Part Second: Prelude
A cold, uninterrupted rain,That washed each southern window-pane,And made a river of the road;A sea of mist that overflowedThe house, the barns, the gilded vane,And drowned the upland and the plain,Through which the oak-trees, broad and high,Like phantom ships went drifting by;And, hidden behind a watery screen,The sun unseen, or only seenAs a faint pallor in the sky;--Thus cold and colorless and gray,The morn of that autumnal day,As if reluctant to begin,Dawned on the silent Sudbury Inn,And all the guests that in it lay.
Full late they slept. They did not hearThe challenge of Sir Chanticleer,Who on the empty threshing-floor,Disdainful of the rain outside,Was strutting with a martial stride,As if upon his thigh he woreThe famous broadsword of the Squire,And said, "Behold me, and admire!"
Only the Poet seemed to hear,In drowse or dream, more near and nearAcross the border-land of sleepThe blowing of a blithesome horn,That laughed the dismal day to scorn;A splash of hoofs and rush of wheelsThrough sand and mire like stranding keels,As from the road with sudden sweepThe Mail drove up the little steep,And stopped beside the tavern door;A moment stopped, and then againWith crack of whip and bark of dogPlunged forward through the sea of fog,And all was silent as before,--All silent save the dripping rain.
Then one by one the guests came down,And greeted with a smile the Squire,Who sat before the parlor fire,Reading the paper fresh from town.First the Sicilian, like a bird,Before his form appeared, was heardWhistling and singing down the stair;Then came the Student, with a lookAs placid as a meadow-brook;The Theologian, still perplexedWith thoughts of this world and the next;The Poet then, as one who seemsWalking in visions and in dreams;Then the Musician, like a fairHyperion from whose golden hairThe radiance of the morning streams;And last the aromatic JewOf Alicant, who, as he threwThe door wide open, on the airBreathed round about him a perfumeOf damask roses in full bloom,Making a garden of the room.
The breakfast ended, each pursuedThe promptings of his various mood;Beside the fire in silence smokedThe taciturn, impassive Jew,Lost in a pleasant revery;While, by his gravity provoked,His portrait the Sicilian drew,And wrote beneath it "Edrehi,At the Red Horse in Sudbury."
By far the busiest of them all,The Theologian in the hallWas feeding robins in a cage,--Two corpulent and lazy birds,Vagrants and pilferers at best,If one might trust the hostler's words,Chief instrument of their arrest;Two poets of the Golden Age,Heirs of a boundless heritageOf fields and orchards, east and west,And sunshine of long summer days,Though outlawed now and dispossessed!--Such was the Theologian's phrase.
Meanwhile the Student held discourseWith the Musician, on the sourceOf all the legendary loreAmong the nations, scattered wideLike silt and seaweed by the forceAnd fluctuation of the tide;The tale repeated o'er and o'er,With change of place and change of name,Disguised, transformed, and yet the sameWe've heard a hundred times before.
The Poet at the window mused,And saw, as in a dream confused,The countenance of the Sun, discrowned,And haggard with a pale despair,And saw the cloud-rack trail and driftBefore it, and the trees upliftTheir leafless branches, and the airFilled with the arrows of the rain,And heard amid the mist below,Like voices of distress and pain,That haunt the thoughts of men insane,The fateful cawings of the crow.
Then down the road, with mud besprent,And drenched with rain from head to hoof,The rain-drops dripping from his maneAnd tail as from a pent-house roof,A jaded horse, his head down bent,Passed slowly, limping as he went.
The young Sicilian--who had grownImpatient longer to abideA prisoner, greatly mortifiedTo see completely overthrownHis plans for angling in the brook,And, leaning o'er the bridge of stone,To watch the speckled trout glide by,And float through the inverted sky,Still round and round the baited hook--Now paced the room with rapid stride,And, pausing at the Poet's side,Looked forth, and saw the wretched steed,And said: "Alas for human greed,That with cold hand and stony eyeThus turns an old friend out to die,Or beg his food from gate to gate!This brings a tale into my mind,Which, if you are not disinclinedTo listen, I will now relate."
All gave assent; all wished to hear,Not without many a jest and jeer,The story of a spavined steed;And even the Student with the restPut in his pleasant little jestOut of Malherbe, that PegasusIs but a horse that with all speedBears poets to the hospital;While the Sicilian, self-possessed,After a moment's intervalBegan his simple story thus.
Words in this poem 38
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- unseen a.
- Not seen or discovered.
- pallor n.
- Paleness; want of color; pallidity; as, pallor of the complexion. Jer. Taylor. [L., fr. pallere to be or look pale. See Pale, a.]
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- chanticleer n.
- A cock, so called from the clearness or loundness of his voice in crowing. [F. Chanteclair, name of the cock in the Roman du Renart (Reynard the Fox); chanter to chant + clair clear. See Chant, and Clear.]
- stride v. t.
- To walk with long steps, especially in a measured or pompous manner. [AS. stridan to stride, to strive; akin to LG. striden, OFries. strida to strive, D. strijden to strive, to contend, G. streiten, OHG. stritan; of uncertain orig]
- broadsword n.
- A sword with a broad blade and a cutting edge; a claymore.
- admire v. t.
- To regard with wonder or astonishment; to view with surprise; to marvel at. [F. admirer, fr. L. admirari; ad + mirari to wonder, for smirari, akin to Gr. smi, and E. smile.]
- drowse v. i.
- To sleep imperfectly or unsoundly; to slumber; to be heavy with sleepiness; to doze. [AS. dr, dr, to sink, become slow or inactive; cf. OD. droosen to be sleepy, fall asleep, LG. dr, druusken, to slumber, fall down with a noise; prob, akin to AS.]
- blithesome a.
- Cheery; gay; merry.
- dismal a.
- Fatal; ill-omened; unlucky. [Formerly a noun; e. g., "I trow it was in the dismalle." Chaucer. Of uncertain origin; but perh. (as suggested by Skeat) from OF. disme, F. dîme, tithe, the phr]
- keels n.
- Ninepins. See Kayles.
- drove n.
- A collection of cattle driven, or cattle collected for driving; a number of animals, as oxen, sheep, or swine, driven in a body. [AS. draf, fr. drifan to drive. See Drive.]
- dripping n.
- A falling in drops, or the sound so made.
- sicilian a.
- Of or pertaining to Sicily or its inhabitants. Sicilian vespers, the great massacre of the French in Sicily, in the year 1282, on the evening of Easter Monday, at the hour of vespers.
- placid a.
- Pleased; contented; unruffied; undisturbed; serene; peaceful; tranquil; quiet; gentle. [L. placidus, originally, pleasing, mild, from placere to please: cf. F. placide. See Please.]
- hyperion n.
- The god of the sun; in the later mythology identified with Apollo, and distinguished for his beauty.
- alicant n.
- A kind of wine, formerly much esteemed; -- said to have been made near Alicant, in Spain. J. Fletcher.
- taciturn a.
- Habitually silent; not given to converse; not apt to talk or speak. [L. taciturnus: cf. F. taciturne. See Tacit.]
- impassive a.
- Not susceptible of pain or suffering; apathetic; impassible; unmoved.
- revery n.
- A loose or irregular train of thought occurring in musing or mediation; deep musing; daydream. [F. réverie, fr. rêver to dream, rave, be light-headed. Cf. Rave.]
- wrote v. i.
- To root with the snout. See 1st Root. [OE. wroten. See 1st Root.]
- heritage a.
- That which is inherited, or passes from heir to heir; inheritance. [OE. heritage, eritage, OF. heritage, eritage, F. héritage, fr. hériter to inherit, LL. heriditare. See Hereditable.]
- 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.
- meanwhile n.
- The intervening time; as, in the meantime (or mean time).
- silt n.
- Mud or fine earth deposited from running or standing water. [OE. silte gravel, fr. silen to drain, E. sile; probably of Scand. origin; cf. Sw. sila, prob. akin to AS. seón to filter, sigan to fall, sink, cause to sink, G.]
- fluctuation n.
- A motion like that of waves; a moving in this and that direction; as, the fluctuations of the sea. [L. fluctuatio; cf. F. fluctuation.]
- haggard a.
- Wild or intractable; disposed to break away from duty; untamed; as, a haggard or refractory hawk. Shak [F. hagard; of German origin, and prop. meaning, of the hegde or woods, wild, untamed. See Hedge, 1st Haw, and -ard.]
- uplift v. t.
- To lift or raise aloft; to raise; to elevate; as, to uplift the arm; to uplift a rock.
- amid 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]
- fateful a.
- Having the power of serving or accomplishing fate.
- besprent p. p.
- Sprinkled over; strewed. [OE. bespreynt, p. p. of besprengen, bisprengen, to besprinkle, AS. besprengan, akin to D. & G. besprengen; pref. be- + sprengan to sprinkle. See Sprinkle.]
- pent p. p.
- Penned or shut up; confined; -- often with up. [From Pen, v. t.]
- steed n.
- A horse, especially a spirited horse for state of war; -- used chiefly in poetry or stately prose. [OE. stede, AS. steda a stud-horse, war horse, fr. stod a stud of breeding steeds; akin to G. stute a mare, Icel. stedda, sto, a stud. *163. See Stud of horses.]
- greed n.
- An eager desire or longing; greediness; as, a greed of gain. [Akin to Goth. grdus hunger, Icel. graedhr. sq. root34. See Greedy.]
- jest n.
- A deed; an action; a gest. [OE. jeste, geste, deed, action, story, tale, OF. geste, LL. gesta, orig., exploits, neut. pl. from L. gestus, p. p. of gerere to bear, carry, accomplish, perfor]
- spavined a.
- Affected with spavin.
- hospital n.
- A place for shelter or entertainment; an inn. [OF. hospital, ospital, F. hôpital, LL. hospitale (or perh. E. hospital is directly from the Late Latin), from L. hospitalis relating to a guest, hospitalia apar]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Part Second: Prelude is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Project Gutenberg ebook #1365; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Part Second: Prelude, in The Complete Poetical Works (1839–1882), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1365, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/longfellow-poems/part-second-prelude.html, id L17677.
Form and metre
Part Second: Prelude is 141 lines in 11 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%). 89% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.4 syllables. 21 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 32% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 AABBAACCDDCEEFFE rainA · paneA · roadB · overflowedB · vaneA · plainA · highC · byC · screenD · seenD · skyC · grayE · dayE · beginF · innF · layE
- 2 AABCCBDD hearA · chanticleerA · floorB · outsideC · strideC · woreB · squireD · admireD
- 3 AABCCDDBBEFGGEF hearA · nearA · sleepB · hornC · scornC · wheelsD · keelsD · sweepB · steepB · doorE · againF · dogG · fogG · beforeE · rainF
- 4 ABBACCDEEFFGGDDGHHDIII downA · squireB · fireB · townA · birdC · heardC · stairD · lookE · brookE · perplexedF · nextF · seemsG · dreamsG · fairD · hairD · streamsG · jewH · threwH · airD · perfumeI · bloomI · roomI
- 5 AABC-BC-- pursuedA · moodA · smokedB · jewC · revery · provokedB · drewC · edrehi · sudbury
- 6 AABCDCDBBDEDE allA · hallA · cageB · birdsC · bestD · wordsC · arrestD · ageB · heritageB · westD · daysE · dispossessedD · phraseE
- 7 AABCAC-DDB discourseA · sourceA · loreB · wideC · forceA · tideC · o'er · nameD · sameD · beforeB
- 8 AA-BCCBDEDDE musedA · confusedA · discrowned · despairB · driftC · upliftC · airB · rainD · belowE · painD · insaneD · crowE
- 9 AB-BAA besprentA · hoofB · mane · roofB · bentA · wentA
- 10 ABBACADDCBBEEDDFGGF grownA · abideB · mortifiedB · overthrownA · brookC · stoneA · byD · skyD · hookC · strideB · sideB · steedE · greedE · eyeD · dieD · gateF · mindG · disinclinedG · relateF
- 11 AABCC-B-C-- hearA · jeerA · steedB · restC · jestC · pegasus · speedB · hospital · possessedC · interval · thus
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 |
|---|---|---|
| A cold, uninterrupted rain, | 8 | ···˘˘/˘· |
| That washed each southern window-pane, | 9 | ··˘·/˘/˘· |
| And made a river of the road; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| A sea of mist that overflowed | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| The house, the barns, the gilded vane, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And drowned the upland and the plain, | 9 | ··˘·/˘··· |
| Through which the oak-trees, broad and high, | 8 | ········ |
| Like phantom ships went drifting by; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| And, hidden behind a watery screen, | 10 | ·/˘···/˘˘· |
| The sun unseen, or only seen | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| As a faint pallor in the sky;-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Thus cold and colorless and gray, | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| The morn of that autumnal day, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| As if reluctant to begin, | 8 | ··˘/˘·˘/ |
| Dawned on the silent Sudbury Inn, | 10 | ·˘··/˘/·˘· |
| And all the guests that in it lay. | 8 | ········ |
| Full late they slept. They did not hear | 8 | ········ |
| The challenge of Sir Chanticleer, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| Who on the empty threshing-floor, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Disdainful of the rain outside, | 8 | ˘/˘···// |
| Was strutting with a martial stride, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| As if upon his thigh he wore | 8 | ········ |
| The famous broadsword of the Squire, | 8 | ·/˘/···· |
| And said, "Behold me, and admire!" | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| Only the Poet seemed to hear, | 9 | /˘·/˘·˘·· |
| In drowse or dream, more near and near | 8 | ········ |
| Across the border-land of sleep | 8 | ˘/·/˘··· |
| The blowing of a blithesome horn, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| That laughed the dismal day to scorn; | 9 | ··˘·/˘··· |
| A splash of hoofs and rush of wheels | 8 | ········ |
| Through sand and mire like stranding keels, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| As from the road with sudden sweep | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The Mail drove up the little steep, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And stopped beside the tavern door; | 9 | ··˘˘/·/˘· |
| A moment stopped, and then again | 9 | ·/˘·˘··˘/ |
| With crack of whip and bark of dog | 8 | ········ |
| Plunged forward through the sea of fog, | 9 | ·˘/˘····· |
| And all was silent as before,-- | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| All silent save the dripping rain. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Then one by one the guests came down, | 8 | ········ |
| And greeted with a smile the Squire, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Who sat before the parlor fire, | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Reading the paper fresh from town. | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| First the Sicilian, like a bird, | 9 | ··˘/˘˘··· |
| Before his form appeared, was heard | 9 | ····˘/˘·· |
| Whistling and singing down the stair; | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| Then came the Student, with a look | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| As placid as a meadow-brook; | 8 | ·/˘··/·· |
| The Theologian, still perplexed | 10 | ··˘/˘˘·˘/˘ |
| With thoughts of this world and the next; | 8 | ········ |
| The Poet then, as one who seems | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Walking in visions and in dreams; | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| Then the Musician, like a fair | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Hyperion from whose golden hair | 9 | ˘/˘˘··/˘· |
| The radiance of the morning streams; | 9 | ·/˘˘··/˘· |
| And last the aromatic Jew | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Of Alicant, who, as he threw | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| The door wide open, on the air | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Breathed round about him a perfume | 9 | ·˘·····˘/ |
| Of damask roses in full bloom, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Making a garden of the room. | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| The breakfast ended, each pursued | 9 | ·/˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| The promptings of his various mood; | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| Beside the fire in silence smoked | 10 | ˘/·/˘·/˘·˘ |
| The taciturn, impassive Jew, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Lost in a pleasant revery; | 8 | ···/˘/˘˘ |
| While, by his gravity provoked, | 9 | ···/˘˘˘/˘ |
| His portrait the Sicilian drew, | 9 | ·/˘·˘/˘˘· |
| And wrote beneath it "Edrehi, | 8 | ········ |
| At the Red Horse in Sudbury." | 8 | ·····/·˘ |
| By far the busiest of them all, | 9 | ···/˘˘··· |
| The Theologian in the hall | 9 | ··˘/˘˘··· |
| Was feeding robins in a cage,-- | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Two corpulent and lazy birds, | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘· |
| Vagrants and pilferers at best, | 8 | /˘······ |
| If one might trust the hostler's words, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Chief instrument of their arrest; | 8 | ·/˘˘··˘/ |
| Two poets of the Golden Age, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Heirs of a boundless heritage | 8 | ···/˘/˘˘ |
| Of fields and orchards, east and west, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And sunshine of long summer days, | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| Though outlawed now and dispossessed!-- | 10 | ·/·˘···˘/˘ |
| Such was the Theologian's phrase. | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Meanwhile the Student held discourse | 8 | /··/˘·/˘ |
| With the Musician, on the source | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Of all the legendary lore | 8 | ···/˘·˘· |
| Among the nations, scattered wide | 9 | ···/˘/˘˘· |
| Like silt and seaweed by the force | 8 | ···/···· |
| And fluctuation of the tide; | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| The tale repeated o'er and o'er, | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| With change of place and change of name, | 8 | ········ |
| Disguised, transformed, and yet the same | 10 | ˘/˘˘/˘···· |
| We've heard a hundred times before. | 9 | ···/˘˘··· |
| The Poet at the window mused, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘·˘ |
| And saw, as in a dream confused, | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| The countenance of the Sun, discrowned, | 10 | ·/˘˘·····˘ |
| And haggard with a pale despair, | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| And saw the cloud-rack trail and drift | 8 | ········ |
| Before it, and the trees uplift | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Their leafless branches, and the air | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Filled with the arrows of the rain, | 9 | ·˘··/˘··· |
| And heard amid the mist below, | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| Like voices of distress and pain, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| That haunt the thoughts of men insane, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| The fateful cawings of the crow. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Then down the road, with mud besprent, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And drenched with rain from head to hoof, | 9 | ··˘······ |
| The rain-drops dripping from his mane | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And tail as from a pent-house roof, | 8 | ········ |
| A jaded horse, his head down bent, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Passed slowly, limping as he went. | 9 | ·˘/˘/˘··· |
| The young Sicilian--who had grown | 9 | ··˘/˘˘··· |
| Impatient longer to abide | 8 | ˘/˘/˘·˘/ |
| A prisoner, greatly mortified | 9 | ·/˘˘/˘/˘· |
| To see completely overthrown | 8 | ··˘/˘·˘/ |
| His plans for angling in the brook, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And, leaning o'er the bridge of stone, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| To watch the speckled trout glide by, | 9 | ···/˘˘··· |
| And float through the inverted sky, | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Still round and round the baited hook-- | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Now paced the room with rapid stride, | 9 | ··˘···/˘· |
| And, pausing at the Poet's side, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Looked forth, and saw the wretched steed, | 9 | ·˘····/˘· |
| And said: "Alas for human greed, | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| That with cold hand and stony eye | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Thus turns an old friend out to die, | 8 | ········ |
| Or beg his food from gate to gate! | 8 | ········ |
| This brings a tale into my mind, | 8 | ········ |
| Which, if you are not disinclined | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| To listen, I will now relate." | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| All gave assent; all wished to hear, | 9 | ··˘/··˘·· |
| Not without many a jest and jeer, | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| The story of a spavined steed; | 9 | ·/˘··/˘˘· |
| And even the Student with the rest | 9 | ·/˘·/˘··· |
| Put in his pleasant little jest | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Out of Malherbe, that Pegasus | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Is but a horse that with all speed | 8 | ········ |
| Bears poets to the hospital; | 8 | ·/˘··/·˘ |
| While the Sicilian, self-possessed, | 10 | ··˘/˘˘·˘/˘ |
| After a moment's interval | 8 | ···/˘/˘˘ |
| Began his simple story thus. | 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.