First Epistle To Robert Graham, Esq. Of Fintray. Poem Rhyme Scheme

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When Nature her great master piece designed	A
And fram'd her last best work the human mind	A
Her eye intent on all the mazy plan	B
She form'd of various parts the various man	B
	-
Then first she calls the useful many forth	C
Plain plodding industry and sober worth	D
Thence peasants farmers native sons of earth	D
And merchandise' whole genus take their birth	D
Each prudent cit a warm existence finds	E
And all mechanics' many apron'd kinds	E
Some other rarer sorts are wanted yet	F
The lead and buoy are needful to the net	F
The caput mortuum of gross desires	G
Makes a material for mere knights and squires	G
The martial phosphorus is taught to flow	H
She kneads the lumpish philosophic dough	H
Then marks th' unyielding mass with grave designs	I
Law physic politics and deep divines	I
Last she sublimes th' Aurora of the poles	I
The flashing elements of female souls	I
	-
The order'd system fair before her stood	J
Nature well pleas'd pronounc'd it very good	J
But ere she gave creating labour o'er	K
Half jest she tried one curious labour more	L
Some spumy fiery ignis fatuus matter	K
Such as the slightest breath of air might scatter	K
With arch alacrity and conscious glee	M
Nature may have her whim as well as we	M
Her Hogarth art perhaps she meant to show it	N
She forms the thing and christens it a Poet	O
Creature tho' oft the prey of care and sorrow	H
When blest to day unmindful of to morrow	H
A being form'd t'amuse his graver friends	I
Admir'd and prais'd and there the homage ends	I
A mortal quite unfit for fortune's strife	P
Yet oft the sport of all the ills of life	P
Prone to enjoy each pleasure riches give	Q
Yet haply wanting wherewithal to live	R
Longing to wipe each tear to heal each groan	S
Yet frequent all unheeded in his own	S
	-
But honest Nature is not quite a Turk	T
She laugh'd at first then felt for her poor work	T
Pitying the propless climber of mankind	A
She cast about a standard tree to find	A
And to support his helpless woodbine state	U
Attach'd him to the generous truly great	U
A title and the only one I claim	V
To lay strong hold for help on bounteous Graham	W
	-
Pity the tuneful muses' hapless train	X
Weak timid landsmen on life's stormy main	X
Their hearts no selfish stern absorbent stuff	Y
That never gives tho' humbly takes enough	Y
The little fate allows they share as soon	Z
Unlike sage proverb'd wisdom's hard wrung boon	Z
The world were blest did bliss on them depend	A2
Ah that the friendly e'er should want a friend	A2
Let prudence number o'er each sturdy son	B2
Who life and wisdom at one race begun	B2
Who feel by reason and who give by rule	C2
Instinct's a brute and sentiment a fool	C2
Who make poor will do wait upon I should	J
We own they're prudent but who feels they're good	J
Ye wise ones hence ye hurt the social eye	D2
God's image rudely etch'd on base alloy	E2
But come ye who the godlike pleasure know	H
Heaven's attribute distinguished to bestow	H
Whose arms of love would grasp the human race	I
Come thou who giv'st with all a courtier's grace	I
Friend of my life true patron of my rhymes	I
Prop of my dearest hopes for future times	I
	-
Why shrinks my soul half blushing half afraid	F2
Backward abash'd to ask thy friendly aid	F2
I know my need I know thy giving hand	G2
I crave thy friendship at thy kind command	G2
But there are such who court the tuneful nine	H2
Heavens should the branded character be mine	H2
Whose verse in manhood's pride sublimely flows	I
Yet vilest reptiles in their begging prose	I
Mark how their lofty independent spirit	O
Soars on the spurning wing of injur'd merit	O
Seek not the proofs in private life to find	A
Pity the best of words should be but wind	A
So to heaven's gates the lark's shrill song ascends	I
But grovelling on the earth the carol ends	I
In all the clam'rous cry of starving want	I2
They dun benevolence with shameless front	J2
Oblige them patronize their tinsel lays	I
They persecute you all your future days	I
Ere my poor soul such deep damnation stain	X
My horny fist assume the plough again	K2
The pie bald jacket let me patch once more	L
On eighteen pence a week I've liv'd before	L
Tho' thanks to Heaven I dare even that last shift	L2
I trust meantime my boon is in thy gift	L2
That plac'd by thee upon the wish'd for height	M2
Where man and nature fairer in her sight	M2
My muse may imp her wing for some sublimer flight	M2

Robert Burns

First Epistle To Robert Graham, Esq. Of Fintray. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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