The Rebel Scot Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEFFGGHHAAHHIJ KKLMHHHHNNOOPPLL JJQOIIHHFFRBSSHHTUHH VVHHHHWXYHYHZZHHA2A2 HHHHHH B2MFFHH C2C2H D2D2E2F2 ZZG2H2I2J2 K2K2L2L2HHM2M2N2N2O2 JP2P2P2P2Q2Q2R2S2P2P 2P2P2P2P2| How Providence and yet a Scottish crew | A |
| Then Madam Nature wears black patches too | A |
| What shall our nation be in bondage thus | B |
| Unto a land that truckles under us | B |
| Ring the bells backward I am all on fire | C |
| Not all the buckets in a country quire | D |
| Shall quench my rage A poet should be feared | E |
| When angry like a comet's flaming beard | E |
| And where's the stoic can his wrath appease | F |
| To see his country sick of Pym's disease | F |
| By Scotch invasion to be made a prey | G |
| To such pigwidgeon myrmidons as they | G |
| But that there's charm in verse I would not quote | H |
| The name of Scot without an antidote | H |
| Unless my head were red that I might brew | A |
| Invention there that might be poison too | A |
| Were I a drowsy judge whose dismal note | H |
| Disgorgeth halters as a juggler's throat | H |
| Doth ribbons could I in Sir Empiric's tone | I |
| Speak pills in phrase and quack destruction | J |
| Or roar like Marshall that Geneva bull | K |
| Hell and damnation a pulpit full | K |
| Yet to express a Scot to play that prize | L |
| Not all those mouth grenadoes can suffice | M |
| Before a Scot can properly be curst | H |
| I must like Hocus swallow daggers first | H |
| Come keen iambics with your badger's feet | H |
| And badger like bite till your teeth do meet | H |
| Help ye tart satirists to imp my rage | N |
| With all the scorpions that should whip this age | N |
| Scots are like witches do but whet your pen | O |
| Scratch till the blood come they'll not hurt you then | O |
| Now as the martyrs were enforced to take | P |
| The shape of beasts like hypocrites at stake | P |
| I'll bait my Scot so yet not cheat your eyes | L |
| A Scot within a beast is no disguise | L |
| - | |
| No more let Ireland brag her harmless nation | J |
| Fosters no venom since the Scot's plantation | J |
| Nor can our feigned antiquity obtain | Q |
| Since they came in England hath wolves again | O |
| The Scot that kept the Tower might have shown | I |
| Within the grate of his own breast alone | I |
| The leopard and the panther and engrossed | H |
| What all those wild collegiates had cost | H |
| The honest high shoes in their termly fees | F |
| First to the salvage lawyer next to these | F |
| Nature herself doth Scotchmen beasts confess | R |
| Making their country such a wilderness | B |
| A land that brings in question and suspense | S |
| God's omnipresence but that Charles came thence | S |
| But that Montrose and Crawford's loyal band | H |
| Atoned their sin and christened half their land | H |
| Nor is it all the nation hath these sports | T |
| There is a Church as well as Kirk of Scots | U |
| As in a picture where the squinting paint | H |
| Shows fiend on this side and on that side saint | H |
| He that saw hell in's melancholy dream | V |
| And in the twilight of his fancy's theme | V |
| Scared from his sins repented in a fright | H |
| Had he viewed Scotland had turned proselyte | H |
| A land where one may pray with curst intent | H |
| Oh may they never suffer banishment | H |
| Had Cain been Scot God would have changed his doom | W |
| Not forced him wander but confined him home | X |
| Like Jews they spread and as infection fly | Y |
| As if the devil had ubiquity | H |
| Hence 'tis they live at rovers and defy | Y |
| This or that place rags of geography | H |
| They're citizens of the world they're all in all | Z |
| Scotland's a nation epidemical | Z |
| And yet they ramble not to learn the mode | H |
| How to be dressed or how to lisp abroad | H |
| To return knowing in the Spanish shrug | A2 |
| Or which of the Dutch states a double jug | A2 |
| Resembles most in belly or in beard | H |
| The card by which the mariners are steered | H |
| No the Scots errant fight and fight to eat | H |
| Their ostrich stomachs make their swords their meat | H |
| Nature with Scots as tooth drawers hath dealt | H |
| Who use to string their teeth upon their belt | H |
| - | |
| Yet wonder not at this their happy choice | B2 |
| The serpent's fatal still to Paradise | M |
| Sure England hath the hemorrhoids and these | F |
| On the north postern of the patient seize | F |
| Like leeches thus they physically thirst | H |
| After our blood but in the cure shall burst | H |
| - | |
| Let them not think to make us run o' the score | C2 |
| To purchase villenage as once before | C2 |
| Call them good subjects buy them gingerbread | H |
| - | |
| Not gold nor acts of grace 'tis steel must tame | D2 |
| The stubborn Scot a prince that would reclaim | D2 |
| Rebels by yielding doth like him or worse | E2 |
| Who saddled his own back to shame his horse | F2 |
| - | |
| Was it for this you left your leaner soil | Z |
| Thus to lard Israel with Egypt's spoil | Z |
| They are the Gospel's life guard but for them | G2 |
| The garrison of New Jerusalem | H2 |
| What would the brethren do The Cause The Cause | I2 |
| Sack possets and the fundamental laws | J2 |
| - | |
| Lord What a godly thing is want of shirts | K2 |
| How a Scotch stomach and no meat converts | K2 |
| They wanted food and raiment so they took | L2 |
| Religion for their seamstress and their cook | L2 |
| Unmask them well their honors and estate | H |
| As well as conscience are sophisticate | H |
| Shrive but their titles and their moneys poise | M2 |
| A laird and twenty pence pronounced with noise | M2 |
| When contrued but for a plain yeoman go | N2 |
| And a good sober twopence and well so | N2 |
| Hence then you proud impostors get you gone | O2 |
| You Picts in gentry and devotion | J |
| You scandal to the stock of verse a race | P2 |
| Able to bring the gibbet in disgrace | P2 |
| Hyperbolus by suffering did traduce | P2 |
| The ostracism and shamed it out of use | P2 |
| The Indian that Heaven did forswear | Q2 |
| Because he heard some Spaniards were there | Q2 |
| Had he but known what Scots in hell had been | R2 |
| He would Erasmus like have hung between | S2 |
| My Muse hath done A voider for the nonce | P2 |
| I wrong the devil should I pick their bones | P2 |
| That dish is his for when the Scots decease | P2 |
| Hell like their nation feeds on barnacles | P2 |
| A Scot when from the gallow tree got loose | P2 |
| Drops into Styx and turns a solan goose | P2 |
John Cleveland
(1)
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About The Rebel Scot
The Rebel Scot is a poem by John Cleveland. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.