The Student's Second Tale - The Wayside Inn - Part Second Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A ABBAACCAAC DDEFFEEAAEGHFHGF IJIJADDBAAKKBIALL AAAAMNNM OOPPQQRR SAAAAATAATDRCICNNIC ACCAAAAC CCTCIITUCCUAAAVCCVWV WXX VVIVVIIVCCVVAAVCDCC CCCCCACAC CXIXCCIYYACCA CCCCCCIICCNNI CAACZZCAACACCCC AA2A2AAAA CB2CCCCCB2 CCCCAAFFVVVVVCIIC TCTCFFWVVW IAAVVICCC2CC2VVXAC2X AD2D2 CCVVCCVVV VVVCE2CE2CIICF2G2VVC CVCCCC CICIVCVCAAIIVC ZCZCH2H2C2C2AAAAA A CCCCCCCCAACVVCC CC2CCCC2CCAA I2AAI2XJ2CCXJ2 TICTICTHE BARON OF ST CASTINE | A |
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Baron Castine of St Castine | A |
Has left his chateau in the Pyrenees | B |
And sailed across the western seas | B |
When he went away from his fair demesne | A |
The birds were building the woods were green | A |
And now the winds of winter blow | C |
Round the turrets of the old chateau | C |
The birds are silent and unseen | A |
The leaves lie dead in the ravine | A |
And the Pyrenees are white with snow | C |
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His father lonely old and gray | D |
Sits by the fireside day by day | D |
Thinking ever one thought of care | E |
Through the southern windows narrow and tall | F |
The sun shines into the ancient hall | F |
And makes a glory round his hair | E |
The house dog stretched beneath his chair | E |
Groans in his sleep as if in pain | A |
Then wakes and yawns and sleeps again | A |
So silent is it everywhere | E |
So silent you can hear the mouse | G |
Run and rummage along the beams | H |
Behind the wainscot of the wall | F |
And the old man rouses from his dreams | H |
And wanders restless through the house | G |
As if he heard strange voices call | F |
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His footsteps echo along the floor | I |
Of a distant passage and pause awhile | J |
He is standing by an open door | I |
Looking long with a sad sweet smile | J |
Into the room of his absent son | A |
There is the bed on which he lay | D |
There are the pictures bright and gay | D |
Horses and hounds and sun lit seas | B |
There are his powder flask and gun | A |
And his hunting knives in shape of a fan | A |
The chair by the window where he sat | K |
With the clouded tiger skin for a mat | K |
Looking out on the Pyrenees | B |
Looking out on Mount Marbore | I |
And the Seven Valleys of Lavedan | A |
Ah me he turns away and sighs | L |
There is a mist before his eyes | L |
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At night whatever the weather be | A |
Wind or rain or starry heaven | A |
Just as the clock is striking seven | A |
Those who look from the windows see | A |
The village Curate with lantern and maid | M |
Come through the gateway from the park | N |
And cross the courtyard damp and dark | N |
A ring of light in a ring of shade | M |
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And now at the old man's side he stands | O |
His voice is cheery his heart expands | O |
He gossips pleasantly by the blaze | P |
Of the fire of fagots about old days | P |
And Cardinal Mazarin and the Fronde | Q |
And the Cardinal's nieces fair and fond | Q |
And what they did and what they said | R |
When they heard his Eminence was dead | R |
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And after a pause the old man says | S |
His mind still coming back again | A |
To the one sad thought that haunts his brain | A |
Are there any tidings from over sea | A |
Ah why has that wild boy gone from me | A |
And the Curate answers looking down | A |
Harmless and docile as a lamb | T |
Young blood young blood It must so be | A |
And draws from the pocket of his gown | A |
A handkerchief like an oriflamb | T |
And wipes his spectacles and they play | D |
Their little game of lansquenet | R |
In silence for an hour or so | C |
Till the clock at nine strikes loud and clear | I |
From the village lying asleep below | C |
And across the courtyard into the dark | N |
Of the winding pathway in the park | N |
Curate and lantern disappear | I |
And darkness reigns in the old chateau | C |
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The ship has come back from over sea | A |
She has been signalled from below | C |
And into the harbor of Bordeaux | C |
She sails with her gallant company | A |
But among them is nowhere seen | A |
The brave young Baron of St Castine | A |
He hath tarried behind I ween | A |
In the beautiful land of Acadie | C |
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And the father paces to and fro | C |
Through the chambers of the old chateau | C |
Waiting waiting to hear the hum | T |
Of wheels on the road that runs below | C |
Of servants hurrying here and there | I |
The voice in the courtyard the step on the stair | I |
Waiting for some one who doth not come | T |
But letters there are which the old man reads | U |
To the Curate when he comes at night | C |
Word by word as an acolyte | C |
Repeats his prayers and tells his beads | U |
Letters full of the rolling sea | A |
Full of a young man's joy to be | A |
Abroad in the world alone and free | A |
Full of adventures and wonderful scenes | V |
Of hunting the deer through forests vast | C |
In the royal grant of Pierre du Gast | C |
Of nights in the tents of the Tarratines | V |
Of Madocawando the Indian chief | W |
And his daughters glorious as queens | V |
And beautiful beyond belief | W |
And so soft the tones of their native tongue | X |
The words are not spoken they are sung | X |
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And the Curate listens and smiling says | V |
Ah yes dear friend in our young days | V |
We should have liked to hunt the deer | I |
All day amid those forest scenes | V |
And to sleep in the tents of the Tarratines | V |
But now it is better sitting here | I |
Within four walls and without the fear | I |
Of losing our hearts to Indian queens | V |
For man is fire and woman is tow | C |
And the Somebody comes and begins to blow | C |
Then a gleam of distrust and vague surmise | V |
Shines in the father's gentle eyes | V |
As fire light on a window pane | A |
Glimmers and vanishes again | A |
But naught he answers he only sighs | V |
And for a moment bows his head | C |
Then as their custom is they play | D |
Their little gain of lansquenet | C |
And another day is with the dead | C |
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Another day and many a day | C |
And many a week and month depart | C |
When a fatal letter wings its way | C |
Across the sea like a bird of prey | C |
And strikes and tears the old man's heart | C |
Lo the young Baron of St Castine | A |
Swift as the wind is and as wild | C |
Has married a dusky Tarratine | A |
Has married Madocawando's child | C |
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The letter drops from the father's hand | C |
Though the sinews of his heart are wrung | X |
He utters no cry he breathes no prayer | I |
No malediction falls from his tongue | X |
But his stately figure erect and grand | C |
Bends and sinks like a column of sand | C |
In the whirlwind of his great despair | I |
Dying yes dying His latest breath | Y |
Of parley at the door of death | Y |
Is a blessing on his wayward son | A |
Lower and lower on his breast | C |
Sinks his gray head he is at rest | C |
No longer he waits for any one | A |
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For many a year the old chateau | C |
Lies tenantless and desolate | C |
Rank grasses in the courtyard grow | C |
About its gables caws the crow | C |
Only the porter at the gate | C |
Is left to guard it and to wait | C |
The coming of the rightful heir | I |
No other life or sound is there | I |
No more the Curate comes at night | C |
No more is seen the unsteady light | C |
Threading the alleys of the park | N |
The windows of the hall are dark | N |
The chambers dreary cold and bare | I |
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At length at last when the winter is past | C |
And birds are building and woods are green | A |
With flying skirts is the Curate seen | A |
Speeding along the woodland way | C |
Humming gayly No day is so long | Z |
But it comes at last to vesper song | Z |
He stops at the porter's lodge to say | C |
That at last the Baron of St Castine | A |
Is coming home with his Indian queen | A |
Is coming without a week's delay | C |
And all the house must be swept and clean | A |
And all things set in good array | C |
And the solemn porter shakes his head | C |
And the answer he makes is Lackaday | C |
We will see as the blind man said | C |
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Alert since first the day began | A |
The cock upon the village church | A2 |
Looks northward from his airy perch | A2 |
As if beyond the ken of man | A |
To see the ships come sailing on | A |
And pass the isle of Oleron | A |
And pass the Tower of Cordouan | A |
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In the church below is cold in clay | C |
The heart that would have leaped for joy | B2 |
O tender heart of truth and trust | C |
To see the coming of that day | C |
In the church below the lips are dust | C |
Dust are the hands and dust the feet | C |
That would have been so swift to meet | C |
The coming of that wayward boy | B2 |
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At night the front of the old chateau | C |
Is a blaze of light above and below | C |
There's a sound of wheels and hoofs in the street | C |
A cracking of whips and scamper of feet | C |
Bells are ringing and horns are blown | A |
And the Baron hath come again to his own | A |
The Curate is waiting in the hall | F |
Most eager and alive of all | F |
To welcome the Baron and Baroness | V |
But his mind is full of vague distress | V |
For he hath read in Jesuit books | V |
Of those children of the wilderness | V |
And now good simple man he looks | V |
To see a painted savage stride | C |
Into the room with shoulders bare | I |
And eagle feathers in her hair | I |
And around her a robe of panther's hide | C |
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Instead he beholds with secret shame | T |
A form of beauty undefined | C |
A loveliness with out a name | T |
Not of degree but more of kind | C |
Nor bold nor shy nor short nor tall | F |
But a new mingling of them all | F |
Yes beautiful beyond belief | W |
Transfigured and transfused he sees | V |
The lady of the Pyrenees | V |
The daughter of the Indian chief | W |
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Beneath the shadow of her hair | I |
The gold bronze color of the skin | A |
Seems lighted by a fire within | A |
As when a burst of sunlight shines | V |
Beneath a sombre grove of pines | V |
A dusky splendor in the air | I |
The two small hands that now are pressed | C |
In his seem made to be caressed | C |
They lie so warm and soft and still | C2 |
Like birds half hidden in a nest | C |
Trustful and innocent of ill | C2 |
And ah he cannot believe his ears | V |
When her melodious voice he hears | V |
Speaking his native Gascon tongue | X |
The words she utters seem to be | A |
Part of some poem of Goudouli | C2 |
They are not spoken they are sung | X |
And the Baron smiles and says You see | A |
I told you but the simple truth | D2 |
Ah you may trust the eyes of youth | D2 |
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Down in the village day by day | C |
The people gossip in their way | C |
And stare to see the Baroness pass | V |
On Sunday morning to early Mass | V |
And when she kneeleth down to pray | C |
They wonder and whisper together and say | C |
Surely this is no heathen lass | V |
And in course of time they learn to bless | V |
The Baron and the Baroness | V |
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And in course of time the Curate learns | V |
A secret so dreadful that by turns | V |
He is ice and fire he freezes and burns | V |
The Baron at confession hath said | C |
That though this woman be his wife | E2 |
He bath wed her as the Indians wed | C |
He hath bought her for a gun and a knife | E2 |
And the Curate replies O profligate | C |
O Prodigal Son return once more | I |
To the open arms and the open door | I |
Of the Church or ever it be too late | C |
Thank God thy father did not live | F2 |
To see what he could not forgive | G2 |
On thee so reckless and perverse | V |
He left his blessing not his curse | V |
But the nearer the dawn the darker the night | C |
And by going wrong all things come right | C |
Things have been mended that were worse | V |
And the worse the nearer they are to mend | C |
For the sake of the living and the dead | C |
Thou shalt be wed as Christians wed | C |
And all things come to a happy end | C |
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O sun that followest the night | C |
In yon blue sky serene and pure | I |
And pourest thine impartial light | C |
Alike on mountain and on moor | I |
Pause for a moment in thy course | V |
And bless the bridegroom and the bride | C |
O Gave that from thy hidden source | V |
In you mysterious mountain side | C |
Pursuest thy wandering way alone | A |
And leaping down its steps of stone | A |
Along the meadow lands demure | I |
Stealest away to the Adour | I |
Pause for a moment in thy course | V |
To bless the bridegroom and the bride | C |
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The choir is singing the matin song | Z |
The doors of the church are opened wide | C |
The people crowd and press and throng | Z |
To see the bridegroom and the bride | C |
They enter and pass along the nave | H2 |
They stand upon the father's grave | H2 |
The bells are ringing soft and slow | C2 |
The living above and the dead below | C2 |
Give their blessing on one and twain | A |
The warm wind blows from the hills of Spain | A |
The birds are building the leaves are green | A |
And Baron Castine of St Castine | A |
Hath come at last to his own again | A |
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FINALE | A |
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Nunc plaudite the Student cried | C |
When he had finished now applaud | C |
As Roman actors used to say | C |
At the conclusion of a play | C |
And rose and spread his hands abroad | C |
And smiling bowed from side to side | C |
As one who bears the palm away | C |
And generous was the applause and loud | C |
But less for him than for the sun | A |
That even as the tale was done | A |
Burst from its canopy of cloud | C |
And lit the landscape with the blaze | V |
Of afternoon on autumn days | V |
And filled the room with light and made | C |
The fire of logs a painted shade | C |
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A sudden wind from out the west | C |
Blew all its trumpets loud and shrill | C2 |
The windows rattled with the blast | C |
The oak trees shouted as it passed | C |
And straight as if by fear possessed | C |
The cloud encampment on the hill | C2 |
Broke up and fluttering flag and tent | C |
Vanished into the firmament | C |
And down the valley fled amain | A |
The rear of the retreating rain | A |
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Only far up in the blue sky | I2 |
A mass of clouds like drifted snow | A |
Suffused with a faint Alpine glow | A |
Was heaped together vast and high | I2 |
On which a shattered rainbow hung | X |
Not rising like the ruined arch | J2 |
Of some aerial aqueduct | C |
But like a roseate garland plucked | C |
From an Olympian god and flung | X |
Aside in his triumphal march | J2 |
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Like prisoners from their dungeon gloom | T |
Like birds escaping from a snare | I |
Like school boys at the hour of play | C |
All left at once the pent up room | T |
And rushed into the open air | I |
And no more tales were told that day | C |
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1)
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