Verses Written To Be Spoken By Mrs. Siddons Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK LLMMNNOOPPQQQQQQQQQQ RRQQQQSSTTUUVPWWXXQQ YYZZQQWA2B2B2C2C2WWI IQQD2D2E2E2QQQQ

Yes 'tis the pulse of life my fears were vainA
I wake I breathe and am myself againB
Still in this nether world no seraph yetC
Nor walks my spirit when the sun is setC
With troubled step to haunt the fatal boardD
Where I died last by poison or the swordD
Blanching each honest cheek with deeds of nightE
Done here so oft by dim and doubtful lightE
To drop all metaphor that little bellF
Call'd back reality and broke the spellF
No heroine claims your tears with tragic toneG
A very woman scarce restrains her ownG
Can she with fiction charm the cheated mindH
When to be grateful is the part assign'dH
Ah No she scorns the trappings of her ArtI
No theme but truth no prompter but the heartI
But Ladies say must I alone unmaskJ
Is here no other actress let me askJ
Believe me those who best the heart dissectK
Know every Woman studies stage effectK
She moulds her manners to the part she fillsL
As Instinct teaches or as Humour willsL
And as the grave or gay her talent callsM
Acts in the drama till the curtain fallsM
First how her little breast with triumph swellsN
When the red coral rings its golden bellsN
To play in pantomime is then the rageO
Along the carpet's many colour'd stageO
Or lisp her merry thoughts with loud endeavourP
Now here now there in noise and mischief everP
A school girl next she curls her hair in papersQ
And mimics father's gout and mother's vapoursQ
Discards her doll bribes Betty for romancesQ
Playful at church and serious when she dancesQ
Tramples alike on customs and on toesQ
And whispers all she hears to all she knowsQ
Terror of caps and wigs and sober notionsQ
A romp that longest of perpetual motionsQ
Till tam'd and tortur'd into foreign gracesQ
She sports her lovely face at public placesQ
And with blue laughing eyes behind her fanR
First acts her part with that great actor MANR
Too soon a flirt approach her and she fliesQ
Frowns when pursued and when entreated sighsQ
Plays with unhappy men as cats with miceQ
Till fading beauty hints the late adviceQ
Her prudence dictates what her pride disdain'dS
And now she sues to slaves herself had chain'dS
Then comes that good old character a WifeT
With all the dear distracting cares of lifeT
A thousand cards a day at doors to leaveU
And in return a thousand cards receiveU
Rouge high play deep to lead the ton aspireV
With nightly blaze set PORTLAND PLACE on fireP
Snatch half a glimpse at Concert Opera BallW
A Meteor trac'd by none tho' seen by allW
And when her shatter'd nerves forbid to roamX
In very spleen rehearse the girls at homeX
Last the grey Dowager in antient flouncesQ
With snuff and spectacles the age denouncesQ
Boasts how the Sires of this degenerate IsleY
Knelt for a look and duell'd for a smileY
The scourge and ridicule of Goth and VandalZ
Her tea she sweetens as she sips with scandalZ
With modern Belles eternal warfare wagesQ
Like her own birds that clamour from their cagesQ
And shuffles round to bear her tale to allW
Like some old Ruin 'nodding to its fall 'A2
Thus WOMAN makes her entrance and her exitB2
Not least an actress when she least suspects itB2
Yet Nature oft peeps out and mars the plotC2
Each lesson lost each poor pretence forgotC2
Full oft with energy that scorns controulW
At once lights up the features of the soulW
Unlocks each thought chain'd by coward ArtI
And to full day the latent passions startI
And she whose first best wish is your applauseQ
Herself exemplifies the truth she drawsQ
Born on the stage thro' every shifting sceneD2
Obscure or bright tempestuous or sereneD2
Still has your smile her trembling spirit fir'dE2
And can she act with thoughts like these inspir'dE2
Thus from her mind all artifice she flingsQ
All skill all practice now unmeaning thingsQ
To you uncheck'd each genuine feeling flowsQ
For all that life endears to you she owesQ

Samuel Rogers



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About Verses Written To Be Spoken By Mrs. Siddons

Verses Written To Be Spoken By Mrs. Siddons is a poem by Samuel Rogers. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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