Dedication To Churchill's Sermons. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDEEBCFFGGHHIIJJ KKLMNNOOPPEEQQDDRREE RRSSTTUUDDVVSSEEWWAA XXYWZZA2A2RRB2B2C2C2 RRD2D2COE2E2F2F2G2G2 H2H2PPI2I2J2J2K2K2RR L2L2DDM2M2H2H2AAN2O2 IIJJP2P2Q2Q2E2E2R2R2 RRS2S2NNT2T2AAU2U2V2 V2PPGGRRF2F2W2W2AAF2 F2X2X2F2F2D2D2Y2Y2Z2 Z2IIA3A3B3B3IIUUJ2J2 S2S2RRQQUUHealth to great Glo'ster from a man unknown | A |
Who holds thy health as dearly as his own | A |
Accept this greeting nor let modest fear | B |
Call up one maiden blush I mean not here | C |
To wound with flattery 'tis a villain's art | D |
And suits not with the frankness of my heart | D |
Truth best becomes an orthodox divine | E |
And spite of Hell that character is mine | E |
To speak e'en bitter truths I cannot fear | B |
But truth my lord is panegyric here | C |
Health to great Glo'ster nor through love of ease | F |
Which all priests love let this address displease | F |
I ask no favour not one note I crave | G |
And when this busy brain rests in the grave | G |
For till that time it never can have rest | H |
I will not trouble you with one bequest | H |
Some humbler friend my mortal journey done | I |
More near in blood a nephew or a son | I |
In that dread hour executor I'll leave | J |
For I alas have many to receive | J |
To give but little To great Glo'ster health | K |
Nor let thy true and proper love of wealth | K |
Here take a false alarm in purse though poor | L |
In spirit I'm right proud nor can endure | M |
The mention of a bribe thy pocket's free | N |
I though a dedicator scorn a fee | N |
Let thy own offspring all thy fortunes share | O |
I would not Allen rob nor Allen's heir | O |
Think not a thought unworthy thy great soul | P |
Which pomps of this world never could control | P |
Which never offer'd up at Power's vain shrine | E |
Think not that pomp and power can work on mine | E |
'Tis not thy name though that indeed is great | Q |
'Tis not the tinsel trumpery of state | Q |
'Tis not thy title Doctor though thou art | D |
'Tis not thy mitre which hath won my heart | D |
State is a farce names are but empty things | R |
Degrees are bought and by mistaken kings | R |
Titles are oft misplaced mitres which shine | E |
So bright in other eyes are dull in mine | E |
Unless set off by virtue who deceives | R |
Under the sacred sanction of lawn sleeves | R |
Enhances guilt commits a double sin | S |
So fair without and yet so foul within | S |
'Tis not thy outward form thy easy mien | T |
Thy sweet complacency thy brow serene | T |
Thy open front thy love commanding eye | U |
Where fifty Cupids as in ambush lie | U |
Which can from sixty to sixteen impart | D |
The force of Love and point his blunted dart | D |
'Tis not thy face though that by Nature's made | V |
An index to thy soul though there display'd | V |
We see thy mind at large and through thy skin | S |
Peeps out that courtesy which dwells within | S |
'Tis not thy birth for that is low as mine | E |
Around our heads no lineal glories shine | E |
But what is birth when to delight mankind | W |
Heralds can make those arms they cannot find | W |
When thou art to thyself thy sire unknown | A |
A whole Welsh genealogy alone | A |
No 'tis thy inward man thy proper worth | X |
Thy right just estimation here on earth | X |
Thy life and doctrine uniformly join'd | Y |
And flowing from that wholesome source thy mind | W |
Thy known contempt of Persecution's rod | Z |
Thy charity for man thy love of God | Z |
Thy faith in Christ so well approved 'mongst men | A2 |
Which now give life and utterance to my pen | A2 |
Thy virtue not thy rank demands my lays | R |
'Tis not the Bishop but the Saint I praise | R |
Raised by that theme I soar on wings more strong | B2 |
And burst forth into praise withheld too long | B2 |
Much did I wish e'en whilst I kept those sheep | C2 |
Which for my curse I was ordain'd to keep | C2 |
Ordain'd alas to keep through need not choice | R |
Those sheep which never heard their shepherd's voice | R |
Which did not know yet would not learn their way | D2 |
Which stray'd themselves yet grieved that I should stray | D2 |
Those sheep which my good father on his bier | C |
Let filial duty drop the pious tear | O |
Kept well yet starved himself e'en at that time | E2 |
Whilst I was pure and innocent of rhyme | E2 |
Whilst sacred Dulness ever in my view | F2 |
Sleep at my bidding crept from pew to pew | F2 |
Much did I wish though little could I hope | G2 |
A friend in him who was the friend of Pope | G2 |
His hand said I my youthful steps shall guide | H2 |
And lead me safe where thousands fall beside | H2 |
His temper his experience shall control | P |
And hush to peace the tempest of my soul | P |
His judgment teach me from the critic school | I2 |
How not to err and how to err by rule | I2 |
Instruct me mingle profit with delight | J2 |
Where Pope was wrong where Shakspeare was not right | J2 |
Where they are justly praised and where through whim | K2 |
How little's due to them how much to him | K2 |
Raised 'bove the slavery of common rules | R |
Of common sense of modern ancient schools | R |
Those feelings banish'd which mislead us all | L2 |
Fools as we are and which we Nature call | L2 |
He by his great example might impart | D |
A better something and baptize it Art | D |
He all the feelings of my youth forgot | M2 |
Might show me what is taste by what is not | M2 |
By him supported with a proper pride | H2 |
I might hold all mankind as fools beside | H2 |
He should a world perverse and peevish grown | A |
Explode his maxims and assert their own | A |
Might teach me like himself to be content | N2 |
And let their folly be their punishment | O2 |
Might like himself teach his adopted son | I |
'Gainst all the world to quote a Warburton | I |
Fool that I was could I so much deceive | J |
My soul with lying hopes could I believe | J |
That he the servant of his Maker sworn | P2 |
The servant of his Saviour would be torn | P2 |
From their embrace and leave that dear employ | Q2 |
The cure of souls his duty and his joy | Q2 |
For toys like mine and waste his precious time | E2 |
On which so much depended for a rhyme | E2 |
Should he forsake the task he undertook | R2 |
Desert his flock and break his pastoral crook | R2 |
Should he forbid it Heaven so high in place | R |
So rich in knowledge quit the work of grace | R |
And idly wandering o'er the Muses' hill | S2 |
Let the salvation of mankind stand still | S2 |
Far far be that from thee yes far from thee | N |
Be such revolt from grace and far from me | N |
The will to think it guilt is in the thought | T2 |
Not so not so hath Warburton been taught | T2 |
Not so learn'd Christ Recall that day well known | A |
When to maintain God's honour and his own | A |
He call'd blasphemers forth methinks I now | U2 |
See stern Rebuke enthroned on his brow | U2 |
And arm'd with tenfold terrors from his tongue | V2 |
Where fiery zeal and Christian fury hung | V2 |
Methinks I hear the deep toned thunders roll | P |
And chill with horror every sinner's soul | P |
In vain they strive to fly flight cannot save | G |
And Potter trembles even in his grave | G |
With all the conscious pride of innocence | R |
Methinks I hear him in his own defence | R |
Bear witness to himself whilst all men knew | F2 |
By gospel rules his witness to be true | F2 |
O glorious man thy zeal I must commend | W2 |
Though it deprived me of my dearest friend | W2 |
The real motives of thy anger known | A |
Wilkes must the justice of that anger own | A |
And could thy bosom have been bared to view | F2 |
Pitied himself in turn had pitied you | F2 |
Bred to the law you wisely took the gown | X2 |
Which I like Demas foolishly laid down | X2 |
Hence double strength our Holy Mother drew | F2 |
Me she got rid of and made prize of you | F2 |
I like an idle truant fond of play | D2 |
Doting on toys and throwing gems away | D2 |
Grasping at shadows let the substance slip | Y2 |
But you my lord renounced attorneyship | Y2 |
With better purpose and more noble aim | Z2 |
And wisely played a more substantial game | Z2 |
Nor did Law mourn bless'd in her younger son | I |
For Mansfield does what Glo'ster would have done | I |
Doctor Dean Bishop Glo'ster and My Lord | A3 |
If haply these high titles may accord | A3 |
With thy meek spirit if the barren sound | B3 |
Of pride delights thee to the topmost round | B3 |
Of Fortune's ladder got despise not one | I |
For want of smooth hypocrisy undone | I |
Who far below turns up his wondering eye | U |
And without envy sees thee placed so high | U |
Let not thy brain as brains less potent might | J2 |
Dizzy confounded giddy with the height | J2 |
Turn round and lose distinction lose her skill | S2 |
And wonted powers of knowing good from ill | S2 |
Of sifting truth from falsehood friends from foes | R |
Let Glo'ster well remember how he rose | R |
Nor turn his back on men who made him great | Q |
Let him not gorged with power and drunk with state | Q |
Forget what once he was though now so high | U |
How low how mean and full as poor as I | U |
Charles Churchill
(1)
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