Botany Bay Eclogues 03 - Humphrey And William Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A B CCDDEE F GGHHDIJJKLMMNN B OOCCII F PPNNQQRRSSTTUN B VVBB F WWVVXXYYZCA2A2B2B2C2 C2D2CSSE2 B F2F2WWG2G2H2H2GGOOOO I2I2MMC2C2BBDDJ2J2K2 K2J2J2L2L2D2D2BBIIC2 C2M2M2OON2N2O2O2OOOO N2N2OOC2C2OOP2L2Q2Q2 IIN2N2NNR2R2BBC2C2BB BBBB| Time Noon | A |
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| HUMPHREY | B |
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| See'st thou not William that the scorching Sun | C |
| By this time half his daily race has run | C |
| The savage thrusts his light canoe to shore | D |
| And hurries homeward with his fishy store | D |
| Suppose we leave awhile this stubborn soil | E |
| To eat our dinner and to rest from toil | E |
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| WILLIAM | F |
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| Agreed Yon tree whose purple gum bestows | G |
| A ready medicine for the sick man's woes | G |
| Forms with its shadowy boughs a cool retreat | H |
| To shield us from the noontide's sultry heat | H |
| Ah Humphrey now upon old England's shore | D |
| The weary labourer's morning work is o'er | I |
| The woodman now rests from his measur'd stroke | J |
| Flings down his axe and sits beneath the oak | J |
| Savour'd with hunger there he eats his food | K |
| There drinks the cooling streamlet of the wood | L |
| To us no cooling streamlet winds its way | M |
| No joys domestic crown for us the day | M |
| The felon's name the outcast's garb we wear | N |
| Toil all the day and all the night despair | N |
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| HUMPHREY | B |
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| Ah William labouring up the furrowed ground | O |
| I used to love the village clock's dull sound | O |
| Rejoice to hear my morning toil was done | C |
| And trudge it homewards when the clock went one | C |
| 'Twas ere I turn'd a soldier and a sinner | I |
| Pshaw curse this whining let us fall to dinner | I |
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| WILLIAM | F |
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| I too have loved this hour nor yet forgot | P |
| Each joy domestic of my little cot | P |
| For at this hour my wife with watchful care | N |
| Was wont each humbler dainty to prepare | N |
| The keenest sauce by hunger was supplied | Q |
| And my poor children prattled at my side | Q |
| Methinks I see the old oak table spread | R |
| The clean white trencher and the good brown bread | R |
| The cheese my daily food which Mary made | S |
| For Mary knew full well the housewife's trade | S |
| The jug of cyder cyder I could make | T |
| And then the knives I won 'em at the wake | T |
| Another has them now I toiling here | U |
| Look backward like a child and drop a tear | N |
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| HUMPHREY | B |
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| I love a dismal story tell me thine | V |
| Meantime good Will I'll listen as I dine | V |
| I too my friend can tell a piteous story | B |
| When I turn'd hero how I purchas'd glory | B |
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| WILLIAM | F |
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| But Humphrey sure thou never canst have known | W |
| The comforts of a little home thine own | W |
| A home so snug So chearful too as mine | V |
| 'Twas always clean and we could make it fine | V |
| For there King Charles's golden rules were seen | X |
| And there God bless 'em both the King and Queen | X |
| The pewter plates our garnish'd chimney grace | Y |
| So nicely scour'd you might have seen your face | Y |
| And over all to frighten thieves was hung | Z |
| Well clean'd altho' but seldom us'd my gun | C |
| Ah that damn'd gun I took it down one morn | A2 |
| A desperate deal of harm they did my corn | A2 |
| Our testy Squire too loved to save the breed | B2 |
| So covey upon covey eat my seed | B2 |
| I mark'd the mischievous rogues and took my aim | C2 |
| I fir'd they fell and up the keeper came | C2 |
| That cursed morning brought on my undoing | D2 |
| I went to prison and my farm to ruin | C |
| Poor Mary for her grave the parish paid | S |
| No tomb stone tells where her cold corpse is laid | S |
| My children my dear boys | E2 |
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| HUMPHREY | B |
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| Come Grief is dry | F2 |
| You to your dinner to my story I | F2 |
| To you my friend who happier days have known | W |
| And each calm comfort of a home your own | W |
| This is bad living I have spent my life | G2 |
| In hardest toil and unavailing strife | G2 |
| And here from forest ambush safe at least | H2 |
| To me this scanty pittance seems a feast | H2 |
| I was a plough boy once as free from woes | G |
| And blithesome as the lark with whom I rose | G |
| Each evening at return a meal I found | O |
| And tho' my bed was hard my sleep was sound | O |
| One Whitsuntide to go to fair I drest | O |
| Like a great bumkin in my Sunday's best | O |
| A primrose posey in my hat I stuck | I2 |
| And to the revel went to try my luck | I2 |
| From show to show from booth to booth I stray | M |
| See stare and wonder all the live long day | M |
| A Serjeant to the fair recruiting came | C2 |
| Skill'd in man catching to beat up for game | C2 |
| Our booth he enter'd and sat down by me | B |
| Methinks even now the very scene I see | B |
| The canvass roof the hogshead's running store | D |
| The old blind fiddler seated next the door | D |
| The frothy tankard passing to and fro | J2 |
| And the rude rabble round the puppet show | J2 |
| The Serjeant eyed me well the punch bowl comes | K2 |
| And as we laugh'd and drank up struck the drums | K2 |
| And now he gives a bumper to his Wench | J2 |
| God save the King and then God damn the French | J2 |
| Then tells the story of his last campaign | L2 |
| How many wounded and how many slain | L2 |
| Flags flying cannons roaring drums a beating | D2 |
| The English marching on the French retreating | D2 |
| Push on push on my lads they fly before ye | B |
| March on to riches happiness and glory | B |
| At first I wonder'd by degrees grew bolder | I |
| Then cried tis a fine thing to be a soldier | I |
| Aye Humphrey says the Serjeant that's your name | C2 |
| 'Tis a fine thing to fight the French for fame | C2 |
| March to the field knock out a Mounseer's brains | M2 |
| And pick the scoundrel's pocket for your pains | M2 |
| Come Humphrey come thou art a lad of spirit | O |
| Rise to a halbert as I did by merit | O |
| Would'st thou believe it even I was once | N2 |
| As thou art now a plough boy and a dunce | N2 |
| But Courage rais'd me to my rank How now boy | O2 |
| Shall Hero Humphrey still be Numps the plough boy | O2 |
| A proper shaped young fellow tall and straight | O |
| Why thou wert made for glory five feet eight | O |
| The road to riches is the field of fight | O |
| Didst ever see a guinea look so bright | O |
| Why regimentals Numps would give thee grace | N2 |
| A hat and feather would become that face | N2 |
| The girls would crowd around thee to be kist | O |
| Dost love a girl Od Zounds I cried I'll list | O |
| So past the night anon the morning came | C2 |
| And off I set a volunteer for fame | C2 |
| Back shoulders turn out your toes hold up your head | O |
| Stand easy so I did till almost dead | O |
| Oh how I long'd to tend the plough again | P2 |
| Trudge up the field and whistle o'er the plain | L2 |
| When tir'd and sore amid the piteous throng | Q2 |
| Hungry and cold and wet I limp'd along | Q2 |
| And growing fainter as I pass'd and colder | I |
| Curs'd that ill hour when I became a soldier | I |
| In town I found the hours more gayly pass | N2 |
| And Time fled swiftly with my girl and glass | N2 |
| The girls were wonderous kind and wonderous fair | N |
| They soon transferred me to the Doctor's care | N |
| The Doctor undertook to cure the evil | R2 |
| And he almost transferred me to the Devil | R2 |
| 'Twere tedious to relate the dismal story | B |
| Of fighting fasting wretchedness and glory | B |
| At last discharg'd to England's shores I came | C2 |
| Paid for my wounds with want instead of fame | C2 |
| Found my fair friends and plunder'd as they bade me | B |
| They kist me coax'd me robb'd me and betray'd me | B |
| Tried and condemn'd his Majesty transports me | B |
| And here in peace I thank him he supports me | B |
| So ends my dismal and heroic story | B |
| And Humphrey gets more good from guilt than glory | B |
Robert Southey
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About Botany Bay Eclogues 03 - Humphrey And William
Botany Bay Eclogues 03 - Humphrey And William is a poem by Robert Southey. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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