Analysis of Julian and Maddalo (excerpt)
Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792 (Horsham) – 1822 (Lerici)
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heap'd from ever-shifting sand,
Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds,
Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds,
Is this; an uninhabited sea-side,
Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried,
Abandons; and no other object breaks
The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes
Broken and unrepair'd, and the tide makes
A narrow space of level sand thereon,
Where 'twas our wont to ride while day went down.
This ride was my delight. I love all waste
And solitary places; where we taste
The pleasure of believing what we see
Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be:
And such was this wide ocean, and this shore
More barren than its billows; and yet more
Than all, with a remember'd friend I love
To ride as then I rode; for the winds drove
The living spray along the sunny air
Into our faces; the blue heavens were bare,
Stripp'd to their depths by the awakening north;
And, from the waves, sound like delight broke forth
Harmonizing with solitude, and sent
Into our hearts aëreal merriment.
So, as we rode, we talk'd; and the swift thought,
Winging itself with laughter, linger'd not,
But flew from brain to brain--such glee was ours,
Charg'd with light memories of remember'd hours,
None slow enough for sadness: till we came
Homeward, which always makes the spirit tame.
This day had been cheerful but cold, and now
The sun was sinking, and the wind also.
Our talk grew somewhat serious, as may be
Talk interrupted with such raillery
As mocks itself, because it cannot scorn
The thoughts it would extinguish: 'twas forlorn,
Yet pleasing, such as once, so poets tell,
The devils held within the dales of Hell
Concerning God, freewill and destiny:
Of all that earth has been or yet may be,
All that vain men imagine or believe,
Or hope can paint or suffering may achieve,
We descanted, and I (for ever still
Is it not wise to make the best of ill?)
Argu'd against despondency, but pride
Made my companion take the darker side.
The sense that he was greater than his kind
Had struck, methinks, his eagle spirit blind
By gazing on its own exceeding light.
Meanwhile the sun paus'd ere it should alight,
Over the horizon of the mountains--Oh,
How beautiful is sunset, when the glow
Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee,
Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!
Thy mountains, seas, and vineyards, and the towers
Of cities they encircle! It was ours
To stand on thee, beholding it: and then,
Just where we had dismounted, the Count's men
Were waiting for us with the gondola.
As those who pause on some delightful way
Though bent on pleasant pilgrimage, we stood
Looking upon the evening, and the flood
Which lay between the city and the shore,
Pav'd with the image of the sky.... The hoar
And aëry Alps towards the North appear'd
Through mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark rear'd
Between the East and West; and half the sky
Was roof'd with clouds of rich emblazonry
Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew
Down the steep West into a wondrous hue
Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent
Where the swift sun yet paus'd in his descent
Among the many-folded hills: they were
Those famous Euganean hills, which bear,
As seen from Lido thro' the harbour piles,
The likeness of a clump of peakèd isles--
And then--as if the Earth and Sea had been
Dissolv'd into one lake of fire, were seen
Those mountains towering as from waves of flame
Around the vaporous sun, from which there came
The inmost purple spirit of light, and made
Their very peaks transparent. "Ere it fade,"
Said my companion, "I will show you soon
A better station"--so, o'er the lagune
We glided; and from that funereal bark
I lean'd, and saw the city, and could mark
How from their many isles, in evening's gleam,
Its temples and its palaces did seem
Like fabrics of enchantment pil'd to Heaven.
I was about to speak, when--"We are even
Now at the point I meant," said Maddalo,
And bade the gondolieri cease to row.
"Look, Julian, on the west, and listen well
If you hear not a deep and heavy bell."
I look'd, and saw between us and the sun
A building on an island; such a one
As age to age might add, for uses vile
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 11110111 0101111101 11000110011 111110101 1110001001 1111010111 111010011 1011011111 0100110101 0111110111 10010011 0101110101 11101111111 1111011111 010010111 0101010111 11011110111 0111110011 1101110011 1110010111 1111111011 0101010101 011010011001 11111001001 0101110111 10011001 01101011 1111110011 1001110101 11111111110 111100101010 1101110111 101110101 1111101101 0111000110 101111100111 1010111 1101011101 0111010101 1101111101 0101010111 010110100 1111111111 1111010101 11111100101 11011101 1111110111 1001010011 1101010101 0111110111 111110101 1101110101 101111101 10001010101 110011101 11001010111 11011100 11010100010 11010101110 1111010101 11111011 0101110100 1111110101 1111010011 1001010001 1101010001 1101010101 0011010101 11110010101 0101010101 1111111 1101010111 1011010101 10110110101 1011110101 0101010110 1101111 1111010101 0101011111 0111010111 01011111001 11010011111 010111111 0110101101 1101010111 1101011111 0101011001 11001111 1101010011 1111010101 1100110011 11010101110 11011111110 11011111 0101111 11001010101 1111010101 1101011001 0101110101 1111111101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,360 |
Words | 768 |
Sentences | 17 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 100 |
Lines Amount | 100 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 3,307 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 762 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:57 min read
- 174 Views
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"Julian and Maddalo (excerpt)" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 19 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/29140/julian-and-maddalo-%28excerpt%29>.
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