On The Death Of Mr. Crashaw Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDD EEFFGGBBHHDDIIBJKKLL MMBBNNOO PPFFQRSSTT UUVVWWXYZZBB A2A2B2C2D2D2E2E2F2F2 G2H2BBI2I2

Poet and saint to thee alone are givenA
The two most sacred names of earth and heavenA
The hard and rarest union which can beB
Next that of Godhead with humanityB
Long did the Muses banished slaves abideC
And built vain pyramids to mortal prideC
Like Moses thou though spells and charms withstandD
Hast brought them nobly home back to their Holy LandD
-
Ah wretched we poets of earth but thouE
Wert living the same poet which thou 'rt nowE
Whilst angels sing to thee their airs divineF
And joy in an applause so great as thineF
Equal society with them to holdG
Thou need'd not make new songs but say the oldG
And they kind spirits shall all rejoice to seeB
How little less than they exalted man may beB
Still the old heathen gods in numbers swellH
The heav'nliest thing on earth still keeps up hellH
Nor have we yet quite purged the Christian landD
Still idols here like calves at Bethel standD
And though Pan's death long since all oracles brokeI
Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spokeI
Nay with the worst of heathen dotage weB
Vain men the monster woman deifyJ
Find stars and tie our fates there in a faceK
And paradise in them by whom we lost it placeK
What different faults corrupt our muses thusL
Wanton as girls as old wives fabulousL
-
Thy spotless muse like Mary did containM
The boundless Godhead she did well disdainM
That her eternal verse employed should beB
On a less subject than eternityB
And for a sacred mistress scorned to takeN
But her whom God himself scorned not his spouse to makeN
It in a kind her miracle did doO
A fruitful mother was and virgin tooO
-
How well blest swan did fate contrive thy deathP
And made thee render up thy tuneful breathP
In thy great mistress' arms thou most divineF
And richest off'ring of Loretto's shrineF
Where like some holy sacrifice t' expireQ
A fever burns thee and love lights the fireR
Angels they say brought the famed chapel thereS
And bore the sacred load in triumph through the airS
'Tis surer much they brought thee there and theyT
And thou their charge went singing all the wayT
-
Pardon my mother church if I consentU
That angels led him when from thee he wentU
For even in error sure no danger isV
When joined with so much piety as hisV
Ah mighty God with shame I speak 't and griefW
Ah that our greatest faults were in beliefW
And our weak reason were ev'n weaker yetX
Rather than thus our wills too strong for itY
His faith perhaps in some nice tenents mightZ
Be wrong his life I'm sure was in the rightZ
And I myself a Catholic will beB
So far at least great saint to pray to theeB
-
Hail bard triumphant and some care bestowA2
On us the poets militant belowA2
Opposed by our old en'my adverse chanceB2
Attacked by envy and by ignoranceC2
Enchained by beauty tortured by desiresD2
Exposed by tyrant love to savage beasts and firesD2
Thou from low earth in nobler flames didst riseE2
And like Elijah mount alive the skiesE2
Elisha like but with a wish much lessF2
More fit thy greatness and my littlenessF2
Lo here I beg I whom thou once didst proveG2
So humble to esteem so good to loveH2
Not that thy spirit might on me doubled beB
I ask but half thy mighty spirit for meB
And when my muse soars with so strong a wingI2
'Twill learn of things divine and first of thee to singI2

Abraham Cowley



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