Analysis of February

Thomas Chatterton 1752 (Bristol) – 1770 (Holborn)



Begin, my muse, the imitative lay,
Aonian doxies sound the thrumming string;
Attempt no number of the plaintive Gay,
Let me like midnight cats, or Collins sing.
If in the trammels of the doleful line
The bounding hail, or drilling rain descend;
Come, brooding Melancholy, pow'r divine,
And ev'ry unform'd mass of words amend.

Now the rough goat withdraws his curling horns,
And the cold wat'rer twirls his circling mop:
Swift sudden anguish darts thro' alt'ring corns,
And the spruce mercer trembles in his shop.

Now infant authors, madd'ning for renown,
Extend the plume, and him about the stage,
Procure a benefit, amuse the town,
And proudly glitter in a title page.

Now, wrapt in ninefold fur, his squeamish grace
Defies the fury of the howling storm;
And whilst the tempest whistles round his face,
Exults to find his mantled carcase warm.

Now rumbling coaches furious drive along,
Full of the majesty of city dames,
Whose jewels sparkling in the gaudy throng,
Raise strange emotions and invidious flames.

Now Merit, happy in the calm of place,
To mortals as a highlander appears,
And conscious of the excellence of lace,
With spreading frogs and gleaming spangles glares.

Whilst Envy, on a tripod seated nigh,
In form a shoe-boy, daubs the valu'd fruit,
And darting lightnings from his vengeful eye,
Raves about Wilkes, and politics, and Bute.

Now Barry, taller than a grenadier,
Dwindles into a stripling of eighteen;
Or sabled in Othello breaks the ear,
Exerts his voice, and totters to the scene.

Now Foote, a looking-glass for all mankind,
Applies his wax to personal defects;
But leaves untouch'd the image of the mind,
His art no mental quality reflects.

Now Drury's potent kind extorts applause,
And pit, box, gallery, echo, "how divine!"
Whilst vers'd in all the drama's mystic laws,
His graceful action saves the wooden line.

Now-- but what further can the muses sing?
Now dropping particles of water fall;
Now vapours riding on the north wind's wing,
With transitory darkness shadow all.

Alas! how joyless the descriptive theme,
When sorrow on the writer's quiet preys
And like a mouse in Cheshire cheese supreme,
Devours the substance of the less'ning bays.

Come, February, lend thy darkest sky.
There teach the winter'd muse with clouds to soar;
Come, February, lift the number high;
Let the sharp strain like wind thro' alleys roar.

Ye channels, wand'ring thro' the spacious street,
In hollow murmurs roll the dirt along,
With inundations wet the sabled feet,
Whilst gouts responsive, join th'elegiac song.

Ye damsels fair, whose silver voices shrill,
Sound thro' meand'ring folds of Echo's horn;
Let the sweet cry of liberty be still,
No more let smoking cakes awake the morn.

O, Winter! Put away the snowy pride;
O, Spring! Neglect the cowslip and the bell;
O, Summer! Throw thy pears and plums aside;
O, Autumn! Bid the grape with poison swell.

The pension'd muse of Johnson is no more!
Drown'd in a butt of wine his genius lies;
Earth! Ocean! Heav'n! The wond'rous loss deplore,
The dregs of nature with her glory dies.

What iron Stoic can suppress the tear;
What sour reviewer read with vacant eye!
What bard but decks his literary bier!
Alas! I cannot sing-- I howl-- I cry--


Scheme ABABCDCD EFEF GHGH IJIJ KLKL IXIX MNMN OPOP QRQR SCSC BTBT UVUV MOMO WKWK XYXY Z1 Z1 O2 O2 OMOM
Poetic Form
Metre 011101001 111011 0111010101 111111101 100110101 0101110101 1101001101 010111101 1011011101 0011111001 1101011111 001101011 1101011101 0101010101 0101000101 0101000101 110111101 0101010101 0101010111 01111111 110010100101 1101001101 1101000101 11010001001 1101000111 110101001 0101010011 110101011 110101101 0101110101 0101011101 101101001 11010101 1001010101 110010101 011101101 1101011111 0111110010 1101010101 1111010001 111010101 01110010101 110101101 1101010101 1111010101 1101001101 111010111 11001011 011100101 1101010101 0101010101 01001010111 110011101 1101011111 110010101 1011111101 1101110101 0101010101 10101011 11010111 111110101 11111101 1011110011 1111010101 1101010101 1101010001 1101110101 1101011101 011110111 1001111101 110101101 0111010101 1101010101 11001011101 111111001 0111011111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 3,208
Words 543
Sentences 34
Stanzas 18
Stanza Lengths 8, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 76
Letters per line (avg) 33
Words per line (avg) 7
Letters per stanza (avg) 139
Words per stanza (avg) 30
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:49 min read
144

Thomas Chatterton

Thomas Chatterton was an English poet and forger of pseudo-medieval poetry. He committed suicide, dying of arsenic poisoning. His works and death were much discussed posthumously and had an influence on the Romantic movement. more…

All Thomas Chatterton poems | Thomas Chatterton Books

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