The Poet's Progress Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJ KKLLMNOOPPQQHHRRSTUU VVWWWXXYKZZHHA2A2DDF CB2C2D2E2QQZZF2F2G2A 2H2H2HHI2I2J2K2L2M2N 2N2TTHHAADDTHOU Nature partial Nature I arraign | A |
Of thy caprice maternal I complain | A |
The peopled fold thy kindly care have found | B |
The horn d bull tremendous spurns the ground | B |
The lordly lion has enough and more | C |
The forest trembles at his very roar | C |
Thou giv'st the ass his hide the snail his shell | D |
The puny wasp victorious guards his cell | D |
Thy minions kings defend controul devour | E |
In all th' omnipotence of rule and power | E |
Foxes and statesmen subtle wiles ensure | F |
The cit and polecat stink and are secure | F |
Toads with their poison doctors with their drug | G |
The priest and hedgehog in their robes are snug | G |
E'en silly women have defensive arts | H |
Their eyes their tongues and nameless other parts | H |
But O thou cruel stepmother and hard | I |
To thy poor fenceless naked child the Bard | I |
A thing unteachable in worldly skill | J |
And half an idiot too more helpless still | J |
No heels to bear him from the op'ning dun | K |
No claws to dig his hated sight to shun | K |
No horns but those by luckless Hymen worn | L |
And those alas not Amalthea's horn | L |
No nerves olfact'ry true to Mammon's foot | M |
Or grunting grub sagacious evil's root | N |
The silly sheep that wanders wild astray | O |
Is not more friendless is not more a prey | O |
Vampyre booksellers drain him to the heart | P |
And viper critics cureless venom dart | P |
Critics appll'd I venture on the name | Q |
Those cut throat bandits in the paths of fame | Q |
Bloody dissectors worse than ten Monroes | H |
He hacks to teach they mangle to expose | H |
By blockhead's daring into madness stung | R |
His heart by wanton causeless malice wrung | R |
His well won ways than life itself more dear | S |
By miscreants torn who ne'er one sprig must wear | T |
Foil'd bleeding tortur'd in th' unequal strife | U |
The hapless Poet flounces on through life | U |
Till fled each hope that once his bosom fired | V |
And fled each Muse that glorious once inspir'd | V |
Low sunk in squalid unprotected age | W |
Dead even resentment for his injur'd page | W |
He heeds no more the ruthless critics' rage | W |
So by some hedge the generous steed deceas'd | X |
For half starv'd snarling curs a dainty feast | X |
By toil and famine worn to skin and bone | Y |
Lies senseless of each tugging bitch's son | K |
A little upright pert tart tripping wight | Z |
And still his precious self his dear delight | Z |
Who loves his own smart shadow in the streets | H |
Better than e'er the fairest she he meets | H |
Much specious lore but little understood | A2 |
Veneering oft outshines the solid wood | A2 |
His solid sense by inches you must tell | D |
But mete his cunning by the Scottish ell | D |
A man of fashion too he made his tour | F |
Learn'd vive la bagatelle et vive l'amour | C |
So travell'd monkeys their grimace improve | B2 |
Polish their grin nay sigh for ladies' love | C2 |
His meddling vanity a busy fiend | D2 |
Still making work his selfish craft must mend | E2 |
Crochallan came | Q |
The old cock'd hat the brown surtout the same | Q |
His grisly beard just bristling in its might | Z |
'Twas four long nights and days from shaving night | Z |
His uncomb'd hoary locks wild staring thatch'd | F2 |
A head for thought profound and clear unmatch'd | F2 |
Yet tho' his caustic wit was biting rude | G2 |
His heart was warm benevolent and good | A2 |
O Dulness portion of the truly blest | H2 |
Calm shelter'd haven of eternal rest | H2 |
Thy sons ne'er madden in the fierce extremes | H |
Of Fortune's polar frost or torrid beams | H |
If mantling high she fills the golden cup | I2 |
With sober selfish ease they sip it up | I2 |
Conscious the bounteous meed they well deserve | J2 |
They only wonder some folks do not starve | K2 |
The grave sage hern thus easy picks his frog | L2 |
And thinks the mallard a sad worthless dog | M2 |
When disappointment snaps the thread of Hope | N2 |
When thro' disastrous night they darkling grope | N2 |
With deaf endurance sluggishly they bear | T |
And just conclude that fools are Fortune's care | T |
So heavy passive to the tempest's shocks | H |
Strong on the sign post stands the stupid ox | H |
Not so the idle Muses' mad cap train | A |
Not such the workings of their moon struck brain | A |
In equanimity they never dwell | D |
By turns in soaring heaven or vaulted hell | D |
Robert Burns
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