A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General
His Grace! impossible! what, dead!Of old age too, and in his bed!And could that mighty warrior fall,And so inglorious, after all?Well, since he's gone, no matter how,The last loud trump must wake him now;And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger,He'd wish to sleep a little longer.And could he be indeed so oldAs by the newspapers we're told?Threescore, I think, is pretty high;'Twas time in conscience he should die!This world he cumber'd long enough;He burnt his candle to the snuff;And that's the reason, some folks think,He left behind so great a stink.Behold his funeral appears,Nor widows' sighs, nor orphans' tears,Wont at such times each heart to pierce,Attend the progress of his hearse.But what of that? his friends may say,He had those honours in his day.True to his profit and his pride,He made them weep before he died.Come hither, all ye empty things!Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings!Who float upon the tide of state;Come hither, and behold your fate!Let Pride be taught by this rebuke,How very mean a thing's a duke;From all his ill-got honours flung,Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung.
Words in this poem
- inglorious a.
- Not glorious; not bringing honor or glory; not accompanied with fame, honor, or celebrity; obscure; humble; as, an inglorious life of ease. [L. inglorious; pref. in- not + gloria glory, fame: cf. F. inglorieux. See Glory.]
- conscience n.
- Knowledge of one's own thoughts or actions; consciousness. [F. conscience, fr. L. conscientia, fr. consciens, p.pr. of conscire to know, to be conscious; con- + scire to know. See Science.]
- folks n.
- In Anglo-Saxon times, the people of a group of townships or villages; a community; a tribe. [AS. folc; akin to D. volk, OS. & OHG. folk, G. volk, Icel. f, Sw. & Dan. folk, Lith. pulkas crowd, and perh. to E. follow.]
- duke n.
- A leader; a chief; a prince. [F. duc, fr. L. dux, ducis, leader, commander, fr. ducere to lead; akin to AS. teón to draw; cf. AS. heretoga (here army) an army leader, general, G. herzog duke]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #13621; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Jonathan Swift, A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General, in Poems, Volume II (1710–1745), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #13621, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/swift-poems/a-satirical-elegy-on-the-death-of-a-late-famous-general.html, id L09318.
Form and metre
A Satirical Elegy on the Death of a Late Famous General is 32 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets, 81% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 89%). 96% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.1 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, other poems in iambic tetrameter.
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 AABBCC--DDEEFFGG----HHIIJJKKLLMM deadA · bedA · fallB · allB · howC · nowC · stronger · longer · oldD · toldD · highE · dieE · enoughF · snuffF · thinkG · stinkG · appears · tears · pierce · hearse · sayH · dayH · prideI · diedI · thingsJ · kingsJ · stateK · fateK · rebukeL · dukeL · flungM · sprungM
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| His Grace! impossible! what, dead! | 8 | ··˘/˘˘·· |
| Of old age too, and in his bed! | 8 | ········ |
| And could that mighty warrior fall, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And so inglorious, after all? | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Well, since he's gone, no matter how, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The last loud trump must wake him now; | 8 | ········ |
| And, trust me, as the noise grows stronger, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| He'd wish to sleep a little longer. | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| And could he be indeed so old | 8 | ····˘/·· |
| As by the newspapers we're told? | 8 | ···/·˘·· |
| Threescore, I think, is pretty high; | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| 'Twas time in conscience he should die! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| This world he cumber'd long enough; | 8 | ······˘/ |
| He burnt his candle to the snuff; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And that's the reason, some folks think, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| He left behind so great a stink. | 8 | ········ |
| Behold his funeral appears, | 8 | ˘/·/˘˘˘/ |
| Nor widows' sighs, nor orphans' tears, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Wont at such times each heart to pierce, | 8 | ········ |
| Attend the progress of his hearse. | 8 | ˘/·/···· |
| But what of that? his friends may say, | 8 | ········ |
| He had those honours in his day. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| True to his profit and his pride, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| He made them weep before he died. | 8 | ········ |
| Come hither, all ye empty things! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Ye bubbles raised by breath of kings! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Who float upon the tide of state; | 8 | ········ |
| Come hither, and behold your fate! | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| Let Pride be taught by this rebuke, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| How very mean a thing's a duke; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| From all his ill-got honours flung, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung. | 8 | ········ |
Notes from the edition 1
The notes to the Poems of Jonathan Swift, Volume II (Project Gutenberg #13621).
- Line 32 See the "Fable of Midas," ante, p. 150; and The Examiner, "Prose Works," ix, 95.--W. E. B.
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