England’s Dead

Felicia Hemans (1793–1835) · 1808–1835

short measure · ABAB · 56 lines · from Poems

Son of the Ocean Isle!Where sleep your mighty dead?Show me what high and stately pileIs rear’d o’er Glory’s bed.

Go, stranger! track the deep--Free, free the white sail spread!Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,Where rest not England’s dead.

On Egypt’s burning plains,By the pyramid o’ersway’d,With fearful power the noonday reigns,And the palm-trees yield no shade;--

But let the angry sunFrom heaven look fiercely red,Unfelt by those whose task is done!--There slumber England’s dead.

The hurricane hath mightAlong the Indian shore,And far by Ganges’ banks at nightIs heard the tiger’s roar;--

But let the sound roll on!It hath no tone of dreadFor those that from their toils are gone,--There slumber England’s dead.

Loud rush the torrent-floodsThe Western wilds among,And free, in green Columbia’s woods,The hunter’s bow is strung;--

But let the floods rush on!Let the arrow’s flight be sped!Why should they reck whose task is done?--There slumber England’s dead!

The mountain storms rise highIn the snowy Pyrenees,And toss the pine-boughs through the skyLike rose-leaves on the breeze;--

But let the storm rage on!Let the fresh wreaths be shed!For the Roncesvalles’ field is won,--There slumber England’s dead.

On the frozen deep’s repose’Tis a dark and dreadful hour,When round the ship the ice-fields close,And the northern night-clouds lower;--

But let the ice drift on!Let the cold-blue desert spread!Their course with mast and flag is done,--Even there sleep England’s dead.

The warlike of the isles,The men of field and wave!Are not the rocks their funeral piles,The seas and shores their grave?

Go, stranger! track the deep--Free, free the white sail spread!Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,Where rest not England’s dead.

Words in this poem

isle v. t.: To cause to become an island, or like an island; to surround or encompass; to island.
noonday n.: Midday; twelve o'clock in the day; noon.
angry a.: Troublesome; vexatious; rigorous. [See Anger.]
reck v. t.: To make account of; to care for; to heed; to regard. [AS. reccan, remccan, to care for; akin to OS. rokian, OHG. ruochan, G. geruhen, Icel. rækja, also to E. reckon, rake an implement. See Rake, and cf. Reckon.]
snowy a.: White like snow.
dreadful a.: Full of dread or terror; fearful.

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

England’s Dead 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, England’s Dead, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/england-s-dead.html, id L19299.

Form and metre

England’s Dead is 56 lines in 14 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 10 of its 14 stanzas. The metre is short measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%).

See other poems in short measure.

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 ABAB isle^A · dead^B · pile^A · bed^B
2 ABAB deep^A · spread^B · sweep^A · dead^B
3 ABAB plains^A · o'ersway'd^B · reigns^A · shade^B
4 ABAB sun^A · red^B · done^A · dead^B
5 ABAB might^A · shore^B · night^A · roar^B
6 ABAB on^A · dread^B · gone^A · dead^B
7 -A-A floods · among^A · woods · strung^A
8 -A-A on · sped^A · done · dead^A
9 ABAB high^A · pyrenees^B · sky^A · breeze^B
10 ABAB on^A · shed^B · won^A · dead^B
11 A-A- repose^A · hour · close^A · lower
12 -A-A on · spread^A · done · dead^A
13 ABAB isles^A · wave^B · piles^A · grave^B
14 ABAB deep^A · spread^B · sweep^A · dead^B

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 short measure. How this is done.

Line	Syl.	Stress
Son of the Ocean Isle!	6	···/˘·
Where sleep your mighty dead?	6	···/˘·
Show me what high and stately pile	8	·····/˘·
Is rear’d o’er Glory’s bed.	6	···/˘·
Go, stranger! track the deep--	6	·/˘···
Free, free the white sail spread!	6	······
Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,	8	········
Where rest not England’s dead.	6	···/˘·
On Egypt’s burning plains,	6	·/˘/˘·
By the pyramid o’ersway’d,	6	··/˘··
With fearful power the noonday reigns,	8	·/˘/·/˘·
And the palm-trees yield no shade;--	7	·······
But let the angry sun	6	···/˘·
From heaven look fiercely red,	6	·/·/˘·
Unfelt by those whose task is done!--	8	········
There slumber England’s dead.	6	·/˘/˘·
The hurricane hath might	6	·/˘···
Along the Indian shore,	6	˘/·/˘·
And far by Ganges’ banks at night	8	···/˘···
Is heard the tiger’s roar;--	6	···/˘·
But let the sound roll on!	6	······
It hath no tone of dread	6	······
For those that from their toils are gone,--	8	········
There slumber England’s dead.	6	·/˘/˘·
Loud rush the torrent-floods	6	···/˘·
The Western wilds among,	6	·/˘···
And free, in green Columbia’s woods,	8	····˘/˘·
The hunter’s bow is strung;--	6	·/˘···
But let the floods rush on!	6	······
Let the arrow’s flight be sped!	7	··/˘···
Why should they reck whose task is done?--	8	········
There slumber England’s dead!	6	·/˘/˘·
The mountain storms rise high	6	·/˘···
In the snowy Pyrenees,	7	··/˘/˘˘
And toss the pine-boughs through the sky	8	········
Like rose-leaves on the breeze;--	6	······
But let the storm rage on!	6	······
Let the fresh wreaths be shed!	6	······
For the Roncesvalles’ field is won,--	8	········
There slumber England’s dead.	6	·/˘/˘·
On the frozen deep’s repose	7	··/˘·˘/
’Tis a dark and dreadful hour,	7	····/˘/
When round the ship the ice-fields close,	8	········
And the northern night-clouds lower;--	7	··/˘··/
But let the ice drift on!	6	······
Let the cold-blue desert spread!	7	····/˘·
Their course with mast and flag is done,--	8	········
Even there sleep England’s dead.	6	/··/˘·
The warlike of the isles,	6	·/····
The men of field and wave!	6	······
Are not the rocks their funeral piles,	8	·····/˘·
The seas and shores their grave?	6	······
Go, stranger! track the deep--	6	·/˘···
Free, free the white sail spread!	6	······
Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,	8	········
Where rest not England’s dead.	6	···/˘·

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