Dedication Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BC DDEFGGHHEFIIJJKKLLMM NNOPQQRRSSHHTTGGUUHH UUVVWWXXGGYYVVHHZZDD A2A2B2ZC2C2D2D2UUE2E 2F2F2UUG2G2FRH2H2I2I 2J2J2K2K2SSL2L2M2M2C CUUN2N2GGO2O2K2K2DDP 2Q2LLMMR2R2S2S2H2H2T 2T2UUU2U2QQV2V2DDW2W 2X2X2SSJJUUI2I2Y2Y2D DI2I2Z2Z2I2I2G2G2A3A 3B3B3LLC3C3D3D3LLXXM 2M2U2U2QTo Churchill's Sermons | A |
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The manuscript of this unfinished poem was found among the few papers | B |
Churchill left behind him | C |
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Health to great Glo'ster from a man unknown | D |
Who holds thy health as dearly as his own | D |
Accept this greeting nor let modest fear | E |
Call up one maiden blush I mean not here | F |
To wound with flattery 'tis a villain's art | G |
And suits not with the frankness of my heart | G |
Truth best becomes an orthodox divine | H |
And spite of Hell that character is mine | H |
To speak e'en bitter truths I cannot fear | E |
But truth my lord is panegyric here | F |
Health to great Glo'ster nor through love of ease | I |
Which all priests love let this address displease | I |
I ask no favour not one note I crave | J |
And when this busy brain rests in the grave | J |
For till that time it never can have rest | K |
I will not trouble you with one bequest | K |
Some humbler friend my mortal journey done | L |
More near in blood a nephew or a son | L |
In that dread hour executor I'll leave | M |
For I alas have many to receive | M |
To give but little To great Glo'ster health | N |
Nor let thy true and proper love of wealth | N |
Here take a false alarm in purse though poor | O |
In spirit I'm right proud nor can endure | P |
The mention of a bribe thy pocket's free | Q |
I though a dedicator scorn a fee | Q |
Let thy own offspring all thy fortunes share | R |
I would not Allen rob nor Allen's heir | R |
Think not a thought unworthy thy great soul | S |
Which pomps of this world never could control | S |
Which never offer'd up at Power's vain shrine | H |
Think not that pomp and power can work on mine | H |
'Tis not thy name though that indeed is great | T |
'Tis not the tinsel trumpery of state | T |
'Tis not thy title Doctor though thou art | G |
'Tis not thy mitre which hath won my heart | G |
State is a farce names are but empty things | U |
Degrees are bought and by mistaken kings | U |
Titles are oft misplaced mitres which shine | H |
So bright in other eyes are dull in mine | H |
Unless set off by virtue who deceives | U |
Under the sacred sanction of lawn sleeves | U |
Enhances guilt commits a double sin | V |
So fair without and yet so foul within | V |
'Tis not thy outward form thy easy mien | W |
Thy sweet complacency thy brow serene | W |
Thy open front thy love commanding eye | X |
Where fifty Cupids as in ambush lie | X |
Which can from sixty to sixteen impart | G |
The force of Love and point his blunted dart | G |
'Tis not thy face though that by Nature's made | Y |
An index to thy soul though there display'd | Y |
We see thy mind at large and through thy skin | V |
Peeps out that courtesy which dwells within | V |
'Tis not thy birth for that is low as mine | H |
Around our heads no lineal glories shine | H |
But what is birth when to delight mankind | Z |
Heralds can make those arms they cannot find | Z |
When thou art to thyself thy sire unknown | D |
A whole Welsh genealogy alone | D |
No 'tis thy inward man thy proper worth | A2 |
Thy right just estimation here on earth | A2 |
Thy life and doctrine uniformly join'd | B2 |
And flowing from that wholesome source thy mind | Z |
Thy known contempt of Persecution's rod | C2 |
Thy charity for man thy love of God | C2 |
Thy faith in Christ so well approved 'mongst men | D2 |
Which now give life and utterance to my pen | D2 |
Thy virtue not thy rank demands my lays | U |
'Tis not the Bishop but the Saint I praise | U |
Raised by that theme I soar on wings more strong | E2 |
And burst forth into praise withheld too long | E2 |
Much did I wish e'en whilst I kept those sheep | F2 |
Which for my curse I was ordain'd to keep | F2 |
Ordain'd alas to keep through need not choice | U |
Those sheep which never heard their shepherd's voice | U |
Which did not know yet would not learn their way | G2 |
Which stray'd themselves yet grieved that I should stray | G2 |
Those sheep which my good father on his bier | F |
Let filial duty drop the pious tear | R |
Kept well yet starved himself e'en at that time | H2 |
Whilst I was pure and innocent of rhyme | H2 |
Whilst sacred Dulness ever in my view | I2 |
Sleep at my bidding crept from pew to pew | I2 |
Much did I wish though little could I hope | J2 |
A friend in him who was the friend of Pope | J2 |
His hand said I my youthful steps shall guide | K2 |
And lead me safe where thousands fall beside | K2 |
His temper his experience shall control | S |
And hush to peace the tempest of my soul | S |
His judgment teach me from the critic school | L2 |
How not to err and how to err by rule | L2 |
Instruct me mingle profit with delight | M2 |
Where Pope was wrong where Shakspeare was not right | M2 |
Where they are justly praised and where through whim | C |
How little's due to them how much to him | C |
Raised 'bove the slavery of common rules | U |
Of common sense of modern ancient schools | U |
Those feelings banish'd which mislead us all | N2 |
Fools as we are and which we Nature call | N2 |
He by his great example might impart | G |
A better something and baptize it Art | G |
He all the feelings of my youth forgot | O2 |
Might show me what is taste by what is not | O2 |
By him supported with a proper pride | K2 |
I might hold all mankind as fools beside | K2 |
He should a world perverse and peevish grown | D |
Explode his maxims and assert their own | D |
Might teach me like himself to be content | P2 |
And let their folly be their punishment | Q2 |
Might like himself teach his adopted son | L |
'Gainst all the world to quote a Warburton | L |
Fool that I was could I so much deceive | M |
My soul with lying hopes could I believe | M |
That he the servant of his Maker sworn | R2 |
The servant of his Saviour would be torn | R2 |
From their embrace and leave that dear employ | S2 |
The cure of souls his duty and his joy | S2 |
For toys like mine and waste his precious time | H2 |
On which so much depended for a rhyme | H2 |
Should he forsake the task he undertook | T2 |
Desert his flock and break his pastoral crook | T2 |
Should he forbid it Heaven so high in place | U |
So rich in knowledge quit the work of grace | U |
And idly wandering o'er the Muses' hill | U2 |
Let the salvation of mankind stand still | U2 |
Far far be that from thee yes far from thee | Q |
Be such revolt from grace and far from me | Q |
The will to think it guilt is in the thought | V2 |
Not so not so hath Warburton been taught | V2 |
Not so learn'd Christ Recall that day well known | D |
When to maintain God's honour and his own | D |
He call'd blasphemers forth methinks I now | W2 |
See stern Rebuke enthroned on his brow | W2 |
And arm'd with tenfold terrors from his tongue | X2 |
Where fiery zeal and Christian fury hung | X2 |
Methinks I hear the deep toned thunders roll | S |
And chill with horror every sinner's soul | S |
In vain they strive to fly flight cannot save | J |
And Potter trembles even in his grave | J |
With all the conscious pride of innocence | U |
Methinks I hear him in his own defence | U |
Bear witness to himself whilst all men knew | I2 |
By gospel rules his witness to be true | I2 |
O glorious man thy zeal I must commend | Y2 |
Though it deprived me of my dearest friend | Y2 |
The real motives of thy anger known | D |
Wilkes must the justice of that anger own | D |
And could thy bosom have been bared to view | I2 |
Pitied himself in turn had pitied you | I2 |
Bred to the law you wisely took the gown | Z2 |
Which I like Demas foolishly laid down | Z2 |
Hence double strength our Holy Mother drew | I2 |
Me she got rid of and made prize of you | I2 |
I like an idle truant fond of play | G2 |
Doting on toys and throwing gems away | G2 |
Grasping at shadows let the substance slip | A3 |
But you my lord renounced attorneyship | A3 |
With better purpose and more noble aim | B3 |
And wisely played a more substantial game | B3 |
Nor did Law mourn bless'd in her younger son | L |
For Mansfield does what Glo'ster would have done | L |
Doctor Dean Bishop Glo'ster and My Lord | C3 |
If haply these high titles may accord | C3 |
With thy meek spirit if the barren sound | D3 |
Of pride delights thee to the topmost round | D3 |
Of Fortune's ladder got despise not one | L |
For want of smooth hypocrisy undone | L |
Who far below turns up his wondering eye | X |
And without envy sees thee placed so high | X |
Let not thy brain as brains less potent might | M2 |
Dizzy confounded giddy with the height | M2 |
Turn round and lose distinction lose her skill | U2 |
And wonted powers of knowing good from ill | U2 |
Of sifting truth from falsehood frie | Q |
Charles Churchill
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