Upon Appleton House, To My Lord Fairfax Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDD DDDDEEFF DDGHDDDD IJDDKKDD LMNNDDEE OODDNNPP DDQRDDSS TTDDUUVV NNWWFFVV XXNNDDYZ

Within this sober frame expectA
Work of no foreign architectA
That unto caves the quarries drewB
And forests did to pastures hewB
Who of his great design in painC
Did for a model vault his brainC
Whose columns should so high be rais'dD
To arch the brows that on them gaz'dD
-
Why should of all things man unrul'dD
Such unproportion'd dwellings buildD
The beasts are by their dens exprestD
And birds contrive an equal nestD
The low roof'd tortoises do dwellE
In cases fit of tortoise shellE
No creature loves an empty spaceF
Their bodies measure out their placeF
-
But he superfluously spreadD
Demands more room alive than deadD
And in his hollow palace goesG
Where winds as he themselves may loseH
What need of all this marble crustD
T'impark the wanton mote of dustD
That thinks by breadth the world t'uniteD
Though the first builders fail'd in heightD
-
But all things are composed hereI
Like nature orderly and nearJ
In which we the dimensions findD
Of that more sober age and mindD
When larger sized men did stoopK
To enter at a narrow loopK
As practising in doors so straightD
To strain themselves through Heaven's gateD
-
And surely when the after ageL
Shall hither come in pilgrimageM
These sacred places to adoreN
By Vere and Fairfax trod beforeN
Men will dispute how their extentD
Within such dwarfish confines wentD
And some will smile at this as wellE
As Romulus his bee like cellE
-
Humility alone designsO
Those short but admirable linesO
By which ungirt and unconstrain'dD
Things greater are in less contain'dD
Let others vainly strive t'immureN
The circle in the quadratureN
These holy mathematics canP
In ev'ry figure equal manP
-
Yet thus the laden house does sweatD
And scarce endures the master greatD
But where he comes the swelling hallQ
Stirs and the square grows sphericalR
More by his magnitude distress'dD
Then he is by its straightness press'dD
And too officiously it slightsS
That in itself which him delightsS
-
So honour better lowness bearsT
Than that unwonted greatness wearsT
Height with a certain grace does bendD
But low things clownishly ascendD
And yet what needs there here excuseU
Where ev'ry thing does answer useU
Where neatness nothing can condemnV
Nor pride invent what to contemnV
-
A stately frontispiece of poorN
Adorns without the open doorN
Nor less the rooms within commendsW
Daily new furniture of friendsW
The house was built upon the placeF
Only as for a mark of graceF
And for an inn to entertainV
Its lord a while but not remainV
-
Him Bishops Hill or Denton mayX
Or Billbrough better hold than theyX
But nature here hath been so freeN
As if she said leave this to meN
Art would more neatly have defac'dD
What she had laid so sweetly wasteD
In fragrant gardens shady woodsY
Deep meadows and transparent floodsZ

Andrew Marvell



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