Fragment Of An Epistle To Thomas Moore Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDAAAA AAEFAAA GGAACC H

'What say I ' not a syllable further in proseA
I'm your man 'of all measures ' dear Tom so here goesA
Here goes for a swim on the stream of old TimeB
On those buoyant supporters the blad ders of rhymeB
If our weight breaks them down and we sink in the floodC
We are smother'd at least in respectable mudC
Where the Divers of Bathos lie drown'd in a heapD
And Southey's last P an has pillow'd his sleepD
That Felo de se ' who half drunk with his malmseyA
Walk'd out of his depth and was lost in a calm seaA
Singing 'Glory to God' in a spick and span stanzaA
The like since Tom Sternhold was choked never man sawA
-
The papers have told you no doubt of the fussesA
The fetes and the gapings to get at these RussesA
Of his Majesty's suite up from coach man to HetmanE
And what dignity decks the flat face of the great manF
I saw him last week at two balls and a partyA
For a prince his demeanour was rather too heartyA
You know we are used to quite different gracesA
-
The Czar's look I own was much brighter and briskerG
But then he is sadly deficient in whiskerG
And wore but a starless blue coat and in kerseyA
Mere breeches whisk'd round in a waltz with the JerseyA
Who lovely as ever seem'd just as delightedC
With Majesty's presence as those she invitedC
-
JuneH

George Gordon Byron



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