Analysis of Song I



Lordly gallants! tell me this
(Though my safe content you weigh not),
In your greatness, what one bliss
Have you gained, that I enjoy not?
You have honours, you have wealth;
I have peace, and I have health:
All the day I merry make,
And at night no care I take.

Bound to none my fortunes be,
This or that man's fall I fear not;
Him I love that loveth me,
For the rest a pin I care not.
You are sad when others chaff,
And grow merry as they laugh;
I that hate it, and am free,
Laugh and weep as pleaseth me.

You may boast of favours shown,
Where your service is applied:
But my pleasures are mine own,
And to no man's humour tied.
You oft flatter, sooth, and feign;
I such baseness do disdain;
And to none be slave I would,
Though my fetters might be gold.

By great titles, some believe,
Highest honours are attained;
And yet kings have power to give
To their fools, what these have gained.
Where they favour there they may
All their names of honour lay;
But I look not raised to be,
'Till mine own wing carry me.

Seek to raise your titles higher;
They are toys not worth my sorrow;
Those that we to-day admire,
Prove the age's scorn to-morrow.
Take your honours; let me find
Virtue in a free born mind--
This, the greatest kings that be
Cannot give, nor take from me.

Though I vainly do not vaunt
Large demesnes, to feed my pleasure;
I have favours where you want,
That would buy respect with treasure.
You have lands lie here and there,
But my wealth is everywhere;
And this addeth to my store--
Fortune cannot make me poor.

Say you purchase with your pelf
Some respect, where you importune;
Those may love me for myself,
That regard you for your fortune.
Rich or born of high degree,
Fools as well as you may be;
But that peace in which I live
No descent nor wealth can give.

If you boast that you may gain
The respect of high-born beauties;
Know I never wooed in vain,
Nor preferrèd scornèd duties.
She I love hath all delight,
Rosy-red with lily-white,
And whoe'er your mistress be,
Flesh and blood as good as she.

Note of me was never took,
For my woman-like perfections;
But so like a man I look,
It hath gained me best affections.
For my love as many showers
Have been wept as have for yours:
And yet none doth me condemn
For abuse, or scorning them.

Though of dainties you have store,
To delight a choicer palate,
Yet your taste is pleased no more
Than is mine in one poor sallet.
You to please your senses feed
But I eat good blood to breed;
And am most delighted then
When I spend it like a man.

Though you lord it over me,
You in vain thereof have braved;
For those lusts my servants be
Whereunto your minds are slaved.
To yourselves you wise appear,
But, alas! deceived you are;
You do foolish me esteem,
And are that which I do seem.

When your faults I open lay,
You are moved, and mad with vexing;
But you ne'er could do or say
Aught to drive me to perplexing.
Therefore, my despisèd power
Greater is, by far, than your.
And, whate'er you think of me,
In your minds you poorer be.

You are pleasèd, more or less,
As men well or ill report you;
And show discontentedness,
When the times forbear to court you.
That in which my pleasures be,
No man can divide from me;
And my care it adds not to,
Whatso others say or do.

Be not proud, because you view
You by thousands are attended;
For, alas! it is not you,
But your fortune that's befriended.
Where I show of love have got,
Such a danger fear I not:
Since they nought can seek of me,
But for love, beloved to be.

When your hearts have everything,
You are pleasantly disposed:
But I can both laugh and sing,
Though my foes have me enclosed.
Yea, when dangers me do hem,
I delight in scorning them,
More than you in your renown,
Or a king can in his crown.

You do bravely domineer,
Whilst the sun upon you shineth:
Yet, if any storm appear,
Basely, then, your mind declineth.
But, or shine, or rain, or blow,
I my resolutions know--
Living, dying, thrall, or free,
At one height my mind shall be.

When in thraldom I have lain,
Me not worth your thought you prized;
But your malice was in vain,
For your favours I despised.
And, howe'er you value me,
I with praise shall thought on be
When the world esteems you not
And your names shall be forgot.

In these t


Scheme ABABCCDD EBEBFFEE GHGHIIXX XJKJLLEE MNXNOOEE BMXMPPQX FGXXEEXK IRIRSSEE TATXXXUU QXQBVVXX EXEBWXXX LYLYMQEE XZXZEEZZ ZXZXBBEE Y1 Y1 UU2 2 WCWCNNEE I3 I3 EEBB E
Poetic Form
Metre 11111 11110111 0110111 11111011 111111 1110111 1011101 0111111 1111101 11111111 111111 10101111 1111101 0110111 1111011 101111 111111 1110101 1110111 011111 1110101 111101 0111111 1110111 1110101 101101 01111011 1111111 111111 111111 1111111 1111101 11111010 11111110 1111101 10101110 111111 1000111 1010111 1011111 1110111 1111110 111111 11101110 1111101 111110 011111 1010111 1110111 101111 111111 10111110 1111101 1111111 1110111 1011111 1111111 00111110 1110101 1111110 1111101 1011101 011101 1011111 1111101 111011 1110111 11111010 11111010 1111111 0111101 101111 111111 10101010 1111111 1110111 1111101 1111111 0110101 1111101 1111101 101111 1111101 11111 1011101 1010111 1110101 0111111 1111101 11101110 1111111 11111010 111110 1011111 0101111 0111101 1111111 11111011 010100 1011111 1011101 1110111 0111111 110111 1110111 11101010 1011111 11101010 1111111 1010111 1111111 1110111 111110 1110001 1111101 1111101 1110111 101011 1110101 1011011 111001 1010111 1110101 11111 1111111 110101 1010111 1111111 101111 1111111 1110101 111101 0101101 1111111 101111 0111101 011
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 4,086
Words 810
Sentences 39
Stanzas 18
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 1
Lines Amount 137
Letters per line (avg) 24
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 180
Words per stanza (avg) 45
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

4:05 min read
88

George Wither

George Wither was an English poet, pamphleteer, and satirist. He was a prolific writer who adopted a deliberate plainness of style; he was several times imprisoned. C. V. Wedgwood wrote "every so often in the barren acres of his verse is a stretch enlivened by real wit and observation, or fired with a sudden intensity of feeling". more…

All George Wither poems | George Wither Books

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