Sertorius
Beyond the straits of Hercules,Behold! the strange Hesperian seas,A glittering waste at break of dawn:High on the westward plunging prow,What dreams are on thy spirit now,Sertorius of the milk-white fawn?
Not sorrow, to have done with home!The mourning destinies of RomeHave exiled Rome's last hope with thee:Nor dost thou think on thy lost Spain.What stirs thee on the unknown main?What wilt thou from the virgin sea?
Hailed by the faithless voice of Spain,The lightning warrior come again,Where wilt thou seek the flash of swords,Voyaging toward the set of sun?Though Rome the splendid East hath won,Here thou wilt find no Roman lords.
No Tingis here lifts fortress walls;And here no Lusitania calls:What hath the barren sea to give?Yet high designs enchaunt thee still;The winds are loyal to thy will:Not yet art thou too tired, to live.
No trader thou, to northern isles,Whom mischief-making gold beguilesTo sunless and unkindly coasts:What spirit pilots thee thus farFrom the tempestuous tides of war,Beyond the surging of the hosts?
Nay! this thy secret will must be.Over the visionary sea,Thy sails are set for perfect rest:Surely thy pure and holy fawnHath whispered of an ancient lawn,Far hidden down the solemn West.
A gracious pleasaunce of calm things;There rose-leaves fall by rippling springs:And captains of the older time,Touched with mild light, or gently sleep,Or in the orchard shadows keepOld friendships of the golden prime.
The far seas brighten with gray gleams:O winds of morning! O fair dreams!Will not that land rise up at noon?There, casting Roman mail away,Age long to watch the falling day,And silvery sea, and silvern moon.
Dreams! for they slew thee: Dreams! they luredThee down to death and doom assured:And we were proud to fall with thee.Now, shadows of the men we were,Westward indeed we voyage here,Unto the end of all the sea.
Woe! for the fatal, festal board:Woe! for the signal of the sword,The wine-cup dashed upon the ground:We are but sad, eternal ghosts,Passing far off from human coasts,To the wan land eternal bound.
Words in this poem
- hesperian a.
- Western; being in the west; occidental. [L. hesperius, fr. hesperus the evening star, Gr. Vesper.]
- tingis n.
- A genus of small hemipterous insects which injure trees by sucking the sap from the leaves. See Illustration in Appendix. [NL.]
- sunless a.
- Destitute or deprived of the sun or its rays; shaded; shadowed.
- unkindly a.
- Not kindly; unkind; ungracious.
- brighten v. t.
- To make bright or brighter; to make to shine; to increase the luster of; to give a brighter hue to.
- silvern a.
- Made of silver. Wyclif (Acts xix. 24). [AS. seolfern, sylfren.]
- festal a.
- Of or pertaining to a holiday or a feast; joyous; festive. [L. festum holiday, feast. See feast.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Sertorius is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #66520; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Lionel Johnson, Sertorius, in Poems (1895), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66520, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/johnson-lionel-poems/sertorius.html, id L12555.
Form and metre
Sertorius is 60 lines in 10 stanzas of 6 lines each. The rhyme scheme is AABCCB, complete in 8 of its 10 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
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 AABCCB herculesA · seasA · dawnB · prowC · nowC · fawnB
- 2 AABCCB homeA · romeA · theeB · spainC · mainC · seaB
- 3 AABCCB spainA · againA · swordsB · sunC · wonC · lordsB
- 4 AABCCB wallsA · callsA · giveB · stillC · willC · liveB
- 5 AAB--B islesA · beguilesA · coastsB · far · war · hostsB
- 6 AABCCB beA · seaA · restB · fawnC · lawnC · westB
- 7 AABCCB thingsA · springsA · timeB · sleepC · keepC · primeB
- 8 AABCCB gleamsA · dreamsA · noonB · awayC · dayC · moonB
- 9 AAB--B luredA · assuredA · theeB · were · here · seaB
- 10 AABCCB boardA · swordA · groundB · ghostsC · coastsC · boundB
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Beyond the straits of Hercules, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Behold! the strange Hesperian seas, | 9 | ˘/··˘/˘˘· |
| A glittering waste at break of dawn: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| High on the westward plunging prow, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| What dreams are on thy spirit now, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Sertorius of the milk-white fawn? | 8 | ········ |
| Not sorrow, to have done with home! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The mourning destinies of Rome | 8 | ·/˘/˘˘·· |
| Have exiled Rome's last hope with thee: | 8 | ·/······ |
| Nor dost thou think on thy lost Spain. | 8 | ········ |
| What stirs thee on the unknown main? | 8 | ·····˘/· |
| What wilt thou from the virgin sea? | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Hailed by the faithless voice of Spain, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The lightning warrior come again, | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Where wilt thou seek the flash of swords, | 8 | ········ |
| Voyaging toward the set of sun? | 8 | /˘······ |
| Though Rome the splendid East hath won, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Here thou wilt find no Roman lords. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| No Tingis here lifts fortress walls; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And here no Lusitania calls: | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| What hath the barren sea to give? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Yet high designs enchaunt thee still; | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| The winds are loyal to thy will: | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Not yet art thou too tired, to live. | 8 | ·····/·· |
| No trader thou, to northern isles, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Whom mischief-making gold beguiles | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| To sunless and unkindly coasts: | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| What spirit pilots thee thus far | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| From the tempestuous tides of war, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Beyond the surging of the hosts? | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Nay! this thy secret will must be. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Over the visionary sea, | 8 | ···/˘·˘· |
| Thy sails are set for perfect rest: | 8 | ·····˘/· |
| Surely thy pure and holy fawn | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| Hath whispered of an ancient lawn, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Far hidden down the solemn West. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| A gracious pleasaunce of calm things; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| There rose-leaves fall by rippling springs: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And captains of the older time, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Touched with mild light, or gently sleep, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Or in the orchard shadows keep | 8 | ···/˘/·· |
| Old friendships of the golden prime. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The far seas brighten with gray gleams: | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| O winds of morning! O fair dreams! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Will not that land rise up at noon? | 8 | ········ |
| There, casting Roman mail away, | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| Age long to watch the falling day, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And silvery sea, and silvern moon. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Dreams! for they slew thee: Dreams! they lured | 8 | ········ |
| Thee down to death and doom assured: | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And we were proud to fall with thee. | 8 | ········ |
| Now, shadows of the men we were, | 8 | ·/······ |
| Westward indeed we voyage here, | 8 | /˘˘/·/˘· |
| Unto the end of all the sea. | 8 | ········ |
| Woe! for the fatal, festal board: | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Woe! for the signal of the sword, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The wine-cup dashed upon the ground: | 8 | ········ |
| We are but sad, eternal ghosts, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Passing far off from human coasts, | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| To the wan land eternal bound. | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
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.