Elegy V. - Anno Aetates 20. - On The Approach Of Spring. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK LLMMDDNNOOPPIIBBQQJJ RROOSTUUVVOOWWXXYYMM AAZZA2B2RRNNC2C2D2D2 QQE2E2F2F2OOQQRRG2G2 MMJJG2G2D2D2WWAAE2E2 BCNNG2G2WWH2H2CBUI2C BQQJ2J2WWQQWWAAQQE2E 2K2K2L2L2M2M2

Time never wand'ring from his annual roundA
Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring and thaw the groundA
Bleak Winter flies new verdure clothes the plainB
And earth assumes her transient youth againC
Dream I or also to the Spring belongD
Increase of Genius and new pow'rs of songD
Spring gives them and how strange soere it seemE
Impels me now to some harmonious themeE
Castalia's fountain and the forked hillF
By day by night my raptur'd fancy fillF
My bosom burns and heaves I hear withinG
A sacred sound that prompts me to beginG
Lo Phoebus comes with his bright hair he blendsH
The radiant laurel wreath Phoebus descendsH
I mount and undepress'd by cumb'rous clayI
Through cloudy regions win my easy wayI
Rapt through poetic shadowy haunts I flyJ
The shrines all open to my dauntless eyeJ
My spirit searches all the realms of lightK
And no Tartarean gulphs elude my sightK
But this ecstatic trance this glorious stormL
Of inspiration what will it performL
Spring claims the verse that with his influence glowsM
And shall be paid with what himself bestowsM
Thou veil'd with op'ning foliage lead'st the throngD
Of feather'd minstrels Philomel in songD
Let us in concert to the season singN
Civic and sylvan heralds of the springN
With notes triumphant spring's approach declareO
To spring ye Muses annual tribute bearO
The Orient left and Aethiopia's plainsP
The Sun now northward turns his golden reinsP
Night creeps not now yet rules with gentle swayI
And drives her dusky horrors swift awayI
Now less fatigued on his aetherial plainB
Bootes follows his celestial wainB
And now the radiant centinels aboveQ
Less num'rous watch around the courts of JoveQ
For with the night Force Ambush Slaughter flyJ
And no gigantic guilt alarms the skyJ
Now haply says some shepherd while he viewsR
Recumbent on a rock the redd'ning dewsR
This night this surely Phoebus miss'd the fairO
Who stops his chariot by her am'rous careO
Cynthia delighted by the morning's glowS
Speeds to the woodland and resumes her bowT
Resigns her beams and glad to disappearU
Blesses his aid who shortens her careerU
Come Phoebus cries Aurora come too lateV
Thou linger'st slumb'ring with thy wither'd mateV
Leave Him and to Hymettus' top repairO
Thy darling Cephalus expects thee thereO
The goddess with a blush her love betraysW
But mounts and driving rapidly obeysW
Earth now desires thee Phoebus and t'engageX
Thy warm embrace casts off the guise of ageX
Desires thee and deserves for who so sweetY
When her rich bosom courts thy genial heatY
Her breath imparts to ev'ry breeze that blowsM
Arabia's harvest and the Paphian roseM
Her lofty front she diadems aroundA
With sacred pines like Ops on Ida crown'dA
Her dewy locks with various flow'rs new blownZ
She interweaves various and all her ownZ
For Proserpine in such a wreath attiredA2
Taenarian Dis himself with love inspiredB2
Fear not lest cold and coy the Nymph refuseR
Herself with all her sighing Zephyrs suesR
Each courts thee fanning soft his scented wingN
And all her groves with warbled wishes ringN
Nor unendow'd and indigent aspiresC2
Th'am'rous Earth to engage thy warm desiresC2
But rich in balmy drugs assists thy claimD2
Divine Physician to that glorious nameD2
If splendid recompense if gifts can moveQ
Desire in thee gifts often purchase loveQ
She offers all the wealth her mountains hideE2
And all that rests beneath the boundless tideE2
How oft when headlong from the heav'nly steepF2
She sees thee plunging in the Western DeepF2
How oft she cries Ah Phoebus why repairO
Thy wasted force why seek refreshment thereO
Can Tethys win thee wherefore should'st thou laveQ
A face so fair in her unpleasant waveQ
Come seek my green retreats and rather chuseR
To cool thy tresses in my chrystal dewsR
The grassy turf shall yield thee sweeter restG2
Come lay thy evening glories on my breastG2
And breathing fresh through many a humid roseM
Soft whisp'ring airs shall lull thee to reposeM
No fears I feel like Semele to dieJ
Nor lest thy burning wheels approach too nighJ
For thou can'st govern them Here therefore restG2
And lay thy evening glories on my breastG2
Thus breathes the wanton Earth her am'rous flameD2
And all her countless offspring feel the sameD2
For Cupid now through every region straysW
Bright'ning his faded fires with solar raysW
His new strung bow sends forth a deadlier soundA
And his new pointed shafts more deeply woundA
Nor Dian's self escapes him now untriedE2
Nor even Vesta at her altar sideE2
His mother too repairs her beauty's waneB
And seems sprung newly from the Deep againC
Exulting youths the Hymenaeal singN
With Hymen's name roofs rocks and valleys ringN
He new attired and by the season dress'dG2
Proceeds all fragrant in his saffron vestG2
Now many a golden cinctur'd virgin rovesW
To taste the pleasures of the fields and grovesW
All wish and each alike some fav'rite youthH2
Hers in the bonds of Hymenaeal truthH2
Now pipes the shepherd through his reeds againC
Nor Phyllis wants a song that suits the strainB
With songs the seaman hails the starry sphereU
And dolphins rise from the abyss to hearI2
Jove feels himself the season sports againC
With his fair spouse and banquets all his trainB
Now too the Satyrs in the dusk of EveQ
Their mazy dance through flow'ry meadows weaveQ
And neither God nor goat but both in kindJ2
Sylvanus wreath'd with cypress skips behindJ2
The Dryads leave the hollow sylvan cellsW
To roam the banks and solitary dellsW
Pan riots now and from his amorous chafeQ
Ceres and Cybele seem hardly safeQ
And Faunus all on fire to reach the prizeW
In chase of some enticing Oread fliesW
She bounds before but fears too swift a boundA
And hidden lies but wishes to be foundA
Our shades entice th'Immortals from aboveQ
And some kind Pow'r presides oter ev'ry groveQ
And long ye Pow'rs o'er ev'ry grove presideE2
For all is safe and blest where ye abideE2
Return O Jove the age of gold restoreK2
Why chose to dwell where storms and thunders roarK2
At least thou Phoebus moderate thy speedL2
Let not the vernal hours too swift proceedL2
Command rough Winter back nor yield the poleM2
Too soon to Night's encroaching long controlM2

John Milton



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