A Satirical Elegy On The Death Of A Late Famous General Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIJKL MMNN OOPPQQRR| His Grace impossible what dead | A |
| Of old age too and in his bed | A |
| And could that mighty warrior fall | B |
| And so inglorious after all | B |
| Well since he's gone no matter how | C |
| The last loud trump must wake him now | C |
| And trust me as the noise grows stronger | D |
| He'd wish to sleep a little longer | D |
| And could he be indeed so old | E |
| As by the newspapers we're told | E |
| Threescore I think is pretty high | F |
| 'Twas time in conscience he should die | F |
| This world he cumber'd long enough | G |
| He burnt his candle to the snuff | G |
| And that's the reason some folks think | H |
| He left behind so great a stink | H |
| Behold his funeral appears | I |
| Nor widows' sighs nor orphans' tears | J |
| Wont at such times each heart to pierce | K |
| Attend the progress of his hearse | L |
| But what of that his friends may say | M |
| He had those honours in his day | M |
| True to his profit and his pride | N |
| He made them weep before he died | N |
| - | |
| Come hither all ye empty things | O |
| Ye bubbles rais'd by breath of kings | O |
| Who float upon the tide of state | P |
| Come hither and behold your fate | P |
| Let pride be taught by this rebuke | Q |
| How very mean a thing's a duke | Q |
| From all his ill got honours flung | R |
| Turn'd to that dirt from whence he sprung | R |
Jonathan Swift
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