The Vision Of Judgment Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCBDBDEE A FBFBFBGG A AHAHAHEE A EBEBEBEE A IBIBIBBB A BABCBCII A EBEAEBII A IIIIIIBB E JIJIJIEE E KHCHLHBB E BMBNBNEE E IOIOIOII E EOAOAOII A HBHBOBEE A PQPQPQAA A BRBRBRS A EEE EEM A OBOBOEE E EIEIEIBB E OIOIOIBB E EOEOEOH E BMBMO

IA
-
Saint Peter sat by the celestial gateB
His keys were rusty and the lock was dullC
So little trouble had been given of lateB
Not that the place by any means was fullD
But since the Gallic era 'eight eight'B
The devils had ta'en a longer stronger pullD
And 'a pull altogether ' as they sayE
At sea which drew most souls another wayE
-
IIA
-
The angels all were singing out of tuneF
And hoarse with having little else to doB
Excepting to wind up the sun and moonF
Or curb a runaway young star or twoB
Or wild colt of a comet which too soonF
Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blueB
Splitting some planet with its playful tailG
As boats are sometimes by a wanton whaleG
-
IIIA
-
The guardian seraphs had retired on highA
Finding their charges past all care belowH
Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the skyA
Save the recording angel's black bureauH
Who found indeed the facts to multiplyA
With such rapidity of vice and woeH
That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quillsE
And yet was in arrear of human illsE
-
IVA
-
His business so augmented of late yearsE
That he was forced against his will no doubtB
Just like those cherubs earthly ministersE
For some resource to turn himself aboutB
And claim the help of his celestial peersE
To aid him ere he should be quite worn outB
By the increased demand for his remarksE
Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerksE
-
VA
-
This was a handsome board at least for heavenI
And yet they had even then enough to doB
So many conqueror's cars were daily drivenI
So many kingdoms fitted up anewB
Each day too slew its thousands six or sevenI
Till at the crowning carnage WaterlooB
They threw their pens down in divine disgustB
The page was so besmear'd with blood and dustB
-
VIA
-
This by the way 'tis not mine to recordB
What angels shrink Wrom ZAAFXISHJEXXIMQZUIVOA
On this occasion his own work abhorr'dB
So surfeited with the infernal revelC
Though he himself had sharpen'd every swordB
It almost quench'd his innate thirst of evilC
Here Satan's sole good work deserves insertionI
'Tis that he has both generals in reverationI
-
VIIA
-
Let's skip a few short years of hollow peaceE
Which peopled earth no better hell as wontB
And heaven none they form the tyrant's leaseE
With nothing but new names subscribed upon'tA
'Twill one day finish meantime they increaseE
'With seven heads and ten horns ' and all in frontB
Like Saint John's foretold beast but ours are bornI
Less formidable in the head than hornI
-
VIIIA
-
In the first year of freedom's second dawnI
Died George the Third although no tyrant oneI
Who shielded tyrants till each sense withdrawnI
Left him nor mental nor external sunI
A better farmer ne'er brush'd dew from lawnI
A worse king never left a realm undoneI
He died but left his subjects still behindB
One half as mad and t'other no less blindB
-
IXE
-
He died his death made no great stir on earthJ
His burial made some pomp there was profusionI
Of velvet gilding brass and no great dearthJ
Of aught but tears save those shed by collusionI
For these things may be bought at their true worthJ
Of elegy there was the due infusionI
Bought also and the torches cloaks and bannersE
Heralds and relics of old Gothic mannersE
-
XE
-
Form'd a sepulchral melo drame Of allK
The fools who flack's to swell or see the showH
Who cared about the corpse The funeralC
Made the attraction and the black the woeH
There throbbed not there a thought which pierced the pallL
And when the gorgeous coffin was laid lowH
It seamed the mockery of hell to foldB
The rottenness of eighty years in goldB
-
XIE
-
So mix his body with the dust It mightB
Return to what it must far sooner wereM
The natural compound left alone to fightB
Its way back into earth and fire and airN
But the unnatural balsams merely blightB
What nature made him at his birth as bareN
As the mere million's base unmarried clayE
Yet all his spices but prolong decayE
-
XIIE
-
He's dead and upper earth with him has doneI
He's buried save the undertaker's billO
Or lapidary scrawl the world is goneI
For him unless he left a German willO
But where's the proctor who will ask his sonI
In whom his qualities are reigning stillO
Except that household virtue most uncommonI
Of constancy to a bad ugly womanI
-
XIIIE
-
'God save the king ' It is a large economyE
In God to save the like but if he willO
Be saving all the better for not one am IA
Of those who think damnation better stillO
I hardly know too if not quite alone am IA
In this small hope of bettering future illO
By circumscribing with some slight restrictionI
The eternity of hell's hot jurisdictionI
-
XIVA
-
I know this is unpopular I knowH
'Tis blasphemous I know one may be damnedB
For hoping no one else may ever be soH
I know my catechism I know we're caromedB
With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflowO
I know that all save England's church have shamm'dB
And that the other twice two hundred churchesE
And synagogues have made a damn'd bad purchaseE
-
XVA
-
God help us all God help me too I amP
God knows as helpless as the devil can wishQ
And not a whit more difficult to damnP
Than is to bring to land a late hook'd fishQ
Or to the butcher to purvey the lambP
Not that I'm fit for such a noble dishQ
As one day will be that immortal fryA
Of almost everybody born to dieA
-
XVIA
-
Saint Peter sat by the celestial gateB
And nodded o'er his keys when lo there cameR
A wondrous noise he had not heard of lateB
A rushing sound of wind and stream and flameR
In short a roar of things extremely greatB
Which would have made aught save a saint exclaimR
But he with first a start and then a winkS
Said 'There's another star gone out I think '-
-
XVIIA
-
But ere he could return to his reposeE
A cherub flapp'd his right wing o'er his eyesE
At which St Peter yawn'd and rubb'd his hoseE
'Saint porter ' said the angel 'prithee rise '-
Waving a goodly wing which glow'd as glowsE
An earthly peacock's tail with heavenly dyesE
To which the saint replied 'Well what's the matterM
'Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter '-
-
XVIIIA
-
'No ' quoth the cherub 'George the Third is dead '-
'And who is George the Third ' replied the apostleO
'What George what Third ' 'The king of England ' saidB
The angel 'Well he won't find kings to jostleO
Him on his way but does he wear his headB
Because the last we saw here had a tussleO
And ne'er would have got into heaven's good gracesE
Had he not flung his head in all our facesE
-
XIXE
-
'He was if I remember king of FranceE
That head of his which could not keep a crownI
On earth yet ventured in my face to advanceE
A claim to those of martyrs like my ownI
If I had had my sword as I had onceE
When I cut ears off I had cut him downI
But having but my keys and not my brandB
I only knock'd his head from out his handB
-
XXE
-
'And then he set up such a headless howlO
That all the saints came out and took him inI
And there he sits by St Paul cheek by jowlO
That fellow Paul the parven The skinI
Of St Bartholomew which makes his cowlO
In heaven and upon earth redeem'd his sinI
So as to make a martyr never spedB
Better than did this weak and wooden headB
-
XXIE
-
'But had it come up here upon its shouldersE
There would have been a different tale to tellO
The fellow feeling in the saint's beholdersE
Seems to have acted on them like a spellO
And so this very foolish head heaven soldersE
Back on its trunk it may be very wellO
And seems the custom here to overthrowH
Whatever has been wisely done below '-
-
XXIIE
-
The angel answer'd 'Peter do not poutB
The king who comes has head and all entireM
And never knew much what it was aboutB
He did as doth the puppet by its wireM
And will be judged lO

George Gordon Byron



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