To My Friend Mr Motteux,[1] On His Tragedy Called "beauty In Distress." Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFGHHIIJJKK GGLMNNKKOOPPGGGQQKKR STTUUVVQQKKWXKK| 'Tis hard my friend to write in such an age | A |
| As damns not only poets but the stage | A |
| That sacred art by Heaven itself infused | B |
| Which Moses David Solomon have used | B |
| Is now to be no more the Muses' foes | C |
| Would sink their Maker's praises into prose | C |
| Were they content to prune the lavish vine | D |
| Of straggling branches and improve the wine | D |
| Who but a madman would his thoughts defend | E |
| All would submit for all but fools will mend | E |
| But when to common sense they give the lie | F |
| And turn distorted words to blasphemy | G |
| They give the scandal and the wise discern | H |
| Their glosses teach an age too apt to learn | H |
| What I have loosely or profanely writ | I |
| Let them to fires their due desert commit | I |
| Nor when accused by me let them complain | J |
| Their faults and not their function I arraign | J |
| Rebellion worse than witchcraft they pursued | K |
| The pulpit preach'd the crime the people rued | K |
| The stage was silenced for the saints would see | G |
| In fields perform'd their plotted tragedy | G |
| But let us first reform and then so live | L |
| That we may teach our teachers to forgive | M |
| Our desk be placed below their lofty chairs | N |
| Ours be the practice as the precept theirs | N |
| The moral part at least we may divide | K |
| Humility reward and punish pride | K |
| Ambition interest avarice accuse | O |
| These are the province of a tragic Muse | O |
| These hast thou chosen and the public voice | P |
| Has equall'd thy performance with thy choice | P |
| Time action place are so preserved by thee | G |
| That even Corn ille might with envy see | G |
| The alliance of his tripled Unity | G |
| Thy incidents perhaps too thick are sown | Q |
| But too much plenty is thy fault alone | Q |
| At least but two can that good crime commit | K |
| Thou in design and Wycherly in wit | K |
| Let thy own Gauls condemn thee if they dare | R |
| Contented to be thinly regular | S |
| Born there but not for them our fruitful soil | T |
| With more increase rewards thy happy toil | T |
| Their tongue enfeebled is refined too much | U |
| And like pure gold it bends at every touch | U |
| Our sturdy Teuton yet will art obey | V |
| More fit for manly thought and strengthen'd with allay | V |
| But whence art thou inspired and thou alone | Q |
| To flourish in an idiom not thy own | Q |
| It moves our wonder that a foreign guest | K |
| Should over match the most and match the best | K |
| In under praising thy deserts I wrong | W |
| Here find the first deficience of our tongue | X |
| Words once my stock are wanting to commend | K |
| So great a poet and so good a friend | K |
John Dryden
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About To My Friend Mr Motteux,[1] On His Tragedy Called "beauty In Distress."
To My Friend Mr Motteux,[1] On His Tragedy Called "beauty In Distress." is a poem by John Dryden. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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