Poems To Mulgrave And Scroope Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Deare Friend	A
	-
I heare this Towne does soe abound	B
With sawcy Censurers that faults are found	B
With what of late wee in Poetique Rage	C
Bestowing threw away on the dull Age	C
But howsoe're Envy their Spleen may raise	D
To Robb my Brow of the deserved Bays	D
Their thanks at least I merit since through me	E
They are Partakers of your Poetry	E
And this is all I'll say in my defence	F
T'obtaine one Line of your well worded Sense	F
	-
I'd be content t'have writ the Brittish Prince	G
I'm none of those who thinke themselves inspir'd	H
Nor write with the vaine hopes to be admir'd	H
But from a Rule I have upon long tryall	I
T'avoyd with care all sort of self denyall	I
Which way soe're desire and fancy leade	H
Contemning Fame that Path I boldly tread	H
And if exposeing what I take for Witt	H
To my deare self a Pleasure I beget	H
Noe matter tho' the Censring Crittique fret	H
Those whom my Muse displeases are at strife	J
With equall Spleene against my Course of life	J
The least delight of which I'd not forgoe	K
For all the flatt'ring Praise Man can bestow	H
If I designd to please the way were then	L
To mend my Manners rather than my Pen	L
The first's unnaturall therefore unfit	H
And for the Second I despair of it	H
Since Grace is not soe hard to get as Witt	H
Perhaps ill Verses ought to be confin'd	H
In meere good Breeding like unsav'ry Wind	H
Were Reading forc'd I shou'd be apt to thinke	K
Men might noe more write scurvily than stinke	K
But 'tis your choyce whether you'll Read or noe	H
If likewise of your smelling it were soe	G
I'd Fart just as I write for my owne ease	G
Nor shou'd you be concern'd unlesse you please	G
I'll owne that you write better than I doe	H
But I have as much need to write as you	M
What though the Excrement of my dull Braine	H
	-
Runns in a harsh insipid Straine	H
Whilst your rich Head eases it self of Witt	H
Must none but Civet Catts have leave to shit	H
In all I write shou'd Sense and Witt and Rhyme	N
Faile me at once yet something soe Sublime	N
Shall stamp my Poem that the World may see	G
It cou'd have beene produc'd by none but me	G
And that's my end for Man can wish noe more	O
Then soe to write as none ere writ before	O
Yet why am I noe Poet of the tymes	G
I have Allusions Similies and Rhymes	G
And Witt or else 'tis hard that I alone	H
Of the whole Race of Mankind shou'd have none	H
Unequally the Partiall Hand of Heav'n	H
Has all but this one only Blessing giv'n	H
The World appeares like a great Family	G
Whose Lord opprest with Pride and Poverty	G
That to a few great Plenty he may show	H
Is faine to starve the Num'rous Traine below	H
Just soe seemes Providence as poor and vaine	H
Keeping more Creatures than it can maintaine	H
Here 'tis profuse and there it meanly saves	G
And for One Prince it makes Ten Thousand Slaves	G
In Witt alone it has beene Magnificent	H
Of which soe just a share to each is sent	H
That the most Avaricious are content	H
For none e're thought the due Division's such	P
His owne too little or his Friends too much	P
Yet most Men shew or find great want of Witt	H
Writeing themselves or Judging what is writ	H
But I who am of sprightly Vigour full	I
Looke on Mankind as Envious and dull	I
Borne to my self my self I like alone	H
And must conclude my Judgment good or none	H
For shou'd my Sense be nought how cou'd I know	H
Whether another Man's were good or noe	H
Thus I resolve of my owne Poetry	G
That 'tis the best and there's a Fame for me	G
If then I'm happy what does it advance	G
Whether to merit due or Arrogance	G
	-
Oh but the World will take offence thereby	Q
Why then the World shall suffer for't not I	Q
Did e're this sawcy World and I agree	G
To let it have its Beastly will on me	G
Why shou'd my Prostituted Sense be drawne	H
To ev'ry Rule their musty Customes spawne	H
But Men will Censure you Tis Two to one	H
When e're they Censure they'll be in the wrong	K
There's not a thing on Earth that I can name	R
Soe foolish and soe false as Common Fame	R
It calls the Courtier Knave the plaine Man rude	H
Haughty the grave and the delightfull Lewd	H
Impertinent the briske Morosse the sad	H
Meane the Familiar the Reserv'd one Mad	H
Poor helplesse Woman is not favour'd more	O
She's a slye Hipocryte or Publique Whore	O
Then who the Devill wou'd give this to be free	G
From th'Innocent Reproach of Infamy	G
These things consider'd make me in despight	H
Of idle Rumour keepe at home and write	H

John Wilmot

Poems To Mulgrave And Scroope Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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