Burns Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACD EFGGHHIIII JKLLMMNNOO IIHHDDPQFFRRSS TTUUUVVII WWUUXYYMMPQVVZZA2A2B 2B2 IIC2C2IIIID2D2 YYYYYYY SSQQIIYYE2E2YYF2G2H2 H2JKC2C2 YYD2D2II YYIII2I2YYYY C2C2YYIIC2C2D2D2II IIYYYYYIIYYYYMY OWN WILD BURNS these rude wrought rhymes of thine | A |
In golden worth are like the unshapely coin | B |
Of some new realm yet pure as from the mine | A |
And Art may well be spared with such alloy | C |
As dims the bullion to improve the die | D |
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I love the truths of Art but more indeed | E |
The simplest truths of Nature and I read | F |
To find her visibly enthroned on all | G |
His muse hath builded like a fiery wall | G |
Round national faith and patriotic pride | H |
And Love and Valour both at Beauty s side | H |
Yea more his outward rudeness doth impress | I |
Upon me still his innate strengthiness | I |
Even as imperfect features oft enhance | I |
Th intrinsic power of some fine countenance | I |
- | |
How various too the spirit of his lyre | J |
How many hued his soul s poetic fire | K |
In his one Muse such qualities we find | L |
Mingled as most are several in their kind | L |
Mirth like a billow brightening up before | M |
The blasts of Grief to die on Misery s shore | M |
Humour and Scorn and Pathos with a reach | N |
Above all effort each exalting each | N |
Yea Terror wedding its own sense of evil | O |
To mother Pity even for the Devil | O |
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But best he moves to tears or wakes such sighs | I |
As fan the vital fire in Beauty s lustrous eyes | I |
Hark when the winding Nith the Afton Clyde | H |
Rave downward or in gleaming quiet glide | H |
How Passion s very soul keeps burning by | D |
In his wild verse from every covert nigh | D |
Or by the bonnie Doon or gurgling Ayr | P |
What heart sweet memories like perfumes there | Q |
Re breathe of bloomy joys untimely shed | F |
And Love that followed the belov ed dead | F |
To Heaven and then while Pity weeps aloud | R |
Clad in the pale ideal of a shroud | R |
Who would exchange the luxury of her woe | S |
For all the pleasures that the heartless know | S |
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But should we need relief another page | T |
Shall blow the trumpet of his warlike rage | T |
And vilest of the villain herd is he | U |
Who to his battle dirge can listener be | U |
Nor feel that he could die for Liberty | U |
Or who while volleys forth the charging lay | V |
Revoicing Bannockburn s all glorious day | V |
From his exalted manhood then not spurns | I |
Whate er is traitorous with a shout for Burns | I |
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And now in thought I track with steps of fear | W |
The noble peasant in his wild career | W |
The haven of his youth is left the sea | U |
Of Life is loudening all around and she | U |
Who mid its perilous breakers might have stood | X |
His first sweet love she is not Heaven looks bright | Y |
Still and the hills laugh round him for delight | Y |
But ah beneath the sun he finds no more | M |
The Eden where his genius dwelt before | M |
And does he wander by his native Ayr | P |
The spirit of gladness hath gone up even there | Q |
Up like the blithe notes of the lark when they | V |
Have faded heavenward utterly away | V |
The more he mixes with his kind in mirth | Z |
The more he feels the homelessness of earth | Z |
Till Life s lost charm seems beckoning him afar | A2 |
In the white beauty of each lovely star | A2 |
She is not only sweeter is the tone | B2 |
Of his wild lyre for the wild loss thus known | B2 |
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But storying thus with love his native streams | I |
Thus by the life of his poetic dreams | I |
Breathing suggestions that exalt and thrill | C2 |
Into the spirit of each warrior hill | C2 |
Yea lighting Scotia s universal face | I |
With mental beauty and affectionate grace | I |
Yet did he die the victim of excess | I |
Alas even Poesy by her mute distress | I |
Admits the blot nor could she save her son | D2 |
Her star bright Rob her love anointed one | D2 |
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Whilst yet the bard by Fortune unsubdued | Y |
Had only like a wild bird of the wood | Y |
Sung his own simple joys then happy being good | Y |
Ere he had sounded the world s heart and spurned | Y |
The soulless tone its hollowness returned | Y |
His habitudes how temperate we find | Y |
From a self pleasing tunefulness of mind | Y |
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But afterwards that such a being so | S |
Alive to joy and sensitive to woe | S |
With all in sympathy of rich and rare | Q |
Flushing his soul as in the evening air | Q |
A western cloud grows grateful to the sense | I |
With all the sun s unspeakable affluence | I |
Of golden glory mightily endowed | Y |
By genius too with motives nobly proud | Y |
And full summ d wings of spiritual flame | E2 |
Wherewith to mount against the burning eye of Fame | E2 |
Yet bounded in a nutshell or but wooed | Y |
By Fortune from a barren solitude | Y |
Just to be stared at by her minions vain | F2 |
A sort of mental monster newly ta en | G2 |
That such a being should resort at length | H2 |
To whatsoever might repair the strength | H2 |
Of ruined Joy a moment or inspire | J |
The heart of dying Hope though with fallacious fire | K |
Was I believe howe er the truth appal | C2 |
Almost inevitably natural | C2 |
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Ah Scotia it behoved thee then to guard | Y |
The worldly welfare of thy peasant bard | Y |
But no thou wouldst not and thy gifted son | D2 |
So placed again the like career should run | D2 |
Again be naked left to Fortune s slurs | I |
A hound like spirit in a land of curs | I |
- | |
But ah if such may always be the fate | Y |
Of Genius native to a low estate | Y |
For mercy s sake nay for the sake of Burns | I |
Whose spirit methinks tow rds each poor brother yearns | I |
Away the mask of kindred let us fling | I2 |
At once and brand it as an outcast thing | I2 |
Above communion with the rude by mind | Y |
Exalted and yet shunned by the refined | Y |
Yea let this warning in its face be hurl d | Y |
As the collective verdict of the world | Y |
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Enrich the age with beauty if you will | C2 |
But you must do so at your peril still | C2 |
The sole reward s a life long lack of bread | Y |
And lastly a most desolate death bed | Y |
And then some century after when the loss | I |
And agony of Genius on the cross | I |
Of Passion shall have spread into a tale | C2 |
Wherewith to spice the tavern lounger s ale | C2 |
Then shall your lowly grave long grass o ergrown | D2 |
Become a national sentiment in stone | D2 |
Yes then a costly monument shall grace | I |
And guard it in the land a sacred place | I |
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Oh must not Scorn have reeled with laughter yes | I |
Even until shocked at her own bitterness | I |
To see by Scotland such a work up piled | Y |
In honour of its so neglected child | Y |
Of grace and glory beautifully wild | Y |
But there it stands a type at least to me | Y |
Of intellectual hypocrisy | Y |
Sad Poesy beholding from it turns | I |
And murmurs What a monument to Burns | I |
No tis a sordid scoff perpetual made | Y |
A final insult to his injured Shade | Y |
The thankless country that denied him bread | Y |
Now gives this stone for he is safely dead | Y |
Charles Harpur
(1)
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