The Irish Avatar Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AB CDCD EFBG HIHI HJHK HHHH ILIL MHNH OPOP QDQD RSTS UBVB WXWX HNHN YDYD ZPZP NA2NA2 B2HB2 C2HC2H D2BD2B D2E2D2 F2G2F2G2 F2HF2H KH2KI2 D2HD2H D2J2D2J2 G2K2G2K2 D2ID2I D2HD2H IC2IC2 HD2HD2 ID2ID2 IIII

'And Ireland like a bastinadoed elephantA
kneeling to receive the paltry rider ' CurranB
-
-
Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her graveC
And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tideD
Lo George the triumphant speeds over the waveC
To the long cherish'd isle which he loved like his brideD
-
True the great of her bright and brief era are goneE
The rainbow like epoch where Freedom could pauseF
For the few little years out of centuries wonB
Which betray'd not or crush'd not or wept not her causeG
-
True the chains of the Catholic clank o'er his ragsH
The castle still stands and the senate's no moreI
And the famine which dwelt on her freedomless cragsH
Is extending its steps to her desolate shoreI
-
To her desolate shore where the emigrant standsH
For a moment to gaze ere he flies from his hearthJ
Tears fall on his chain though it drops from his handsH
For the dungeon he quits is the place of his birthK
-
But he comes the Messiah of royalty comesH
Like a goodly Leviathan roll'd from the wavesH
Then receive him as best such an advent becomesH
With a legion of cooks and an army of slavesH
-
He comes in the promise and bloom of threescoreI
To perform in the pageant the sovereign's partL
But long live the shamrock which shadows him o'erI
Could the green in his hat be transferr'd to his heartL
-
Could that long wither'd spot but be ver dant againM
And a new spring of noble affections ariseH
Then might freedom forgive thee this dance in thy chainN
And this shout of thy slavery which saddens the skiesH
-
Is it madness or meanness which clings to thee nowO
Were he God as he is but the com monest clayP
With scarce fewer wrinkles than sins on his browO
Such servile devotion might shame him awayP
-
Ay roar in his train let thine orators lashQ
Their fanciful spirits to pamper his prideD
Not thus did thy Grattan indignantly flashQ
His soul o'er the freedom implored and deniedD
-
Ever glorious Grattan the best of the goodR
So simple in heart so sublime in the restS
With all which Demosthenes wanted enduedT
And his rival or victor in all he possess'dS
-
Ere Tully arose in the zenith of RomeU
Though unequall'd preceded the task was begunB
But Grattan sprung up like a god from the tombV
Of ages the first last the saviour the oneB
-
With the skill of an Orpheus to soften the bruteW
With the fire of Prometheus to kindle mankindX
Even Tyranny listening sate melted or muteW
And Corruption shrunk scorch'd from the glance of his mindX
-
But back to our theme Back to despots and slavesH
Feasts furnish'd by Famine Rejoicings by PainN
True freedom but welcomes while slavery still ravesH
When a week's saturnalia hath loosen'd her chainN
-
Let the poor squalid splendour thy wreck can affordY
As the bankrupt's profusion his ruin would hideD
Gild over the palace Lo Erin thy lordY
Kiss his foot with thy blessing his bless ings deniedD
-
Or if freedom past hope be extorted at lastZ
If the idol of brass find his feet are of clayP
Must what terror or policy wring forth be class'dZ
With what monarchs ne'er give but as wolves yield their preyP
-
Each brute hath its nature a king's is to reignN
To reign in that word see ye ages comprisedA2
The cause of the curses all annals containN
From Caesar the dreaded to George the despisedA2
-
Wear Fingal thy trapping O'Connell proclaimB2
His accomplishments Hist and thy country convinceH
Half an age's contempt was an error of fameB2
And that 'Hal is the rascaliest sweetest young prince '-
-
Will thy yard of blue riband poor Fingal recallC2
The fetters from millions of Catholic limbsH
Or has it not bound thee the fastest of allC2
The slaves who now hail their betrayer with hymnsH
-
Ay 'Build him a dwelling ' let each give his miteD2
Till like Babel the new royal dome hath arisenB
Let thy beggars and helots their pittance uniteD2
And a palace bestow for a poor house and prisonB
-
Spread spread for Vitellius the royal repastD2
Till the gluttonous despot be stuff'd to the gorgeE2
And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at lastD2
The fourth of the fools and oppressors call'd 'George '-
-
Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they groanF2
Till they groan like thy people through ages of woeG2
Let the wine flow around the old Bacchanal's throneF2
Like their blood which has flow'd and which yet has to flowG2
-
But let not his name be thine idol aloneF2
On his right hand behold a Sejanus appearsH
Thine own Castlereagh let him still be thine ownF2
A wretch never named but with curses and jeersH
-
Till now when the isle which should blush for his birthK
Deep deep as the gore which he shed on her soilH2
Seems proud of the reptile which crawl 'd from her earthK
And for murder repays him with shouts and a smileI2
-
Without one single ray of her genius withoutD2
The fancy the manhood the fire of her raceH
The miscreant who well might plunge Erin in doubtD2
If she ever gave birth to a being so baseH
-
If she did let her long boasted proverb be hush'dD2
Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can springJ2
See the cold blooded serpent with venom full flush'dD2
Still warming its folds in the breast of a kingJ2
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Shout drink feast and flatter Oh Erin how lowG2
Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny tillK2
Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee belowG2
The depth of thy deep in a deeper gulf stillK2
-
My voice though but humble was raised for thy rightD2
My vote as a freeman's still voted thee freeI
This hand though but feeble would arm in thy fightD2
And this heart though outworn had a throb still for theeI
-
Yes I loved thee and thine though thou art not my landD2
I have known noble hearts and great souls in thy sonsH
And I wept with the world o'er the patriot bandD2
Who are gone but I weep them no longer as onceH
-
For happy are they now reposing afarI
Thy Grattan thy Curran thy Sheridan allC2
Who for years were the chiefs in the eloquent warI
And redeem'd if they have not retarded thy fallC2
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Yes happy are they in their cold English gravesH
Their shades cannot start to thy shouts of todayD2
Nor the steps of enslavers and chain kissing slavesH
Be stamp'd in the turf o'er their fetter less clayD2
-
Till now I had envied thy sons and their shoreI
Though their virtues were hunted their liberties fledD2
There was something so warm and sublime in the coreI
Of an Irishman's heart that I envy thy deadD2
-
Or if aught in my bosom can quench for an hourI
My contempt for a nation so servile though soreI
Which though trod like the worm will not turn upon powerI
'Tis the glory of Grattan and genius of MooreI

George Gordon Byron



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