The Miseries Of Man Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFF GGHHII JJJJKKLLMMNNOO HDKKGGPPDDDDQQRRDDSG QQ JJHHTTQQ UUJJQQJJDDJJQQDDRRRR QQDDDD HHRRVVQQHQQQ DDQQDDWWDDDDDDDDXXQQ QQDDQQQ DDJJDDJJMMYYQQ ZZDDDD QQRRLLQQZZJJQQDDQQ A2

In that so temperate Soil Arcadia nam'dA
For fertile Pasturage by Poets fam'dA
Stands a steep Hill whose lofty jetting CrownB
Casts o'er the neighbouring Plains a seeming FrownB
Close at its mossie Foot an aged WoodC
Compos'd of various Trees there long has stoodC
Whose thick united Tops scorn the Sun's RayD
And hardly will admit the Eye of DayD
By oblique windings through this gloomy ShadeE
Has a clear purling Stream its Passage madeE
The Nimph as discontented seem'd t'ave choseF
This sad Recess to murmur forth her WoesF
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To this Retreat urg'd by tormenting CareG
The melancholly Cloris did repairG
As a fit Place to take the sad ReliefH
Of Sighs and Tears to ease oppressing GriefH
Near to the Mourning Nimph she chose a SeatI
And these Complaints did to the Shades repeatI
-
-
Ah wretched trully wretched Humane RaceJ
Your Woes from what Beginning shall I traceJ
Where End from your first feeble New born CryesJ
To the last Tears that wet your dying EyesJ
Man Common Foe assail'd on ev'ry handK
Finds that no Ill does Neuter by him standK
Inexorable Death Lean PovertyL
Pale Sickness ever sad CaptivityL
Can I alas the sev'ral Parties nameM
Which muster'd up the Dreadful Army frameM
And sometimes in One Body all UniteN
Sometimes again do separately fightN
While sure Success on either Way does waiteO
Either a Swift or else a Ling'ring FateO
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But why 'gainst thee O Death should I inveighH
That to our Quiet art the only wayD
And yet I would could I thy Dart commandK
Crie Here O strike and there O hold thy HandK
The Lov'd the Happy and the Youthful spareG
And end the Sad the Sick the Poor Mans CareG
But whether thou or Blind or Cruel artP
Whether 'tis Chance or Malice guides thy DartP
Thou from the Parents Arms dost pull awayD
The hopeful Child their Ages only stayD
The Two whom Friendship in dear Bands hs ty'dD
Thou dost with a remorseless hand devideD
Friendship the Cement that does faster twineQ
Two Souls than that which Soul and Body joynQ
Thousands have been who their own Blood did spillR
But never any yet his Friend did killR
Then 'gainst thy Dart what Armour can be foundD
Who where thou do'st not strike do'st deepest woundD
Thy Pitty than thy Wrath's more bitter farS
Most cruel where 'twould seem the most to spareG
Yet thou of many Evils art but OneQ
Though thou by much too many art aloneQ
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What shall I say of Poverty whence flowsJ
To miserable Man so many WoesJ
Rediculous Evil which too oft we proveH
Does Laughter cause where it should Pitty moveH
Solitary Ill into which no EyeT
Though ne're so Curious ever cares to pryT
And were there 'mong such plenty onely OneQ
Poor Man he certainly would live aloneQ
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Yet Poverty does leave the Man entireU
But Sickness nearer Mischiefs does conspireU
Invades the Body with a loath'd EmbraceJ
Prides both its Strength and Beauty to defaceJ
Nor does it Malice in these bounds restrainQ
But shakes the Throne of Sacred Wit the BrainQ
And with a ne're enough detested ForceJ
Reason disturbs and turns out of its CourseJ
Again when Nature some Rare Piece has madeD
On which her Utmost Skill she seems t'ave laidD
Polish't adorn'd the Work with moving GraceJ
And in the Beauteous Frame a Soul doth placeJ
So perfectly compos'd it makes DivineQ
Each Motion Word and Look from thence does shineQ
This Goodly Composition the DelightD
Of ev'ry Heart and Joy of ev'ry sightD
Its peevish Malice has the Power to spoyleR
And with a Sully'd Hand its Lusture soyleR
The Grief were Endless that should all bewaileR
Against whose sweet Repose thou dost prevailR
Some freeze with Agues some with Feavers burnQ
Whose Lives thou half out of their Holds dost turnQ
And of whose Sufferings it may be saidD
They living feel the very State o' th' DeadD
Thou in a thousand sev'ral Forms are drestD
And in them all dost Wretched Man infestD
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And yet as if these Evils were too fewH
Men their own Kind with hostile Arms pursueH
Not Heavens fierce Wrath nor yet the Hate of HellR
Not any Plague that e're the World befelR
Not Inundations Famines Fires blind rageV
Did ever Mortals equally engageV
As Man does Man more skilful to annoyQ
Both Mischievous and Witty to destroyQ
The bloody Wolf the Wolf doe not pursueH
The Boar though fierce his Tusk will not embrueQ
In his own Kind Bares not on Bares do preyQ
Then art thou Man more savage far than theyQ
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And now methinks I present do beholdD
The Bloudy Fields that are in Fame enroll'dD
I see I see thousands in Battle slainQ
The Dead and Dying cover all the PlainQ
Confused Noises hear each way sent outD
The Vanquishts Cries joyn'd with the Victors shoutD
Their Sighs and Groans whho draw a painful BreathW
And feel the Pangs of slow approaching DeathW
Yet happier these far happier are the DeadD
Than who into Captivity are ledD
What by their Chains and by the Victors PrideD
We pity these and envy those that dy'dD
And who can say when Thousands are betray'dD
To Widdowhood Orphants or Childless madeD
Whither the Day does draw more Tears or BloodD
A greater Chrystal or a Crimson FloudD
The faithful Wife who late her Lord did ArmX
And hop'd to shield by holy Vows from HarmX
Follow'd his parting steps with Love and CareQ
Sent after weeping Eyes while he afarQ
Rod heated on born by a brave DisdainQ
May now go seek him lying 'mong the SlainQ
Low on the Earth she'l find his lofty CrestD
And those refulgent Arms which late his BreastD
Did guard by rough Encounters broke and toreQ
His Face and Hair with Brains all clotted oreQ
And Warlike Weeds besmeer'd with Dust and GoreQ
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And will the Suffering World never bestowD
Upon th'Accursed Causers of such WoeD
A vengeance that may parallel their LossJ
Fix Publick Thieves and Robbers on the CrossJ
Such as call Ruine Conquest in their PrideD
And having plagu'd Mankind in Triumph rideD
Like that renounced Murder who stainesJ
In these our days Alsatias fertile PlainsJ
Only to fill the future Tomp of FameM
Though greater Crimes than Glory it proclameM
Alcides Scourge of Thieves return to EarthY
Which uncontrolled gives such Monsters birthY
On Scepter'd Cacus let thy Power be shownQ
Pull him not from his Den but from his ThroneQ
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Clouds of black Thoughts her further Speech here brokeZ
Her swelling Grief too great was to be spokeZ
Which strugl'd long in her tormented MindD
Till it some Vent by Sighs and Tears did findD
And when her Sorrow something was subdu'dD
She thus again her sad Complaint renewedD
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Most Wretched Man were th'Ills I nam'd beforeQ
All which I could in thy sad State deploreQ
Did Things without alone 'gainst thee prevailR
My Tongue I'de chide that them I did bewaileR
But Shame to Reason thou are seen to beL
Unto thy self the fatall'st EnemyL
Within thy Breast the Greatest Plagues to bearQ
First them to breed and then to cherish thereQ
Unmanag'd Passions which the Reins have brokeZ
Of Reason and refuse to bear its YokeZ
But hurry thee uncurb'd from place to placeJ
A wild unruly and an Uncouth ChaceJ
Now cursed Gold does lead the Man astrayQ
False flatt'ring Honours do anon betrayQ
Then Beauty does as dang'rously deludeD
Beauty that vanishes while 'tis pursu'dD
That while we do behold it fades awayQ
And even a Long Encomium will not stayQ
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Each one of theA2

Anne Killigrew



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