Marmion: Introduction To Canto Ii. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCCDDEEFFGHIIJJK K CCLLMMNNOOPPQQRRSSTT CCCEEEUVVV CCUUWWLLXXYYCCZZEEA2 A2VVEEB2C2CCCCCD2CCE ECCEEAAE2E2F2F2VVII BBVVEECCG2G2H2H2QQI2 I2CCJ2J2K2K2ZZVVL2L2 VVRR EEEEM2M2CCN2O2P2RQ2Q 2R2R2S2S2T2T2VVAAEEP PVVVVCCCCU2U2V2V2 E2W2UUVVFF X2X2VVY2Z2CCK2K2CCCP PO2N2CCA3A3B3B3CCZZV VA3A3VVC3PCCI2I2L2D3 E3E3F3F3 X2X2CCEE CCG3ZEEEZZEEQ2Q2VVEE A3A3VVEEEEEEA3A3VV JJEE

The scenes are desert now and bareA
Where flourished once a forest fairA
When these waste glens with copse were linedB
And peopled with the hart and hindB
Yon thorn perchance whose prickly spearsC
Have fenced him for three hundred yearsC
While fell around his green compeersC
Yon lonely thorn would he could tellD
The changes of his parent dellD
Since he so grey and stubborn nowE
Waved in each breeze a sapling boughE
Would he could tell how deep the shadeF
A thousand mingled branches madeF
How broad the shadows of the oakG
How clung the rowan to the rockH
And through the foliage showed his headI
With narrow leaves and berries redI
What pines on every mountain sprungJ
O'er every dell what birches hungJ
In every breeze what aspens shookK
What alders shaded every brookK
-
Here in my shade methinks he'd sayC
The mighty stag at noontide layC
The wolf I've seen a fiercer gameL
The neighbouring dingle bears his nameL
With lurching step around me prowlM
And stop against the moon to howlM
The mountain boar on battle setN
His tusks upon my stem would whetN
While doe and roe and red deer goodO
Have bounded by through gay greenwoodO
Then oft from Newark's riven towerP
Sallied a Scottish monarch's powerP
A thousand vassals mustered roundQ
With horse and hawk and horn and houndQ
And I might see the youth intentR
Guard every pass with crossbow bentR
And through the brake the rangers stalkS
And falc'ners hold the ready hawkS
And foresters in greenwood trimT
Lead in the leash the gazehounds grimT
Attentive as the bratchet's bayC
From the dark covert drove the preyC
To slip them as he broke awayC
The startled quarry bounds amainE
As fast the gallant greyhounds strainE
Whistles the arrow from the bowE
Answers the arquebuss belowU
While all the rocking hills replyV
To hoof clang hound and hunter's cryV
And bugles ringing lightsomelyV
-
Of such proud huntings many talesC
Yet linger in our lonely dalesC
Up pathless Ettrick and on YarrowU
Where erst the outlaw drew his arrowU
But not more blithe that silvan courtW
Than we have been at humbler sportW
Though small our pomp and mean our gameL
Our mirth dear Mariott was the sameL
Remember'st thou my greyhounds trueX
O'er holt or hill there never flewX
From slip or leash there never sprangY
More fleet of foot or sure of fangY
Nor dull between each merry chaseC
Passed by the intermitted spaceC
For we had fair resource in storeZ
In Classic and in Gothic loreZ
We marked each memorable sceneE
And held poetic talk betweenE
Nor hill nor brook we paced alongA2
But had its legend or its songA2
All silent now for now are stillV
Thy bowers untenanted BowhillV
No longer from thy mountains dunE
The yeoman hears the well known gunE
And while his honest heart glows WarmB2
At thought of his paternal farmC2
Round to his mates a brimmer fillsC
And drinks The Chieftain of the HillsC
No fairy forms in Yarrow's bowersC
Trip o'er the walks or tend the flowersC
Fair as the elves whom Janet sawC
By moonlight dance on CarterhaughD2
No youthful baron's left to graceC
The forest sheriff's lonely chaseC
And ape in manly step and toneE
The majesty of OberonE
And she is gone whose lovely faceC
Is but her least and lowest graceC
Though if to sylphid queen 'twere givenE
To show our earth the charms of HeavenE
She could not glide along the airA
With form more light or face more fairA
No more the widow's deafened earE2
Grows quick that lady's step to hearE2
At noontide she expects her notF2
Nor busies her to trim the cotF2
Pensive she turns her humming wheelV
Or pensive cooks her orphans' mealV
Yet blesses ere she deals their breadI
The gentle hand by which they're fedI
-
From Yair which hills so closely bindB
Scarce can the Tweed his passage findB
Though much he fret and chafe and toilV
Till all his eddying currents boilV
Her long descended lord is goneE
And left us by the stream aloneE
And much I miss those sportive boysC
Companions of my mountain joysC
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youthG2
When thought is speech and speech is truthG2
Close to my side with what delightH2
They pressed to hear of Wallace wightH2
When pointing to his airy moundQ
I called his ramparts holy groundQ
Kindled their brows to hear me speakI2
And I have smiled to feel my cheekI2
Despite the difference of our yearsC
Return again the glow of theirsC
Ah happy boys such feelings pureJ2
They will not cannot long endureJ2
Condemned to stem the world's rude tideK2
You may not linger by the sideK2
For Fate shall thrust you from the shoreZ
And Passion ply the sail and oarZ
Yet cherish the remembrance stillV
Of the lone mountain and the rillV
For trust dear boys the time will comeL2
When fiercer transport shall be dumbL2
And you will think right frequentlyV
But well I hope without a sighV
On the free hours that we have spentR
Together on the brown hill's bentR
-
When musing on companions goneE
We doubly feel ourselves aloneE
Something my friend we yet may gainE
There is a pleasure in this painE
It soothes the love of lonely restM2
Deep in each gentler heart impressedM2
'Tis silent amid worldly toilsC
And stifled soon by mental broilsC
But in a bosom thus preparedN2
Its still small voice is often heardO2
Whispering a mingled sentimentP2
'Twixt resignation and contentR
Oft in my mind such thoughts awakeQ2
By lone Saint Mary's silent lakeQ2
Thou know'st it well nor fen nor sedgeR2
Pollute the pure lake's crystal edgeR2
Abrupt and sheer the mountains sinkS2
At once upon the level brinkS2
And just a trace of silver sandT2
Marks where the water meets the landT2
Far in the mirror bright and blueV
Each hill's huge outline you may viewV
Shaggy with heath but lonely bareA
Nor tree nor bush nor brake is thereA
Save where of land yon slender lineE
Bears thwart the lake the scattered pineE
Yet even this nakedness has powerP
And aids the feeling of the hourP
Nor thicket dell nor copse you spyV
Where living thing concealed might lieV
Nor point retiring hides a dellV
Where swain or woodman lone might dwellV
There's nothing left to fancy's guessC
You see that all is lonelinessC
And silence aids though the steep hillsC
Send to the lake a thousand rillsC
In summer tide so soft they weepU2
The sound but lulls the ear asleepU2
Your horse's hoof tread sounds too rudeV2
So stilly is the solitudeV2
-
Nought living meets the eye or earE2
But well I ween the dead are nearW2
For though in feudal strife a foeU
Hath lain our Lady's chapel lowU
Yet still beneath the hallowed soilV
The peasant rests him from his toilV
And dying bids his bones be laidF
Where erst his simple fathers prayedF
-
If age had tamed the passion's strifeX2
And fate had cut my ties to lifeX2
Here have I thought 'twere sweet to dwellV
And rear again the chaplain's cellV
Like that same peaceful hermitageY2
Where Milton longed to spend his ageZ2
'Twere sweet to mark the setting dayC
On Bourhope's lonely top decayC
And as it faint and feeble diedK2
On the broad lake and mountain's sideK2
To say Thus pleasures fade awayC
Youth talents beauty thus decayC
And leave us dark forlorn and greyC
Then gaze on Dryhope's ruined towerP
And think on Yarrow's faded FlowerP
And when that mountain sound I heardO2
Which bids us be for storm preparedN2
The distant rustling of his wingsC
As up his force the tempest bringsC
'Twere sweet ere yet his terrors raveA3
To sit upon the wizard's graveA3
That wizard priest's whose bones are thrustB3
From company of holy dustB3
On which no sunbeam ever shinesC
So superstition's creed divinesC
Thence view the lake with sullen roarZ
Heave her broad billows to the shoreZ
And mark the wild swans mount the galeV
Spread wide through mist their snowy sailV
And ever stoop again to laveA3
Their bosoms on the surging waveA3
Then when against the driving hailV
No longer might my plaid availV
Back to my lonely home retireC3
And light my lamp and trim my fireP
There ponder o'er some mystic layC
Till the wild tale had all its swayC
And in the bittern's distant shriekI2
I heard unearthly voices speakI2
And thought the wizard priest was comeL2
To claim again his ancient homeD3
And bade my busy fancy rangeE3
To frame him fitting shape and strangeE3
Till from the task my brow I clearedF3
And smiled to think that I had fearedF3
-
But chief 'twere sweet to think such lifeX2
Though but escape from fortune's strifeX2
Something most matchless good and wiseC
A great and grateful sacrificeC
And deem each hour to musing givenE
A step upon the road to heavenE
-
Yet him whose heart is ill at easeC
Such peaceful solitudes displeaseC
He loves to drown his bosom's jarG3
Amid the elemental warZ
And my black Palmer's choice had beenE
Some ruder and more savage sceneE
Like that which frowns round dark LochskeneE
There eagles scream from isle to shoreZ
Down all the rocks the torrents roarZ
O'er the black waves incessant drivenE
Dark mists infect the summer heavenE
Through the rude barriers of the lakeQ2
Away its hurrying waters breakQ2
Faster and whiter dash and curlV
Till down yon dark abyss they hurlV
Rises the fog smoke white as snowE
Thunders the viewless stream belowE
Diving as if condemned to laveA3
Some demon's subterranean caveA3
Who prisoned by enchanter's spellV
Shakes the dark rock with groan and yellV
And well that Palmer's form and mienE
Had suited with the stormy sceneE
Just on the edge straining his kenE
To view the bottom of the denE
Where deep deep down and far withinE
Toils with the rocks the roaring linnE
Then issuing forth one foamy waveA3
And wheeling round the giant's graveA3
White as the snowy charger's tailV
Drives down the pass of MoffatdaleV
-
Marriott thy harp on Isis strungJ
To many a Border theme has rungJ
Then list to me and thou shalt knowE
Of this mysterious man of woeE

Walter Scott (sir)



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