Eiplogue Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis


THERE is a place so Ariosto singsC
A treasury for lost and missing thingsC
Lost human wits have places assign'd themD
And they who lose their senses there may find themD
But where's this place this storehouse of the ageE
The Moon says he but 'I' affirm the StageE
At least in many things I think I seeF
His lunar and our mimic world agreeF
Both shine at night for but at Foote's aloneG
We scarce exhibit till the sun goes downH
Both prone to change no settled limits fixI
And sure the folks of both are lunaticsI
But in this parallel my best pretence isJ
That mortals visit both to find their sensesJ
To this strange spot Rakes Macaronies CitsJ
Come thronging to collect their scatter'd witsJ
The gay coquette who ogles all the dayK
Comes here at night and goes a prude awayK
Hither the affected city dame advancingL
Who sighs for operas and dotes on dancingL
Taught by our art her ridicule to pause onM
Quits the 'Ballet' and calls for 'Nancy Dawson'M
The Gamester too whose wit's all high or lowN
Oft risks his fortune on one desperate throwN
Comes here to saunter having made his betsJ
Finds his lost senses out and pay his debtsJ
The Mohawk too with angry phrases storedO
As 'D Sir ' and 'Sir I wear a sword'O
Here lesson'd for a while and hence retreatingL
Goes out affronts his man and takes a beatingL
Here come the sons of scandal and of newsJ
But find no sense for they had none to loseJ
Of all the tribe here wanting an adviserB
Our Author's the least likely to grow wiserB
Has he not seen how you your favour placeJ
On sentimental Queens and Lords in laceJ
Without a star a coronet or garterB
How can the piece expect or hope for quarterB
No high life scenes no sentiment the creatureB
Still stoops among the low to copy natureB
Yes he's far gone and yet some pity fixJ
The English laws forbid to punish lunaticsJ

Oliver Goldsmith


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