Tristram Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BCBDE F E A G F H A G IHHHIHHJHHHHJHJ GGKKHHHHIIJJGLMGNJLG JHHOPJPPJJOJ PPQRRHHHHJJQSSTTGGHH UURRRHH DCDMVNMVJVI A JJSSSJJJWWS XXSTSTYYSSPPCCJJSSPP JSSJISSSSIJGSJSGSJZS JZJA2JA2DCJJSSJJRR A RRSSSSSSS OSSOSQIIQSSSDXXCSDDB 2SSCSCSJJRRSSJSSROOJ JRJJSSRRSSJSJSCCSSB2 B2JJJJJ A JJC2C2SSJJS CCSSSSSJJCCRRJRRJRSB 2SISSJJISSICCC A SSRRSSSSSCCS IISSSSD2D2JJ A RSSB2B2RFFRRSE2JJE2S S JSJSJSSJCJJCSSSRSRSS JJSSSSRRSCCSSCCIICSS SSJCJCCJJSSCSCSJJ RR

TristramA
-
Is she not come The messenger was sureB
Prop me upon the pillows once againC
Raise me my page this cannot long endureB
Christ what a night how the sleet whips the paneD
What lights will those out to the northward beE
-
The PageF
-
The lanterns of the fishing boats at seaE
-
TristramA
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Soft who is that stands by the dying fireG
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The PageF
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IseultH
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TristramA
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Ah not the Iseult I desireG
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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 rainD
And the knight sinks back on his pillows againC
He is weak with fever and painD
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
-
TristramA
-
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 courtesyJ
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 againC
Let her be as she was thenC
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 cupZ
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 painD
Twine about their hearts againC
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
-
TristramA
-
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 stayS
One last kiss first 'Tis vain to horse awayS
-
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 painD
Mingle with his hurrying dreamX
Till they rule it till he seemX
The press'd fugitive againC
The love desperate banish'd knightS
With a fire in his brainD
Flying o'er the stormy mainD
Whither does he wander nowB2
Haply in his dreams the windS
Wafts him here and lets him findS
The lovely orphan child againC
In her castle by the coastS
The youngest fairest chatelaineC
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
Welcom'd 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 exil'd 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 stoneC
In the forest depths aloneC
The chase neglected and his houndS
Couch'd beside him on the groundS
Ah what trouble's on his browB2
Hither let him wander nowB2
Hither to the quiet hoursJ
Pass'd among these heaths of oursJ
By the grey Atlantic seaJ
Hours if not of ecstasyJ
From violent anguish surely freeJ
-
TristramA
-
All red with blood the whirling river flowsJ
The wide plain rings the dazed air throbs with blowsJ
Upon us are the chivalry of RomeC2
Their spears are down their steeds are bathed in foamC2
Up Tristram up men cry thou moonstruck knightS
What foul fiend rides thee On into the fightS
Above the din her voice is in my earsJ
I see her form glide through the crossing spearsJ
IseultS
-
Ah he wanders forth againC
We cannot keep him now as thenC
There's a secret in his breastS
That will never let him restS
These musing fits in the green woodS
They cloud the brain they dull the bloodS
His sword is sharp his horse is goodS
Beyond the mountains will he seeJ
The famous towns of ItalyJ
And label with the blessed signC
The heathen Saxons on the RhineC
At Arthur's side he fights once moreR
With the Roman EmperorR
There's many a gay knight where he goesJ
Will help him to forget his careR
The march the leaguer Heaven's blithe airR
The neighing steeds the ringing blowsJ
Sick pining comes not where these areR
Ah what boots it that the jestS
Lightens every other browB2
What that every other breastS
Dances as the trumpets blowI
If one's own heart beats not lightS
On the waves of the toss'd fightS
If oneself cannot get freeJ
From the clog of miseryJ
Thy lovely youthful Wife grows paleI
Watching by the salt sea tideS
With her children at her sideS
For the gleam of thy white sailI
Home Tristram to thy halls againC
To our lonely sea complainC
To our forests tell thy painC
-
TristramA
-
All round the forest sweeps off black in shadeS
But it is moonlight in the open gladeS
And in the bottom of the glade shine clearR
The forest chapel and the fountain nearR
I think I have a fever in my bloodS
Come let me leave the shadow of this woodS
Ride down and bathe my hot brow in the floodS
Mild shines the cold spring in the moon's clear lightS
God 'tis her face plays in the waters brightS
Fair love she says canst thou forget so soonC
At this soft hour under this sweet moonC
IseultS
-
Ah poor soul if this be soI
Only death can balm thy woeI
The solitudes of the green woodS
Had no medicine for thy moodS
The rushing battle clear'd thy bloodS
As little as did solitudeS
Ah his eyelids slowly breakD2
Their hot seals and let him wakeD2
What new change shall we now seeJ
A happier Worse it cannot beJ
-
TristramA
-
Is my page here Come turn me to the fireR
Upon the window panes the moon shines brightS
The wind is down but she'll not come to nightS
Ah no she is asleep in Cornwall nowB2
Far hence her dreams are fair smooth is her browB2
Of me she recks not nor my vain desireR
I have had dreams I have had dreams my pageF
Would take a score years from a strong man's ageF
And with a blood like mine will leave I fearR
Scant leisure for a second messengerR
My princess art thou there Sweet 'tis too waitS
To bed and sleep my fever is gone byE2
To night my page shall keep me companyJ
Where do the children sleep kiss them for meJ
Poor child thou art almost as pale as IE2
This comes of nursing long and watching lateS
To bed good nightS
-
She left the gleam lit fireplaceJ
She came to the bed sideS
She took his hands in hers her tearsJ
Down on his wasted fingers rain'dS
She raised her eyes upon his faceJ
Not with a look of wounded prideS
A look as if the heart complainedS
Her look was like a sad embraceJ
The gaze of one who can divineC
A grief and sympathiseJ
Sweet flower thy children's eyesJ
Are not more innocent than thineC
But they sleep in shelter'd restS
Like helpless birds in the warm nestS
On the castle's southern sideS
Where feebly comes the mournful roarR
Of buffeting wind and surging tideS
Through many a room and corridorR
Full on their window the Moon's rayS
Makes their chamber as bright as dayS
It shines upon the blank white wallsJ
And on the snowy pillow fallsJ
And on two angel heads doth playS
Turn'd to each other the eyes clos'dS
The lashes on the cheeks repos'dS
Round each sweet brow the cap close setS
Hardly lets peep the golden hairR
Through the soft open'd lips the airR
Scarcely moves the coverletS
One little wandering arm is thrownC
At random on the counterpaneC
And often the fingers close in hasteS
As if their baby owner chasedS
The butterflies againC
This stir they have and this aloneC
But else they are so stillI
Ah tired madcaps you lie stillI
But were you at the window nowC
To look forth on the fairy sightS
Of your illumined haunts by nightS
To see the park glades where you playS
Far lovelier than they are by dayS
To see the sparkle on the eavesJ
And upon every giant boughC
Of those old oaks whose wet red leavesJ
Are jewell'd with bright drops of rainC
How would your voices run againC
And far beyond the sparkling treesJ
Of the castle park one seesJ
The bare heaths spreading clear as dayS
Moor behind moor far far awayS
Into the heart of BrittanyC
And here and there lock'd by the landS
Long inlets of smooth glittering seaC
And many a stretch of watery sandS
All shining in the white moon beamsJ
But you see fairer in your dreamsJ
-
What voices are these on the clear night airR
What lights in the court what steps on the stairR

Matthew Arnold



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