Analysis of An Acknowledgment

Henry King 1592 (Worminghall, Buckinghamshire) – 1669 (Chichester)



My best of friends! what needs a chain to tie
One by your merit bound a Votarie?
Think you I have some plot upon my peace,
I would this bondage change for a release?
Since 'twas my fate your prisoner to be,
Heav'n knows I nothing fear but libertie.
Yet you do well that study to prevent,
After so rich a stock of favour spent
On one so worthless, lest my memory
Should let so dear an obligation dy
Without Record. This made my precious Friend
Her Token, as an Antidote to send
Against forgetful poysons. That as they
Who Vespers late, and early Mattins say
Upon their Beads, so on this linked skore
In golden numbers I might reckon ore
Your vertues and my debt, which does surmount
The trivial laws of Popular account:
For that within this emblematick knot
Your beauteous mind, and my own fate is wrote.
The sparkling constellation which combines
The Lock, is your dear self, whose worth outshines
Most of your sex: so solid and so clear
You like a perfect Diamond appear;
Casting from your example fuller light
Then those dimme sparks which glaze the brow of night,
And gladding all your friends, as doth the ray
Of that East-starre which wakes the cheerful day.
But the black Map of death and discontent
Behind that Adamantine firmament,
That luckless figure which like Calvary
Stands strew'd and coppy'd out in skuls, is I;
Whose life your absence clouds, and makes my time
Move blindfold in the dark ecliptick line.
Then wonder not if my removed Sun
So low within the Western Tropick run;
My eyes no day in this Horizon see,
Since where You are not all is night to me.
Lastly, the anchor which enfastned lies
Upon a pair of deaths, sadly applies
That Monument of Rest which harbour must
Our Ship-wrackt fortunes in a road of dust.
So then how late soere my joyless life
Be tired out in this affections strife:
Though my tempestuous fancie like the skie
Travail with stormes, and through my watry eie
Sorrows high-going waves spring many a leak;
Though sighs blow loud til my hearts cordage break;
Though Faith, and all my wishes prove untrue,
Yet Death shall fix and anchor Me with You.
'Tis some poor comfort that this mortal scope
Will Period, though never Crown my Hope.


Scheme ABCCDAEEBAFFGGBBHHIJKKBBLLBGEABAMNOODDPPQQRRSTSSBUVV
Poetic Form
Metre 1111110111 11110101 1111110111 1111011001 1111110011 11110111 1111110101 101101111 1111011100 111110101 0101111101 010111011 010101111 11101011 011111111 0101011101 110111101 01001110001 1101111 111011111 010010101 011111111 1111110011 110011001 1011010101 1111110111 0101111101 1111110101 1011110001 01111 1101011100 110110111 1111010111 1100111 110111011 110101011 1111010101 1111111111 10010111 0101111001 1100111101 10111000111 11111111 1101010101 111001101 0111011101 10110111001 1111111101 1101110101 1111010111 1111011101 1100110111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,185
Words 395
Sentences 14
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 52
Lines Amount 52
Letters per line (avg) 33
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 1,733
Words per stanza (avg) 393
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:59 min read
91

Henry King

Henry King was an English poet who served as Bishop of Chichester. more…

All Henry King poems | Henry King Books

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