Ode To Rae Wilson, Esq. To The Editor Of The Athenëum Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABCDEF GH IJKLMNOPQBRSTUI V WXWY ZA2 B2IIB2C2C2D2E2D2D2E2 F2F2G2H2G2H2I2I2I2I2 J2I2J2 K2K2QL2L2QM2M2C2C2N2 K2N2K2 I2O2I2O2P2M2M2P2I2Q2 I2I2Q2UR2UR2 N2S2N2S2ZS2S2ZS2 QQS2S2S2S2S2 S2I2S2I2 T2T2I2I2O2I2O2 I2S2S2I2 S2S2US2S2NS2IIS2 E2S2E2S2I2I2N2UUN2 I2E2I2E2U2AU2A N2N2O2EYO2 V2N2V2N2N2I2I2N2N2S2 N2S2 I2O2I2O2N2N2W2I2I2W2 X2N2Y2N2 N2YN2EN2NNN2 Z2N2N2Z2N2A3N2N2A3A3 AAUN2UN2 I2N2I2N2N2E2N2E2 UE2UE2B3B3N2C3C3N2 N2N2I2I2I2I2N2I2N2I2 I2N2N2I2N2N2I2D3D3I2 I2 UE3UE3F3I2I2I2I2I2 N2O2O2N2 I2E2I2E2N2E2N2E2I2C3 C3I2UUN2D3D3N2D3 A3I2I2A3I2N2I2N2N2N2 N2N2 A3A3I2N2I2N2A3O2O2A3 N2N2N2N2N2E2N2E2UI2U I2 G3UG3UI2UI2UUI2A3I2A 3 N2I2I2N2I2N2N2I2H3W2 H3W2W2E3N2E3E3N2 N2A3N2A3I2I2O2N2O2N2 I2I2 I2I2N2C3C3N2UUN2N2E3 E3U N2N2N2E3E3N2N2E3E3D3 E3N2D3N2 N2N2E3N2E3N2 I2UI2U D3UD3D3U N2N2N2N2 N2D3D3N2N2 A3E3A3E3E3A3N2N2D3D3 I2I2I2I2E3C3E3C3 N2I2I2N2N2I2N2 E3I2I2E3E3D3D3UD3U N2I2N2I2E3N2N2E3UUUU N2A3A3N2 N2N2E3N2N2E3N2D3D3N2 N2N2I2I2N2 I2I2I2I2I2N2N2N2N2UQ QU I2I2E3G3G3E3A3E3A3 N2N2N2N2 N2UUN2N2 D3N2D3N2UUUUU N2N2E3N2N2E3I2I2D3I2 D3D3I2 UUN2N2N2N2

MY DEAR SIR The following Ode was written anticipating the tone ofA
some strictures on my writings by the gentleman to whom it isB
addressed I have not seen his book but I know by hearsay that someC
of my verses are characterized as profaneness and ribaldry citingD
in proof the description of a certain sow from whose jaw a cabbageE
sproutF
-
Protruded as the dove so staunchG
For peace supports an olive branchH
-
If the printed works of my Censor had not prepared me for anyI
misapplication of types I should have been surprised by thisJ
misapprehension of one of the commonest emblems In some cases theK
dove unquestionably stands for the Divine Spirit but the same birdL
is also a lay representative of the peace of this world and as suchM
has figured time out of mind in allegorical pictures The sense inN
which it was used by me is plain from the context at least itO
would be plain to any one but a fisher for faults predisposed toP
carp at some things to dab at others and to flounder in all But IQ
am possibly in error It is the female swine perhaps that isB
profaned in the eyes of the Oriental tourist Men find strange waysR
of marking their intolerance and the spirit is certainly strongS
enough in Mr W 's works to set up a creature as sacred in sheerT
opposition to the Mussulman with whom she is a beast of abominationU
It would only be going the whole sow I am dear Sir yours very trulyI
-
THOS HOODV
-
-
-
Close close your eyes with holy dreadW
And weave a circle round him thriceX
For he on honey dew hath fedW
And drunk the milk of Paradise COLERIDGEY
-
It's very hard them kind of menZ
Won't let a body be Old BalladA2
-
-
A wanderer Wilson from my native landB2
Remote O Rae from godliness and theeI
Where rolls between us the eternal seaI
Besides some furlongs of a foreign sandB2
Beyond the broadest Scotch of London WallC2
Beyond the loudest Saint that has a callC2
Across the wavy waste between us stretch'dD2
A friendly missive warns me of a strictureE2
Wherein my likeness you have darkly etch'dD2
And though I have not seen the shadow sketch'dD2
Thus I remark prophetic on the pictureE2
-
I guess the features in a line to paintF2
Their moral ugliness I'm not a saintF2
Not one of those self constituted saintsG2
Quacks not physicians in the cure of soulsH2
Censors who sniff out mortal taintsG2
And call the devil over his own coalsH2
Those pseudo Privy Councillors of GodI2
Who write down judgments with a pen hard nibb'dI2
Ushers of Beelzebub's Black RodI2
Commending sinners not to ice thick ribb'dI2
But endless flames to scorch them up like flaxJ2
Yet sure of heav'n themselves as if they'd cribb'dI2
Th' impression of St Peter's keys in waxJ2
-
Of such a character no single traceK2
Exists I know in my fictitious faceK2
There wants a certain cast about the eyeQ
A certain lifting of the nose's tipL2
A certain curling of the nether lipL2
In scorn of all that is beneath the skyQ
In brief it is an aspect deleteriousM2
A face decidedly not seriousM2
A face profane that would not do at allC2
To make a face at Exeter HallC2
That Hall where bigots rant and cant and prayN2
And laud each other face to faceK2
Till ev'ry farthing candle rayN2
Conceives itself a great gas light of graceK2
-
Well be the graceless lineaments confestI2
I do enjoy this bounteous beauteous earthO2
And dote upon a jestI2
Within the limits of becoming mirthO2
No solemn sanctimonious face I pullP2
Nor think I'm pious when I'm only biliousM2
Nor study in my sanctum superciliousM2
To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a BullP2
I pray for grace repent each sinful actI2
Peruse but underneath the rose my BibleQ2
And love my neighbor far too well in factI2
To call and twit him with a godly tractI2
That's turn'd by application to a libelQ2
My heart ferments not with the bigot's leavenU
All creeds I view with toleration thoroughR2
And have a horror of regarding heavenU
As anybody's rotten boroughR2
-
What else no part I take in party frayN2
With troops from Billingsgate's slang whanging tartarsS2
I fear no Pope and let great Ernest playN2
At Fox and Goose with Foxs' MartyrsS2
I own I laugh at over righteous menZ
I own I shake my sides at rantersS2
And treat sham Abr'am saints with wicked bantersS2
I even own that there are times but thenZ
It's when I've got my wine I say d cantersS2
-
I've no ambition to enact the spyQ
On fellow souls a Spiritual PryQ
'Tis said that people ought to guard their nosesS2
Who thrust them into matters none of theirsS2
And tho' no delicacy discomposesS2
Your Saint yet I consider faith and pray'rsS2
Amongst the privatest of men's affairsS2
-
I do not hash the Gospel in my booksS2
And thus upon the public mind intrude itI2
As if I thought like Otaheitan cooksS2
No food was fit to eat till I had chewed itI2
-
On Bible stilts I don't affect to stalkT2
Nor lard with Scripture my familiar talkT2
For man may pious texts repeatI2
And yet religion have no inward seatI2
'Tis not so plain as the old Hill of HowthO2
A man has got his belly full of meatI2
Because he talks with victuals in his mouthO2
-
Mere verbiage it is not worth a carrotI2
Why Socrates or Plato where's the oddsS2
Once taught a jay to supplicate the GodsS2
And made a Polly theist of a ParrotI2
-
A mere professor spite of all his cant isS2
Not a whit better than a MantisS2
An insect of what clime I can't determineU
That lifts its paws most parson like and thenceS2
By simple savages thro' sheer pretenceS2
Is reckon'd quite a saint amongst the verminN
But where's the reverence or where the nousS2
To ride on one's religion thro' the lobbyI
Whether a stalking horse or hobbyI
To show its pious paces to the houseS2
-
I honestly confess that I would hinderE2
The Scottish member's legislative rigsS2
That spiritual PinderE2
Who looks on erring souls as straying pigsS2
That must be lash'd by law wherever foundI2
And driv'n to church as to the parish poundI2
I do confess without reserve or wheedleN2
I view that grovelling idea as oneU
Worthy some parish clerk's ambitious sonU
A charity boy who longs to be a beadleN2
-
On such a vital topic sure 'tis oddI2
How much a man can differ from his neighborE2
One wishes worship freely giv'n to GodI2
Another wants to make it statute laborE2
The broad distinction in a line to drawU2
As means to lead us to the skies aboveA
You say Sir Andrew and his love of lawU2
And I the Saviour with his law of loveA
-
Spontaneously to God should tend the soulN2
Like the magnetic needle to the PoleN2
But what were that intrinsic virtue worthO2
Suppose some fellow with more zeal than knowledgeE
Fresh from St Andrew's CollegeY
Should nail the conscious needle to the northO2
-
I do confess that I abhor and shrinkV2
From schemes with a religious willy nillyN2
That frown upon St Giles's sins but blinkV2
The peccadilloes of all PiccadillyN2
My soul revolts at such a bare hypocrisyN2
And will not dare not fancy in accordI2
The Lord of Hosts with an Exclusive LordI2
Of this world's aristocracyN2
It will not own a notion so unholyN2
As thinking that the rich by easy tripsS2
May go to heav'n whereas the poor and lowlyN2
Must work their passage as they do in shipsS2
-
One place there is beneath the burial sodI2
Where all mankind are equalized by deathO2
Another place there is the Fane of GodI2
Where all are equal who draw living breathO2
Juggle who will elsewhere with his own soulN2
Playing the Judas with a temporal doleN2
He who can come beneath that awful copeW2
In the dread presence of a Maker justI2
Who metes to ev'ry pinch of human dustI2
One even measure of immortal hopeW2
He who can stand within that holy doorX2
With soul unbow'd by that pure spirit levelN2
And frame unequal laws for rich and poorY2
Might sit for Hell and represent the DevilN2
-
Such are the solemn sentiments O RaeN2
In your last Journey Work perchance you ravageY
Seeming but in more courtly terms to sayN2
I'm but a heedless creedless godless savageE
A very Guy deserving fire and faggotsN2
A Scoffer always on the grinN
And sadly given to the mortal sinN
Of liking Maw worms less than merry maggotsN2
-
The humble records of my life to searchZ2
I have not herded with mere pagan beastsN2
But sometimes I have sat at good men's feastsN2
And I have been where bells have knoll'd to churchZ2
Dear bells how sweet the sounds of village bellsN2
When on the undulating air they swimA3
Now loud as welcomes faint now as farewellsN2
And trembling all about the breezy dellsN2
As flutter'd by the wings of CherubimA3
Meanwhile the bees are chanting a low hymnA3
And lost to sight th' ecstatic lark aboveA
Sings like a soul beatified of loveA
With now and then the coo of the wild pigeonU
O Pagans Heathens Infidels and DoubtersN2
If such sweet sounds can't woo you to religionU
Will the harsh voices of church cads and toutersN2
-
A man may cry Church Church at ev'ry wordI2
With no more piety than other peopleN2
A daw's not reckon'd a religious birdI2
Because it keeps a cawing from a steepleN2
The Temple is a good a holy placeN2
But quacking only gives it an ill savorE2
While saintly mountebanks the porch disgraceN2
And bring religion's self into disfavorE2
-
Behold yon servitor of God and MammonU
Who binding up his Bible with his LedgerE2
Blends Gospel texts with trading gammonU
A black leg saint a spiritual hedgerE2
Who backs his rigid Sabbath so to speakB3
Against the wicked remnant of the weekB3
A saving bet against his sinful biasN2
Rogue that I am he whispers to himselfC3
I lie I cheat do anything for pelfC3
But who on earth can say I am not piousN2
-
In proof how over righteousness re actsN2
Accept an anecdote well based on factsN2
One Sunday morning at the day don't fretI2
In riding with a friend to Ponder's EndI2
Outside the stage we happened to commendI2
A certain mansion that we saw To LetI2
Ay cried our coachman with our talk to grappleN2
You're right no house along the road comes nigh itI2
'Twas built by the same man as built yon chapelN2
And master wanted once to buy itI2
But t'other driv the bargain much too hardI2
He ax'd sure ly a sum purdigiousN2
But being so particular religiousN2
Why that you see put master on his guardI2
Church is a little heav'n belowN2
I have been there and still would goN2
Yet I am none of those who think it oddI2
A man can pray unbidden from the cassockD3
And passing by the customary hassockD3
Kneel down remote upon the simple sodI2
And sue in form pauperis to GodI2
-
As for the rest intolerant to noneU
Whatever shape the pious rite may bearE3
Ev'n the poor Pagan's homage to the SunU
I would not harshly scorn lest even thereE3
I spurn'd some elements of Christian pray'rF3
An aim tho' erring at a world ayontI2
Acknowledgment of good of man's futilityI2
A sense of need and weakness and indeedI2
That very thing so many Christians wantI2
HumilityI2
-
Such unto Papists Jews or turban'd TurksN2
Such is my spirit I don't mean my wraithO2
Such may it please you is my humble faithO2
I know full well you do not like my worksN2
-
I have not sought 'tis true the Holy LandI2
As full of texts as Cuddie Headrigg's motherE2
The Bible in one handI2
And my own commonplace book in the otherE2
But you have been to Palestine alasN2
Some minds improve by travel others ratherE2
Resemble copper wire or brassN2
Which gets the narrower by going fartherE2
Worthless are all such Pilgrimages veryI2
If Palmers at the Holy Tomb contriveC3
The human heats and rancor to reviveC3
That at the Sepulchre they ought to buryI2
A sorry sight it is to rest the eye onU
To see a Christian creature graze at SionU
Then homeward of the saintly pasture fullN2
Rush bellowing and breathing fire and smokeD3
At crippled Papistry to butt and pokeD3
Exactly as a skittish Scottish bullN2
Hunts an old woman in a scarlet cloakD3
-
Why leave a serious moral pious homeA3
Scotland renown'd for sanctity of oldI2
Far distant Catholics to rate and scoldI2
For doing as the Romans do at RomeA3
With such a bristling spirit wherefore quitI2
The Land of Cakes for any land of wafersN2
About the graceless images to flitI2
And buzz and chafe importunate as chafersN2
Longing to carve the carvers to Scotch collopsN2
People who hold such absolute opinionsN2
Should stay at home in Protestant dominionsN2
Not travel like male Mrs TrollopesN2
-
Gifted with noble tendency to climbA3
Yet weak at the same timeA3
Faith is a kind of parasitic plantI2
That grasps the nearest stem with tendril ringsN2
And as the climate and the soil may grantI2
So is the sort of tree to which it clingsN2
Consider then before like HurlothrumboA3
You aim your club at any creed on earthO2
That by the simple accident of birthO2
You might have been High Priest to Mumbo JumboA3
-
For me thro' heathen ignorance perchanceN2
Not having knelt in Palestine I feelN2
None of that griffinish excess of zealN2
Some travellers would blaze with here in FranceN2
Dolls I can see in virgin like arrayN2
Nor for a scuffle with the idols hankerE2
Like crazy Quixote at the puppet's playN2
If their offence be rank should mine be rancorE2
Mild light and by degrees should be the planU
To cure the dark and erring mindI2
But who would rush at a benighted manU
And give him two black eyes for being blindI2
-
Suppose the tender but luxuriant hopG3
Around a canker'd stem should twineU
What Kentish boor would tear away the propG3
So roughly as to wound nay kill the bineU
The images 'tis true are strangely dress'dI2
With gauds and toys extremely out of seasonU
The carving nothing of the very bestI2
The whole repugnant to the eye of reasonU
Shocking to Taste and to Fine Arts a treasonU
Yet ne'er o'erlook in bigotry of sectI2
One truly Catholic one common formA3
At which uncheck'dI2
All Christian hearts may kindle or keep warmA3
-
Say was it to my spirit's gain or lossN2
One bright and balmy morning as I wentI2
From Liege's lovely environs to GhentI2
If hard by the wayside I found a crossN2
That made me breathe a pray'r upon the spotI2
While Nature of herself as if to traceN2
The emblem's use had trail'd around its baseN2
The blue significant Forget me notI2
Methought the claims of Charity to urgeH3
More forcibly along with Faith and HopeW2
The pious choice had pitched upon the vergeH3
Of a delicious slopeW2
Giving the eye much variegated scopeW2
Look round it whisper'd on that prospect rareE3
Those vales so verdant and those hills so blueN2
Enjoy the sunny world so fresh and fairE3
But how the simple legend pierced me thro'E3
PRIEZ POUR LES MALHEUREUXN2
-
With sweet kind natures as in honey'd cellsN2
Religion lives and feels herself at homeA3
But only on a formal visit dwellsN2
Where wasps instead of bees have formed the combA3
Shun pride O Rae whatever sort besideI2
You take in lieu shun spiritual prideI2
A pride there is of rank a pride of birthO2
A pride of learning and a pride of purseN2
A London pride in short there be on earthO2
A host of prides some better and some worseN2
But of all prides since Lucifer's attaintI2
The proudest swells a self elected SaintI2
-
To picture that cold pride so harsh and hardI2
Fancy a peacock in a poultry yardI2
Behold him in conceited circles sailN2
Strutting and dancing and now planted stiffC3
In all his pomp of pageantry as ifC3
He felt the eyes of Europe on his tailN2
As for the humble breed retain'd by manU
He scorns the whole domestic clanU
He bows he bridlesN2
He wheels he sidlesN2
At last with stately dodgings in a cornerE3
He pens a simple russet hen to scorn herE3
Full in the blaze of his resplendent fanU
-
Look here he cries to give him wordsN2
Thou feather'd clay thou scum of birdsN2
Flirting the rustling plumage in her eyesN2
Look here thou vile predestined sinnerE3
Doom'd to be roasted for a dinnerE3
Behold those lovely variegated dyesN2
These are the rainbow colors of the skiesN2
That Heav'n has shed upon me con amoreE3
A Bird of Paradise a pretty storyE3
I am that Saintly Fowl thou paltry chickD3
Look at my crown of gloryE3
Thou dingy dirty drabbled draggled jillN2
And off goes Partlet wriggling from a kickD3
With bleeding scalp laid open by his billN2
-
That little simile exactly paintsN2
How sinners are despised by saintsN2
By saints the Hypocrites that ope heav'n's doorE3
Obsequious to the sinful man of richesN2
But put the wicked naked barelegg'd poorE3
In parish stocks instead of breechesN2
-
The Saints the Bigots that in public spoutI2
Spread phosphorus of zeal on scraps of fustianU
And go like walking Lucifers aboutI2
Mere living bundles of combustionU
-
The Saints the aping Fanatics that talkD3
All cant and rant and rhapsodies high flownU
That bid you baulkD3
A Sunday walkD3
And shun God's work as you should shun your ownU
-
The Saints the Formalists the extra piousN2
Who think the mortal husk can save the soulN2
By trundling with a mere mechanic biasN2
To church just like a lignum vit bowlN2
-
The Saints the Pharisees whose beadle standsN2
Beside a stern coercive kirkD3
A piece of human mason workD3
Calling all sermons contrabandsN2
In that great Temple that's not made with handsN2
-
Thrice blessed rather is the man with whomA3
The gracious prodigality of natureE3
The balm the bliss the beauty and the bloomA3
The bounteous providence in ev'ry featureE3
Recall the good Creator to his creatureE3
Making all earth a fane all heav'n its domeA3
To his tuned spirit the wild heather bellsN2
Ring Sabbath knellsN2
The jubilate of the soaring larkD3
Is chant of clerkD3
For choir the thrush and the gregarious linnetI2
The sod's a cushion for his pious wantI2
And consecrated by the heav'n within itI2
The sky blue pool a fontI2
Each cloud capped mountain is a holy altarE3
An organ breathes in every groveC3
And the full heart's a PsalterE3
Rich in deep hymns of gratitude and loveC3
-
Sufficiently by stern necessitariansN2
Poor Nature with her face begrimed by dustI2
Is stoked coked smoked and almost choked but mustI2
Religion have its own UtilitariansN2
Labell'd with evangelical phylacteriesN2
To make the road to heav'n a railway trustI2
And churches that's the naked fact mere factoriesN2
-
Oh simply open wide the Temple doorE3
And let the solemn swelling organ greetI2
With Voluntaries meetI2
The willing advent of the rich and poorE3
And while to God the loud Hosannas soarE3
With rich vibrations from the vocal throngD3
From quiet shades that to the woods belongD3
And brooks with music of their ownU
Voices may come to swell the choral songD3
With notes of praise they learned in musings loneU
-
How strange it is while on all vital questionsN2
That occupy the House and public mindI2
We always meet with some humane suggestionsN2
Of gentle measures of a healing kindI2
Instead of harsh severity and vigorE3
The Saint alone his preference retainsN2
For bills of penalties and painsN2
And marks his narrow code with legal rigorE3
Why shun as worthless of affiliationU
What men of all political persuasionU
Extol and even use upon occasionU
That Christian principle ConciliationU
But possibly the men who make such fussN2
With Sunday pippins and old Trots infirmA3
Attach some other meaning to the termA3
As thusN2
-
One market morning in my usual ramblesN2
Passing along Whitechapel's ancient shamblesN2
Where meat was hung in many a joint and quarterE3
I had to halt awhile like other folksN2
To let a killing butcher coaxN2
A score of lambs and fatted sheep to slaughterE3
A sturdy man he looke'd to fell an oxN2
Bull fronted ruddy with a formal streakD3
Of well greased hair down either cheekD3
As if he dee dash dee'd some other flocksN2
Beside those woolly headed stubborn blocksN2
That stood before him in vexatious huddleN2
Poor little lambs with bleating wethers group'dI2
While now and then a thirsty creature stoop'dI2
And meekly snuff'd but did not taste the puddleN2
-
Fierce bark'd the dog and many a blow was dealtI2
That loin and chump and scrag and saddle feltI2
Yet still that fatal step they all declined itI2
And shunn'd the tainted door as if they smeltI2
Onions mint sauce and lemon juice behind itI2
At last there came a pause of brutal forceN2
The cur was silent for his jaws were fullN2
Of tangled locks of tarry woolN2
The man had whoop'd and holloed till dead hoarseN2
The time was ripe for mild expostulationU
And thus it stammer'd from a stander byQ
Zounds my good fellow it quite makes me whyQ
It really my dear fellow do just try ConciliationU
-
Stringing his nerves like flintI2
The sturdy butcher seized upon the hintI2
At least he seized upon the foremost wetherE3
And hugg'd and lugg'd and tugg'd him neck and cropG3
Just nolens volens thro' the open shopG3
If tails come off he didn't care a featherE3
Then walking to the door and smiling grimA3
He rubb'd his forehead and his sleeve togetherE3
There I have conciliated himA3
-
Again good humoredly to end our quarrelN2
Good humor should prevailN2
I'll fit you with a taleN2
Whereto is tied a moralN2
-
Once on a time a certain English lassN2
Was seized with symptoms of such deep declineU
Cough hectic flushes ev'ry evil signU
That as their wont is at such desperate passN2
The Doctors gave her over to an assN2
-
Accordingly the grisly Shade to bilkD3
Each morn the patient quaff'd a frothy bowlN2
Of asinine new milkD3
Robbing a shaggy suckling of a foalN2
Which got proportionably spare and skinnyU
Meanwhile the neighbors cried Poor Mary AnnU
She can't get over it she never canU
When lo to prove each prophet was a ninnyU
The one that died was the poor wet nurse JennyU
-
To aggravate the caseN2
There were but two grown donkeys in the placeN2
And most unluckily for Eve's sick daughterE3
The other long ear'd creature was a maleN2
Who never in his life had given a pailN2
Of milk or even chalk and waterE3
No matter at the usual hour of eightI2
Down trots a donkey to the wicket gateI2
With Mister Simon Gubbins on his backD3
Your sarvant Miss a worry spring like dayI2
Bad time for hasses tho' good lack good lackD3
Jenny be dead Miss but I've brought ye JackD3
He doesn't give no milk but he can brayI2
-
So runs the storyU
And in vain self gloryU
Some Saints would sneer at Gubbins for his blindnessN2
But what the better are their pious sawsN2
To ailing souls than dry hee hawsN2
Without the milk of human kindnessN2

Thomas Hood



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