The Gilliflower of Gold
A golden gilliflower to-dayI wore upon my helm alway,And won the prize of this tourney.Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
However well Sir Giles might sit,His sun was weak to wither it,Lord Miles's blood was dew on it:Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Although my spear in splinters flew,From John's steel-coat, my eye was true;I wheel'd about, and cried for you,Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Yea, do not doubt my heart was good,Though my sword flew like rotten wood,To shout, although I scarcely stood,Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
My hand was steady too, to takeMy axe from round my neck, and breakJohn's steel-coat up for my love's sake.Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
When I stood in my tent again,Arming afresh, I felt a painTake hold of me, I was so fain,Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
To hear: Honneur aux fils des preux!Right in my ears again, and shewThe gilliflower blossom'd new.Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
The Sieur Guillaume against me came,His tabard bore three points of flameFrom a red heart: with little blame,Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Our tough spears crackled up like straw;He was the first to turn and drawHis sword, that had nor speck nor flaw;Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
But I felt weaker than a maid,And my brain, dizzied and afraid,Within my helm a fierce tune play'd,Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Until I thought of your dear head,Bow'd to the gilliflower bed,The yellow flowers stain'd with red;Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Crash! how the swords met: giroflee!The fierce tune in my helm would play,La belle! la belle! jaune giroflee!Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Once more the great swords met again:"La belle! la belle!" but who fell then?Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten;Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
And as with mazed and unarm'd face,Toward my own crown and the Queen's place,They led me at a gentle pace.Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
I almost saw your quiet headBow'd o'er the gilliflower bed,The yellow flowers stain'd with red.Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee.
Words in this poem
- tourney v. i.
- To perform in tournaments; to tilt. [Cf.OF. torneier. See Tourney, n.]
- belle n.
- A young lady of superior beauty and attractions; a handsome lady, or one who attracts notice in society; a fair lady. [F. belle, fem. of bel, beau, beautiful, fine. See Beau.]
- arming n.
- The act of furnishing with, or taking, arms.
- afresh adv.
- Anew; again; once more; newly. [Pref. a- + fresh.]
- fain v. t.
- To be glad ; to wish or desire.
- fils n.
- Son; -- sometimes used after a French proper name to distinguish a son from his father, as, Alexandre Dumas, fils.
- shew n.
- Show. [Obs. except in shewbread.]
- sieur n.
- Sir; -- a title of respect used by the French. [F., abbrev. from seigneur. Cf. Monsieur, Seignior.]
- crackled a.
- Covered with minute cracks in the glaze; -- said of some kinds of porcelain and fine earthenware.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Gilliflower of Gold is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #22650; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Morris, The Gilliflower of Gold, in The Defence of Guenevere (1858), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #22650, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/morris-defence-guenevere/the-gilliflower-of-gold.html, id L07135.
Form and metre
The Gilliflower of Gold is 60 lines in 15 stanzas of 4 lines each. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 80%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 13% 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.
- 2 AAA- sitA · itA · itA · giroflee
- 3 AAA- flewA · trueA · youA · giroflee
- 4 AAA- goodA · woodA · stoodA · giroflee
- 5 AAA- takeA · breakA · sakeA · giroflee
- 6 AAA- againA · painA · fainA · giroflee
- 7 AAA- preuxA · shewA · newA · giroflee
- 8 AAA- cameA · flameA · blameA · giroflee
- 9 AAA- strawA · drawA · flawA · giroflee
- 10 AAA- maidA · afraidA · play'dA · giroflee
- 11 AAA- headA · bedA · redA · giroflee
- 12 A-AA girofleeA · play · girofleeA · girofleeA
- 13 AAA- againA · thenA · tenA · giroflee
- 14 AAA- faceA · placeA · paceA · giroflee
- 15 AAA- headA · bedA · redA · giroflee
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 golden gilliflower to-day | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| I wore upon my helm alway, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| And won the prize of this tourney. | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| However well Sir Giles might sit, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| His sun was weak to wither it, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Lord Miles's blood was dew on it: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| Although my spear in splinters flew, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| From John's steel-coat, my eye was true; | 8 | ········ |
| I wheel'd about, and cried for you, | 8 | ········ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| Yea, do not doubt my heart was good, | 8 | ········ |
| Though my sword flew like rotten wood, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To shout, although I scarcely stood, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| My hand was steady too, to take | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| My axe from round my neck, and break | 8 | ········ |
| John's steel-coat up for my love's sake. | 8 | ········ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| When I stood in my tent again, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Arming afresh, I felt a pain | 8 | /˘˘/···· |
| Take hold of me, I was so fain, | 8 | ········ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| To hear: Honneur aux fils des preux! | 8 | ········ |
| Right in my ears again, and shew | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| The gilliflower blossom'd new. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| The Sieur Guillaume against me came, | 8 | ···/···· |
| His tabard bore three points of flame | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| From a red heart: with little blame, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| Our tough spears crackled up like straw; | 10 | /˘··/˘˘··· |
| He was the first to turn and draw | 8 | ········ |
| His sword, that had nor speck nor flaw; | 8 | ········ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| But I felt weaker than a maid, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And my brain, dizzied and afraid, | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Within my helm a fierce tune play'd, | 8 | ········ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| Until I thought of your dear head, | 8 | ········ |
| Bow'd to the gilliflower bed, | 8 | ········ |
| The yellow flowers stain'd with red; | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| Crash! how the swords met: giroflee! | 8 | ········ |
| The fierce tune in my helm would play, | 8 | ········ |
| La belle! la belle! jaune giroflee! | 8 | ········ |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| Once more the great swords met again: | 8 | ······˘/ |
| "La belle! la belle!" but who fell then? | 8 | ········ |
| Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten; | 8 | ···/···· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| And as with mazed and unarm'd face, | 9 | ····˘·˘/· |
| Toward my own crown and the Queen's place, | 9 | ········· |
| They led me at a gentle pace. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 8 | ········ |
| I almost saw your quiet head | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| Bow'd o'er the gilliflower bed, | 8 | ········ |
| The yellow flowers stain'd with red. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflee. | 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.