On a Pen. 1724
In youth exalted high in air,Or bathing in the waters fair,Nature to form me took delight,And clad my body all in white.My person tall, and slender waist,On either side with fringes graced;Till me that tyrant man espied,And dragg'd me from my mother's side:No wonder now I look so thin;The tyrant stript me to the skin:My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropt:At head and foot my body lopt:And then, with heart more hard than stone,He pick'd my marrow from the bone.To vex me more, he took a freakTo slit my tongue and make me speak:But, that which wonderful appears,I speak to eyes, and not to ears.He oft employs me in disguise,And makes me tell a thousand lies:To me he chiefly gives in trustTo please his malice or his lust.From me no secret he can hide;I see his vanity and pride:And my delight is to exposeHis follies to his greatest foes.All languages I can command,Yet not a word I understand.Without my aid, the best divineIn learning would not know a line:The lawyer must forget his pleading;The scholar could not show his reading.Nay; man my master is my slave;I give command to kill or save,Can grant ten thousand pounds a-year,And make a beggar's brat a peer.But, while I thus my life relate,I only hasten on my fate.My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd,I hardly now can force a word.I die unpitied and forgot,And on some dunghill left to rot.
Words in this poem
- clad v.
- To clothe. Holland.
- graced a.
- Endowed with grace; beautiful; full of graces; honorable.
- lust v. i.
- To list; to like. [AS. lystan. See Lust, n., and cf. List to choose.]
- brat n.
- A coarse garnment or cloak; also, coarse clothing, in general. [OE. bratt coarse garnment, AS. bratt cloak, fr. the Celtic; cf. W. brat clout, rag, Gael. brat cloak, apron, raf, Ir. brat cloak; properly then, a child's bib o]
- dunghill n.
- A heap of dung.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
On a Pen. 1724 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, On a Pen. 1724, in Cadenus and Vanessa, and Other Poems (1710–1745), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #13621, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/swift-poems/on-a-pen-1724.html, id L09251.
Form and metre
On a Pen. 1724 is 42 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 10% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLLMMNNOOPPQQRRSSTTUU airA · fairA · delightB · whiteB · waistC · gracedC · espiedD · sideD · thinE · skinE · croptF · loptF · stoneG · boneG · freakH · speakH · appearsI · earsI · disguiseJ · liesJ · trustK · lustK · hideL · prideL · exposeM · foesM · commandN · understandN · divineO · lineO · pleadingP · readingP · slaveQ · saveQ · yearR · peerR · relateS · fateS · furr'dT · wordT · forgotU · rotU
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 |
|---|---|---|
| In youth exalted high in air, | 8 | ··˘/˘··· |
| Or bathing in the waters fair, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Nature to form me took delight, | 8 | /˘····˘/ |
| And clad my body all in white. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| My person tall, and slender waist, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| On either side with fringes graced; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Till me that tyrant man espied, | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| And dragg'd me from my mother's side: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| No wonder now I look so thin; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The tyrant stript me to the skin: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropt: | 8 | ········ |
| At head and foot my body lopt: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And then, with heart more hard than stone, | 8 | ········ |
| He pick'd my marrow from the bone. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| To vex me more, he took a freak | 8 | ········ |
| To slit my tongue and make me speak: | 8 | ········ |
| But, that which wonderful appears, | 8 | ···/˘˘˘/ |
| I speak to eyes, and not to ears. | 8 | ········ |
| He oft employs me in disguise, | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| And makes me tell a thousand lies: | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To me he chiefly gives in trust | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| To please his malice or his lust. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| From me no secret he can hide; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I see his vanity and pride: | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| And my delight is to expose | 8 | ··˘/··˘/ |
| His follies to his greatest foes. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| All languages I can command, | 8 | ·/˘˘··˘/ |
| Yet not a word I understand. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Without my aid, the best divine | 8 | ······˘/ |
| In learning would not know a line: | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The lawyer must forget his pleading; | 9 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘ |
| The scholar could not show his reading. | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Nay; man my master is my slave; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I give command to kill or save, | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| Can grant ten thousand pounds a-year, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And make a beggar's brat a peer. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But, while I thus my life relate, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| I only hasten on my fate. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd, | 8 | ········ |
| I hardly now can force a word. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| I die unpitied and forgot, | 8 | ··˘/˘·˘/ |
| And on some dunghill left to rot. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
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.