SCANDERBEG by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This poem narrates the tale of George Castriot, better known as Skanderbeg, a 15th-century Albanian warrior who turns a devastating military defeat into an opportunity.
The poem
The battle is fought and won By King Ladislaus the Hun, In fire of hell and death's frost, On the day of Pentecost. And in rout before his path From the field of battle red Flee all that are not dead Of the army of Amurath. In the darkness of the night Iskander, the pride and boast Of that mighty Othman host, With his routed Turks, takes flight From the battle fought and lost On the day of Pentecost; Leaving behind him dead The army of Amurath, The vanguard as it led, The rearguard as it fled, Mown down in the bloody swath Of the battle's aftermath. But he cared not for Hospodars, Nor for Baron or Voivode, As on through the night he rode And gazed at the fateful stars, That were shining overhead But smote his steed with his staff, And smiled to himself, and said; "This is the time to laugh." In the middle of the night, In a halt of the hurrying flight, There came a Scribe of the King Wearing his signet ring, And said in a voice severe: "This is the first dark blot On thy name, George Castriot! Alas why art thou here, And the army of Amurath slain, And left on the battle plain?" And Iskander answered and said: "They lie on the bloody sod By the hoofs of horses trod; But this was the decree Of the watchers overhead; For the war belongeth to God, And in battle who are we, Who are we, that shall withstand The wind of his lifted hand?" Then he bade them bind with chains This man of books and brains; And the Scribe said: "What misdeed Have I done, that, without need, Thou doest to me this thing?" And Iskander answering Said unto him: "Not one Misdeed to me hast thou done; But for fear that thou shouldst run And hide thyself from me, Have I done this unto thee. "Now write me a writing, O Scribe, And a blessing be on thy tribe! A writing sealed with thy ring, To King Amurath's Pasha In the city of Croia, The city moated and walled, That he surrender the same In the name of my master, the King; For what is writ in his name Can never be recalled." And the Scribe bowed low in dread, And unto Iskander said: "Allah is great and just, But we are as ashes and dust; How shall I do this thing, When I know that my guilty head Will be forfeit to the King?" Then swift as a shooting star The curved and shining blade Of Iskander's scimetar From its sheath, with jewels bright, Shot, as he thundered: "Write!" And the trembling Scribe obeyed, And wrote in the fitful glare Of the bivouac fire apart, With the chill of the midnight air On his forehead white and bare, And the chill of death in his heart. Then again Iskander cried: "Now follow whither I ride, For here thou must not stay. Thou shalt be as my dearest friend, And honors without end Shall surround thee on every side, And attend thee night and day." But the sullen Scribe replied "Our pathways here divide; Mine leadeth not thy way." And even as he spoke Fell a sudden scimetar-stroke, When no one else was near; And the Scribe sank to the ground, As a stone, pushed from the brink Of a black pool, might sink With a sob and disappear; And no one saw the deed; And in the stillness around No sound was heard but the sound Of the hoofs of Iskander's steed, As forward he sprang with a bound. Then onward he rode and afar, With scarce three hundred men, Through river and forest and fen, O'er the mountains of Argentar; And his heart was merry within, When he crossed the river Drin, And saw in the gleam of the morn The White Castle Ak-Hissar, The city Croia called, The city moated and walled, The city where he was born,-- And above it the morning star. Then his trumpeters in the van On their silver bugles blew, And in crowds about him ran Albanian and Turkoman, That the sound together drew. And he feasted with his friends, And when they were warm with wine, He said: "O friends of mine, Behold what fortune sends, And what the fates design! King Amurath commands That my father's wide domain, This city and all its lands, Shall be given to me again." Then to the Castle White He rode in regal state, And entered in at the gate In all his arms bedight, And gave to the Pasha Who ruled in Croia The writing of the King, Sealed with his signet ring. And the Pasha bowed his head, And after a silence said: "Allah is just and great! I yield to the will divine, The city and lands are thine; Who shall contend with fate?" Anon from the castle walls The crescent banner falls, And the crowd beholds instead, Like a portent in the sky, Iskander's banner fly, The Black Eagle with double head; And a shout ascends on high, For men's souls are tired of the Turks, And their wicked ways and works, That have made of Ak-Hissar A city of the plague; And the loud, exultant cry That echoes wide and far Is: "Long live Scanderbeg!" It was thus Iskander came Once more unto his own; And the tidings, like the flame Of a conflagration blown By the winds of summer, ran, Till the land was in a blaze, And the cities far and near, Sayeth Ben Joshua Ben Meir, In his Book of the Words of the Days, "Were taken as a man Would take the tip of his ear."
This poem narrates the tale of George Castriot, better known as Skanderbeg, a 15th-century Albanian warrior who turns a devastating military defeat into an opportunity. After his Ottoman army is defeated, he cleverly deceives a royal scribe into crafting a fake letter that restores his ancestral city of Croia. In the end, he has successfully reclaimed his homeland, and his people are celebrating his victory.
Line-by-line
The battle is fought and won / By King Ladislaus the Hun,
In the darkness of the night / Iskander, the pride and boast
But he cared not for Hospodars, / Nor for Baron or Voivode,
In the middle of the night, / In a halt of the hurrying flight,
And Iskander answered and said: / 'They lie on the bloody sod'
Then he bade them bind with chains / This man of books and brains;
'Now write me a writing, O Scribe, / And a blessing be on thy tribe!'
And the Scribe bowed low in dread, / And unto Iskander said:
Then swift as a shooting star / The curved and shining blade
Then again Iskander cried: / 'Now follow whither I ride,
Then onward he rode and afar, / With scarce three hundred men,
Then his trumpeters in the van / On their silver bugles blew,
Then to the Castle White / He rode in regal state,
Anon from the castle walls / The crescent banner falls,
It was thus Iskander came / Once more unto his own;
Tone & mood
The tone resembles a spirited historical ballad — lively, assured, and festive, yet with an underlying chill. Longfellow respects Skanderbeg's bravery while not shying away from the reality of the scribe's murder. Lines like 'This is the time to laugh' carry a touch of dark humor, creating an atmosphere akin to a fireside tale narrated by someone who truly finds the hero exciting but isn’t naive enough to view the hero as a saint.
Symbols & metaphors
- The Black Eagle with double head — Skanderbeg's banner symbolizes Albanian national identity and still adorns the country's flag. In the poem, it signifies the restoration of a people's sovereignty—the visual climax comes when the crescent falls and the eagle rises.
- The forged letter / signet ring — The sealed document represents the power of written authority and its potential to be weaponized. Skanderbeg knows that a piece of paper with the correct seal can hold more power than an army in the short term. It also symbolizes the Ottoman bureaucratic system being used against itself.
- The morning star over Croia — When Skanderbeg first catches sight of his birthplace at dawn, the morning star shines brightly above. It represents hope, new beginnings, and the realization of a long-delayed destiny—the exile is finally returning home.
- The scimitar — The scimitar, illuminated by the firelight that compelled the scribe to write, ultimately became the tool of his demise. It embodies Skanderbeg's will, symbolizing the raw power that fuels all his cunning tactics — a stark reminder that beneath the strategy lies a man ready to resort to violence when necessary.
- The stars — Skanderbeg looks up at 'the fateful stars' while riding through the night. They symbolize destiny and divine order — suggesting that the defeat wasn't a disaster but rather a pivotal moment foretold in the heavens long before the battle.
- The crescent banner — The Ottoman crescent dropping from the castle walls serves as the poem's central image of political change. It's more than just a flag coming down; it signifies the end of an occupation and the start of a nation reclaiming its identity.
Historical context
George Castriot, known as Skanderbeg, was an Albanian nobleman born around 1405. As a child, he was taken hostage to the Ottoman court, where he was raised as a Muslim and trained as a soldier, eventually becoming one of the Sultan's top generals—this is why he was given the Turkish name Iskander (Alexander). After the Ottomans were defeated at Varna in 1444, he switched sides, used a clever forged-letter trick to reclaim Croia, and spent the following two decades defending Albania from numerous Ottoman invasions. He became a hero to Christians throughout Europe and is still celebrated as Albania's national hero today. Longfellow wrote this poem for his *Tales of a Wayside Inn* (1863–1873), a collection inspired by Chaucer's *Canterbury Tales*, where travelers share stories in turn. The episode about Skanderbeg aligns with Longfellow's long-standing fascination with historical heroes and his belief that poetry can embody national myths.
FAQ
Yes. George Castriot, better known as Skanderbeg, was an Albanian nobleman who lived from about 1405 to 1468. He initially served as an Ottoman general but later defected and led a prolonged resistance against the Ottoman Empire. Today, he is celebrated as Albania's national hero, and his double-headed black eagle continues to feature on the Albanian flag.
Historical accounts generally align with this outline. Following the Battle of Varna, Skanderbeg left the Ottoman army, secured a forged firman (royal order) bearing the sultan's seal, and used it to claim Croia. Longfellow dramatizes and condenses the events, yet the essential trick is rooted in the historical record.
The poem clearly shows that the scribe chose not to follow Skanderbeg, stating, 'Our pathways here divide.' With his freedom intact, the scribe could return to the Ottoman court and reveal the forgery before Skanderbeg arrived in Croia. While killing him is harsh, Skanderbeg sees it as a necessary military action. Longfellow remains neutral, simply presenting the facts.
Iskander is the Turkish and Persian version of Alexander — think Alexander the Great. The Ottomans assigned this name to George Castriot due to his military genius. In the poem, Longfellow uses both names: Iskander when he’s in the role of an Ottoman general, and Scanderbeg (a twist on 'Iskander Beg,' which means Lord Alexander) after he embraces his Albanian heritage.
The Battle of Varna in 1444 was a significant confrontation between a Christian crusading army commanded by King Ladislaus of Hungary and Poland and the Ottoman forces under Sultan Murad II (referred to as Amurath in the poem). The Ottomans emerged victorious, but in the midst of the retreat, Skanderbeg managed to escape and start his rebellion. This battle serves as the catalyst that propels the entire poem forward.
Pentecost is an important Christian feast day, and Longfellow uses it to add a religious dimension to the battle. A Christian victory on such a holy day suggests divine approval — and for Skanderbeg, who would later defend Christian Albania against the Ottomans, this perspective is significant. It also lends the opening stanzas a liturgical, hymn-like rhythm.
He is a fictional narrator created by Longfellow to give the poem the aura of an ancient text. By referencing a fictional Hebrew book titled 'the Book of the Words of the Days,' Longfellow is toying with the traditions of historical epics — making it seem as though the story has been passed down through generations of scholars, when in fact, it’s his voice telling it.
It is part of *Tales of a Wayside Inn*, a narrative collection that Longfellow published in installments from 1863 to 1874. The structure draws inspiration from Chaucer's *Canterbury Tales*, featuring a group of travelers at an inn who share stories in turn. 'Scanderbeg' is one of these tales, narrated from the perspective of a Sicilian. It stands alongside other well-known pieces in the collection, such as 'Paul Revere's Ride.'