O'connell's Statue Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A BBCCDDEE FFGHIIJJKKLL MMNNBBOO NNPPIIQQNNIIRRSSNNTT UUVWNNXXYYCCZZ A2A2B2B2C2C2D2E2F2F2 G2G2H2A NNI2I2I2I2I2I2I2J2K2 I2I2I2I2I2I2CC

Lines To HoganA
-
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Chisel the likeness of The ChiefB
Not in gaiety nor griefB
Change not by your art to stoneC
Ireland's laugh or Ireland's moanC
Dark her tale and none can tellD
Its fearful chronicle so wellD
Her frame is bent her wounds are deepE
Who like him her woes can weepE
-
He can be gentle as a brideF
While none can rule with kinglier prideF
Calm to hear and wise to proveG
Yet gay as lark in soaring loveH
Well it were posterityI
Should have some image of his gleeI
That easy humour blossomingJ
Like the thousand flowers of springJ
Glorious the marble which could showK
His bursting sympathy for woeK
Could catch the pathos flowing wildL
Like mother's milk to craving childL
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And oh how princely were the artM
Could mould his mien or tell his heartM
When sitting sole on Tara's hillN
While hung a million on his willN
Yet not in gaiety nor griefB
Chisel the image of our ChiefB
Nor even in that haughty hourO
When a nation owned his powerO
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But would you by your art unrollN
His own and Ireland's secret soulN
And give to other times to scanP
The greatest greatness of the manP
Fierce defiance let him beI
Hurling at our enemyI
From a base as fair and sureQ
As our love is true and pureQ
Let his statue rise as tallN
And firm as a castle wallN
On his broad brow let there beI
A type of Ireland's historyI
Pious generous deep and warmR
Strong and changeful as a stormR
Let whole centuries of wrongS
Upon his recollection throngS
Strongbow's force and Henry's wileN
Tudor's wrath and Stuart's guileN
And iron Strafford's tiger jawsT
And brutal Brunswick's penal lawsT
Not forgetting Saxon faithU
Not forgetting Norman scathU
Not forgetting William's wordV
Not forgetting Cromwell's swordW
Let the Union's fetter vileN
The shame and ruin of our isleN
Let the blood of 'Ninety EightX
And our present blighting fateX
Let the poor mechanic's lotY
And the peasant's ruined cotY
Plundered wealth and glory flownC
Ancient honours overthrownC
Let trampled altar rifled urnZ
Knit his look to purpose sternZ
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Mould all this into one thoughtA2
Like wizard cloud with thunder fraughtA2
Still let our glories through it gleamB2
Like fair flowers through a flooded streamB2
Or like a flashing wave at nightC2
Bright 'mid the solemn darkness brightC2
Let the memory of old daysD2
Shine through the statesman's anxious faceE2
Dathi's power and Brian's fameF2
And headlong Sarsfield's sword of flameF2
And the spirit of Red HughG2
And the pride of 'Eighty TwoG2
And the victories he wonH2
And the hope that leads him onA
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Let whole armies seem to flyN
From his threatening hand and eyeN
Be the strength of all the landI2
Like a falchion in his handI2
And be his gesture sternly grandI2
A braggart tyrant swore to smiteI2
A people struggling for their rightI2
O'Connell dared him to the fieldI2
Content to die but never yieldI2
Fancy such a soul as hisJ2
In a moment such as thisK2
Like cataract or foaming tideI2
Or army charging in its prideI2
Thus he spoke and thus he stoodI2
Proffering in our cause his bloodI2
Thus his country loves him bestI2
To image this is your behestI2
Chisel thus and thus aloneC
If to man you'd change the stoneC

Thomas Osborne Davis



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