Analysis of The Last Banquet Of Antony And Cleopatra

Felicia Dorothea Hemans 1793 (Liverpool, Lancashire) – 1835 (Dublin, County Dublin)



Thy foes had girt thee with their dead array,
O stately Alexandra! - yet the sound
Of mirth and music, at the close of day,
Swelled from thy splendid fabrics, far around
O'er camp and wave. Within the royal hall,
In gay magnificence the feast was spread;
And, brightly streaming from the pictured wall,
A thousand lamps their trembling lustre shed
O'er many a column, rich with precious dyes,
That tinge the marble's vein, 'neath Afric's burning skies.

And soft and clear that wavering radiance played
O'er sculptured forms, that round the pillared scene
Calm and majestic rose, by art arrayed
In goldlike beauty, awfully serene.
Oh! how unlike the troubled guests reclined
Round that luxurious board! - in every face
Some shadow from the tempest of the mind
Rising by fits, the searching eye might trace,
Though vainly masked in smiles which are not mirth,
But the proud spirit's veil thrown o'er the woes of earth.

Their brows are bound with wreaths, whose transient bloom
May still survive the wearers - and the rose
Perchance may scarce be withered when the tomb
Receives the mighty to its dark repose!
The day must dawn on battle, and may set
In death - but fill the mantling wine-cup high!
Despair is fearless, and the Fates e'en yet
Lend her one hour for parting revelry.
They who the empire of the world possessed,
Would taste its joys again, ere all exchanged for rest.

Its joys! oh, mark yon proud triumvir's mien,
And read their annals on that brow of care;
'Midst pleasure's lotus-bowers his steps have been;
Earth's brightest pathway led him to despair.
Trust not the glace that fain would yet inspire
The buoyant energies of days gone by;
There is delusion in its meteor-fire,
And all within is shame, is agony!
Away! the tear in bitterness may flow,
But there are smiles which bear a stamp of deeper woe.

Thy cheek is sunk, and faded as thy fame,
O lost, devoted Roman! yet thy brow
To that ascendant and undying name,
Pleads with stern loftiness that right e'en now.
Thy glory is departed, but hath left
A lingering light around thee - in decay
Not less than kingly, though of all bereft,
Thou seem'st as empire had not passed away
Supreme in ruin! teaching hearts elate,
A deep, prophetic dread of still mysterious fate!

But thou, enchantress-queen! whose love hath made
His desolation - thou art by his side,
In all thy sovereignty of charms arrayed,
To meet the storm with still unconquered pride.
Imperial being! e'en though many a stain
Of error be upon thee, there is power
In thy commanding nature, which shall reign
O'er the stern genius of misfortune's hour;
And the dark beauty of thy troubled eye
E'en now is all illumed with wild sublimity.

Thine aspect, all impassioned, wears a light
Inspiring and inspired - thy cheek a dye,
Which rises not from joy, but yet is bright
With the deep glow of feverish energy.
Proud siren of the Nile! thy glance is fraught
With an immortal fire - in every beam
It darts, there kindles some heroic thought,
But wild and awful as a sibyl's dream;
For though with death hast communed, to attain
Dread knowledge of the pangs that ransom from the chain.

And the stern courage by such musings lent,
Daughter of Afric! o'er thy beauty throws
The grandeur of a regal spirit, blent
With all the majesty of mighty woes;
While he, so fondly, fatally adored,
Thy fallen Roman, gazes on thee yet,
Till scarce the soul, that once exulting soared,
Can deem the day-star of its glory set;
Scarce his charmed heart believes that power can be
In sovereign fate, o'er him thus fondly loved by thee.

But there is sadness in the eyes around,
Which marked that ruined leader, and survey
His changeful mien, whence oft the gloom profound
Strange triumph chases haughtily away.
'Fill the bright goblet, warrior guests!' he cries;
'Quaff, ere we part, the generous nectar deep!
Ere sunset gild once more the western skies,
Your chief in cold forgetfulness may sleep,
While sounds of revel float o'er shore and sea,
And the red bowl again is crowned - but not for me.

'Yet weep not thus - the struggle is not o'er,
O victors of Philippi! many a field
Hath yielded palms to us; - one effort more,
By one stern conflict must our doom be sealed!
Forget not, Romans! o'er a subject world
How royally your eagle's wing hath spread,
Though, from his eyrie of dominion hurled,
Now bursts the tempest on his crested head!
Yet sovereign still, if banished from the sky,
The sun's indignant bird, he must n


Scheme ABABCDCDEE FGFGHIHIJJ KLKLMNMOPP GQXQXNROSS TUTUVAVAWW FXFXYRYRNB ZNZO1 2 1 2 YY XLBL3 M3 MOO BABAE4 E4 OO R5 X5 6 D6 DNX
Poetic Form
Metre 1111111101 110010101 1101010111 1111010101 10101010101 0110111 0101010101 01011100101 101001011101 11010111101 010111001001 10101110101 1001011101 01101001 1101010101 110100101001 111010101 1011010111 1101011111 1011011100111 1111111101 1101010001 0111110101 0101011101 0111110011 011101111 01110001111 10110110100 11010010101 111101110111 11111111 0111011111 1110101111 110111101 1101111101 0101001111 110100110010 0101111100 0101010011 111111011101 1111010111 1101010111 1101000101 111111111 1101010111 01001011001 1111011101 111110011101 0101010101 0101011101001 11111111 101011111 0111001101 11011111 0100101111001 11010111110 0101010111 1001101110 0011011101 111111111 111010101 01000101101 1101111111 10111100100 1101011111 110101001001 111110101 110101011 111111101 110101110101 0011011101 1011101101 0011010101 1101001101 1111010001 1101010111 1101110101 1101111101 11110111011 0101101110111 1111000101 1111010001 111110101 1101010001 10110100111 11110100101 111110101 1101111 11110110101 001101111111 11110101110 11010101001 1101111101 11110110111 01110100011 1100110111 1111010101 1101011101 1101110101 010101111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,352
Words 787
Sentences 38
Stanzas 10
Stanza Lengths 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
Lines Amount 100
Letters per line (avg) 35
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 348
Words per stanza (avg) 79
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 23, 2023

4:03 min read
59

Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Felicia Dorothea Hemans was an English poet. Two of her opening lines, "The boy stood on the burning deck" and "The stately homes of England", have acquired classic status. more…

All Felicia Dorothea Hemans poems | Felicia Dorothea Hemans Books

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