The Armies of the Wilderness I
Like snows the camps on southern hillsLay all the winter long,Our levies there in patience stood--They stood in patience strong.On fronting slopes gleamed other campsWhere faith as firmly clung:Ah, froward king! so brave miss--The zealots of the Wrong.
In this strife of brothers(God, hear their country call),However it be, whatever betide,Let not the just one fall.
Through the pointed glass our soldiers sawThe base-ball bounding sent;They could have joined them in their sportBut for the vale’s deep rent.And others turned the reddish soil,Like diggers of graves they bent:The reddish soil and tranching toilBegat presentiment.
Did the Fathers feel mistrust?Can no final good be wrought?Over and over, again and againMust the fight for the Right be fought?
They lead a Gray-back to the crag:“Your earth-works yonder--tell us, man”“A prisoner--no deserter, I,Nor one of the tell-tale clan”His rags they mark: “True-blue like youShould wear the color--your Country’s, man”He grinds his teeth: “However that be,Yon earth-works have their plan.”
Such brave ones, foully snaredBy Belial’s wily plea,Were faithful unto the evil end--Feudal fidelity.
“Well, then, your camps--come, tell the names”Freely he leveled his finger then:“Yonder--see--are our Georgians; on the crest,The Carolinians; lower, past the glen,Virginians--Alabamians--Mississippians--Kentuckians(Follow my finger)--Tennesseeans; and the tenCamps there--ask your grave-pits; they’ll tell.Halloa! I see the picket-hut, the denWhere I last night lay.” “Where’s Lee”“In the hearts and bayonets of all yon men!”
The tribes swarm up to warAs in ages long ago,Ere the palm of promise leavedAnd the lily of Christ did blow.
Their mounted pickets for miles are spiedDotting the lowland plain,The nearer ones in their veteran-rags--Loutish they loll in lazy disdain.But ours in perilous places bideWith rifles ready and eyes that strainDeep through the dim suspected woodWhere the Rapidan rolls amain.
The Indian has passed away,But creeping comes another--Deadlier far. Picket,Take heed--take heed of thy brother!
From a wood-hung height, an outpost lone,Crowned with a woodman’s fort,The sentinel looks on a land of dole,Like Paran, all amort.Black chimneys, gigantic in moor-like wastes,The scowl of the clouded sky retort;The hearth is a houseless stone again--Ah! where shall the people be sought?
Since the venom such blastment deals,The south should have paused, and thrice,Ere with heat of her hate she hatchedThe egg with the cockatrice.
A path down the mountain winds to the gladeWhere the dead of the Moonlight Fight lie low;A hand reaches out of the thin-laid mouldAs begging help which none can bestow.But the field-mouse small and busy antHeap their hillocks, to hide if they may the woe:By the bubbling spring lies the rusted canteen,And the drum which the drummer-boy dying let go.
Dust to dust, and blood for blood--Passion and pangs! Has TimeGone back? or is this the AgeOf the world’s great Prime?
The wagon mired and cannon draggedHave trenched their scar; the plainTramped like the cindery beach of the damned--A site for the city of Cain.And stumps of forests for dreary leaguesLike a massacre show. The armies have lainBy fires where gums and balms did burn,And the seeds of Summer’s reign.
Where are the birds and boys?Who shall go chestnutting whenOctober returns? The nuts--O, long ere they grow again.
They snug their huts with the chapel-pews,In court-houses stable their steeds--Kindle their fires with indentures and bonds,And old Lord Fairfax’s parchment deeds;And Virginian gentlemen’s libraries old--Books which only the scholar heeds--Are flung to his kennel. It is ravage and range,And gardens are left to weeds.
Turned adrift into warMan runs wild on the plain,Like the jennets let looseOn the Pampas--zebras again.
Like the Pleiads dim, see the tents through the storm--Aloft by the hill-side hamlet’s graves,On a head-stone used for a hearth-stone thereThe water is bubbling for punch for our braves.What if the night be drear, and the blastGhostly shrieks? their rollicking stavesMake frolic the heart; beating time with their swords,What care they if Winter raves?
Is life but a dream? and so,In the dream do men laugh aloud?So strange seems mirth in a camp,So like a white tent to a shroud.
Words in this poem 33
- clung a.
- Wasted away; shrunken. [Prop. p. p. fr. OE. clingen to wither. See Cling, v. i.]
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- betide v. t.
- To happen to; to befall; to come to ; as, woe betide the wanderer. [OE. bitiden; pref. bi-, be- + tiden, fr. AS. tidan, to happen, fr. tid time. See Tide.]
- vale n.
- A tract of low ground, or of land between hills; a valley. [OE. val, F. val, L. vallis; perhaps akin to Gr. Avalanche, Vail to lower, Valley.]
- diggers n.
- A degraded tribe of California Indians; -- so called from their practice of digging roots for food.
- crag n.
- The neck or throat [A form of craw: cf. D. kraag neck, collar, G. kragen. See Craw.]
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
- foully v.
- In a foul manner; filthily; nastily; shamefully; unfairly; dishonorably.
- picket n.
- A stake sharpened or pointed, especially one used in fortification and encampments, to mark bounds and angles; or one used for tethering horses. [F. piquet, properly dim. of pique spear, pike. See Pike, and cf. Piquet.]
- lowland n.
- Land which is low with respect to the neighboring country; a low or level country; -- opposed to highland. The Lowlands, Belgium and Holland; the Netherlands; also, the southern part of Scotland.
- loutish a.
- Clownish; rude; awkward.
- loll v. i.
- To act lazily or indolently; to recline; to lean; to throw one's self down; to lie at ease. [Cf. Icel. lolla to act lazily, loll, lolla, laziness, OD. lollen to sit over the fire, and E. lull. Cf. Lill, Lull.]
- bide v. i.
- To dwell; to inhabit; to abide; to stay. [OE. biden, AS. bidan; akin to OHG. bitan, Goth. beidan, Icel. bi; perh. orig., to wait with trust, and akin to bid. See Bid, v. t., and cf. Abide.]
- amain adv.
- With might; with full force; vigorously; violently; exceedingly. [Pref. a- + main. See 2d Main, n.]
- lone n.
- A lane. See Loanin.
- amort a.
- As if dead; lifeless; spiritless; dejected; depressed. [Pref. a- + F. mort death, dead; all amort is for alamort.]
- scowl v. i.
- To wrinkle the brows, as in frowning or displeasure; to put on a frowning look; to look sour, sullen, severe, or angry. [Akin to Dan. skule; cf. Icel. skolla to skulk, LG. schulen to hide one's self, D. schuilen, G. schielen to squint, Dan. skele, Sw. skela, AS. sceolh squinting. ]
- houseless a.
- Destitute of the shelter of a house; shelterless; homeless; as, a houseless wanderer.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- blastment n.
- A sudden stroke or injury produced by some destructive cause.
- cockatrice n.
- A fabulous serpent whose breath and look were said to be fatal.
- glade n.
- An open passage through a wood; a grassy open or cleared space in a forest. [Prob. of Scand. origin, and akin to glad, a.; cf. also W. golead, goleuad, a lighting, illumination, fr. goleu light, clear, bright, goleu fwlch glade, lit., a ]
- mould n.
- Crumbling, soft, friable earth; esp., earth containing the remains or constituents of organic matter, and suited to the growth of plants; soil. [OE. molde, AS. molde; akin to D. mul, G. mull, mulm, OHG. molt, molta, Icel. mold, Dan. muld, Sw. mull, Goth. mulda, and E. meal flour. See Meal, and cf. Mole a]
- canteen n.
- A vessel used by soldiers for carrying water, liquor, or other drink. [F. cantine bottle case, canteen (cf. Sp. & It. cantina cellar, bottle case), either contr. fr. It. canovettina, dim. of canova cellar, or, more likely, fr. OF. ]
- cindery a.
- Resembling, or composed of, cinders; full of cinders.
- damned a.
- Sentenced to punishment in a future state; condemned; consigned to perdition.
- dreary a.
- Sorrowful; distressful. [OE. dreori, dreri, AS. dreórig, sad; akin to G. traurig, and prob. to AS. dreósan to fall, Goth. driusan. Cf. Dross, Drear, Drizzle, Drowse.]
- massacre n.
- The killing of a considerable number of human beings under circumstances of atrocity or cruelty, or contrary to the usages of civilized people; as, the massacre on St. Bartholomew's Day. [F., fr. LL. mazacrium; cf. Prov. G. metzgern, metzgen, to kill cattle, G. metzger a butcher, and LG. matsken to cut, hew, OHG. meizan to cut, Goth. máitan.]
- kennel n.
- The water course of a street; a little canal or channel; a gutter; also, a puddle. Bp. Hall. [See Channel, Canal.]
- adrift adv.
- Floating at random; in a drifting condition; at the mercy of wind and waves. Also fig. [Pref. a- (for on) + drift.]
- drear n.
- Sadness; dismalness.
- ghostly a.
- Relating to the soul; not carnal or secular; spiritual; as, a ghostly confessor. [OE. gastlich, gostlich, AS. gastlic. See Ghost.]
- aloud adv.
- With a loud voice, or great noise; loudly; audibly. [Pref. a- + loud.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Armies of the Wilderness I is in the public domain. This text is taken from Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War, Project Gutenberg ebook #12384; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Herman Melville, The Armies of the Wilderness I, in Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War (1866), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #12384, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/melville-battle-pieces/the-armies-of-the-wilderness-i.html, id L00913.
Form and metre
The Armies of the Wilderness I is 122 lines in 20 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 79%).
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 -A-A---A hills · longA · stood · strongA · camps · clung · miss · wrongA
- 2 -A-A brothers · callA · betide · fallA
- 3 -A-ABABA saw · sentA · sport · rentA · soilB · bentA · toilB · presentimentA
- 4 -A-A mistrust · wroughtA · again · foughtA
- 5 -ABA-ABA crag · manA · iB · clanA · you · manA · beB · planA
- 7 -A-A-A-A-A names · thenA · crest · glenA · kentuckians · tenA · tell · denA · lee · menA
- 8 -A-A war · agoA · leaved · blowA
- 9 AB-BAB-B spiedA · plainB · rags · disdainB · bideA · strainB · wood · amainB
- 10 -A-A away · anotherA · picket · brotherA
- 11 -A-A-A-- lone · fortA · dole · amortA · wastes · retortA · again · sought
- 13 -A-A-A-A glade · lowA · mould · bestowA · ant · woeA · canteen · goA
- 14 -A-A blood · timeA · age · primeA
- 15 -A-A-A-A dragged · plainA · damned · cainA · leagues · lainA · burn · reignA
- 16 -A-A boys · whenA · nuts · againA
- 17 -A-A-A-A pews · steedsA · bonds · deedsA · old · heedsA · range · weedsA
- 18 -A-A war · plainA · loose · againA
- 19 -A-A-A-A storm · gravesA · there · bravesA · blast · stavesA · swords · ravesA
- 20 -A-A so · aloudA · camp · shroudA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Like snows the camps on southern hills | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Lay all the winter long, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Our levies there in patience stood-- | 8 | //˘··/˘· |
| They stood in patience strong. | 6 | ···/˘· |
| On fronting slopes gleamed other camps | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Where faith as firmly clung: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Ah, froward king! so brave miss-- | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| The zealots of the Wrong. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| In this strife of brothers | 6 | ····/˘ |
| (God, hear their country call), | 6 | ···/˘· |
| However it be, whatever betide, | 10 | ·/˘···/˘˘/ |
| Let not the just one fall. | 6 | ······ |
| Through the pointed glass our soldiers saw | 9 | ··/˘·//˘· |
| The base-ball bounding sent; | 6 | ···/˘· |
| They could have joined them in their sport | 8 | ········ |
| But for the vale’s deep rent. | 6 | ······ |
| And others turned the reddish soil, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Like diggers of graves they bent: | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| The reddish soil and tranching toil | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Begat presentiment. | 6 | ˘/˘/˘˘ |
| Did the Fathers feel mistrust? | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Can no final good be wrought? | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Over and over, again and again | 8 | ···˘/·˘/ |
| Must the fight for the Right be fought? | 8 | ········ |
| They lead a Gray-back to the crag: | 8 | ········ |
| “Your earth-works yonder--tell us, man” | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| “A prisoner--no deserter, I, | 8 | ·/˘·/˘˘· |
| Nor one of the tell-tale clan” | 7 | ······· |
| His rags they mark: “True-blue like you | 8 | ········ |
| Should wear the color--your Country’s, man” | 9 | ···/˘·/˘· |
| He grinds his teeth: “However that be, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Yon earth-works have their plan.” | 6 | ······ |
| Such brave ones, foully snared | 7 | ···/˘·˘ |
| By Belial’s wily plea, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Were faithful unto the evil end-- | 8 | ·/˘···/· |
| Feudal fidelity. | 6 | /˘·/˘˘ |
| “Well, then, your camps--come, tell the names” | 8 | ········ |
| Freely he leveled his finger then: | 9 | /˘·/˘·/˘· |
| “Yonder--see--are our Georgians; on the crest, | 10 | /˘··//˘··· |
| The Carolinians; lower, past the glen, | 9 | ··˘/˘/··· |
| Virginians--Alabamians--Mississippians--Kentuckians | 14 | ˘/˘·····˘/˘·/˘ |
| (Follow my finger)--Tennesseeans; and the ten | 11 | /˘·/˘······ |
| Camps there--ask your grave-pits; they’ll tell. | 8 | ········ |
| Halloa! I see the picket-hut, the den | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| Where I last night lay.” “Where’s Lee” | 7 | ······· |
| “In the hearts and bayonets of all yon men!” | 11 | ····/˘····· |
| The tribes swarm up to war | 6 | ······ |
| As in ages long ago, | 7 | ··/˘·˘/ |
| Ere the palm of promise leaved | 8 | ····/˘·˘ |
| And the lily of Christ did blow. | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| Their mounted pickets for miles are spied | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Dotting the lowland plain, | 6 | /˘·/·· |
| The nearer ones in their veteran-rags-- | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| Loutish they loll in lazy disdain. | 9 | /˘···/˘˘/ |
| But ours in perilous places bide | 8 | ·/·/˘/˘· |
| With rifles ready and eyes that strain | 9 | ·/˘/˘···· |
| Deep through the dim suspected wood | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Where the Rapidan rolls amain. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| The Indian has passed away, | 8 | ·/˘˘··˘/ |
| But creeping comes another-- | 7 | ·/˘·˘/˘ |
| Deadlier far. Picket, | 6 | /˘˘·/˘ |
| Take heed--take heed of thy brother! | 8 | ······/˘ |
| From a wood-hung height, an outpost lone, | 9 | ······/·· |
| Crowned with a woodman’s fort, | 7 | ·˘··/˘· |
| The sentinel looks on a land of dole, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Like Paran, all amort. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Black chimneys, gigantic in moor-like wastes, | 10 | ·/˘˘/˘···· |
| The scowl of the clouded sky retort; | 9 | ····/˘·/· |
| The hearth is a houseless stone again-- | 9 | ····/˘·˘/ |
| Ah! where shall the people be sought? | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Since the venom such blastment deals, | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| The south should have paused, and thrice, | 8 | ·····˘·· |
| Ere with heat of her hate she hatched | 8 | ········ |
| The egg with the cockatrice. | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| A path down the mountain winds to the glade | 10 | ····/˘···· |
| Where the dead of the Moonlight Fight lie low; | 10 | ·····/···· |
| A hand reaches out of the thin-laid mould | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| As begging help which none can bestow. | 9 | ·/˘····˘/ |
| But the field-mouse small and busy ant | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Heap their hillocks, to hide if they may the woe: | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| By the bubbling spring lies the rusted canteen, | 11 | ··/˘···/˘˘/ |
| And the drum which the drummer-boy dying let go. | 12 | ·····/˘·/˘·· |
| Dust to dust, and blood for blood-- | 7 | ······· |
| Passion and pangs! Has Time | 6 | /˘···· |
| Gone back? or is this the Age | 7 | ······· |
| Of the world’s great Prime? | 5 | ····· |
| The wagon mired and cannon dragged | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Have trenched their scar; the plain | 7 | ··˘···· |
| Tramped like the cindery beach of the damned-- | 10 | ···/˘˘···· |
| A site for the city of Cain. | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| And stumps of forests for dreary leagues | 9 | ···/˘·/˘· |
| Like a massacre show. The armies have lain | 10 | ··/˘··/˘·· |
| By fires where gums and balms did burn, | 8 | ·/······ |
| And the seeds of Summer’s reign. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Where are the birds and boys? | 6 | ······ |
| Who shall go chestnutting when | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| October returns? The nuts-- | 7 | ˘/˘˘/·· |
| O, long ere they grow again. | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| They snug their huts with the chapel-pews, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| In court-houses stable their steeds-- | 8 | ··/˘/˘·· |
| Kindle their fires with indentures and bonds, | 10 | /˘·/·˘/˘·· |
| And old Lord Fairfax’s parchment deeds; | 9 | ···/·˘/˘· |
| And Virginian gentlemen’s libraries old-- | 11 | ·˘/˘/˘·/·˘· |
| Books which only the scholar heeds-- | 8 | ··/˘·/˘· |
| Are flung to his kennel. It is ravage and range, | 12 | ····/˘··/˘·· |
| And gardens are left to weeds. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Turned adrift into war | 7 | ·˘˘/··· |
| Man runs wild on the plain, | 6 | ······ |
| Like the jennets let loose | 6 | ······ |
| On the Pampas--zebras again. | 8 | ··/˘/˘˘/ |
| Like the Pleiads dim, see the tents through the storm-- | 11 | ··/˘······· |
| Aloft by the hill-side hamlet’s graves, | 9 | ˘/····/˘· |
| On a head-stone used for a hearth-stone there | 10 | ·········· |
| The water is bubbling for punch for our braves. | 11 | ·/˘·/˘···/· |
| What if the night be drear, and the blast | 9 | ········· |
| Ghostly shrieks? their rollicking staves | 8 | /˘··/˘˘· |
| Make frolic the heart; beating time with their swords, | 11 | ·/˘··/˘···· |
| What care they if Winter raves? | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Is life but a dream? and so, | 7 | ······· |
| In the dream do men laugh aloud? | 8 | ······˘/ |
| So strange seems mirth in a camp, | 7 | ······· |
| So like a white tent to a shroud. | 8 | ········ |
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