On Reading The Poem Of "paris." By The Rev George Croly, A.m Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABCBDEDFGGHIEBE EEJJKKEELLMMNNOOFF PPQQRRSS| By the trim taper and the blazing hearth | A |
| While loud without the blast of winter sung | B |
| Now thrill'd with awe and now relax'd with mirth | C |
| Paris I've roam'd thy varied haunts among | B |
| Loitering where Fashion's insect myriads spread | D |
| Their painted wings and sport their little day | E |
| Anon by beckoning recollection led | D |
| To the dark shadow of the stern ABBAYE | F |
| Pale Fancy heard the petrifying shriek | G |
| Of midnight Murder from its turrets bleak | G |
| And to her horrent eye came passing on | H |
| Phantoms of those dark times elapsed and gone | I |
| When Rapine yell'd o'er his defenceless prey | E |
| As unchain'd Anarchy her tocsin rung | B |
| And France in dust and blood thy throne and altars lay | E |
| - | |
| Oh thou thus skill'd with absolute controul | E |
| Where'er thou wilt to lead th' admiring soul | E |
| Gifted alike with Fancy's train to sport | J |
| And tread light measures in her elfin court | J |
| Or pierce the height where Grandeur sits alone | K |
| Girt by the tempest on his mountain throne | K |
| Whate'er the theme which wakes thy vocal shell | E |
| Well pleased I follow where its concords swell | E |
| In regal halls where pleasure wings the night | L |
| With pomp and music revelry and light | L |
| Or where unwept by Love's deploring eyes | M |
| In the lone Morgue the self doom'd victim lies | M |
| Then midst the twilight of yon Chapel dim | N |
| To mark Religion's reverend Martyr him | N |
| Who kneels entranced in agony of prayer | O |
| His fellow victims torpid with despair | O |
| Thrill'd by his piercing tones his beaming eye | F |
| Glows as he glows nor longer dread to die | F |
| - | |
| Now borne to Belgium's plain on bolder wings | P |
| Where England's warriors fix'd the fate of Kings | P |
| At once the Patriot and the Poet glows | Q |
| And full the mingling inspiration flows | Q |
| Resume the lyre not thine in myrtle bowers | R |
| To trifle light with Life's uncounted hours | R |
| To crown thy toils propitious Fame from far | S |
| Entwines her noblest wreath illumes her loftiest star | S |
Thomas Gent
(1)
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