The Key (a Moorish Romance) Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABC DE FGHGIJKJ LMIMFNON PQRQSTUT VQWQOFXF EYEYYZA2Z A2IYIA2B2YB2 A2FEFC2YA2Y D2KA2OE2EFE F2A2YA2G2MEM YFH2FA2A2H2A2 I2J2I2J2EYA2Y YA2FA2K2A2FA2 FL2M2L2N2O2FF EA2EA2P2FA2F J2YYYFA2A2A2 YJ2Q2J2YFKF J2R2S2R2T2H2A2H2 YU2FU2VYY FV2YV2YKJ2O

'On the east coast towards Tunis the Moors still preserve the key of their ancestors' houses in Spain to which country they still express the hopes of one day returning and again planting the crescent on the ancient walls of the Alhambra 'A
Scott'sB
Travels in Morocco and AlgiersC
-
'Is Spain cloven in such a manner as to want closing '-
Sancho Panza inD
Don QuixoteE
-
The Moor leans on his cushionF
With the pipe between his lipsG
And still at frequent intervalsH
The sweet sherb t he sipsG
But spite of lulling vaporI
And the sober cooling cupJ
The spirit of the swarthy MoorK
Is fiercely kindling upJ
-
One hand is on his pistolL
On its ornamented stockM
While his finger feels the triggerI
And is busy with the lockM
The other seeks his ataghanF
And clasps its jewell'd hiltN
Oh much of gore in days of yoreO
That crooked blade has spiltN
-
His brows are knit his eyes of jetP
In vivid blackness rollQ
And gleam with fatal flashesR
Like the fire damp of the coalQ
His jaws are set and through his teethS
He draws a savage breathT
As if about to raise the shoutU
Of Victory or DeathT
-
For why the last Zebeck that cameV
And moor'd within the MoleQ
Such tidings unto Tunis broughtW
As stir his very soulQ
The cruel jar of civil warO
The sad and stormy reignF
That blackens like a thunder cloudX
The sunny land of SpainF
-
No strife of glorious ChivalryE
For honor's gain or lossY
Nor yet that ancient rivalryE
The Crescent with the CrossY
No charge of gallant PaladinsY
On Moslems stern and stanchZ
But Christians shedding Christian bloodA2
Beneath the olive's branchZ
-
A war of horrid parricideA2
And brother killing brotherI
Yea like to 'dogs and sons of dogs'Y
That worry one anotherI
But let them bite and tear and fightA2
The more the Kaffers slayB2
The sooner Hagar's swarming sonsY
Shall make the land a preyB2
-
The sooner shall the Moor beholdA2
Th' Alhambra's pile againF
And those who pined in BarbaryE
Shall shout for joy in SpainF
The sooner shall the Crescent waveC2
On dear Granada's wallsY
And proud Mohammed Ali sitA2
Within his fathers hallsY
-
'Alla il alla ' tiger likeD2
Up springs the swarthy MoorK
And with a wide and hasty strideA2
Steps o'er the marble floorO
Across the hall till from the wallE2
Where such quaint patterns beE
With eager hand he snatches downF
And old and massive KeyE
-
A massive Key of curious shapeF2
And dark with dirt and rustA2
And well three weary centuriesY
The metal might encrustA2
For since the King Boabdil fellG2
Before the native stockM
That ancient Key so quaint to seeE
Hath never been in lockM
-
Brought over by the SaracensY
Who fled accross the mainF
A token of the secret hopeH2
Of going back againF
From race to race from hand to handA2
From house to house it pass'dA2
O will it ever ever opeH2
The Palace gate at lastA2
-
Three hundred years and fifty twoI2
On post and wall it hungJ2
Three hundred years and fifty twoI2
A dream to old and youngJ2
But now a brighter destinyE
The Prophet's will accordsY
The time is come to scour the rustA2
And lubricate the wardsY
-
For should the Moor with sword and lanceY
At Algesiras landA2
Where is the bold Bernardo nowF
Their progress to withstandA2
To Burgos should the Moslem comeK2
Where is the noble CidA2
Five royal crowns to topple downF
As gallant Diaz didA2
-
Hath Xeres any Pounder nowF
When other weapons failL2
With club to thrash invaders rashM2
Like barley with a flailL2
Hath Seville any Perez stillN2
To lay his clusters lowO2
And ride with seven turbans greenF
Around his saddle bowF
-
No never more shall Europe seeE
Such Heroes brave and boldA2
Such Valor Faith and LoyaltyE
As used to shine of oldA2
No longer to one battle cryP2
United Spaniards runF
And with their thronging spears upholdA2
The Virgin and her SonF
-
From Cadiz Bay to rough BiscayJ2
Internal discord dwellsY
And Barcelona bears the scarsY
Of Spanish shot and shellsY
The fleets decline the merchants pineF
For want of foreign tradeA2
And gold is scant and AlicanteA2
Is seal'd by strict blockadeA2
-
The loyal fly and Valor fallsY
Opposed by court intrigueJ2
But treachery and traitors thriveQ2
Upheld by foreign leagueJ2
While factions seeking private endsY
By turns usurping reignF
Well may the dreaming scheming MoorK
Exulting point to SpainF
-
Well may he cleanse the rusty KeyJ2
With Afric sand and oilR2
And hope an Andalusian homeS2
Shall recompense the toilR2
Well may he swear the Moorish spearT2
Through wild Castile shall sweepH2
And where the Catalonian sowedA2
The Saracen shall reapH2
-
Well may he vow to spurn the CrossY
Beneath the Arab hoofU2
And plant the Crescent yet againF
Above th' Alhambra's roofU2
When those from whom St Jago's nameV
In chorus once aroseY
Are shouting Faction's battle criesY
And Spain forgets to 'Close '-
-
Well may he swear his ataghanF
Shall rout the traitor swarmV2
And carve them into ArabesquesY
That show no human formV2
The blame be theirs whose bloody feudsY
Invite the savage MoorK
And tempt him with the ancient KeyJ2
To seek the ancient doorO

Thomas Hood



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