Childe Harold's Pilgrimage - To Ianthe. {1} Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABBCBCC DADAAEAEE FGFGGHGHH EIEIIJIJJ KLKLLMLNN

Not in those climes where I have late been strayingA
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deemedB
Not in those visions to the heart displayingA
Forms which it sighs but to have only dreamedB
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seemedB
Nor having seen thee shall I vainly seekC
To paint those charms which varied as they beamedB
To such as see thee not my words were weakC
To those who gaze on thee what language could they speakC
-
Ah mayst thou ever be what now thou artD
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy springA
As fair in form as warm yet pure in heartD
Love's image upon earth without his wingA
And guileless beyond Hope's imaginingA
And surely she who now so fondly rearsE
Thy youth in thee thus hourly brighteningA
Beholds the rainbow of her future yearsE
Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappearsE
-
Young Peri of the West 'tis well for meF
My years already doubly number thineG
My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on theeF
And safely view thy ripening beauties shineG
Happy I ne'er shall see them in declineG
Happier that while all younger hearts shall bleedH
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assignG
To those whose admiration shall succeedH
But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreedH
-
Oh let that eye which wild as the gazelle'sE
Now brightly bold or beautifully shyI
Wins as it wanders dazzles where it dwellsE
Glance o'er this page nor to my verse denyI
That smile for which my breast might vainly sighI
Could I to thee be ever more than friendJ
This much dear maid accord nor question whyI
To one so young my strain I would commendJ
But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blendJ
-
Such is thy name with this my verse entwinedK
And long as kinder eyes a look shall castL
On Harold's page Ianthe's here enshrinedK
Shall thus be first beheld forgotten lastL
My days once numbered should this homage pastL
Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyreM
Of him who hailed thee loveliest as thou wastL
Such is the most my memory may desireN
Though more than Hope can claim could Friendship less requireN

George Gordon Byron



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