew steeds of Araby,And tents rose up, and sudden lance and spearFlash’d where a fountain’s diamond wave lay clear,Shadow’d by graceful palm-trees. Then the shoutOf merry England’s joy swell’d freely out,Sent through an Eastern heaven, whose glorious hueMade shields dark mirrors to its depths of blue:And harps were there--I heard their sounding strings,As the waste echo’d to the mirth of kings.The bright mask faded. Unto life’s worn track,What call’d me from its flood of glory back?A voice of happy childhood!--and they pass’d,Banner, and harp, and Paynim’s trumpet’s blast.Yet might I scarce bewail the splendours gone,My heart so leap’d to that sweet laughter’s tone.
Words in this poem 20
- hilly a.
- Abounding with hills; uneven in surface; as, a hilly country.
- thymy a.
- Abounding with thyme; fragrant; as, a thymy vale. Akenside.
- barry a.
- , Divided into bars; -- said of the field.
- childhood n.
- The state of being a child; the time in which persons are children; the condition or time from infancy to puberty. [AS. cildhad; cild child + -had. See Child, and hood.]
- amidst prep.
- In the midst or middle of; surrounded or encompassed by; among. [OE. amidde, amiddes, on midden, AS. on middan, in the middle, fr. midde the middle. The s is an adverbial ending, originally marking the genitive; the t is a la]
- fitful a.
- Full of fits; irregularly variable; impulsive and unstable. [From 7th Fit.]
- pictured a.
- Furnished with pictures; represented by a picture or pictures; as, a pictured scene.
- rill n.
- A very small brook; a streamlet. [Cf. LG. rille a small channel or brook, a furrow, a chamfer, OE. rigol a small brook, F. rigole a trench or furrow for water, W. rhill a row, rhigol a little di]
- meanwhile n.
- The intervening time; as, in the meantime (or mean time).
- sunshine n.
- The light of the sun, or the place where it shines; the direct rays of the sun, the place where they fall, or the warmth and light which they give.
- filmy a.
- Composed of film or films.
- glancing a.
- Shooting, as light.
- dell n.
- A small, retired valley; a ravine. [AS. del, akin to E. dale; cf. D. delle, del, low ground. See Dale.]
- lone n.
- A lane. See Loanin.
- gorgeous a.
- Imposing through splendid or various colors; showy; fine; magnificent. [OF. gorgias beautiful, glorious, vain, luxurious; cf. OF. gorgias ruff, neck handkerchief, and F. gorge throat, and se pengorger to assume airs. Cf. Gorge, n.]
- peal v. i.
- To appeal. Spencer.
- shook v. t.
- To pack, as staves, in a shook.
- araby n.
- The country of Arabia.
- glorious a.
- Exhibiting attributes, qualities, or acts that are worthy of or receive glory; noble; praiseworthy; excellent; splendid; illustrious; inspiring admiration; as, glorious deeds. [OF. glorios, glorious, F. glorieux, fr. L. gloriosus. See Glory, n.]
- 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]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
An Hour of Romance is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Felicia Hemans, Project Gutenberg ebook #66785; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Felicia Hemans, An Hour of Romance, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/an-hour-of-romance.html, id L19445.
Form and metre
An Hour of Romance is 50 lines in 2 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
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.
- 2 ABABCCDDEFEFGHHGGGI-JIJKKL--L--MMNNOOPPQQRR-- aroundA · sleepB · soundA · deepB · stillC · rillC · dreamD · gleamD · shedE · downF · readE · renownF · beeG · hoursH · flowersH · freeG · flyG · byG · dellI · pigeon · longJ · spellI · strongJ · heardK · stirr'dK · brookL · glen · saracen · shookL · high · araby · spearM · clearM · shoutN · outN · hueO · blueO · stringsP · kingsP · trackQ · backQ · pass'dR · blastR · gone · tone
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 |
|---|---|---|
| “I come | 2 | ·· |
| To this sweet place for quiet. Every tree | 10 | ·····//˘˘· |
| And bush, and fragrant flower, and hilly path, | 10 | ···/˘/·/˘· |
| And thymy mound that flings unto the winds | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Its morning incense, is my friend.”--Barry Cornwall. | 12 | ·/˘˘/···/˘/˘ |
| There were thick leaves above me and around, | 10 | ·········· |
| And low sweet sighs like those of childhood’s sleep, | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Amidst their dimness, and a fitful sound | 10 | ˘/·/˘··/˘· |
| As of soft showers on water; dark and deep | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| Lay the oak shadows o’er the turf, so still | 10 | ···/······ |
| They seem’d but pictured glooms; a hidden rill | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Made music, such as haunts us in a dream, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Under the fern-tufts; and a tender gleam | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Of soft green light, as by the glow-worm shed, | 10 | ·········· |
| Came pouring through the woven beech-boughs down, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| And steep’d the magic page wherein I read | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Of royal chivalry and old renown, | 10 | ·/˘/˘˘··˘/ |
| A tale of Palestine. Meanwhile the bee | 10 | ···/˘·/··· |
| Swept past me with a tone of summer hours-- | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| A drowsy bugle, wafting thoughts of flowers, | 11 | ·/˘/˘/˘··/˘ |
| Blue skies, and amber sunshine: brightly free, | 10 | ···/˘/·/˘· |
| On filmy wings, the purple dragon-fly | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Shot glancing like a fairy javelin by; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| And a sweet voice of sorrow told the dell | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Where sat the lone wood-pigeon. | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| But ere long, | 3 | ··· |
| All sense of these things faded, as the spell | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Breathing from that high gorgeous tale grew strong | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| On my chain’d soul. ’Twas not the leaves I heard:-- | 10 | ·········· |
| A Syrian wind the lion-banner stirr’d, | 10 | ·/˘˘··//˘· |
| Through its proud floating folds. ’Twas not the brook | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Singing in secret through its grassy glen;-- | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| A wild shrill trumpet of the Saracen | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| Peal’d from the desert’s lonely heart, and shook | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| The burning air. Like clouds when winds are high, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| O’er glittering sands flew steeds of Araby, | 11 | ·/˘˘····/˘˘ |
| And tents rose up, and sudden lance and spear | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Flash’d where a fountain’s diamond wave lay clear, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Shadow’d by graceful palm-trees. Then the shout | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| Of merry England’s joy swell’d freely out, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Sent through an Eastern heaven, whose glorious hue | 10 | ···/˘/·/˘· |
| Made shields dark mirrors to its depths of blue: | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And harps were there--I heard their sounding strings, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| As the waste echo’d to the mirth of kings. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The bright mask faded. Unto life’s worn track, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| What call’d me from its flood of glory back? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| A voice of happy childhood!--and they pass’d, | 10 | ···/˘/···· |
| Banner, and harp, and Paynim’s trumpet’s blast. | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Yet might I scarce bewail the splendours gone, | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| My heart so leap’d to that sweet laughter’s tone. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
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