Rosaline
Like to the clear in highest sphereWhere all imperial glory shines,Of selfsame colour is her hairWhether unfolded or in twines:Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,Resembling heaven by every wink;The gods do fear whenas they glow,And I do tremble when I thinkHeigh ho, would she were mine!
Her cheeks are like the blushing cloudThat beautifies Aurora’s face,Or like the silver crimson shroudThat Phœbus’ smiling looks doth grace.Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!Her lips are like two budded rosesWhom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,Within whose bounds she balm enclosesApt to entice a deity:Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Her neck like to a stately towerWhere Love himself imprison’d lies,To watch for glances every hourFrom her divine and sacred eyes:Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!Her paps are centres of delight,Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame,Where Nature moulds the dew of lightTo feed perfection with the same:Heigh ho, would she were mine!
With orient pearl, with ruby red,With marble white, with sapphire blue,Her body every way is fed,Yet soft to touch and sweet in view:Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!Nature herself her shape admires;The gods are wounded in her sight;And Love forsakes his heavenly firesAnd at her eyes his brand doth light:Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoanThe absence of fair Rosaline,Since for a fair there’s fairer none,Nor for her virtues so divine:Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine!
Words in this poem
- selfsame a.
- Precisely the same; the very same; identical. [Self, a. + same.]
- neighbour v. i.
- To dwell in the vicinity; to be a neighbor, or in the neighborhood; to be near.
- bemoan v. t.
- To express deep grief for by moaning; to express sorrow for; to lament; to bewail; to pity or sympathize with. [OE. bimenen, AS. bem; pref. be- + m to moan. See Moan.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Rosaline is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1900, Project Gutenberg ebook #66619; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Lodge, Rosaline, in Poems (1556–1625), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #66619, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/obev-thomas-lodge/rosaline.html, id L15975.
Form and metre
Rosaline is 46 lines in 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.8 syllables. 5 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 26% 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 A-A--BCBC- sphereA · shines · hairA · twines · rosaline · snowB · winkC · glowB · thinkC · mine
- 2 ABAB-C-C-- cloudA · faceB · shroudA · graceB · rosaline · rosesC · nigh · enclosesC · deity · mine
- 3 ABAB-CDCD- towerA · liesB · hourA · eyesB · rosaline · delightC · frameD · lightC · sameD · mine
- 4 ABAB-CDCD- redA · blueB · fedA · viewB · rosaline · admiresC · sightD · firesC · lightD · mine
- 5 -A-BAB bemoan · rosalineA · none · divineB · rosalineA · mineB
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 to the clear in highest sphere | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Where all imperial glory shines, | 8 | ··˘/˘/˘· |
| Of selfsame colour is her hair | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Whether unfolded or in twines: | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! | 6 | ······ |
| Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Resembling heaven by every wink; | 8 | ˘/˘/·/˘· |
| The gods do fear whenas they glow, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| And I do tremble when I think | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Heigh ho, would she were mine! | 6 | ······ |
| Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That beautifies Aurora’s face, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Or like the silver crimson shroud | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| That Phœbus’ smiling looks doth grace. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! | 6 | ······ |
| Her lips are like two budded roses | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Within whose bounds she balm encloses | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Apt to entice a deity: | 8 | ··˘/·/˘˘ |
| Heigh ho, would she were mine! | 6 | ······ |
| Her neck like to a stately tower | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| Where Love himself imprison’d lies, | 8 | ··˘/˘/˘· |
| To watch for glances every hour | 9 | ···/˘/˘/˘ |
| From her divine and sacred eyes: | 8 | ··˘/·/˘· |
| Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! | 6 | ······ |
| Her paps are centres of delight, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Where Nature moulds the dew of light | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| To feed perfection with the same: | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Heigh ho, would she were mine! | 6 | ······ |
| With orient pearl, with ruby red, | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| With marble white, with sapphire blue, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Her body every way is fed, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Yet soft to touch and sweet in view: | 8 | ········ |
| Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! | 6 | ······ |
| Nature herself her shape admires; | 8 | /˘˘/··˘/ |
| The gods are wounded in her sight; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And Love forsakes his heavenly fires | 8 | ··˘/·/˘/ |
| And at her eyes his brand doth light: | 8 | ········ |
| Heigh ho, would she were mine! | 6 | ······ |
| Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan | 8 | ······˘/ |
| The absence of fair Rosaline, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Since for a fair there’s fairer none, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Nor for her virtues so divine: | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! | 6 | ······ |
| Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! | 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.