Fleckno, An English Priest At Rome Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEFGGHHIJKKLLBM NOLLLLPPQQQRLLLLFFST TTLLLLBMTTTTUULLLLVV LLAAWWQQTTXXYYUZLLLL A2A2B2B2LLLLLLLLLUQQ TTQQLLLLC2C2LLLLTTLL D2E2F2F2QQLLLLLLUULL A2A2VVG2H2TTLQTTTTQQ TTBBI2I2LB2EELLLLLLL LJ2J2LLLB2B2Oblig'd by frequent visits of this man | A |
Whom as Priest Poet and Musician | B |
I for some branch of Melchizedeck took | C |
Though he derives himself from my Lord Brooke | C |
I sought his Lodging which is at the Sign | D |
Of the sad Pelican Subject divine | D |
For Poetry There three Stair Cases high | E |
Which signifies his triple property | F |
I found at last a Chamber as 'twas said | G |
But seem'd a Coffin set on the Stairs head | G |
Not higher then Seav'n nor larger then three feet | H |
Only there was nor Seeling nor a Sheet | H |
Save that th' ingenious Door did as you come | I |
Turn in and shew to Wainscot half the Room | J |
Yet of his State no man could have complain'd | K |
There being no Bed where he entertain'd | K |
And though within one Cell so narrow pent | L |
He'd Stanza's for a whole Appartement | L |
Straight without further information | B |
In hideous verse he and a dismal tone | M |
Begins to exercise as if I were | N |
Possest and sure the Devil brought me there | O |
But I who now imagin'd my selfbrought | L |
To my last Tryal in a serious thought | L |
Calm'd the disorders of my youthful Breast | L |
And to my Martyrdom prepared Rest | L |
Only this frail Ambition did remain | P |
The last distemper of the sober Brain | P |
That there had been some present to assure | Q |
The future Ages how I did indure | Q |
And how I silent turn'd my burning Ear | Q |
Towards the Verse and when that could n | R |
Held him the other and unchanged yet | L |
Ask'd still for more and pray'd him to repeat | L |
Till the Tyrant weary to persecute | L |
Left off and try'd t'allure me with his Lute | L |
Now as two Instruments to the same key | F |
Being tun'd by Art if the one touched be | F |
The other opposite as soon replies | S |
Mov'd by the Air and hidden Sympathies | T |
So while he with his gouty Fingers craules | T |
Over the Lute his murmuring Belly calls | T |
Whose hungry Guts to the same streightness twin'd | L |
In Echo to the trembling Strings repin'd | L |
I that perceiv'd now what his Musick ment | L |
Ask'd civilly if he had eat this Lent | L |
He answered yes with such and such an one | B |
For he has this of gen'rous that alone | M |
He never feeds save only when he tryes | T |
With gristly Tongue to dart the passing Flyes | T |
I ask'd if he eat flesh And he that was | T |
So hungry that though ready to say Mass | T |
Would break his fast before said he was Sick | U |
And th' Ordinance was only Politick | U |
Nor was I longer to invite him Scant | L |
Happy at once to make him Protestant | L |
And Silent Nothing now Dinner stay'd | L |
But till he had himself a Body made | L |
I mean till he were drest for else so thin | V |
He stands as if he only fed had been | V |
With consecrated Wafers and the Host | L |
Hath sure more flesh and blood then he can boast | L |
This Basso Relievo of a Man | A |
Who as a Camel tall yet easly can | A |
The Needles Eye thread without any stich | W |
His only impossible is to be rich | W |
Lest his too suttle Body growing rare | Q |
Should leave his Soul to wander in the Air | Q |
He therefore circumscribes himself in rimes | T |
And swaddled in's own papers seaven times | T |
Wears a close Jacket of poetick Buff | X |
With which he doth his third Dimension Stuff | X |
Thus armed underneath he over all | Y |
Does make a primitive Sotana fall | Y |
And above that yet casts an antick Cloak | U |
Worn at the first Counsel of Antioch | Z |
Which by the Jews long hid and Disesteem'd | L |
He heard of by Tradition and redeem'd | L |
But were he not in this black habit deck't | L |
This half transparent Man would soon reflect | L |
Each colour that he past by and be seen | A2 |
As the Chamelion yellow blew or green | A2 |
He drest and ready to disfurnish now | B2 |
His Chamber whose compactness did allow | B2 |
No empty place for complementing doubt | L |
But who came last is forc'd first to go out | L |
I meet one on the Stairs who made me stand | L |
Stopping the passage and did him demand | L |
I answer'd he is here Sir but you see | L |
You cannot pass to him but thorow me | L |
He thought himself affronted and reply'd | L |
I whom the Pallace never has deny'd | L |
Will make the way here I said Sir you'l do | L |
Me a great favour for I seek to go | U |
He gathring fury still made sign to draw | Q |
But himself there clos'd in a Scabbard saw | Q |
As narrow as his Sword's and I that was | T |
Delightful said there can no Body pass | T |
Except by penetration hither where | Q |
Two make a crowd nor can three Persons here | Q |
Consist but in one substance Then to fit | L |
Our peace the Priest said I too had some wit | L |
To prov't I said the place doth us invite | L |
But its own narrowness Sir to unite | L |
He ask'd me pardon and to make me way | C2 |
Went down as I him follow'd to obey | C2 |
But the propitiatory Priest had straight | L |
Oblig'd us when below to celebrate | L |
Together our attonement so increas'd | L |
Betwixt us two the Dinner to a Feast | L |
Let it suffice that we could eat in peace | T |
And that both Poems did and Quarrels cease | T |
During the Table though my new made Friend | L |
Did as he threatned ere 'twere long intend | L |
To be both witty and valiant I loth | D2 |
Said 'twas too late he was already both | E2 |
But now Alas my first Tormentor came | F2 |
Who satisfy'd with eating but not tame | F2 |
Turns to recite though Judges most severe | Q |
After th'Assizes dinner mild appear | Q |
And on full stomach do condemn but few | L |
Yet he more strict my sentence doth renew | L |
And draws out of the black box of his Breast | L |
Ten quire of paper in which he was drest | L |
Yet that which was a greater cruelty | L |
Then Nero's Poem he calls charity | L |
And so the Pelican at his door hung | U |
Picks out the tender bosome to its young | U |
Of all his Poems there he stands ungirt | L |
Save only two foul copies for his shirt | L |
Yet these he promises as soon as clean | A2 |
But how I loath'd to see my Neighbour glean | A2 |
Those papers which he pilled from within | V |
Like white fleaks rising from a Leaper's skin | V |
More odious then those raggs which the French youth | G2 |
At ordinaries after dinner show'th | H2 |
When they compare their Chancres and Poulains | T |
Yet he first kist them and after takes pains | T |
To read and then because he understood good | L |
Not one Word thought and swore that they were | Q |
But all his praises could not now appease | T |
The provok't Author whom it did displease | T |
To hear his Verses by so just a curse | T |
That were ill made condemn'd to be read worse | T |
And how impossible he made yet more | Q |
Absurdityes in them then were before | Q |
For he his untun'd voice did fall or raise | T |
As a deaf Man upon a Viol playes | T |
Making the half points and the periods run | B |
Confus'der then the atomes in the Sun | B |
Thereat the Poet swell'd with anger full | I2 |
And roar'd out like Perillus in's own Bull | I2 |
Sir you read false That any one but you | L |
Should know the contrary Whereat I now | B2 |
Made Mediator in my room said Why | E |
To say that you read false Sir is no Lye | E |
Thereat the waxen Youth relented straight | L |
But saw with sad dispair that was too late | L |
For the disdainful Poet was retir'd | L |
Home his most furious Satyr to have fir'd | L |
Against the Rebel who at this struck dead | L |
Wept bitterly as disinherited | L |
Who should commend his Mistress now Or who | L |
Praise him both difficult indeed to do | L |
With truth I counsell'd him to go in time | J2 |
Ere the fierce Poets anger turn'd to rime | J2 |
He hasted and I finding my self free | L |
Did as he threatned ere 'twere long intend | L |
As one scap't strangely from Captivity | L |
Have made the Chance be painted and go now | B2 |
To hang it in Saint Peter's for a Vow | B2 |
Andrew Marvell
(1)
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