To Penshurst Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIDJ KKLLMMNNOPQQGRSSTTMM UUVVWWXXYYIIYYJJZZAA YYXXYYA2B2YYYYJJYYMM C2C2JJYYJA2YYD2D2XXM MJJMMB2B2MM

Thou art not Penshurst built to envious showA
Of touch or marble nor canst boast a rowA
Of polish'd pillars or a roofe of goldB
Thou hast no lantherne whereof tales are toldB
Or stayre or courts but stand'st an ancient pileC
And these grudg'd at art reverenc'd the whileC
Thou joy'st in better marks of soile of ayreD
Of wood of water therein thou art faireD
Thou hast thy walkes for health as well as sportE
Thy Mount to which the Dryads do resortE
Where Pan and Bacchus their high feasts have madeF
Beneath the broad beech and the chest nut shadeF
That taller tree which of a nut was setG
At his great birth where all the Muses metG
There in the writhed barke are cut the namesH
Of many a Sylvane taken with his flamesH
And thence the ruddy Satyres oft provokeI
The lighter Faunes to reach thy Ladies okeI
Thy copp's too nam'd of Gamage thou hast thereD
That never failes to serve thee season'd deereJ
When thou would'st feast or exercise thy friendsK
The lower land that to the river bendsK
Thy sheep thy bullocks kine and calves do feedL
The middle grounds thy Mares and Horses breedL
Each banck doth yeeld thee Coneyes and the toppsM
Fertile of wood Ashore and Sydney's copp'sM
To crown thy open table doth provideN
The purpled Phesant with the speckled sideN
The painted Partrich lyes in every fieldO
And for thy messe is willing to be kill'dP
And if the high swolne Medway faile thy dishQ
Thou hast thy ponds that pay thee tribute fishQ
Fat aged Carps that run into thy netG
And Pikes now weary their own kinde to eatR
As loth the second draught or cast to stayS
Officiously at first themselves betrayS
Bright Eeles that emulate them and leap on landT
Before the fisher or into his handT
Then hath thy Orchard fruit thy garden flowersM
Fresh as the ayre and new as are the houresM
The earely Cherry with the later PlumU
Fig Grape and Quince each in his time doth comeU
The blushing Apricot and woolly PeachV
Hang on thy wals that every child may reachV
And though thy wals be of the countrey stoneW
They' are rear'd with no mans ruine no mans groneW
There's none that dwell about them wish them downeX
But all come in the farmer and the clowneX
And no one empty handed to saluteY
Thy Lord and Lady though they have no suteY
Some bring a Capon some a rurall CakeI
Some Nuts some Apples some that think they makeI
The better Cheeses bring 'hem or else sendY
By their ripe daughters whom they would commendY
This way to husbands and whose baskets beareJ
An Embleme of themselves in plum or peareJ
But what can this more than expresse their loveZ
Adde to thy free provisions farre aboveZ
The need of such whose liberall boord doth flowA
With all that hospitality doth knowA
Where comes no guest but is allow'd to eatY
Without his feare and of thy Lords own meatY
Where the same beere and bread and selfe same wineX
That is his Lordships shall be also mineX
And I not faine to sit as some this dayY
At great mens tables and yet dine awayY
Here no man tels my cups nor standing byA2
A waiter doth my gluttony envyB2
But gives me what I call for and lets me eateY
He knowes below he shall finde plentie of meateY
Thy tables hoord not up for the next dayY
Nor when I take my lodging need I prayY
For fire or lights or livorie all is thereJ
As if thou then wert mines or I raign'd hereJ
There's nothing I can wish for which I stayY
That found King James when hunting late this wayY
With his brave sonne the Prince they saw thy firesM
Shine bright on every harth as the desiresM
Of thy Penates had beene set on flameC2
To entertayne them or the Countrey cameC2
With all their zeale to warme their welcome hereJ
What great I will not say but sodaine cheareJ
Didst thou then make 'hem and what praise was heap'dY
On thy good lady then who therein reap'dY
The just reward of her high huswiferyJ
To have her linnen plate and all things nighA2
When she was farre and not a roome but drestY
As if it had expected such a guestY
These Penshurst are thy praise and yet not allD2
Thy lady's noble fruitfull chaste withallD2
His children thy great lord may call his owneX
A fortune in this age but rarely knowneX
They are and have been taught religion ThenceM
Their gentler spirits have suck'd innocenceM
Each morne and even they are taught to prayJ
With the whole houshold and may every dayJ
Reade in their vertuous parents noble partsM
The mysteries of manners armes and artsM
Now Penshurst they that will proportion theeB2
With other edifices when they seeB2
Those proud ambitious heaps and nothing elseM
May say their lords have built but thy lord dwellsM

Ben Jonson



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