The Full Text of “How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix”
I.
1I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
2I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
3"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
4"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;
5Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
6And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
II.
7Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
8Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
9I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
10Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
11Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
12Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
III.
13'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
14Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
15At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
16At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;
17And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
18So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
IV.
19At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
20And against him the cattle stood black every one,
21To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,
22And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
23With resolute shoulders, each hutting away
24The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
V.
25And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
26For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
27And one eye's black intelligence,—ever that glance
28O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
29And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
30His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
VI.
31By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
32"Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
33"We'll remember at Aix"—for one heard the quick wheeze
34Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
35And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
36As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
VII.
37So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
38Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
39The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
40'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
41Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
42And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"
VIII.
43"How they'll greet us!"—and all in a moment his roan
44Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
45And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
46Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
47With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
48And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
IX.
49Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
50Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
51Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
52Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
53Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
54Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
X.
55And all I remember is—friends flocking round
56As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
57And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
58As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
59Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
60Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
The Full Text of “How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix”
I.
1I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
2I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
3"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
4"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;
5Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
6And into the midnight we galloped abreast.
II.
7Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
8Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
9I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
10Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
11Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
12Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
III.
13'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
14Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
15At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
16At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;
17And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
18So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!"
IV.
19At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
20And against him the cattle stood black every one,
21To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past,
22And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
23With resolute shoulders, each hutting away
24The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray:
V.
25And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
26For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
27And one eye's black intelligence,—ever that glance
28O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
29And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
30His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.
VI.
31By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
32"Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
33"We'll remember at Aix"—for one heard the quick wheeze
34Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
35And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
36As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
VII.
37So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
38Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
39The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
40'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
41Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
42And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!"
VIII.
43"How they'll greet us!"—and all in a moment his roan
44Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
45And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
46Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
47With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
48And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim.
IX.
49Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
50Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
51Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
52Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
53Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
54Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
X.
55And all I remember is—friends flocking round
56As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
57And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
58As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
59Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
60Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
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“How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Introduction
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"How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" is Robert Browning's tale of heroism and memory. In this dramatic monologue, a soldier recounts a valiant ride he made to carry a critical message between the towns of Ghent and Aix. But he doesn't tell readers any of the details they might expect about this adventure—not even what the all-important message was! Instead, he remembers the sheer exhilaration of the journey, the fortitude of his horse Roland, and odd little impressions of the landscape along the way. The events and characters that don't make it into the history books, the poem suggests, are sometimes the most meaningful. This poem first appeared in Browning's 1845 collection Dramatic Romances and Lyrics.
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“How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Summary
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My fellow soldiers Joris and Dirck and I all leapt onto our horses and galloped away. The watchman wished us luck as he unlocked the side door, and his good wishes echoed off the walls as the door closed and the lights of the town faded. My friends and I galloped off into the middle of the night side by side.
We didn't say one word to each other—just galloped on as fast as we could, always in the same arrangement. I adjusted my riding equipment as we went, tightening the strap that affixed my saddle to my horse's back, shortening the stirrups, re-buckling the bridle, and loosening up the bit; all my tinkering didn't slow my horse, Roland, down one bit.
The moon was just setting when we left, but as we reached the town of Lokeren, we heard the roosters beginning to crow; dawn was on its way. At the town of Boom, the morning star rose, and by the time we were in Düffeld, morning had come. When we got to Mecheln, we heard the churchbells tolling the half-hour, and my friend Joris finally spoke, saying, "There's still time!"
When we were in Aershot, the sun suddenly rose high, and we could see cows silhouetted against its light, staring at us as we galloped past them. And now I could see my brave horse Roland, his strong shoulders sending the mist flying, just the way that the spray of rivers flies when it hits the shore.
I noticed Roland's head was stretched out low as he ran. He kept one ear back to listen to me, and the other forward to listen for what was coming. His clever black eye kept looking back sideways toward me, his master, and thick foam flew from his lips as he galloped.
When we reached Hasselt, my friend Dirck cried out in dismay, and Joris told him, "Stop, stop! Your horse Roos did her best, it's not her fault that she can't run anymore. We won't forget you when we get to Aix." Dirck had no choice but to stop: we could see Roos gasping for air, staggering, and drooping, until at last she couldn't even stand anymore and sank to the ground.
So only Joris and I were left. We rushed past the towns of Looz and Tongres under a cloudless sky, with the hot sun laughing cruelly at us. The grass under the horses' feet crunched like dried husks. We went on until we saw a church-spire rising up near Dalhem. "Keep going," Joris gasped: "That's Aix on the horizon!"
"Everyone will be so glad to see us!" Joris went on—but at just that moment, his horse fell down, dead as a rock. Only my horse Roland could carry the critical news to Aix now. Roland's flaring nostrils looked red as pools of blood, and his eyes were bloodshot, too.
So I stripped off as many of my clothes as I could to cut down on my weight, stood up in my saddle, gave Roland an encouraging pat, and affectionately called that matchless horse by his nickname. I kept on clapping, laughing, and singing to him until he finally galloped into Aix and came to a rest.
All that I remember after that is how all my friends gathered around me as I sat on the ground with Roland's head between my knees. Everyone was lavishing Roland with praise as I gave him the very last of our wine—which, the town governors unanimously voted, was only a fair reward for the horse who carried such wonderful news from Ghent.
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“How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Themes
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Unsung Heroism and Humility
The speaker of this poem, who carries an urgent and hopeful message between the towns of Ghent and Aix, doesn’t seem to consider himself a hero. The real hero here, in his estimation, is his horse Roland, whose valiant galloping saved the day. This speaker’s humility suggests that plenty of the heroic acts that get attributed to a single savior are really the work of a whole group of unsung people (and animals!). But the poem also hints that there’s something genuinely heroic about self-forgetfulness—that is, in getting caught up in a cause that takes one out of oneself.
By many standards, the speaker of this poem is the hero of the story: it’s he who successfully carries the “Good News from Ghent to Aix” after his two comrades fall by the wayside. But far from tooting his own horn, this speaker doesn’t even tell readers his name! He pays much more attention to what his friends Dirck and Joris did and said on their dramatic ride. His memories of Joris’s encouraging cries and Dirck’s stalwart persistence suggest that he doesn’t want his listeners to forget that he wasn’t the only one out there on the road. Delivering the “good news” was a team effort, not the work of one special guy.
That humility becomes even clearer through the speaker’s focus on Roland, his horse. The speaker truly loves and admires Roland, praising him for his “intelligence” and his “peer[less]” stamina and courage. What’s more, when the two of them make it to Aix, the speaker gives Roland all the credit (and the very last drops of wine he can find), calling this Roland’s rightful “due” for having “brought good news from Ghent”—as if Roland himself were the messenger. And of course, he’s not wrong: if Roland weren’t there to carry the speaker, the “good news” would never have made it. But not every person in the speaker’s position would think to give his horse so much credit.
In keeping the speaker’s eye so firmly on other people and creatures, the poem suggests that heroism isn’t an ego trip. Rather, it’s about sacrifice and humility, leaving one’s ego behind in the service of a cause. Not all heroes get famous; in fact, not all heroes are remembered at all. This nameless speaker wants to be sure that it’s other people whom his listeners “remember at Aix’”—and that’s all part of his genuine, humble courage and dedication.
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Meaning and Memory
In “How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix,” a speaker recalls the day he made a desperate horseback ride to deliver an important military message. But he never tells the reader what that critical message was! Instead, he remembers the landscape he saw on the ride, his feelings of urgency and exhilaration, and the bravery and stamina of his beloved horse, Roland. By focusing on flashes of vivid (but outwardly unimportant) memory and leaving out the kinds of details that might usually make it into the history books, this poem suggests that the most meaningful moments of life are often the ones that time forgets.
As the poem begins, everything from its title to its dramatic first words—“I sprang to the stirrup”—leads readers to expect a tale of old-fashioned heroics. The story is framed like an adventure: will these riders make it to Aix with their crucial message, or not?
But as the poem develops, readers can’t help but notice that the speaker records none of the things one might expect from a traditional adventure story. There aren’t even any clear details about what the stakes of this message are, or why the people of Aix need to hear it so urgently. (And according to the poet Browning himself, this poem isn’t based on any real-life events at all, so there’s not even a clear allusion for readers to draw upon.)
Gradually, the speaker’s real point develops: what matters in his memories isn’t what the “good news” was, or what a big hero he himself was for carrying it, but the sheer exhilaration and beauty of making this dramatic ride. As he recalls “galloping” across the countryside, he thinks of the changing sky with its “great yellow star[s],” the “spume-flakes” flying from his horse Roland’s lips, and even the cows that stared at him and his comrades as they sped past. In other words, as he retells his story, the parts that stick with him aren’t the ride’s significance or heroism, but the actual experiences he had on the way.
In fact, the speaker concludes that “all [he] remember[s]” is lavishing praise (and wine) on his brave horse once they’d made it to Aix and rested, surrounded by “friends.” In retelling this tale—clearly one he’s told before!—the speaker suggests that, to him, the precious parts of this memory aren’t recollections of being an important part of history, or earning praise for his heroism. The memories that stick around are memories of experience, and of friendship and love.
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Line-by-Line Explanation & Analysis of “How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix”
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Lines 1-6
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
"Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
"Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through;
Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest,
And into the midnight we galloped abreast."How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" begins with the promise of adventure. The speaker plunges readers into the very moment when he "sprang to the stirrup," leaping on his horse to carry "Good News" on a hundred-mile journey between the city of Ghent in Belgium and the city of Aix, just over the German border. This lively in media res beginning suggests that the speaker of this dramatic monologue is telling a tale he's told many times before, and getting right to the good stuff.
In only a few lines, readers get a pretty clear picture of the poem's setting. Alongside the cities in the title, the distinctive names of the speaker's companions "Joris" and "Dirck" make it clear that this poem is taking place in Belgium. And the idea of delivering an urgent message on horseback—and rushing past "the watch," a guard posted at the city walls—suggests that this isn't the poet Browning's contemporary 19th-century Belgium, but some more romantic era, long ago.
In other words, the scene is set for an old-fashioned tale of derring-do, a high-spirited adventure on horseback. A crucial message needs to be delivered, and the speaker will be one of the men to deliver it. The stakes are high.
And yet, the stakes are also unclear! There's not the slightest hint of what the speaker's urgent message is. The setting suggests that this might be a military message, maybe news that will avert a battle or some other calamity—but the speaker doesn't give any further details. All readers know is that, whatever the message is, it's "Good News," and news the riders must rush to deliver.
Their urgency is reflected in the poem's very form. From the moment the speaker and his friends "spr[i]ng to the stirrup," the poem's sounds and shapes match their "galloping" speed through vivid onomatopoeia.
One of the clearest examples is the poem's polyptoton on the word "gallop" itself—a word that sounds just like the swift hoofbeats it describes. Variations on "gallop" appear no fewer than five times in this first stanza alone, and three of those repetitions turn up in just one line:
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three;
The speaker's insistent repetitions seem to say that there was really an awful lot of galloping going on that fateful night. His asyndeton here makes that point even clearer: amidst all this action, there's no time to pause for conjunctions!
The meter gallops, too. Written in anapestic tetrameter—lines of four anapests, metrical feet with a da-da-DUM rhythm—the poem has a driving beat that imitates the speaker's wild ride. Even the rhyme scheme here feels urgent: couplets propel the reader from one line to the next, each new rhyme rushing towards its partner.
It's no wonder, then, that the "watch" cries "'Good speed!'" to the riders as they rush out the gates of Ghent. Exhilarating speed will drive this whole poem.
But it's also meaningful that the watch's cry "echoe[s]" off the city walls as the speaker and his companions rush through—and that this echo only repeats one word, "'Speed!'" This will also be a story about metaphorical echoes: about storytelling, memories, and forgetting. The things the speaker remembers about his ride, readers will soon discover, aren't necessarily what one might expect—and the things he seems to forget are surprising and important, too.
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Lines 7-12
Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace
Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place;
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight,
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right,
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. -
Lines 13-18
'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near
Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear;
At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see;
At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be;
And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" -
Lines 19-21
At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun,
And against him the cattle stood black every one,
To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past, -
Lines 22-24
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last,
With resolute shoulders, each hutting away
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: -
Lines 25-30
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence,—ever that glance
O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance!
And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon
His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. -
Lines 31-36
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur!
"Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her,
"We'll remember at Aix"—for one heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees,
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank,
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. -
Lines 37-42
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I,
Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky;
The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh,
'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff;
Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white,
And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" -
Lines 43-48
"How they'll greet us!"—and all in a moment his roan
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone;
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. -
Lines 49-54
Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each holster let fall,
Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear,
Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer;
Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood. -
Lines 55-60
And all I remember is—friends flocking round
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground;
And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.
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“How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Poetic Devices & Figurative Language
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Onomatopoeia
This poem is famous for its onomatopoeia, a device that helps to bring the speaker's exhilarating ride to life.
The most obvious (and insistent) onomatopoeia here is the speaker's use of the words "galloping," "galloped," and even "galloper." These words themselves have a galloping rhythm and evoke the clop of hooves with their /l/, /p/, and /g/ sounds. Hardly a stanza goes by without a variation on "gallop"; some version of the word appears no fewer than 13 times! Galloping onomatopoeia thus underpins the whole poem, making the verse sound just like the wild horseback ride it describes.
Elsewhere, certain words work like sound effects—as when the speaker describes the horse Roos's exhausted "wheeze" as she collapses, or the "spray" of mist around the horse Roland as he (you guessed it) "gallop[s] on."
These little moments help readers to hear the speaker's ride as well as envision it. When the speaker remembers the "bright brittle stubble" that "broke" under his horse's hooves, for instance, readers can both sink into the visual imagery and hear the stubble crunching in all those /b/, /r/, and /t/ sounds.
Onomatopoeia is, in short, a big part of what makes this poem fun. These evocative sounds help readers to feel like they're right there with the speaker, riding along on this adventure.
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Imagery
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Repetition
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Personification
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Simile
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Enjambment
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Alliteration
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Assonance
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Asyndeton
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Parallelism
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"How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" Vocabulary
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
- Stirrup
- Watch
- Postern
- Abreast
- Girths
- Pique
- Cheek-strap
- Bit
- Whit
- Half-chime
- Thro'
- Hutting
- As some bluff river headland its spray
- Pricked out
- Askance
- Spume-flakes
- Aye and anon
- Flank
- Stubble
- Chaff
- Dome-spire
- Roan
- Croup
- Buffcoat
- Holster
- Jack-boots
- 'Twixt
- Burgesses
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The foot-holds on a saddle.
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Form, Meter, & Rhyme Scheme of “How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix”
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Form
"How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" is a dramatic monologue, a tale told in the voice of a particular character—in this case, a messenger remembering the day he carried a piece of critical news.
The dramatic monologue form invites readers to think not just about the events this speaker describes, but about the way he describes them. Here, what the speaker doesn't say is just as important as what he does say. He doesn't tell readers his own name, or even what the fateful message he carried was. Instead, he remembers the moment-by-moment events of the ride itself, and gives all the credit for his heroism to his horse!
These choices suggest that this is a poem, not about great deeds and personal valor, but about devotion, companionship, and sheer exhilaration.
The poem's shape echoes this interest in down-to-earth, moment-to-moment life. The poem uses ten six-line stanzas, or sestets, all written in galloping anapestic tetrameter (see the Meter section for a full metrical explanation). This energetic, ever-building form helps readers to feel swept up in the speaker's experience, reliving it alongside him.
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Meter
An exuberant, onomatopoeic meter is one of this poem's most distinctive features. The poem is written in anapestic tetrameter, which means it uses lines of four anapests, metrical feet with a da-da-DUM rhythm. Fittingly enough, this meter sounds like nothing so much as a galloping horse!
Here's a good example from lines 57-58:
And no voice | but was prais- | ing this Ro- | land of mine,
As I poured | down his throat | our last meas- | ure of wine,Besides mimicking hoofbeats, the rat-tat-TAT quality of the meter here feels energetic and joyful.
Small variations keep this meter lively. Many lines start with an iamb (a foot with a da-DUM rhythm) rather than an anapest, like this:
Nor gal- | loped less stead- | ily Ro- | land a whit.
Iambic lead-ins like this are a pretty common trick in anapestic poetry: without breaking the meter's stride, they allow for a little flexibility.
The poem's driving meter echoes both the sounds and the exuberance of the speaker's wild ride.
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Rhyme Scheme
Every stanza of "How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" uses this energetic, driving rhyme scheme:
AABBCC
These rhymed couplets work with the galloping meter to evoke the tension and exhilaration of the ride from Ghent to Aix. Couplets tend to rush the reader along: feeling that another rhyme is always just about to hit, readers hurry forward to find out what it will be! This steady onward momentum matches the speed and urgency of the heroic, single-minded riders.
The rhyme scheme is thus all part of the way this poem brings its readers along for the wild ride.
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“How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Speaker
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This poem's generous, energetic speaker doesn't tell readers anything about himself directly—not even his name. But it's through the speaker's reticence that readers get a sense of what kind of person he is.
In the history-book version of his story, the speaker would be the hero, the messenger who made a desperate gallop from Ghent to Aix with game-changing news. But in the speaker's own telling, his horse Roland deserves all the credit! "All [he] remember[s]" of his valiant ride is his "friends flocking round" as he praises his beloved horse for its courage.
Focusing on Roland, on his fellow riders who didn't make it the whole way, and on the details of the landscape around him, this speaker seems more invested in friendship, adventure, and pure experience than he is in victory or glory. He's a brave and loving soul.
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“How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Setting
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The setting of this poem whips by as the speaker gallops through it. The speaker's ride carries him over a 100-mile stretch of terrain between Ghent (a town in Belgium) and Aix (a German city now known as Aachen). Focused on his task, the speaker doesn't get the chance to notice much about the many towns he passes; he only records flashes of the scenery, from the "great yellow star" that rises over Boom to the cattle that "stare" at the riders as they pass.
The few details of the setting the speaker does notice suggest that this poem is taking place during a hot summer—but in exactly what year, decade, or even century is hard to say. Browning insisted that he had no particular incident or war in mind as he wrote this poem: part of the point here is that the political specifics don't matter as much as this one rider's experience! However, the details of the speaker's clothing (and the very idea of a desperate horseback ride) lead many to imagine this poem taking place sometime in the 16th century.
That vaguely antique setting, alongside glimpses of the picturesque European countryside, helps this poem to feel like the very picture of a "dramatic romance," as its collection's title promises.
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Literary and Historical Context of “How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix”
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Literary Context
Robert Browning (1812-1889) is now considered one of the foremost Victorian poets. But during Browning's lifetime, many readers didn't quite know what to do with his distinctive style. His love of dramatic monologues and his strange syntax stood in contrast with the lyrical elegance of the most popular poets of the day, like Tennyson—or indeed, like Browning's own wife, the wildly famous Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Many critics felt that Browning should have given up poetry to write novels; Oscar Wilde even once quipped that "[George] Meredith is a prose Browning, and so is Browning."
But this wasn't an insult! Wilde was actually a big fan of Browning's work and only one member of the devoted following that Browning gained toward the end of his life. Later on, 20th-century Modernist poets like Ezra Pound would admire Browning's exuberant language, stylistic innovations, and eye for psychological complexity. Some see Browning as a poetic counterpart to the great novelist George Eliot: a writer with a deep interest in why people do what they do.
In a back catalog full of murder and more murder, "How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" is one of Browning's most upbeat and exuberant poems. Perhaps it's for that reason that Thomas Edison asked Browning to recite it for a phonograph recording. (Check out a link to this, the only record of Browning's voice, in the Resources section.) Appropriately enough for a recital of a poem about remembering and forgetting, Browning couldn't remember all the words.
Historical Context
Browning's Victorian context shines a little light on this poem's historical fiction of a medieval or Renaissance world. Browning was only one of many 19th-century British artists with a taste for romantic tales of the past: writers from Tennyson to Walter Scott told stories set in a more or less mythological Old Europe.
Browning insisted that this poem wasn't based on any events in particular, and that he was merely using the "annals of Flanders" in the war-torn 16th century to provide a dramatic setting. Some readers still like to imagine that the "Good News" of the title refers to the Pacification of Ghent. But really, Browning's choice not to relate this poem to any known historical event is what's meaningful here. Like many Victorians, he's using a legendary vision of the past to explore memory and nostalgia.
For Victorian England was positively riddled with nostalgia. After Queen Victoria's beloved husband Albert died, mourning practically became the national sport. Victorians also mourned a changing world: the Industrial Revolution was in full swing, and old rural ways of life were coming to an end as mechanization (literally) gained steam.
This poem's interest in memory and forgetfulness—and its speaker's fondness for small details and warm comradeship—thus fits right in with a wistful Victorian worldview.
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More “How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix” Resources
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External Resources
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Browning's Voice — Listen to Browning himself reciting the poem's first lines aloud (and then forgetting what comes next!). This is the only known recording of Browning's voice.
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A Parody of the Poem — Read a parody of this poem—which became so famous it was often the butt of jokes. (Notice how the parodists pick up on this poem's frequent repetition of the word "galloped"!)
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The Poem Aloud — Listen to a lively reading of the poem (and get a feel for its galloping onomatopoeia).
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An Intro to Browning — Read a short introduction to Browning's life and work at the British Library's website.
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Browning at the Poetry Foundation — Visit the Poetry Foundation to read more of Browning's work.
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Browning's Legacy — Read an article about Browning's complex literary legacy. Browning's contemporaries often mocked his poetry, but he's remembered as an important and innovative poet.
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LitCharts on Other Poems by Robert Browning
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