A Dialogue To The Memory Of Mr. Alexander Pope Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AB C DDEEF GGHHBBIIJJKKLLMMNNOO PPQQRRAFS T UFA OV OWWXKOOYYZZA2A2B2B2 C2C2S SD2E2E2 A2A2 GGF2F2G2G2FFGGH2I2J2 J2K2K2L2L2GGM2 N2 O2O2BBFFFFP2P2M2M2Q2 Q2 R2R2GGFFCC| Non injussa cano | A |
| Virg | B |
| - | |
| - | |
| POET I sing of POPE | C |
| - | |
| FRIEND What POPE the Twitnam Bard | D |
| Whom Dennis Cibber Tibbald push'd so hard | D |
| POPE of the Dunciad POPE who dar'd to woo | E |
| And then to libel Wortley Montagu | E |
| POPE of the Ham walks story | F |
| - | |
| P Scandals all | G |
| Scandals that now I care not to recall | G |
| Surely a little in two hundred Years | H |
| One may neglect Contemporary Sneers | H |
| Surely Allowance for the Man may make | B |
| That had all Grub street yelping in his Wake | B |
| And who I ask you has been never Mean | I |
| When urged by Envy Anger or the Spleen | I |
| No I prefer to look on POPE as one | J |
| Not rightly happy till his Life was done | J |
| Whose whole Career romance it as you please | K |
| Was what he call'd it but a long Disease | K |
| Think of his Lot his Pilgrimage of Pain | L |
| His crazy Carcass and his restless Brain | L |
| Think of his Night Hours with their Feet of Lead | M |
| His dreary Vigil and his aching Head | M |
| Think of all this and marvel then to find | N |
| The crooked Body with a crooked Mind | N |
| Nay rather marvel that in Fate's Despite | O |
| You find so much to solace and delight | O |
| So much of Courage and of Purpose high | P |
| In that unequal Struggle not to die | P |
| I grant you freely that POPE played his Part | Q |
| Sometimes ignobly but he lov'd his Art | Q |
| I grant you freely that he sought his Ends | R |
| Not always wisely but he lov'd his Friends | R |
| And who of Friends a nobler Roll could show | A |
| Swift St John Bathurst Marchmont Peterb'ro' | F |
| Arbuthnot | S |
| - | |
| FR ATTICUS | T |
| - | |
| P Well entre nous | U |
| Most that he said of Addison was true | F |
| Plain Truth you know | A |
| - | |
| FR Is often not polite | O |
| So Hamlet thought | V |
| - | |
| P And Hamlet Sir was right | O |
| But leave POPE'S Life To day methinks we touch | W |
| The Work too little and the Man too much | W |
| Take up the Lock the Satires Eloise | X |
| What Art supreme what Elegance what Ease | K |
| How keen the Irony the Wit how bright | O |
| The Style how rapid and the Verse how light | O |
| Then read once more and you shall wonder yet | Y |
| At Skill at Turn at Point at Epithet | Y |
| True Wit is Nature to Advantage dress'd | Z |
| Was ever Thought so pithily express'd | Z |
| And ten low Words oft creep in one dull Line | A2 |
| Ah what a Homily on Yours and Mine | A2 |
| Or take to choose at Random take but This | B2 |
| Ten censure wrong for one that writes amiss | B2 |
| - | |
| FR Pack'd and precise no Doubt Yet surely those | C2 |
| Are but the Qualities we ask of Prose | C2 |
| Was he a POET | S |
| - | |
| P Yes if that be what | S |
| Byron was certainly and Bowles was not | D2 |
| Or say you grant him to come nearer Date | E2 |
| What Dryden had that was denied to Tate | E2 |
| - | |
| FR Which means you claim for him the Spark divine | A2 |
| Yet scarce would place him on the highest Line | A2 |
| - | |
| P True there are Classes POPE was most of all | G |
| Akin to Horace Persius Juvenal | G |
| POPE was like them the Censor of his Age | F2 |
| An Age more suited to Repose than Rage | F2 |
| When Rhyming turn'd from Freedom to the Schools | G2 |
| And shock'd with Licence shudder'd into Rules | G2 |
| When Phoebus touch'd the Poet's trembling Ear | F |
| With one supreme Commandment Be thou Clear | F |
| When Thought meant less to reason than compile | G |
| And the Muse labour'd chiefly with the File | G |
| Beneath full Wigs no Lyric drew its Breath | H2 |
| As in the Days of great ELIZABETH | I2 |
| And to the Bards of ANNA was denied | J2 |
| The Note that Wordsworth heard on Duddon side | J2 |
| But POPE took up his Parable and knit | K2 |
| The Woof of Wisdom with the Warp of Wit | K2 |
| He trimm'd the Measure on its equal Feet | L2 |
| And smooth'd and fitted till the Line was neat | L2 |
| He taught the Pause with due Effect to fall | G |
| He taught the Epigram to come at Call | G |
| He wrote | M2 |
| - | |
| FR His Iliad | N2 |
| - | |
| P Well suppose you own | O2 |
| You like your Iliad in the Prose of Bohn | O2 |
| Tho' if you'd learn in Prose how Homer sang | B |
| 'Twere best to learn of Butcher and of Lang | B |
| Suppose you say your Worst of POPE declare | F |
| His Jewels Paste his Nature a Parterre | F |
| His Art but Artifice I ask once more | F |
| Where have you seen such Artifice before | F |
| Where have you seen a Parterre better grac'd | P2 |
| Or gems that glitter like his Gems of Paste | P2 |
| Where can you show among your Names of Note | M2 |
| So much to copy and so much to quote | M2 |
| And where in Fine in all our English Verse | Q2 |
| A Style more trenchant and a Sense more terse | Q2 |
| - | |
| So I that love the old Augustan Days | R2 |
| Of formal Courtesies and formal Phrase | R2 |
| That like along the finish'd Line to feel | G |
| The Ruffle's Flutter and the Flash of Steel | G |
| That like my Couplet as compact as clear | F |
| That like my Satire sparkling tho' severe | F |
| Unmix'd with Bathos and unmarr'd by Trope | C |
| I fling my Cap for Polish and for POPE | C |
Henry Austin Dobson
(1)
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About A Dialogue To The Memory Of Mr. Alexander Pope
A Dialogue To The Memory Of Mr. Alexander Pope is a poem by Henry Austin Dobson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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