The Shepheardes Calender: September Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Edmund Spenser

The Shepheardes Calender: September Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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September gloga Nona Hobbinol Diggon Dauie	A
	-
Hobbinol	B
Diggon Dauie I bidde her god day	A
Or Diggon her is or I missaye	C
	-
Diggon	D
Her was her while it was daye light	A
But nowe her is a most wretched wight	A
For day that was is wightly past	A
And now at earst the dirke night doth hast	A
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Diggon areede who has thee so dight	A
Neuer I wist thee in so poor a plight	A
Where is the fayre flocke thou was wont to leade	A
Or bene they chaffred or at mischiefe dead	A
	-
Diggon	D
Ah for loue of that is to thee moste leefe	E
Hobbinol I pray thee gall not my old griefe	E
Sike question ripeth vp cause of newe woe	F
For one opened mote vnfolde many moe	F
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Nay but sorrow close shrouded in hart	A
I know to kepe is a burdenous smart	A
Eche thing imparted is more eath to beare	G
When the rayne is faln the cloudes wexen cleare	G
And nowe sithence I sawe thy head last	A
Thrise three Moones bene fully spent and past	A
Since when thou hast measured much grownd	A
And wandred I wene about the world rounde	A
So as thou can many thinges relate	A
But tell me first of thy flocks astate	A
	-
Diggon	D
My sheepe bene wasted wae is me therefore	G
The iolly shepheard that was of yore	G
Is nowe nor iolloye nor shepehearde more	G
In forrein costes men sayd was plentye	C
And so there is but all of miserye	C
I dempt there much to haue eeked my store	G
But such eeking hath made my hart sore	G
In tho countryes whereas I haue bene	D
No being for those that truely mene	D
But for such as of guile maken gayne	D
No such countrye as there to remaine	D
They setten to sale their shops of shame	H
And maken a Mart of theyr good name	H
The shepheards there robben one another	G
And layen baytes to beguile her brother	G
Or they will buy his sheepe out of the cote	A
Or they will caruen the shepheards throte	A
The shepheards swayne you cannot wel ken	D
But it be by his pryde from other men	D
They looken bigge as Bulls that bene bate	A
And bearen the cragge so stiffe and so state	A
As cocke on his dunghill crowing cranck	I
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Diggon I am so stiffe and so stanck	I
That vneth may I stand any more	G
And nowe the Westerne wind bloweth sore	G
That nowe is in his chiefe souereigntee	A
Beating the withered leafe from the tree	G
Sitte we downe here under the hill	B
Tho may we talke and tellen our fill	B
And make a mocke at the blustring blast	A
Now say on Diggon what euer thou hast	A
	-
Diggon	D
Hobbin ah hobbin I curse the stounde	A
That euer I cast to haue lorne this grounde	A
Wel away the while I was so fonde	A
To leaue the good that I had in honde	A
In hope of better that was vncouth	J
So lost the Dogge the flesh in his mouth	J
My seely sheepe ah seely sheepe	K
That here by there I whilome vsed to keepe	K
All were they lustye as thou didst see	G
Bene all sterued with pyne and penuree	G
Hardly my selfe escaped thilke payne	D
Driuen for neede to come home agayne	D
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Ah fon now by thy losse art taught	A
That seeldome chaunge the better brought	A
Content who liues with tryed state	A
Neede feare no chaunge of frowning fate	A
But who will seeke for vnknowne gayne	D
Oft liues by losse and leaues with payne	D
	-
Diggon	D
I wote ne Hobbin how I was bewitcht	A
With vayne desyre and hope to be enricht	A
But sicker so it is as the bright starre	G
Seemeth ay greater when it is farre	G
I thought the soyle would haue made me rich	L
But nowe I wote it is nothing sich	L
For eyther the shepeheards bene ydle and still	B
And ledde of theyr sheepe what way they wyll	B
Or they bene false and full of couetise	G
And casten to compasse many wrong emprise	G
But the more bene fraught with fraud and spight	A
Ne in good nor goodnes taken delight	A
But kindle coales of conteck and yre	G
Wherewith they sette all the world on fire	G
Which when they thinken agayne to quench	L
With holy water they doen hem all drench	L
They saye they con to heauen the high way	A
But by my soule I dare vndersaye	C
Thye neuer sette foote in that same troade	A
But balk the right way and strayen abroad	A
They boast they han the deuill at commaund	A
But aske hem therefore what they han paund	A
Marrie that great Pan bought with deare borrow	G
To quite it from the blacke bowre of sorrowe	A
But they han sold thilk same long agoe	I
For thy woulden drawe with hem many moe	G
But let hem gange alone a Gods name	H
As they han brewed so let hem beare blame	H
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Diggon I praye the speake not so dirke	I
Such myster saying me seemeth to mirke	I
	-
Diggon	D
Then playnely to speake of shepheards most what	A
Badde is the best this english is flatt	A
Their ill hauiour garres men missay	G
Both of their doctrine and of their faye	C
They sayne the world is much war then it wont	A
All for her shepheards bene beastly and blont	A
Other sayne but how truely I note	A
All for they holden shame of theyr cote	A
Some sticke not to say whote cole on her tongue	I
That sike mischeife graseth hem emong	I
All for the casten too much of worlds care	G
To deck her Dame and enrich her heyre	G
For such encheason If you goe nye	C
Fewe chymneis reeking you shall espye	C
The fat Oxe that wont ligge in the stal	B
Is nowe fast stalled in her crumenall	B
Thus chatten the people in theyr steads	G
Ylike as a Monster of many heads	G
But they that shooten neerest the pricke	I
Sayne other the fat from their beards doen lick	I
For bigge Bulles of Basanbrace hem about	A
That with theyr hornes butten the more stoute	A
But the leane soules treaden vnder foote	A
And to seeke redresse mought little boote	A
For liker bene they to pluck away more	G
Then ought of the gotten good to restore	G
For they bene like foule wagmoires ouergrast	A
That if thy galage once sticketh fast	A
The more to wind it out thou doest swinck	I
Thou mought ay deeper and deeper sinck	I
Yet better leaue of with a little losse	G
Then by much wrestling to leese the grosse	G
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Nowe Diggon I see thou speakest to plaine	D
Better it were a little to feyne	D
And cleanly couer that cannot be cured	A
Such il as is forced mought nedes be endured	A
But of sike pastoures howe done the flocks creepe	K
	-
Diggon	D
Sike as the shepheards sike bene her sheepe	K
For they nill listen to the shepheards voyce	G
But if he call hem at theyr good choyce	G
They wander at wil and stray at pleasure	G
And to theyr foldes yeeld at their owne leasure	G
But they had be better come at their cal	B
for many han into mischiefe fall	B
And bene of rauenous Wolues yrent	A
All for they nould be buxome and bent	A
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Fye on thee Diggon and all thy foule leasing	I
Well is knowne that sith the Saxon king	I
Neuer was Woolfe seene many nor some	M
Nor in all Kent nor in Christendome	M
But the fewer Woolues the soth to sayne	D
The more bene the Foxes that here remaine	D
	-
Diggon	D
Yes but they gang in more secrete wise	G
And with sheepes clothing doen hem disguise	G
They walke not widely as they were wont	A
For feare of raungers and the great hunt	A
But priuely prolling too and froe	G
Enaunter they mought be inly knowe	A
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Or priue or pert yf any bene	D
We han great Bandogs will tear their skinne	D
	-
Diggon	D
Indeede thy ball is a bold bigge curre	G
And could make a iolly hole in theyr furre	G
But not good Dogges hem needeth to chace	G
But heedy shepheards to discerne their face	G
For all their craft is in their countenaunce	G
They bene so graue and full of mayntenaunce	G
But shall I tell thee what my selfe knowe	A
Chaunced to Roffynn not long ygoe	I
	-
Hobbinoll	B
Say it out Diggon what euer it hight	A
For not but well mought him betight	A
He is so meeke wise and merciable	B
And with his word his worke is conuenable	B
Colin clout I wene be his selfe boye	C
Ah for Colin he whilome my ioye	C
Shepheards sich God mought vs many send	A
That doen so	G