Ode To Doctor William Sancroft[1] Late Lord Bishop Of Canterbury Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Jonathan Swift

Ode To Doctor William Sancroft[1] Late Lord Bishop Of Canterbury Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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WRITTEN IN MAY AT THE DESIRE OF THE LATE LORD BISHOP OF ELY	A
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I	A
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Truth is eternal and the Son of Heaven	B
Bright effluence of th'immortal ray	C
Chief cherub and chief lamp of that high sacred Seven	B
Which guard the throne by night and are its light by day	C
First of God's darling attributes	D
Thou daily seest him face to face	E
Nor does thy essence fix'd depend on giddy circumstance	F
Of time or place	E
Two foolish guides in every sublunary dance	F
How shall we find Thee then in dark disputes	D
How shall we search Thee in a battle gain'd	G
Or a weak argument by force maintain'd	G
In dagger contests and th'artillery of words	H
For swords are madmen's tongues and tongues are madmen's swords	I
Contrived to tire all patience out	J
And not to satisfy the doubt	J
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II	A
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But where is even thy Image on our earth	K
For of the person much I fear	L
Since Heaven will claim its residence as well as birth	K
And God himself has said He shall not find it here	M
For this inferior world is but Heaven's dusky shade	N
By dark reverted rays from its reflection made	N
Whence the weak shapes wild and imperfect pass	O
Like sunbeams shot at too far distance from a glass	O
Which all the mimic forms express	P
Though in strange uncouth postures and uncomely dress	P
So when Cartesian artists try	A
To solve appearances of sight	Q
In its reception to the eye	A
And catch the living landscape through a scanty light	Q
The figures all inverted show	R
And colours of a faded hue	S
Here a pale shape with upward footstep treads	T
And men seem walking on their heads	T
There whole herds suspended lie	A
Ready to tumble down into the sky	A
Such are the ways ill guided mortals go	R
To judge of things above by things below	R
Disjointing shapes as in the fairy land of dreams	U
Or images that sink in streams	U
No wonder then we talk amiss	V
Of truth and what or where it is	W
Say Muse for thou if any know'st	X
Since the bright essence fled where haunts the reverend ghost	Y
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III	A
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If all that our weak knowledge titles virtue be	Z
High Truth the best resemblance of exalted Thee	Z
If a mind fix'd to combat fate	A2
With those two powerful swords submission and humility	Z
Sounds truly good or truly great	A2
Ill may I live if the good Sancroft in his holy rest	B2
In the divinity of retreat	X
Be not the brightest pattern earth can show	R
Of heaven born Truth below	R
But foolish man still judges what is best	B2
In his own balance false and light	Q
Following opinion dark and blind	C2
That vagrant leader of the mind	C2
Till honesty and conscience are clear out of sight	Q
	-
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IV	-
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And some to be large ciphers in a state	A2
Pleased with an empty swelling to be counted great	A2
Make their minds travel o'er infinity of space	E
Rapt through the wide expanse of thought	D2
And oft in contradiction's vortex caught	E2
To keep that worthless clod the body in one place	E
Errors like this did old astronomers misguide	F2
Led blindly on by gross philosophy and pride	F2
Who like hard masters taught the sun	B
Through many a heedless sphere to run	B
Many an eccentric and unthrifty motion make	G2
And thousand incoherent journeys take	G2
Whilst all th'advantage by it got	E2
Was but to light earth's inconsiderable spot	E2
The herd beneath who see the weathercock of state	A2
Hung loosely on the church's pinnacle	H2
Believe it firm because perhaps the day is mild and still	I2
But when they find it turn with the first blast of fate	A2
By gazing upward giddy grow	R
And think the church itself does so	R
Thus fools for being strong and num'rous known	J2
Suppose the truth like all the world their own	J2
And holy Sancroft's motion quite irregular appears	K2
Because 'tis opposite to theirs	L2
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V	-
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In vain then would the Muse the multitude advise	M2
Whose peevish knowledge thus perversely lies	M2
In gath'ring follies from the wise	M2
Rather put on thy anger and thy spite	Q
And some kind power for once dispense	N2
Through the dark mass the dawn of so much sense	N2
To make them understand and feel me when I write	Q
The muse and I no more revenge desire	O2
Each line shall stab shall blast like daggers and like fire	O2
Ah Britain land of angels which of all thy sins	P2
Say hapless isle although	R
It is a bloody list we know	R
Has given thee up a dwelling place to fiends	Q2
Sin and the plague ever abound	R2
In governments too easy and too fruitful ground	R2
Evils which a too gentle king	S2
Too flourishing a spring	S2
And too warm summers bring	S2
Our British soil is over rank and breeds	T2
Among the noblest flowers a thousand pois'nous weeds	T2
And every stinking weed so lofty grows	U2
As if 'twould overshade the Royal Rose	U2
The Royal Rose the glory of our morn	V2
But ah too much without a thorn	V2
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VI	-
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Forgive original mildness this ill govern'd zeal	W2
'Tis all the angry slighted Muse can do	S
In the pollution of these days	X2
No province now is left her but to rail	Y2
And poetry has lost the art to praise	X2
Alas the occasions are so few	S
None e'er but you	S
And your Almighty Master knew	S
With heavenly peace of mind to bear	Z2
Free from our tyrant passions anger scorn or fear	L
The giddy turns of popular rage	A3
And all the contradictions of a poison'd age	A3
The Son of God pronounced by the same breath	B3
Which straight pronounced his death	B3
And though I should but ill be understood	C3
In wholly equalling our sin and theirs	L2
And measuring by the scanty thread of wit	D3
What we call holy and great and just and good	C3
Methods in talk whereof our pride and ignorance make use	E3
And which our wild ambition foolishly compares	L2
With endless and with infinite	F3
Yet pardon native Albion when I say	C
Among thy stubborn sons there haunts that spirit of the Jews	G3
That those forsaken wretches who to day	C
Revile his great ambassador	O2
Seem to discover what they would have done	B
Were his humanity on earth once more	H3
To his undoubted Master Heaven's Almighty Son	B
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VII	S
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But zeal is weak and ignorant though wondrous proud	I3
Though very turbulent and very loud	I3
The crazy composition shows	U2
Like that fantastic medley in the idol's toes	U2
Made up of iron mixt with clay	C
This crumbles into dust	J3
That moulders into rust	J3
Or melts by the first shower away	C
Nothing is fix'd that mortals see or know	R
Unless perhaps some stars above be so	R
And those alas do show	R
Like all transcendent excellence below	R
In both false mediums cheat our sight	Q
And far exalted objects lessen by their height	Q
Thus primitive Sancroft moves too high	S
To be observed by vulgar eye	S
And rolls the silent year	L
On his own secret regular sphere	L
And sheds though all unseen his sacred influence here	M
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VIII	S
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Kind star still may'st thou shed thy sacred influence here	M
Or from thy private peaceful orb appear	L
For sure we want some guide from Heaven to show	R
The way which every wand'ring fool below	R
Pretends so perfectly to know	R
And which for aught I see and much I fear	L
The world has wholly miss'd	K3
I mean the way which leads to Christ	L3
Mistaken idiots see how giddily they run	B
Led blindly on by avarice and pride	F2
What mighty numbers follow them	M3
Each fond of erring with his guide	F2
Some whom ambition drives seek Heaven's high Son	B
In Caesar's court or in Jerusalem	N3
Others ignorantly wise	M2
Among proud doctors and disputing Pharisees	M2
What could the sages gain but unbelieving scorn	V2
Their faith was so uncourtly when they said	O3
That Heaven's high Son was in a village born	V2
That the world's Saviour had been	P3
In a vile manger laid	N
And foster'd in a wretched inn	P3
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IX	M2
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Necessity thou tyrant conscience of the great	A2
Say why the church is still led blindfold by the state	A2
Why should the first be ruin'd and laid waste	Q3
To mend dilapidations in the last	R3
And yet the world whose eyes are on our mighty Prince	M2
Thinks Heaven has cancell'd all our sins	M2
And that his subjects share his happy influence	M2
Follow the model close for so I'm sure they should	C3
But wicked kings draw more examples than the good	C3
And divine Sancroft weary with the weight	A2
Of a declining church by faction her worst foe oppress'd	B2
Finding the mitre almost grown	J2
A load as heavy as the crown	S3
Wisely retreated to his heavenly rest	B2
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X	M2
	-
Ah may no unkind earthquake of the state	A2
Nor hurricano from the crown	S3
Disturb the present mitre as that fearful storm of late	A2
Which in its dusky march along the plain	T3
Swept up whole churches as it list	K3
Wrapp'd in a whirlwind and a mist	K3
Like that prophetic tempest in the virgin reign	T3
And swallow'd them at last or flung them down	S3
Such were the storms good Sancroft long has borne	V2
The mitre which his sacred head has worn	V2
Was like his Master's Crown inwreath'd with thorn	V2
Death's sting is swallow'd up in victory at last	R3
The bitter cup is from him past	R3
Fortune in both extremes	M2
Though blasts from contrariety of winds	M2
Yet to firm heavenly minds	M2
Is but one thing under two different names	M2
And even the sharpest eye that has the prospect seen	U3
Confesses ignorance to judge between	U3
And must to human reasoning opposite conclude	V3
To point out which is moderation which is fortitude	V3
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XI	M2
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Thus Sancroft in the exaltation of retreat	X
Shows lustre that was shaded in his seat	X
Short glimm'rings of the prelate glorified	F2
Which the disguise of greatness only served to hide	F2
Why should the Sun alas be proud	I3
To lodge behind a golden cloud	I3
Though fringed with evening gold the cloud appears so gay	C
'Tis but a low born vapour kindled by a ray	C
At length 'tis overblown and past	R3
Puff'd by the people's spiteful blast	R3
The dazzling glory dims their prostituted sight	Q
No deflower'd eye can face the naked light	Q
Yet does this high perfection well proceed	W3
From strength of its own native seed	W3
This wilderness the world like that poetic wood of old	X3
Bears one and but one branch of gold	X3
Where the bless'd spirit lodges like the dove	S
And which to heavenly soil transplanted will improve	S
To be as 'twas below the brightest plant above	S
For whate'er theologic levellers dream	Y3
There are degrees above I know	R
As well as here below	R
The goddess Muse herself has told me so	R
Where high patrician souls dress'd heavenly gay	C
Sit clad in lawn of purer woven day	C
There some high spirited throne to Sancroft shall be given	B
In the metropolis of Heaven	B
Chief of the mitred saints and from archprelate here	M
Translated to archangel there	Z2
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XII	R
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Since happy saint since it has been of late	A2
Either our blindness or our fate	A2
To lose the providence of thy cares	R
Pity a miserable church's tears	R
That begs the powerful blessing of thy prayers	R
Some angel say what were the nation's crimes	R
That sent these wild reformers to our times	R
Say what their senseless malice meant	Z3
To tear religion's lovely face	R
Strip her of every ornament and grace	R
In striving to wash off th'imaginary paint	A4
Religion now does on her death bed lie	S
Heart sick of a high fever and consuming atrophy	M2
How the physicians swarm to show their mortal skill	I2
And by their college arts methodically kill	I2
Reformers and physicians differ but in name	B4
One end in both and the design the same	B4
Cordials are in their talk while all they mean	U3
Is but the patient's death and gain	T3
Check in thy satire angry Muse	R
Or a more worthy subject choose	R
Let not the outcasts of an outcast age	A3
Provoke the honour of my Muse's rage	A3
Nor be thy mighty spirit rais'd	C4
Since Heaven and Cato both are pleas'd	D4
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The rest of the poem is lost	E4