My Lady's[1] Lamentation And Complaint Against The Dean Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEEFG HHIIJKCCLLMMNNOOHHPP HHQQGGRRSSTTNNUUVWRR XXCCWWYYZZA2A2B2B2C2 C2IIUUD2D2E2E2F2F2UU UUUUC2C2G2G2GGH2ZUUU UUUC2C2UUIII2I2J2PK2 K2UUL2L2M2M2G2G2G2G2 UUN2N2O2O2P2P2Q2Q2GG F2F2BBG2G2UUE2E2R2R2 S2S2UUUUCCUUT2T2U2U2 P2P2V2IG2G2R2R2UUUUU UW2W2X2X2G2G2Y2Y2UUZ 2Z2UUUUUUUUIIZZG2G2A 3A3TTG2G2IR2U2B3UUP2 P2BBIBBBZ2Z2UUC3C3UU BBBF2IIIIUUUUJULY | A |
- | |
Sure never did man see | B |
A wretch like poor Nancy | B |
So teazed day and night | C |
By a Dean and a Knight | C |
To punish my sins | D |
Sir Arthur begins | D |
And gives me a wipe | E |
With Skinny and Snipe | E |
His malice is plain | F |
Hallooing the Dean | G |
- | |
The Dean never stops | H |
When he opens his chops | H |
I'm quite overrun | I |
With rebus and pun | I |
Before he came here | J |
To spunge for good cheer | K |
I sat with delight | C |
From morning till night | C |
With two bony thumbs | L |
Could rub my old gums | L |
Or scratching my nose | M |
And jogging my toes | M |
But at present forsooth | N |
I must not rub a tooth | N |
When my elbows he sees | O |
Held up by my knees | O |
My arms like two props | H |
Supporting my chops | H |
And just as I handle 'em | P |
Moving all like a pendulum | P |
He trips up my props | H |
And down my chin drops | H |
From my head to my heels | Q |
Like a clock without wheels | Q |
I sink in the spleen | G |
A useless machine | G |
If he had his will | R |
I should never sit still | R |
He comes with his whims | S |
I must move my limbs | S |
I cannot be sweet | T |
Without using my feet | T |
To lengthen my breath | N |
He tires me to death | N |
By the worst of all squires | U |
Thro' bogs and thro' briers | U |
Where a cow would be startled | V |
I'm in spite of my heart led | W |
And say what I will | R |
Haul'd up every hill | R |
Till daggled and tatter'd | X |
My spirits quite shatter'd | X |
I return home at night | C |
And fast out of spite | C |
For I'd rather be dead | W |
Than it e'er should be said | W |
I was better for him | Y |
In stomach or limb | Y |
But now to my diet | Z |
No eating in quiet | Z |
He's still finding fault | A2 |
Too sour or too salt | A2 |
The wing of a chick | B2 |
I hardly can pick | B2 |
But trash without measure | C2 |
I swallow with pleasure | C2 |
Next for his diversion | I |
He rails at my person | I |
What court breeding this is | U |
He takes me to pieces | U |
From shoulder to flank | D2 |
I'm lean and am lank | D2 |
My nose long and thin | E2 |
Grows down to my chin | E2 |
My chin will not stay | F2 |
But meets it halfway | F2 |
My fingers prolix | U |
Are ten crooked sticks | U |
He swears my el bows | U |
Are two iron crows | U |
Or sharp pointed rocks | U |
And wear out my smocks | U |
To 'scape them Sir Arthur | C2 |
Is forced to lie farther | C2 |
Or his sides they would gore | G2 |
Like the tusks of a boar | G2 |
Now changing the scene | G |
But still to the Dean | G |
He loves to be bitter at | H2 |
A lady illiterate | Z |
If he sees her but once | U |
He'll swear she's a dunce | U |
Can tell by her looks | U |
A hater of books | U |
Thro' each line of her face | U |
Her folly can trace | U |
Which spoils every feature | C2 |
Bestow'd her by nature | C2 |
But sense gives a grace | U |
To the homeliest face | U |
Wise books and reflection | I |
Will mend the complexion | I |
A civil divine | I2 |
I suppose meaning mine | I2 |
No lady who wants them | J2 |
Can ever be handsome | P |
I guess well enough | K2 |
What he means by this stuff | K2 |
He haws and he hums | U |
At last out it comes | U |
What madam No walking | L2 |
No reading nor talking | L2 |
You're now in your prime | M2 |
Make use of your time | M2 |
Consider before | G2 |
You come to threescore | G2 |
How the hussies will fleer | G2 |
Where'er you appear | G2 |
That silly old puss | U |
Would fain be like us | U |
What a figure she made | N2 |
In her tarnish'd brocade | N2 |
And then he grows mild | O2 |
Come be a good child | O2 |
If you are inclined | P2 |
To polish your mind | P2 |
Be adored by the men | Q2 |
Till threescore and ten | Q2 |
And kill with the spleen | G |
The jades of sixteen | G |
I'll show you the way | F2 |
Read six hours a day | F2 |
The wits will frequent ye | B |
And think you but twenty | B |
To make you learn faster | G2 |
I'll be your schoolmaster | G2 |
And leave you to choose | U |
The books you peruse | U |
Thus was I drawn in | E2 |
Forgive me my sin | E2 |
At breakfast he'll ask | R2 |
An account of my task | R2 |
Put a word out of joint | S2 |
Or miss but a point | S2 |
He rages and frets | U |
His manners forgets | U |
And as I am serious | U |
Is very imperious | U |
No book for delight | C |
Must come in my sight | C |
But instead of new plays | U |
Dull Bacon's Essays | U |
And pore every day on | T2 |
That nasty Pantheon | T2 |
If I be not a drudge | U2 |
Let all the world judge | U2 |
'Twere better be blind | P2 |
Than thus be confined | P2 |
But while in an ill tone | V2 |
I murder poor Milton | I |
The Dean you will swear | G2 |
Is at study or prayer | G2 |
He's all the day sauntering | R2 |
With labourers bantering | R2 |
Among his colleagues | U |
A parcel of Teagues | U |
Whom he brings in among us | U |
And bribes with mundungus | U |
He little believes | U |
How they laugh in their sleeves | U |
Hail fellow well met | W2 |
All dirty and wet | W2 |
Find out if you can | X2 |
Who's master who's man | X2 |
Who makes the best figure | G2 |
The Dean or the digger | G2 |
And which is the best | Y2 |
At cracking a jest | Y2 |
Now see how he sits | U |
Perplexing his wits | U |
In search of a motto | Z2 |
To fix on his grotto | Z2 |
How proudly he talks | U |
Of zigzags and walks | U |
And all the day raves | U |
Of cradles and caves | U |
And boasts of his feats | U |
His grottos and seats | U |
Shows all his gewgaws | U |
And gapes for applause | U |
A fine occupation | I |
For one in his station | I |
A hole where a rabbit | Z |
Would scorn to inhabit | Z |
Dug out in an hour | G2 |
He calls it a bower | G2 |
But O how we laugh | A3 |
To see a wild calf | A3 |
Come driven by heat | T |
And foul the green seat | T |
Or run helter skelter | G2 |
To his arbour for shelter | G2 |
Where all goes to ruin | I |
The Dean has been doing | R2 |
The girls of the village | U2 |
Come flocking for pillage | B3 |
Pull down the fine briers | U |
And thorns to make fires | U |
But yet are so kind | P2 |
To leave something behind | P2 |
No more need be said on't | B |
I smell when I tread on't | B |
Dear friend Doctor Jinny | I |
If I could but win ye | B |
Or Walmsley or Whaley | B |
To come hither daily | B |
Since fortune my foe | Z2 |
Will needs have it so | Z2 |
That I'm by her frowns | U |
Condemn'd to black gowns | U |
No squire to be found | C3 |
The neighbourhood round | C3 |
For under the rose | U |
I would rather choose those | U |
If your wives will permit ye | B |
Come here out of pity | B |
To ease a poor lady | B |
And beg her a play day | F2 |
So may you be seen | I |
No more in the spleen | I |
May Walmsley give wine | I |
Like a hearty divine | I |
May Whaley disgrace | U |
Dull Daniel's whey face | U |
And may your three spouses | U |
Let you lie at friends' houses | U |
Jonathan Swift
(1)
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<< Apollo To The Dean.[1] 1720 Poem
Horace, Book Iv, Ode Ix; Addressed To Humphry French, Esq.[1] Late Lord Mayor Of Dublin Poem>>
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