Analysis of Ballad
Jonathan Swift 1667 (Dublin) – 1745 (Ireland)
A WONDERFUL age
Is now on the stage:
I'll sing you a song, if I can,
How modern Whigs,
Dance forty-one jigs,
But God bless our gracious Queen Anne.
The kirk with applause
Is established by laws
As the orthodox church of the nation.
The bishops do own
It's as good as their own.
And this, Sir, is call'd moderation.
It's no riddle now
To let you see how
A church by oppression may speed;
Nor is't banter or jest,
That the kirk faith is best
On the other side of the Tweed.
For no soil can suit
With every fruit,
Even so, Sir, it is with religion;
The best church by far
Is what grows where you are,
Were it Mahomet's ass or his pigeon.
Another strange story
That vexes the Tory,
But sure there's no mystery in it,
That a pension and place
Give communicants grace,
Who design to turn tail the next minute.
For if it be not strange,
That religion should change,
As often as climates and fashions;
Then sure there's no harm,
That one should conform.
To serve their own private occasions.
Another new dance,
Which of late they advance,
Is to cry up the birth of Pretender,
And those that dare own
The queen heir to the crown,
Are traitors, not fit to defend her.
The subject's most loyal
That hates the blood royal,
And they for employments have merit,
Who swear queen and steeple
Were made by the people,
And neither have right to inherit.
The monarchy's fixt,
By making on't mixt,
And by non-resistance o'erthrown;
And preaching obedience
Destroys our allegiance,
And thus the Whigs prop up the throne.
That viceroy is best,
That would take off the test,
And made a sham speech to attempt it;
But being true blue,
When he found 'twould not do,
Swore, damn him, if ever he meant it.
'Tis no news that Tom Double
The nation should bubble,
Nor is't any wonder or riddle,
That a parliament rump
Should play hop, step, and jump,
And dance any jig to his fiddle.
But now, sir, they tell,
How Sacheverell,
By bringing old doctrines in fashion,
Hath, like a damn'd rogue,
Brought religion in vogue,
And so open'd the eyes of the nation.
Then let's pray without spleen,
May God bless the queen,
And her fellow-monarchs the people;
May they prosper and thrive,
Whilst I am alive,
And so may the church with the steeple.
Scheme | AABCCB DDEFFE GGHIIH JJEKKE LLMNNO PPQXXQ RRSFXS TTOTTO HHBUUF IIMVVM TTTWWT XTEXXE YYTZZT |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01001 11101 11101111 1101 11011 111101011 01101 101011 101011010 01011 111111 01111010 11101 11111 01101011 1111011 101111 10101101 11111 11001 1011111010 01111 111111 01111110 010110 11010 111110001 101001 111 1011110110 111111 101011 110110010 11111 11101 111110010 01011 111101 1111011010 01111 011101 110111010 010110 110110 011010110 111010 011010 010111010 011 110111 0110101 0100100 0110010 01011101 11011 111101 010111011 11011 111111 111110111 1111110 010110 1111010110 101001 111101 011011110 11111 11 110110010 11011 101001 0110011010 111011 11101 00101010 111001 11101 011011010 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,137 |
Words | 410 |
Sentences | 17 |
Stanzas | 13 |
Stanza Lengths | 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6 |
Lines Amount | 78 |
Letters per line (avg) | 22 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 131 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 31 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 23, 2023
- 2:07 min read
- 141 Views
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"Ballad" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/24259/ballad>.
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