To Mr. Pope Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AA BBCCDD EEFF GGHIJJ KKLLMMGGNNOP QQRRFFSSTTGGUUVVWW XYZZA2A2B2C2ZZLLD2E2 NNOF2 G2G2YYBVH2H2UU I2J2JJFFK2K2YYL2L2VV IH| A | |
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| To praise and still with just respect to praise | B |
| A Bard triumphant in immortal bays | B |
| The Learn'd to show the Sensible commend | C |
| Yet still preserve the province of the Friend | C |
| What life what vigour must the lines require | D |
| What Music tune them what affection fire | D |
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| O might thy Genius in my bosom shine | E |
| Thou should'st not fail of numbers worthy thine | E |
| The brightest Ancients might at once agree | F |
| To sing within my lays and sing of thee | F |
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| Horace himself wou'd own thou dost excell | G |
| In candid arts to play the Critic well | G |
| Ovid himself might wish to sing the Dame | H |
| Whom Windsor Forest sees a gliding stream | I |
| On silver feet with annual Osier crown'd | J |
| She runs for ever thro' Poetic ground | J |
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| How flame the glories of Belinda's Hair | K |
| Made by thy Muse the envy of the Fair | K |
| Less shone the tresses gypt's Princess wore | L |
| Which sweet Callimachus so sung before | L |
| Here courtly trifles set the world at odds | M |
| Belles war with Beaus and Whims descend for Gods | M |
| The new Machines in names of ridicule | G |
| Mock the grave frenzy of the Chimick fool | G |
| But know ye fair a point conceal'd with art | N |
| The Sylphs and Gnomes are but a woman's heart | N |
| The Graces stand in sight a Satyr train | O |
| Peeps o'er their head and laughs behind the scene | P |
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| In Fame's fair Temple o'er the boldest wits | Q |
| Inshrin'd on high the sacred Virgil sits | Q |
| And sits in measures such as Virgil's Muse | R |
| To place thee near him might be fond to chuse | R |
| How might he tune th' alternate reed with thee | F |
| Perhaps a Strephon thou a Daphnis he | F |
| While some old Damon o'er the vulgar wise | S |
| Thinks he deserves and thou deserv'st the Prize | S |
| Rapt with the thought my fancy seeks the plains | T |
| And turns me shepherd while I hear the strains | T |
| Indulgent nurse of ev'ry tender gale | G |
| Parent of flowrets old Arcadia hail | G |
| Here in the cool my limbs at ease I spread | U |
| Here let thy Poplars whisper o'er my head | U |
| Still slide thy waters soft among the trees | V |
| Thy Aspins quiver in a breathing breeze | V |
| Smile all ye valleys in eternal spring | W |
| Be hush'd ye winds while Pope and Virgil sing | W |
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| In English lays and all sublimely great | X |
| Thy Homer warms with all his ancient heat | Y |
| He shines in Council thunders in the fight | Z |
| And flames with ev'ry sense of great delight | Z |
| Long has that Poet reign'd and long unknown | A2 |
| Like Monarchs sparkling on a distant throne | A2 |
| In all the majesty of Greek retir'd | B2 |
| Himself unknown his mighty name admir'd | C2 |
| His language failing wrapt him round with night | Z |
| Thine rais'd by thee recalls the work to light | Z |
| So wealthy Mines that ages long before | L |
| Fed the large realms around with golden Oar | L |
| When choak'd by sinking banks no more appear | D2 |
| And shepherds only say The mines were here | E2 |
| Should some rich youth if nature warm his heart | N |
| And all his projects stand inform'd with art | N |
| Here clear the caves there ope the leading vein | O |
| The mines detected flame with gold again | F2 |
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| How vast how copious are thy new designs | G2 |
| How ev'ry Music varies in thy lines | G2 |
| Still as I read I feel my bosom beat | Y |
| And rise in raptures by another's heat | Y |
| Thus in the wood when summer dress'd the days | B |
| When Windsor lent us tuneful hours of ease | V |
| Our ears the lark the thrush the turtle blest | H2 |
| And Philomela sweetest o'er the rest | H2 |
| The shades resound with song O softly tread | U |
| While a whole season warbles round my head | U |
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| This to my friend and when a friend inspires | I2 |
| My silent harp its master's hand requires | J2 |
| Shakes off the dust and makes these rocks resound | J |
| For fortune plac'd me in unfertile ground | J |
| Far from the joys that with my soul agree | F |
| From wit from learning very far from thee | F |
| Here moss grown trees expand the smallest leaf | K2 |
| Here half an Acre's corn is half a sheaf | K2 |
| Here hills with naked heads the tempest meet | Y |
| Rocks at their sides and torrents at their feet | Y |
| Or lazy lakes unconscious of a flood | L2 |
| Whose dull brown Naiads ever sleep in mud | L2 |
| Yet here Content can dwell and learned ease | V |
| A Friend delight me and an Author please | V |
| Ev'n here I sing when Pope supplies the theme | I |
| Shew my own love tho' not increase his fame | H |
Thomas Parnell
(1)
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