The Spleen Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBACDDCEEFFFGGHIIHJ GGGGJ KKLLMMMGGGGNOONNPP QQGGRSGGQGHNTHGGGUUU VVUUWXGVVGYYYVVGGUVV UVVVVV VVVVZVVA2ZVSJNSVGVGV VVVVB2B2VC2C2GGG C2C2GGC2C2C2MMVVVD2D 2GGG VVVVGVVGGGGE2E2

What art thou SPLEEN which ev'ry thing dost apeA
Thou Proteus to abus'd MankindB
Who never yet thy real Cause cou'd findB
Or fix thee to remain in one continued ShapeA
Still varying thy perplexing FormC
Now a Dead Sea thou'lt representD
A Calm of stupid DiscontentD
Then dashing on the Rocks wilt rage into a StormC
Trembling sometimes thou dost appearE
Dissolv'd into a Panick FearE
On Sleep intruding dost thy Shadows spreadF
Thy gloomy Terrours round the silent BedF
And croud with boading Dreams the Melancholy HeadF
Or when the Midnight Hour is toldG
And drooping Lids thou still dost waking holdG
Thy fond Delusions cheat the EyesH
Before them antick Spectres danceI
Unusual Fires their pointed Heads advanceI
And airy Phantoms riseH
Such was the monstrous Vision seenJ
When Brutus now beneath his Cares opprestG
And all Rome's Fortunes rolling in his BreastG
Before Philippi's latest FieldG
Before his Fate did to Octavius leadG
Was vanquish'd by the SpleenJ
-
Falsly the Mortal Part we blameK
Of our deprest and pond'rous FrameK
Which till the First degrading SinL
Let Thee its dull Attendant inL
Still with the Other did complyM
Nor clogg'd the Active Soul dispos'd to flyM
And range the Mansions of it's native SkyM
Nor whilst in his own Heaven he dweltG
Whilst Man his Paradice possestG
His fertile Garden in the fragrant EastG
And all united Odours smeltG
No armed Sweets until thy ReignN
Cou'd shock the Sense or in the FaceO
A flusht unhandsom Colour placeO
Now the Jonquille o'ercomes the feeble BrainN
We faint beneath the Aromatick PainN
Till some offensive Scent thy Pow'rs appeaseP
And Pleasure we resign for short and nauseous EaseP
-
In ev'ry One thou dost possessQ
New are thy Motions and thy DressQ
Now in some Grove a list'ning FriendG
Thy false Suggestions must attendG
Thy whisper'd Griefs thy fancy'd Sorrows hearR
Breath'd in a Sigh and witness'd by a TearS
Whilst in the light and vulgar CroudG
Thy Slaves more clamorous and loudG
By Laughters unprovok'd thy Influence too confessQ
In the Imperious Wife thou Vapours artG
Which from o'erheated Passions riseH
In Clouds to the attractive BrainN
Until descending thence againT
Thro' the o'er cast and show'ring EyesH
Upon her Husband's soften'd HeartG
He the disputed Point must yieldG
Something resign of the contested FieldG
Til Lordly Man born to Imperial SwayU
Compounds for Peace to make that Right awayU
And Woman arm'd with Spleen do's servilely ObeyU
-
The Fool to imitate the WitsV
Complains of thy pretended FitsV
And Dulness born with him wou'd layU
Upon thy accidental SwayU
Because sometimes thou dost presumeW
Into the ablest Heads to comeX
That often Men of Thoughts refin'dG
Impatient of unequal SenceV
Such slow Returns where they so much dispenseV
Retiring from the Croud are to thy Shades inclin'dG
O'er me alas thou dost too much prevailY
I feel thy Force whilst I against thee railY
I feel my Verse decay and my crampt Numbers failY
Thro' thy black Jaundice I all Objects seeV
As Dark and Terrible as TheeV
My Lines decry'd and my Employment thoughtG
An useless Folly or presumptuous FaultG
Whilst in the Muses Paths I strayU
Whilst in their Groves and by their secret SpringsV
My Hand delights to trace unusual ThingsV
And deviates from the known and common wayU
Nor will in fading Silks composeV
Faintly th' inimitable RoseV
Fill up an ill drawn Bird or paint on GlassV
The Sov'reign's blurr'd and undistinguish'd FaceV
The threatning Angel and the speaking AssV
-
Patron thou art to ev'ry gross AbuseV
The sullen Husband's feign'd ExcuseV
When the ill Humour with his Wife he spendsV
And bears recruited Wit and Spirits to his FriendsV
The Son of Bacchus pleads thy Pow'rZ
As to the Glass he still repairsV
Pretends but to remove thy CaresV
Snatch from thy Shades one gay and smiling HourA2
And drown thy Kingdom in a purple Show'rZ
When the Coquette whom ev'ry Fool admiresV
Wou'd in Variety be FairS
And changing hastily the SceneJ
From Light Impertinent and VainN
Assumes a soft a melancholy AirS
And of her Eyes rebates the wand'ring FiresV
The careless Posture and the Head reclin'dG
The thoughtful and composed FaceV
Proclaiming the withdrawn the absent MindG
Allows the Fop more liberty to gazeV
Who gently for the tender Cause inquiresV
The Cause indeed is a Defect in SenseV
Yet is the Spleen alleg'd and still the dull PretenceV
But these are thy fantastic HarmsV
The Tricks of thy pernicious StageB2
Which do the weaker Sort engageB2
Worse are the dire Effects of thy more pow'rful CharmsV
By Thee Religion all we knowC2
That shou'd enlighten here belowC2
Is veil'd in Darkness and perplextG
With anxious Doubts with endless Scruples vextG
And some Restraint imply'd from each perverted TextG
-
Whilst Touch not Taste not what is freely giv'nC2
Is but thy niggard Voice disgracing bounteous Heav'nC2
From Speech restrain'd by thy Deceits abus'dG
To Desarts banish'd or in Cells reclus'dG
Mistaken Vot'ries to the Pow'rs DivineC2
Whilst they a purer Sacrifice designC2
Do but the Spleen obey and worship at thy ShrineC2
In vain to chase thee ev'ry Art we tryM
In vain all Remedies applyM
In vain the Indian Leaf infuseV
Or the parch'd Eastern Berry bruiseV
Some pass in vain those Bounds and nobler Liquors useV
Now Harmony in vain we bringD2
Inspire the Flute and touch the StringD2
From Harmony no help is hadG
Musick but soothes thee if too sweetly sadG
And if too light but turns thee gayly MadG
-
Tho' the Physicians greatest GainsV
Altho' his growing Wealth he seesV
Daily increas'd by Ladies FeesV
Yet dost thou baffle all his studious PainsV
Not skilful Lower thy Source cou'd findG
Or thro' the well dissected Body traceV
The secret the mysterious waysV
By which thou dost surprize and prey upon the MindG
Tho' in the Search too deep for Humane ThoughtG
With unsuccessful Toil he wroughtG
'Til thinking Thee to've catch'd Himself by thee was caughtG
Retain'd thy Pris'ner thy acknowleg'd SlaveE2
And sunk beneath thy Chain to a lamented GraveE2

Anne Kingsmill Finch



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