The Fudges In England. Letter Iii. From Miss Fanny Fudge, To Her Cousin, Miss Kitty ---- Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A B CDCDC EFEFG BHBHB I JKJKJ LMLMMNO LLLPPQQQ RRSSTTUUJVLLRRWWRRXX YYRRRRRRZZRRA2A2RRKK LL LLWB2WB2RRFGC2C2 XXD2E2F2F2QQLLRRROO RRWJG2G2JQRQR H2LH2LRRI2I2OOQQQOOF 2RF2R J2J2YYC2C2K2K2K2LRL L2 OOM2M2OON2N2N2

STANZAS ENCLOSEDA
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TO MY SHADOW OR WHY WHAT HOWB
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Dark comrade of my path while earth and skyC
Thus wed their charms in bridal light arrayedD
Why in this bright hour walkst thou ever nighC
Blackening my footsteps with thy length of shadeD
Dark comrade WHYC
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Thou mimic Shape that mid these flowery scenesE
Glidest beside me o'er each sunny spotF
Saddening them as thou goest say what meansE
So dark an adjunct to so bright a lotF
Grim goblin WHATG
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Still as to pluck sweet flowers I bend my browB
Thou bendest too then risest when I riseH
Say mute mysterious Thing how is't that thouB
Thus comest between me and those blessed skiesH
Dim shadow HOWB
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ADDITIONAL STANZA BY ANOTHER HANDI
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Thus said I to that Shape far less in grudgeJ
Than gloom of soul while as I eager criedK
Oh Why What How a Voice that one might judgeJ
To be some Irish echo's faint repliedK
Oh fudge fudge fudgeJ
-
You have here dearest Coz my last lyric effusionL
And with it that odious additional stanzaM
Which Aunt will insist I must keep as conclusionL
And which you'll at once see is Mr Magan's aM
Most cruel and dark designed extravaganzaM
And part of that plot in which he and my Aunt areN
To stifle the flights of my genius by banterO
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Just so 'twas with Byron's young eagle eyed strainL
Just so did they taunt him but vain critics vainL
All your efforts to saddle Wit's fire with a chainL
To blot out the splendor of Fancy's young streamP
Or crop in its cradle her newly fledged beamP
Thou perceivest dear that even while these lines I inditeQ
Thoughts burn brilliant fancies break out wrong or rightQ
And I'm all over poet in Criticism's spiteQ
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That my Aunt who deals only in Psalms and regardsR
Messrs Sternhold and Co as the first of all bardsR
That she should make light of my works I can't blameS
But that nice handsome odious Magan what a shameS
Do you know dear that high as on most points I rate himT
I'm really afraid after all I must hate himT
He is so provoking naught's safe from his tongueU
He spares no one authoress ancient or youngU
Were you Sappho herself and in Keepsake or BijouJ
Once shone as contributor Lord how he'd quiz youV
He laughs at all Monthlies I've actually seenL
A sneer on his brow at The Court MagazineL
While of Weeklies poor things there's but one he perusesR
And buys every book which that Weekly abusesR
But I care not how others such sarcasm may fearW
One spirit at least will not bend to his sneerW
And tho' tried by the fire my young genius shall burn asR
Uninjured as crucified gold in the furnaceR
I suspect the word crucified must be made crucibleX
Before this fine image of mine is producibleX
And now dear to tell you a secret which prayY
Only trust to such friends as with safety you mayY
You know and indeed the whole country suspectsR
Tho' the Editor often my best things rejectsR
That the verses signed so symbol hand which you now and then seeR
In our County Gazette vide last are by meR
But 'tis dreadful to think what provoking mistakesR
The vile country Press in one's prosody makesR
For you know dear I may without vanity hintZ
Tho' an angel should write still 'tis devils must printZ
And you can't think what havoc these demons sometimesR
Choose to make of one's sense and what's worse of one's rhymesR
But a week or two since in my Ode upon SpringA2
Which I meant to have made a most beautiful thingA2
Where I talkt of the dewdrops from freshly blown rosesR
The nasty things made it from freshly blown nosesR
And once when to please my cross Aunt I had triedK
To commemorate some saint of her cligue who'd just diedK
Having said he had taken up in heaven his positionL
They made it he'd taken up to heaven his physicianL
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This is very disheartening but brighter days shineL
I rejoice love to say both for me and the NineL
For what do you think so delightful next yearW
Oh prepare dearest girl for the grand news prepareB2
I'm to write in The Keepsake yes Kitty my dearW
To write in The Keepsake as sure as you're thereB2
T' other night at a Ball 'twas my fortunate chanceR
With a very nice elderly Dandy to danceR
Who 'twas plain from some hints which I now and then caughtF
Was the author of something one couldn't tell whatG
But his satisfied manner left no room to doubtC2
It was something that Colburn had lately brought outC2
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We conversed of belles lettres thro' all the quadrilleX
Of poetry dancing of prose standing stillX
Talkt of Intellect's march whether right 'twas or wrongD2
And then settled the point in a bold en avantE2
In the course of this talk 'twas that having just hintedF2
That I too had Poems which longed to be printedF2
He protested kind man he had seen at first sightQ
I was actually born in The Keepsake to writeQ
In the Annals of England let some he said shineL
But a place in her Annuals Lady be thineL
Even now future 'Keepsakes' seem brightly to riseR
Thro' the vista of years as I gaze on those eyesR
All lettered and prest and of large paper sizeR
How unlike that Magan who my genius would smotherO
And how we true geniuses find out each otherO
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This and much more he said with that fine frenzied glanceR
One so rarely now sees as we slid thro' the danceR
Till between us 'twas finally fixt that next yearW
In this exquisite task I my pen should engageJ
And at parting he stoopt down and lispt in my earG2
These mystical words which I could but just hearG2
Terms for rhyme if it's prime ten and sixpence per pageJ
Think Kitty my dear if I heard his words rightQ
What a mint of half guineas this small head containsR
If for nothing to write is itself a delightQ
Ye Gods what a bliss to be paid for one's strainsR
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Having dropt the dear fellow a courtesy profoundH2
Off at once to inquire all about him I ranL
And from what I could learn do you know dear I've foundH2
That he's quite a new species of literary manL
One whose task is to what will not fashion accustom usR
To edit live authors as if they were posthumousR
For instance the plan to be sure is the oddestI2
If any young he or she author feels modestI2
In venturing abroad this kind gentleman usherO
Lends promptly a hand to the interesting blusherO
Indites a smooth Preface brings merit to lightQ
Which else might by accident shrink out of sightQ
And in short renders readers and critics politeQ
My Aunt says tho' scarce on such points one can credit herO
He was Lady Jane Thingumbob's last novel's editorO
'Tis certain the fashion's but newly inventedF2
And quick as the change of all things and all names isR
Who knows but as authors like girls are presentedF2
We girls may be edited soon at St James'sR
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I must now close my letter there's Aunt in full screechJ2
Wants to take me to hear some great Irvingite preachJ2
God forgive me I'm not much inclined I must sayY
To go and sit still to be preached at to dayY
And besides 'twill be all against dancing no doubtC2
Which my poor Aunt abhors with such hatred devoutC2
That so far from presenting young nymphs with a headK2
For their skill in the dance as of Herod is saidK2
She'd wish their own heads in the platter insteadK2
There again coming Ma'am I'll write more if I canL
Before the post goesR
Your affectionate FanL
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Four o'clockL2
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Such a sermon tho' not about dancing my dearO
'Twas only on the end of the world being nearO
Eighteen Hundred and Forty's the year that some stateM2
As the time for that accident some Forty EightM2
And I own of the two I'd prefer much the latterO
As then I shall be an old maid and 'twon't matterO
Once more love good by I've to make a new capN2
But am now so dead tired with this horrid mishapN2
Of the end of the world that I must take a napN2

Thomas Moore



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