The First Epistle Of The First Book Of Horace Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Alexander Pope

The First Epistle Of The First Book Of Horace Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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TO LORD BOLINGBROKE	A
	-
St John whose love indulged my labours past	B
Matures my present and shall bound my last	B
Why will you break the Sabbath of my days	C
Now sick alike of envy and of praise	C
Public too long ah let me hide my age	D
See modest Cibber now has left the stage	D
Our generals now retired to their estates	E
Hang their old trophies o'er the garden gates	E
In life's cool evening satiate of applause	F
Nor fond of bleeding even in Brunswick's cause	G
	-
A voice there is that whispers in my ear	H
'Tis reason's voice which sometimes one can hear	H
'Friend Pope be prudent let your Muse take breath	I
And never gallop Pegasus to death	I
Lest still and stately void of fire or force	J
You limp like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's horse '	-
	-
Farewell then verse and love and every toy	K
The rhymes and rattles of the man or boy	K
What right what true what fit we justly call	L
Let this be all my care for this is all	L
To lay this harvest up and hoard with haste	M
What every day will want and most the last	B
	-
But ask not to what doctors I apply	N
Sworn to no master of no sect am I	N
As drives the storm at any door I knock	A
And house with Montaigne now or now with Locke	A
Sometimes a patriot active in debate	O
Mix with the world and battle for the state	O
Free as young Lyttelton her cause pursue	P
Still true to virtue and as warm as true	P
Sometimes with Aristippus or St Paul	L
Indulge my candour and grow all to all	L
Back to my native moderation slide	Q
And win my way by yielding to the tide	Q
	-
Long as to him who works for debt the day	R
Long as the night to her whose love's away	R
Long as the year's dull circle seems to run	S
When the brisk minor pants for twenty one	S
So slow the unprofitable moments roll	T
That lock up all the functions of my soul	T
That keep me from myself and still delay	R
Life's instant business to a future day	R
That task which as we follow or despise	U
The eldest is a fool the youngest wise	U
Which done the poorest can no wants endure	V
And which not done the richest must be poor	W
	-
Late as it is I put myself to school	X
And feel some comfort not to be a fool	X
Weak though I am of limb and short of sight	Y
Far from a lynx and not a giant quite	Y
I'll do what Mead and Cheselden advise	U
To keep these limbs and to preserve these eyes	U
Not to go back is somewhat to advance	Z
And men must walk at least before they dance	Z
	-
Say does thy blood rebel thy bosom move	A2
With wretched avarice or as wretched love	B2
Know there are words and spells which can control	T
Between the fits this fever of the soul	T
Know there are rhymes which fresh and fresh applied	Q
Will cure the arrant'st puppy of his pride	Q
Be furious envious slothful mad or drunk	A
Slave to a wife or vassal to a punk	A
A Switz a High Dutch or a Low Dutch bear	C2
All that we ask is but a patient ear	H
	-
'Tis the first virtue vices to abhor	D2
And the first wisdom to be fool no more	D2
But to the world no bugbear is so great	O
As want of figure and a small estate	O
To either India see the merchant fly	N
Scared at the spectre of pale poverty	E2
See him with pains of body pangs of soul	T
Burn through the tropic freeze beneath the pole	T
Wilt thou do nothing for a nobler end	F2
Nothing to make philosophy thy friend	F2
To stop thy foolish views thy long desires	G2
And ease thy heart of all that it admires	H2
	-
Here Wisdom calls 'Seek Virtue first be bold	I2
As gold to silver Virtue is to gold '	-
There London's voice 'Get money money still	J2
And then let virtue follow if she will '	-
This this the saving doctrine preach'd to all	L
From low St James's up to high St Paul	L
From him whose quill stands quiver'd at his ear	H
To him who notches sticks at Westminster	K2
	-
Barnard in spirit sense and truth abounds	L2
'Pray then what wants he ' Fourscore thousand pounds	L2
A pension or such harness for a slave	M2
As Bug now has and Dorimant would have	N2
Barnard thou art a cit with all thy worth	O2
But Bug and D l their Honours and so forth	P2
	-
Yet every child another song will sing	A
'Virtue brave boys 'tis virtue makes a king '	-
True conscious honour is to feel no sin	Q2
He's arm'd without that's innocent within	Q2
Be this thy screen and this thy wall of brass	R2
Compared to this a minister's an ass	R2
	-
And say to which shall our applause belong	A
This new court jargon or the good old song	A
The modern language of corrupted peers	S2
Or what was spoke at Cressy and Poictiers	S2
Who counsels best who whispers 'Be but great	O
With praise or infamy leave that to fate	O
Get place and wealth if possible with grace	S2
If not by any means get wealth and place '	-
For what to have a box where eunuchs sing	A
And foremost in the circle eye a king	A
Or he who bids thee face with steady view	P
Proud fortune and look shallow greatness through	P
And while he bids thee sets th' example too	P
If such a doctrine in St James's air	C2
Should chance to make the well dress'd rabble stare	C2
If honest S z take scandal at a spark	A
That less admires the palace than the park	A
Faith I shall give the answer Reynard gave	M2
'I cannot like dread sir your royal cave	M2
Because I see by all the tracks about	T2
Full many a beast goes in but none comes out '	-
Adieu to virtue if you're once a slave	M2
Send her to court you send her to her grave	M2
	-
Well if a king's a lion at the least	U2
The people are a many headed beast	U2
Can they direct what measures to pursue	P
Who know themselves so little what to do	P
Alike in nothing but one lust of gold	I2
Just half the land would buy and half be sold	I2
Their country's wealth our mightier misers drain	V2
Or cross to plunder provinces the main	V2
The rest some farm the poor box some the pews	S2
Some keep assemblies and would keep the stews	S2
Some with fat bucks on childless dotards fawn	W2
Some win rich widows by their chine and brawn	W2
While with the silent growth of ten per cent	X2
In dirt and darkness hundreds stink content	X2
	-
Of all these ways if each pursues his own	Y2
Satire be kind and let the wretch alone	Y2
But show me one who has it in his power	K2
To act consistent with himself an hour	K2
Sir Job sail'd forth the evening bright and still	J2
'No place on earth' he cried 'like Greenwich hill '	-
Up starts a palace lo the obedient base	S2
Slopes at its foot the woods its sides embrace	S2
The silver Thames reflects its marble face	S2
Now let some whimsy or that devil within	Q2
Which guides all those who know not what they mean	Z2
But give the knight or give his lady spleen	Z2
'Away away take all your scaffolds down	A3
For snug's the word my dear we'll live in town '	-
	-
At amorous Flavio is the stocking thrown	Y2
That very night he longs to lie alone	Y2
The fool whose wife elopes some thrice a quarter	K2
For matrimonial solace dies a martyr	K2
Did ever Proteus Merlin any witch	B3
Transform themselves so strangely as the rich	B3
Well but the poor the poor have the same itch	B3
They change their weekly barber weekly news	S2
Prefer a new japanner to their shoes	S2
Discharge their garrets move their beds and run	S
They know not whither in a chaise and one	S
They hire their sculler and when once aboard	C3
Grow sick and damn the climate like a lord	C3
	-
You laugh half beau half sloven if I stand	D3
My wig all powder and all snuff my band	D3
You laugh if coat and breeches strangely vary	E2
White gloves and linen worthy Lady Mary	E2
But when no prelate's lawn with hair shirt lined	E3
Is half so incoherent as my mind	E3
When each opinion with the next at strife	F3
One ebb and flow of follies all my life	F3
I plant root up I build and then confound	G3
Turn round to square and square again to round	G3
You never change one muscle of your face	S2
You think this madness but a common case	S2
Nor once to Chancery nor to Hale apply	N
Yet hang your lip to see a seam awry	N
Careless how ill I with myself agree	E2
Kind to my dress my figure not to me	E2
Is this my guide philosopher and friend	F2
This he who loves me and who ought to mend	F2
Who ought to make me what he can or none	S
That man divine whom Wisdom calls her own	Y2
Great without title without fortune bless'd	H3
Rich even when plunder'd honour'd while oppress'd	H3
Loved without youth and follow'd without power	K2
At home though exiled free though in the Tower	K2
In short that reasoning high immortal thing	A
Just less than Jove and much above a king	A
Nay half in heaven except what's mighty odd	I3
A fit of vapours clouds this demi god	I3