Nott
With all my power, lest falsehood should invade,I guarded thee and still thy honour sought,Ungrateful tongue! who honour ne'er hast brought,But still my care with rage and shame repaid:For, though to me most requisite, thine aid,When mercy I would ask, availeth nought,Still cold and mute, and e'en to words if wroughtThey seem as sounds in sleep by dreamers made.And ye, sad tears, o' nights, when I would fainBe left alone, my sure companions, flow,But, summon'd for my peace, ye soon depart:Ye too, mine anguish'd sighs, so prompt to pain,Then breathe before her brokenly and slow,And my face only speaks my suffering heart.
Words in this poem
- 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.]
- ungrateful a.
- Not grateful; not thankful for favors; making no returns, or making ill return for kindness, attention, etc.; ingrateful. South.
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- fain v. t.
- To be glad ; to wish or desire.
- depart v. i.
- To part; to divide; to separate. [OE. departen to divide, part, depart, F. départir to divide, distribute, se départir to separate one's self, depart; pref. dé- (L. de) + partir to part, depart,]
- brokenly adv.
- In a broken, interrupted manner; in a broken state; in broken language.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Nott 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, Nott, in The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems (1859), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/petrarch-sonnets/nott-6.html, id L14539.
Form and metre
Nott 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 91%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 14% 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 invadeA · soughtB · broughtB · repaidA · aidA · noughtB · wroughtB · madeA · fainC · flowD · departC · painD · slowC · heartD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| With all my power, lest falsehood should invade, | 10 | ···/·/··˘/ |
| I guarded thee and still thy honour sought, | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Ungrateful tongue! who honour ne'er hast brought, | 10 | ˘/˘··/˘··· |
| But still my care with rage and shame repaid: | 10 | ········˘/ |
| For, though to me most requisite, thine aid, | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| When mercy I would ask, availeth nought, | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘· |
| Still cold and mute, and e'en to words if wrought | 10 | ·········· |
| They seem as sounds in sleep by dreamers made. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| And ye, sad tears, o' nights, when I would fain | 10 | ·········· |
| Be left alone, my sure companions, flow, | 10 | ··˘/··˘/˘· |
| But, summon'd for my peace, ye soon depart: | 10 | ·/˘·····˘/ |
| Ye too, mine anguish'd sighs, so prompt to pain, | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Then breathe before her brokenly and slow, | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| And my face only speaks my suffering heart. | 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.