The 'squire At Vauxhall Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHHHIJ HHKK LLMMNOPPOOHHQQOORR RRSTHHQQBB UUOOHHQQCBOOVVHHBBOO RRRRQQRRBBUUHHHHWWXY QQHH QQQQ QQHH

Nothing so idle as to wasteA
This Life disputing upon TasteA
And most let that sad Truth be writtenB
In this contentious Land of BritainB
Where each one holds it seems to meC
Equivalent to Q E DC
And if you dare to doubt his WordD
Proclaims you Blockhead and absurdD
And then too often the DebateE
Is not 'twixt First and Second rateE
Some narrow Issue where a TouchF
Of more or less can't matter muchF
But and this makes the Case so sadG
Betwixt undoubted Good and BadG
Nay there are some so strangely wroughtH
So warped and twisted in their ThoughtH
That if the Fact be but confestH
They like the baser Thing the bestH
Take BOTTOM who for one 'tis clearI
Possessed a reasonable EarJ
He might have had at his CommandH
The Symphonies of Fairy LandH
Well our immortal SHAKESPEAR ownsK
The Oaf preferred the Tongs and BonesK
-
'Squire HOMESPUN from Clod Hall rode downL
As the Phrase is to see the TownL
The Town in those Days mostly layM
Betwixt the Tavern and the PlayM
Like all their Worships the J P 'sN
He put up at the HerculesO
Then sallied forth on Shanks his MareP
Rather than jolt it in a ChairP
A curst new fangled Little EaseO
That knocks your Nose against your KneesO
For the good 'Squire was Country bredH
And had strange Notions in his HeadH
Which made him see in every CurQ
The starveling Breed of HanoverQ
He classed your Kickshaws and RagoosO
With Popery and Wooden ShoesO
Railed at all Foreign Tongues as LingoR
And sighed o'er Chaos Wine for StingoR
-
Hence as he wandered to and froR
Nothing could please him high or lowR
As Savages at Ships of WarS
He looked unawed on Temple BarT
Scarce could conceal his DiscontentH
With Fish Street and the MonumentH
And might except at Feeding HourQ
Have scorned the Lion in the TowerQ
But that the Lion's Race was runB
And for the Moment there was noneB
-
At length blind Fate that drives us allU
Brought him at Even to VauxhallU
What Time the eager Matron jerksO
Her slow Spouse to the Water WorksO
And the coy Spinster half afraidH
Consults the Hermit in the ShadeH
Dazed with the Din and Crowd the 'SquireQ
Sank in a Seat before the ChoirQ
The FAUSTINETTA fair and showyC
Warbled an Air from ArsinoB
Playing her Bosom and her EyesO
As Swans do when they agonizeO
Alas to some a Mug of AleV
Is better than an Orphic TaleV
The 'Squire grew dull the 'Squire grew boredH
His chin dropt down he slept he snoredH
Then straying thro' the poppied ReignB
He dreamed him at Clod Hall againB
He heard once more the well known SoundsO
The Crack of Whip the Cry of HoundsO
-
He rubbed his Eyes woke up and loR
A Change had come upon the ShowR
Where late the Singer stood a FellowR
Clad in a Jockey's Coat of YellowR
Was mimicking a Cock that crewQ
Then came the Cry of Hounds anewQ
Yoicks Stole Away and harking backR
Then Ringwood leading up the PackR
The 'Squire in Transport slapped his KneeB
At this most hugeous PleasantryB
The sawn Wood followed last of allU
The Man brought something in a ShawlU
Something that struggled scraped and squeakedH
As Porkers do whose tails are tweakedH
Our honest 'Squire could scarcely sitH
So excellent he thought the WitH
But when Sir Wag drew off the SheathW
And showed there was no Pig beneathW
His pent up Wonder Pleasure AweX
Exploded in a long GuffawY
And to his dying Day he'd swearQ
That Naught in Town the Bell could bearQ
From Jockey wi' the Yellow CoatH
That had a Farm Yard in his ThroatH
-
MORAL THE FIRST you may discoverQ
The 'Squire was like TITANIA'S loverQ
He put a squeaking Pig beforeQ
The Harmony of CLAYTON'S ScoreQ
-
MORAL THE SECOND not so clearQ
But still it shall be added hereQ
He praised the Thing he understoodH
'Twere well if every Critic wouldH

Henry Austin Dobson



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