“WRECK OF THE HESPERUS”
It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintery sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax,
Her cheeks like the dawn of day,
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,
That ope in the month of May.
The Skipper he stood beside the helm,
His pipe was in his mouth,
And he watched how the veering flaw did blow
The smoke now West, now South.
Then up and spake an old Sailor,
Had sailed the Spanish Main,
“I pray thee, put into yonder port,
for I fear a hurricane.
“Last night the moon had a golden ring,
And to-night no moon we see!”
The skipper, he blew whiff from his pipe,
And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Colder and louder blew the wind,
A gale from the Northeast,
The snow fell hissing in the brine,
And the billows frothed like yeast.
Down came the storm, and smote amain
The vessel in its strength;
She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed,
Then leaped her cable’s length.
“Come hither! come hither! my little daughter,
And do not tremble so;
For I can weather the roughest gale
That ever wind did blow.”
He wrapped her warm in his seaman’s coat
Against the stinging blast;
He cut a rope from a broken spar,
And bound her to the mast.
“O father! I hear the church bells ring,
Oh, say, what may it be?“
“Tis a fog-bell on a rock bound coast!” –
And he steered for the open sea.
“O father! I hear the sound of guns;
Oh, say, what may it be?“
Some ship in distress, that cannot live
In such an angry sea!”
“O father! I see a gleaming light.
Oh say, what may it be?“
But the father answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was he.
Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark,
With his face turned to the skies,
The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow
On his fixed and glassy eyes.
Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed
That saved she might be;
And she thought of Christ, who stilled the wave,
On the Lake of Galilee.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear,
Through the whistling sleet and snow,
Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept
Tow’rds the reef of Norman’s Woe.
And ever the fitful gusts between
A sound came from the land;
It was the sound of the trampling surf,
On the rocks and hard sea-sand.
The breakers were right beneath her bows,
She drifted a dreary wreck,
And a whooping billow swept the crew
Like icicles from her deck.
She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,
But the cruel rocks, they gored her side
Like the horns of an angry bull.
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board;
Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared!
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
To see the form of a maiden fair,
Lashed close to a drifting mast.
The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes;
And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
On the billows fall and rise.
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow!
Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman’s Woe!
Katelyn Adams
Jessica Robinson
Honors English III
22 December 2008
Unavoidable Fate: Analytical Examination on “The Wreck of the Hesperus”
In “The Wreck of the Hesperus” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow repetition, metaphors, and personification are used to show that there is no way to stop tragedy. Longfellow’s poem depicts the wreck of the Hesperus upon Norman’s Woe. With the help of imagery the reader witnesses the death of an entire crew as well as a heart breaking scene with Captain who frantically tries to save his daughter, and fails. Although not everyone has gone through such a tragic and heart wrenching loss of a loved one, surely everyone has gone through a loss of some sort; Longfellow uses his poem to tell not only of a horrific wreck but also to tell the reader that terrible things will always happen to people, and sometimes there is no way to prevent them.
When the storm first erupts the daughter asks thrice “O father! […] Oh say, what may it be?”, and through the repetition of this simple question Longfellow spurs curiosity in the reader. What is happening? Why does she keep asking that question over and over again? There has to be some importance! The importance of her questions is solidified with her father’s abrupt answers. His casually tell of the death of others, “Some ship in distress that cannot live in such an angry sea”; his nonchalance makes it seem as though he feels as though he is guaranteed to survive. He “steer[s] for the open sea” because he thinks that he can out run something that is already upon him. Through logical thinking the reader can assume that the arrogant man will rue his vain attempts of stopping the unstoppable Mother Nature.
After the Captain’s death Longfellow continues to describe the storm so that the reader can fully understand the formidable force that the crew was facing. With the use of metaphors Longfellow illustrates how weak the ship was in comparison to the roaring storm. Longfellow says the ship is “like a vessel of glass, [that] stove and sank”. This shows how fragile the vessel was compared to its foe; even though the crew thought they were strong enough to bear the storm, this reiterates that they were destined to shatter. This posthumous description repeats the resounding theme that there is nothing to do when you are destined to die.
Like a slap in the face, the personification is. By portraying the sea to be angry and blood thirsty-being Longfellow proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that there was no possible way that the schooner could have ever survived. “The trampling surf” violently took the ship into her murky depths. Quickly, she took hold upon the ship and it immediately succumbed. There was no other option for this little ship as the giant waves stampeded over her. While the Hesperus sank “Ho! ho! the breakers roared!”; they were laughing a vengeful laugh as she plummeted. Longfellow seems to be portraying how cruel life can be, and how it seems to “kick one while one’s down”.
The idea that death is going to catch us and bad things will overwhelm us, is painfully apparent in Longfellow’s poem. The repetition engrains that idea into our head, the metaphors push away the dust of doubt away, and the personification hammers that idea even deeper into our subconscious. His poem makes our optimism seem pointless, and his reality ridiculously clear. After reading his poem the reader will have the verboding breath of death upon their neck forevermore.
