Analysis of Agamemnon's Tomb.
Uplift the ponderous, golden mask of death,
And let the sun shine on him as it did
How many thousand years agone! Beneath
This worm-defying, uncorrupted lid,
Behold the young, heroic face, round-eyed,
Of one who in his full-flowered manhood died;
Of nobler frame than creatures of to-day,
Swathed in fine linen cerecloths fold on fold,
With carven weapons wrought of bronze and gold,
Accoutred like a warrior for the fray.
We gaze in awe at these huge-modeled limbs,
Shrunk in death's narrow house, but hinting yet
Their ancient majesty; these sightless rims
Whose living eyes the eyes of Helen met;
The speechless lips that ah! what tales might tell
Of earth's morning-tide when gods did dwell
Amidst a generous-fashioned, god-like race,
Who dwarf our puny semblance, and who won
The secret soul of Beauty for their own,
While all our art but crudely apes their grace.
We gather all the precious relics up,
The golden buttons chased with wondrous craft,
The sculptured trinkets and the crystal cup,
The sheathed, bronze sword, the knife with brazen haft.
Fain would we wrest with curious eyes from these
Unnumbered long-forgotten histories,
The deeds heroic of this mighty man,
On whom once more the living daylight beams,
To shame our littleness, to mock our dreams,
And the abyss of centuries to span.
Yet could we rouse him from his blind repose,
How might we meet his searching questionings,
Concerning all the follies, wrongs, and woes,
Since his great day whom men call King of Kings,
Victorious Agamemnon? How might we
Those large, clear eyes confront, which scornfully
Would view us as a poor, degenerate race,
Base-souled and mean-proportioned? What reply
Give to the beauty-loving Greek's heart-cry,
Seeking his ancient gods in vacant space?
What should he find within a world grown cold,
Save doubt and trouble? To his sunny creed
A thousand gloomy, warring sects succeed.
How of the Prince of Peace might he be told,
When over half the world the war-cloud lowers?
How would he mock these faltering hopes of ours,
Who knows the secret now of death and fate!
Humbly we gaze on the colossal frame,
And mutely we accept the mortal shame,
Of men degraded from a high estate.
Scheme | XAXABBCDDC EFEFGGHXXH IJIJKKLMML NONOXGHPPH DQQDRRSTTS |
---|---|
Poetic Form | Tetractys (20%) |
Metre | 10010010111 0101111111 110101101 1101011 0101010111 1110111011 1101110111 101101111 111011101 110100101 1101111101 1011011101 110100111 1101011101 0101111111 111011111 01010010111 11101010011 0101110111 11101110111 1101010101 0101011101 0101000101 0111011101 11111100111 11010100 0101011101 111101011 1110111101 0001110011 1111111101 1111110100 0101010101 1111111111 010001111 11110111 11110101001 1101010101 1101010111 1011010101 1111010111 1101011101 0101010101 1101111111 11010101110 111111001110 1101011101 1011100101 011010101 1101010101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,171 |
Words | 378 |
Sentences | 15 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 |
Lines Amount | 50 |
Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 347 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 76 |
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Submitted on August 03, 2020
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:54 min read
- 1 View
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"Agamemnon's Tomb." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 12 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/55158/agamemnon%27s-tomb.>.
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