The Armada I
Sixtus, Pope of the Church whose hope takes flight for heaven todethrone the sun,Philip, king that wouldst turn our spring to winter, blasted,appalled, undone,Prince and priest, let a mourner's feast give thanks to God foryour conquest won.
England's heel is upon you: kneel, O priest, O prince, in the dust,and cry,"Lord, why thus? art thou wroth with us whose faith was great inthee, God most high?Whence is this, that the serpent's hiss derides us? Lord, can thypledged word lie?
"God of hell, are its flames that swell quenched now for ever,extinct and dead?Who shall fear thee? or who shall hear the word thy servants whofeared thee said?Lord, art thou as the dead gods now, whose arm is shortened, whoserede is read?
"Yet we thought it was not for nought thy word was given us, toguard and guide:Yet we deemed that they had not dreamed who put their trust inthee. Hast thou lied?God our Lord, was the sacred sword we drew not drawn on thyChurch's side?
"England hates thee as hell's own gates; and England triumphs, andRome bows down:England mocks at thee; England's rocks cast off thy servants todrive and drown:England loathes thee; and fame betroths and plights with Englandher faith for crown.
"Spain clings fast to thee; Spain, aghast with anguish, cries tothee; where art thou?Spain puts trust in thee; lo, the dust that soils and darkens herprostrate brow!Spain is true to thy service; who shall raise up Spain for thyservice now?
"Who shall praise thee, if none may raise thy servants up, noraffright thy foes?Winter wanes, and the woods and plains forget the likeness ofstorms and snows:So shall fear of thee fade even here: and what shall follow thee noman knows."
Lords of night, who would breathe your blight on April's morningand August's noon,God your Lord, the condemned, the abhorred, sinks hellward, smittenwith deathlike swoon:Death's own dart in his hateful heart now thrills, and night shallreceive him soon.
God the Devil, thy reign of revel is here for ever eclipsed andfled:God the Liar, everlasting fire lays hold at last on thee, hand andhead:God the Accurst, the consuming thirst that burns thee never shallhere be fed.
Words in this poem
- blasted a.
- Blighted; withered.
- undone a.
- Not done or performed; neglected. [Pref. un- not + done.]
- kneel v. i.
- To bend the knee; to fall or rest on the knees; -- sometimes with down. [OE. knelen, cneolien; akin to D. knielen, Dan. knæle. See Knee.]
- wroth a.
- Full of wrath; angry; incensed; much exasperated; wrathful. [OE. wroth, wrap, AS. wraedh wroth, crooked, bad; akin to wriedhan to writhe, and to OS. wreedhangry, D. wreed cruel, OHG. reid twisted, Icel. reiedhr angry, Dan]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- rede v. t.
- To advise or counsel. [See Read, v. t.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- lied n.
- A lay; a German song. It differs from the French chanson, and the Italian canzone, all three being national. [G.]
- hateful a.
- Manifesting hate or hatred; malignant; malevolent.
- liar n.
- A person who knowingly utters falsehood; one who lies. [OE. liere. See Lie to falsify.]
- accurst p. p.
- Doomed to destruction or misery; cursed; hence, bad enough to be under the curse; execrable; detestable; exceedingly hateful; -- as, an accursed deed.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Armada I is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems and Ballads (Third Series) Taken from The Collected Poetical Works of Algernon Charles Swinburne—Vol. III, Project Gutenberg ebook #18726; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Algernon Charles Swinburne, The Armada I, in Poems and Ballads (1866), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18726, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/swinburne-poems-ballads/the-armada-i-7.html, id L25377.
Form and metre
The Armada I is 54 lines in 9 stanzas of 6 lines each.
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 -A-A-A to · sunA · blasted · undoneA · for · wonA
- 2 -A-AAA dust · cryA · in · highA · thyA · lieA
- 3 -A-A-A ever · deadA · who · saidA · whose · readA
- 4 -A-A-A to · guideA · in · liedA · thy · sideA
- 5 -A-A-A and · downA · to · drownA · england · crownA
- 6 -A-A-A to · thouA · her · browA · thy · nowA
- 7 -A-A-A nor · foesA · of · snowsA · no · knowsA
- 8 -AAA-A morning · noonA · smittenA · swoonA · shall · soonA
- 9 ABAB-B andA · fledB · andA · headB · shall · fedB
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. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Sixtus, Pope of the Church whose hope takes flight for heaven to | 13 | ···········/· |
| dethrone the sun, | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Philip, king that wouldst turn our spring to winter, blasted, | 13 | /˘····/··/˘/˘ |
| appalled, undone, | 4 | ˘/˘/ |
| Prince and priest, let a mourner's feast give thanks to God for | 13 | ·····/˘······ |
| your conquest won. | 4 | ·/˘· |
| England's heel is upon you: kneel, O priest, O prince, in the dust, | 15 | /˘············· |
| and cry, | 2 | ·· |
| "Lord, why thus? art thou wroth with us whose faith was great in | 13 | ············· |
| thee, God most high? | 4 | ···· |
| Whence is this, that the serpent's hiss derides us? Lord, can thy | 14 | ·····/˘·˘/···· |
| pledged word lie? | 3 | ··· |
| "God of hell, are its flames that swell quenched now for ever, | 12 | ···········/ |
| extinct and dead? | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Who shall fear thee? or who shall hear the word thy servants who | 14 | ···········/˘· |
| feared thee said? | 3 | ··· |
| Lord, art thou as the dead gods now, whose arm is shortened, whose | 14 | ···········/˘· |
| rede is read? | 3 | ··· |
| "Yet we thought it was not for nought thy word was given us, to | 14 | ···········/·· |
| guard and guide: | 3 | ··· |
| Yet we deemed that they had not dreamed who put their trust in | 13 | ············· |
| thee. Hast thou lied? | 4 | ···· |
| God our Lord, was the sacred sword we drew not drawn on thy | 14 | ·/···/˘······· |
| Church's side? | 3 | /˘· |
| "England hates thee as hell's own gates; and England triumphs, and | 14 | /˘·······/˘/˘· |
| Rome bows down: | 3 | ··· |
| England mocks at thee; England's rocks cast off thy servants to | 14 | /˘···/˘····/˘· |
| drive and drown: | 3 | ··· |
| England loathes thee; and fame betroths and plights with England | 13 | /˘·········/˘ |
| her faith for crown. | 4 | ···· |
| "Spain clings fast to thee; Spain, aghast with anguish, cries to | 13 | ······˘/·/˘·· |
| thee; where art thou? | 4 | ···· |
| Spain puts trust in thee; lo, the dust that soils and darkens her | 14 | ···········/˘· |
| prostrate brow! | 3 | /˘· |
| Spain is true to thy service; who shall raise up Spain for thy | 14 | ·····/˘······· |
| service now? | 3 | /˘· |
| "Who shall praise thee, if none may raise thy servants up, nor | 13 | ·········/˘·· |
| affright thy foes? | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Winter wanes, and the woods and plains forget the likeness of | 14 | /˘······˘/·/˘· |
| storms and snows: | 3 | ··· |
| So shall fear of thee fade even here: and what shall follow thee no | 15 | ······/····/˘·· |
| man knows." | 2 | ·· |
| Lords of night, who would breathe your blight on April's morning | 13 | ·········/˘/˘ |
| and August's noon, | 4 | ·/˘· |
| God your Lord, the condemned, the abhorred, sinks hellward, smitten | 14 | ····˘/·˘/·/˘/˘ |
| with deathlike swoon: | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Death's own dart in his hateful heart now thrills, and night shall | 13 | ·····/˘······ |
| receive him soon. | 4 | ˘/·· |
| God the Devil, thy reign of revel is here for ever eclipsed and | 15 | ··/···/˘···/˘/· |
| fled: | 1 | · |
| God the Liar, everlasting fire lays hold at last on thee, hand and | 16 | ··/·˘/˘/········ |
| head: | 1 | · |
| God the Accurst, the consuming thirst that burns thee never shall | 14 | ·····˘/˘····/· |
| here be fed. | 3 | ··· |
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.