To Edward Noel Long, Esq. [1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCDCEEFGHHIJKKLMLMNO NOPPQQ RRSSTTTTCCUUVTVTWWXX YZYZA2B2A2OC2D2C2D2E 2F2E2F2UB2UB2G2TG2TW WPPB2B2ZZTH2TH2SSSS I2I2J2J2B2OH2K2H2K2L 2L2M2M2A2A2N2N2OB2YY

Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico HORACEA
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Dear LONG in this sequester'd sceneB
While all around in slumber lieC
The joyous days which ours have beenD
Come rolling fresh on Fancy's eyeC
Thus if amidst the gathering stormE
While clouds the darken'd noon deformE
Yon heaven assumes a varied glowF
I hail the sky's celestial bowG
Which spreads the sign of future peaceH
And bids the war of tempests ceaseH
Ah though the present brings but painI
I think those days may come againJ
Or if in melancholy moodK
Some lurking envious fear intrudeK
To check my bosom's fondest thoughtL
And interrupt the golden dreamM
I crush the fiend with malice fraughtL
And still indulge my wonted themeM
Although we ne'er again can traceN
In Granta's vale the pedant's loreO
Nor through the groves of Ida chaseN
Our raptured visions as beforeO
Though Youth has flown on rosy pinionP
And Manhood claims his stern dominionP
Age will not every hope destroyQ
But yield some hours of sober joyQ
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Yes I will hope that Time's broad wingR
Will shed around some dews of springR
But if his scythe must sweep the flowersS
Which bloom among the fairy bowersS
Where smiling Youth delights to dwellT
And hearts with early rapture swellT
If frowning Age with cold controulT
Confines the current of the soulT
Congeals the tear of Pity's eyeC
Or checks the sympathetic sighC
Or hears unmov'd Misfortune's groanU
And bids me feel for self aloneU
Oh may my bosom never learnV
To soothe its wonted heedless flowT
Still still despise the censor sternV
But ne'er forget another's woeT
Yes as you knew me in the daysW
O'er which Remembrance yet delaysW
Still may I rove untutor'd wildX
And even in age at heart a childX
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Though now on airy visions borneY
To you my soul is still the sameZ
Oft has it been my fate to mournY
And all my former joys are tameZ
But hence ye hours of sable hueA2
Your frowns are gone my sorrows o'erB2
By every bliss my childhood knewA2
I'll think upon your shade no moreO
Thus when the whirlwind's rage is pastC2
And caves their sullen roar encloseD2
We heed no more the wintry blastC2
When lull'd by zephyr to reposeD2
Full often has my infant MuseE2
Attun'd to love her languid lyreF2
But now without a theme to chooseE2
The strains in stolen sighs expireF2
My youthful nymphs alas are flownU
E is a wife and C a motherB2
And Carolina sighs aloneU
And Mary's given to anotherB2
And Cora's eye which roll'd on meG2
Can now no more my love recallT
In truth dear LONG 'twas time to fleeG2
For Cora's eye will shine on allT
And though the Sun with genial raysW
His beams alike to all displaysW
And every lady's eye's a sunP
These last should be confin'd to oneP
The soul's meridian don't become herB2
Whose Sun displays a general summerB2
Thus faint is every former flameZ
And Passion's self is now a nameZ
As when the ebbing flames are lowT
The aid which once improv'd their lightH2
And bade them burn with fiercer glowT
Now quenches all their sparks in nightH2
Thus has it been with Passion's firesS
As many a boy and girl remembersS
While all the force of love expiresS
Extinguish'd with the dying embersS
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But now dear LONG 'tis midnight's noonI2
And clouds obscure the watery moonI2
Whose beauties I shall not rehearseJ2
Describ'd in every stripling's verseJ2
For why should I the path go o'erB2
Which every bard has trod beforeO
Yet ere yon silver lamp of nightH2
Has thrice perform'd her stated roundK2
Has thrice retrac'd her path of lightH2
And chas'd away the gloom profoundK2
I trust that we my gentle FriendL2
Shall see her rolling orbit wendL2
Above the dear lov'd peaceful seatM2
Which once contain'd our youth's retreatM2
And then with those our childhood knewA2
We'll mingle in the festive crewA2
While many a tale of former dayN2
Shall wing the laughing hours awayN2
And all the flow of souls shall pourO
The sacred intellectual showerB2
Nor cease till Luna's waning hornY
Scarce glimmers through the mist of MornY

George Gordon Byron



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