Sonnet 278
Exempt from every grief,’twas mine to liveIn dreams so sweet, enchantments so divine,A thousand joys propitious Love can giveWere scarcely worth one rapturous pain of mineBound by soft spells, in dear illusions blest,I breathed no sigh for fortune or for power;No care intruding to disturb my breast,I dwelt entranced in Love’s Elysian bower:But Fate, such transports eager to destroy,Soon rudely woke me from the dream of joy,And bade the phantoms of delight begone:Bade hope and happiness at once depart,And left but memory to distract my heart,Retracing every hour of bliss for ever flown.
No searching eye can pierce the veilThat o’er my secret love is thrown;No outward signs reveal its tale,But to my bosom known.Thus, like the spark whose vivid lightIn the dark flint is hid from sight,It dwells within, alone.
Words in this poem
- elysian a.
- Pertaining, or the abode of the blessed after death; hence, yielding the highest pleasures; exceedingly delightful; beatific. [L. Elysius, fr. Elysium.]
- bade
- A form of the pat tense of Bid.
- depart v. i.
- To part; to divide; to separate. [OE. departen to divide, part, depart, F. départir to divide, distribute, se départir to separate one's self, depart; pref. dé- (L. de) + partir to part, depart,]
- distract a.
- Separated; drawn asunder. [L. distractus, p. p. of distrahere to draw asunder; dis- + trahere to draw. See Trace, and cf. Distraught.]
- flown a.
- Flushed, inflated.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Sonnet 278 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, Sonnet 278, in Poems (1808–1835), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66785, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hemans-poems/sonnet-278.html, id L13447.
Form and metre
Sonnet 278 is 21 lines in 2 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.3 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 24% 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 ABABCDCDEE-FF- liveA · divineB · giveA · mineB · blestC · powerD · breastC · bowerD · destroyE · joyE · begone · departF · heartF · flown
- 2 ABABCCB veilA · thrownB · taleA · knownB · lightC · sightC · aloneB
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Exempt from every grief,’twas mine to live | 10 | ˘/·/˘····· |
| In dreams so sweet, enchantments so divine, | 10 | ····˘/˘·˘/ |
| A thousand joys propitious Love can give | 10 | ·/˘·˘/˘··· |
| Were scarcely worth one rapturous pain of mine | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Bound by soft spells, in dear illusions blest, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| I breathed no sigh for fortune or for power; | 11 | ·····/˘··/˘ |
| No care intruding to disturb my breast, | 10 | ··˘/˘·˘/·· |
| I dwelt entranced in Love’s Elysian bower: | 11 | ··˘/··˘/˘/˘ |
| But Fate, such transports eager to destroy, | 10 | ···/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Soon rudely woke me from the dream of joy, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And bade the phantoms of delight begone: | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘/ |
| Bade hope and happiness at once depart, | 10 | ···/˘˘··˘/ |
| And left but memory to distract my heart, | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| Retracing every hour of bliss for ever flown. | 11 | ˘/˘/˘/···/· |
| No searching eye can pierce the veil | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That o’er my secret love is thrown; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| No outward signs reveal its tale, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| But to my bosom known. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Thus, like the spark whose vivid light | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In the dark flint is hid from sight, | 8 | ········ |
| It dwells within, alone. | 6 | ····˘/ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.