Farewell
Mother, with unbowed headHear thou across the seaThe farewell of the dead,The dead who died for thee.Greet them again with tender words and grave,For, saving thee, themselves they could not save.
To keep the house unharmedTheir fathers built so fair,Deeming endurance armedBetter than brute despair,They found the secret of the word that saith,"Service is sweet, for all true life is death."
So greet thou well thy deadAcross the homeless sea,And be thou comfortedBecause they died for thee.Far off they served, but now their deed is doneFor evermore their life and thine are one.
"Partial firing continued until 4.30, when a victory having beenreported to the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., andCommander-in-Chief, he then died of his wound."--Log of the Victory,October 21, 1805.
England! to-day let fire be in thine eyesAnd in thy heart the throb of leaping guns;Crown in thy streets the deed that never dies,And tell their fathers' fame to all thy sons!Behold! behold! on that unchanging seaWhere day behind Trafalgar rises pale,How dread the storm to beDrifts up with ominous breathCloud after towering cloud of billowy sailFull charged with thunder and the bolts of death.
Yet when the noon is past, and thy delight,More delicate for these good hundred years,Has drunk the splendour and the sound of fightAnd the sweet sting of long-since vanished fears,Then, England, come thou down with sterner lipsFrom the bright world of thy substantial power,Forget thy seas, thy ships,And that wide echoing domeTo watch the soul of man in his dark hourRedeeming yet his dear lost land of home.
What place is this? What under-world of painAll shadow-barred with glare of swinging fires?What writhing phantoms of the newly slain?What cries? What thirst consuming all desires?This is the field of battle: not for life,Not for the deeper life that dwells in love,Not for the savour of strifeOr the far call of fame,Not for all these the fight: all these aboveThe soul of this man cherished Duty's name.
His steadfast hope from self has turned away,For the Cause only must he still contend:"How goes the day with us? How goes the day?"He craves not victory, but to make an end.Therefore not yet thine hour, O Death: but whenThe weapons forged against his country's peaceLie broken round him--thenGive him the kiss supreme;Then let the tumult of his warfare ceaseAnd the last dawn dispel his anguished dream.
Words in this poem
- unbowed a.
- Not bent or arched; not bowed down. [Pref. un- not + bowed.]
- saith
- 3d pers. sing. pres. of Say.
- homeless a.
- Destitute of a home. [AS.hamleas.]
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
- throb v. i.
- To beat, or pulsate, with more than usual force or rapidity; to beat in consequence of agitation; to palpitate; -- said of the heart, pulse, etc. [OE. ; of uncertain origin; cf. Russ. trepete a trembling, and E. trepidation.]
- towering a.
- Very high; elevated; rising aloft; as, a towering height.
- billowy a.
- Of or pertaining to billows; swelling or swollen into large waves; full of billows or surges; resembling billows.
- splendour n.
- Great brightness; brilliant luster; brilliancy; as, the splendor ot the sun. B. Jonson. [L. fr. splendere to shine: cf. F. splendeur.]
- sterner n.
- A director. Dr. R. Clerke. [See 3d Stern.]
- 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.]
- savour v. t.
- To perceive by the smell or the taste; hence, to perceive; to note. B. Jonson.
- strife n.
- The act of striving; earnest endeavor. [OF. estrif. See Strive.]
- dispel v. t.
- To drive away by scattering, or so to cause to vanish; to clear away; to banish; to dissipate; as, to dispel a cloud, vapors, cares, doubts, illusions. [L. dispellere; dis- + pellere to push, drive. See Pulse a beating.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Farewell is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems: New and Old, Project Gutenberg ebook #24405; 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 John Newbolt, Farewell, in Poems: New and Old (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #24405, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/newbolt-poems/farewell.html, id L11382.
Form and metre
Farewell is 62 lines in 8 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCEDE, complete in 4 of its 8 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.1 syllables. 7 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 40% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
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 ABABCC headA · seaB · deadA · theeB · graveC · saveC
- 2 ABABCC unharmedA · fairB · armedA · despairB · saithC · deathC
- 3 ABABCC deadA · seaB · comfortedA · theeB · doneC · oneC
- 5 ABABCDCEDE eyesA · gunsB · diesA · sonsB · seaC · paleD · beC · breathE · sailD · deathE
- 6 ABABCDCEDE delightA · yearsB · fightA · fearsB · lipsC · powerD · shipsC · domeE · hourD · homeE
- 7 ABABCDCEDE painA · firesB · slainA · desiresB · lifeC · loveD · strifeC · fameE · aboveD · nameE
- 8 ABABCDCEDE awayA · contendB · dayA · endB · whenC · peaceD · thenC · supremeE · ceaseD · dreamE
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 pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Mother, with unbowed head | 6 | /˘·˘/· |
| Hear thou across the sea | 6 | ··˘/·· |
| The farewell of the dead, | 6 | ··/··· |
| The dead who died for thee. | 6 | ······ |
| Greet them again with tender words and grave, | 10 | ··˘/·/˘··· |
| For, saving thee, themselves they could not save. | 10 | ·/˘·˘/···· |
| To keep the house unharmed | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Their fathers built so fair, | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Deeming endurance armed | 6 | /˘/˘˘· |
| Better than brute despair, | 6 | /˘··˘/ |
| They found the secret of the word that saith, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| "Service is sweet, for all true life is death." | 10 | /˘········ |
| So greet thou well thy dead | 6 | ······ |
| Across the homeless sea, | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| And be thou comforted | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| Because they died for thee. | 6 | ······ |
| Far off they served, but now their deed is done | 10 | ·········· |
| For evermore their life and thine are one. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| "Partial firing continued until 4.30, when a victory having been | 16 | /˘/˘˘/˘····/˘/˘· |
| reported to the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Nelson, K.B., and | 18 | ·/˘········/˘/˘··· |
| Commander-in-Chief, he then died of his wound."--Log of the Victory, | 16 | ˘/˘···········/˘ |
| October 21, 1805. | 3 | ˘/˘ |
| England! to-day let fire be in thine eyes | 10 | /˘···/···· |
| And in thy heart the throb of leaping guns; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Crown in thy streets the deed that never dies, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And tell their fathers' fame to all thy sons! | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Behold! behold! on that unchanging sea | 10 | ˘/˘/··˘/˘· |
| Where day behind Trafalgar rises pale, | 10 | ····˘/˘/˘· |
| How dread the storm to be | 6 | ······ |
| Drifts up with ominous breath | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| Cloud after towering cloud of billowy sail | 11 | ···/˘··/˘˘· |
| Full charged with thunder and the bolts of death. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Yet when the noon is past, and thy delight, | 10 | ········˘/ |
| More delicate for these good hundred years, | 10 | ·/˘˘···/˘· |
| Has drunk the splendour and the sound of fight | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| And the sweet sting of long-since vanished fears, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Then, England, come thou down with sterner lips | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| From the bright world of thy substantial power, | 11 | ······˘/˘/˘ |
| Forget thy seas, thy ships, | 6 | ˘/···· |
| And that wide echoing dome | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| To watch the soul of man in his dark hour | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Redeeming yet his dear lost land of home. | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| What place is this? What under-world of pain | 10 | ·········· |
| All shadow-barred with glare of swinging fires? | 11 | ·/·····/˘/˘ |
| What writhing phantoms of the newly slain? | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| What cries? What thirst consuming all desires? | 11 | ····˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| This is the field of battle: not for life, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Not for the deeper life that dwells in love, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Not for the savour of strife | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| Or the far call of fame, | 6 | ······ |
| Not for all these the fight: all these above | 10 | ·········· |
| The soul of this man cherished Duty's name. | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| His steadfast hope from self has turned away, | 10 | ·/······˘/ |
| For the Cause only must he still contend: | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| "How goes the day with us? How goes the day?" | 10 | ·········· |
| He craves not victory, but to make an end. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Therefore not yet thine hour, O Death: but when | 10 | ·····/···· |
| The weapons forged against his country's peace | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Lie broken round him--then | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| Give him the kiss supreme; | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Then let the tumult of his warfare cease | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| And the last dawn dispel his anguished dream. | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
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.