Ode To Richard Martin, Esq.,[1] M.p. For Galway Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AA BCAADAAD EEFFGGGGGHHGHHG FAFFAIJJIKGGLG M NOOOOGGAAGGAGGA M GGG ADADADDA GPGQPOQQOQFMFMF

Martin in this has proved himself a very good manA
BoxianaA
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I-
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How many sing of warsB
Of Greek and Trojan jarsC
The butcheries of menA
The Muse hath a Perpetual Ruby PenA
Dabbling with heroes and the blood they spillD
But no one sings the manA
That like a pelicanA
Nourishes Pity with his tender BillD
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II-
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Thou Wilberforce of hacksE
Of whites as well as blacksE
Pyebald and dapple grayF
Chestnut and bayF
No poet's eulogy thy name adornsG
But oxen from the fensG
Sheep in their pensG
Praise thee and red cows with their winding hornsG
Thou art sung on brutal pipesG
Drovers may curse theeH
Knackers asperse theeH
And sly M P 's bestow their cruel wipesG
But the old horse neighs theeH
And zebras praise theeH
Asses I mean that have as many stripesG
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III-
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Hast thou not taught the Drover to forbearF
In Smithfield's muddy murderous vile environA
Staying his lifted bludgeon in the airF
Bullocks don't wearF
Oxide of ironA
The cruel Jarvy thou hast summon'd oftI
Enforcing mercy on the coarse YahooJ
That thought his horse the courser of the twoJ
Whilst Swift smiled down aloftI
O worthy pair for this when ye inhabitK
Bodies of birds if so the spirit shiftsG
From flesh to feather when the clown upliftsG
His hands against the sparrow's nest to grab itL
He shall not harm the MARTINS and the SwiftsG
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IVM
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Ah when Dean Swift was quick how he enhanc'dN
The horse and humbled biped man like PlatoO
But now he's dead the charger is mischanc'dO
Gone backward in the world and not advanc'dO
Remember CatoO
Swift was the horse's champion not the King'sG
Whom Southey singsG
Mounted on Pegasus would he were thrownA
He'll wear that ancient hackney to the boneA
Like a mere clothes horse airing royal thingsG
Ah well a day the ancients did not useG
Their steeds so cruelly let it debar menA
From wanton rowelling and whip's abuseG
Look at the ancients' MuseG
Look at their CarmenA
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VM
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O Martin I how thine eyesG
That one would think had put aside its lashesG
That can't bear gashesG
Thro' any horse's side must ache to spy-
That horrid window fronting Fetter laneA
For there's a nag the crows have pick'd for victualD
Or some man painted in a bloody veinA
Gods is there no Horse spitalD
That such raw shows must sicken the humaneA
Sure Mr WhittleD
Loves thee but littleD
To let that poor horse linger in his paneA
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VI-
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O build a Brookes's Theatre for horsesG
O wipe away the national reproachP
And find a decent Vulture for their corsesG
And in thy funeral trackQ
Four sorry steeds shall follow in each coachP
Steeds that confess the luxury of woO
True mourning steeds in no extempore blackQ
And many a wretched hackQ
Shall sorrow for thee sore with kick and blowO
And bloody gash it is the Indian knackQ
Save that the savage is his own tormentorF
Banting shall weep too in his sable scarfM
The biped woe the quadruped shall enterF
And Man and Horse go half and halfM
As if their griefs met in a common CentaurF

Thomas Hood



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