A Proper Trewe Idyll Of Camelot Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye	A
Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a merrie May	B
Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben full of birds that syng	C
Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye waking spring	C
Ye whiles that when ye face of earth ben washed and wiped ycleane	D
Her peeping posies blink and stare like they had ben her een	D
	-
Then wit ye well ye harte of man ben turned to thoughts of love	E
And tho' it ben a lyon erst it now ben like a dove	E
And many a goodly damosel in innocence beguiles	F
Her owne trewe love with sweet discourse and divers plaisaunt wiles	F
In soche a time ye noblesse liege that ben Kyng Arthure hight	G
Let cry a joust and tournament for evereche errant knyght	G
And lo from distant Joyous garde and eche adjacent spot	G
A company of noblesse lords fared unto Camelot	G
Wherein were mighty feastings and passing merrie cheere	H
And eke a deale of dismal dole as you shall quickly heare	H
	-
It so befell upon a daye when jousts ben had and while	I
Sir Launcelot did ramp around ye ring in gallaunt style	I
There came an horseman shriking sore and rashing wildly home	J
A mediaeval horseman with ye usual flecks of foame	J
And he did brast into ye ring wherein his horse did drop	K
Upon ye which ye rider did with like abruptness stop	K
And with fatigue and fearfulness continued in a swound	G
Ye space of half an hour or more before a leech was founde	G
Now tell me straight quod Launcelot what varlet knyght you be	L
Ere that I chine you with my sworde and cleave your harte in three	L
Then rolled that knyght his bloudy een and answered with a groane	D
By worthy God that hath me made and shope ye sun and mone	D
There fareth hence an evil thing whose like ben never seene	D
And tho' he sayeth nony worde he bode the ill I ween	D
So take your parting evereche one and gird you for ye fraye	A
By all that's pure ye Divell sure doth trend his path this way	B
Ye which he quoth and fell again into a deadly swound	G
And on that spot perchance God wot his bones mought yet be founde	G
	-
Then evereche knight girt on his sworde and shield and hied him straight	G
To meet ye straunger sarasen hard by ye city gate	G
Full sorely moaned ye damosels and tore their beautyse haire	H
For that they feared an hippogriff wolde come to eate them there	H
But as they moaned and swounded there too numerous to relate	G
Kyng Arthure and Sir Launcelot stode at ye city gate	G
And at eche side and round about stode many a noblesse knyght	G
With helm and speare and sworde and shield and mickle valor dight	G
	-
Anon there came a straunger but not a gyaunt grim	J
Nor yet a draggon but a person gangling long and slim	J
Yclad he was in guise that ill beseemed those knyghtly days	F
And there ben nony etiquette in his uplandish ways	F
His raiment was of dusty gray and perched above his lugs	F
There ben the very latest style of blacke and shiny pluggs	F
His nose ben like a vulture beake his blie ben swart of hue	M
And curly ben ye whiskers through ye which ye zephyrs blewe	B
Of all ye een that ben yseene in countries far or nigh	N
None nonywhere colde hold compare unto that straunger's eye	N
It was an eye of soche a kind as never ben on sleepe	K
Nor did it gleam with kindly beame nor did not use to weepe	K
But soche an eye ye widdow hath an hongrey eye and wan	D
That spyeth for an oder chaunce whereby she may catch on	D
An eye that winketh of itself and sayeth by that winke	C
Ye which a maiden sholde not knowe nor never even thinke	C
Which winke ben more exceeding swift nor human thought ben thunk	C
And leaveth doubting if so be that winke ben really wunke	C
And soch an eye ye catte fysshe hath when that he ben on dead	G
And boyled a goodly time and served with capers on his head	G
A rayless eye a bead like eye whose famisht aspect shows	F
It hungereth for ye verdant banks whereon ye wild time grows	F
An eye that hawketh up and down for evereche kind of game	J
And when he doth espy ye which he tumbleth to ye same	J
	-
Now when he kenned Sir Launcelot in armor clad he quod	G
Another put a nickel in and see me work be god	G
But when that he was ware a man ben standing in that suit	G
Ye straunger threw up both his hands and asked him not to shoote	G
	-
Then spake Kyng Arthure If soe be you mind to do no ill	O
Come enter into Camelot and eat and drink your fill	O
But say me first what you are hight and what mought be your quest	G
Ye straunger quod I'm five feet ten and fare me from ye West	G
Sir Fivefeetten Kyng Arthure said I bid you welcome here	H
So make you merrie as you list with plaisaunt wine and cheere	H
This very night shall be a feast soche like ben never seene	D
And you shall be ye honored guest of Arthure and his queene	D
Now take him good sir Maligraunce and entertain him well	P
Until soche time as he becomes our guest as I you tell	P
	-
That night Kyng Arthure's table round with mighty care ben spread	G
Ye oder knyghts sate all about and Arthure at ye heade	G
Oh 't was a goodly spectacle to ken that noblesse liege	Q
Dispensing hospitality from his commanding siege	Q
Ye pheasant and ye meate of boare ye haunch of velvet doe	G
Ye canvass hamme he them did serve and many good things moe	G
Until at last Kyng Arthure cried Let bring my wassail cup	K
And let ye sound of joy go round I'm going to set 'em up	K
I've pipes of Malmsey May wine sack metheglon mead and sherry	H
Canary Malvoisie and Port swete Muscadelle and perry	H
Rochelle Osey and Romenay Tyre Rhenish posset too	G
With kags and pails of foaming ales of brown October brew	G
To wine and beer and other cheere I pray you now despatch ye	H
And for ensample wit ye well sweet sirs I'm looking at ye	H
	-
Unto which toast of their liege lord ye oders in ye party	H
Did lout them low in humble wise and bid ye same drink hearty	H
So then ben merrisome discourse and passing plaisaunt cheere	G
And Arthure's tales of hippogriffs ben mervaillous to heare	G
But stranger far than any tale told of those knyghts of old	G
Ben those facetious narratives ye Western straunger told	G
He told them of a country many leagues beyond ye sea	H
Where evereche forraine nuisance but ye Chinese man ben free	H
And whiles he span his monstrous yarns ye ladies of ye court	G
Did deem ye listening thereunto to be right plaisaunt sport	G
And whiles they listened often he did squeeze a lily hande	G
Ye which proceeding ne'er before ben done in Arthure's lande	G
And often wank a sidelong wink with either roving eye	N
Whereat ye ladies laughen so that they had like to die	N
But of ye damosels that sat around Kyng Arthure's table	R
He liked not her that sometime ben ron over by ye cable	R
Ye which full evil hap had harmed and marked her person so	G
That in a passing wittie jest he dubbeth her ye crow	G
	-
But all ye oders of ye girls did please him passing well	P
And they did own him for to be a proper seeming swell	P
And in especial Guinevere esteemed him wondrous faire	G
Which had made Arthure and his friend Sir Launcelot to sware	G
But that they both ben so far gone with posset wine and beer	G
They colde not see ye carrying on nor neither colde not heare	G
For of eche liquor Arthure quafft and so did all ye rest	G
Save only and excepting that smooth straunger from the West	G
When as these oders drank a toast he let them have their fun	D
With divers godless mixings but he stock to willow run	D
Ye which and all that reade these words sholde profit by ye warning	C
Doth never make ye head to feel like it ben swelled next morning	C
Now wit ye well it so befell that when the night grew dim	J
Ye Kyng was carried from ye hall with a howling jag on him	J
Whiles Launcelot and all ye rest that to his highness toadied	G
Withdrew them from ye banquet hall and sought their couches loaded	G
	-
Now lithe and listen lordings all whiles I do call it shame	J
That making cheer with wine and beer men do abuse ye same	J
Though eche be well enow alone ye mixing of ye two	G
Ben soche a piece of foolishness as only ejiots do	G
Ye wine is plaisaunt bibbing whenas ye gentles dine	D
And beer will do if one hath not ye wherewithal for wine	D
But in ye drinking of ye same ye wise are never floored	G
By taking what ye tipplers call too big a jag on board	G
Right hejeous is it for to see soche dronkonness of wine	D
Whereby some men are used to make themselves to be like swine	D
And sorely it repenteth them for when they wake next day	G
Ye fearful paynes they suffer ben soche as none mought say	G
And soche ye brenning in ye throat and brasting of ye head	G
And soche ye taste within ye mouth like one had been on dead Soche	S
be ye foul conditions that these unhappy men	D
Sware they will never drink no drop of nony drinke again	D
Yet all so frail and vain a thing and weak withal is man	D
That he goeth on an oder tear whenever that he can	D
And like ye evil quatern or ye hills that skirt ye skies	F
Ye jag is reproductive and jags on jags arise	F
	-
Whenas Aurora from ye east in dewy splendor hied	G
King Arthure dreemed he saw a snaix and ben on fire inside	G
And waking from this hejeous dreeme he sate him up in bed	G
What ho an absynthe cocktail knave and make it strong he said	G
Then looking down beside him lo his lady was not there	G
He called he searched but Goddis wounds he found her nonywhere	G
And whiles he searched Sir Maligraunce rashed in wood wroth and cried	G
Methinketh that ye straunger knyght hath snuck away my bride	G
And whiles he spake a motley score of other knyghts brast in	D
And filled ye royall chamber with a mickle fearfull din	D
For evereche one had lost his wiffe nor colde not spye ye same	J
Nor colde not spye ye straunger knyght Sir Fivefeetten of name	J
	-
Oh then and there was grevious lamentation all arounde	G
For nony dame nor damosel in Camelot ben found	G
Gone like ye forest leaves that speed afore ye autumn wind	G
Of all ye ladies of that court not one ben left behind	G
Save only that same damosel ye straunger called ye crow	G
And she allowed with moche regret she ben too lame to go	G
And when that she had wept full sore to Arthure she confess'd	G
That Guinevere had left this word for Arthure and ye rest	G
Tell them she quod we shall return to them whenas we've made	G
This little deal we have with ye Chicago Bourde of Trade	G

Eugene Field

A Proper Trewe Idyll Of Camelot Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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