Tristram And Iseult Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AB CDCEF F G H G IHHHIHHJHHHHJHJGGKKH HHHIIJJGLMGNJLGJHHOP JPPJJOJPPQRRHHHHJJQS STTGGHHUURRRHH EDEMVNMVJVIJJSSSJJ WWS XXSTSTYYSSPPDDJJSSPP JSSJISSSSIJGSJSGSJZS J JA2JA2EDJJSSJJRRRRSS SSS OSSOS QIIQSSSEXXDSEEB2SSDS DSJJRRSSJSSROOJJRJJS SRRSSJSJSDDS

IA
TRISTRAMB
-
Tristram Is she not come The messenger was sureC
Prop me upon the pillows once againD
Raise me my page this cannot long endureC
Christ what a night how the sleet whips the paneE
What lights will those out to the northward beF
-
The Page The lanterns of the fishing boats at seaF
-
Tristram Soft who is that stands by the dying fireG
-
The Page IseultH
-
Tristram Ah not the Iseult I desireG
-
What Knight is this so weak and paleI
Though the locks are yet brown on his noble headH
Propt on pillows in his bedH
Gazing seaward for the lightH
Of some ship that fights the galeI
On this wild December nightH
Over the sick man's feet is spreadH
A dark green forest dressJ
A gold harp leans against the bedH
Ruddy in the fire's lightH
I know him by his harp of goldH
Famous in Arthur's court of oldH
I know him by his forest dressJ
The peerless hunter harper knightH
Tristram of LyonessJ
What Lady is this whose silk attireG
Gleams so rich in the light of the fireG
The ringlets on her shoulders lyingK
In their flitting lustre vyingK
With the clasp of burnish'd goldH
Which her heavy robe doth holdH
Her looks are mild her fingers slightH
As the driven snow are whiteH
But her cheeks are sunk and paleI
Is it that the bleak sea galeI
Beating from the Atlantic seaJ
On this coast of BrittanyJ
Nips too keenly the sweet flowerG
Is it that a deep fatigueL
Hath come on her a chilly fearM
Passing all her youthful hourG
Spinning with her maidens hereN
Listlessly through the window barsJ
Gazing seawards many a leagueL
From her lonely shore built towerG
While the knights are at the warsJ
Or perhaps has her young heartH
Felt already some deeper smartH
Of those that in secret the heart strings riveO
Leaving her sunk and pale though fairP
Who is this snowdrop by the seaJ
I know her by her mildness rareP
Her snow white hands her golden hairP
I know her by her rich silk dressJ
And her fragile lovelinessJ
The sweetest Christian soul aliveO
Iseult of BrittanyJ
Iseult of Brittany but whereP
Is that other Iseult fairP
That proud first Iseult Cornwall's queenQ
She whom Tristram's ship of yoreR
From Ireland to Cornwall boreR
To Tyntagel to the sideH
Of King Marc to be his brideH
She who as they voyaged quaff'dH
With Tristram that spiced magic draughtH
Which since then for ever rollsJ
Through their blood and binds their soulsJ
Working love but working teenQ
There were two Iseults who did swayS
Each her hour of Tristram's dayS
But one possess'd his waning timeT
The other his resplendent primeT
Behold her here the patient flowerG
Who possess'd his darker hourG
Iseult of the Snow White HandH
Watches pale by Tristram's bedH
She is here who had his gloomU
Where art thou who hadst his bloomU
One such kiss as those of yoreR
Might thy dying knight restoreR
Does the love draught work no moreR
Art thou cold or false or deadH
Iseult of IrelandH
-
Loud howls the wind sharp patters the rainE
And the knight sinks back on his pillows againD
He is weak with fever and painE
And his spirit is not clearM
Hark he mutters in his sleepV
As he wanders far from hereN
Changes place and time of yearM
And his clos d eye doth sweepV
O'er some fair unwintry seaJ
Not this fierce Atlantic deepV
While he mutters brokenlyI
Tristram The calm sea shines loose hang the vessel's sailsJ
Before us are the sweet green fields of WalesJ
And overhead the cloudless sky of MayS
'Ah would I were in those green fields at playS
Not pent on ship board this delicious dayS
Tristram I pray thee of thy courtesyJ
Reach me my golden phial stands by theeJ
But pledge me in it first for courtesy '-
Ha dost thou start are thy lips blanch'd like mineW
Child 'tis no true draught this 'tis poison'd wineW
IseultS
-
Ah sweet angels let him dreamX
Keep his eyelids let him seemX
Not this fever wasted wightS
Thinn'd and paled before his timeT
But the brilliant youthful knightS
In the glory of his primeT
Sitting in the gilded bargeY
At thy side thou lovely chargeY
Bending gaily o'er thy handS
Iseult of IrelandS
And she too that princess fairP
If her bloom be now less rareP
Let her have her youth againD
Let her be as she was thenD
Let her have her proud dark eyesJ
And her petulant quick repliesJ
Let her sweep her dazzling handS
With its gesture of commandS
And shake back her raven hairP
With the old imperious airP
As of old so let her beJ
That first Iseult princess brightS
Chatting with her youthful knightS
As he steers her o'er the seaJ
Quitting at her father's willI
The green isle where she was bredS
And her bower in IrelandS
For the surge beat Cornish strandS
Where the prince whom she must wedS
Dwells on loud Tyntagel's hillI
High above the sounding seaJ
And that potion rare her motherG
Gave her that her future lordS
Gave her that King Marc and sheJ
Might drink it on their marriage dayS
And for ever love each otherG
Let her as she sits on boardS
Ah sweet saints unwittinglyJ
See it shine and take it upZ
And to Tristram laughing sayS
'Sir Tristram of thy courtesyJ
Pledge me in my golden cup '-
Let them drink it let their handsJ
Tremble and their cheeks be flameA2
As they feel the fatal bandsJ
Of a love they dare not nameA2
With a wild delicious painE
Twine about their hearts againD
Let the early summer beJ
Once more round them and the seaJ
Blue and o'er its mirror kindS
Let the breath of the May windS
Wandering through their drooping sailsJ
Die on the green fields of WalesJ
Let a dream like this restoreR
What his eye must see no moreR
Tristram Chill blows the wind the pleasaunce walks are drearR
Madcap what jest was this to meet me hereR
Were feet like those made for so wild a wayS
The southern winter parlour by my fayS
Had been the likeliest trysting place to dayS
'Tristram nay nay thou must not take my handS
Tristram sweet love we are betray'd out plann'dS
Fly save thyself save me I dare not stay '-
One last kiss first ''Tis vain to horse away '-
-
Ah sweet saints his dream doth moveO
Faster surely than it shouldS
From the fever in his bloodS
All the spring time of his loveO
Is already gone and pastS
-
And instead thereof is seenQ
Its winter which endureth stillI
Tyntagel on its surge beat hillI
The pleasaunce walks the weeping queenQ
The flying leaves the straining blastS
And that long wild kiss their lastS
And this rough December nightS
And his burning fever painE
Mingle with his hurrying dreamX
Till they rule it till he seemX
The press'd fugitive againD
The love desperate banish'd knightS
With a fire in his brainE
Flying o'er the stormy mainE
Whither does he wander nowB2
Haply in his dreams the windS
Wafts him here and lets him findS
The lovely orphan child againD
In her castle by the coastS
The youngest fairest chatelaineD
Whom this realm of France can boastS
Our snowdrop by the Atlantic seaJ
Iseult of BrittanyJ
And for through the haggard airR
The stain'd arms the matted hairR
Of that stranger knight ill starr'dS
There gleam'd something which recall'dS
The Tristram who in better daysJ
Was Launcelot's guest at Joyous GardS
Welcomed here and here install'dS
Tended of his fever hereR
Haply he seems again to moveO
His young guardian's heart with loveO
In his exiled lonelinessJ
In his stately deep distressJ
Without a word without a tearR
Ah 'tis well he should retraceJ
His tranquil life in this lone placeJ
His gentle bearing at the sideS
Of his timid youthful brideS
His long rambles by the shoreR
On winter evenings when the roarR
Of the near waves came sadly grandS
Through the dark up the drown'd sandS
Or his endless reveriesJ
In the woods where the gleams playS
On the grass under the treesJ
Passing the long summer's dayS
Idle as a mossy stoneD
In the forest depths aloneD
The chase neglected and his houndS
Co-

Matthew Arnold



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