{"id":1266,"date":"2015-05-11T09:36:36","date_gmt":"2015-05-11T08:36:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/english.lycee.nl\/?page_id=1266"},"modified":"2015-05-11T09:36:36","modified_gmt":"2015-05-11T08:36:36","slug":"dulce-et-decorum-est","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/?page_id=1266","title":{"rendered":"dulce et decorum est"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Dulce et Decorum Est, Wilfred Owen. David Roberts reads this poem\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/kx9RlCCRmDg?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<p class=\"style92\"><strong>DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1)<\/strong><\/p>\n<p class=\"style89\">Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,<br \/>\nKnock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,<br \/>\nTill on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs<br \/>\nAnd towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.<br \/>\nMen marched asleep. Many had lost their boots<br \/>\nBut limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;<br \/>\nDrunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4)<br \/>\nOf tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.<br \/>\nGas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! \u2013 An ecstasy of fumbling,<br \/>\nFitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;<br \/>\nBut someone still was yelling out and stumbling,<br \/>\nAnd flound&#8217;ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .<br \/>\nDim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,<br \/>\nAs under a green sea, I saw him drowning.<br \/>\nIn all my dreams, before my helpless sight,<br \/>\nHe plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.<br \/>\nIf in some smothering dreams you too could pace<br \/>\nBehind the wagon that we flung him in,<br \/>\nAnd watch the white eyes writhing in his face,<br \/>\nHis hanging face, like a devil&#8217;s sick of sin;<br \/>\nIf you could hear, at every jolt, the blood<br \/>\nCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,<br \/>\nObscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12)<br \/>\nOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,<br \/>\nMy friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13)<br \/>\nTo children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,<br \/>\nThe old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est<br \/>\nPro patria mori.(15)<\/p>\n<p class=\"style87\"><span class=\"style88\"><span style=\"font-family: Georgia;\">Wilfred Owen<br \/>\nThought to have been written between 8 October 1917\u00a0 and March, 1918<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n<h3 class=\"style78\"><span class=\"poemHeading\">Notes on Dulce et Decorum Est<\/span><\/h3>\n<p class=\"style91\">1.\u00a0 DULCE ET DECORUM EST &#8211; the first words of a Latin saying (taken from an ode by Horace). The words were widely understood and often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean &#8220;It is sweet and right.&#8221; The full saying ends the poem: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori &#8211; it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country.<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">2.\u00a0 Flares &#8211; rockets which were sent up to burn with a brilliant glare to light up men and other targets in the area between the front lines (See illustration, page 118 of Out in the Dark.)<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">3.\u00a0 Distant rest &#8211; a camp away from the front line where exhausted soldiers might rest for a few days, or longer<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">4.\u00a0 Hoots &#8211; the noise made by the shells rushing through the air<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">5.\u00a0 Outstripped &#8211; outpaced, the soldiers have struggled beyond the reach of these shells which are now falling behind them as they struggle away from the scene of battle<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">\u00a06.\u00a0 Five-Nines &#8211; 5.9 calibre explosive shells<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">7.\u00a0 Gas! &#8211;\u00a0 poison gas. From the symptoms it would appear to be chlorine or phosgene gas. The filling of the lungs with fluid had the same effects as when a person drowned<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">8.\u00a0 Helmets &#8211;\u00a0 the early name for gas masks<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">9.\u00a0 Lime &#8211; a white chalky substance which can burn live tissue<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">10.\u00a0 Panes &#8211; the glass in the eyepieces of the gas masks<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">11.\u00a0 Guttering &#8211; Owen probably meant flickering out like a candle or gurgling like water draining down a gutter, referring to the sounds in the throat of the choking man, or it might be a sound partly like stuttering and partly like gurgling<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">12.\u00a0 Cud &#8211; normally the regurgitated grass that cows chew usually green and bubbling. Here a similar looking material was issuing from the soldier&#8217;s mouth<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">13.\u00a0 High zest &#8211; idealistic enthusiasm, keenly believing in the rightness of the idea<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">14.\u00a0 ardent &#8211; keen<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\">15.\u00a0 Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori &#8211; see note 1 above.<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\"><strong>These notes are taken from the book, <em>Out in the Dark, Poetry of the First World War<\/em><\/strong>, where other war poems that need special explanations are similarly annotated. The ideal book for students getting to grips with the poetry of the First World War.<\/p>\n<p class=\"style91\"><strong>Pronunciation<\/strong><br \/>\nThe pronunciation of Dulce is DULKAY. The letter C in Latin was pronounced like the C in &#8220;car&#8221;. The word is often given an Italian pronunciation pronouncing the C like the C in cello, but this is wrong. Try checking this out in a Latin dictionary!\u00a0 &#8211;\u00a0 David Roberts.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; DULCE ET DECORUM EST(1) Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk<span class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1266","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1266","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1266"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1266\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1267,"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1266\/revisions\/1267"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrglackin.eu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1266"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}