Oberon's Chapel Poem Rhyme Scheme

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A way enhanced with glass and beads	A
There is that to the Chapel leads	A
Whose structure for his holy rest	B
Is here the Halcyon's curious nest	B
Into the which who looks shall see	C
His Temple of Idolatry	C
Where he of god heads has such store	D
As Rome's Pantheon had not more	D
His house of Rimmon this he calls	E
Girt with small bones instead of walls	E
First in a niche more black than jet	F
His idol cricket there is set	F
Then in a polish'd oval by	G
There stands his idol beetle fly	G
Next in an arch akin to this	H
His idol canker seated is	I
Then in a round is placed by these	J
His golden god Cantharides	J
So that where'er ye look ye see	J
No capital no cornice free	J
Or frieze from this fine frippery	J
Now this the Fairies would have known	K
Theirs is a mixt religion	L
And some have heard the elves it call	M
Part Pagan part Papistical	M
If unto me all tongues were granted	N
I could not speak the saints here painted	N
Saint Tit Saint Nit Saint Is Saint Itis	J
Who 'gainst Mab's state placed here right is	J
Saint Will o' th' Wisp of no great bigness	J
But alias call'd here FATUUS IGNIS	J
Saint Frip Saint Trip Saint Fill Saint Filly	M
Neither those other saint ships will I	G
Here go about for to recite	O
Their number almost infinite	P
Which one by one here set down are	J
In this most curious calendar	J
	-
First at the entrance of the gate	Q
A little puppet priest doth wait	Q
Who squeaks to all the comers there	J
'Favour your tongues who enter here	J
'Pure hands bring hither without stain '	-
A second pules 'Hence hence profane '	-
Hard by i' th' shell of half a nut	P
The holy water there is put	R
A little brush of squirrels' hairs	J
Composed of odd not even pairs	J
Stands in the platter or close by	G
To purge the fairy family	M
Near to the altar stands the priest	S
There offering up the holy grist	T
Ducking in mood and perfect tense	J
With much good do't him reverence	J
The altar is not here four square	J
Nor in a form triangular	J
Nor made of glass or wood or stone	K
But of a little transverse bone	K
Which boys and bruckel'd children call	M
Playing for points and pins cockall	M
Whose linen drapery is a thin	U
Sub ile and ductile codling's skin	U
Which o'er the board is smoothly spread	V
With little seal work damasked	V
The fringe that circumbinds it too	V
Is spangle work of trembling dew	V
Which gently gleaming makes a show	W
Like frost work glitt'ring on the snow	W
Upon this fetuous board doth stand	V
Something for shew bread and at hand	V
Just in the middle of the altar	J
Upon an end the Fairy psalter	J
Graced with the trout flies' curious wings	J
Which serve for watchet ribbonings	J
Now we must know the elves are led	V
Right by the Rubric which they read	V
And if report of them be true	V
They have their text for what they do	V
Ay and their book of canons too	V
And as Sir Thomas Parson tells	J
They have their book of articles	J
And if that Fairy knight not lies	J
They have their book of homilies	J
And other Scriptures that design	X
A short but righteous discipline	L
The bason stands the board upon	Y
To take the free oblation	Y
A little pin dust which they hold	V
More precious than we prize our gold	V
Which charity they give to many	Y
Poor of the parish if there's any	Y
Upon the ends of these neat rails	J
Hatch'd with the silver light of snails	J
The elves in formal manner fix	J
Two pure and holy candlesticks	J
In either which a tall small bent	V
Burns for the altar's ornament	V
For sanctity they have to these	J
Their curious copes and surplices	J
Of cleanest cobweb hanging by	G
In their religious vestery	V
They have their ash pans and their brooms	J
To purge the chapel and the rooms	J
Their many mumbling mass priests here	V
And many a dapper chorister	V
Their ush'ring vergers here likewise	J
Their canons and their chaunteries	J
Of cloister monks they have enow	Y
Ay and their abbey lubbers too	V
And if their legend do not lie	G
They much affect the papacy	J
And since the last is dead there's hope	Z
Elve Boniface shall next be Pope	Z
They have their cups and chalices	J
Their pardons and indulgences	J
Their beads of nits bells books and wax	J
Candles forsooth and other knacks	J
Their holy oil their fasting spittle	M
Their sacred salt here not a little	M
Dry chips old shoes rags grease and bones	J
Beside their fumigations	J
Many a trifle too and trinket	V
And for what use scarce man would think it	V
Next then upon the chanter's side	V
An apple's core is hung up dried	V
With rattling kernels which is rung	A2
To call to morn and even song	B2
The saint to which the most he prays	J
And offers incense nights and days	J
The lady of the lobster is	J
Whose foot pace he doth stroke and kiss	J
And humbly chives of saffron brings	J
For his most cheerful offerings	J
When after these he's paid his vows	J
He lowly to the altar bows	J
And then he dons the silk worm's shed	V
Like a Turk's turban on his head	V
And reverently departeth thence	J
Hid in a cloud of frankincense	J
And by the glow worm's light well guided	V
Goes to the Feast that's now provided	V

Robert Herrick

Oberon's Chapel Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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