To My Honoured Friend Sir Robert Howard,[1] On His Excellent Poems Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGHIIJKHH LLMMNNOPJJQQRRSSTTUU VVTTWXYYGGZZA2A2B2B2 UUTTC2ND2D2E2E2BBF2F 2TTG2G2DDLLH2H2I2I2J 2J2K2K2BBL2M2N2O2P2P 2LLK2K2GGFBQ2Q2R2R2As there is music uninform'd by art | A |
In those wild notes which with a merry heart | A |
The birds in unfrequented shades express | B |
Who better taught at home yet please us less | B |
So in your verse a native sweetness dwells | C |
Which shames composure and its art excels | C |
Singing no more can your soft numbers grace | D |
Than paint adds charms unto a beauteous face | D |
Yet as when mighty rivers gently creep | E |
Their even calmness does suppose them deep | E |
Such is your muse no metaphor swell'd high | F |
With dangerous boldness lifts her to the sky | F |
Those mounting fancies when they fall again | G |
Show sand and dirt at bottom do remain | H |
So firm a strength and yet withal so sweet | I |
Did never but in Samson's riddle meet | I |
'Tis strange each line so great a weight should bear | J |
And yet no sign of toil no sweat appear | K |
Either your art hides art as Stoics feign | H |
Then least to feel when most they suffer pain | H |
And we dull souls admire but cannot see | L |
What hidden springs within the engine be | L |
Or 'tis some happiness that still pursues | M |
Each act and motion of your graceful muse | M |
Or is it fortune's work that in your head | N |
The curious net that is for fancies spread | N |
Lets through its meshes every meaner thought | O |
While rich ideas there are only caught | P |
Sure that's not all this is a piece too fair | J |
To be the child of chance and not of care | J |
No atoms casually together hurl'd | Q |
Could e'er produce so beautiful a world | Q |
Nor dare I such a doctrine here admit | R |
As would destroy the providence of wit | R |
'Tis your strong genius then which does not feel | S |
Those weights would make a weaker spirit reel | S |
To carry weight and run so lightly too | T |
Is what alone your Pegasus can do | T |
Great Hercules himself could ne'er do more | U |
Than not to feel those heavens and gods he bore | U |
Your easier odes which for delight were penn'd | V |
Yet our instruction make their second end | V |
We're both enrich'd and pleased like them that woo | T |
At once a beauty and a fortune too | T |
Of moral knowledge poesy was queen | W |
And still she might had wanton wits not been | X |
Who like ill guardians lived themselves at large | Y |
And not content with that debauch'd their charge | Y |
Like some brave captain your successful pen | G |
Restores the exiled to her crown again | G |
And gives us hope that having seen the days | Z |
When nothing flourish'd but fanatic bays | Z |
All will at length in this opinion rest | A2 |
A sober prince's government is best | A2 |
This is not all your art the way has found | B2 |
To make the improvement of the richest ground | B2 |
That soil which those immortal laurels bore | U |
That once the sacred Maro's temples wore | U |
Eliza's griefs are so express'd by you | T |
They are too eloquent to have been true | T |
Had she so spoke neas had obey'd | C2 |
What Dido rather than what Jove had said | N |
If funeral rites can give a ghost repose | D2 |
Your Muse so justly has discharged those | D2 |
Eliza's shade may now its wandering cease | E2 |
And claim a title to the fields of peace | E2 |
But if neas be obliged no less | B |
Your kindness great Achilles doth confess | B |
Who dress'd by Statius in too bold a look | F2 |
Did ill become those virgin robes he took | F2 |
To understand how much we owe to you | T |
We must your numbers with your author's view | T |
Then we shall see his work was lamely rough | G2 |
Each figure stiff as if design'd in buff | G2 |
His colours laid so thick on every place | D |
As only show'd the paint but hid the face | D |
But as in perspective we beauties see | L |
Which in the glass not in the picture be | L |
So here our sight obligingly mistakes | H2 |
That wealth which his your bounty only makes | H2 |
Thus vulgar dishes are by cooks disguised | I2 |
More for their dressing than their substance prized | I2 |
Your curious notes so search into that age | J2 |
When all was fable but the sacred page | J2 |
That since in that dark night we needs must stray | K2 |
We are at least misled in pleasant way | K2 |
But what we most admire your verse no less | B |
The prophet than the poet doth confess | B |
Ere our weak eyes discern'd the doubtful streak | L2 |
Of light you saw great Charles his morning break | M2 |
So skilful seamen ken the land from far | N2 |
Which shows like mists to the dull passenger | O2 |
To Charles your Muse first pays her duteous love | P2 |
As still the ancients did begin from Jove | P2 |
With Monk you end whose name preserved shall be | L |
As Rome recorded Rufus' memory | L |
Who thought it greater honour to obey | K2 |
His country's interest than the world to sway | K2 |
But to write worthy things of worthy men | G |
Is the peculiar talent of your pen | G |
Yet let me take your mantle up and I | F |
Will venture in your right to prophesy | B |
This work by merit first of fame secure | Q2 |
Is likewise happy in its geniture | Q2 |
For since 'tis born when Charles ascends the throne | R2 |
It shares at once his fortune and its own | R2 |
John Dryden
(1)
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