On A Great Hollow Tree Poem Rhyme Scheme

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Preethee stand still awhile and view this tree	A
Renown'd and honour'd for antiquitie	B
By all the neighbour twiggs for such are all	C
The trees adjoyning bee they nere so tall	C
Comparde to this if here Jacke Maypole stood	B
All men would sweare 'twere but a fishing rodde	B
Mark but the gyant trunk which when you see	A
You see how many woods and groves there bee	A
Compris'd within one elme The hardy stocke	D
Is knotted like a clubb and who dares mocke	D
His strength by shaking it Each brawny limbe	E
Could pose the centaure Monychus or him	E
That wav'de a hundred hands ere hee could wield	B
That sturdy waight whose large extent might shield	B
A poore man's tenement Greate Ceres' oake	D
Which Erisichthon feld could not provoke	D
Halfe so much hunger for his punishment	B
As hewing this would doe by consequent	B
	-
	-
Nothing but age could tame it Age came on	F
And loe a lingering consumption	G
Devour'd the entralls where an hollow cave	H
Without the workman's helpe beganne to have	I
The figure of a Tent a pretty cell	J
Where grand Silenus might not scorne to dwell	J
And owles might feare to harbour though they brought	B
Minerva's warrant for to bear them out	B
In this their bold attempt Looke down into	B
The twisted curles the wreathing to and fro	K
Contrived by nature where you may descry	K
How hall and parlour how the chambers lie	L
And wer't not strange to see men stand alone	M
On leggs of skinne without or flesh or bone	M
Or that the selfe same creature should survive	N
After the heart is dead This tree can thrive	N
Thus maym'd and thus impayr'd no other proppe	O
But only barke remayns to keep it uppe	O
Yet thus supported it doth firmly stand	B
Scorning the saw pitt though so neere at hand	B
No yawning grave this grandsire Elme can fright	B
Whilst yongling trees are martyr'd in his sight	B
O learne the thrift of Nature that maintaines	A
With needy myre stolne upp in hidden veynes	A
So great a bulke of wood Three columes rest	B
Upon the rotten trunke wherof the least	B
Were mast for Argos Th' open backe below	K
And three long leggs alone doe make it shew	B
Like a huge trivett or a monstrous chayre	K
With the heeles turn'd upward How proper O how fayre	K
A seate were this for old Diogenes	A
To grumble in and barke out oracles	A
And answere to the Raven's augury	K
That builds above Why grew not this strange tree	K
Neere Delphos had this wooden majesty	K
Stood in Dodona forrest then would Jove	N
Foregoe his oake and only this approve	N
Had those old Germans that did once admire	K
Deformed Groves and worshipping with fire	K
Burnt men unto theyr gods had they but seene	M
These horrid stumps they canonizde had beene	M
And highly too This tree would calme more gods	A
Than they had men to sacrifice by odds	A
	-
	-
You Hamadryades that wood borne bee	K
Tell mee the causes how this portly tree	K
Grew to this haughty stature Was it then	M
Because the mummys of so many men	M
Fattned the ground or cause the neighbor spring	D
Conduits of water to the roote did bring	D
Was it with Whitsun sweat or ample snuffes	A
Of my Lord's beere that such a bignesse stuffes	A
And breaks the barke O this it is no doubt	B
This tree I warrant you can number out	B
Your Westwell annals distinctly tell	J
The progresse of this hundred years as well	J
By Lords and Ladies as ere Rome could doe	K
By Consulships These boughes can witnesse too	B
How goodman Berry tript it in his youth	P
And how his daughter Joane of late forsooth	P
Became her place It might as well have grown	M
If Pan had pleas'd on toppe of Westwell downe	M
Instead of that proud Ash and easily	K
Have given ayme to travellers passing by	L
With wider armes But see it more desirde	B
Here to bee lov'd at home than there admirde	B
And porter like it here defends the gate	B
As if it once had beene greate Askapate	B
Had warlike Arthur's dayes enjoy'd this Elme	E
Sir Tristram's blade and good Sir Lancelot's helme	E
Had then bedeckt his locks with fertile store	K
Of votive reliques which those champions wore	K
Untill perhaps as 'tis with great men found	B
Those burdenous honours crusht it to the ground	B
But in these merry times 'twere farre more trimme	E
If pipes and citterns hung on every limbe	E
And since the fidlers it hath heard so long	D
I'me sure by this time it deserves my song	D

William Strode

On A Great Hollow Tree Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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