New Morality Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AAAABBAACCDDAA EEFFGGHHII JKLL EECIAA DDIIMMII NNAAOOIIPPAA NNIIQQIIRRAAIIII AAIIAASSAA TNLLAAII AAIIIIII SSII NNIIUUVVWWXXQQ FFXXIIIIKKYYUUZZXXXD DA2B2NN C2C2KKIILLRRD2D2IIII II FFIIAAAAAA AAE2IIIN

From mental mists to purge a nation's eyesA
To animate the weak unite the wiseA
To trace the deep infection that prevadesA
The crowded town and taints the rural shadesA
To mark how wide extends the mighty wasteB
O'er the fair realms of Science Learning TasteB
To drive and scatter all the brood of liesA
And chase the varying falsehood as it fliesA
The long arrears of ridicule to payC
To drag reluctant Dulness back to dayC
Much yet remains To you these themes belongD
Ye favor'd sons of virtue and of songD
Say is the field too narrow Are the timesA
Barren of folly and devoid of crimesA
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Yet venial vices in a milder ageE
Could rouse the warmth of Pope's satiric rageE
The doting miser and the lavish heirF
The follies and the foibles of the fairF
Sir Job Sir Balaam and old Euclio's thriftG
And Sappho's diamonds with her dirty shiftG
Blunt Charteris Hopkins meaner subjects firedH
The keen eyed Poet while the Muse inspiredH
Her ardent child entwining as he sateI
His laurell'd chaplet with the thorns of hateI
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But say indignant does the Muse retireJ
Her shrine deserted and extinct its fireK
No pious hand to feed the sacred flameL
No raptured soul a Poet's charge to claimL
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Bethink thee Gifford when some future ageE
Shall trace the promise of thy playful pageE
quot The hand which brush'd a swarm of fools awayC
quot Should rouse to grasp a more reluctant prey quotI
Think then will pleaded indolence excuseA
The tame secession of thy languid MuseA
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Ah where is now that promise Why so longD
Sleep the keen shafts of satire and of songD
Oh come with Taste and Virtue at thy sideI
With ardent zeal inflamed and patriot prideI
With keen poetic glance direct the blowM
And empty all thy quiver on the foeM
No pause no rest till weltering on the groundI
The poisonous hydra lies and pierced with many a woundI
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Thou too the nameless Bard whose honest zealN
For law for morals for the public wealN
Pours down impetuous on thy country's foesA
The stream of verse and many languaged proseA
Thou too though oft thy ill advised dislikeO
The guiltless head with random censure strikeO
Though quaint allusions vague and undefinedI
Play faintly round the ear but mock the mindI
Through the mix'd mass yet taste and learning shineP
And manly vigour stamps the nervous lineP
And patriot warmth the generous rage inspiresA
And wakes and points the desultory firesA
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Yet more remain unknown for who can tellN
What bashful genius in some rural cellN
As year to year and day succeeds to dayI
In joyless leisure wastes his life awayI
In him the flame of early fancy shoneQ
His genuine worth his old companions ownQ
In childhood and in youth their chief confess'dI
His master's pride his pattern to the restI
Now far aloof retiring from the strifeR
Of busy talents and of active lifeR
As from the loop holes of retreat he viewsA
Our stage verse pamphlets politics and newsA
He loathes the world or with reflection sadI
Concludes it irrecoverably madI
Of taste of learning morals all bereftI
No hope no prospect to redeem it leftI
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Awake for shame or ere thy nobler senseA
Sink in the oblivious pool of indolenceA
Must wit be found alone on falsehood's sideI
Unknown to truth to virtue unalliedI
Arise nor scorn thy country's just alarmsA
Wield in her cause thy long neglected armsA
Of lofty satire pour the indignant strainS
Leagued with her friends and ardent to maintainS
'Gainst Learning's Virtue's Truth's Religion's foesA
A kingdom's safety and the world's reposeA
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If Vice appal thee if thou view with aweT
Insults that brave and crimes that 'scape the lawN
Yet may the specious bastard brood which claimL
A spurious homage under Virtue's nameL
Sprung from that parent of ten thousand crimesA
The new Philosophy of modern timesA
Yet these may rouse thee With unsparing handI
Oh lash the vile impostors from the landI
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First stern Philanthropy not she who driesA
The orphan's tears and wipes the widow's eyesA
Not she who sainted Charity her guideI
Of British bounty pours the annual tideI
But French Philanthropy whose boundless mindI
Glows with the general love of all mankindI
Philanthropy beneath whose baneful swayI
Each patriot passion sinks and dies awayI
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Taught in her school t'imbibe thy mawkish strainS
Condorcet filter'd through the dregs of PaineS
Each pert adept disowns a Briton's partI
And plucks the name of England from his heartI
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What shall a name a word a sound controulN
The aspiring thought and cramp the expansive soulN
Shall one half peopled Island's rocky roundI
A love that glows for all Creation boundI
And social charities contract the planU
Framed for thy Freedom universal manU
No through the extended globe his feelings runV
As broad and general as the unbounded sunV
No narrow bigot he his reason'd viewW
Thy interests England rank with thine PeruW
France at our doors he sees no danger nighX
But heaves for Turkey's woes the impartial sighX
A steady Patriot of the World aloneQ
The Friend of every Country but his ownQ
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Next comes a gentler Virtue Ah bewareF
Lest the harsh verse her shrinking softness scareF
Visit her not too roughly the warm sighX
Breathes on her lips the tear drop gems her eyeX
Sweet Sensibility who dwells enshrinedI
In the fine foldings of the feeling mindI
With delicate Mimosa's sense enduedI
Who shrinks instinctive from a hand too rudeI
Or like the Anagallis prescient flowerK
Shuts her soft petals at the approaching showerK
Sweet child of sickly Fancy her of yoreY
From her loved France Rousseau to exile boreY
And while midst lakes and mountains wild he ranU
Full of himself and shunn'd the haunts of manU
Taught her o'er each lone vale and alpine steepZ
To lisp the story of his wrongs and weepZ
Taught her to cherish still in either eyeX
Of tender tears a plentiful supplyX
And pour them in her brooks that babbled byX
Taught by nice scale to meet her feelings strongD
False by degrees and exquisitely wrongD
For the crush'd beetle first the widow'd doveA2
And all the warbled sorrows of the groveB2
Next for poor suffering guilt and last of allN
For Parents Friends a king and Country's fallN
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Mark her fair votaries prodigal of griefC2
With cureless pangs and woes that mock reliefC2
Droop in soft sorrow o'er a faded flowerK
O'er a dead jack ass pour the pearly showerK
But hear unmoved of Loire's ensanguined floodI
Choked up with slain of Lyons drench'd in bloodI
Of crimes that blot the age the world with shameL
Foul crimes but sicklied o'er with Freedom's nameL
Altars and thrones subverted social lifeR
Trampled to earth the husband from the wifeR
Parent from child with ruthless fury tornD2
Of talents honour virtue wit forlornD2
In friendless exile of the wise and goodI
Staining the daily scaffold with their bloodI
Of savage cruelties that scare the mindI
The rage of madness with hell's lust combin'dI
Of hearts torn reeking from the mangled breastI
They hear and hope that all is for the bestI
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Fond hope but Justice sanctifies the prayerF
Justice here Satire strike 'twere sin to spareF
Not she in British Courts that takes her standI
The dawdling balance dangling in her handI
Adjusting punishments to fraud and viceA
With srupulous quirks and disquisition niceA
But firm erect with keen reverted glanceA
The avenging angel of regenerate FranceA
Who visits ancient sins on modern timesA
And punishes the Pope for C sar's crimesA
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Such is the liberal Justice which presidesA
In these our days and modern patriot's guidesA
Justice whose blood stain'd book one sole decreeE2
One statute fills quot The People shall be free quotI
Free by what means by folly madness guiltI
By bounteous rapines blood in oceans spiltI
By confiscation in whose sweeping toilN

George Canning



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