The Devil's Walk. A Ballad Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCD EFGHF IJKKJ LJMJ MHMH NOPMO QRQQR RMRMSTM CUCCU MVMMMV MWJMJW XXOGGJ YZYA2 WMB2M JJC2D2C2 MMMM E2F2E2F2 JTTT VG2VH2CH2 XMI2MXM J2K2J2K2 L2M2L2M2 MN2MCCO2 P2E2P2E2 MCMC Q2MHMMM N2MO2M MR2MR2 L2S2L2M MTMTA | |
Once early in the morning Beelzebub arose | B |
With care his sweet person adorning | C |
He put on his Sunday clothes | D |
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He drew on a boot to hide his hoof | E |
He drew on a glove to hide his claw | F |
His horns were concealed by a Bras Chapeau | G |
And the Devil went forth as natty a Beau | H |
As Bond street ever saw | F |
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He sate him down in London town | I |
Before earth's morning ray | J |
With a favourite imp he began to chat | K |
On religion and scandal this and that | K |
Until the dawn of day | J |
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And then to St James's Court he went | L |
And St Paul's Church he took on his way | J |
He was mighty thick with every Saint | M |
Though they were formal and he was gay | J |
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The Devil was an agriculturist | M |
And as bad weeds quickly grow | H |
In looking over his farm I wist | M |
He wouldn't find cause for woe | H |
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He peeped in each hole to each chamber stole | N |
His promising live stock to view | O |
Grinning applause he just showed them his claws | P |
And they shrunk with affright from his ugly sight | M |
Whose work they delighted to do | O |
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Satan poked his red nose into crannies so small | Q |
One would think that the innocents fair | R |
Poor lambkins were just doing nothing at all | Q |
But settling some dress or arranging some ball | Q |
But the Devil saw deeper there | R |
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A Priest at whose elbow the Devil during prayer | R |
Sate familiarly side by side | M |
Declared that if the Tempter were there | R |
His presence he would not abide | M |
Ah ah thought Old Nick that's a very stale trick | S |
For without the Devil O favourite of Evil | T |
In your carriage you would not ride | M |
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Satan next saw a brainless King | C |
Whose house was as hot as his own | U |
Many Imps in attendance were there on the wing | C |
They flapped the pennon and twisted the sting | C |
Close by the very Throne | U |
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Ah ah thought Satan the pasture is good | M |
My Cattle will here thrive better than others | V |
They dine on news of human blood | M |
They sup on the groans of the dying and dead | M |
And supperless never will go to bed | M |
Which will make them fat as their brothers | V |
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Fat as the Fiends that feed on blood | M |
Fresh and warm from the fields of Spain | W |
Where Ruin ploughs her gory way | J |
Where the shoots of earth are nipped in the bud | M |
Where Hell is the Victor's prey | J |
Its glory the meed of the slain | W |
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Fat as the Death birds on Erin's shore | X |
That glutted themselves in her dearest gore | X |
And flitted round Castlereagh | O |
When they snatched the Patriot's heart that HIS grasp | G |
Had torn from its widow's maniac clasp | G |
And fled at the dawn of day | J |
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Fat as the Reptiles of the tomb | Y |
That riot in corruption's spoil | Z |
That fret their little hour in gloom | Y |
And creep and live the while | A2 |
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Fat as that Prince's maudlin brain | W |
Which addled by some gilded toy | M |
Tired gives his sweetmeat and again | B2 |
Cries for it like a humoured boy | M |
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For he is fat his waistcoat gay | J |
When strained upon a levee day | J |
Scarce meets across his princely paunch | C2 |
And pantaloons are like half moons | D2 |
Upon each brawny haunch | C2 |
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How vast his stock of calf when plenty | M |
Had filled his empty head and heart | M |
Enough to satiate foplings twenty | M |
Could make his pantaloon seams start | M |
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The Devil who sometimes is called Nature | E2 |
For men of power provides thus well | F2 |
Whilst every change and every feature | E2 |
Their great original can tell | F2 |
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Satan saw a lawyer a viper slay | J |
That crawled up the leg of his table | T |
It reminded him most marvellously | T |
Of the story of Cain and Abel | T |
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The wealthy yeoman as he wanders | V |
His fertile fields among | G2 |
And on his thriving cattle ponders | V |
Counts his sure gains and hums a song | H2 |
Thus did the Devil through earth walking | C |
Hum low a hellish song | H2 |
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For they thrive well whose garb of gore | X |
Is Satan's choicest livery | M |
And they thrive well who from the poor | I2 |
Have snatched the bread of penury | M |
And heap the houseless wanderer's store | X |
On the rank pile of luxury | M |
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The Bishops thrive though they are big | J2 |
The Lawyers thrive though they are thin | K2 |
For every gown and every wig | J2 |
Hides the safe thrift of Hell within | K2 |
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Thus pigs were never counted clean | L2 |
Although they dine on finest corn | M2 |
And cormorants are sin like lean | L2 |
Although they eat from night to morn | M2 |
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Oh why is the Father of Hell in such glee | M |
As he grins from ear to ear | N2 |
Why does he doff his clothes joyfully | M |
As he skips and prances and flaps his wing | C |
As he sidles leers and twirls his sting | C |
And dares as he is to appear | O2 |
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A statesman passed alone to him | P2 |
The Devil dare his whole shape uncover | E2 |
To show each feature every limb | P2 |
Secure of an unchanging lover | E2 |
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At this known sign a welcome sight | M |
The watchful demons sought their King | C |
And every Fiend of the Stygian night | M |
Was in an instant on the wing | C |
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Pale Loyalty his guilt steeled brow | Q2 |
With wreaths of gory laurel crowned | M |
The hell hounds Murder Want and Woe | H |
Forever hungering flocked around | M |
From Spain had Satan sought their food | M |
'Twas human woe and human blood | M |
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Hark the earthquake's crash I hear | N2 |
Kings turn pale and Conquerors start | M |
Ruffians tremble in their fear | O2 |
For their Satan doth depart | M |
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This day Fiends give to revelry | M |
To celebrate their King's return | R2 |
And with delight its Sire to see | M |
Hell's adamantine limits burn | R2 |
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But were the Devil's sight as keen | L2 |
As Reason's penetrating eye | S2 |
His sulphurous Majesty I ween | L2 |
Would find but little cause for joy | M |
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For the sons of Reason see | M |
That ere fate consume the Pole | T |
The false Tyrant's cheek shall be | M |
Bloodless as his coward soul | T |
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(1)
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