The Lay Of The Last Minstrel: Canto Ii. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBBBBBCCDDDBEEFFGG AGGHHB BBBIBI ABBBBBBBBFF EDJD IBIB DDBDBBKBKLLMMMD ENNDDMN EBDBDEEMMBB EBBMMOPBPFBFBBB DMFEFFFQQBB DNNFRRRFBB DRRBBBBRRBBBBBBRR DRFRFBBMM DBBSEESDDDRRRR EBBBBDDBBEE ETTBBMMBBBBEE EBBB RRBBBB EBBBBF RRTTBB EBBREI | A |
If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright | B |
Go visit it by the pale moonlight | B |
For the gay beams of lightsome day | B |
Gild but to flout the ruins grey | B |
When the broken arches are black in night | B |
And each shafted oriel glimmers white | B |
When the cold light's uncertain shower | C |
Streams on the ruin'd central tower | C |
When buttress and buttress alternately | D |
Seem framed of ebon and ivory | D |
When silver edges the imagery | D |
And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die | B |
When distant Tweed is heard to rave | E |
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave | E |
Then go but go alone the while | F |
Then view St David's ruin'd pile | F |
And home returning soothly swear | G |
Was never scene so sad and fair | G |
- | |
II | A |
Short halt did Deloraine make there | G |
Little reck'd he of the scene so fair | G |
With dagger's hilt on the wicket strong | H |
He struck full loud and struck full long | H |
The porter hurried to the gate | B |
'Who knocks so loud and knocks so late ' | - |
'From Branksome I ' the warrior cried | B |
And straight the wicket open'd wide | B |
For Branksome's Chiefs had in battle stood | B |
To fence the rights of fair Melrose | I |
And lands and livings many a rood | B |
Had gifted the shrine for their souls' repose | I |
- | |
III | A |
Bold Deloraine his errand said | B |
The porter bent his humble head | B |
With torch in hand and feet unshod | B |
And noiseless step the path he trod | B |
The arched cloister far and wide | B |
Rang to the warrior's clanking stride | B |
Till stooping low his lofty crest | B |
He enter'd the cell of the ancient priest | B |
And lifted his barred aventayle | F |
To hail the Monk of St Mary's aisle | F |
- | |
IV | E |
'The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me | D |
Says that the fated hour is come | J |
And that to night I shall watch with thee | D |
To win the treasure of the tomb ' | - |
From sackcloth couch the Monk arose | I |
With toil his stiffen'd limbs he rear'd | B |
A hundred years had flung their snows | I |
On his thin locks and floating beard | B |
- | |
V | D |
And strangely on the Knight look'd he | D |
And his blue eyes gleam'd wild and wide | B |
'And darest thou Warrior seek to see | D |
What heaven and hell alike would hide | B |
My breast in belt of iron pent | B |
With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn | K |
For threescore years in penance spent | B |
My knees those flinty stones have worn | K |
Yet all too little to atone | L |
For knowing what should ne'er be known | L |
Would'st thou thy very future year | M |
In ceaseless prayer and penance drie | M |
Yet wait thy latter end with fear | M |
Then daring Warrior follow me | D |
- | |
VI | E |
'Penance father will I none | N |
Prayer know I hardly one | N |
For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry | D |
Save to patter an Ave Mary | D |
When I ride on a Border foray | M |
Other prayer can I none | N |
So speed me my errand and let me be gone ' | - |
- | |
VII | E |
Again on the Knight look'd the Churchman old | B |
And again he sighed heavily | D |
For he had himself been a warrior bold | B |
And fought in Spain and Italy | D |
And he thought on the days that were long since by | E |
When his limbs were strong and his courage was high | E |
Now slow and faint he led the way | M |
Where cloister'd round the garden lay | M |
The pillar'd arches were over their head | B |
And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead | B |
- | |
VIII | E |
Spreading herbs and flowerets bright | B |
Glisten'd with the dew of night | B |
Nor herb nor floweret glisten'd there | M |
But was carved in the cloister arches as fair | M |
The monk gazed long on the lovely moon | O |
Then into the night he looked forth | P |
And red and bright the streamers light | B |
Were dancing in the glowing north | P |
So had he seen in fair Castille | F |
The youth in glittering squadrons start | B |
Sudden the flying jennet wheel | F |
And hurl the unexpected dart | B |
He knew by the streamers that shot so bright | B |
That spirits were riding the northern light | B |
- | |
IX | D |
By a steel clenched postern door | M |
They enter'd now the chancel tall | F |
The darken'd roof rose high aloof | E |
On pillars lofty and light and small | F |
The key stone that lock'd each ribbed aisle | F |
Was a fleur de lys or a quatre geuille | F |
The corbells were carved grotesque and grim | Q |
And the pillars with cluster'd shafts so trim | Q |
With base and with capital flourish'd around | B |
Seem'd bundles of lances which garlands had bound | B |
- | |
X | D |
Full many a scutcheon and banner riven | N |
Shook to the cold night wind of heaven | N |
Around the screen d altar's pale | F |
And there the dying lamps did burn | R |
Before thy low and lonely urn | R |
O gallant Chief of Otterburne | R |
And thine dark Knight of Liddesdale | F |
O fading honours of the dead | B |
O high ambition lowly laid | B |
- | |
XI | D |
The moon on the east oriel shone | R |
Through slender shafts of shapely stone | R |
By foliaged tracery combined | B |
Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand | B |
'Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand | B |
In many a freakish know had twined | B |
Then framed a spell when the work was done | R |
And changed the willow wreaths to stone | R |
The silver light so pale and faint | B |
Shew'd many a prophet and many a saint | B |
Whose image on the glass was dyed | B |
Full in the midst his Cross of Red | B |
Triumphant Michael brandished | B |
And trampled the Apostate's pride | B |
The moon beam kiss'd the holy pane | R |
And threw on the pavement a bloody stain | R |
- | |
XII | D |
They sate them down on a marble stone | R |
A Scottish monarch slept below | F |
Thus spoke the Monk in solemn tone | R |
'I was not always a man of woe | F |
For Paynim coutries have I trod | B |
And fought beneath the Cross of God | B |
Now strange to my eyes thine arms appear | M |
And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear | M |
- | |
XIII | D |
'In these far climes it was my lot | B |
To meet the wondrous Michael Scott | B |
A wizard of such dreaded fame | S |
Than when in Salmanca's cave | E |
Him listed his magic wand to wave | E |
The bells would ring in Notre Dame | S |
Some of his skill he taught to me | D |
And Warrior I could say to thee | D |
The words that cleft Eildon hills in three | D |
And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone | R |
But to speak them were a deadly sin | R |
And for having but thought them my heart within | R |
A treble penance must be done | R |
- | |
XIV | E |
'When Michael lay on his dying bed | B |
His conscience was awakened | B |
He bethought him of his sinful deed | B |
And he gave me a sign to come with speed | B |
I was in Spain when the morning rose | D |
But I stood by his bed ere evening close | D |
The words may not again be said | B |
That he spoke to me on death bed laid | B |
They would rend they Abbay's massy nave | E |
And pile it in heaps above his grave | E |
- | |
XV | E |
'I swore to bury his Mighty Book | T |
That never mortal might therein look | T |
And never to tell where it was hid | B |
Save at his Chief of Branksome's need | B |
And when that need was past and o'er | M |
Again the volume to restore | M |
I buried him on St Michael's night | B |
When the bell toll'd one and the moon was bright | B |
And I dug his chamber among the dead | B |
When the floor of the chancel was stained red | B |
That his patron's cross might over him wave | E |
And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave | E |
- | |
XVI | E |
'It was a night of woe and dread | B |
When Michael in the tomb I laid | B |
Strange sounds along the chancel pass'd | B |
The banners waved without a blast ' | - |
Still spoke the Monk when the bell toll'd one | R |
I tell you that a braver man | R |
Than William of Deloraine good at need | B |
Against a foe ne'er spurr'd a steed | B |
Yet somewhat was he chill'd with dread | B |
And his hair did bristle upon his head | B |
- | |
XVII | E |
'Lo Warrior now the Cross of Red | B |
Points to the grave of the mighty dead | B |
Within it burns a wondrous light | B |
To chase the spirits that love the night | B |
That lamp shall burn unquenchably | F |
Until the eternal doom shall be ' | - |
Slowly moved the Monk to the broad flagstone | R |
Which the bloody Cross was traced upon | R |
He pointed to a secret nook | T |
An iron bar the Warrior took | T |
And the Monk made a sign with his wither'd hand | B |
The grave's huge portal to expand | B |
- | |
XVIII | E |
With beating heart to the task he went | B |
His sinewy frame o'er the grave stone bent | B |
With bar of iron heaved amain | R |
Till the toil drops fe | E |
Sir Walter Scott
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