The Speeches Of Gratulations Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBAACCDDAAEEDFFFAAC CGGHHAAIIJJAACCKKHH AIJDDLLDDDD A CCLLHHAAHHHHHHHHHHAA AAHHDDDDAAMNOP HHLLAADDDDHHHHDDAA A DDD DMML QI DAH QAHH DHHAAHHHHHHDDCCD QLLAANNIIAAAAAAHHHHA AAADDHHHHAAAAIIAAHHA AIIHHAAAAHHLLDDAAIID DAAAAHHAA

GENIUSA
Time Fate and Fortune have at length conspir'dB
To give our Age the day so much desir'dB
What all the minutes houres weekes months and yearesA
That hang in file upon these silver hairesA
Could not produce beneath the Britaine strokeC
The Roman Saxon Dane and Norman yokeC
This point of Time hath done Now London reareD
Thy forehead high and on it strive to weareD
Thy choisest gems teach thy steepe Towres to riseA
Higher with people set with sparkling eyesA
Thy spacious windowes and in every streetE
Let thronging joy love and amazement meetE
Cleave all the ayre with shouts and let the cryD
Strike through as long and universallyF
As thunder for thou now art blist to seeF
That sight for which thou didst begin to beeF
When Brutus plough first gave thee infant boundsA
And I thy Genius walkt auspicious roundsA
In every furrow then did I fore lookeC
And saw this day mark't white in Clotho's bookeC
The severall circles both of change and swayG
Within this Isle there also figur'd layG
Of which the greatest perfectest and lastH
Was this whose present happinesse we tastH
Why keepe you silence daughters What dull peaceA
Is this inhabits you Shall office ceaseA
Upon th'aspect of him to whom you oweI
More than you are or can be Shall Time knowI
That article wherein your flame stood stillJ
And not aspir'd Now heaven avert an illJ
Of that black looke Ere pause possesse your brestsA
I wish you more of plagues Zeale when it restsA
Leaves to be zeale Up thou tame River wakeC
And from thy liquid limbes this slumber shakeC
Thou drown'st thy selfe in inofficious sleepeK
And these thy sluggish waters seeme to creepeK
Rather than flow Up rise and swell with prideH
Above thy bankes Now is not every tideH
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TAMESISA
To what vaine end should I contend to showI
My weaker powers when seas of pompe o'reflowJ
The Cities face and cover all the shoreD
With sands more rich than Tagus wealthy oreD
When in the floud of joy that comes with himL
He drownes the world yet makes it live and swimmeL
And spring with gladnesse not my fishes hereD
Though they be dumbe but doe expresse the cheereD
Of these bright streames No lesse may these and ID
Boast our delights albe't we silent lieD
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GENIUSA
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Indeed true gladnesse doth not alwayes speakeC
Joy bred and borne but in the tongue is weakeC
Yet lest the fervour of so pure a flameL
As this my Citie beares might lose the nameL
Without the apt eventing of her heatH
Know greatest James and no lesse good than greatH
In the behalfe of all my vertuous sonnesA
Whereof my eldest there thy pompe fore runnesA
A man without my flattering or his PrideH
As worthy as he's blest to be thy guideH
In his grave name and all his brethrens rightH
Who thirst to drink the nectar of thy sightH
The Councell Commoners and multitudeH
Glad that this day so long deny'd is view'dH
I tender thee the heartiest welcome yetH
That ever King had to his Empires seatH
Never came man more long'd for more desir'dH
And being come more reverenc'd lov'd admir'dH
Heare and record it In a Prince it isA
No little vertue to know who are hisA
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With like devotions doe I stoope t'embraceA
This springing glory of thy god like raceA
His Countries wonder hope love joy and prideH
How well doth hee become the royall sideH
Of this erected and broad spreading TreeD
Under whose shade may Britaine ever beD
And from this Branch may thousand Branches moreD
Shoot o're the maine and knit with every shoreD
In bonds of marriage kinred and increaseA
And stile this land the navill of their peaceA
This is your servants wish your Cities vowM
Which still shall propagate it selfe with youN
And free from spurres of hope that slow minds moveO
He seekes no hire that owes his life to loveP
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And here shee comes that is no lesse a partH
In this dayes greatnesse than in my glad heartH
Glory of Queenes and glory of your nameL
Whose graces doe as farre out speak your fameL
As Fame doth silence when her trumpet ringsA
You daughter sister wife of severall KingsA
Besides alliance and the stile of motherD
In which one title you drowne all your otherD
Instance be that faire shoot is gone beforeD
Your eldest joy and top of all your storeD
With those whose sight to us is yet deny'dH
But not our zeale to them or ought besideH
This Citie can to you For whose estateH
Shee hopes you will be still good advocateH
To her best Lord So whilst you mortall areD
No taste of sowre mortalitie once dareD
Approach your house nor fortune greet your GraceA
But comming on and with a forward faceA
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GENIUSA
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Stay what art thou that in this strange attireD
Dar'st kindle stranger and un hallowed fireD
Upon this AltarD
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FlD
Rather what art thouM
That dar'st so rudely interrupt my vowM
My habit speakes my nameL
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GeQ
A FlamenI
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FlD
YesA
And Martialis call'dH
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GeQ
I so did ghesseA
By my short view but whence didst thou ascendH
Hither or how or to what mystick endH
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FlD
The noyse and present tumult of this dayH
Rowsd me from sleep and silence where I layH
Obscur'd from light which when I wakt to seeA
I wondring thought what this great pompe might beeA
When looking in my Kalender I foundH
The Ides of March were entred and I boundH
With these to celebrate the geniall feastH
Of Anna still'd Perenna Mars his guestH
Who in this month of his is yearely call'dH
To banquet at his altars and instal'dH
A goddesse with him since she fils the yeareD
And knits the oblique scarfe that girts the spheareD
Whilest fourefac'd Janus turnes his vernall lookC
Upon their meeting houres as if he tookC
High pride and pleasureD
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GeQ
Sure thou still dost dreameL
And both thy tongue and thought rides on the streameL
Of phantasie Behold here he nor sheA
Have any altar fane or deityA
Stoope read but this inscription and then viewN
To whom the place is consecrate 'Tis trueN
That this is Janus temple and that nowI
He turnes upon the yeare his freshest browI
That this is Mars his month and these the IdesA
Wherein his Anne was honor'd both the tidesA
Titles and place we know but these dead ritesA
Are long since buryed and new power excitesA
More high and hearty flames Loe there is heA
Who brings with him a greater Anne than sheA
Whose strong and potent vertues have defac'dH
Sterne Mars his statues and upon them plac'dH
His and the Worlds blest blessings This hath broughtH
Sweet peace to sit in that bright State she oughtH
Unbloody or untroubled hath forc'd henceA
All tumults feares or other dark portentsA
That might invade weak minds hath made men seeA
Once more the face of welcome libertyA
And doth in all his present acts restoreD
That first pure World made of the better oreD
Now innocence shall cease to be the spoyleH
Of ravenous greatnesse or to steep the soyleH
Of raysed pesantry with teares and bloodH
No more shall rich men for their little goodH
Suspected to be made guilty or vile spiesA
Enjoy the lust of their so murdring eyesA
Men shall put off their yron minds and heartsA
The time forget his old malicious artsA
With this new minute and no print remaineI
Of what was thought the former ages staineI
Back Flamen with thy superstitious fumesA
And cense not here Thy ignorance presumesA
Too much in acting any Ethnick riteH
In this translated temple here no wightH
To sacrifice save my devotion comesA
That brings in stead of those thy masculine gumsA
My Cities heart which shall for ever burneI
Upon this Altar and no time shall turneI
The same to ashes here I fixe it fastH
Flame bright flame high and may it ever lastH
Whilst I before the figure of thy peaceA
Still tend the fire and give it quick increaseA
With prayers wishes vows whereof be theseA
The least and weakest that no age may leeseA
The memory of this so rich a dayH
But rather that it henceforth yearely mayH
Begin our spring and with our spring the primeL
And first accompt of yeares of months of timeL
And may these Ides as fortunate appeareD
To thee as they to C sar fatall wereD
Be all thy thoughts borne perfect and thy hopesA
In their events still crown'd beyond their scopesA
Let not wide heav'n that secret blessing knowI
To give which she on thee will not bestowI
Blind Fortune be thy slave and may her storeD
The lesse thou seek'st it follow thee the moreD
Much more I would but see these brazen gatesA
Make haste to close as urged by thy fatesA
Here ends my Cities office here it breakesA
Yet with my tongue and this pure heart she speakesA
A short farewell and lower than thy feetH
With fervent thankes thy Royall paines doth greetH
Pardon if my abruptnesse breed diseaseA
He merits not t'offend that hastes to pleaseA

Ben Jonson



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