On The Death Of A Fair Infant Dying Of A Cough Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BCDEAFF A EGEGGGG A EEEEEHH GGGGGEE GIGIIJJ GEGEEGG C CCGG EKEKKGG H GGGGGEE H CHCHHGG H GGGGGI | A |
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O fairest flower no sooner blown but blasted | B |
Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie | C |
Summers chief honour if thou hadst outlasted | D |
Bleak winters force that made thy blossome drie | E |
For he being amorous on that lovely die | A |
That did thy cheek envermeil thought to kiss | F |
But kill'd alas and then bewayl'd his fatal bliss | F |
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II | A |
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For since grim Aquilo his charioter | E |
By boistrous rape th' Athenian damsel got | G |
He thought it toucht his Deitie full neer | E |
If likewise he some fair one wedded not | G |
Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot | G |
Of long uncoupled bed and childless eld | G |
Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was held | G |
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III | A |
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So mounting up in ycie pearled carr | E |
Through middle empire of the freezing aire | E |
He wanderd long till thee he spy'd from farr | E |
There ended was his quest there ceast his care | E |
Down he descended from his Snow soft chaire | E |
But all unwares with his cold kind embrace | H |
Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair hiding place | H |
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IV | - |
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Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate | G |
For so Apollo with unweeting hand | G |
Whilome did slay his dearly loved mate | G |
Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas' strand | G |
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land | G |
But then transform'd him to a purple flower | E |
Alack that so to change thee winter had no power | E |
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V | - |
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Yet can I not perswade me thou art dead | G |
Or that thy coarse corrupts in earths dark wombe | I |
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed | G |
Hid from the world in a low delved tombe | I |
Could Heav'n for pittie thee so strictly doom | I |
O no for something in thy face did shine | J |
Above mortalitie that shew'd thou wast divine | J |
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VI | - |
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Resolve me then oh Soul most surely blest | G |
If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear | E |
Tell me bright Spirit where e're thou hoverest | G |
Whether above that high first moving Spheare | E |
Or in the Elisian fields if such there were | E |
Oh say me true if thou wert mortal wight | G |
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight | G |
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VII | - |
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Wert thou some Starr which from the ruin'd roofe | - |
Of shak't Olympus by mischance didst fall | C |
Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe | - |
Took up and in fit place did reinstall | C |
Or did of late earths Sonnes besiege the wall | C |
Of sheenie Heav'n and thou some goddess fled | G |
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head | G |
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VIII | - |
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Or wert thou that just Maid who once before | E |
Forsook the hated earth O tell me sooth | K |
And cam'st again to visit us once more | E |
Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth | K |
Or that crown'd Matron sage white robed Truth | K |
Or any other of that heav'nly brood | G |
Let down in clowdie throne to do the world some good | G |
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IX | H |
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Or wert thou of the golden winged boast | G |
Who having clad thy self in humane weed | G |
To earth from thy praefixed seat didst poast | G |
And after short abode flie back with speed | G |
As if to shew what creatures Heav'n doth breed | G |
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire | E |
To scorn the sordid world and unto Heav'n aspire | E |
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X | H |
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But oh why didst thou not stay here below | C |
To bless us with thy heav'n lov'd innocence | H |
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe | C |
To turn Swift rushing black perdition hence | H |
Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence | H |
To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart | G |
But thou canst best perform that office where thou art | G |
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XI | H |
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Then thou the mother of so sweet a child | G |
Her false imagin'd loss cease to lament | G |
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild | G |
Think what a present thou to God hast sent | G |
And render him with patience what he lent | G |
This if thou do he will an off spring give | - |
That till the worlds last end shall make thy name to live | - |
John Milton
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