On The Death Of The Bishop Of Ely.[1] Anno Aetates 17. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCBBDDEEFFGGHHHH IJHHKKLLMMLLNNHHLLIJ OOPPLLMMHHLLQJRJHHJJ JJMMLLMM

My lids with grief were tumid yetA
And still my sullied cheek was wetA
With briny dews profusely shedB
For venerable Winton deadB
When Fame whose tales of saddest soundC
Alas are ever truest foundC
The news through all our cities spreadB
Of yet another mitred headB
By ruthless Fate to Death consign'dD
Ely the honour of his kindD
At once a storm of passion heav'dE
My boiling bosom much I grievedE
But more I raged at ev'ry breathF
Devoting Death himself to deathF
With less revenge did Naso teemG
When hated Ibis was his themeG
With less Archilochus deniedH
The lovely Greek his promis'd brideH
But lo while thus I execrateH
Incens'd the Minister of FateH
Wondrous accents soft yet clearI
Wafted on the gale I hearJ
Ah much deluded lay asideH
Thy threats and anger misappliedH
Art not afraid with sounds like theseK
T'offend whom thou canst not appeaseK
Death is not wherefore dream'st thou thusL
The son of Night and ErebusL
Nor was of fel Erynnis bornM
In gulphs where Chaos rules forlornM
But sent from God his presence leavesL
To gather home his ripen'd sheavesL
To call encumber'd souls awayN
From fleshly bonds to boundless dayN
As when the winged Hours exciteH
And summon forth the Morning lightH
And each to convoy to her placeL
Before th'Eternal Father's faceL
But not the wicked Them severeI
Yet just from all their pleasures hereJ
He hurries to the realms belowO
Terrific realms of penal woeO
Myself no sooner heard his callP
Than scaping through my prison wallP
I bade adieu to bolts and barsL
And soar'd with angels to the starsL
Like Him of old to whom 'twas giv'nM
To mount on fiery wheels to heav'nM
Bootes' wagon slow with coldH
Appall'd me not nor to beholdH
The sword that vast Orion drawsL
Or ev'n the Scorpion's horrid clawsL
Beyond the Sun's bright orb I flyQ
And far beneath my feet descryJ
Night's dread goddess seen with aweR
Whom her winged dragons drawJ
Thus ever wond'ring at my speedH
Augmented still as I proceedH
I pass the Planetary sphereJ
The Milky Way and now appearJ
Heav'ns crystal battlements her doorJ
Of massy pearl and em'rald floorJ
But here I cease For never canM
The tongue of once a mortal manM
In suitable description traceL
The pleasures of that happy placeL
Suffice it that those joys divineM
Are all and all for ever mineM

William Cowper



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