Dedication Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BC DDEFGGHHEFIIJJKKLLMM NNOPQQRRSSHHTTGGUUHH UUVVWWXXGGYYVVHHZZDD A2A2B2ZC2C2D2D2UUE2E 2F2F2UUG2G2FRH2H2I2I 2J2J2K2K2SSL2L2M2M2C CUUN2N2GGO2O2K2K2DDP 2Q2LLMMR2R2S2S2H2H2T 2T2UUU2U2QQV2V2DDW2W 2X2X2SSJJUUI2I2Y2Y2D DI2I2Z2Z2I2I2G2G2A3A 3B3B3LLC3C3D3D3LLXXM 2M2U2U2Q

To Churchill's SermonsA
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The manuscript of this unfinished poem was found among the few papersB
Churchill left behind himC
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Health to great Glo'ster from a man unknownD
Who holds thy health as dearly as his ownD
Accept this greeting nor let modest fearE
Call up one maiden blush I mean not hereF
To wound with flattery 'tis a villain's artG
And suits not with the frankness of my heartG
Truth best becomes an orthodox divineH
And spite of Hell that character is mineH
To speak e'en bitter truths I cannot fearE
But truth my lord is panegyric hereF
Health to great Glo'ster nor through love of easeI
Which all priests love let this address displeaseI
I ask no favour not one note I craveJ
And when this busy brain rests in the graveJ
For till that time it never can have restK
I will not trouble you with one bequestK
Some humbler friend my mortal journey doneL
More near in blood a nephew or a sonL
In that dread hour executor I'll leaveM
For I alas have many to receiveM
To give but little To great Glo'ster healthN
Nor let thy true and proper love of wealthN
Here take a false alarm in purse though poorO
In spirit I'm right proud nor can endureP
The mention of a bribe thy pocket's freeQ
I though a dedicator scorn a feeQ
Let thy own offspring all thy fortunes shareR
I would not Allen rob nor Allen's heirR
Think not a thought unworthy thy great soulS
Which pomps of this world never could controlS
Which never offer'd up at Power's vain shrineH
Think not that pomp and power can work on mineH
'Tis not thy name though that indeed is greatT
'Tis not the tinsel trumpery of stateT
'Tis not thy title Doctor though thou artG
'Tis not thy mitre which hath won my heartG
State is a farce names are but empty thingsU
Degrees are bought and by mistaken kingsU
Titles are oft misplaced mitres which shineH
So bright in other eyes are dull in mineH
Unless set off by virtue who deceivesU
Under the sacred sanction of lawn sleevesU
Enhances guilt commits a double sinV
So fair without and yet so foul withinV
'Tis not thy outward form thy easy mienW
Thy sweet complacency thy brow sereneW
Thy open front thy love commanding eyeX
Where fifty Cupids as in ambush lieX
Which can from sixty to sixteen impartG
The force of Love and point his blunted dartG
'Tis not thy face though that by Nature's madeY
An index to thy soul though there display'dY
We see thy mind at large and through thy skinV
Peeps out that courtesy which dwells withinV
'Tis not thy birth for that is low as mineH
Around our heads no lineal glories shineH
But what is birth when to delight mankindZ
Heralds can make those arms they cannot findZ
When thou art to thyself thy sire unknownD
A whole Welsh genealogy aloneD
No 'tis thy inward man thy proper worthA2
Thy right just estimation here on earthA2
Thy life and doctrine uniformly join'dB2
And flowing from that wholesome source thy mindZ
Thy known contempt of Persecution's rodC2
Thy charity for man thy love of GodC2
Thy faith in Christ so well approved 'mongst menD2
Which now give life and utterance to my penD2
Thy virtue not thy rank demands my laysU
'Tis not the Bishop but the Saint I praiseU
Raised by that theme I soar on wings more strongE2
And burst forth into praise withheld too longE2
Much did I wish e'en whilst I kept those sheepF2
Which for my curse I was ordain'd to keepF2
Ordain'd alas to keep through need not choiceU
Those sheep which never heard their shepherd's voiceU
Which did not know yet would not learn their wayG2
Which stray'd themselves yet grieved that I should strayG2
Those sheep which my good father on his bierF
Let filial duty drop the pious tearR
Kept well yet starved himself e'en at that timeH2
Whilst I was pure and innocent of rhymeH2
Whilst sacred Dulness ever in my viewI2
Sleep at my bidding crept from pew to pewI2
Much did I wish though little could I hopeJ2
A friend in him who was the friend of PopeJ2
His hand said I my youthful steps shall guideK2
And lead me safe where thousands fall besideK2
His temper his experience shall controlS
And hush to peace the tempest of my soulS
His judgment teach me from the critic schoolL2
How not to err and how to err by ruleL2
Instruct me mingle profit with delightM2
Where Pope was wrong where Shakspeare was not rightM2
Where they are justly praised and where through whimC
How little's due to them how much to himC
Raised 'bove the slavery of common rulesU
Of common sense of modern ancient schoolsU
Those feelings banish'd which mislead us allN2
Fools as we are and which we Nature callN2
He by his great example might impartG
A better something and baptize it ArtG
He all the feelings of my youth forgotO2
Might show me what is taste by what is notO2
By him supported with a proper prideK2
I might hold all mankind as fools besideK2
He should a world perverse and peevish grownD
Explode his maxims and assert their ownD
Might teach me like himself to be contentP2
And let their folly be their punishmentQ2
Might like himself teach his adopted sonL
'Gainst all the world to quote a WarburtonL
Fool that I was could I so much deceiveM
My soul with lying hopes could I believeM
That he the servant of his Maker swornR2
The servant of his Saviour would be tornR2
From their embrace and leave that dear employS2
The cure of souls his duty and his joyS2
For toys like mine and waste his precious timeH2
On which so much depended for a rhymeH2
Should he forsake the task he undertookT2
Desert his flock and break his pastoral crookT2
Should he forbid it Heaven so high in placeU
So rich in knowledge quit the work of graceU
And idly wandering o'er the Muses' hillU2
Let the salvation of mankind stand stillU2
Far far be that from thee yes far from theeQ
Be such revolt from grace and far from meQ
The will to think it guilt is in the thoughtV2
Not so not so hath Warburton been taughtV2
Not so learn'd Christ Recall that day well knownD
When to maintain God's honour and his ownD
He call'd blasphemers forth methinks I nowW2
See stern Rebuke enthroned on his browW2
And arm'd with tenfold terrors from his tongueX2
Where fiery zeal and Christian fury hungX2
Methinks I hear the deep toned thunders rollS
And chill with horror every sinner's soulS
In vain they strive to fly flight cannot saveJ
And Potter trembles even in his graveJ
With all the conscious pride of innocenceU
Methinks I hear him in his own defenceU
Bear witness to himself whilst all men knewI2
By gospel rules his witness to be trueI2
O glorious man thy zeal I must commendY2
Though it deprived me of my dearest friendY2
The real motives of thy anger knownD
Wilkes must the justice of that anger ownD
And could thy bosom have been bared to viewI2
Pitied himself in turn had pitied youI2
Bred to the law you wisely took the gownZ2
Which I like Demas foolishly laid downZ2
Hence double strength our Holy Mother drewI2
Me she got rid of and made prize of youI2
I like an idle truant fond of playG2
Doting on toys and throwing gems awayG2
Grasping at shadows let the substance slipA3
But you my lord renounced attorneyshipA3
With better purpose and more noble aimB3
And wisely played a more substantial gameB3
Nor did Law mourn bless'd in her younger sonL
For Mansfield does what Glo'ster would have doneL
Doctor Dean Bishop Glo'ster and My LordC3
If haply these high titles may accordC3
With thy meek spirit if the barren soundD3
Of pride delights thee to the topmost roundD3
Of Fortune's ladder got despise not oneL
For want of smooth hypocrisy undoneL
Who far below turns up his wondering eyeX
And without envy sees thee placed so highX
Let not thy brain as brains less potent mightM2
Dizzy confounded giddy with the heightM2
Turn round and lose distinction lose her skillU2
And wonted powers of knowing good from illU2
Of sifting truth from falsehood frieQ

Charles Churchill



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