The Prophecy Of Capys Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Thomas Babbington Macaulay

The Prophecy Of Capys Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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A Lay Sung at the Banquet in the Capitol on the Day Whereon Manius Curius Dentatus a Second Time Consul Triumphed Over King Pyrrhus and the Tarentines in the Year of the City CCCCLXXIX	A
	-
	-
I	-
Now slain is King Amulius	A
Of the great Sylvian line	B
Who reigned in Alba Longa	C
On the throne of Aventine	B
Slain is the Ponfiff Camers	A
Who spake the words of doom	D
'The children to the Tiber	E
The mother to the tomb '	-
	-
II	-
In Alba's lake no fisher	E
His net to day is flinging	C
On the dark rind of Alba's oaks	A
To day no axe is ringing	C
The yoke hangs o'er the manger	E
The scythe lies in the hay	F
Through all the Alban villages	A
No work is done to day	F
	-
III	-
And every Alban burgher	E
Hath donned his whitest gown	B
And every head in Alba	G
Weareth a poplar crown	B
And every Alban door post	H
With boughs and flowers is gay	F
For to day the dead are living	C
The lost are found to day	F
	-
IV	I
They were doomed by a bloody king	C
They were doomed by a lying priest	J
They were cast on the raging flood	K
They were tracked by the raging beast	J
Raging beast and raging flood	K
Alike have spared the prey	F
And to day the dead are living	C
The lost are found to day	F
	-
V	I
The troubled river knew them	L
And smoothed his yellow foam	M
And gently rocked the cradle	N
That bore the fate of Rome	M
The ravening she wolf knew them	L
And licked them o'er and o'er	E
And gave them of her own fierce milk	C
Rich with raw flesh and gore	O
Twenty winters twenty springs	A
Since then have rolled away	F
And to day the dead are living	C
The lost are found to day	F
	-
VI	I
Blithe it was to see the twins	A
Right goodly youths and tall	P
Marching from Alba Longa	C
To their old grandsire's hall	P
Along their path fresh garlands	A
Are hung from tree to tree	I
Before them stride the pipers	A
Piping a note of glee	I
	-
VII	I
On the right goes Romulus	A
With arms to the elbows red	Q
And in his hand a broadsword	R
And on the blade a head	Q
A head in an iron helmet	S
With horse hair hanging down	B
A shaggy head a swarthy head	Q
Fixed in a ghastly frown	B
The head of King Amulius	A
Of the great Sylvian line	B
Who reigned in Alba Longa	C
On the throne of Aventine	B
	-
VIII	I
On the left side goes Remus	A
With wrists and fingers red	Q
And in his hand a boar spear	T
And on the point a head	Q
A wrinkled head and aged	U
With silver beard and hair	V
And holy fillets round it	W
Such as the pontiffs wear	V
The head of ancient Camers	A
Who spake the words of doom	D
'The children to the Tiber	E
The mother to the tomb '	-
	-
IX	A
Two and two behind the twins	A
Their trusty comrades go	C
Four and forty valiant men	B
With club and axe and bow	X
On each side every hamlet	S
Pours forth its joyous crowd	Y
Shouting lads and baying dogs	A
And children laughing loud	Y
And old men weeping fondly	I
As Rhea's boys go by	I
And maids who shriek to see the heads	A
Yet shrieking press more nigh	I
	-
X	A
So marched they along the lake	C
They marched by fold and stall	P
By cornfield and by vineyard	Z
Unto the old man's hall	P
	-
XI	I
In the hall gate sat Capys	I
Capys the sightless seer	A2
From head to foot he trembled	B2
As Romulus drew near	T
And up stood stiff his thin white hair	V
And his blind eyes flashed fire	E
'Hail foster child of the wondrous nurse	I
Hail son of the wondrous sire '	-
	-
XII	I
'But thou what dost thou here	A2
In the old man's peaceful hall	P
What doth the eagle in the coop	C2
The bison in the stall	P
Our corn fills many a garner	E
Our vines clasp many a tree	I
Our flocks are white on many a hill	D2
But these are not for thee	I
	-
XIII	I
'For thee no treasure ripens	I
In the Tartessian mine	B
For thee no ship brings precious bales	I
Across the Libyan brine	B
Thou shalt not drink from amber	E
Thou shalt not rest on down	B
Arabia shall not steep thy locks	I
Nor Sidon tinge thy gown	B
	-
XIV	I
'Leave gold and myrrh and jewels	I
Rich table and soft bed	Q
To them who of man's seed are born	B
Whom woman's milk have fed	Q
Thou wast not made for lucre	E
For pleasure nor for rest	E2
Thou that art sprung from the War god's loins	I
And hast tugged at the she wolf's breast	E2
	-
XV	I
'From sunrise unto sunset	F2
All earth shall hear thy fame	G2
A glorious city thou shalt build	H2
And name it by thy name	G2
And there unquenched through ages	I
Like Vesta's sacred fire	E
Shall live the spirit of thy nurse	I
The spirit of thy sire	E
	-
XVI	I
'The ox toils through the furrow	E
Obedient to the goad	I2
The patient ass up flinty paths	I
Plods with his weary load	I2
With whine and bound the spaniel	N
His master's whistle hears	I
And the sheep yields her patiently	I
To the loud clashing shears	I
	-
XVII	I
'But thy nurse will hear no master	E
Thy nurse will bear no load	I2
And woe to them that shear her	E
And woe to them that goad	I2
When all the pack loud baying	C
Her bloody lair surrounds	I
She dies in silence biting hard	J2
Amidst the dying hounds	I
	-
XVIII	I
Pomona loves the orchard	Z
And Liber loves the vine	B
And Pales loves the straw built shed	Q
Warm with the breath of kine	B
And Venus loves the whispers	I
Of plighted youth and maid	K2
In April's ivory moonlight	L2
Beneath the chestnut shade	K2
	-
XIX	I
'But thy father loves the clashing	C
Of broadsword and of shield	M2
He loves to drink the steam that reeks	I
From the fresh battlefield	M2
He smiles a smile more dreadful	N
Than his own dreadful frown	B
When he sees the thick black cloud of smoke	C
Go up from the conquered town	B
	-
XX	I
'And such as is the War god	N2
The author of thy line	B
And such as she who suckled thee	I
Even such be thou and thine	B
Leave to the soft Campanian	B
His baths and his perfumes	I
Leave to the sordid race of Tyre	E
Their dyeing vats and looms	I
Leave to the sons of Carthage	O2
The rudder and the oar	E
Leave to the Greek his marble Nymphs	I
And scrolls of wordy lore	E
	-
XXI	I
'Thine Roman is the pilum	G2
Roman the sword is thine	B
The even trench the bristling mound	P2
The legion's ordered line	B
And thine the wheels of triumph	I
Which with their laurelled train	B
Move slowly up the shouting streets	I
To Jove's eternal flame	G2
	-
XXII	I
Beneath thy yoke the Volscian	B
Shall vail his lofty brow	E
Soft Capua's curled revellers	I
Before thy chairs shall bow	E
The Lucumoes of Arnus	I
Shall quake thy rods to see	I
And the proud Samnite's heart of steel	Q2
Shall yield to only thee	I
	-
XXIII	I
'The Gaul shall come against thee	I
From the land of snow and night	L2
Thou shalt give his fair haired armies	I
To the raven and the kite	L2
	-
XXIV	I
'The Greek shall come against thee	I
The conqueror of the East	J
Beside him stalks to battle	N
The huge earth shaking beast	J
The beast on whom the castle	N
With all its guards doth stand	R2
The beast who hath between his eyes	I
The serpent for a hand	R2
First march the bold Epirotes	I
Wedged close with shield and spear	E
And the ranks of false Tarentum	G2
Are glittering in the rear	E
	-
XXV	I
The ranks of false Tarentum	G2
Like hunted sheep shall fly	I
In vain the bold Epirotes	I
Shall round their standards die	I
And Apennine's gray vultures	I
Shall have a noble feast	J
On the fat and the eyes	I
Of the the huge earth shaking beast	J
	-
XXVI	I
'Hurrah for the good weapons	I
That keep the War god's land	R2
Hurrah for Rome's stout pilum	G2
In a stout Roman hand	R2
Hurrah for Rome's short broadsword	R
That through the thick array	E
Of levelled spears and serried shields	I
Hews deep its gory way	E
	-
XXVII	I
'Hurrah for the great triumph	I
That stretches many a mile	S2
Hurrah for the wan captives	I
That pass in endless file	S2
Ho bold Epirotes whither	E
Hath the Red King taken flight	L2
Ho dogs of false Tarentum	G2
Is not the gown washed white	L2
	-
XXVIII	I
'Hurrah for the great triumph	I
That stretches many a mile	S2
Hurrah for the rich dye of Tyre	E
And the fine web of Nile	S2
The helmets gay with plumage	O2
Torn from the pheasant's wings	I
The belts set thick with starry gem	G2
That shone on Indian kings	I
The urns of massy silver	E
The goblets rough with gold	T2
The many colored tablets bright	L2
With loves and wars of old	T2
The stone that breathes and struggles	I
The brass that seems to speak	C
Such cunning they who dwell on high	I
Have given unto the Greek	C
	-
XXIX	I
'Hurrah for Manius Curius	I
The bravest son of Rome	G2
Thrice in utmost need sent forth	U2
Thrice	I