The Jacquerie: A Fragment: Chapter I Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEFCGHIJKCCLMMC NCCOPQCCRCSCTUVCCWCX YZA2B2KCCC2D2CE2CCF2 RCG2CCCCCH2CCCCCI2J2 K2L2YM2CJ2N2I2CCJ2O2 B2CCP2F2CSIF2Q2P2P2E I2YR2OS2CCP2T2CU2QV2 CCW2F2CCX2Y2Z2A3CCB3 CYC3P2CS2S2Z2Z2CCCCC EED3E3RZ2F3G3F2EP2U2 I2CCCP2EX2Z2U2H3CI3J 3Once on a time a Dawn all red and bright | A |
Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night | A |
And flamed one brilliant instant on the world | B |
Then back into the historic moat was hurled | B |
And Night was King again for many years | C |
Once on a time the Rose of Spring blushed out | D |
But Winter angrily withdrew it back | E |
Into his rough new bursten husk and shut | F |
The stern husk leaves and hid it many years | C |
Once Famine tricked himself with ears of corn | G |
And Hate strung flowers on his spiked belt | H |
And glum Revenge in silver lilies pranked him | I |
And Lust put violets on his shameless front | J |
And all minced forth o' the street like holiday folk | K |
That sally off afield on Summer morns | C |
Once certain hounds that knew of many a chase | C |
And bare great wounds of antler and of tusk | L |
That they had ta'en to give a lord some sport | M |
Good hounds that would have died to give lords sport | M |
Were so bewrayed and kicked by these same lords | C |
That all the pack turned tooth o' the knights and bit | N |
As knights had been no better things than boars | C |
And took revenge as bloody as a man's | C |
Unhoundlike sudden hot i' the chops and sweet | O |
Once sat a falcon on a lady's wrist | P |
Seeming to doze with wrinkled eye lid drawn | Q |
But dreaming hard of hoods and slaveries | C |
And of dim hungers in his heart and wings | C |
Then while the mistress gazed above for game | R |
Sudden he flew into her painted face | C |
And hooked his horn claws in her lily throat | S |
And drove his beak into her lips and eyes | C |
In fierce and hawkish kissing that did scar | T |
And mar the lady's beauty evermore | U |
And once while Chivalry stood tall and lithe | V |
And flashed his sword above the stricken eyes | C |
Of all the simple peasant folk of France | C |
While Thought was keen and hot and quick | W |
And did not play as in these later days | C |
Like summer lightning flickering in the west | X |
As little dreadful as if glow worms lay | Y |
In the cool and watery clouds and glimmered weak | Z |
But gleamed and struck at once or oak or man | A2 |
And left not space for Time to wave his wing | B2 |
Betwixt the instantaneous flash and stroke | K |
While yet the needs of life were brave and fierce | C |
And did not hide their deeds behind their words | C |
And logic came not 'twixt desire and act | C2 |
And Want and Take was the whole Form of life | D2 |
While Love had fires a burning in his veins | C |
And hidden Hate could flash into revenge | E2 |
Ere yet young Trade was 'ware of his big thews | C |
Or dreamed that in the bolder afterdays | C |
He would hew down and bind old Chivalry | F2 |
And drag him to the highest height of fame | R |
And plunge him thence in the sea of still Romance | C |
To lie for aye in never rusted mail | G2 |
Gleaming through quiet ripples of soft songs | C |
And sheens of old traditionary tales | C |
On such a time a certain May arose | C |
From out that blue Sea that between five lands | C |
Lies like a violet midst of five large leaves | C |
Arose from out this violet and flew on | H2 |
And stirred the spirits of the woods of France | C |
And smoothed the brows of moody Auvergne hills | C |
And wrought warm sea tints into maidens' eyes | C |
And calmed the wordy air of market towns | C |
With faint suggestions blown from distant buds | C |
Until the land seemed a mere dream of land | I2 |
And in this dream field Life sat like a dove | J2 |
And cooed across unto her dove mate Death | K2 |
Brooding pathetic by a river lone | L2 |
Oh sharper tangs pierced through this perfumed May | Y |
Strange aches sailed by with odors on the wind | M2 |
As when we kneel in flowers that grow on graves | C |
Of friends who died unworthy of our love | J2 |
King John of France was proving such an ache | N2 |
In English prisons wide and fair and grand | I2 |
Whose long expanses of green park and chace | C |
Did ape large liberty with such success | C |
As smiles of irony ape smiles of love | J2 |
Down from the oaks of Hertford Castle park | O2 |
Double with warm rose breaths of southern Spring | B2 |
Came rumors as if odors too had thorns | C |
Sharp rumors how the three Estates of France | C |
Like old Three headed Cerberus of Hell | P2 |
Had set upon the Duke of Normandy | F2 |
Their rightful Regent snarled in his great face | C |
Snapped jagged teeth in inch breadth of his throat | S |
And blown such hot and savage breath upon him | I |
That he had tossed great sops of royalty | F2 |
Unto the clamorous three mawed baying beast | Q2 |
And was not further on his way withal | P2 |
And had but changed a snarl into a growl | P2 |
How Arnold de Cervolles had ta'en the track | E |
That war had burned along the unhappy land | I2 |
Shouting 'since France is then too poor to pay | Y |
The soldiers that have bloody devoir done | R2 |
And since needs must pardie a man must eat | O |
Arm gentlemen swords slice as well as knives ' | S2 |
And so had tempted stout men from the ranks | C |
And now was adding robbers' waste to war's | C |
Stealing the leavings of remorseless battle | P2 |
And making gaunter the gaunt bones of want | T2 |
How this Cervolles called Arch priest by the mass | C |
Through warm Provence had marched and menace made | U2 |
Against Pope Innocent at Avignon | Q |
And how the Pope nor ate nor drank nor slept | V2 |
Through godly fear concerning his red wines | C |
For if these knaves should sack his holy house | C |
And all the blessed casks be knocked o' the head | W2 |
HORRENDUM all his Holiness' drink to be | F2 |
Profanely guzzled down the reeking throats | C |
Of scoundrels and inflame them on to seize | C |
The massy coffers of the Church's gold | X2 |
And steal mayhap the carven silver shrine | Y2 |
And all the golden crucifixes No | Z2 |
And so the holy father Pope made stir | A3 |
And had sent forth a legate to Cervolles | C |
And treated with him and made compromise | C |
And last had bidden all the Arch priest's troop | B3 |
To come and banquet with him in his house | C |
Where they did wassail high by night and day | Y |
And Father Pope sat at the board and carved | C3 |
Midst jokes that flowed full greasily | P2 |
And priest and soldier trolled good songs for mass | C |
And all the prayers the Priests made were 'pray drink ' | S2 |
And all the oaths the Soldiers swore were 'drink ' | S2 |
Till Mirth sat like a jaunty postillon | Z2 |
Upon the back of Time and urged him on | Z2 |
With piquant spur past chapel and past cross | C |
How Charles King of Navarre in long duress | C |
By mandate of King John within the walls | C |
Of Crevacoeur and then of strong Alleres | C |
In faithful ward of Sir Tristan du Bois | C |
Was now escaped had supped with Guy Kyrec | E |
Had now a pardon of the Regent Duke | E |
By half compulsion of a Paris mob | D3 |
Had turned the people's love upon himself | E3 |
By smooth harangues and now was bold to claim | R |
That France was not the Kingdom of King John | Z2 |
But By our Lady his by right and worth | F3 |
And so was plotting treason in the State | G3 |
And laughing at weak Charles of Normandy | F2 |
Nay these had been like good news to the King | E |
Were any man but bold enough to tell | P2 |
The King what bitter sayings men had made | U2 |
And hawked augmenting up and down the land | I2 |
Against the barons and great lords of France | C |
That fled from English arrows at Poictiers | C |
POICTIERS POICTIERS this grain i' the eye of France | C |
Had swelled it to a big and bloodshot ball | P2 |
That looked with rage upon a world askew | E |
Poictiers' disgrace was now but two years old | X2 |
Yet so outrageous rank and full was grown | Z2 |
That France was wholly overspread with shade | U2 |
And bitter fruits lay on the untilled ground | H3 |
That stank and bred so foul contagious smells | C |
That not a nose in France but stood awry | I3 |
Nor boor that cried not FAUGH upon the air | J3 |
Sidney Lanier
(1)
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