Analysis of On The Death Of Mr. Viner
Thomas Parnell 1679 (Dublin) – 1718
Is Viner Dead? and shall each Muse become
Silent as Death, and as his Musick Dumb?
Shall he depart without a poet's Praise,
Who oft to Harmony has tun'd their Lays?
Shall he, who knew the Elegance of Sound,
Find no one voice to sing him to the Ground?
musick and poetry are Sister-Arts,
Shew a like Genius, and consenting Hearts:
My Soul with his is secretly ally'd,
And I am forc'd to speak, since viner dy'd.
Oh that my Muse, as once his Notes, could swell!
That I might all his Praises fully tell;
That I might say with how much skill he play'd,
How nimbly four extended Strings survey'd;
How Bow and Fingers, with a noble Strife,
Did raise the vocal fiddle into Life;
How various Sounds, in various Order rang'd,
By unobserv'd Degrees minutely chang'd;
Thro' a vast Space could in Divisions run,
Be all distinct, yet all agree in One:
And how the fleeter Notes could swiftly pass,
And skip alternately from Place to Place;
The Strings could with a sudden Impulse bound,
Speak every Touch, and tremble into Sound.
The liquid Harmony, a tuneful Tide,
Now seem'd to rage, anon wou'd gently glide;
By Turns would ebb and flow, would rise and fall,
Be loudly daring, or be softly small:
While all was blended in one common Name,
Wave push'd on Wave, and all compos'd a Stream.
The diff'rent tones melodiously combin'd,
Temper'd with Art, in sweet Confusion join'd;
The Soft, the Strong, the Clear, the Shrill, the Deep,
Would sometimes soar aloft, and sometimes creep;
While ev'ry Soul upon his Motions hung,
As tho' it were in tuneful Concert strung.
His Touch did strike the Fibres of the Heart,
And a like Trembling secretly impart;
Where various Passions did by Turns succeed,
He made it chearful, and he made it bleed;
Could wind it up into a glowing Fire,
Then shift the Scene, and teach it to expire.
Oft have I seen him on a Publick Stage,
Alone the gaping Multitude engage;
The Eyes and Ears of each Spectator draw,
Command their Thoughts, and give their Passions Law;
While other Musick in Oblivion drown'd,
Seem'd a dead Pulse, or a neglected Sound.
Alas! he's gone, our Great Apollo's dead,
And all that's sweet and tuneful with him fled.
hibernia—with one universal Cry,
Laments its Loss, and speaks his elegy.
Farewel, thou Author of refin'd Delight,
Too little known, too soon remov'd from Sight;
Those Fingers, which such Pleasure did convey,
Must now become to stupid Worms a prey:
Thy grateful fiddle with for ever stand
A silent Mourner for its master's Hand:
Thy art is only to be match'd Above,
Where Musick reigns, and in that Musick Love:
Where Thou wilt with the happy chorus join,
And quickly Thy melodious soul refine
To the exalted pitch of Harmony Divine.
Scheme | AABBCCDDCEFFGGHHIIJJXXCC EEKKXX XXLLMMNNOOXX PPQQCC RRXXSSTTUUVVXWW |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101011101 1011011101 1101010101 1111001111 1111010011 1111111101 1001001101 1011000101 111111001 0111111101 1111111111 1111110101 1111111111 1101010101 1101010101 1101010011 110010100101 11011001 1011100101 1101110101 010111101 0110001111 0111010101 11001010011 0101000101 111111101 1111011101 1101011101 1111001101 1111010101 0111101 1011010101 0101010101 1011010011 111011101 1110010101 111101101 00110010001 11001011101 111101111 11110101010 1101011101 111111011 010101001 0101111001 0111011101 11010001001 1011100101 01111010101 0111010111 100110101 0111011100 111010101 1101110111 1101110101 1101110101 1101011101 0101011101 1111011101 1101001101 1111010101 01010100101 100101110001 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 2,631 |
Words | 477 |
Sentences | 16 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 24, 6, 12, 6, 15 |
Lines Amount | 63 |
Letters per line (avg) | 33 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 417 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 95 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:31 min read
- 79 Views
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"On The Death Of Mr. Viner" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 9 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/37046/on-the-death-of-mr.-viner>.
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