Ode To Rae Wilson Esq. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABBACCDEDDE FFGHGHIIIIJIJ KKLMMLNNCCOKOK IPIPQNNQIRIIRSTST OLUOUVUUVU LLUUUUU UIUILLIIPIP IUUI UUSUUW UBBU EUEUIIOSSO IEIEEXEX OOPYZA2P LOLOOIIOOUOU IPIPOOB2IIB2EOEO EA2EZEWWE C2E I ED2EED2D2XXSESE IOIOEEEE SESELLEE2E2 EEII| A WANDERER Wilson from my native land | A |
| Remote O Rae from godliness and thee | B |
| Where rolls between us the eternal sea | B |
| Besides some furlongs of a foreign sand | A |
| Beyond the broadest Scotch of London Wall | C |
| Beyond the loudest Saint that has a call | C |
| Across the wavy waste between us stretch'd | D |
| A friendly missive warns me of a stricture | E |
| Wherein my likeness you have darkly etch'd | D |
| And though I have not seen the shadow sketch'd | D |
| Thus I remark prophetic on the picture | E |
| - | |
| I guess the features in a line to paint | F |
| Their moral ugliness I'm not a saint | F |
| Not one of those self constituted saints | G |
| Quacks not physicians in the cure of souls | H |
| Censors who sniff out mortal taints | G |
| And call the devil over his own coals | H |
| Those pseudo Privy Councillors of God | I |
| Who write down judgments with a pen hard nibb'd | I |
| Ushers of Beelzebub's Black Rod | I |
| Commending sinners not to ice thick ribb'd | I |
| But endless flames to scorch them up like flax | J |
| Yet sure of heav'n themselves as if they'd cribb'd | I |
| Th' impression of St Peter's keys in wax | J |
| - | |
| Of such a character no single trace | K |
| Exists I know in my fictitious face | K |
| There wants a certain cast about the eye | L |
| A certain lifting of the nose's tip | M |
| A certain curling of the nether lip | M |
| In scorn of all that is beneath the sky | L |
| In brief it is an aspect deleterious | N |
| A face decidedly not serious | N |
| A face profane that would not do at all | C |
| To make a face at Exeter Hall | C |
| That Hall where bigots rant and cant and pray | O |
| And laud each other face to face | K |
| Till ev'ry farthing candle ray | O |
| Conceives itself a great gas light of grace | K |
| - | |
| Well be the graceless lineaments confest | I |
| I do enjoy this bounteous beauteous earth | P |
| And dote upon a jest | I |
| 'Within the limits of becoming mirth' | P |
| No solemn sanctimonious face I pull | Q |
| Nor think I'm pious when I'm only bilious | N |
| Nor study in my sanctum supercilious | N |
| To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull | Q |
| I pray for grace repent each sinful act | I |
| Peruse but underneath the rose my Bible | R |
| And love my neighbour far too well in fact | I |
| To call and twit him with a godly tract | I |
| That's turn'd by application to a libel | R |
| My heart ferments not with the bigot's leaven | S |
| All creeds I view with toleration thorough | T |
| And have a horror of regarding heaven | S |
| As anybody's rotten borough | T |
| - | |
| What else no part I take in party fray | O |
| With troops from Billingsgate's slang whanging | L |
| tartars | U |
| I fear no Pope and let great Ernest play | O |
| At Fox and Goose with Foxs' Martyrs | U |
| I own I laugh at over righteous men | V |
| I own I shake my sides at ranters | U |
| And treat sham Abr'am saints with wicked banters | U |
| I even own that there are times but then | V |
| It's when I've got my wine I say d canters | U |
| - | |
| I've no ambition to enact the spy | L |
| On fellow souls a Spiritual Pry | L |
| 'Tis said that people ought to guard their noses | U |
| Who thrust them into matters none of theirs | U |
| And tho' no delicacy discomposes | U |
| Your Saint yet I consider faith and pray'rs | U |
| Amongst the privatest of men's affairs | U |
| - | |
| I do not hash the Gospel in my books | U |
| And thus upon the public mind intrude it | I |
| As if I thought like Otaheitan cooks | U |
| No food was fit to eat till I had chewed it | I |
| On Bible stilts I don't affect to stalk | L |
| Nor lard with Scripture my familiar talk | L |
| For man may pious texts repeat | I |
| And yet religion have no inward seat | I |
| 'Tis not so plain as the old Hill of Howth | P |
| A man has got his belly full of meat | I |
| Because he talks with victuals in his mouth | P |
| - | |
| Mere verbiage it is not worth a carrot | I |
| Why Socrates or Plato where's the odds | U |
| Once taught a jay to supplicate the Gods | U |
| And made a Polly theist of a Parrot | I |
| - | |
| A mere professor spite of all his cant is | U |
| Not a whit better than a Mantis | U |
| An insect of what clime I can't determine | S |
| That lifts its paws most parson like and thence | U |
| By simple savages thro' sheer pretence | U |
| Is reckon'd quite a saint amongst the vermin | W |
| - | |
| But where's the reverence or where the nous | U |
| To ride on one's religion thro' the lobby | B |
| Whether a stalking horse or hobby | B |
| To show its pious paces to 'the house' | U |
| - | |
| I honestly confess that I would hinder | E |
| The Scottish member's legislative rigs | U |
| That spiritual Pinder | E |
| Who looks on erring souls as straying pigs | U |
| That must be lash'd by law wherever found | I |
| And driv'n to church as to the parish pound | I |
| I do confess without reserve or wheedle | O |
| I view that grovelling idea as one | S |
| Worthy some parish clerk's ambitious son | S |
| A charity boy who longs to be a beadle | O |
| - | |
| On such a vital topic sure 'tis odd | I |
| How much a man can differ from his neighbour | E |
| One wishes worship freely giv'n to God | I |
| Another wants to make it statute labour | E |
| The broad distinction in a line to draw | E |
| As means to lead us to the skies above | X |
| You say Sir Andrew and his love of law | E |
| And I the Saviour with his law of love | X |
| - | |
| Spontaneously to God should tend the soul | O |
| Like the magnetic needle to the Pole | O |
| But what were that intrinsic virtue worth | P |
| Suppose some fellow with more zeal than | Y |
| knowledge | Z |
| Fresh from St Andrew's College | A2 |
| Should nail the conscious needle to the north | P |
| - | |
| I do confess that I abhor and shrink | L |
| From schemes with a religious willy nilly | O |
| That frown upon St Giles's sins but blink | L |
| The peccadilloes of all Piccadilly | O |
| My soul revolts at such a bare hypocrisy | O |
| And will not dare not fancy in accord | I |
| The Lord of Hosts with an Exclusive Lord | I |
| Of this world's aristocracy | O |
| It will not own a notion so unholy | O |
| As thinking that the rich by easy trips | U |
| May go to heav'n whereas the poor and lowly | O |
| Must work their passage as they do in ships | U |
| - | |
| One place there is beneath the burial sod | I |
| Where all mankind are equalized by death | P |
| Another place there is the Fane of God | I |
| Where all are equal who draw living breath | P |
| Juggle who will elsewhere with his own soul | O |
| Playing the Judas with a temporal dole | O |
| He who can come beneath that awful cope | B2 |
| In the dread presence of a Maker just | I |
| Who metes to ev'ry pinch of human dust | I |
| One even measure of immortal hope | B2 |
| He who can stand within that holy door | E |
| With soul unbow'd by that pure spirit level | O |
| And frame unequal laws for rich and poor | E |
| Might sit for Hell and represent the Devil | O |
| - | |
| Such are the solemn sentiments O Rae | E |
| In your last Journey Work perchance you ravage | A2 |
| Seeming but in more courtly terms to say | E |
| I'm but a heedless creedless godless savage | Z |
| A very Guy deserving fire and faggots | E |
| A Scoffer always on the grin | W |
| And sadly given to the mortal sin | W |
| Of liking Maw worms less than merry maggots | E |
| - | |
| The humble records of my life to search | C2 |
| I have not herded with mere pagan beasts | E |
| But sometimes I have 'sat at good men's feasts ' | - |
| And I have been 'where bells have knoll'd to | I |
| church ' | - |
| Dear bells how sweet the sounds of village bells | E |
| When on the undulating air they swim | D2 |
| Now loud as welcomes faint now as farewells | E |
| And trembling all about the breezy dells | E |
| As flutter'd by the wings of Cherubim | D2 |
| Meanwhile the bees are chanting a low hymn | D2 |
| And lost to sight th' ecstatic lark above | X |
| Sings like a soul beatified of love | X |
| With now and then the coo of the wild pigeon | S |
| O Pagans Heathens Infidels and Doubters | E |
| If such sweet sounds can't woo you to religion | S |
| Will the harsh voices of church cads and touters | E |
| - | |
| A man may cry 'Church Church ' at ev'ry word | I |
| With no more piety than other people | O |
| A daw's not reckon'd a religious bird | I |
| Because it keeps a cawing from a steeple | O |
| The Temple is a good a holy place | E |
| But quacking only gives it an ill savour | E |
| While saintly mountebanks the porch disgrace | E |
| And bring religion's self into disfavour | E |
| - | |
| Behold yon servitor of God and Mammon | S |
| Who binding up his Bible with his Ledger | E |
| Blends Gospel texts with trading gammon | S |
| A black leg saint a spiritual hedger | E |
| Who backs his rigid Sabbath so to speak | L |
| Against the wicked remnant of the week | L |
| A saving bet against his sinful bias | E |
| 'Rogue that I am ' he whispers to himself | E2 |
| 'I lie I cheat do anything for pelf | E2 |
| But who on earth can say I am not pious ' | - |
| - | |
| In proof how over righteousness re acts | E |
| Accept an anecdote well based on facts | E |
| One Sunday morning at the day don't fret | I |
| In riding with a friend to | I |
Thomas Hood
(1)
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About Ode To Rae Wilson Esq.
Ode To Rae Wilson Esq. is a poem by Thomas Hood. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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