Macgregor
Is this the nest in which her wings of gold,Of gold and purple plume, my phoenix laid?How flutter'd my fond heart beneath their shade!But now its sighs proclaim that dwelling cold:Sweet source! from which my bliss, my bane, have roll'd,Where is that face, in living light array'd,That burn'd me, yet my sole enjoyment made?Unparallel'd on earth, the heavens now holdThee bless'd!--but I am left wretched, alone!Yet ever in my grief return to seeAnd honour this sweet place, though thou art gone.A black night veils the hills, whence rising freeThou took'st thy heavenward flight! Ah! when they shoneIn morning radiance, it was all from thee!
Words in this poem
- bane v. t.
- To be the bane of; to ruin. Fuller.
- 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.]
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-34.html, id L14931.
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 88%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 29% 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 goldA · laidB · shadeB · coldA · roll'dA · array'dB · madeB · holdA · aloneC · seeD · goneC · freeD · shoneC · theeD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Is this the nest in which her wings of gold, | 10 | ·········· |
| Of gold and purple plume, my phoenix laid? | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| How flutter'd my fond heart beneath their shade! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| But now its sighs proclaim that dwelling cold: | 10 | ····˘/·/˘· |
| Sweet source! from which my bliss, my bane, have roll'd, | 10 | ·········· |
| Where is that face, in living light array'd, | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| That burn'd me, yet my sole enjoyment made? | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Unparallel'd on earth, the heavens now hold | 11 | ˘/˘····/˘·· |
| Thee bless'd!--but I am left wretched, alone! | 10 | ······/˘˘/ |
| Yet ever in my grief return to see | 10 | ·/˘···˘/·· |
| And honour this sweet place, though thou art gone. | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| A black night veils the hills, whence rising free | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Thou took'st thy heavenward flight! Ah! when they shone | 11 | ···/˘˘····· |
| In morning radiance, it was all from thee! | 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.