A Pindaric Ode Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBCCDDAAEE A FFGGHHIIJJ K LMLMNNOPPOQQ A RRSSGGTTUU A VVWWXXYYBB K NNZZA2A2B2C2C2B2D2D2 A JJBBE2E2GGJJ A F2F2G2G2ZZE2E2SS K H2I2H2H2E2E2JJ2JJF2F 2 A JJK2K2E2E2L2M2H2H2 A J2J2JJH2H2N2N2XX H2 H2O2H2O2H2H2P2SSQ2R2 R2| THE TURN | A |
| Brave infant of Saguntum clear | B |
| Thy coming forth in that great year | B |
| When the prodigious Hannibal did crown | C |
| His rage with razing your immortal town | C |
| Thou looking then about | D |
| Ere thou wert half got out | D |
| Wise child didst hastily return | A |
| And mad'st thy mother's womb thine urn | A |
| How summ'd a circle didst thou leave mankind | E |
| Of deepest lore could we the centre find | E |
| - | |
| THE COUNTER TURN | A |
| - | |
| Did wiser nature draw thee back | F |
| From out the horror of that sack | F |
| Where shame faith honour and regard of right | G |
| Lay trampled on The deeds of death and night | G |
| Urg'd hurried forth and hurl'd | H |
| Upon th' affrighted world | H |
| Sword fire and famine with fell fury met | I |
| And all on utmost ruin set | I |
| As could they but life's miseries foresee | J |
| No doubt all infants would return like thee | J |
| - | |
| THE STAND | K |
| - | |
| For what is life if measur'd by the space | L |
| Not by the act | M |
| Or masked man if valu'd by his face | L |
| Above his fact | M |
| Here's one outliv'd his peers | N |
| And told forth fourscore years | N |
| He vexed time and busied the whole state | O |
| Troubled both foes and friends | P |
| But ever to no ends | P |
| What did this stirrer but die late | O |
| How well at twenty had he fall'n or stood | Q |
| For three of his four score he did no good | Q |
| - | |
| THE TURN | A |
| - | |
| He enter'd well by virtuous parts | R |
| Got up and thriv'd with honest arts | R |
| He purchas'd friends and fame and honours then | S |
| And had his noble name advanc'd with men | S |
| But weary of that flight | G |
| He stoop'd in all men's sight | G |
| To sordid flatteries acts of strife | T |
| And sunk in that dead sea of life | T |
| So deep as he did then death's waters sup | U |
| But that the cork of title buoy'd him up | U |
| - | |
| THE COUNTER TURN | A |
| - | |
| Alas but Morison fell young | V |
| He never fell thou fall'st my tongue | V |
| He stood a soldier to the last right end | W |
| A perfect patriot and a noble friend | W |
| But most a virtuous son | X |
| All offices were done | X |
| By him so ample full and round | Y |
| In weight in measure number sound | Y |
| As though his age imperfect might appear | B |
| His life was of humanity the sphere | B |
| - | |
| THE STAND | K |
| - | |
| Go now and tell out days summ'd up with fears | N |
| And make them years | N |
| Produce thy mass of miseries on the stage | Z |
| To swell thine age | Z |
| Repeat of things a throng | A2 |
| To show thou hast been long | A2 |
| Not liv'd for life doth her great actions spell | B2 |
| By what was done and wrought | C2 |
| In season and so brought | C2 |
| To light her measures are how well | B2 |
| Each syllabe answer'd and was form'd how fair | D2 |
| These make the lines of life and that's her air | D2 |
| - | |
| THE TURN | A |
| - | |
| It is not growing like a tree | J |
| In bulk doth make men better be | J |
| Or standing long an oak three hundred year | B |
| To fall a log at last dry bald and sear | B |
| A lily of a day | E2 |
| Is fairer far in May | E2 |
| Although it fall and die that night | G |
| It was the plant and flower of light | G |
| In small proportions we just beauties see | J |
| And in short measures life may perfect be | J |
| - | |
| THE COUNTER TURN | A |
| - | |
| Call noble Lucius then for wine | F2 |
| And let thy looks with gladness shine | F2 |
| Accept this garland plant it on thy head | G2 |
| And think nay know thy Morison's not dead | G2 |
| He leap'd the present age | Z |
| Possest with holy rage | Z |
| To see that bright eternal day | E2 |
| Of which we priests and poets say | E2 |
| Such truths as we expect for happy men | S |
| And there he lives with memory and Ben | S |
| - | |
| THE STAND | K |
| - | |
| Jonson who sung this of him ere he went | H2 |
| Himself to rest | I2 |
| Or taste a part of that full joy he meant | H2 |
| To have exprest | H2 |
| In this bright asterism | E2 |
| Where it were friendship's schism | E2 |
| Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry | J |
| To separate these twi | J2 |
| Lights the Dioscuri | J |
| And keep the one half from his Harry | J |
| But fate doth so alternate the design | F2 |
| Whilst that in heav'n this light on earth must shine | F2 |
| - | |
| THE TURN | A |
| - | |
| And shine as you exalted are | J |
| Two names of friendship but one star | J |
| Of hearts the union and those not by chance | K2 |
| Made or indenture or leas'd out t' advance | K2 |
| The profits for a time | E2 |
| No pleasures vain did chime | E2 |
| Of rhymes or riots at your feasts | L2 |
| Orgies of drink or feign'd protests | M2 |
| But simple love of greatness and of good | H2 |
| That knits brave minds and manners more than blood | H2 |
| - | |
| THE COUNTER TURN | A |
| - | |
| - | |
| This made you first to know the why | J2 |
| You lik'd then after to apply | J2 |
| That liking and approach so one the t'other | J |
| Till either grew a portion of the other | J |
| Each styled by his end | H2 |
| The copy of his friend | H2 |
| You liv'd to be the great surnames | N2 |
| And titles by which all made claims | N2 |
| Unto the virtue nothing perfect done | X |
| But as a Cary or a Morison | X |
| - | |
| THE STAND | H2 |
| - | |
| - | |
| And such a force the fair example had | H2 |
| As they that saw | O2 |
| The good and durst not practise it were glad | H2 |
| That such a law | O2 |
| Was left yet to mankind | H2 |
| Where they might read and find | H2 |
| Friendship indeed was written not in words | P2 |
| And with the heart not pen | S |
| Of two so early men | S |
| Whose lines her rolls were and records | Q2 |
| Who ere the first down bloomed on the chin | R2 |
| Had sow'd these fruits and got the harvest in | R2 |
Ben Jonson
(1)
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A Pindaric Ode is a poem by Ben Jonson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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