On Mr. Pulteney's[1] Being Put Out Of The Council Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCAADEFFGHII AAJJKKLLMMNNAANNOOPQ NNRRSSTT| Sir Robert wearied by Will Pulteney's teasings | A |
| Who interrupted him in all his leasings | A |
| Resolved that Will and he should meet no more | B |
| Full in his face Bob shuts the council door | B |
| Nor lets him sit as justice on the bench | C |
| To punish thieves or lash a suburb wench | C |
| Yet still St Stephen's chapel open lies | A |
| For Will to enter What shall I advise | A |
| Ev'n quit the house for thou too long hast sat in't | D |
| Produce at last thy dormant ducal patent | E |
| There near thy master's throne in shelter placed | F |
| Let Will unheard by thee his thunder waste | F |
| Yet still I fear your work is done but half | G |
| For while he keeps his pen you are not safe | H |
| Hear an old fable and a dull one too | I |
| It bears a moral when applied to you | I |
| - | |
| A hare had long escaped pursuing hounds | A |
| By often shifting into distant grounds | A |
| Till finding all his artifices vain | J |
| To save his life he leap'd into the main | J |
| But there alas he could no safety find | K |
| A pack of dogfish had him in the wind | K |
| He scours away and to avoid the foe | L |
| Descends for shelter to the shades below | L |
| There Cerberus lay watching in his den | M |
| He had not seen a hare the lord knows when | M |
| Out bounced the mastiff of the triple head | N |
| Away the hare with double swiftness fled | N |
| Hunted from earth and sea and hell he flies | A |
| Fear lent him wings for safety to the skies | A |
| How was the fearful animal distrest | N |
| Behold a foe more fierce than all the rest | N |
| Sirius the swiftest of the heavenly pack | O |
| Fail'd but an inch to seize him by the back | O |
| He fled to earth but first it cost him dear | P |
| He left his scut behind and half an ear | Q |
| Thus was the hare pursued though free from guilt | N |
| Thus Bob shall thou be maul'd fly where thou wilt | N |
| Then honest Robin of thy corpse beware | R |
| Thou art not half so nimble as a hare | R |
| Too ponderous is thy bulk to mount the sky | S |
| Nor can you go to Hell before you die | S |
| So keen thy hunters and thy scent so strong | T |
| Thy turns and doublings cannot save thee long | T |
Jonathan Swift
(1)
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