He Blames Love for Wounding Him on a Holy Day (Good Friday)
'Twas on the morn, when heaven its blessed rayIn pity to its suffering master veil'd,First did I, Lady, to your beauty yield,Of your victorious eyes th' unguarded prey.Ah! little reck'd I that, on such a day,Needed against Love's arrows any shield;And trod, securely trod, the fatal field:Whence, with the world's, began my heart's dismay.On every side Love found his victim bare,And through mine eyes transfix'd my throbbing heart;Those eyes, which now with constant sorrows flow:But poor the triumph of his boasted art,Who thus could pierce a naked youth, nor dareTo you in armour mail'd even to display his bow!
Words in this poem
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- armour n.
- Defensive arms for the body; any clothing or covering worn to protect one's person in battle. [OE. armure, fr. F. armure, OF. armeure, fr. L. armatura. See Armature.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
He Blames Love for Wounding Him on a Holy Day (Good Friday) is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, the various hands translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Petrarch, He Blames Love for Wounding Him on a Holy Day (Good Friday), in The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems (1859), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/petrarch-sonnets/he-blames-love-for-wounding-him-on-a-holy-day-good-friday.html, id L14463.
Form and metre
He Blames Love for Wounding Him on a Holy Day (Good Friday) is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABBAABBACDCDCD, the pattern of the Italian sonnet. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 87%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 14% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end. Rhymes that have moved apart since the poem was written: join'd / mind.
See other Italian sonnets, 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 ABBAABBACDCDCD rayA · veil'dB · yieldB · preyA · dayA · shieldB · fieldB · dismayA · bareC · heartD · flowC · artD · dareC · bowD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| 'Twas on the morn, when heaven its blessed ray | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| In pity to its suffering master veil'd, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| First did I, Lady, to your beauty yield, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Of your victorious eyes th' unguarded prey. | 10 | ··˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| Ah! little reck'd I that, on such a day, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Needed against Love's arrows any shield; | 10 | /˘···/˘/˘· |
| And trod, securely trod, the fatal field: | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| Whence, with the world's, began my heart's dismay. | 10 | ····˘/··˘/ |
| On every side Love found his victim bare, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| And through mine eyes transfix'd my throbbing heart; | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| Those eyes, which now with constant sorrows flow: | 10 | ·····/˘/˘· |
| But poor the triumph of his boasted art, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Who thus could pierce a naked youth, nor dare | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| To you in armour mail'd even to display his bow! | 12 | ···/˘·/·˘/·· |
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.