The Farewell Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis


P Farewell to Europe and at once farewellA
To all the follies which in Europe dwellA
To Eastern India now a richer climeB
Richer alas in everything but rhymeB
The Muses steer their course and fond of changeC
At large in other worlds desire to rangeC
Resolved at least since they the fool must playD
To do it in a different place and wayD
F What whim is this what error of the brainE
What madness worse than in the dog star's reignE
Why into foreign countries would you roamB
Are there not knaves and fools enough at homeB
If satire be thy object and thy laysF
As yet have shown no talents fit for praiseF
If satire be thy object search all roundG
Nor to thy purpose can one spot be foundG
Like England where to rampant vigour grownH
Vice chokes up every virtue where self sownH
The seeds of folly shoot forth rank and boldI
And every seed brings forth a hundredfoldI
P No more of this though Truth the more our shameB
The more our guilt though Truth perhaps may claimB
And justify her part in this yet hereJ
For the first time e'en Truth offends my earJ
Declaim from morn to night from night to mornK
Take up the theme anew when day's new bornK
I hear and hate be England what she willL
With all her faults she is my country stillL
F Thy country and what then Is that mere wordI
Against the voice of Reason to be heardI
Are prejudices deep imbibed in youthM
To counteract and make thee hate the truthM
'Tis sure the symptom of a narrow soulN
To draw its grand attachment from the wholeN
And take up with a part men not confinedI
Within such paltry limits men design'dI
Their nature to exalt where'er they goO
Wherever waves can roll and winds can blowO
Where'er the blessed sun placed in the skyP
To watch this subject world can dart his eyeP
Are still the same and prejudice outgrownH
Consider every country as their ownH
At one grand view they take in Nature's planQ
Not more at home in England than JapanQ
P My good grave Sir of Theory whose witI
Grasping at shadows ne'er caught substance yetI
'Tis mighty easy o'er a glass of wineR
On vain refinements vainly to refineR
To laugh at poverty in plenty's reignE
To boast of apathy when out of painE
And in each sentence worthy of the schoolsS
Varnish'd with sophistry to deal out rulesS
Most fit for practice but for one poor faultI
That into practice they can ne'er be broughtI
At home and sitting in your elbow chairT
You praise Japan though you was never thereT
But was the ship this moment under sailU
Would not your mind be changed your spirits failU
Would you not cast one longing eye to shoreV
And vow to deal in such wild schemes no moreV
Howe'er our pride may tempt us to concealW
Those passions which we cannot choose but feelW
There's a strange something which without a brainE
Fools feel and which e'en wise men can't explainE
Planted in man to bind him to that earthX
In dearest ties from whence he drew his birthX
If Honour calls where'er she points the wayD
The sons of Honour follow and obeyD
If need compels wherever we are sentI
'Tis want of courage not to be contentI
But if we have the liberty of choiceY
And all depends on our own single voiceY
To deem of every country as the sameB
Is rank rebellion 'gainst the lawful claimB
Of Nature and such dull indifferenceZ
May be philosophy but can't be senseA2
F Weak and unjust distinction strange designR
Most peevish most perverse to undermineR
Philosophy and throw her empire downB2
By means of Sense from whom she holds her crownB2
Divine Philosophy to thee we oweO
All that is worth possessing here belowO
Virtue and wisdom consecrate thy reignE
Doubled each joy and pain no longer painE
When like a garden where for want of toilC2
And wholesome discipline the rich rank soilC2
Teems with incumbrances where all aroundI
Herbs noxious in their nature make the groundI
Like the good mother of a thankless sonD2
Curse her own womb by fruitfulness undoneD2
Like such a garden when the human soulN
Uncultured wild impatient of controlN
Brings forth those passions of luxuriant raceE2
Which spread and stifle every herb of graceE2
Whilst Virtue check'd by the cold hand of ScornK
Seems withering on the bed where she was bornK
Philosophy steps in with steady handI
She brings her aid she clears the encumber'd landI
Too virtuous to spare Vice one stroke too wiseF2
One moment to attend to Pity's criesF2
See with what godlike what relentless powerG2
She roots up every weedI
P And every flowerG2
Philosophy a name of meek degreeH2
Embraced in token of humilityH2
By the proud sage who whilst he strove to hideI
In that vain artifice reveal'd his prideI
Philosophy whom Nature had design'dI
To purge all errors from the human mindI
Herself misled by the philosopherG2
At once her priest and master made us errT
Pride pride like leaven in a mass of flourG2
Tainted her laws and made e'en Virtue sourG2
Had she content within her proper sphereI2
Taught lessons suited to the human earJ
Which might fair Virtue's genuine fruits produceJ2
Made not for ornament but real useJ2
The heart of man unrivall'd she had sway'dI
Praised by the good and by the bad obey'dI
But when she overturning Reason's throneH
Strove proudly in its place to plant her ownH
When she with apathy the breast would steelW
And teach us deeply feeling not to feelW
When she would wildly all her force employK2
Not to correct our passions but destroyK2
When not content our nature to restoreV
As made by God she made it all new o'erG2
When with a strange and criminal excessL2
To make us more than men she made us lessL2
The good her dwindled power with pity sawM2
The bad with joy and none but fools with aweN2
Truth with a simple and unvarnish'd taleU
E'en from the mouth of Norton might prevailU
Could she get there but Falsehood's sugar'd strainE
Should pour her fatal blandishments in vainE
Nor make one convert though the Siren hungO2
Where she too often hangs on Mansfield's tongueO2
Should all the Sophs whom in his course the sunD2
Hath seen or past or present rise in oneD2
Should he whilst pleasure in each sentence flowsP2
Like Plato give us poetry in proseP2
Should he full orator at once impartI
The Athenian's genius with the Roman's artI
Genius and Art should in this instance failU
Nor Rome though join'd with Athens here prevailU
'Tis not in man 'tis not in more than manQ
To make me find one fault in Nature's planQ
Placed low ourselves we censure those aboveQ2
And wanting judgment think that she wants loveQ2
Blame where we ought in reason to commendI
And think her most a foe when most a friendI
Such be philosophers their specious artI
Though Friendship pleads shall never warp my heartI
Ne'er make me from this breast one passion tearT
Which Nature my best friend hath planted thereT
F Forgiving as a friend what whilst I liveR2
As a philosopher I can't forgiveS2
In this one point at last I join with youT2
To Nature pay all that is Nature's dueT2
But let not clouded Reason sink so lowO
To fancy debts she does not cannot oweO
Bear to full manhood grown those shackles bearT
Which Nature meant us for a time to wearT
As we wear leading strings which useless grownH
Are laid aside when we can walk aloneH
But on thyself by peevish humour sway'dI
Wilt thou lay burdens Nature never laidI
Wilt thou make faults whilst Judgment weakly errsU2
And then defend mistaking them for hersV2
Darest thou to say in our enlighten'd ageW2
That this grand master passion this brave rageW2
Which flames out for thy country was impress'dI
And fix'd by Nature in the human breastI
If you prefer the place where you were bornK
And hold all others in contempt and scornK
On fair comparison if on that landI
With liberal and a more than equal handI
Her gifts as in profusion Plenty sendsX2
If Virtue meets with more and better friendsX2
If Science finds a patron 'mongst the greatI
If Honesty is minister of stateI
If Power the guardian of our rights design'dI
Is to that great that only end cH2

Charles Churchill


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