Satires And Epistles Of Horace Imitated. - Satire Ii. To Mr Bethel Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDD EE FFGGGG HHGGGGII G JJKKGGLMNN GGOOGGGG OOPP QQRRBBGGOOGG GGSSTTUUVVOOOO GGSSWW GGWWXXYYWW WWGGZA2B2B2 OOC2C2D2NE2E2F2F2G2G 2 GGG SSOOH2H2GG GGNNOO GGFFGGGGOOSSWWI2J2H2 H2K2BWW GGF2F2L2J2GGGGM2J2E2 N2N2OOOOOON2 GGGGO2O2| What and how great the virtue and the art | A |
| To live on little with a cheerful heart | A |
| A doctrine sage but truly none of mine | B |
| Let's talk my friends but talk before we dine | B |
| Not when a gilt buffet's reflected pride | C |
| Turns you from sound philosophy aside | C |
| Not when from plate to plate your eyeballs roll | D |
| And the brain dances to the mantling bowl | D |
| - | |
| Hear Bethel's sermon one not versed in schools | E |
| But strong in sense and wise without the rules | E |
| - | |
| Go work hunt exercise he thus began | F |
| Then scorn a homely dinner if you can | F |
| Your wine lock'd up your butler stroll'd abroad | G |
| Or fish denied the river yet unthaw'd | G |
| If then plain bread and milk will do the feat | G |
| The pleasure lies in you and not the meat | G |
| - | |
| Preach as I please I doubt our curious men | H |
| Will choose a pheasant still before a hen | H |
| Yet hens of Guinea full as good I hold | G |
| Except you eat the feathers green and gold | G |
| Of carps and mullets why prefer the great | G |
| Though cut in pieces ere my lord can eat | G |
| Yet for small turbots such esteem profess | I |
| Because God made these large the other less | I |
| - | |
| Oldfield with more than harpy throat endued | G |
| Cries 'Send me gods a whole hog barbecued ' | - |
| Oh blast it south winds till a stench exhale | J |
| Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail | J |
| By what criterion do ye eat d' ye think | K |
| If this is prized for sweetness that for stink | K |
| When the tired glutton labours through a treat | G |
| He finds no relish in the sweetest meat | G |
| He calls for something bitter something sour | L |
| And the rich feast concludes extremely poor | M |
| Cheap eggs and herbs and olives still we see | N |
| Thus much is left of old simplicity | N |
| - | |
| The robin redbreast till of late had rest | G |
| And children sacred held a martin's nest | G |
| Till beccaficos sold so devilish dear | O |
| To one that was or would have been a peer | O |
| Let me extol a cat on oysters fed | G |
| I'll have a party at the Bedford head | G |
| Or even to crack live crawfish recommend | G |
| I'd never doubt at court to make a friend | G |
| - | |
| 'Tis yet in vain I own to keep a pother | O |
| About one vice and fall into the other | O |
| Between excess and famine lies a mean | P |
| Plain but not sordid though not splendid clean | P |
| - | |
| Avidien or his wife no matter which | Q |
| For him you'll call a dog and her a bitch | Q |
| Sell their presented partridges and fruits | R |
| And humbly live on rabbits and on roots | R |
| One half pint bottle serves them both to dine | B |
| And is at once their vinegar and wine | B |
| But on some lucky day as when they found | G |
| A lost bank bill or heard their son was drown'd | G |
| At such a feast old vinegar to spare | O |
| Is what two souls so generous cannot bear | O |
| Oil though it stink they drop by drop impart | G |
| But souse the cabbage with a bounteous heart | G |
| - | |
| He knows to live who keeps the middle state | G |
| And neither leans on this side nor on that | G |
| Nor stops for one bad cork his butler's pay | S |
| Swears like Albutius a good cook away | S |
| Nor lets like Naevius every error pass | T |
| The musty wine foul cloth or greasy glass | T |
| Now hear what blessings temperance can bring | U |
| Thus said our friend and what he said I sing | U |
| First health the stomach cramm'd from every dish | V |
| A tomb of boil'd and roast and flesh and fish | V |
| Where bile and wind and phlegm and acid jar | O |
| And all the man is one intestine war | O |
| Remembers oft the school boy's simple fare | O |
| The temperate sleeps and spirits light as air | O |
| - | |
| How pale each worshipful and reverend guest | G |
| Rise from a clergy or a city feast | G |
| What life in all that ample body say | S |
| What heavenly particle inspires the clay | S |
| The soul subsides and wickedly inclines | W |
| To seem but mortal even in sound divines | W |
| - | |
| On morning wings how active springs the mind | G |
| That leaves the load of yesterday behind | G |
| How easy every labour it pursues | W |
| How coming to the poet every Muse | W |
| Not but we may exceed some holy time | X |
| Or tired in search of truth or search of rhyme | X |
| Ill health some just indulgence may engage | Y |
| And more the sickness of long life old age | Y |
| For fainting age what cordial drop remains | W |
| If our intemperate youth the vessel drains | W |
| - | |
| Our fathers praised rank ven'son You suppose | W |
| Perhaps young men our fathers had no nose | W |
| Not so a buck was then a week's repast | G |
| And 'twas their point I ween to make it last | G |
| More pleased to keep it till their friends could come | Z |
| Than eat the sweetest by themselves at home | A2 |
| Why had not I in those good times my birth | B2 |
| Ere coxcomb pies or coxcombs were on earth | B2 |
| - | |
| Unworthy he the voice of fame to hear | O |
| That sweetest music to an honest ear | O |
| For faith Lord Fanny you are in the wrong | C2 |
| The world's good word is better than a song | C2 |
| Who has not learn'd fresh sturgeon and ham pie | D2 |
| Are no rewards for want and infamy | N |
| When luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf | E2 |
| Cursed by thy neighbours thy trustees thyself | E2 |
| To friends to fortune to mankind a shame | F2 |
| Think how posterity will treat thy name | F2 |
| And buy a rope that future times may tell | G2 |
| Thou hast at least bestow'd one penny well | G2 |
| - | |
| 'Right ' cries his lordship 'for a rogue in need | G |
| To have a taste is insolence indeed | G |
| In me 'tis noble suits my birth and state | G |
| My wealth unwieldy and my heap too great ' | - |
| Then like the sun let bounty spread her ray | S |
| And shine that superfluity away | S |
| Oh impudence of wealth with all thy store | O |
| How dar'st thou let one worthy man be poor | O |
| Shall half the new built churches round thee fall | H2 |
| Make quays build bridges or repair Whitehall | H2 |
| Or to thy country let that heap be lent | G |
| As Marlbro's was but not at five per cent | G |
| - | |
| Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her mind | G |
| Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind | G |
| And who stands safest tell me is it he | N |
| That spreads and swells in puff'd prosperity | N |
| Or blest with little whose preventing care | O |
| In peace provides fit arms against a war | O |
| - | |
| Thus Bethel spoke who always speaks his thought | G |
| And always thinks the very thing he ought | G |
| His equal mind I copy what I can | F |
| And as I love would imitate the man | F |
| In South sea days not happier when surmised | G |
| The lord of thousands than if now excised | G |
| In forest planted by a father's hand | G |
| Than in five acres now of rented land | G |
| Content with little I can piddle here | O |
| On broccoli and mutton round the year | O |
| But ancient friends though poor or out of play | S |
| That touch my bell I cannot turn away | S |
| 'Tis true no turbots dignify my boards | W |
| But gudgeons flounders what my Thames affords | W |
| To Hounslow Heath I point and Bansted Down | I2 |
| Thence comes your mutton and these chicks my own | J2 |
| From yon old walnut tree a shower shall fall | H2 |
| And grapes long lingering on my only wall | H2 |
| And figs from standard and espalier join | K2 |
| The devil is in you if you cannot dine | B |
| Then cheerful healths your mistress shall have place | W |
| And what's more rare a poet shall say grace | W |
| - | |
| Fortune not much of humbling me can boast | G |
| Though double tax'd how little have I lost | G |
| My life's amusements have been just the same | F2 |
| Before and after standing armies came | F2 |
| My lands are sold my father's house is gone | L2 |
| I'll hire another's is not that my own | J2 |
| And yours my friends through whose free opening gate | G |
| None comes too early none departs too late | G |
| For I who hold sage Homer's rule the best | G |
| Welcome the coming speed the going guest | G |
| 'Pray Heaven it last ' cries Swift 'as you go on | M2 |
| I wish to God this house had been your own | J2 |
| Pity to build without a son or wife | E2 |
| Why you'll enjoy it only all your life ' | - |
| Well if the use be mine can it concern one | N2 |
| Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon | N2 |
| What's property dear Swift You see it alter | O |
| From you to me from me to Peter Walter | O |
| Or in a mortgage prove a lawyer's share | O |
| Or in a jointure vanish from the heir | O |
| Or in pure equity the case not clear | O |
| The Chancery takes your rents for twenty year | O |
| At best it falls to some ungracious son | N2 |
| Who cries 'My father's damn'd and all's my own ' | - |
| Shades that to Bacon could retreat afford | G |
| Become the portion of a booby lord | G |
| And Helmsley once proud Buckingham's delight | G |
| Slides to a scrivener or a city knight | G |
| Let lands and houses have what lords they will | O2 |
| Let us be fix'd and our own masters still | O2 |
Alexander Pope
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About Satires And Epistles Of Horace Imitated. - Satire Ii. To Mr Bethel
Satires And Epistles Of Horace Imitated. - Satire Ii. To Mr Bethel is a poem by Alexander Pope. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.