Fontenoy Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDAAEE A EEFFEEGGHH A EEEEEEIIJJ K LLMMAANNOP K QQRREESSQR A TTUUEEVVWW| I | A |
| - | |
| Thrice at the huts of Fontenoy the English column failed | B |
| And twice the lines of Saint Antoine the Dutch in vain assailed | B |
| For town and slope were filled with fort and flanking battery | C |
| And well they swept the English ranks and Dutch auxiliary | C |
| As vainly through De Barri's wood the British soldiers burst | D |
| The French artillery drove them back diminished and dispersed | D |
| The bloody Duke of Cumberland beheld with anxious eye | A |
| And ordered up his last reserve his latest chance to try | A |
| On Fontenoy on Fontenoy how fast his generals ride | E |
| And mustering come his chosen troops like clouds at eventide | E |
| - | |
| - | |
| II | A |
| - | |
| Six thousand English veterans in stately column tread | E |
| Their cannon blaze in front and flank Lord Hay is at their head | E |
| Steady they step a down the slope steady they climb the hill | F |
| Steady they load steady they fire moving right onward still | F |
| Betwixt the wood and Fontenoy as through a furnace blast | E |
| Through rampart trench and palisade and bullets showering fast | E |
| And on the open plain above they rose and kept their course | G |
| With ready fire and grim resolve that mocked at hostile force | G |
| Past Fontenoy past Fontenoy while thinner grew their ranks | H |
| They break as broke the Zuyder Zee through Holland's ocean banks | H |
| - | |
| - | |
| III | A |
| - | |
| More idly than the summer flies French tirailleurs rush round | E |
| As stubble to the lava tide French squadrons strew the ground | E |
| Bomb shell and grape and round shot tore still on they marched and fired | E |
| Fast from each volley grenadier and voltigeur retired | E |
| Push on my household cavalry King Louis madly cried | E |
| To death they rush but rude their shock not unavenged they died | E |
| On through the camp the column trod King Louis turns his rein | I |
| Not yet my liege Saxe interposed the Irish troops remain | I |
| And Fontenoy famed Fontenoy had been a Waterloo | J |
| Were not these exiles ready then fresh vehement and true | J |
| - | |
| - | |
| IV | K |
| - | |
| Lord Clare he says you have your wish there are your Saxon foes | L |
| The Marshal almost smiles to see so furiously he goes | L |
| How fierce the look these exiles wear who're wont to be so gay | M |
| The treasured wrongs of fifty years are in their hearts to day | M |
| The treaty broken ere the ink wherewith 'twas writ could dry | A |
| Their plundered homes their ruined shrines their women's parting cry | A |
| Their priesthood hunted down like wolves their country overthrown | N |
| Each looks as if revenge for all were staked on him alone | N |
| On Fontenoy on Fontenoy nor ever yet elsewhere | O |
| Rushed on to fight a nobler band than these proud exiles were | P |
| - | |
| - | |
| V | K |
| - | |
| O'Brien's voice is hoarse with joy as halting he commands | Q |
| Fix bay'nets charge Like mountain storm rush on these fiery bands | Q |
| Thin is the English column now and faint their volleys grow | R |
| Yet must'ring all the strength they have they make a gallant show | R |
| They dress their ranks upon the hill to face that battle wind | E |
| Their bayonets the breakers' foam like rocks the men behind | E |
| One volley crashes from their line when through the surging smoke | S |
| With empty guns clutched in their hands the headlong Irish broke | S |
| On Fontenoy on Fontenoy hark to that fierce huzza | Q |
| Revenge remember Limerick dash down the Sacsanach | R |
| - | |
| - | |
| VI | A |
| - | |
| Like lions leaping at a fold when mad with hunger's pang | T |
| Right up against the English line the Irish exiles sprang | T |
| Bright was their steel 'tis bloody now their guns are filled with gore | U |
| Through shattered ranks and severed files the trampled flags they tore | U |
| The English strove with desperate strength paused rallied staggered fled | E |
| The green hill side is matted close with dying and with dead | E |
| Across the plain and far away passed on that hideous wrack | V |
| While cavalier and fantassin dash in upon their track | V |
| On Fontenoy on Fontenoy like eagles in the sun | W |
| With bloody plumes the Irish stand the field is fought and won | W |
Thomas Osborne Davis
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