Such Are His Sufferings That He Envies the Insensibility of Marble
Had but the light which dazzled them afarDrawn but a little nearer to mine eyes,Methinks I would have wholly changed my form,Even as in Thessaly her form she changed:But if I cannot lose myself in herMore than I have--small mercy though it won--I would to-day in aspect thoughtful be,Of harder stone than chisel ever wrought,Of adamant, or marble cold and white,Perchance through terror, or of jasper rareAnd therefore prized by the blind greedy crowd.Then were I free from this hard heavy yokeWhich makes me envy Atlas, old and worn,Who with his shoulders brings Morocco night.
Words in this poem
- afar adv.
- At, to, or from a great distance; far away; -- often used with from preceding, or off following; as, he was seen from afar; I saw him afar off. [Pref. a-.(for on or of) + far.]
- methinks v.
- It seems to me; I think. See Me. [AS. þyncan to seem, me þynceedh, me þuhte, OE. me thinketh, me thoughte; akin to G. dünken to seem, denken to think, and E. think. See Me, and Think.]
- morocco n.
- A fine kind of leather, prepared commonly from goatskin (though an inferior kind is made of sheepskin), and tanned with sumac and dyed of various colors; -- said to have been first made by the Moors. [Named from Morocco, the country. Cf. Morris the dance.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Such Are His Sufferings That He Envies the Insensibility of Marble 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, Such Are His Sufferings That He Envies the Insensibility of Marble, in The Sonnets, Triumphs and Other Poems (1859), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #17650, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/petrarch-sonnets/such-are-his-sufferings-that-he-envies-the-insensibility-of-.html, id L14542.
Form and metre
Such Are His Sufferings That He Envies the Insensibility of Marble 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%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 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 afarA · eyesB · formB · changedA · herA · wonB · beB · wroughtA · whiteC · rareD · crowdC · yokeD · wornC · nightD
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Had but the light which dazzled them afar | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Drawn but a little nearer to mine eyes, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Methinks I would have wholly changed my form, | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| Even as in Thessaly her form she changed: | 10 | /········· |
| But if I cannot lose myself in her | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| More than I have--small mercy though it won-- | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| I would to-day in aspect thoughtful be, | 10 | ·····/·/˘· |
| Of harder stone than chisel ever wrought, | 10 | ·/˘··/˘/˘· |
| Of adamant, or marble cold and white, | 10 | ·/˘˘·/˘··· |
| Perchance through terror, or of jasper rare | 10 | ˘/·/˘··/˘· |
| And therefore prized by the blind greedy crowd. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Then were I free from this hard heavy yoke | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Which makes me envy Atlas, old and worn, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Who with his shoulders brings Morocco night. | 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.