Analysis of The Curse Of The Charter-Breakers
John Greenleaf Whittier 1807 (Haverhill) – 1892 (Hampton Falls)
IN Westminster's royal halls,
Robed in their pontificals,
England's ancient prelates stood
For the people's right and good.
Closed around the waiting crowd,
Dark and still, like winter's cloud;
King and council, lord and knight,
Squire and yeoman, stood in sight;
Stood to hear the priest rehearse,
In God's name, the Church's curse,
By the tapers round them lit,
Slowly, sternly uttering it.
'Right of voice in framing laws,
Right of peers to try each cause;
Peasant homestead, mean and small,
Sacred as the monarch's hall, —
'Whoso lays his hand on these,
England's ancient liberties;
Whoso breaks, by word or deed,
England's vow at Runnymede;
'Be he Prince or belted knight,
Whatsoe'er his rank or might,
If the highest, then the worst,
Let him live and die accursed.
'Thou, who to Thy Church hast given
Keys alike, of hell and heaven,
Make our word and witness sure,
Let the curse we speak endure!'
Silent, while that curse was said,
Every bare and listening head
Bowed in reverent awe, and then
All the people said, Amen!
Seven times the bells have tolled,
For the centuries gray and old,
Since that stoled and mitred band
Cursed the tyrants of their land.
Since the priesthood, like a tower,
Stood between the poor and power;
And the wronged and trodden down
Blessed the abbot's shaven crown.
Gone, thank God, their wizard spell,
Lost, their keys of heaven and hell;
Yet I sigh for men as bold
As those bearded priests of old.
Now, too oft the priesthood wait
At the threshold of the state;
Waiting for the beck and nod
Of its power as law and God.
Fraud exults, while solemn words
Sanctify his stolen hoards;
Slavery laughs, while ghostly lips
Bless his manacles and whips.
Not on them the poor rely,
Not to them looks liberty,
Who with fawning falsehood cower
To the wrong, when clothed with power.
Oh, to see them meanly cling,
Round the master, round the king,
Sported with, and sold and bought, —
Pitifuller sight is not!
Tell me not that this must be:
God's true priest is always free;
Free, the needed truth to speak,
Right the wronged, and raise the weak.
Not to fawn on wealth and state,
Leaving Lazarus at the gate;
Not to peddle creeds like wares;
Got to mutter hireling prayers;
Nor to paint the new life's bliss
On the sable ground of this;
Golden streets for idle knave,
Sabbath rest for weary slave!
Not for words and works like these,
Priest of God, thy mission is;
But to make earth's desert glad,
In its Eden greenness clad;
And to level manhood bring
Lord and peasant, serf and king;
And the Christ of God to find
In the humblest of thy kind!.
Thine to work as well as pray,
Clearing thorny wrongs away;
Plucking up the weeds of sin,
Letting heaven's warm sunshine in;
Watching on the hills of Faith.;
Listening what the spirit saith,
Of the dim-seen light afar,
Growing like a nearing star.
God's interpreter art thou,
To the waiting ones below;
'Twixt them and its light midway
Heralding the better day;
Catching gleams of temple spires,
Hearing notes of angel choirs,
Where, as yet unseen of them,
Comes the New Jerusalem!
Like the seer of Patmos gazing,
On the glory downward blazing;
Till upon Earth's grateful sod
Rests the City of our God!
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Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01101 1011 1010101 1010101 1010101 1011101 1010101 1010101 1110101 0110101 1010111 10101001 1110101 1111111 101101 101011 111111 1010100 111111 10111 1111101 11111 1010101 111011 11111110 10111010 11010101 1011101 1011111 100101001 10100101 1010101 1010111 10100101 111011 1010111 10101010 10101010 0010101 101101 1111101 11111001 1111111 1110111 1110101 101101 1010101 11101101 1011101 1001101 10011101 11101 1110101 1111100 1110110 10111110 111111 1010101 1010101 1111 1111111 111111 1010111 1010101 1111101 10100101 1110111 111011 1110111 1010111 1011101 1011101 1110111 1111101 1111101 0110101 011011 1010101 0011111 00100111 1111111 1010101 1010111 1010110 1010111 10010101 1011101 1010101 1010011 1010101 110111 1000101 1011101 1011101 1110111 1010100 1011110 10101010 1011101 10101101 1 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,086 |
Words | 567 |
Sentences | 20 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 101 |
Lines Amount | 101 |
Letters per line (avg) | 24 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 2,469 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 564 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:55 min read
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"The Curse Of The Charter-Breakers" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 8 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/23079/the-curse-of-the-charter-breakers>.
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