Macgregor
Oh! had I deem'd my sighs, in numbers rung,Could e'er have gain'd the world's approving smile,I had awoke my rhymes in choicer style,My sorrow's birth more tunefully had sung:But she is gone whose inspiration hungOn all my words, and did my thoughts beguile;My numbers harsh seem'd melody awhile,Now she is mute who o'er them music flung.Nor fame, nor other incense, then I sought,But how to quell my heart's o'erwhelming grief;I wept, but sought no honour in my tear:But could the world's fair suffrage now be bought,'Twere joy to gain, but that my hour is brief,Her lofty spirit waves me to her bier.
Words in this poem
- rung n.
- A floor timber in a ship. [OE. ronge, AS. hrung, a staff, rod, pole; akin to G. runge a short, thick piece of iron or wood, OD. ronghe a prop, support, Icel. röng a rib in a ship, Goth. H]
- approving a.
- Expressing approbation; commending; as, an approving smile.
- awhile adv.
- For a while; for some time; for a short time. [Adj. a + while time, interval.]
- quell v. t.
- To take the life of; to kill. [OE. quellen to kill, AS. cwellan, causative of cwelan to die; akin to OHG. quellen to torment, Icel. kvelja. See Quail to cower.]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- bier n.
- A handbarrow or portable frame on which a corpse is placed or borne to the grave. [OE. bæe, beere, AS. b, b; akin to D. baar, OHG. bara, G. bahre, Icel barar, Dbaare, L. feretrum, Gr. , from the same bear to produce. See 1st Bear, and cf. Barr]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Macgregor 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, Macgregor, in The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems (1859), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/petrarch-sonnets/macgregor-27.html, id L14881.
Form and metre
Macgregor 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 90%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 7% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 rungA · smileB · styleB · sungA · hungA · beguileB · awhileB · flungA · soughtC · griefD · tearC · boughtD · briefC · bierD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Oh! had I deem'd my sighs, in numbers rung, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Could e'er have gain'd the world's approving smile, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| I had awoke my rhymes in choicer style, | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| My sorrow's birth more tunefully had sung: | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| But she is gone whose inspiration hung | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| On all my words, and did my thoughts beguile; | 10 | ········˘/ |
| My numbers harsh seem'd melody awhile, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘˘˘/ |
| Now she is mute who o'er them music flung. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Nor fame, nor other incense, then I sought, | 10 | ···/˘/···· |
| But how to quell my heart's o'erwhelming grief; | 10 | ·········· |
| I wept, but sought no honour in my tear: | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| But could the world's fair suffrage now be bought, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| 'Twere joy to gain, but that my hour is brief, | 10 | ·······/·· |
| Her lofty spirit waves me to her bier. | 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.