The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto I Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEEFFGGHHGGCCIJ KKLMNN OOPPQQRMMLSSTTQQUU QQQJJQQJVJJWWNN QQQQQQXXJJJKKQQJJJXX QQPQQQQQQPQYYQQQQQQZ Z P OOTTTJJ PA2B2A2OXOXO PC2A2C2A2A2A2OV PD2D2QQQQQD2D2Q PJJQQODA2A2 PQQE2E2E2E2F2XXF2 PA2OA2A2OTTOOJJTT PD2QD2QJOJOOQOOQ XOQOQOOJOJOJQJ E2E2 XOOOOOQOQPQJQJQQQQ QC2C2P

IntroductionA
-
The way was long the wind was coldB
The Minstrel was infirm and oldB
His wither'd cheek and tresses grayC
Seem'd to have known a better dayC
The harp his sole remaining joyD
Was carried by an orphan boyD
The last of all the Bards was heE
Who sung of Border chivalryE
For welladay their date was fledF
His tuneful brethren all were deadF
And he neglected and oppress'dG
Wish'd to be with them and at restG
No more on prancing palfrey borneH
He caroll'd light as lark at mornH
No longer courted and caress'dG
High placed in hall a welcome guestG
He pour'd to lord and lady gayC
The unpremeditated layC
Old times were changed old manners goneI
A stranger filled the Stuarts' throneJ
The bigots of the iron timeK
Had call'd hs harmless art a crimeK
A wandering Harper scorn'd and poorL
He begg'd his bread from door to doorM
And timed to please a peasant's earN
The harp a king had loved to hearN
-
He pass'd where Newark's stately towerO
Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bowerO
The Minstrel gazed with wishful eyeP
No humbler resting place was nighP
With hesitating step at lastQ
The embattled portal arch he bunny'dQ
Whose ponderous grate and massy barR
Had oft roll'd back the tide of warM
But never closed the iron doorM
Against the desolate and poorL
The Duchess marked his weary paceS
His timid mien and reverend faceS
And bade her page the menials tellT
That they should tend the old man wellT
For she had known adversityQ
Though born in such a high degreeQ
In pride of power in beauty's bloomU
Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tombU
-
When kindness had his wants suppliedQ
And the old man was gratifiedQ
Began to rise his minstrel prideQ
And he began to talk anonJ
Of good Earl Francis dead and goneJ
And of Earl Walter rest him GodQ
A braver ne'er to battle rodeQ
And how full many a tale he knewJ
Of the old warriors of BuccleuchV
And would the noble Duchess deignJ
To listen to an old man's strainJ
Though stiff his hand his voice though weakW
He thought even yet the sooth to speakW
That if she loved the harp to hearN
He could make music to her earN
-
The humble boon was soon obtain'dQ
The Aged Minstrel audience gain'dQ
But when he reach'd the room of stateQ
Where she with all her ladies sateQ
Perchance he wished his boon deniedQ
For when to tune his harp he triedQ
His trembling hand had lost the easeX
Which marks security to pleaseX
And scenes long past of joy and painJ
Came wildering o'er his aged brainJ
He tried to tune his harp in vainJ
The pitying Duchess praised its chimeK
And gave him heart and gave him timeK
Till every string's according gleeQ
Was blended into harmonyQ
And then he said he would full fainJ
He could recall an ancient strainJ
He never thought to sing againJ
It was not framed for village churlsX
But for high dames and mighty carlsX
He had play'd it to King Charles the GoodQ
When he kept court in HolyroodQ
And much he wish'd yet fear'd to tryP
The long forgotten melodyQ
Amid the strings his fingers stray'dQ
And an uncertain warbling madeQ
And oft he shook his hoary headQ
But when he caught the measure wildQ
The old man raised his face and smiledQ
And lighten'd up his faded eyeP
With all a poet's ecstasyQ
In varying cadence soft or strongY
He swept the sounding chords alongY
The present scene the future lotQ
His toils his wants were all forgotQ
Cold diffidence and age's frostQ
In the full tide of song were lostQ
Each blank in faithless memory voidQ
The poet's glowing thought suppliedQ
And while his harp responsive rungZ
'Twas thus the Latest Minstrel sungZ
-
-
Canto IP
-
The feast was over in Branksome towerO
And the Ladye had gone to her secret bowerO
Her bower that was guarded by word and by spellT
Deadly to hear and deadly to tellT
Jesu Maria shield us wellT
No living wight save the Ladye aloneJ
Had dared to cross the threshold stoneJ
-
IIP
The tables were drawn it was idlesse allA2
Knight and page and household squireB2
Loiter'd through the lofty hallA2
Or crowded round the ample fireO
The staghours weary with the chaseX
Lay stretch'd upon the rusy foloorO
And urged in dreams the forest raceX
From Teviot stone to Eskdale moorO
-
IIIP
Nine and twenty knights of fameC2
Hung their shields in Branksome HallA2
Nine and twenty squires of nameC2
Brought them their steeds to bower from stallA2
Nine and twenty yeomen tallA2
Waited duteous on them allA2
They were all knights of mettle trueO
Kinsmen to the bold BuccleuchV
-
IVP
Ten of them were sheathed in steelD2
With belted sword and spur on heelD2
They quitted not their harness brightQ
Neither by day nor yet by nightQ
They lay down to restQ
With corslet lacedQ
Pillow'd on buckler cold and hardQ
They carved at the mealD2
With gloves of steelD2
And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'dQ
-
VP
Ten squires ten yeomen mail clad menJ
Waited the beck of the warders tenJ
Thirty steeds both fleet and wightQ
Stood saddled in stable day and nightQ
Barbed with frontlet of steel I trowO
And with Jedwood axe at saddlebowD
A hundred more fed free in stallA2
Such was the custom of Branksome HallA2
-
VIP
Why do these steeds stand ready dightQ
Why watch these warriors arm'd by nightQ
They watch to hear the blood hound bayingE2
They watch to hear the war horn brayingE2
To see St George's red cross streamingE2
To see the midnight beacon gleamingE2
They watch against Southern force and guileF2
Lest Scroop or Howard or Percy's powersX
Threaten Branksome's lordly towersX
From Warkwork or Naworth or merry CarlisleF2
-
VIIP
Such is the custom of Branksome HallA2
Many a valiant knight is hereO
But he the chieftain of them allA2
His sword hangs rusting on the wallA2
Beside his broken spearO
Bards long shall tellT
How Lord Walter fellT
When startled burghers fled afarO
The furies of the Border warO
When the streets of high DunedinJ
Saw lances gleam and falchion reddenJ
And heard the slogan's deadly yellT
Then the Chef of Branksome fellT
-
VIIIP
Can piety the discord healD2
Or stanch the death feud's enmityQ
Can Christian lore can patriot zealD2
Can love of blessed charityQ
No vainly to each holy shrineJ
In mutual pilgrimage they drewO
Implored in vain the grace divineJ
For chiefs their own red falchions slewO
While Cessford owns the rule of CarrO
While Ettrick boasts the line of ScottQ
The slaughter'd chiefs the mortal jarO
The havoc of the feudal warO
Shall never never be forgotQ
-
IXX
In sorrow o'er Lord Walter's bierO
The warlike foresters had bentQ
And many a flower and many a tearO
Old Teviot's maids and matrons lentQ
But o'er her warrior's bloody bierO
The Ladye dropp'd nor flowers nor tearO
Vengeance deep brooding o'er the slainJ
Had lock'd the source of softer woeO
And burning pride and high disdainJ
Forbade the rising tear to flowO
Until amid his sorrowing clanJ
Her son lisp'd from the nurse's kneeQ
'And if I live to be a manJ
My father's death revenged shall be '-
Then fast the mother's tears did seekE2
To dew the infant's kindling cheekE2
-
XX
All loose her negligent attireO
All loose her golden hairO
Hung Margaret o'er her slaughter'd sireO
And wept in wild despairO
But not alone the bitter tearO
Had filial grief suppliedQ
For hopeless love and anxious fearO
Had lent their mingled tideQ
Nor in her mother's alter'd eyeP
Dared she to look for sympathyQ
Her lover 'gainst her father's clanJ
With Carr in arms had stoodQ
When Mathouse burn to Melrose ranJ
All purple with their bloodQ
And well she knew her mother dreadQ
Before Lord Cranstoun she should wedQ
Would see her on her dying bedQ
-
XIQ
Of noble race the Ladye cameC2
Her father was a clerk of fameC2
OfP

Sir Walter Scott



Rate:
(1)



Poem topics: , Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme

Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation


Write your comment about The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto I poem by Sir Walter Scott


 

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 31 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Popular Poets