A Vision. By The Author Of "christabel." Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDAAEE FFGHIIJKIILLMMJKEE NNOPQQEERRSSTTEE UUVWLPXXXXYYZZA2A2B2 B2WWC2C2D2D2E2E2EE

Up said the Spirit and ere I could prayA
One hasty orison whirled me awayA
To a Limbo lying I wist not whereB
Above or below in earth or airB
For it glimmered o'er with a doubtful lightC
One couldn't say whether 'twas day or nightC
And 'twas crost by many a mazy trackD
One didn't know how to get on or backD
And I felt like a needle that's going astrayA
With its one eye out thro' a bundle of hayA
When the Spirit he grinned and whispered meE
Thou'rt now in the Court of ChanceryE
-
Around me flitted unnumbered swarmsF
Of shapeless bodiless tailless formsF
Like bottled up babes that grace the roomG
Of that worthy knight Sir Everard HomeH
All of them things half killed in rearingI
Some were lame some wanted hearingI
Some had thro' half a century runJ
Tho' they hadn't a leg to stand uponK
Others more merry as just beginningI
Around on a point of law were spinningI
Or balanced aloft 'twixt Bill and AnswerL
Lead at each end like a tight rope dancerL
Some were so cross that nothing could please 'emM
Some gulpt down affidavits to ease 'emM
All were in motion yet never a oneJ
Let it move as it might could ever move onK
These said the Spirit you plainly seeE
Are what they call suits in ChanceryE
-
I heard a loud screaming of old and youngN
Like a chorus by fifty Vellutis sungN
Or an Irish Dump the words by MooreO
At an amateur concert screamed in scoreP
So harsh on my ear that wailing fellQ
Of the wretches who in this Limbo dwellQ
It seemed like the dismal symphonyE
Of the shapes' Aeneas in hell did seeE
Or those frogs whose legs a barbarous cookR
Cut off and left the frogs in the brookR
To cry all night till life's last dregsS
Give us our legs give us our legsS
Touched with the sad and sorrowful sceneT
I askt what all this yell might meanT
When the Spirit replied with a grin of gleeE
'Tis the cry of the Suitors in ChanceryE
-
I lookt and I saw a wizard riseU
With a wig like a cloud before men's eyesU
In his aged hand he held a wandV
Wherewith he beckoned his embryo bandW
And they moved and moved as he waved it o'erL
But they never get on one inch the moreP
And still they kept limping to and froX
Like Ariels round old ProsperoX
Saying Dear Master let us goX
But still old Prospero answered NoX
And I heard the while that wizard elfY
Muttering muttering spells to himselfY
While o'er as many old papers he turnedZ
As Hume e'er moved for or Omar burnedZ
He talkt of his virtue tho' some less niceA2
He owned with a sigh preferred his ViceA2
And he said I think I doubt I hopeB2
Called God to witness and damned the PopeB2
With many more sleights of tongue and handW
I couldn't for the soul of me understandW
Amazed and posed I was just aboutC2
To ask his name when the screams withoutC2
The merciless clack of the imps withinD2
And that conjuror's mutterings made such a dinD2
That startled I woke leapt up in my bedE2
Found the Spirit the imps and the conjuror fledE2
And blest my stars right pleased to seeE
That I wasn't as yet in ChanceryE

Thomas Moore



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