Apollo To The Dean.[1] 1720 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIJCC KKFFLLFFMMFFAANNOOPP QQAARRSSTUDDVVWWXXCC YYZZA2A2AAB2B2AAC2C2 D2D2E2E2FFF2F2FFWWAA G2G2H2H2FFI2I2VVLLI2 I2E2E2FFI2I2| Right Trusty and so forth we let you know | A |
| We are very ill used by you mortals below | A |
| For first I have often by chemists been told | B |
| Though I know nothing on't it is I that make gold | B |
| Which when you have got you so carefully hide it | C |
| That since I was born I hardly have spied it | C |
| Then it must be allow'd that whenever I shine | D |
| I forward the grass and I ripen the vine | D |
| To me the good fellows apply for relief | E |
| Without whom they could get neither claret nor beef | E |
| Yet their wine and their victuals those curmudgeon lubbards | F |
| Lock up from my sight in cellars and cupboards | F |
| That I have an ill eye they wickedly think | G |
| And taint all their meat and sour all their drink | G |
| But thirdly and lastly it must be allow'd | H |
| I alone can inspire the poetical crowd | H |
| This is gratefully own'd by each boy in the College | I |
| Whom if I inspire it is not to my knowledge | J |
| This every pretender in rhyme will admit | C |
| Without troubling his head about judgment or wit | C |
| These gentlemen use me with kindness and freedom | K |
| And as for their works when I please I may read 'em | K |
| They lie open on purpose on counters and stalls | F |
| And the titles I view when I shine on the walls | F |
| But a comrade of yours that traitor Delany | L |
| Whom I for your sake have used better than any | L |
| And of my mere motion and special good grace | F |
| Intended in time to succeed in your place | F |
| On Tuesday the tenth seditiously came | M |
| With a certain false trait'ress one Stella by name | M |
| To the Deanery house and on the North glass | F |
| Where for fear of the cold I never can pass | F |
| Then and there vi et armis with a certain utensil | A |
| Of value five shillings in English a pencil | A |
| Did maliciously falsely and trait'rously write | N |
| While Stella aforesaid stood by with a light | N |
| My sister hath lately deposed upon oath | O |
| That she stopt in her course to look at them both | O |
| That Stella was helping abetting and aiding | P |
| And still as he writ stood smiling and reading | P |
| That her eyes were as bright as myself at noon day | Q |
| But her graceful black locks were all mingled with grey | Q |
| And by the description I certainly know | A |
| 'Tis the nymph that I courted some ten years ago | A |
| Whom when I with the best of my talents endued | R |
| On her promise of yielding she acted the prude | R |
| That some verses were writ with felonious intent | S |
| Direct to the North where I never once went | S |
| That the letters appear'd reversed through the pane | T |
| But in Stella's bright eyes were placed right again | U |
| Wherein she distinctly could read ev'ry line | D |
| And presently guessed the fancy was mine | D |
| She can swear to the Parson whom oft she has seen | V |
| At night between Cavan Street and College Green | V |
| Now you see why his verses so seldom are shown | W |
| The reason is plain they are none of his own | W |
| And observe while you live that no man is shy | X |
| To discover the goods he came honestly by | X |
| If I light on a thought he will certainly steal it | C |
| And when he has got it find ways to conceal it | C |
| Of all the fine things he keeps in the dark | Y |
| There's scarce one in ten but what has my mark | Y |
| And let them be seen by the world if he dare | Z |
| I'll make it appear they are all stolen ware | Z |
| But as for the poem he writ on your sash | A2 |
| I think I have now got him under my lash | A2 |
| My sister transcribed it last night to his sorrow | A |
| And the public shall see't if I live till to morrow | A |
| Thro' the zodiac around it shall quickly be spread | B2 |
| In all parts of the globe where your language is read | B2 |
| He knows very well I ne'er gave a refusal | A |
| When he ask'd for my aid in the forms that are usual | A |
| But the secret is this I did lately intend | C2 |
| To write a few verses on you as my friend | C2 |
| I studied a fortnight before I could find | D2 |
| As I rode in my chariot a thought to my mind | D2 |
| And resolved the next winter for that is my time | E2 |
| When the days are at shortest to get it in rhyme | E2 |
| Till then it was lock'd in my box at Parnassus | F |
| When that subtle companion in hopes to surpass us | F |
| Conveys out my paper of hints by a trick | F2 |
| For I think in my conscience he deals with old Nick | F2 |
| And from my own stock provided with topics | F |
| He gets to a window beyond both the tropics | F |
| There out of my sight just against the north zone | W |
| Writes down my conceits and then calls them his own | W |
| And you like a cully the bubble can swallow | A |
| Now who but Delany that writes like Apollo | A |
| High treason by statute yet here you object | G2 |
| He only stole hints but the verse is correct | G2 |
| Though the thought be Apollo's 'tis finely express'd | H2 |
| So a thief steals my horse and has him well dress'd | H2 |
| Now whereas the said criminal seems past repentance | F |
| We Phoebus think fit to proceed to his sentence | F |
| Since Delany hath dared like Prometheus his sire | I2 |
| To climb to our region and thence to steal fire | I2 |
| We order a vulture in shape of the Spleen | V |
| To prey on his liver but not to be seen | V |
| And we order our subjects of every degree | L |
| To believe all his verses were written by me | L |
| And under the pain of our highest displeasure | I2 |
| To call nothing his but the rhyme and the measure | I2 |
| And lastly for Stella just out of her prime | E2 |
| I'm too much revenged already by Time | E2 |
| In return of her scorn I sent her diseases | F |
| But will now be her friend whenever she pleases | F |
| And the gifts I bestow'd her will find her a lover | I2 |
| Though she lives till she's grey as a badger all over | I2 |
Jonathan Swift
(1)
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About Apollo To The Dean.[1] 1720
Apollo To The Dean.[1] 1720 is a poem by Jonathan Swift. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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