Rural Sports: A Georgic - Canto I. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEE FFFFFFGGHHIIAADDJJKK LL FFMMFFNO FFPPFFDDQQRRDD KKRRSSTUVVFFFF KKKKWWXXYYFFMMKKLLKK FFKK FFFFQZKKFFKKYYFF KKKKNOKKKKKKKK A2A2KKKKRRKKNNB2B2 MMFFKKKKC2C2FFFF KKFFFFTTKK KKKKFFKKKKWW KKFFB2| You who the sweets of rural life have known | A |
| Despise the ungrateful hurry of the town | B |
| In Windsor groves your easy hours employ | C |
| And undistub'd yourself and muse enjoy | C |
| Thames listens to thy strains and silent flows | D |
| And no rude winds through rustling osiers blows | D |
| While all his wondering nymphs around thee throng | E |
| To hear the Syrens warble in thy song | E |
| - | |
| But I who ne'er was bless'd by fortune's hand | F |
| Nor brighten'd plough shares in paternal land | F |
| Long in the noisy town have been immur'd | F |
| Respir'd its smoke and all its cares endur'd | F |
| Where news and politics divide mankind | F |
| And schemes of state involve the uneasy mind | F |
| Faction embroils the world and every tongue | G |
| Is mov'd by flattery or with scandal hung | G |
| Friendship for sylvan shades the palace flies | H |
| Where all must yield to interest's dearer ties | H |
| Each rival Machiavel with envy burns | I |
| And honesty forsakes them all by turns | I |
| While calumny upon each party's thrown | A |
| Which both promote and both alike disown | A |
| Fatigu'd at last a calm retreat I chose | D |
| And sooth'd my harass'd mind with sweet repose | D |
| Where fields and shades and the refreshing clime | J |
| Inspire my silvan song and prompt my rhyme | J |
| My muse shall rove through flowery meads and plains | K |
| And deck with rural sports her native strains | K |
| And the same road ambitiously pursue | L |
| Frequented by the Mantuan swain and you | L |
| - | |
| 'Tis not that rural sports alone invite | F |
| But all the grateful country breathes delight | F |
| Here blooming health exerts her gentle reign | M |
| And strings the sinews of the industrious swain | M |
| Soon as the morning lark salutes the day | F |
| Through dewy fields I take my frequent way | F |
| Where I behold the farmer's early care | N |
| In the revolving labours of the year | O |
| - | |
| When the fresh spring in all her state is crown'd | F |
| And high luxuriant grass o'erspreads the ground | F |
| The labourer with the bending scythe is seen | P |
| Shaving the surface of the waving green | P |
| Of all her native pride disrobes the land | F |
| And meads lays waste before the sweeping hand | F |
| While the mounting sun the meadow glows | D |
| The fading herbage round he loosely throws | D |
| But if some sign portend a lasting shower | Q |
| The experienc'd swain foresees the coming hour | Q |
| His sun burnt hands the scattering fork forsake | R |
| And ruddy damsels ply the saving rake | R |
| In rising hills the fragrant harvest grows | D |
| And spreads along the field in equal rows | D |
| - | |
| Now when the height of heaven bright Phoebus gains | K |
| And level rays cleave wide the thirsty plains | K |
| When heifers seek the shade and cooling lake | R |
| And in the middle path way basks the snake | R |
| O lead me guard me from the sultry hours | S |
| Hide me ye forests in your closet bowers | S |
| Where the tall oak his spreading arms entwine | T |
| And with the beech a mutual shade combines | U |
| Where flows the murmuring brook inviting dreams | V |
| Where bordering hazle overhangs the streams | V |
| Whose rolling current winding round and round | F |
| With frequent falls makes all the woods resound | F |
| Upon the mossy couch my limbs I cast | F |
| And even at noon the sweets of evening taste | F |
| - | |
| Here I peruse the Mantuan's Georgic strains | K |
| And learn the labours of Italian swains | K |
| In every page I see new landscapes rise | K |
| And all Hesperia opens to my eyes | K |
| I wander o'er the various rural toil | W |
| And know the nature of each different soil | W |
| This waving field is gilded o'er with corn | X |
| That spreading trees with blushing fruit adorn | X |
| Here I survey the purple vintage grow | Y |
| Climb round the poles and rise in graceful row | Y |
| Now I behold the steed curvet and bound | F |
| And paw with restless hoof the smoking ground | F |
| The dewlap'd bull now chaffs along the plain | M |
| While burning love ferments in every vein | M |
| His well arm'd front against his rival aims | K |
| And by the dint of war his mistress claims | K |
| The careful insect 'midst his works I view | L |
| Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew | L |
| With golden treasures load his little thighs | K |
| And steer his distant journey through the skies | K |
| Some against hostile drones the hive defend | F |
| Others with sweets the waxen cells distend | F |
| Each in the toil his destin'd office bears | K |
| And in the little bulk a mighty soul appears | K |
| - | |
| Or when the ploughman leaves the task of day | F |
| And trudging homeward whistles on the way | F |
| When the big udder'd cows with patience stand | F |
| Waiting the stroakings of the damsel's hand | F |
| No warbling cheers the woods the feather'd choir | Q |
| To court kind slumbers to their sprays retire | Z |
| When no rude gale disturbs the sleeping trees | K |
| Nor aspen leaves confess the gentlest breeze | K |
| Engag'd in thought to Neptune's bounds I stray | F |
| To take my farewell of the parting day | F |
| Far in the deep the sun his glory hides | K |
| A streak of gold the sea and sky divides | K |
| The purple clouds their amber lining show | Y |
| And edg'd with flame rolls every wave below | Y |
| Here pensive I behold the fading light | F |
| And o'er the distant billow lose my sight | F |
| - | |
| Now night in the silent state begins to rise | K |
| And twinkling orbs bestrow the uncloudy skies | K |
| Her borrow'd lustre growing Cynthia lends | K |
| And on the main a glittering path extends | K |
| Millions of worlds hang in the spacious air | N |
| Which round their suns the annual circles steer | O |
| Sweet contemplation elevates my sense | K |
| While I survey the works of Providence | K |
| O would the muse in loftier strains rehearse | K |
| The glorious Author of the universe | K |
| Who reins the winds gives the vast ocean bounds | K |
| And circumscribes the floating worlds their rounds | K |
| My soul should overflow in songs of praise | K |
| And my Creator's name inspire my lays | K |
| - | |
| As in successive course the seasons roll | A2 |
| So circling pleasures recreate the soul | A2 |
| When genial spring a living warmth bestows | K |
| And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws | K |
| No swelling inundation hides the grounds | K |
| But crystal currents glide within their bounds | K |
| The finny brood their wonted haunts forsake | R |
| Float in the sun and skim along the lake | R |
| With frequent leap they range the shallow streams | K |
| Their silver coats reflect the dazzling beams | K |
| Now let the fisherman his tolls prepare | N |
| And arm himself with every watery snare | N |
| His hooks his lines persue with careful eye | B2 |
| Increase his tackle and his rod re tie | B2 |
| - | |
| When floating clouds their spongy fleeces drain | M |
| Troubling the streams with swift descending rain | M |
| And waters tumbling down the mountain's side | F |
| Bear the loose soil into the swelling tide | F |
| Then soon as vernal gales begin to rise | K |
| And drive the liquid burthen through the skies | K |
| The fisher to the neighbouring current speeds | K |
| Whose rapid surface purls unknown to weeds | K |
| Upon a rising border of the brook | C2 |
| He sits him down and ties the treacherous hook | C2 |
| Now expectation cheers his eager thought | F |
| His bosom glows with treasures yet uncaught | F |
| Before his eyes a banquet seems to stand | F |
| Where every guest applauds his skilful hand | F |
| - | |
| Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws | K |
| Which down the murmuring current gently flows | K |
| When if or chance or hunger's powerful sway | F |
| Directs the roving trout this fatal way | F |
| He greedily sucks in the twining bait | F |
| And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat | F |
| Now happy fisherman now twitch the line | T |
| How thy rod bends behold the prize is thine | T |
| Cast on the bank he dies with gasping pains | K |
| And trickling blood his silver mail distains | K |
| - | |
| You must not every worm promiscuous use | K |
| Judgement will tell thee proper bait to choose | K |
| The worm that draws a long immoderate size | K |
| The trout abhors and the rank morsel flies | K |
| And if too small the naked fraud's in sight | F |
| And fear forbids while hunger does invite | F |
| Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains | K |
| Whose polish'd tails a shining yellow stains | K |
| Cleanse them from filth to give a tempting gloss | K |
| Cherish the sullied reptile race with moss | K |
| Amid the verdant bed they twine they toil | W |
| And from their bodies wipe their native soil | W |
| - | |
| But when the sun displays his glorious beams | K |
| And shallow rivers flow with silver streams | K |
| Then the deceit the scaly breed survey | F |
| Bask in the sun and look into the day | F |
| You now a more delusive art must try | B2 |
John Gay
(1)
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