The Peasant Of The Alps Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBCDDCEEFGGHIIJKKJL LMLLMNNLOOL PPQRSQTTUVVULLWVVWMM XYCX

FROM THE NOVEL OF CELESTINAA
WHERE cliffs arise by winter crown'dB
And through dark groves of pine aroundB
Down the deep chasms the snow fed torrents foamC
Within some hollow shelter'd from the stormsD
The Peasant of the Alps his cottage formsD
And builds his humble happy homeC
Unenvied is the rich domainE
That far beneath him on the plainE
Waves its wide harvests and its olive grovesF
More dear to him his hut with plantain thatch'dG
Where long his unambitious heart attach'dG
Finds all he wishes all he lovesH
There dwells the mistress of his heartI
And Love who teaches every artI
Has bid him dress the spot with fondest careJ
When borrowing from the vale its fertile soilK
He climbs the precipice with patient toilK
To plant her favourite flowerets thereJ
With native shrubs a hardy raceL
There the green myrtle finds a placeL
And roses there the dewy leaves declineM
While from the crags abrupt and tangled steepsL
With bloom and fruit the Alpine berry peepsL
And blushing mingles with the vineM
His garden's simple produce storedN
Prepared for him by hands adoredN
Is all the little luxury he knowsL
And by the same dear hands are softly spreadO
The Chamois' velvet spoil that forms the bedO
Where in her arms he finds reposeL
-
But absent from the calm abodeP
Dark thunder gathers round his roadP
Wild raves the wind the arrowy lightnings flashQ
Returning quick the murmuring rocks amongR
His faint heart trembling as he winds alongS
Alarm'd he listens to the crashQ
Of rifted ice Oh man of woeT
O'er his dear cot a mass of snowT
By the storm sever'd from the cliff aboveU
Has fallen and buried in its marble breastV
All that for him lost wretch the world possestV
His home his happiness his loveU
Aghast the heart struck mourner standsL
Glazed are his eyes convulsed his handsL
O'erwhelming anguish checks his labouring breathW
Crush'd by despair's intolerable weightV
Frantic he seeks the mountain's giddiest heightV
And headlong seeks relief in deathW
A fate too similar is mineM
But I in lingering pain repineM
And still my lost felicity deploreX
Cold cold to me is that dear breast becomeY
Where this poor heart had fondly fix'd its homeC
And love and happiness are mine no moreX

Charlotte Smith



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