{"id":483,"date":"2014-07-03T22:31:42","date_gmt":"2014-07-03T22:31:42","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/?post_type=chapter&p=483"},"modified":"2014-09-29T03:59:19","modified_gmt":"2014-09-29T03:59:19","slug":"dulce-et-decorum-est","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/chapter\/dulce-et-decorum-est\/","title":{"raw":"Dulce et Decorum Est","rendered":"Dulce et Decorum Est"},"content":{"raw":"[footnote]Owen alludes in the title and in the last two lines to Horace, Odes<\/em> 3.2.13: \u201cIt is sweet and fitting to die for one\u2019s country.\u201d[\/footnote]\r\n\r\nBent double, like old beggars under sacks,\r\n\r\nKnock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,\r\n\r\nTill on the haunting flares we turned our backs\r\n\r\nAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.\r\n\r\nMen marched asleep. Many had lost their boots (5)\r\n\r\nBut limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;\r\n\r\nDrunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots\r\n\r\nOf tired, outstripped Five-Nines[footnote]5.9-caliber shells.[\/footnote]\u00a0that dropped behind.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nGas! Gas! Quick, boys!\u2014An ecstasy of fumbling,\r\n\r\nFitting the clumsy helmets just in time; (10)\r\n\r\nBut someone still was yelling out and stumbling\r\n\r\nAnd flound\u2019ring like a man in fire or lime...\r\n\r\nDim, through the misty panes and thick green light,\r\n\r\nAs under a green sea, I saw him drowning.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nIn all my dreams, before my helpless sight, (15)\r\n\r\nHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nIf in some smothering dreams you too could pace\r\n\r\nBehind the wagon that we flung him in,\r\n\r\nAnd watch the white eyes writhing in his face,\r\n\r\nHis hanging face, like a devil\u2019s sick of sin; (20)\r\n\r\nIf you could hear, at every jolt, the blood\r\n\r\nCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,\r\n\r\nObscene as cancer, bitter as the cud\r\n\r\nOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,\u2014\r\n\r\nMy friend, you would not tell with such high zest (25)\r\n\r\nTo children ardent for some desperate glory,\r\n\r\nThe old Lie: Dulce et decorum est<\/em>\r\n\r\nPro patria mori<\/em>.","rendered":"

[1]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,<\/p>\n

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,<\/p>\n

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs<\/p>\n

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.<\/p>\n

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots (5)<\/p>\n

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;<\/p>\n

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots<\/p>\n

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines[2]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0that dropped behind.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!\u2014An ecstasy of fumbling,<\/p>\n

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; (10)<\/p>\n

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling<\/p>\n

And flound\u2019ring like a man in fire or lime…<\/p>\n

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,<\/p>\n

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, (15)<\/p>\n

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace<\/p>\n

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,<\/p>\n

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,<\/p>\n

His hanging face, like a devil\u2019s sick of sin; (20)<\/p>\n

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood<\/p>\n

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,<\/p>\n

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud<\/p>\n

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,\u2014<\/p>\n

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest (25)<\/p>\n

To children ardent for some desperate glory,<\/p>\n

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est<\/em><\/p>\n

Pro patria mori<\/em>.<\/p>\n

  1. Owen alludes in the title and in the last two lines to Horace, Odes<\/em> 3.2.13: \u201cIt is sweet and fitting to die for one\u2019s country.\u201d ↵<\/a><\/li>
  2. 5.9-caliber shells. ↵<\/a><\/li><\/ol><\/div>","protected":false},"author":17,"menu_order":3,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":["wilfred-owen"],"pb_section_license":"public-domain"},"chapter-type":[],"contributor":[67],"license":[78],"class_list":["post-483","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","contributor-wilfred-owen","license-public-domain"],"part":479,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/483","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/17"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/483\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1518,"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/483\/revisions\/1518"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/479"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/483\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=483"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=483"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=483"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/opentextbc.ca\/englishliterature\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=483"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}