IL Santo
Alas! alas! what impious hands are these?They have cut down my dark mysterious trees,Defied the brooding spellThat sealed my sacred well,Broken my fathers' fixed and ancient bars,And on the mouldering shadeWherein my dead were laidLet in the cold clear aspect of the stars.
Slumber hath held the grove for years untold:Is there no reverence for a peace so old?Is there no seemly aweFor bronze-engraven law,For dust beatified and saintly name?When they shall see the shrinePrinces have held divine,Will they not bow before the eternal flame?
Vain! vain! the wind of heaven for ages longHath whispered manhood, "Let thine arm be strong!Hew down and fling awayThe growth that veils decay,
Shatter the shrine that chokes the living spring.Scorn hatred, scorn regret,Dig deep and deeper yet,Leave not the quest for word of saint or king.
"Dig deeper yet! though the world brand thee now,The faithful labour of an impious browMay for thy race redeemThe source of that lost streamOnce given the thirst of all the earth to slake.Nay, thou too ere the endThy weary knee mayst bendAnd in thy trembling hands that water take."
Words in this poem
- untold a.
- Not told; not related; not revealed; as, untold secrets.
- saintly a.
- Like a saint; becoming a holy person.
- 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,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
IL Santo 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, IL Santo, in Poems: New and Old (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #24405, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/newbolt-poems/il-santo.html, id L11437.
Form and metre
IL Santo is 32 lines in 5 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABBCDDC, complete in 3 of its 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 91% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 38% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic trimeter.
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 AABBCDDC theseA · treesA · spellB · wellB · barsC · shadeD · laidD · starsC
- 2 AABBCDDC untoldA · oldA · aweB · lawB · nameC · shrineD · divineD · flameC
- 3 AABB longA · strongA · awayB · decayB
- 4 ABBA springA · regretB · yetB · kingA
- 5 AABBCDDC nowA · browA · redeemB · streamB · slakeC · endD · bendD · takeC
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 trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Alas! alas! what impious hands are these? | 11 | ˘/˘/·˘/˘··· |
| They have cut down my dark mysterious trees, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Defied the brooding spell | 6 | ˘/·/˘· |
| That sealed my sacred well, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Broken my fathers' fixed and ancient bars, | 10 | /˘·/˘··/˘· |
| And on the mouldering shade | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| Wherein my dead were laid | 6 | ······ |
| Let in the cold clear aspect of the stars. | 10 | ·····/···· |
| Slumber hath held the grove for years untold: | 10 | /˘······˘/ |
| Is there no reverence for a peace so old? | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Is there no seemly awe | 6 | ···/˘· |
| For bronze-engraven law, | 6 | ······ |
| For dust beatified and saintly name? | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| When they shall see the shrine | 6 | ······ |
| Princes have held divine, | 6 | /˘··˘/ |
| Will they not bow before the eternal flame? | 11 | ·······˘/˘· |
| Vain! vain! the wind of heaven for ages long | 10 | ·····/·/˘· |
| Hath whispered manhood, "Let thine arm be strong! | 10 | ·/˘/······ |
| Hew down and fling away | 6 | ····˘/ |
| The growth that veils decay, | 6 | ····˘/ |
| Shatter the shrine that chokes the living spring. | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| Scorn hatred, scorn regret, | 6 | ·/˘·˘/ |
| Dig deep and deeper yet, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Leave not the quest for word of saint or king. | 10 | ·········· |
| "Dig deeper yet! though the world brand thee now, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The faithful labour of an impious brow | 11 | ·/˘/˘··˘/˘· |
| May for thy race redeem | 6 | ····˘/ |
| The source of that lost stream | 6 | ······ |
| Once given the thirst of all the earth to slake. | 10 | ·/········ |
| Nay, thou too ere the end | 6 | ······ |
| Thy weary knee mayst bend | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| And in thy trembling hands that water take." | 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.