The Scholar Gipsy: A complete study (with text lines)
The Scholar Gipsy is a pastoral elegy written by Matthew Arnold in 1853. It reflects Arnold’s melancholy over the modern world and expresses admiration for a legendary Oxford scholar who joined a band of gipsies to learn their mysterious knowledge. The poem explores the contrast between the timeless, dream-like life of the scholar and the restless, disillusioned lives of modern people.
Important Text Lines and Summary:
Stanza 1:
Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill;
Go, Shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes:
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,
Nor the cropp’d herbage shoot another head.
But when the fields are still,
And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest,
And only the white sheep are sometimes seen
Cross and recross the strips of moon-blanch’d green;
Come, Shepherd, and again begin the quest.
Summary:
Arnold begins with an address to a shepherd, telling him to finish his daily duties and come to search once more for the Scholar Gipsy. He paints a tranquil rural setting and introduces the central idea of the quest—a search for the elusive scholar.
Stanza 2:
Here, where the reaper was at work of late—
In this high field’s dark corner, where he leaves
His coat, his basket, and his earthen cruse,
And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves,
Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to use;
Here will I sit and wait,
While to my ear from uplands far away
The bleating of the folded flocks is borne,
With distant cries of reapers in the corn—
All the live murmur of a summer’s day.
Summary:
The poet describes a typical rural landscape and settles down in a reaper’s spot to wait and meditate. He hears distant sounds—sheep, reapers, the hum of summer—which add to the peaceful setting and contrast with the inner turmoil he will later describe in modern life.
Stanza 3:
Screen’d is this nook o’er the high, half-reap’d field,
And here till sundown, Shepherd! will I be.
Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep,
And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see
Pale blue convolvulus in tendrils creep;
And air-swept lindens yield
Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers
Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid,
And bower me from the August sun with shade;
And the eye travels down to Oxford’s towers:
Summary:
Arnold is lying in a shaded spot, surrounded by the beauty of nature—corn, poppies, flowers, and trees. From this peaceful countryside, his eyes can see the towers of Oxford, which brings him to recall the legend of the Scholar Gipsy.
Stanza 4:
And near me on the grass lies Glanvil’s book—
Come, let me read the oft-read tale again:
The story of the Oxford scholar poor,
Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain,
Who, tired of knocking at Preferment’s door,
One summer morn forsook
His friends, and went to learn the gipsy lore,
And roam’d the world with that wild brotherhood,
And came, as most men deem’d, to little good,
But came to Oxford and his friends no more.
Summary:
The poet mentions Glanvil’s book, which contains the tale of a brilliant but poor Oxford student who left the university to join gipsies in search of secret knowledge. People think he wasted his life, but he never returned to Oxford.
Stanza 5:
But once, years after, in the country lanes,
Two scholars, whom at college erst he knew,
Met him, and of his way of life inquired.
Whereat he answer’d, that the gipsy crew,
His mates, had arts to rule as they desired
The workings of men’s brains;
And they can bind them to what thoughts they will:
“And I,” he said, “the secret of their art,
When fully learn’d, will to the world impart:
But it needs heaven-sent moments for this skill.”
Summary:
Years later, two of his old college friends saw him and asked about his new life. He explained that the gipsies could control people’s minds and that he was learning this skill to someday reveal it to the world—but only when the moment was right.
Stanza 6:
Methinks my heart has never known
The peace that flows from such a tone,
Nor mine eyes looked on such a face
As bring the sense of life’s long race
Nearer to peace, and less to pain.
Summary:
Arnold reflects on how his own life is full of unrest and pain. He feels that the scholar has found a kind of peace that he himself has never experienced.
Stanza 7:
And then he left them, and he went his way.
And the tale a hundred times hath been told.
But not the less I love to dwell
On this strange tale, or treat it as truth.
And know the ways the Scholar trod,
The ways he roamed, and things he saw,
And oft in spirit follow him.
Summary:
Though the story has been told many times, Arnold still finds deep meaning in it. He chooses to believe in it and imaginatively follows the scholar’s path, spiritually walking with him through the countryside.
Stanza 8:
And in this Oxford lane, I wander oft,
And long the Scholar’s memory brood upon:
With thoughts which do not die, and cannot fade,
As though he still were near me, lingering on.
Summary:
Arnold frequently walks around Oxford’s lanes, reflecting deeply on the Scholar. His thoughts about the Scholar never fade, as if the Scholar’s presence still lingers.
Stanza 9:
For early did he leave
The old roads of men behind,
And with free heart and eye
Explore the lonely woods and dells,
The forest-glades where no foot strays,
The secret haunts of flowers and ferns,
And streams that rarely meet the day.
Summary:
The Scholar left behind conventional life early on. He chose a path of solitude, exploring untouched forests and hidden places in nature—far from the bustle of society.
Stanza 10:
But he hath perish’d now, methinks, long since,
And even in death must his old ways forsake:
Nor long survive the passing bell
That sounds from Oxford’s dreaming spire.
Yet still, I picture him alive,
Wandering through these meadows green,
And seeking truth with patient zeal.
Summary:
The poet admits that the Scholar has likely died long ago, perhaps even forgotten. But he still imagines him alive, walking through the green fields, always searching for truth.
Stanza 11:
O born in days when wits were fresh and clear,
And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames;
Before this strange disease of modern life,
With its sick hurry, its divided aims,
Its heads o’ertax’d, its palsied hearts, was rife—
Fly hence, our contact fear!
Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood!
Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern
From her false friend, turned from his void and cold intent.
Summary:
Arnold addresses the Scholar, praising the era in which he was born—simpler, purer times. He condemns modern life as diseased, with constant hurry, overburdened minds, and broken hearts. He urges the Scholar to keep avoiding such a world and stay in peaceful seclusion.
Stanza 12:
Ah! do not we, wanderer! await it too?
It is no dream: it cannot be a dream.
That those who live to truth must dwell alone
In nature’s bosom, and in silence roam
Amid her wildest haunts and deepest calm,
And learn the soul’s long-lost domain
From her still power, and wisdom’s frame.
Summary:
Arnold questions whether the life the Scholar chose—of solitude and truth-seeking—is not the true path for all thoughtful people. He suggests that deep understanding and wisdom can only be found in nature, far from modern confusion.
Stanza 13:
Thou hadst one aim, one business, one desire:
Else wert thou long since number’d with the dead!
Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire!
The generations of thy peers
Are not like thee; they do not keep
Their faith, nor pass calmly through the world,
But melt, like snow in the warm sun,
And waste themselves in work and strife.
Summary:
Arnold contrasts the Scholar’s steady purpose with the fleeting, aimless lives of modern people. The Scholar survived spiritually because of his single-minded purpose, while others lose their way and burn out.
Stanza 14:
But thou possessest an immortal lot,
And we imagine thee exempt from age
And living on in endless youth and dream,
Free from the world’s fierce stress and fate,
A ghostly presence in the meads,
A wandering shade of peace and thought,
That haunts the earth yet is not bound to it.
Summary:
Arnold idealizes the Scholar as eternal—untouched by time, aging, or death. He envisions him as a kind of spirit who still roams the meadows, free from the world’s troubles, embodying eternal peace and deep thought.
Here’s the final part of the poem The Scholar Gipsy by Matthew Arnold with all remaining text lines and their detailed summary:
Stanza 15:
But what—I dream! Two hundred years are flown
Since first thy story ran through Oxford halls,
And the grave Glanvil did the tale inscribe
That thou wert wander’d from the studious walls
To learn strange arts, and join a gipsy-tribe:
And thou from earth art gone
Long since, and in some quiet churchyard laid—
Some country nook, where o’er thy unknown grave
Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave,
Under a dark red-fruited yew-tree’s shade.
Summary:
Arnold comes back to reality and reminds himself that it has been over two hundred years since the Scholar’s story began. He likely died long ago and lies buried in some quiet countryside grave, overgrown and forgotten.
Stanza 16:
—No, no, thou hast not felt the lapse of hours!
For what wears out the life of mortal men?
’Tis that from change to change their being rolls:
’Tis that repeated shocks, again, again,
Exhaust the energy of strongest souls
And numb the elastic powers.
Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen,
And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit,
To the just-pausing Genius we remit
Our worn-out life, and are—what we have been.
Summary:
Arnold argues that the Scholar has not aged or died in the normal way. Unlike regular people, who wear themselves out through endless changes, struggles, and failures, the Scholar has remained untouched by such stresses. Most people get emotionally and mentally exhausted, but the Scholar avoided this fate.
Stanza 17:
Thou hadst one aim, one business, one desire:
Else wert thou long since number’d with the dead!
Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire!
The generations of thy peers
Are not like thee; they do not keep
Their faith, nor pass calmly through the world,
But melt, like snow in the warm sun,
And waste themselves in work and strife.
(Repetition)
This stanza, previously covered, is echoed again to reinforce the contrast between the Scholar and the restless, aimless modern man.
Stanza 18:
And then they turned, and went
With downcast eyes, and broke not the still air
With one confused murmur. Silence came next,
And the deep sigh of the oxen slowly fed,
And from the mowers floating in the sun
The wondrous voice of the evening bell,
Slow through the air.
Then, as I rose and strolled among the meads,
And thought of all this life, and the calm truth,
I sighed, and said—
“The Scholar Gipsy! Never more be seen.
Dear calm untroubled spirit, leave us not!
Continue still to haunt this quiet scene!
Keep floating on among the happy fields,
This atmosphere of earth and youth and joy
That gave thee birth, still breathe on human souls!
Be our ideal; stay with us, O stay!”
Summary:
The poem ends with a quiet rural scene: the sounds of oxen feeding, mowers working, and the evening bell. Arnold, walking through the meadows, reflects on life and the peace he associates with the Scholar. He pleads with the spirit of the Scholar to remain—not to vanish—but to continue inspiring and reminding people of a purer, more focused way of life. The Scholar becomes a symbol of hope and spiritual constancy in a chaotic modern world.
Message of the Poem:
The Scholar Gipsy contrasts the serene, purposeful life of the legendary scholar with the fragmented and troubled lives of modern men. Arnold laments the "disease of modern life"—its rush, distractions, and spiritual fatigue—and sets the Scholar up as an eternal symbol of peace, clarity, and commitment to truth.