Georgic 4 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEFGHIJKLDMNOPQRQ STUVWXGYLUZXA2WB2WC2 D2C2E2CC2F2C2G2C2H2C 2C2D2I2C2J2LK2EC2L2M 2N2O2GC2P2Q2UR2C2C2L 2A2G2EA2C2O2S2GT2U2V 2C2C2W2X2Y2Z2A3B3M2C 3C2C2C2D3M2WCG2IM2R2 C2UE3C2F3C2C2G3E2H3W R2EC2I3C2G2R2ZJ3K3G2 C2WR2R2L3C2UC2C2R2M3 C2L3N3C2R2C2LCC2WL3R 2R2L3WO3L3C3P3L3Q3L2 C2C2WWL3R2C2C2L3L3C2 L3CGL3CL3R2G

Of air born honey gift of heaven I nowA
Take up the tale Upon this theme no lessB
Look thou Maecenas with indulgent eyeC
A marvellous display of puny powersD
High hearted chiefs a nation's historyE
Its traits its bent its battles and its clansF
All each shall pass before you while I singG
Slight though the poet's theme not slight the praiseH
So frown not heaven and Phoebus hear his callI
First find your bees a settled sure abodeJ
Where neither winds can enter winds blow backK
The foragers with food returning homeL
Nor sheep and butting kids tread down the flowersD
Nor heifer wandering wide upon the plainM
Dash off the dew and bruise the springing bladesN
Let the gay lizard too keep far aloofO
His scale clad body from their honied stallsP
And the bee eater and what birds besideQ
And Procne smirched with blood upon the breastR
From her own murderous hands For these roam wideQ
Wasting all substance or the bees themselvesS
Strike flying and in their beaks bear home to glutT
Those savage nestlings with the dainty preyU
But let clear springs and moss green pools be nearV
And through the grass a streamlet hurrying runW
Some palm tree o'er the porch extend its shadeX
Or huge grown oleaster that in SpringG
Their own sweet Spring tide when the new made chiefsY
Lead forth the young swarms and escaped their combL
The colony comes forth to sport and playU
The neighbouring bank may lure them from the heatZ
Or bough befriend with hospitable shadeX
O'er the mid waters whether swift or stillA2
Cast willow branches and big stones enowW
Bridge after bridge where they may footing findB2
And spread their wide wings to the summer sunW
If haply Eurus swooping as they pauseC2
Have dashed with spray or plunged them in the deepD2
And let green cassias and far scented thymesC2
And savory with its heavy laden breathE2
Bloom round about and violet beds hard byC
Sip sweetness from the fertilizing springsC2
For the hive's self or stitched of hollow barkF2
Or from tough osier woven let the doorsC2
Be strait of entrance for stiff winter's coldG2
Congeals the honey and heat resolves and thawsC2
To bees alike disastrous not for naughtH2
So haste they to cement the tiny poresC2
That pierce their walls and fill the crevicesC2
With pollen from the flowers and glean and keepD2
To this same end the glue that binds more fastI2
Than bird lime or the pitch from Ida's pinesC2
Oft too in burrowed holes if fame be trueJ2
They make their cosy subterranean homeL
And deeply lodged in hollow rocks are foundK2
Or in the cavern of an age hewn treeE
Thou not the less smear round their crannied cribsC2
With warm smooth mud coat and strew leaves aboveL2
But near their home let neither yew tree growM2
Nor reddening crabs be roasted and mistrustN2
Deep marish ground and mire with noisome smellO2
Or where the hollow rocks sonorous ringG
And the word spoken buffets and reboundsC2
What more When now the golden sun has putP2
Winter to headlong flight beneath the worldQ2
And oped the doors of heaven with summer rayU
Forthwith they roam the glades and forests o'erR2
Rifle the painted flowers or sip the streamsC2
Light hovering on the surface Hence it isC2
With some sweet rapture that we know not ofL2
Their little ones they foster hence with skillA2
Work out new wax or clinging honey mouldG2
So when the cage escaped hosts you seeE
Float heavenward through the hot clear air untilA2
You marvel at yon dusky cloud that spreadsC2
And lengthens on the wind then mark them wellO2
For then 'tis ever the fresh springs they seekS2
And bowery shelter hither must you bringG
The savoury sweets I bid and sprinkle themT2
Bruised balsam and the wax flower's lowly weedU2
And wake and shake the tinkling cymbals heardV2
By the great Mother on the anointed spotsC2
Themselves will settle and in wonted wiseC2
Seek of themselves the cradle's inmost depthW2
But if to battle they have hied them forthX2
For oft 'twixt king and king with uproar direY2
Fierce feud arises and at once from farZ2
You may discern what passion sways the mobA3
And how their hearts are throbbing for the strifeB3
Hark the hoarse brazen note that warriors knowM2
Chides on the loiterers and the ear may catchC3
A sound that mocks the war trump's broken blastsC2
Then in hot haste they muster then flash wingsC2
Sharpen their pointed beaks and knit their thewsC2
And round the king even to his royal tentD3
Throng rallying and with shouts defy the foeM2
So when a dry Spring and clear space is givenW
Forth from the gates they burst they clash on highC
A din arises they are heaped and rolledG2
Into one mighty mass and headlong fallI
Not denselier hail through heaven nor pelting soM2
Rains from the shaken oak its acorn showerR2
Conspicuous by their wings the chiefs themselvesC2
Press through the heart of battle and displayU
A giant's spirit in each pigmy frameE3
Steadfast no inch to yield till these or thoseC2
The victor's ponderous arm has turned to flightF3
Such fiery passions and such fierce assaultsC2
A little sprinkled dust controls and quellsC2
And now both leaders from the field recalledG3
Who hath the worser seeming do to deathE2
Lest royal waste wax burdensome but letH3
His better lord it on the empty throneW
One with gold burnished flakes will shine like fireR2
For twofold are their kinds the nobler heE
Of peerless front and lit with flashing scalesC2
That other from neglect and squalor foulI3
Drags slow a cumbrous belly As with kingsC2
So too with people diverse is their mouldG2
Some rough and loathly as when the wayfarerR2
Scapes from a whirl of dust and scorched with heatZ
Spits forth the dry grit from his parched mouthJ3
The others shine forth and flash with lightning gleamK3
Their backs all blazoned with bright drops of goldG2
Symmetric this the likelier breed from theseC2
When heaven brings round the season thou shalt strainW
Sweet honey nor yet so sweet as passing clearR2
And mellowing on the tongue the wine god's fireR2
But when the swarms fly aimlessly abroadL3
Disport themselves in heaven and spurn their cellsC2
Leaving the hive unwarmed from such vain playU
Must you refrain their volatile desiresC2
Nor hard the task tear off the monarchs' wingsC2
While these prove loiterers none beside will dareR2
Mount heaven or pluck the standards from the campM3
Let gardens with the breath of saffron flowersC2
Allure them and the lord of HellespontL3
Priapus wielder of the willow scytheN3
Safe in his keeping hold from birds and thievesC2
And let the man to whom such cares are dearR2
Himself bring thyme and pine trees from the heightsC2
And strew them in broad belts about their homeL
No hand but his the blistering task should plyC
Plant the young slips or shed the genial showersC2
And I myself were I not even nowW
Furling my sails and nigh the journey's endL3
Eager to turn my vessel's prow to shoreR2
Perchance would sing what careful husbandryR2
Makes the trim garden smile of Paestum tooL3
Whose roses bloom and fade and bloom againW
How endives glory in the streams they drinkO3
And green banks in their parsley and how the gourdL3
Twists through the grass and rounds him to paunchC3
Nor of Narcissus had my lips been dumbP3
That loiterer of the flowers nor supple stemmedL3
Acanthus with the praise of ivies paleQ3
And myrtles clinging to the shores they loveL2
For 'neath the shade of tall Oebalia's towersC2
Where dark Galaesus laves the yellowing fieldsC2
An old man once I mind me to have seenW
From Corycus he came to whom had fallenW
Some few poor acres of neglected landL3
And they nor fruitful' neath the plodding steerR2
Meet for the grazing herd nor good for vinesC2
Yet he the while his meagre garden herbsC2
Among the thorns he planted and all roundL3
White lilies vervains and lean poppy setL3
In pride of spirit matched the wealth of kingsC2
And home returning not till night was lateL3
With unbought plenty heaped his board on highC
He was the first to cull the rose in springG
He the ripe fruits in autumn and ere yetL3
Winter had ceased in sullen ire to riveC
The rocks with frost and with her icy bitL3
Curb in the running waters there was heR2
PluckiG

Publius Vergilius Maro



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