New-fashioned Echoes Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A B C D EF GHGH IFIF FJFJ KIKI FKFK KLKL FMFM FKNK ONON NMNM NKNK FNFN MIMI PFPF PQPQ

SirA
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Most of your readers are no doubt acquainted with the anecdote told of a certain not over wise judge who when in the act of delivering a charge in some country court house was interrupted by the braying of an ass at the door What noise is that asked the angry judge Only an extraordinary echo there is in court my Lord answered one of the counselB
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As there are a number of such extraordinary echoes abroad just now you will not perhaps be unwilling Mr Editor to receive the following few lines suggested by themC
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Yours etc SD
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huc coeamus ait nullique libentius unquam responsura sono coeamus retulit echoE
OVIDF
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There are echoes we know of all sortsG
From the echo that dies in the daleH
To the airy tongued babbler that sportsG
Up the tide of the torrent her taleH
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There are echoes that bore us like BluesI
With the latest smart mot they have heardF
There are echoes extremely like shrewsI
Letting nobody have the last wordF
-
In the bogs of old Paddy land tooF
Certain talented echoes there dwellJ
Who on being askt How do you doF
Politely reply Pretty wellJ
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But why should I talk any moreK
Of such old fashioned echoes as theseI
When Britain has new ones in storeK
That transcend them by many degreesI
-
For of all repercussions of soundF
Concerning which bards make a potherK
There's none like that happy reboundF
When one blockhead echoes an otherK
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When Kenyon commences the brayK
And the Borough Duke follows his trackL
And loudly from Dublin's sweet bayK
Rathdowne brays with interest backL
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And while of most echoes the soundF
On our ear by reflection doth fallM
These Brunswickers pass the bray roundF
Without any reflection at allM
-
Oh Scott were I gifted like youF
Who can name all the echoes there areK
From Benvoirlich to bold BenvenueN
From Benledi to wild UamvarK
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I might track thro' each hard Irish nameO
The rebounds of this asinine strainN
Till from Neddy to Neddy it cameO
To the chief Neddy Kenyon againN
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Might tell how it roared in RathdowneN
How from Dawson it died off genteellyM
How hollow it hung from the crownN
Of the fat pated Marquis of ElyM
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How on hearing my Lord of GlandineN
Thistle eaters the stoutest gave wayK
Outdone in their own special lineN
By the forty ass power of his brayK
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But no for so humble a bardF
'Tis a subject too trying to touch onN
Such noblemen's names are too hardF
And their noddles too soft to dwell much onN
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Oh Echo sweet nymph of the hillM
Of the dell and the deep sounding shelvesI
If in spite of Narcissus you stillM
Take to fools who are charmed with themselvesI
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Who knows but some morning retiringP
To walk by the Trent's wooded sideF
You may meet with Newcastle admiringP
His own lengthened ears in the tideF
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Or on into Cambria strayingP
Find Kenyon that double tongued elfQ
In his love of ass cendency brayingP
A Brunswick duet with himselfQ

Thomas Moore



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