A Musing On A Victory Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABBABA CDCCDCD EFFEEF GHHHIBJBIKHIIL MNNHHHOOHOOPOOP HQHHHHQRSTTHHRSUU VUWXYYZHA2B2B2HAAHB2 HW HC2NHHD2HNE2HF2G2G2F 2AAHHHHHVVFFH2AAH2

Down by the Sutlej shoreA
Where sound the trumpet and the wild tum tumB
At winter's eve did comeB
A gaunt old northern lion at whose roarA
The myriad howlers of thy wilds are dumbB
Blood stained FerozeporeA
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In the rich Indian nightC
And dreaming of his mate beyond the seaD
Toil worn but grand to sightC
He made his lair in mightC
Beneath thy dark palm treeD
And thou didst rouse him to the unequal fightC
And woe for theeD
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For some of that wild landE
Had heard him in the desert where he layF
And soon he snuffs upon their hurtling wayF
The hunters bandby bandE
And up he gat him from the eastern sandE
And leaped upon his preyF
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Alas for man Alas for all thy dreamsG
Thou great somnambulist wherein outlawedH
From right and thought thou workest out unawedH
Thy grand fantastic fancies Thro' the floodH
The pestilence the whirlwind the dread plainI
Of thunders thro' the earthquake and the stormB
The deluge and the snows the whirling iceJ
Of the wild glacier every ghastly formB
Of earth's most vexed vicissitudes of painI
Thro' worlds of fire and seas of mingled bloodsK
Thou rushest dreadful as a maniac godH
And only finding that thou wert not saneI
When some great sorrow thunders at thy brainI
And wakes thee trembling by a precipiceL
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Alas for thee thou grey haired man that stillM
Art sleeping and canst hold thy grandchild highN
That he may see the gorgeous wrong go byN
Which slew his father And for thee thou brightH
Inheritress of summer time and lightH
Alas for thee that thy young cheek is flush'dH
With dreaming of the lion and the foeO
Tho' it had been yet paler than the snowO
Upon the battle hill if once had gush'dH
But once before thee even the feeblest flowO
Of that life's blood that swept in floods belowO
Alas that even thy beauty cannot breakP
The vampyre spell of such a war dream's woeO
Alas tho' waking might have been to knowO
Things which had made it sweeter not to wakeP
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Alas for man poor hunchback all so proudH
And yet so conscious man that stalks divineQ
Because he feels so mortal speaking loudH
To drown the trembling whisper in his heartH
And wildly hurrying on from crowd to crowdH
In hope to shun the faithful shapes that startH
Wherever lake doth sleep or streamlet shineQ
In silent solitudes When once in youthR
Fresh from the spheres and too severely wiseS
Truth drew the face he longed yet feared to viewT
Stung with the instinct that confessed it trueT
He dashed the tablets from her sacred handH
She drops her singing robes and leaves his landH
And Fiction decent in the garb of TruthR
While lurking mischief lights her lambent eyesS
Seizes the fallen pencil and with graveU
Historic features paints the lies we craveU
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So war became a welcome woe The grassV
Grows tear bedewed upon a lonely graveU
And we plant sad flow'rs and sweet epitaphsW
And every grief of monumental stoneX
Above a single woe but let men sleepY
In thousands and we choose their hideous heapY
For Joy to hold his godless orgies onZ
Is it that some strange law's unknown behestH
Makes gladness of the greatest woes we haveA2
And leaves us but to sorrow for the lessB2
Even as in outward nature light's excessB2
Is blindness and intensest motion restH
Or is it not oh conscious heart declareA
That the vast pride of our o'erwrought despairA
Seeing the infinite grief and knowing yetH
We have no tears to pay such deep distressB2
Grown wild repudiates the direful debtH
And in its very bankrupt madness laughsW
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Yet when this Victory's fame shall pass as grandH
And griefless as a rich man's funeralC2
Thro' nations that look on with spell bound eyeN
While echoing plaudits ring from land to landH
Alas will there be none among the goodH
And great and brave and free to speak of allD2
The pale piled pestilence of flesh and bloodH
The common cold corruption that doth lieN
Festering beneath the pallE2
Alas when time has deified the thoughtH
Of this day's desperate devilry and menF2
Who scorn to inherit virtue but will apeG2
Their sires and bless them when they sin shall shapeG2
A graven image of the thought and thenF2
Fall down to worship it will no one dareA
While nations kneel before the idol thereA
To stand and tell them it is JuggernautH
Alas for man if this new crime shall yieldH
To truth no harvest for the sighs it costH
If this crowned corpse this pale ensceptred ghostH
That stalks Ferozepore from thy red fieldH
Robed as a king shall all unchallenged passV
Down the proud scene of Time Alas alasV
If there are some to weep and some to prayF
And none to bow their humbled heads and sayF
Low sighing There hath been a mortal strifeH2
And thirteen thousand murdered men lie thereA
And day and night upon the tainted airA
Blaspheme the Lord of LifeH2

Sydney Thompson Dobell



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