144-] English Literature
Female suicide in Hemans' works
Several
of Hemans's characters take their own lives rather than suffer the social,
political and personal consequences of their compromised situations. At
Hemans's time, women writers were often torn between a choice of home or the
pursuit of a literary career. Hemans herself was able to balance both roles
without much public ridicule, but left hints of discontent through the themes
of feminine death in her writing. The suicides of women in Hemans's poetry
dwell on the same social issue that was confronted both culturally and personally
during her life: the choice of caged domestication or freedom of thought and
expression.
"The
Bride of the Greek Isle", "The Sicilian Captive", "The Last
Song of Sappho" and "Indian Woman's Death Song" are some of the
most notable of Hemans' works involving women's suicides. Each poem portrays a
heroine who is untimely torn from her home by a masculine force – such as
pirates, Vikings, and unrequited lovers – and forced to make the decision to
accept her new confines or command control over the situation. None of the
heroines are complacent with the tragedies that befall them, and the women
ultimately take their own lives in either a final grasp for power and
expression or a means to escape victimisation.
Selected
works
Coeur
De Lion At The Bier Of His Father
Torches
were blazing clear,
Hymns
pealing deep and slow,
Where
a king lay stately on his bier
In
the church of Fontevraud .
As
if each deeply furrowed trace
Of
earthly years to show, -
Alas!
that sceptred mortal's race
Had
surely closed in woe!
And
the holy chant was hushed awhile,
As,
by the torch's flame,
A
gleam of arms up the sweeping aisle
With
a mail-clad leader came .
He
came with haughty look,
An
eagle-glance and clear;
But
his proud heart through its breast-plate shook
When
he stood beside the bier!
"Oh,
father! is it vain,
This
late remorse and deep ?
Speak
to me, father! once again ,
I
weep, - behold, I weep!
Alas!
my guilty pride and ire!
Were
but this work undone,
I
would give England's crown, my sire!
To
hear thee bless thy son .
"Thou
that my boyhood's guide
Didst
take fond joy to be! -
The
times I've sported at thy side,
And
climbed thy parent knee!
And
there before the blessed shrine,
My
sire! I see thee lie, -
How
will that sad still face of thine
Look
on me till I die!"
From
the "Coeur De Lion At The Bier
Of
His Father" poem
Poems
by Felicia Dorothea Browne (1808)
"England
and Spain" by Felicia Dorothea Browne (1808)
The
Domestic Affections and Other Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne (1812)
"Our
Lady’s Well"
"On
the Restoration of the Works of Art to Italy" (Two editions, 1816)
"Modern
Greece" (1817)
Translations
from Camoens; and Other Poets, with Original Poetry (1818)
Hymns
on the Works of Nature, for the Use of Children
Records
of Woman: With Other Poems
"The
Better Land"
The
Vespers of Palermo (1823, play)
Casabianca
(1826, poem)
"Corinne
at the Capitol"
"Evening
Prayer at a Girls' School"
"A
Farewell to Abbotsford"
"The
Funeral Day of Sir Walter Scott"
"Hymn
by the Sick-bed of a Mother"
"Kindred
Hearts"
"The
Last Song of Sappho"
"Lines
Written in the Memoirs of Elizabeth Smith"
"The
Rock of Cader Idris"
"Stanzas
on the Late National Calamity, On the Death of the Princess Charlotte"
"Stanzas
to the Memory of George III"
"Thoughts
During Sickness: Intellectual Powers"
"To
the Eye"
"To
the New-Born"
"Woman
on the Field of Battle"
Felicia Dorothea Hemans
1793–1835
Felicia
Hemans Poems
SORT A-Z
POPULARITY
CasabiancaDesign and PerformanceDirgeFlight of the
SpiritSabbath SonnetThe Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers
Felicia
Dorothea Hemans Poems
1-
Casabianca
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though childlike form.
The flames roll'd on...he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He call'd aloud..."Say, father,say
If yet my task is done!"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
"Speak, father!" once again he cried
"If I may yet be gone!"
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death,
In still yet brave despair;
And shouted but one more aloud,
"My father, must I stay?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud
The wreathing fires made way,
They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And stream'd above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound...
The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea.
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans
2- A Spirit's Return★★★★★★★★Thy voice prevails - dear friend, my gentle friend!
This long-shut heart for thee shall be unsealed,
And though thy soft eye mournfully will bend
3- Bring Flowers
Bring flowers, young flowers, for the festal board,
To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd;
Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale,
Poem4.Alaric In Italy
Heard ye the Gothic trumpet's blast?
The march of hosts as Alaric passed?
His steps have tracked that glorious clime,
Poem5.Dirge
CALM on the bosom of thy God,
Fair spirit,
rest thee now!
E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod,
His seal was
on thy brow.
Poem6.Address To Music
OH thou! whose soft, bewitching lyre,
Can lull the sting of pain to rest;
Oh thou! whose warbling notes inspire,
Poem7.The Landing Of The Pilgrim Fathers In New
England
"Look now abroad--another race has fill'd
Those populous borders--wide the wood recedes,
And town shoots up, and fertile realms are till'd;
The land is full of harvests and green
meads."--BRYANT
Poem8.An Hour Of Romance
There were thick leaves above me and around,
And low sweet sighs like those of childhood's sleep,
Amidst their dimness, and a fitful sound
Poem9.Address To Thought
OH thou! the musing, wakeful pow'r,
That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,
Thy lonely vigils then to keep,
And banish far the angel, sleep,
Poem10.A Monarch's Death-Bed
A monarch on his death-bed lay -
Did censors waft perfume,
And soft lamps pour their silvery ray,
Thro' his proud chamber's gloom?
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