To a Foil’d European Revolutionaire
Courage yet, my brother or my sister!Keep on--Liberty is to be subserv’d whatever occurs;That is nothing that is quell’d by one or two failures, or anynumber of failures,Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or by anyunfaithfulness,Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon, penal statutes.
What we believe in waits latent forever through all the continents,Invites no one, promises nothing, sits in calmness and light, ispositive and composed, knows no discouragement,Waiting patiently, waiting its time.
(Not songs of loyalty alone are these,But songs of insurrection also,For I am the sworn poet of every dauntless rebel the world over,And he going with me leaves peace and routine behind him,And stakes his life to be lost at any moment.)
The battle rages with many a loud alarm and frequent advance and retreat,The infidel triumphs, or supposes he triumphs,The prison, scaffold, garrote, handcuffs, iron necklace andleadballs do their work,The named and unnamed heroes pass to other spheres,The great speakers and writers are exiled, they lie sick in distant lands,The cause is asleep, the strongest throats are choked with their own blood,The young men droop their eyelashes toward the ground when they meet;But for all this Liberty has not gone out of the place, nor theinfidel enter’d into full possession.
When liberty goes out of a place it is not the first to go, nor thesecond or third to go,It waits for all the rest to go, it is the last.
When there are no more memories of heroes and martyrs,And when all life and all the souls of men and women are dischargedfrom any part of the earth,Then only shall liberty or the idea of liberty be discharged fromthat part of the earth,And the infidel come into full possession.
Then courage European revolter, revoltress!For till all ceases neither must you cease.
I do not know what you are for, (I do not know what I am for myself,nor what any thing is for,)But I will search carefully for it even in being foil’d,In defeat, poverty, misconception, imprisonment--for they too are great.
Did we think victory great?So it is--but now it seems to me, when it cannot be help’d, thatdefeat is great,And that death and dismay are great.
Words in this poem
- quell v. t.
- To take the life of; to kill. [OE. quellen to kill, AS. cwellan, causative of cwelan to die; akin to OHG. quellen to torment, Icel. kvelja. See Quail to cower.]
- ingratitude n.
- Want of gratitude; insensibility to, forgetfulness of, or ill return for, kindness or favors received; unthankfulness; ungratefulness. [F. ingratitude, L. ingratitudo. See Ingrate.]
- patiently adv.
- In a patient manner.
- dauntless a.
- Incapable of being daunted; undaunted; bold; fearless; intrepid.
- rebel a.
- Pertaining to rebels or rebellion; acting in revolt; rebellious; as, rebel troops. [F. rebelle, fr. L. rebellis. See Rebel, v. t.]
- infidel a.
- Not holding the faith; -- applied esp. to one who does not believe in the inspiration of the Scriptures, and the supernatural origin of Christianity. [L. infidelis; pref. in- not + fidelis faithful, fr. fides faith: cf. F. infidèle. See Fidelity.]
- 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,]
- revolter n.
- One who revolts.
- defeat v. t.
- To undo; to disfigure; to destroy. [From F. défait, OF. desfait, p. p. ofe défaire, OF. desfaire, to undo; L. dis- + facere to do. See Feat, Fact, and cf. Disfashion.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To a Foil’d European Revolutionaire is in the public domain. This text is taken from Leaves of Grass, Project Gutenberg ebook #1322; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Walt Whitman, To a Foil’d European Revolutionaire, in Leaves of Grass (1855–1892), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1322, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/whitman-leaves/to-a-foil-d-european-revolutionaire.html, id L03987.
Form and metre
To a Foil’d European Revolutionaire is 45 lines in 9 stanzas. 80% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 12.7 syllables. 13 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 20% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
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 -ABAB-- sister · occursA · anyB · failuresA · anyB · unfaithfulness · statutes
- 4 A------A-- retreatA · triumphs · and · work · spheres · lands · blood · meetA · the · possession
- 6 --A-A- martyrs · discharged · earthA · from · earthA · possession
- 9 A-AA greatA · that · greatA · greatA
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 |
|---|---|---|
| Courage yet, my brother or my sister! | 10 | /˘··/˘··/˘ |
| Keep on--Liberty is to be subserv’d whatever occurs; | 15 | ··/˘˘······/˘˘/ |
| That is nothing that is quell’d by one or two failures, or any | 16 | ··/˘·······/˘·/˘ |
| number of failures, | 5 | /˘·/˘ |
| Or by the indifference or ingratitude of the people, or by any | 20 | ···˘/˘˘·˘/˘˘··/˘··/˘ |
| unfaithfulness, | 4 | ···· |
| Or the show of the tushes of power, soldiers, cannon, penal statutes. | 18 | ·····/˘·/˘/˘/˘/˘/˘ |
| What we believe in waits latent forever through all the continents, | 17 | ··˘/··/˘˘/˘···/˘˘ |
| Invites no one, promises nothing, sits in calmness and light, is | 16 | ˘/··/˘˘/˘··/˘··· |
| positive and composed, knows no discouragement, | 12 | /˘˘·˘/··˘/˘˘ |
| Waiting patiently, waiting its time. | 9 | /˘/˘˘/˘·· |
| (Not songs of loyalty alone are these, | 10 | ···/˘˘˘/·· |
| But songs of insurrection also, | 9 | ····˘/˘/˘ |
| For I am the sworn poet of every dauntless rebel the world over, | 19 | ·····/˘·/˘˘/˘/˘···· |
| And he going with me leaves peace and routine behind him, | 14 | ··/˘·····˘/··· |
| And stakes his life to be lost at any moment.) | 12 | ········/˘/˘ |
| The battle rages with many a loud alarm and frequent advance and retreat, | 20 | ·/˘/˘·/˘··˘/·/˘˘/·˘/ |
| The infidel triumphs, or supposes he triumphs, | 13 | ·/˘·/˘·˘/˘·/˘ |
| The prison, scaffold, garrote, handcuffs, iron necklace and | 14 | ·/˘/˘˘//·/˘/˘· |
| leadballs do their work, | 5 | ····· |
| The named and unnamed heroes pass to other spheres, | 12 | ···˘//˘··/˘· |
| The great speakers and writers are exiled, they lie sick in distant lands, | 17 | ··/˘·/˘·/·····/˘· |
| The cause is asleep, the strongest throats are choked with their own blood, | 15 | ···˘/·/˘······· |
| The young men droop their eyelashes toward the ground when they meet; | 15 | ·····/·˘······· |
| But for all this Liberty has not gone out of the place, nor the | 16 | ····/˘˘········· |
| infidel enter’d into full possession. | 11 | /˘·/˘···˘/˘ |
| When liberty goes out of a place it is not the first to go, nor the | 18 | ·/˘˘·············· |
| second or third to go, | 6 | /˘···· |
| It waits for all the rest to go, it is the last. | 12 | ············ |
| When there are no more memories of heroes and martyrs, | 14 | ·····/˘˘·/˘·/˘ |
| And when all life and all the souls of men and women are discharged | 16 | ···········/˘·˘/ |
| from any part of the earth, | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Then only shall liberty or the idea of liberty be discharged from | 20 | ·/˘·/˘˘··˘/˘·/˘˘·˘/· |
| that part of the earth, | 5 | ····· |
| And the infidel come into full possession. | 12 | ··/˘·····˘/˘ |
| Then courage European revolter, revoltress! | 13 | ·/˘·˘/˘˘/˘··· |
| For till all ceases neither must you cease. | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| I do not know what you are for, (I do not know what I am for myself, | 18 | ·················/ |
| nor what any thing is for,) | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| But I will search carefully for it even in being foil’d, | 15 | ····/˘˘··/˘·/˘· |
| In defeat, poverty, misconception, imprisonment--for they too are great. | 19 | ·˘//˘˘˘˘/˘˘/˘˘····· |
| Did we think victory great? | 7 | ···/˘˘· |
| So it is--but now it seems to me, when it cannot be help’d, that | 16 | ···········/˘··· |
| defeat is great, | 4 | ˘/·· |
| And that death and dismay are great. | 8 | ····˘/·· |
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