Sonnet: Philarete Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Now that my body dead aliue	A
Bereau'd of comfort lies in thrall	A
Doe thou my soul begin to thriue	B
And unto honie turne this gall	A
So shall we both through outward wo	C
The way to inward comfort know	C
	-
For as that foode my flesh I giue	D
Doth keepe in me this mortall breath	E
So souls on meditations hue	F
And shunne thereby immortall death	E
Nor art thou euer neerer rest	G
Than when thou find'st me most opprest	G
	-
First thinke my soule if I haue foes	H
That take a pleasure in my care	B
And to procure these outward woes	H
Haue thus enwrapt me vnaware	B
Thou should'st by much more carefull bee	I
Since greater foes lay waite for thee	I
	-
Then when mew'd vp in grates of Steele	A
Minding those ioyes mine eyes do misse	H
Thou find'st no torment thou dost feele	A
So grieuous as privation is	H
Muse how the damn'd in flames that glow	A
Pine in the loss of bliss they know	A
	-
Thou seest there's giuen so great might	G
To some that are but clay as I	J
Their very anger can affright	G
Which if in any thou espie	K
Thus thinke if mortal's frownes strike feare	B
How dreadfull will God's wrath appeare	B
	-
By my late hopes than none are crost	G
Consider those that firmer bee	I
And make the freedome I have lost	G
A meanes that may remember thee	I
Had Christ not thy redeemer bin	L
What horrid thrall thou hadst been in	L
	-
These iron chaines the bolts of Steele	A
Which other poore offenders griend	G
The wants and cares which they do feele	A
May bring some greater thing to mind	G
For by their griefe thou shalt doe well	A
To thinke upon the paines of hell	A
	-
Or when through me thou seest a man	M
Condemned vnto a mortall death	E
How sad he lookes how pale how Wan	N
Drawing with fear his panting breath	E
Thinke if in that such griefe thou see	I
How sad will Go yee cursed bee	I
	-
Againe when he that fear'd to dye	J
Past hope doth see his pardon brought	G
Reade but the joy that's in his eye	J
And then conuey it to thy thought	G
There thinke betwixt my heart and thee	I
How sweet will Come yee blessed bee	I
	-
Thus if thou doe though closed here	B
My bondage I shall deem the lesse	I
I neither shall have cause to feare	B
Nor yet bevvaile my sad distresse	I
For whether Hue or pine or dye	J
We shall haue blisse eternally	I
	-
	-
Willy	I
	-
Trust me I see the cage doth some birds good	G
And if they do not suffer too much wrong	O
Will teach them sweeter descants than the wood	G
Beleeu't I like the subiect of thy song	O
It showes thou art in no distempered mood	G
But cause to heare the residue I long	O
My sheep to morrow I will nearer bring	P
And spend the day to heare thee talk and sing	P
	-
Yet ere we part Roget to areed	G
Of whom thou learn'dst to make such songs as these	I
I neuer yet heard any shepheard's reede	G
Tune in mishap a straine that more could please	I
Surely thou dost inuoke at this thy need	G
Some power that we neglect in other layes	I
For here's a name and words that but few swaines	I
Haue mentioned at their meeting on the plaines	I
	-
	-
Roget	G
	-
Indeed 'tis true and they are sore to blame	Q
That doe so much neglect it in their songs	I
For thence proceedeth such a worthy fame	Q
As is not subject vnto enue's wrongs	I
That is the most to be respected name	Q
Of our true Pan whose worth sits on all tongues	I
And what the ancient shepheards vse to prayse	I
In sacred anthems sung on holy dayes	I
	-
Hee that first taught his musike such a straine	N
Was that sweet shepheard who vntill a king	P
Kept sheepe upon the hony milky plaine	N
That is inricht by Jordan's watering	P
He in his troubles eased the bodie's paines	I
By measures raised to the souJe's rauishing	P
And his sweet numbers onely most diuine	N
Gaue first the being to this song of mine	N
	-
	-
Willy	I
	-
Let his good spirit euer with thee dwell	A
That I might hear such musicke every day	G
	-
	-
Philarete	G
	-
Thankes but would now it pleased thee to play	G
Yet sure 'tis late thy weather rings his bell	A
And swaines to fold or homeward drive away	G
	-
	-
Willy	I
	-
And yon goes Cuddy therefore fare thou well	A
Fie make his sheepe for me a little stay	G
And if thou thinke it fit I'll bring him too	G
Next morning hither	B
	-
	-
Philarete	G
	-
Prithee Willy do	G

George Wither

Sonnet: Philarete Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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