The Monks Of St. Mark Poem Rhyme Scheme

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'Tis midnight the sky is with clouds overcast	A
The forest trees bend in the loud rushing blast	A
The rain strongly beats on these time hallow'd spires	B
The lightning pours swiftly its blue pointed fires	C
Triumphant the tempest fiend rides in the dark	D
And howls round the old abbey walls of St Mark	D
	-
The thunder whose roaring the trav'ller appals	C
Seems as if with the ground it would level the walls	C
But in vain pours the storm king this horrible rout	E
The uproar within drowns the uproar without	E
For the friars with Bacchus not Satan to grapple	F
The refect'ry have met in instead of the chapel	F
	-
'Stead of singing Te Deums on ground pressing knees	C
They were piously bawling songs catches and glees	C
Or all speakers no hearers unceasing untir'd	E
Each stoutly held forth by the spirit inspir'd	E
Till the Abbot who only the flock could controul	F
Exclaim'd Augustine pr'ythee push round the bowl	F
	-
The good brother obey'd but oh direful mishap	G
Threw its scalding contents in Jeronimo's lap	G
And o'er his bare feet as the boiling tide stream'd	E
Poor Augustine fretted Jeronimo scream'd	E
While Pedro protested it vex'd him infernally	F
To see such good beverage taken externally	F
	-
The Abbot Francisco then feelingly said	E
Let that poor wounded devil be carried to bed	E
And let Augustine who I boldly advance	C
Is the whole and sole cause of this fatal mischance	C
If e'er to forgiveness he dare to aspire	H
Now bear to his cell the unfortunate friar	I
	-
He rose to obey than a snail rather quicker	I
But finding his strength much diminish'd by liquor	I
Declar'd with a hiccup he scarcely could stand	E
And begged brother Pedro to lend him a hand	E
Brother Pedro consented but all was not right	E
Till Nicholas offer'd to carry a light	E
	-
By the head and the feet then their victim they held	E
Who with pain and with fear most tremendously yell'd	E
And with one little lamp that scarce shone through the gloom	J
In path curvilinear march'd out of the room	J
And unheeding the sound of the rain and the blast	E
Through the long dismal corridor fearlessly pass'd	E
	-
From the right to the left from the left to the right	E
Brother Nicholas reel'd inconsiderate wight	E
For not seeing the stairs to the hall floor that led	E
Instead of his heels he soon stood on his head	E
He rolls to the bottom the lamp flame expires	C
And darkness envelopes the wondering friars	C
	-
He squall'd for the burning oil pour'd on his hand	E
Bewilder'd did Pedro and Augustine stand	E
Then loud roar'd the thunder and Pedro in dread	E
Abandon'd his hold of Jeronimo's head	E
And Prone on the floor fell this son of the cowl	F
And howl'd deeply smarting a terrible howl	F
	-
Poor Augustine's bosom with terror was cold	E
On finding his burthen thus slide from his hold	E
Then cautiously stealing and groping around	E
He felt himself suddenly struck to the ground	E
Yells groans and strange noises were heard in the dark	D
And trembling and sweating he pray'd to St Mark I	K
	-
Meanwhile the good Abbot was boosing about	E
When a little alarm'd by the tumult without	E
Occasion'd by poor Brother Nich'las's fall	F
From the corridor stairs to the floor of the hall	F
Like a true jolly friend of good orderly laws	C
He serpentin'd out to discover the cause	C
	-
Bewilder'd by liquor by haste and by fright	E
He forgot that he stood in great need of a light	E
When hiccuping reeling and curving along	L
And humming a stave of a jolly old song	L
He receiv'd a rude shock from an object unseen	M
For he came in full contact with Saint Augustine	M
	-
By Jeronimo's carcase tripp'd up unawares	C
He was instantly hurl'd down the corridor stairs	C
Brother Nicholas there from the floor cold and damp	N
Was rising with what yet remain'd of his lamp	N
And the worthy superior's good supper to spoil	F
Regal'd his strange guest with a mouthful of oil	F
	-
Thence sprung the dire tumult which rising so near	O
Had fill'd Augustine with confusion and fear	O
But the sons of St Mark now appearing wit tapers	C
At once put an end to his pray'rs and his vapors	C
They reel'd back to their bowls laugh'd at care and foul weather	I
And were shortly all under the table together	I

Thomas Love Peacock

The Monks Of St. Mark Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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