Don Juan: Canto The Tenth Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABACDD EFEFEFGG HIJIJIKE ILILILMM NONPNOEE QE EQEII RJRJRJEE HBHBJBSS GIGIGISS ETETETEE USUS SVV ESESESEE EK KEIEE WXWXWXBB SISISIYZ A2JA2J JB2B2 IA2IA2IC2C2 D2ED2EE2EA2 F2IF2IF2IG2 H2RH2RH2RSS BEBEBEII DI2DI2DJ2K2K2 G2EL2EE

When Newton saw an apple fall he foundA
In that slight startle from his contemplationB
'Tis said for I 'll not answer above groundA
For any sage's creed or calculationB
A mode of proving that the earth turn'd roundA
In a most natural whirl called 'gravitation 'C
And this is the sole mortal who could grappleD
Since Adam with a fall or with an appleD
-
Man fell with apples and with apples roseE
If this be true for we must deem the modeF
In which Sir Isaac Newton could discloseE
Through the then unpaved stars the turnpike roadF
A thing to counterbalance human woesE
For ever since immortal man hath glow'dF
With all kinds of mechanics and full soonG
Steam engines will conduct him to the moonG
-
And wherefore this exordium Why just nowH
In taking up this paltry sheet of paperI
My bosom underwent a glorious glowJ
And my internal spirit cut a caperI
And though so much inferior as I knowJ
To those who by the dint of glass and vapourI
Discover stars and sail in the wind's eyeK
I wish to do as much by poesyE
-
In the wind's eye I have sail'd and sail but forI
The stars I own my telescope is dimL
But at least I have shunn'd the common shoreI
And leaving land far out of sight would skimL
The ocean of eternity the roarI
Of breakers has not daunted my slight trimL
But still sea worthy skiff and she may floatM
Where ships have founder'd as doth many a boatM
-
We left our hero Juan in the bloomN
Of favouritism but not yet in the blushO
And far be it from my Muses to presumeN
For I have more than one Muse at a pushP
To follow him beyond the drawing roomN
It is enough that Fortune found him flushO
Of youth and vigour beauty and those thingsE
Which for an instant clip enjoyment's wingsE
-
But soon they grow again and leave their nestQ
'Oh ' saith the Psalmist 'that I had a dove'sE
Pinions to flee away and be at rest '-
And who that recollects young years and lovesE
Though hoary now and with a withering breastQ
And palsied fancy which no longer rovesE
Beyond its dimm'd eye's sphere but would much ratherI
Sigh like his son than cough like his grandfatherI
-
But sighs subside and tears even widows' shrinkR
Like Arno in the summer to a shallowJ
So narrow as to shame their wintry brinkR
Which threatens inundations deep and yellowJ
Such difference doth a few months make You 'd thinkR
Grief a rich field which never would lie fallowJ
No more it doth its ploughs but change their boysE
Who furrow some new soil to sow for joysE
-
But coughs will come when sighs depart and nowH
And then before sighs cease for oft the oneB
Will bring the other ere the lake like browH
Is ruffled by a wrinkle or the sunB
Of life reach'd ten o'clock and while a glowJ
Hectic and brief as summer's day nigh doneB
O'erspreads the cheek which seems too pure for clayS
Thousands blaze love hope die how happy theyS
-
But Juan was not meant to die so soonG
We left him in the focus of such gloryI
As may be won by favour of the moonG
Or ladies' fancies rather transitoryI
Perhaps but who would scorn the month of JuneG
Because December with his breath so hoaryI
Must come Much rather should he court the rayS
To hoard up warmth against a wintry dayS
-
Besides he had some qualities which fixE
Middle aged ladies even more than youngT
The former know what's what while new fledged chicksE
Know little more of love than what is sungT
In rhymes or dreamt for fancy will play tricksE
In visions of those skies from whence Love sprungT
Some reckon women by their suns or yearsE
I rather think the moon should date the dearsE
-
And why because she's changeable and chasteU
I know no other reason whatsoe'erS
Suspicious people who find fault in hasteU
May choose to tax me with which is not fairS
Nor flattering to 'their temper or their taste '-
As my friend Jeffrey writes with such an airS
However I forgive him and I trustV
He will forgive himself if not I mustV
-
Old enemies who have become new friendsE
Should so continue 'tis a point of honourS
And I know nothing which could make amendsE
For a return to hatred I would shun herS
Like garlic howsoever she extendsE
Her hundred arms and legs and fain outrun herS
Old flames new wives become our bitterest foesE
Converted foes should scorn to join with thoseE
-
This were the worst desertion renegadoesE
Even shuffling Southey that incarnate lieK
Would scarcely join again the 'reformadoes '-
Whom he forsook to fill the laureate's styK
And honest men from Iceland to BarbadoesE
Whether in Caledon or ItalyI
Should not veer round with every breath nor seizeE
To pain the moment when you cease to pleaseE
-
The lawyer and the critic but beholdW
The baser sides of literature and lifeX
And nought remains unseen but much untoldW
By those who scour those double vales of strifeX
While common men grow ignorantly oldW
The lawyer's brief is like the surgeon's knifeX
Dissecting the whole inside of a questionB
And with it all the process of digestionB
-
A legal broom's a moral chimney sweeperS
And that's the reason he himself's so dirtyI
The endless soot bestows a tint far deeperS
Than can be hid by altering his shirt heI
Retains the sable stains of the dark creeperS
At least some twenty nine do out of thirtyI
In all their habits not so you I ownY
As Caesar wore his robe you wear your gownZ
-
And all our little feuds at least all mineA2
Dear Jefferson once my most redoubted foeJ
As far as rhyme and criticism combineA2
To make such puppets of us things belowJ
Are over Here's a health to 'Auld Lang Syne '-
I do not know you and may never knowJ
Your face but you have acted on the wholeB2
Most nobly and I own it from my soulB2
-
And when I use the phrase of 'Auld Lang Syne '-
'Tis not address'd to you the more 's the pityI
For me for I would rather take my wineA2
With you than aught save Scott in your proud cityI
But somehow it may seem a schoolboy's whineA2
And yet I seek not to be grand nor wittyI
But I am half a Scot by birth and bredC2
A whole one and my heart flies to my headC2
-
As 'Auld Lang Syne' brings Scotland one and allD2
Scotch plaids Scotch snoods the blue hills and clear streamsE
The Dee the Don Balgounie's brig's black wallD2
All my boy feelings all my gentler dreamsE
Of what I then dreamt clothed in their own pallE2
Like Banquo's offspring floating past me seemsE
My childhood in this childishness of mineA2
I care not 'tis a glimpse of 'Auld Lang Syne '-
-
And though as you remember in a fitF2
Of wrath and rhyme when juvenile and curlyI
I rail'd at Scots to show my wrath and witF2
Which must be own'd was sensitive and surlyI
Yet 't is in vain such sallies to permitF2
They cannot quench young feelings fresh and earlyI
I 'scotch'd not kill'd' the Scotchman in my bloodG2
And love the land of 'mountain and of flood '-
-
Don Juan who was real or idealH2
For both are much the same since what men thinkR
Exists when the once thinkers are less realH2
Than what they thought for mind can never sinkR
And 'gainst the body makes a strong appealH2
And yet 'tis very puzzling on the brinkR
Of what is call'd eternity to stareS
And know no more of what is here than thereS
-
Don Juan grew a very polish'd RussianB
How we won't mention why we need not sayE
Few youthful minds can stand the strong concussionB
Of any slight temptation in their wayE
But his just now were spread as is a cushionB
Smooth'd for a monarch's seat of honour gayE
Damsels and dances revels ready moneyI
Made ice seem paradise and winter sunnyI
-
The favour of the empress was agreeableD
And though the duty wax'd a little hardI2
Young people at his time of life should be ableD
To come off handsomely in that regardI2
He was now growing up like a green tree ableD
For love war or ambition which rewardJ2
Their luckier votaries till old age's tediumK2
Make some prefer the circulating mediumK2
-
About this time as might have been anticipatedG2
Seduced by youth and dangerous examplesE
Don Juan grew I fear a little dissipatedL2
Which is a sad thing and not only tramplesE
On our fresh feelings but asE

George Gordon Byron



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