A Fragment by Alfred Tennyson (Poem, Summary, Paraphrase & Analysis)

 

A Fragment

by Alfred Tennyson

(Poem, Summary, Paraphrase & Analysis) 

A Fragment

Where is the Giant of the Sun, which stood

In the midnoon the glory of old Rhodes,

A perfect Idol, with profulgent brows

Far sheening down the purple seas to those

Who sailed from Mizraim underneath the star

Named of the Dragon—and between whose limbs

Of brassy vastness broad-blown Argosies

Drave into haven? Yet endure unscathed

Of changeful cycles the great Pyramids

Broad-based amid the fleeting sands, and sloped

Into the slumberous summer noon; but where,

Mysterious Egypt, are thine obelisks

Graven with gorgeous emblems undiscerned?

Thy placid Sphinxes brooding o’er the Nile?

Thy shadowy Idols in the solitudes,

Awful Memnonian countenances calm

Looking athwart the burning flats, far off

Seen by the high-necked camel on the verge

Journeying southward? Where are thy monuments

Piled by the strong and sunborn Anakim

Over their crowned brethren Ο Ν and Ο ΡΗ?

Thy Memnon, when his peaceful lips are kissed

With earliest rays, that from his mother’s eyes

Flow over the Arabian bay, no more

Breathes low into the charmed ears of morn

Clear melody flattering the crisped Nile

By columned Thebes. Old Memphis hath gone down:

The Pharaohs are no more: somewhere in death

They sleep with staring eyes and gilded lips,

Wrapped round with spiced cerements in old grots

Rock-hewn and sealed for ever.

 

Summary

Alfred Tennyson’s poem “A Fragment” unfolds as a meditation on the grandeur of past civilizations and the transience of human achievements. The poem begins with an evocative image of the Colossus of Rhodes, the legendary statue once counted among the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Tennyson imagines it as a “Giant of the Sun,” standing gloriously in midnoon, an idol with radiant brows shining across the purple seas. It was a beacon of power and magnificence for sailors journeying from Egypt beneath the constellations. Ships, or “argoses,” vast merchant vessels, once sailed between its immense brassy limbs into the safety of harbor. Through this description, the poet sets the stage for a grand recollection of humanity’s monumental works, beginning with one of the most celebrated wonders of antiquity.

Yet, almost immediately, the tone shifts. The poet asks where this giant statue is now. Time has destroyed it, and it survives only in memory. In contrast, he observes, the Pyramids of Egypt still endure, broad-based and immovable amidst the flowing sands, their slopes catching the midday sun. These vast tombs, unlike the Colossus, continue to resist the ravages of time, standing silently in the desert as emblems of endurance. Tennyson contrasts the vanished statue of Rhodes with the still-visible monuments of Egypt to highlight the selective permanence of human creations—some endure for ages, while others crumble into nothingness.

The poem then turns more fully toward Egypt. Tennyson invokes the mysterious land with a series of questions: where are the obelisks covered in strange inscriptions and symbolic carvings? Where are the sphinxes that once brooded silently over the Nile, their inscrutable faces watching the passage of centuries? Where are the idols that once stood in the desert solitudes, casting their shadow over the sands? The poet calls to mind the solemn and imposing images of Egyptian art and architecture, suggesting both their haunting presence and their mysterious decline. He lingers especially on the “Memnonian countenances,” statues with calm and majestic expressions that seemed to gaze endlessly across the burning plains. From far off, even a camel driver traveling across the desert could see them standing like guardians of time itself. These images evoke the timeless and solemn atmosphere of Egypt’s ruins, which endure in fragments, silent witnesses of civilizations long past.

Tennyson deepens this meditation by asking after the builders of these monuments, the “Anakim,” a mythical race of giants in biblical tradition, whom he imagines as having erected the colossal works of stone. These titanic figures raised monuments to their crowned brethren, yet they too have vanished into history. He recalls the famous statue of Memnon, once said to produce a sweet musical sound when touched by the rays of the rising sun. In earlier ages, it was believed to sing at dawn, its voice greeting the day across the plains of Thebes and flattering the rippling waters of the Nile. But no more does Memnon’s statue breathe music into the morning air; the song has been silenced by ruin and decay. The magic of the ancient world has faded, leaving behind only lifeless stone.

The poem’s final passages reflect more directly on the fate of Egypt’s rulers and cities. Memphis, once the proud capital of Egypt, has fallen into ruin. The mighty Pharaohs, who commanded armies and oversaw the building of temples and pyramids, are themselves no more. Their grandeur has dissolved into silence. Now they lie in their tombs, with gilded lips and embalmed bodies, their faces preserved in staring stillness beneath layers of spices and wrappings. These rulers, once supreme in power and majesty, have been reduced to lifeless remains, hidden away in rock-hewn tombs that have been sealed for eternity. The grandeur of their reign, once filled with splendor and authority, is now only a shadow, locked away in sepulchers that themselves may one day crumble into dust.

Throughout the poem, Tennyson does not so much analyze or moralize as he evokes. He paints vast, majestic pictures of wonders and monuments, then juxtaposes them with images of loss and silence. The movement of the poem flows from the vanished Colossus of Rhodes, to the enduring but enigmatic pyramids, to the questioning of Egypt’s scattered monuments, and finally to the stark image of the embalmed Pharaohs in their eternal sleep. In this progression, the poem creates a panorama of human glory, ruin, and endurance, offering the reader a vision of history as both splendid and melancholy.

The summary of the poem, therefore, is that “A Fragment” is a lyrical recollection of ancient wonders—the Colossus, the pyramids, obelisks, sphinxes, and statues of Egypt—interwoven with reflections on their current state, whether vanished, decayed, or silent. Tennyson describes them with reverence and awe, but also acknowledges their fate under the passage of time. While some monuments have endured for millennia, others have crumbled, and the rulers who once commanded their creation now rest lifeless in tombs. The poem offers a vivid journey through the grandeur and decay of the ancient world, allowing the reader to sense both the glory of human achievement and the inevitability of decline.

 

Line-by-line Paraphrase

Where is the Giant of the Sun, which stood

-> Where now is that colossal statue, the giant figure once dedicated to the Sun, which once stood so proudly?

 

In the midnoon the glory of old Rhodes,

-> It was the shining centerpiece of the island of Rhodes, glowing in the bright midday sun.

 

A perfect Idol, with profulgent brows

-> It was a flawless idol, its radiant forehead gleaming brilliantly.

 

Far sheening down the purple seas to those

-> Its light shone far across the deep purple seas, visible to distant sailors.

 

Who sailed from Mizraim underneath the star

-> It guided travelers sailing from Egypt (Mizraim), beneath the constellation.

 

Named of the Dragon—and between whose limbs

-> This was the statue under whose huge legs or limbs ships passed.

 

Of brassy vastness broad-blown Argosies

-> Enormous merchant ships, with sails filled by the wind, sailed between its massive bronze structure.

 

Drave into haven? Yet endure unscathed

-> They drove safely into the harbor; but now, that statue is gone—while still enduring, unharmed…

 

Of changeful cycles the great Pyramids

-> …are the mighty Pyramids, which have lasted through countless ages of change.

 

Broad-based amid the fleeting sands, and sloped

-> They stand solidly on wide bases amid shifting desert sands, their sides rising upward in slopes.

 

Into the slumberous summer noon; but where,

-> They rise quietly into the sleepy stillness of the midday sun. But where—

 

Mysterious Egypt, are thine obelisks

-> O mysterious Egypt, where now are your tall obelisks—

 

Graven with gorgeous emblems undiscerned?

-> Carved with beautiful but unreadable symbols?

 

Thy placid Sphinxes brooding o’er the Nile?

-> Where are your calm Sphinx statues, gazing endlessly across the Nile?

 

Thy shadowy Idols in the solitudes,

-> Where are the dim, solemn statues standing lonely in the desert?

 

Awful Memnonian countenances calm

-> Where are the awe-inspiring statues of Memnon, with their calm faces—

 

Looking athwart the burning flats, far off

-> Staring across the scorching desert plains, seen from far away—

 

Seen by the high-necked camel on the verge

-> Even a tall camel traveling at the desert’s edge could see them—

 

Journeying southward? Where are thy monuments

-> But where now are all those monuments—

 

Piled by the strong and sunborn Anakim

-> Built by a race of giant, sun-born builders—

 

Over their crowned brethren Ο Ν and Ο ΡΗ?

-> Constructed in honor of their crowned rulers of ancient days?

 

Thy Memnon, when his peaceful lips are kissed

-> What has become of your Memnon statue, which, when the rising sun touched its lips—

 

With earliest rays, that from his mother’s eyes

-> With the first rays of dawn, as the sun rose from the east—

 

Flow over the Arabian bay, no more

-> Shining across the Arabian Gulf—no longer now—

 

Breathes low into the charmed ears of morn

-> Does it send out its soft song into the enchanted ears of morning—

 

Clear melody flattering the crisped Nile

-> A clear and beautiful sound, greeting the rippling waters of the Nile—

 

By columned Thebes. Old Memphis hath gone down:

-> Near the columns of Thebes. And old Memphis, once glorious, has now fallen.

 

The Pharaohs are no more: somewhere in death

-> The Pharaohs themselves are gone too; they lie dead—

 

They sleep with staring eyes and gilded lips,

-> They rest with wide-open eyes and lips covered in gold—

 

Wrapped round with spiced cerements in old grots

-> Enclosed in embalming cloths soaked in spices, placed in ancient burial caves—

 

Rock-hewn and sealed for ever.

-> Tombs carved in rock and sealed shut for eternity.

 

Analysis in Detail

Alfred Tennyson’s “A Fragment” is a meditation on the impermanence of human grandeur and the inevitable decline of civilizations that once seemed eternal. The poem, though brief and incomplete, carries the weight of a historical and philosophical reflection, turning the ruins of antiquity into symbols of both human ambition and human mortality. In this fragment, Tennyson moves from one monumental image to another—the Colossus of Rhodes, the Pyramids of Egypt, the obelisks, the sphinxes, and the Pharaohs—creating a panorama of vanished power and enduring mystery. His imagery, questions, and contrasts bring to light his preoccupation with the fragility of human achievements when measured against the vast sweep of time.

The poem begins with the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Tennyson describes it as the “Giant of the Sun,” a magnificent idol that once stood in dazzling splendor, its brow shining down upon the seas. The description is not only visual but also symbolic: the Colossus represents the human desire to embody power, beauty, and divine connection in a single work of art. Its vastness is suggested by the image of ships sailing between its legs, entering the harbor beneath its bronze form. Yet, immediately, the poet asks: where is it now? The rhetorical question undercuts the grandeur with a sober reminder of its fate. The Colossus has been destroyed, and what was once a marvel of human craftsmanship now exists only in memory. By starting here, Tennyson establishes the central tension of the poem—the contrast between glory and ruin, between permanence and loss.

From Rhodes, the poem shifts to Egypt, a civilization whose monuments still endure. Tennyson contrasts the fallen Colossus with the pyramids, which remain “unscathed of changeful cycles.” Their massive form, rooted in the desert, resists the shifting sands and the passage of centuries. The pyramids stand as a paradox: lifeless tombs built for the dead, yet themselves among the most enduring of human creations. They embody not only the ambition of Pharaohs to transcend death but also the mysterious endurance of stone over time. In highlighting their survival, Tennyson draws attention to the selective endurance of monuments: while some wonders vanish utterly, others stubbornly persist, raising the question of why time spares some works and destroys others.

But even as he acknowledges their endurance, Tennyson does not linger on the pyramids alone. Instead, he launches into a series of questions that broaden the focus to other Egyptian monuments. “Where are thine obelisks, graven with gorgeous emblems undiscerned?” he asks. These towering pillars, once covered with hieroglyphs, are symbols of communication lost to time. Their inscriptions, once meaningful, have become enigmatic, “undiscerned” by later generations. This motif of unreadable language emphasizes the silence of the past: even when monuments remain, their voices may be muted. The poet continues with the sphinxes, calm figures gazing over the Nile, their immovable faces embodying both mystery and permanence. Yet even these, though still partly present, stand more as symbols of what has been lost than as living parts of a continuing culture.

The image of the Memnon statues deepens this sense of faded grandeur. According to legend, one of these statues once emitted a musical sound when struck by the sun’s rays at dawn. Tennyson recalls this ancient marvel—the statue that breathed a melody into the morning air, greeting the Nile as it flowed by Thebes. But he notes that this voice has now fallen silent. The sound, whether myth or reality, no longer exists; the statue is mute. This loss of voice becomes symbolic of the silencing of entire civilizations. Where once there was song, now there is only stone. The silence is more haunting than destruction, for it suggests not only physical ruin but also the fading of spirit and vitality.

The poem’s final movement is a direct reflection on the fate of Egypt’s rulers and cities. “Old Memphis hath gone down,” Tennyson declares, emphasizing the fall of what was once a thriving capital. The Pharaohs themselves, once embodiments of earthly power, are now reduced to lifeless bodies, lying embalmed in tombs. Tennyson’s description of them is stark: they sleep with staring eyes and gilded lips, wrapped in spices, sealed forever in rock-hewn caves. The grandeur of kingship, the might of armies, the wealth of empires—all of this has been reduced to immobile corpses, trapped in stone chambers. The image of gilded lips is especially striking: even in death, they were adorned with gold, but their voices are gone, their power extinguished. The contrast between the richness of their burial and the futility of their condition encapsulates the theme of impermanence.

In its structure, “A Fragment” works almost like a historical procession. Tennyson guides the reader past different relics of antiquity, pausing at each to consider its former glory and present silence. The rhetorical questions reinforce the sense of absence; by asking “Where are they?” Tennyson emphasizes that these wonders no longer serve the purposes for which they were made. They exist as ruins or memories, not as living realities. This questioning voice also adds a tone of lament, as though the poet himself mourns the vanishing of human greatness.

Although the poem is incomplete, it still resonates with themes central to Tennyson’s wider body of work: the fragility of human ambition, the relentless passage of time, and the haunting persistence of memory. The fragmentary nature of the poem itself mirrors its subject matter—just as we have only remnants of ancient civilizations, so too do we have only this fragment of a poem, a partial meditation on loss and endurance. The incompleteness underscores the impossibility of fully capturing the past; we glimpse it only in fragments.

In the end, “A Fragment” stands as a solemn reflection on history’s rise and fall. By evoking the Colossus, the pyramids, the obelisks, the sphinxes, the statues of Memnon, and the Pharaohs themselves, Tennyson constructs a vision of human civilization at once awe-inspiring and tragic. His images remind us that even the greatest works of humanity, no matter how colossal or enduring, are subject to the erosion of time. The poem does not offer consolation or resolution; rather, it leaves the reader with a powerful sense of the vast silence of history, where human voices fade, and only stone remains.