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

Rhyme Scheme: AAABBCCDDEEBBFFGGHIJ JEEKKLCGGMMBBNNOOEEP PQQRRGGSSPPTTUUVWIXY YZZA2A2IIA2A2B2B2C2C 2A2A2D2D2D2D2LLE2E2B BF2F2G2BF2F2F2F2D2D2 RRRH2H2F2F2D2D2D2D2D 2D2D2D2D2RRRI2I2LCA2 A2F2F2A2A2FFA2A2RRA2 A2E2E2CCA2A2D2D2RRRR J2J2RRA2A2A2A2K2K2RR A2D2A2RRE2E2L2L2LLC2 D2RRA2A2C2D2D2D2MMII M2M2D2D2A2A2D2D2K2K2 N2N2N2K2K2F2F2YYYK2K 2A2A2K2K2L2L2E2E2O2O 2DDRRD2D2A2A2A2A2F2F 2D2D2D2F2F2F2F2J2J2

Heap on more wood the wind is chillA
But let it whistle as it willA
We'll keep our Christmas merry stillA
Each age has deemed the new born yearB
The fittest time for festal cheerB
E'en heathen yet the savage DaneC
At Iol more deep the mead did drainC
High on the beach his galleys drewD
And feasted all his pirate crewD
Then in his low and pine built hallE
Where shields and axes decked the wallE
They gorged upon the half dressed steerB
Caroused in seas of sable beerB
While round in brutal jest were thrownF
The half gnawed rib and marrow boneF
Or listened all in grim delightG
While scalds yelled out the joys of fightG
Then forth in frenzy would they hieH
While wildly loose their red locks flyI
And dancing round the blazing pileJ
They make such barbarous mirth the whileJ
As best might to the mind recallE
The boist'rous joys of Odin's hallE
And well our Christian sires of oldK
Loved when the year its course had rolledK
And brought blithe Christmas back againL
With all his hospitable trainC
Domestic and religious riteG
Gave honour to the holy nightG
On Christmas Eve the bells were rungM
On Christmas Eve the mass was sungM
That only night in all the yearB
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rearB
The damsel donned her kirtle sheenN
The hall was dressed with holly greenN
Forth to the wood did merry men goO
To gather in the mistletoeO
Then opened wide the baron's hallE
To vassal tenant serf and allE
Power laid his rod of rule asideP
And Ceremony doffed his prideP
The heir with roses in his shoesQ
That night might village partner chooseQ
The lord underogating shareR
The vulgar game of post and pairR
All hailed with uncontrolled delightG
And general voice the happy nightG
That to the cottage as the crownS
Brought tidings of salvation downS
The fire with well dried logs suppliedP
Went roaring up the chimney wideP
The huge hall table's oaken faceT
Scrubbed till it shone the day to graceT
Bore then upon its massive boardU
No mark to part the squire and lordU
Then was brought in the lusty brawnV
By old blue coated serving manW
Then the grim boar's head frowned on highI
Crested with bays and rosemaryX
Well can the green garbed ranger tellY
How when and where the monster fellY
What dogs before his death he toreZ
And all the baiting of the boarZ
The wassail round in good brown bowlsA2
Garnished with ribbons blithely trowlsA2
There the huge sirloin reeked hard byI
Plum porridge stood and Christmas pieI
Nor failed old Scotland to produceA2
At such high tide her savoury gooseA2
Then came the merry maskers inB2
And carols roared with blithesome dinB2
If unmelodious was the songC2
It was a hearty note and strongC2
Who lists may in their mumming seeA2
Traces of ancient mysteryA2
White shirts supplied the masqueradeD2
And smutted cheeks the visors madeD2
But oh what maskers richly dightD2
Can boast of bosoms half so lightD2
England was merry England whenL
Old Christmas brought his sports againL
'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest aleE2
'Twas Christmas told the merriest taleE2
A Christmas gambol oft could cheerB
The poor man's heart through half the yearB
Still linger in our Northern climeF2
Some remnants of the good old timeF2
And still within our valleys hereG2
We hold the kindred title dearB
Even when perchance its far fetched claimF2
To Southern ear sounds empty nameF2
For course of blood our proverbs deemF2
Is warmer than the mountain streamF2
And thus my Christmas still I holdD2
Where my great grandsire came of oldD2
With amber beard and flaxen hairR
And reverend apostolic airR
The feast and holy tide to shareR
And mix sobriety with wineH2
And honest mirth with thoughts divineH2
Small thought was his in after timeF2
E'er to be hitched into a rhymeF2
The simple sire could only boastD2
That he was loyal to his costD2
The banished race of kings reveredD2
And lost his land but kept his beardD2
In these dear halls where welcome kindD2
Is with fair liberty combinedD2
Where cordial friendship gives the handD2
And flies constraint the magic wandD2
Of the fair dame that rules the landD2
Little we heed the tempest drearR
While music mirth and social cheerR
Speed on their wings the passing yearR
And Mertoun's halls are fair e'en nowI2
When not a leaf is on the boughI2
Tweed loves them well and turns againL
As loth to leave the sweet domainC
And holds his mirror to her faceA2
And clips her with a close embraceA2
Gladly as he we seek the domeF2
And as reluctant turn us homeF2
How just that at this time of gleeA2
My thoughts should Heber turn to theeA2
For many a merry hour we've knownF
And heard the chimes of midnight's toneF
Cease then my friend a moment ceaseA2
And leave these classic tomes in peaceA2
Of Roman and of Grecian loreR
Sure mortal brain can hold no moreR
These ancients as Noll Bluff might sayA2
Were pretty fellows in their dayA2
But time and tide o'er all prevailE2
On Christmas eve a Christmas taleE2
Of wonder and of war ProfaneC
What leave the loftier Latian strainC
Her stately prose her verse's charmsA2
To hear the clash of rusty armsA2
In Fairy Land or Limbo lostD2
To jostle conjuror and ghostD2
Goblin and witch Nay Heber dearR
Before you touch my charter hearR
Though Leyden aids alas no moreR
My cause with many languaged loreR
This may I say in realms of deathJ2
Ulysses meets Alcides' WRAITHJ2
AEneas upon Thracia's shoreR
The ghost of murdered PolydoreR
For omens we in Livy crossA2
At every turn locutus BosA2
As grave and duly speaks that oxA2
As if he told the price of stocksA2
Or held in Rome republicanK2
The place of common councilmanK2
All nations have their omens drearR
Their legends wild of woe and fearR
To Cambria look the peasant seeA2
Bethink him of GlendowerdyD2
And shun the spirit's blasted treeA2
The Highlander whose red claymoreR
The battle turned on Maida's shoreR
Will on a Friday morn look paleE2
If asked to tell a fairy taleE2
He fears the vengeful elfin kingL2
Who leaves that day his grassy ringL2
Invisible to human kenL
He walks among the sons of menL
Did'st e'er dear Heber pass alongC2
Beneath the towers of FranchemontD2
Which like an eagle's nest in airR
Hang o'er the stream and hamlet fairR
Deep in their vaults the peasants sayA2
A mighty treasure buried layA2
Amassed through rapine and through wrongC2
By the last Lord of FranchemontD2
The iron chest is bolted hardD2
A huntsman sits its constant guardD2
Around his neck his horn is hungM
His hanger in his belt is slungM
Before his feet his blood hounds lieI
And 'twere not for his gloomy eyeI
Whose withering glance no heart can brookM2
As true a huntsman doth he lookM2
As bugle e'er in brake did soundD2
Or ever hallooed to a houndD2
To chase the fiend and win the prizeA2
In that same dungeon ever triesA2
An aged necromantic priestD2
It is an hundred years at leastD2
Since 'twixt them first the strife begunK2
And neither yet has lost nor wonK2
And oft the conjuror's words will makeN2
The stubborn demon groan and quakeN2
And oft the bands of iron breakN2
Or bursts one lock that still amainK2
Fast as 'tis opened shuts againK2
That magic strife within the tombF2
May last until the day of doomF2
Unless the adept shall learn to tellY
The very word that clenched the spellY
When Franchemont locked the treasure cellY
A hundred years are past and goneK2
And scarce three letters has he wonK2
Such general superstition mayA2
Excuse for old Pitscottie sayA2
Whose gossip history has givenK2
My song the messenger from heavenK2
That warned in Lithgow Scotland's kingL2
Nor less the infernal summoningL2
May pass the monk of Durham's taleE2
Whose demon fought in Gothic mailE2
May pardon plead for Fordun graveO2
Who told of Gifford's goblin caveO2
But why such instances to youD
Who in an instant can renewD
Your treasured hoards of various loreR
And furnish twenty thousand moreR
Hoards not like theirs whose volumes restD2
Like treasures in the Franchemont chestD2
While gripple owners still refuseA2
To others what they cannot useA2
Give them the priest's whole centuryA2
They shall not spell you letters threeA2
Their pleasure in the books the sameF2
The magpie takes in pilfered gemF2
Thy volumes open as thy heartD2
Delight amusement science artD2
To every ear and eye impartD2
Yet who of all who thus employ themF2
Can like the owner's self enjoy themF2
But hark I hear the distant drumF2
The day of Flodden Field is comeF2
Adieu dear Heber life and healthJ2
And store of literary wealthJ2

Walter Scott (sir)



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