The Troubadour Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABAB CDCD EFEF DGDG HIHI JKJK DLDL MNMN COC HPHP QHQH RCRC HSHS TTTQ UVUV WMXM YQYQ MZMZ A2LA2L CB2CB2 NC2NC2 MD2MD2

A troubadour he playedA
Without a castle wallB
Within a hapless maidA
Responded to his callB
-
Oh willow woe is meC
Alack and well a dayD
If I were only freeC
I'd hide me far awayD
-
Unknown her face and nameE
But this he knew right wellF
The maiden's wailing cameE
From out a dungeon cellF
-
A hapless woman layD
Within that dungeon grimG
That fact I've heard him sayD
Was quite enough for himG
-
I will not sit or lieH
Or eat or drink I vowI
Till thou art free as IH
Or I as pent as thouI
-
Her tears then ceased to flowJ
Her wails no longer rangK
And tuneful in her woeJ
The prisoned maiden sangK
-
Oh stranger as you playD
I recognize your touchL
And all that I can sayD
Is thank you very muchL
-
He seized his clarion straightM
And blew thereat untilN
A warden oped the gateM
Oh what might be your willN
-
I've come Sir Knave to seeC
The master of these hallsO
A maid unwillinglyC
Lies prisoned in their walls '-
-
With barely stifled sighH
That porter drooped his headP
With teardrops in his eyeH
A many sir he saidP
-
He stayed to hear no moreQ
But pushed that porter byH
And shortly stood beforeQ
SIR HUGH DE PECKHAM RYEH
-
SIR HUGH he darkly frownedR
What would you sir with meC
The troubadour he downedR
Upon his bended kneeC
-
I've come DE PECKHAM RYEH
To do a Christian taskS
You ask me what would IH
It is not much I askS
-
Release these maidens sirT
Whom you dominion o'erT
Particularly herT
Upon the second floorQ
-
And if you don't my lordU
He here stood bolt uprightV
And tapped a tailor's swordU
Come out you cad and fightV
-
SIR HUGH he called and ranW
The warden from the gateM
Go show this gentlemanX
The maid in Forty eightM
-
By many a cell they pastY
And stopped at length beforeQ
A portal bolted fastY
The man unlocked the doorQ
-
He called inside the gateM
With coarse and brutal shoutZ
Come step it Forty eightM
And Forty eight stepped outZ
-
They gets it pretty hotA2
The maidens what we cotchL
Two years this lady's gotA2
For collaring a wotchL
-
Oh ah indeed I seeC
The troubadour exclaimedB2
If I may make so freeC
How is this castle namedB2
-
The warden's eyelids fillN
And sighing he repliedC2
Of gloomy PentonvilleN
This is the female sideC2
-
The minstrel did not waitM
The Warden stout to thankD2
But recollected straightM
He'd business at the BankD2

William Schwenck Gilbert



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About The Troubadour

The Troubadour is a poem by William Schwenck Gilbert. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.



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