Vicissitudes of the War
The damaged gun-boats can’t wage fightFor days; so says the Commodore.Thus no diversion can be had.Under a sunless sky of leadOur grim-faced boys in blacked plightGaze toward the ground they held before,And then on Grant. He marks their mood,And hails it, and will turn the same to good.Spite all that they have undergone,Their desperate hearts are set uponThis winter fort, this stubborn fort,This castle of the last resort,This Donelson.
An order givenRequires withdrawal from the frontOf regiments that bore the bruntOf morning’s fray. Their ranks all rivenAre being replaced by fresh, strong men.Great vigilance in the foeman’s Den;He snuffs the stormers. Need it isThat for that fell assault of his,That rout inflicted, and self-scorn--Immoderate in noble natures, tornBy sense of being through slackness overborne--The rebel be given a quick return:The kindest face looks now half stern.Balked of their prey in airs that freeze,Some fierce ones glare like savages.And yet, and yet, strange moments are--Well--blood, and tears, and anguished War!The morning’s battle-ground is seenIn lifted glades, like meadows rare;The blood-drops on the snow-crust thereLike clover in the white-week show--Flushed fields of death, that call again--Call to our men, and not in vain,For that way must the stormers go.
The work begins.Light drifts of men thrown forward, fadeIn skirmish-line along the slope,Where some dislodgments must be madeEre the stormer with the strong-hold cope.
Lew Wallace, moving to retakeThe heights late lost--(Herewith a break.Storms at the West derange the wires.Doubtless, ere morning, we shall hearThe end; we look for news to cheer--Let Hope fan all her fires.)
Next day in large bold hand was seenThe closing bulletin:
VICTORY!Our troops have retrieved the dayBy one grand surge along the line;The spirit that urged them was divine.The first works flooded, naught could stayThe stormers: on! still on!Bayonets for Donelson!
Over the ground that morning lostRolled the blue billows, tempest-tossed,Following a hat on the point of a sword.Spite shell and round-shot, grape and canister,Up they climbed without rail or banister--Up the steep hill-sides long and broad,Driving the rebel deep within his works.’Tis nightfall; not an enemy lurksIn sight. The chafing menFret for more fight:“To-night, to-night let us take the Den”But night is treacherous, Grant is wary;Of brave blood be a little chary.Patience! the Fort is good as won;To-morrow, and into Donelson.
Words in this poem 18
- wage v. i.
- To bind one's self; to engage.
- commodore n.
- An officer who ranks next above a captain; sometimes, by courtesy, the senior captain of a squadron. The rank of commodore corresponds with that of brigadier general in the army. [Prob. a corruption of commander, or Sp. comendador a knight of a military order who holds a commandery; also a superior of a monastery;, fr. LL. commendare to c]
- sunless a.
- Destitute or deprived of the sun or its rays; shaded; shadowed.
- plight v. t.
- To weave; to braid; to fold; to plait. [OE. pliten; probably through Old French, fr. LL. plectare, L. plectere. See Plait, Ply.]
- desperate a.
- Without hope; given to despair; hopeless. [L. desperatus, p. p. of desperare. See Despair, and cf. Desperado.]
- brunt n.
- The heat, or utmost violence, of an onset; the strength or greatest fury of any contention; as, the brunt of a battle. [OE. brunt, bront, fr. Icel. bruna to rush; cf. Icel. brenna to burn. Cf. Burn, v. t.]
- foeman n.
- An enemy in war. [AS. fhman.]
- slackness n.
- The quality or state of being slack.
- rebel a.
- Pertaining to rebels or rebellion; acting in revolt; rebellious; as, rebel troops. [F. rebelle, fr. L. rebellis. See Rebel, v. t.]
- glare v. i.
- To shine with a bright, dazzling light. [OE. glaren, gloren; cf. AS. glær amber, LG. glaren to glow or burn like coals, D. gloren to glimmer; prob. akin to E. glass.]
- retake v. t.
- To take or receive again.
- doubtless a.
- Free from fear or suspicion.
- 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,]
- bulletin n.
- A brief statement of facts respecting some passing event, as military operations or the health of some distinguished personage, issued by authority for the information of the public. [F. bulletin, fr. It. bullettino, dim. of bulletta, dim. of bulla, bolla, an edict of the pope, from L. bulla bubble. See Bull an edict.]
- canister n.
- A small basket of rushes, or wilow twigs, etc. [L. canistrum a basket woven from reeds Gr. canistre. See Cane, and Canaster.]
- banister n.
- A stringed musical instrument having a head and neck like the guitar, and its body like a tambourine. It has five strings, and is played with the fingers and hands. [Formerly also banjore and banjer; corrupted from bandore, through negro slave pronunciation.]
- nightfall n.
- The close of the day.
- chary a.
- Careful; wary; cautious; not rash, reckless, or spendthrift; saving; frugal. [AS. cearig careful, fr. cearu care. See Care.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Vicissitudes of the War 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, Vicissitudes of the War, in Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War (1866), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #12384, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/melville-battle-pieces/vicissitudes-of-the-war.html, id L00909.
Form and metre
Vicissitudes of the War is 73 lines in 7 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.8 syllables. 14 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 30% 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 AB--AB--CCDDC fightA · commodoreB · had · lead · plightA · beforeB · mood · good · undergoneC · uponC · fortD · resortD · donelsonC
- 2 ABBACCDDEEEFFGG---HHIC-I givenA · frontB · bruntB · rivenA · menC · denC · isD · hisD · scornE · tornE · overborneE · returnF · sternF · freezeG · savagesG · are · war · seen · rareH · thereH · showI · againC · vain · goI
- 3 -ABAB begins · fadeA · slopeB · madeA · copeB
- 4 A-ABCCB retakeA · lost · breakA · wiresB · hearC · cheerC · firesB
- 5 AA seenA · bulletinA
- 6 -ABBA-B victory · dayA · lineB · divineB · stayA · on · donelsonB
- 7 AA-BB-CCD-D---D lostA · tossedA · sword · canisterB · banisterB · broad · worksC · lurksC · menD · fight · denD · wary · chary · won · donelsonD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| The damaged gun-boats can’t wage fight | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| For days; so says the Commodore. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Thus no diversion can be had. | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Under a sunless sky of lead | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Our grim-faced boys in blacked plight | 8 | /˘······ |
| Gaze toward the ground they held before, | 9 | ········· |
| And then on Grant. He marks their mood, | 8 | ········ |
| And hails it, and will turn the same to good. | 10 | ·········· |
| Spite all that they have undergone, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Their desperate hearts are set upon | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| This winter fort, this stubborn fort, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| This castle of the last resort, | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| This Donelson. | 4 | ·/˘˘ |
| An order given | 5 | ·/˘/˘ |
| Requires withdrawal from the front | 8 | ˘/˘/˘··· |
| Of regiments that bore the brunt | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| Of morning’s fray. Their ranks all riven | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Are being replaced by fresh, strong men. | 8 | ·/·/···· |
| Great vigilance in the foeman’s Den; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| He snuffs the stormers. Need it is | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| That for that fell assault of his, | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| That rout inflicted, and self-scorn-- | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Immoderate in noble natures, torn | 10 | ˘/˘˘·/˘/˘· |
| By sense of being through slackness overborne-- | 10 | ···/·/˘··· |
| The rebel be given a quick return: | 9 | ·˘/·/··˘/ |
| The kindest face looks now half stern. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Balked of their prey in airs that freeze, | 8 | ········ |
| Some fierce ones glare like savages. | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| And yet, and yet, strange moments are-- | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Well--blood, and tears, and anguished War! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The morning’s battle-ground is seen | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| In lifted glades, like meadows rare; | 8 | ·/˘··/·· |
| The blood-drops on the snow-crust there | 8 | ········ |
| Like clover in the white-week show-- | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Flushed fields of death, that call again-- | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Call to our men, and not in vain, | 8 | ··/····· |
| For that way must the stormers go. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The work begins. | 4 | ··˘/ |
| Light drifts of men thrown forward, fade | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| In skirmish-line along the slope, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| Where some dislodgments must be made | 8 | ········ |
| Ere the stormer with the strong-hold cope. | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| Lew Wallace, moving to retake | 8 | ·/˘/˘·˘/ |
| The heights late lost-- | 4 | ···· |
| (Herewith a break. | 4 | //·· |
| Storms at the West derange the wires. | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| Doubtless, ere morning, we shall hear | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| The end; we look for news to cheer-- | 8 | ········ |
| Let Hope fan all her fires.) | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Next day in large bold hand was seen | 8 | ········ |
| The closing bulletin: | 6 | ·/˘/˘˘ |
| VICTORY! | 3 | /˘˘ |
| Our troops have retrieved the day | 8 | /˘··˘/·· |
| By one grand surge along the line; | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| The spirit that urged them was divine. | 8 | ·/····˘/ |
| The first works flooded, naught could stay | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The stormers: on! still on! | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Bayonets for Donelson! | 7 | /˘··/˘˘ |
| Over the ground that morning lost | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Rolled the blue billows, tempest-tossed, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Following a hat on the point of a sword. | 10 | /˘········ |
| Spite shell and round-shot, grape and canister, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Up they climbed without rail or banister-- | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Up the steep hill-sides long and broad, | 8 | ········ |
| Driving the rebel deep within his works. | 10 | /˘·˘/····· |
| ’Tis nightfall; not an enemy lurks | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| In sight. The chafing men | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Fret for more fight: | 4 | ···· |
| “To-night, to-night let us take the Den” | 9 | ········· |
| But night is treacherous, Grant is wary; | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Of brave blood be a little chary. | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Patience! the Fort is good as won; | 8 | /˘······ |
| To-morrow, and into Donelson. | 9 | ·/˘···/˘˘ |
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