To Sir Robert Wroth Poem Rhyme Scheme

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How blest art thou canst love the countrey Wroth	A
Whether by choyce or fate or both	A
And though so neere the Citie and the Court	B
Art tane with neithers vice nor sport	B
That at great times art no ambitious guest	C
Of Sheriffes dinner or Maiors feast	D
Nor com'st to view the better cloth of State	E
The richer hangings or crowne plate	E
Nor throng'st when masquing is to have a fight	F
Of the short braverie of the night	F
To view the jewels stuffes the paines the wit	G
There wasted some not paid for yet	H
But canst at home in thy securer rest	C
Live with un bought provision blest	C
Free from proud porches or their guilded roofes	I
'Mongst loughing heards and solid hoofes	I
Along'st the curled woods and painted meades	I
Through which a serpent river leades	I
To some coole courteous shade which he cals his	I
And makes sleep softer than it is	I
Or if thou list the night in watch to breake	J
A bed canst heare the loud stag speake	J
In spring oft roused for their masters sport	B
Who for it makes thy house his court	B
Or with thy friends the heart of all the yeare	K
Divid'st upon the lesser Deere	K
In Autumne at the Partrich mak'st a flight	F
And giv'st thy gladder guests the sight	F
And in the Winter hunt'st the flying Hare	K
More for thy exercise than fare	K
While all that follow their glad eares apply	L
To the full greatnesse of the cry	L
Or hauking at the River or the Bush	M
Or shooting at the greedy Thrush	N
Thou dost with some delight the day out weare	L
Although the coldest of the yeare	L
The whil'st the severall seasons thou hast seene	O
Of flowry Fields of cop'ces greene	O
The mowed Meddows with the fleeced Sheep	P
And feasts that either shearers keep	P
The ripened eares yet humble in their height	F
And furrows laden with their weight	E
The apple harvest that doth longer last	Q
The hogs return'd home fat from mast	Q
The trees cut out in log and those boughs made	R
A fire now that lend a shade	R
Thus Pan and Sylvane having had their rites	I
Comus puts in for new delights	I
And fils thy open hall with mirth and cheere	L
As if in Saturnes raigne it were	L
Apollo's Harpe and Hermes Lyre resound	S
Nor are the Muses strangers found	S
The rout of rurall folk come thronging in	O
Their rudenesse then is thought no sin	O
Thy noblest pouse affords them welcome grace	I
And the great Heroes of her race	I
Sit mixt with losse of State or reverence	I
Freedome doth with degree dispence	I
The jolly wassall walks the often round	S
And in their cups their cares are drown'd	S
They think not then which side the cause shall leese	I
Nor how to get the Lawyer fees	I
Such and no other was that age of old	T
Which boasts t'have had the head of gold	T
And such since thou canst make thine own content	U
Strive Wroth to live long innocent	V
Let others watch in guilty armes and stand	W
The fury of a rash command	W
Go enter breaches meet the cannons rage	X
That they may sleep with scarres in age	X
And shew their feathers shot and Cullours torne	O
And brag that they were therefore borne	O
Let this man sweat and wrangle at the barre	L
For every price in every jarre	L
And change possessions oftner with his breath	A
Than either money war or death	A
Let him than hardest sires more disinherit	W
And each where boast it as his merit	W
To blow up Ophanes Widdows and their states	I
And think his power doth equall Fates	I
Let that go heape a masse of wretched wealth	A
Purchas'd by rapine worse than stealth	A
And brooding o're it sit with broadest eyes	I
Not doing good scarce when he dyes	I
Let thousands more go flatter vice and winne	O
By being organes to great sin	O
Get place and honor and be glad to keepe	P
The secrets that shall breake their sleepe	P
And so they ride in Purple eat in Plate	W
Though poyson thinke it a great fate	W
But thou my Wroth if I can truth apply	L
Shalt neither that nor this envy	L
Thy peace is made and when mans state is well	Y
'Tis better if he there can dwell	Y
God wisheth none should wracke on a strange shelfe	L
To him man's dearer than t'himselfe	L
And howsoever we may thinke things sweet	W
He alwayes gives what he knowes meet	W
Which who can use is happy Such be thou	A
Thy mornings and thy evenings Vow	A
Be thankes to him and earnest prayer to finde	W
A body sound with sounder minde	W
To do thy Countrey service thy selfe right	W
That neither Want doe thee affright	W
Nor Death but when thy latest sand is spent	W
Thou maist thinke life a thing but lent	W

Ben Jonson

To Sir Robert Wroth Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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