Baucis And Philemon[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme

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ON THE EVER LAMENTED LOSS OF THE TWO YEW TREES IN THE PARISH OF CHILTHORNE SOMERSET IMITATED FROM THE EIGHTH BOOK OF OVID	A
	-
In ancient times as story tells	B
The saints would often leave their cells	B
And stroll about but hide their quality	A
To try good people's hospitality	A
It happen'd on a winter night	A
As authors of the legend write	A
Two brother hermits saints by trade	A
Taking their tour in masquerade	A
Disguis'd in tatter'd habits went	A
To a small village down in Kent	A
Where in the strollers' canting strain	C
They begg'd from door to door in vain	C
Try'd ev'ry tone might pity win	D
But not a soul would let them in	D
Our wand'ring saints in woful state	A
Treated at this ungodly rate	A
Having thro' all the village past	A
To a small cottage came at last	A
Where dwelt a good old honest ye'man	E
Call'd in the neighbourhood Philemon	F
Who kindly did these saints invite	A
In his poor hut to pass the night	A
And then the hospitable sire	G
Bid Goody Baucis mend the fire	G
While he from out the chimney took	H
A flitch of bacon off the hook	H
And freely from the fattest side	A
Cut out large slices to be fry'd	A
Then stepp'd aside to fetch 'em drink	I
Fill'd a large jug up to the brink	I
And saw it fairly twice go round	A
Yet what was wonderful they found	A
'Twas still replenished to the top	J
As if they ne'er had touch'd a drop	J
The good old couple were amaz'd	A
And often on each other gaz'd	A
For both were frighten'd to the heart	A
And just began to cry What art	A
Then softly turn'd aside to view	K
Whether the lights were burning blue	K
The gentle pilgrims soon aware on't	A
Told them their calling and their errand	A
Good folk you need not be afraid	A
We are but saints the hermits said	A
No hurt shall come to you or yours	L
But for that pack of churlish boors	L
Not fit to live on Christian ground	A
They and their houses shall be drown'd	A
While you shall see your cottage rise	M
And grow a church before your eyes	M
They scarce had spoke when fair and soft	A
The roof began to mount aloft	A
Aloft rose ev'ry beam and rafter	G
The heavy wall climb'd slowly after	G
The chimney widen'd and grew higher	G
Became a steeple with a spire	N
The kettle to the top was hoist	A
And there stood fasten'd to a joist	A
But with the upside down to show	O
Its inclination for below	O
In vain for a superior force	P
Applied at bottom stops its course	P
Doom'd ever in suspense to dwell	Q
'Tis now no kettle but a bell	Q
A wooden jack which had almost	A
Lost by disuse the art to roast	A
A sudden alteration feels	R
Increas'd by new intestine wheels	R
And what exalts the wonder more	S
The number made the motion slower	G
The flyer though it had leaden feet	A
Turn'd round so quick you scarce could see't	A
But slacken'd by some secret power	G
Now hardly moves an inch an hour	G
The jack and chimney near ally'd	A
Had never left each other's side	A
The chimney to a steeple grown	T
The jack would not be left alone	T
But up against the steeple rear'd	A
Became a clock and still adher'd	A
And still its love to household cares	U
By a shrill voice at noon declares	U
Warning the cookmaid not to burn	V
That roast meat which it cannot turn	V
The groaning chair began to crawl	W
Like an huge snail half up the wall	W
There stuck aloft in public view	K
And with small change a pulpit grew	K
The porringers that in a row	O
Hung high and made a glitt'ring show	O
To a less noble substance chang'd	A
Were now but leathern buckets rang'd	A
The ballads pasted on the wall	W
Of Joan of France and English Mall	W
Fair Rosamond and Robin Hood	A
The little Children in the Wood	A
Now seem'd to look abundance better	G
Improved in picture size and letter	G
And high in order plac'd describe	X
The heraldry of ev'ry tribe	X
A bedstead of the antique mode	A
Compact of timber many a load	A
Such as our ancestors did use	Y
Was metamorphos'd into pews	Z
Which still their ancient nature keep	A2
By lodging folk disposed to sleep	A2
The cottage by such feats as these	B2
Grown to a church by just degrees	B2
The hermits then desired their host	A
To ask for what he fancy'd most	A
Philemon having paused a while	C2
Return'd them thanks in homely style	C2
Then said My house is grown so fine	D2
Methinks I still would call it mine	D2
I'm old and fain would live at ease	B2
Make me the parson if you please	B2
He spoke and presently he feels	R
His grazier's coat fall down his heels	R
He sees yet hardly can believe	E2
About each arm a pudding sleeve	E2
His waistcoat to a cassock grew	K
And both assumed a sable hue	K
But being old continued just	A
As threadbare and as full of dust	A
His talk was now of tithes and dues	Z
Could smoke his pipe and read the news	Z
Knew how to preach old sermons next	A
Vamp'd in the preface and the text	A
At christ'nings well could act his part	A
And had the service all by heart	A
Wish'd women might have children fast	A
And thought whose sow had farrow'd last	A
Against dissenters would repine	D2
And stood up firm for right divine	D2
Found his head fill'd with many a system	F2
But classic authors he ne'er mist 'em	F2
Thus having furbish'd up a parson	D2
Dame Baucis next they play'd their farce on	D2
Instead of homespun coifs were seen	D2
Good pinners edg'd with colberteen	D2
Her petticoat transform'd apace	G2
Became black satin flounced with lace	G2
Plain Goody would no longer down	D2
'Twas Madam in her grogram gown	D2
Philemon was in great surprise	M
And hardly could believe his eyes	M
Amaz'd to see her look so prim	H2
And she admir'd as much at him	H2
Thus happy in their change of life	I2
Were several years this man and wife	I2
When on a day which prov'd their last	A
Discoursing o'er old stories past	A
They went by chance amidst their talk	J2
To the churchyard to take a walk	J2
When Baucis hastily cry'd out	A
My dear I see your forehead sprout	A
Sprout quoth the man what's this you tell us	K2
I hope you don't believe me jealous	K2
But yet methinks I feel it true	K
And really yours is budding too Nay now	D2
I cannot stir my foot	A
It feels as if 'twere taking root	A
Description would but tire my Muse	Z
In short they both were turn'd to yews	Z
Old Goodman Dobson of the Green	D2
Remembers he the trees has seen	D2
He'll talk of them from noon till night	A
And goes with folk to show the sight	A
On Sundays after evening prayer	L2
He gathers all the parish there	L2
Points out the place of either yew	K
Here Baucis there Philemon grew	K
Till once a parson of our town	D2
To mend his barn cut Baucis down	D2
At which 'tis hard to be believ'd	A
How much the other tree was griev'd	A
Grew scrubby dy'd a top was stunted	A
So the next parson stubb'd and burnt it	A

Jonathan Swift

Baucis And Philemon[1] Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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