Pocahontas
Wearied arm and broken swordWage in vain the desperate fight:Round him press a countless horde,He is but a single knight.Hark! a cry of triumph shrillThrough the wilderness resounds,As, with twenty bleeding wounds,Sinks the warrior, fighting still.
Now they heap the fatal pyre,And the torch of death they light:Ah! 'tis hard to die of fire!Who will shield the captive knight?Round the stake with fiendish cryWheel and dance the savage crowd,Cold the victim's mien, and proud.And his breast is bared to die.
Who will shield the fearless heart?Who avert the murderous blade?From the throng, with sudden start,See there springs an Indian maid.Quick she stands before the knight,"Loose the chain, unbind the ring,I am daughter of the king,And I claim the Indian right!"
Dauntlessly aside she flingsLifted axe and thirsty knife;Fondly to his heart she clings,And her bosom guards his life!In the woods of Powhattan,Still 'tis told by Indian fires,How a daughter of their siresSaved the captive Englishman.
Words in this poem
- wage v. i.
- To bind one's self; to engage.
- desperate a.
- Without hope; given to despair; hopeless. [L. desperatus, p. p. of desperare. See Despair, and cf. Desperado.]
- countless a.
- Incapable of being counted; not ascertainable; innumerable.
- horde n.
- A wandering troop or gang; especially, a clan or tribe of a nomadic people migrating from place to place for the sake of pasturage, plunder, etc.; a predatory multitude. Thomson. [F. horde (cf. G. horde), fr. Turk. ord, ordi, camp; of Tartar origin.]
- pyre n.
- A funeral pile; a combustible heap on which the dead are burned; hence, any pile to be burnt. [L. pure, Gr. Fire.]
- fiendish a.
- Like a fiend; diabolically wicked or cruel; infernal; malignant; devilish; hellish.
- fondly adv.
- Foolishly. Verstegan (1673).
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Pocahontas is in the public domain. This text is taken from Ballads, Project Gutenberg ebook #2732; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Makepeace Thackeray, Pocahontas, in Ballads (1849–1855), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #2732, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/thackeray-ballads/pocahontas.html, id L10354.
Form and metre
Pocahontas is 32 lines in 4 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDDC, complete in 2 of its 4 stanzas. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 91%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.3 syllables. 4 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 16% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic 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 ABABC--C swordA · fightB · hordeA · knightB · shrillC · resounds · wounds · stillC
- 2 ABABCDDC pyreA · lightB · fireA · knightB · cryC · crowdD · proudD · dieC
- 3 ABABCDDC heartA · bladeB · startA · maidB · knightC · ringD · kingD · rightC
- 4 ABAB-CC- flingsA · knifeB · clingsA · lifeB · powhattan · firesC · siresC · englishman
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 trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Wearied arm and broken sword | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Wage in vain the desperate fight: | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Round him press a countless horde, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| He is but a single knight. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Hark! a cry of triumph shrill | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Through the wilderness resounds, | 7 | ··/˘˘·/ |
| As, with twenty bleeding wounds, | 7 | ··/˘/˘· |
| Sinks the warrior, fighting still. | 8 | ··/˘˘/˘· |
| Now they heap the fatal pyre, | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| And the torch of death they light: | 7 | ······· |
| Ah! 'tis hard to die of fire! | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Who will shield the captive knight? | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Round the stake with fiendish cry | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Wheel and dance the savage crowd, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Cold the victim's mien, and proud. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And his breast is bared to die. | 8 | ·····˘·· |
| Who will shield the fearless heart? | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Who avert the murderous blade? | 8 | ·˘/·/˘˘· |
| From the throng, with sudden start, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| See there springs an Indian maid. | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Quick she stands before the knight, | 7 | ······· |
| "Loose the chain, unbind the ring, | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| I am daughter of the king, | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| And I claim the Indian right!" | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Dauntlessly aside she flings | 7 | ···˘/·· |
| Lifted axe and thirsty knife; | 7 | /˘··/˘· |
| Fondly to his heart she clings, | 7 | /˘····· |
| And her bosom guards his life! | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| In the woods of Powhattan, | 7 | ······· |
| Still 'tis told by Indian fires, | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| How a daughter of their sires | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Saved the captive Englishman. | 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.