Aneurin's Harp Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCBDEFEF A BGBGHHHH A IBIBHHHH H JBJBKLKL H KMKMHNHN H OHOHKOKO H BOBOPHPH H OHOHBOBO P OOOOOOOO P QRQRPBPB P OSOSQBQB P QBQBOPOP P PPPPPPPP H HPHPTPTP H BOBOUOUO H PQPQQHQH H POPOHHHH H QOQOUQUQ P PPPPBQBBI | A |
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Prince of Bards was old Aneurin | B |
He the grand Gododin sang | C |
All his numbers threw such fire in | B |
Struck his harp so wild a twang | D |
Still the wakeful Briton borrows | E |
Wisdom from its ancient heat | F |
Still it haunts our source of sorrows | E |
Deep excess of liquor sweet | F |
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II | A |
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Here the Briton there the Saxon | B |
Face to face three fields apart | G |
Thirst for light to lay their thwacks on | B |
Each the other with good heart | G |
Dry the Saxon sits 'mid dinful | H |
Noise of iron knits his steel | H |
Fresh and roaring with a skinful | H |
Britons round the hirlas reel | H |
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III | A |
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Yellow flamed the meady sunset | I |
Red runs up the flag of morn | B |
Signal for the British onset | I |
Hiccups through the British horn | B |
Down these hillmen pour like cattle | H |
Sniffing pasture grim below | H |
Showing eager teeth of battle | H |
In his spear heads lies the foe | H |
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IV | H |
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Monster of the sea we drive him | J |
Back into his hungry brine | B |
You shall lodge him feed him wive him | J |
Look on us we stand in line | B |
Pale sea monster foul the waters | K |
Cast him foul he leaves our land | L |
You shall yield us land and daughters | K |
Stay the tongue and try the hand | L |
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V | H |
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Swift as torrent streams our warriors | K |
Tossing torrent lights find way | M |
Burst the ridges crowd the barriers | K |
Pierce them where the spear heads play | M |
Turn them as the clods in furrow | H |
Top them like the leaping foam | N |
Sorrow to the mother sorrow | H |
Sorrow to the wife at home | N |
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VI | H |
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Stags they butted bulls they bellowed | O |
Hounds we baited them oh brave | H |
Every second man unfellowed | O |
Took the strokes of two and gave | H |
Bare as hop stakes in November's | K |
Mists they met our battle flood | O |
Hoary red as Winter's embers | K |
Lay their dead lines done in blood | O |
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VII | H |
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Thou my Bard didst hang thy lyre in | B |
Oak leaves and with crimson brand | O |
Rhythmic fury spent Aneurin | B |
Songs the churls could understand | O |
Thrumming on their Saxon sconces | P |
Straight the invariable blow | H |
Till they snorted true responses | P |
Ever thus the Bard they know | H |
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VIII | H |
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But ere nightfall harper lusty | O |
When the sun was like a ball | H |
Dropping on the battle dusty | O |
What was yon discordant call | H |
Cambria's old metheglin demon | B |
Breathed against our rushing tide | O |
Clove us midst the threshing seamen | B |
Gashed we saw our ranks divide | O |
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IX | P |
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Britain then with valedictory | O |
Shriek veiled off her face and knelt | O |
Full of liquor full of victory | O |
Chief on chief old vengeance dealt | O |
Backward swung their hurly burly | O |
None but dead men kept the fight | O |
They that drink their cup too early | O |
Darkness they shall see ere night | O |
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X | P |
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Loud we heard the yellow rover | Q |
Laugh to sleep while we raged thick | R |
Thick as ants the ant hill over | Q |
Asking who has thrust the stick | R |
Lo as frogs that Winter cumbers | P |
Meet the Spring with stiffen'd yawn | B |
We from our hard night of slumbers | P |
Marched into the bloody dawn | B |
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XI | P |
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Day on day we fought though shattered | O |
Pushed and met repulses sharp | S |
Till our Raven's plumes were scattered | O |
All save old Aneurin's harp | S |
Hear it wailing like a mother | Q |
O'er the strings of children slain | B |
He in one tongue in another | Q |
Alien I one blood yet twain | B |
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XII | P |
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Old Aneurin droop no longer | Q |
That squat ocean scum we own | B |
Had fine stoutness made us stronger | Q |
Brought us much required backbone | B |
Claimed of Power their dues and granted | O |
Dues to Power in turn when rose | P |
Mightier rovers they that planted | O |
Sovereign here the Norman nose | P |
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XIII | P |
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Glorious men with heads of eagles | P |
Chopping arms and cupboard lips | P |
Warriors hunters keen as beagles | P |
Mounted aye on horse or ships | P |
Active being hungry creatures | P |
Silent having nought to say | P |
High they raised the lord of features | P |
Saxon worshipped to this day | P |
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XIV | H |
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Hear its deeds the great recital | H |
Stout as bergs of Arctic ice | P |
Once it led and lived a title | H |
Now it is and names its price | P |
This our Saxon brothers cherish | T |
This when by the worth of wits | P |
Lands are reared aloft or perish | T |
Sole illumes their lucre pits | P |
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XV | H |
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Know we not our wrongs unwritten | B |
Though they be Aneurin Sword | O |
Song and subtle mind the Briton | B |
Brings to market all ignored | O |
'Gainst the Saxon's bone impinging | U |
Still is our Gododin played | O |
Shamed we see him humbly cringing | U |
In a shadowy nose's shade | O |
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XVI | H |
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Bitter is the weight that crushes | P |
Low my Bard thy race of fire | Q |
Here no fair young future blushes | P |
Bridal to a man's desire | Q |
Neither chief nor aim nor splendour | Q |
Dressing distance we perceive | H |
Neither honour nor the tender | Q |
Bloom of promise morn or eve | H |
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XVII | H |
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Joined we are a tide of races | P |
Rolled to meet a common fate | O |
England clasps in her embraces | P |
Many what is England's state | O |
England her distended middle | H |
Thumps with pride as Mammon's wife | H |
Says that thus she reads thy riddle | H |
Heaven 'tis heaven to plump her life | H |
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XVIII | H |
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O my Bard a yellow liquor | Q |
Like to that we drank of old | O |
Gold is her metheglin beaker | Q |
She destruction drinks in gold | O |
Warn her Bard that Power is pressing | U |
Hotly for his dues this hour | Q |
Tell her that no drunken blessing | U |
Stops the onward march of Power | Q |
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XIX | P |
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Has she ears to take forewarnings | P |
She will cleanse her of her stains | P |
Feed and speed for braver mornings | P |
Valorously the growth of brains | P |
Power the hard man knit for action | B |
Reads each nation on the brow | Q |
Cripple fool and petrifaction | B |
Fall to him are falling now | B |
George Meredith
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