Analysis of Sigismond And Guiscardo. From Boccace

John Dryden 1631 (Aldwincle) – 1631 (London)



While Norman Tancred in Salerno reigned,
The title of a gracious Prince he gained;
Till turned a tyrant in his latter days,
He lost the lustre of his former praise,
And from the bright meridian where he stood
Descending dipped his hands in lovers' blood.

This Prince, of Fortune's favour long possessed,
Yet was with one fair daughter only blessed;
And blessed he might have been with her alone,
But oh! how much more happy had he none!
She was his care, his hope, and his delight,
Most in his thought, and ever in his sight:
Next, nay beyond his life, he held her dear;
She lived by him, and now he lived in her.
For this, when ripe for marriage, he delayed
Her nuptial bands, and kept her long a maid,
As envying any else should share a part
Of what was his, and claiming all her heart.
At length, as public decency required,
And all his vassals eagerly desired,
With mind averse, he rather underwent
His people's will than gave his own consent.
So was she torn, as from a lover's side,
And made, almost in his despite, a bride.

Short were her marriage joys; for in the prime
Of youth, her lord expired before his time;
And to her father's court in little space
Restored anew, she held a higher place;
More loved, and more exalted into grace.
This Princess, fresh and young, and fair and wise,
The worshipped idol of her father's eyes,
Did all her sex in every grace exceed,
And had more wit beside than women need.

Youth, health, and ease, and most an amorous mind,
To second nuptials had her thoughts inclined;
And former joys had left a secret string behind.
But, prodigal in every other grant,
Her sire left unsupplied her only want,
And she, betwixt her modesty and pride,
Her wishes, which she could not help, would hide.

Resolved at last to lose no longer time,
And yet to please her self without a crime,
She cast her eyes around the court, to find
A worthy subject suiting to her mind,
To him in holy nuptials to be tied,
A seeming widow, and a secret bride.
Among the train of courtiers, one she found
With all the gifts of bounteous nature crowned,
Of gentle blood, but one whose niggard fate
Had set him far below her high estate:
Guiscard his name was called, of blooming age,
Now squire to Tancred, and before his page:
To him, the choice of all the shining crowd,
Her heart the noble Sigismonda vowed.

Yet hitherto she kept her love concealed,
And with close glances every day beheld
The graceful youth; and every day increased
The raging fire that burned within her breast;
Some secret charm did all his acts attend,
And what his fortune wanted hers could mend;
Till, as the fire will force its outward way,
Or, in the prison pent, consume the prey,
So long her earnest eyes on his were set,
At length their twisted rays together met;
And he, surprised with humble joy, surveyed
One sweet regard, shot by the royal maid.
Not well assured, while doubtful hopes he nursed,
A second glance came gliding like the first;
And he, who saw the sharpness of the dart,
Without defence received it in his heart.
In public, though their passion wanted speech,
Yet mutual looks interpreted for each:
Time, ways, and means of meeting were denied,
But all those wants ingenious Love supplied.
The inventive god, who never fails his part,
Inspires the wit when once he warms the heart.

When Guiscard next was in the circle seen,
Where Sigismonda held the place of queen,
A hollow cane within her hand she brought,
But in the concave had enclosed a note;
With this she seemed to play, and, as in sport,
Tossed to her love in presence of the court;
'Take it,' she said, 'and when your needs require,
'This little brand will serve to light your fire.'
He took it with a bow, and soon divined
The seeming toy was not for nought designed:
But when retired, so long with curious eyes
He viewed the present, that he found the prize.
Much was in little writ; and all conveyed
With cautious care, for fear to be betrayed
By some false confident or favourite maid.
The time, the place, the manner how to meet,
Were all in punctual order plainly writ:
But since a trust must be, she thought it best
To put it out of laymen's power at least,
And for their solemn vows prepared a priest.

Guiscard, her secret purpose understood,
With joy prepared to meet he coming good;
Nor pains nor danger was resolved to spare,
But use the means appointed by the fair.

Near the proud palace of Salerno stood
A mount of rough ascent, and thick with wood;
Through t


Scheme AABBCX DDXXEEXFGGHHIIJJKK LLMMMNNOO PPPXXKK LLPPKKQQRRSSTT XAUDVVWWXXGGYYHHZZKKHH 1 1 XX2 2 FFAPNNGGGXXDUU CC3 3 CCX
Poetic Form
Metre 110100101 0101010111 1101001101 1101011101 01010100111 0101110101 111101101 1111110101 0111111001 1111110111 1111110101 1011010011 1101111101 1111011100 1111110101 0101010101 111011101 1111010101 11110100010 01110100010 110111001 1101111101 1111110101 011010101 1001011001 1101010111 0101010101 0101110101 1101010011 1101010101 0101010101 11010100101 0111011101 11010111001 110110101 010111010101 11000100101 010110101 0101010001 0101111111 0111111101 0111010101 1101010111 0100110101 110101111 0101000101 01011100111 110111101 1101111101 1111010101 111111101 111100111 1101110101 0101011 111110101 0111010011 01010100101 01010110101 1101111101 0111010011 11010111101 1001010101 1101011101 1111010101 0101110101 1101110101 1101110111 0101110101 0111010101 0101011011 0101110101 11001010011 1101110001 1111010101 00101110111 0101111101 111100101 1110111 0101010111 1000110101 1111110101 1101010101 1111011110 11011111110 111101011 0101111101 11011111001 1101011101 1101010101 1101111101 111100111 0101010111 01010010101 1101111111 1111111011 0111010101 10101001 1101111101 1111010111 1101010101 1011010101 0111010111 11
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 4,340
Words 815
Sentences 23
Stanzas 9
Stanza Lengths 6, 18, 9, 7, 14, 22, 20, 4, 3
Lines Amount 103
Letters per line (avg) 34
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 385
Words per stanza (avg) 90
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:05 min read
68

John Dryden

John Dryden was an English poet, literary critic, translator, and playwright who was made Poet Laureate in 1668. more…

All John Dryden poems | John Dryden Books

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