The Departure. An Elegy. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBBBCCDDEEFFGGHHBB IIBBJJKKLLMMNNOPLLQQ AARRRRRRSSKRSSTTRRBB RR

VVere I to leave no more then a good friendA
Or but to hear the summons to my endA
Which I have long'd for I could then with easeB
Attire my grief in words and so appeaseB
That passion in my bosom which outgrowesB
The language of strict verse or largest proseB
But here I am quite lost writing to youC
All that I pen or think is forc't and newC
My faculties run cross and prove as weakD
T'indite this melancholly task as speakD
Indeed all words are vaine well might I spareE
This rendring of my tortur'd thoughts in ayreE
Or sighing paper My infectious griefF
Strikes inward and affords me no reliefF
But still a deeper wound to lose a sightG
More lov'd then health and dearer then the lightG
But all of us were not at the same timeH
Brought forth nor are we billited in one climeH
Nature hath pitch't mankind at several ratesB
Making our places diverse as our fatesB
Unto that universal law I bowI
Though with unwilling knee and do allowI
Her cruell justice which dispos'd us soB
That we must counter to our wishes goB
'Twas part of mans first curse which order'd wellJ
We should not alway with our likings dwellJ
'Tis onely the Triumphant Church where weK
Shall in unsever'd Neighbourhood agreeK
Go then best soul and where You must appearL
Restore the Day to that dull HemisphearL
Nere may the hapless Night You leave behindM
Darken the comforts of Your purer mindM
May all the blessings Wishes can inventN
Enrich your dayes and crown them with contentN
And though You travel down into the WestO
May Your lifes Sun stand fixed in the EastP
Far from the weeping set nor may my earL
Take in that killing whisper You once wereL
Thus kiss I your fair hands taking my leaveQ
As Prisoners at the Bar their doom receiveQ
All joyes go with You let sweet peace attendA
You on the way and wait Your journeys endA
But let Your discontents and sowrer fateR
Remain with me born off in my RetraitR
Might all your crosses in that sheet of leadR
Which folds my heavy heart lie buriedR
'Tis the last service I would do You and the bestR
My wishes ever meant or tongue profestR
Once more I take my leave And once for allS
Our parting shews so like a funerallS
It strikes my soul which hath most right to beK
Chief Mourner at this sad solemnitieR
And think not Dearest 'cause this parting knellS
Is rung in verses that at Your farewellS
I onely mourn in Poetry and InkT
No my Pens melancholy Plommets sinkT
So low they dive where th' hid affections sitR
Blotting that Paper where my mirth was writR
Believ't that sorrow truest is which liesB
Deep in the breast not floating in the eiesB
And he with saddest circumstance doth partR
Who seals his farewell with a bleeding heartR

Henry King



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