Thus a train of reasoning hath insensibly led us to conclusions with

regard to the musical pause, very different from those in the first

section, concerning the separating by an interjected circumstance words

intimately connected. One would conjecture, that where-ever words are

separable by interjecting a circumstance, they should be equally

separable by interjecting a pause. But, upon a more narrow inspection,

the appearance of analogy vanisheth. To make this evident, I need only

premise, that a pause in the sense distinguishes the different members

of a period from each other; that two words of the same member may be

separated by a circumstance, all the three making still but one member;

and therefore that a pause in the sense has no connection with the

separation of words by interjected circumstances. This sets the matter

in a clear light. It is observed above, that the musical pause is

intimately connected with the pause in the sense; so intimately indeed,

that regularly they ought to coincide. As this would be too great a

restraint, a licence is indulged, to place pauses for the sake of the

music where they are not necessary for the sense. But this licence must

be kept within bounds. And a musical pause ought never to be placed

where a pause is excluded by the sense; as, for example, betwixt the

adjective and following substantive which make parts of the same idea,

and still less betwixt a particle and the word which makes it

significant.

Abstracting at present from the peculiarity of modulation arising from

the different pauses, it cannot fail to be observed in general, that

they introduce into our verse no slight degree of variety. Nothing more

fatigues the ear, than a number of uniform lines having all the same

pause, which is extremely remarkable in the French versification. This

imperfection will be discerned by a fine ear even in the shortest

succession, and becomes intolerable in a long poem. Pope excels all the

world in the variety of his modulation, which indeed is not less perfect

of its kind than that of Virgil.

From what is now said, there ought to be one exception. Uniformity in

the members of a thought, demands equal uniformity in the members of the

period which expresses that thought. When therefore resembling objects

or things are expressed in a plurality of verse-lines, these lines in

their structure ought to be as uniform as possible, and the pauses in

particular ought all of them to have the same place. Take the following

examples.

By foreign hands || thy dying eyes were clos’d,

By foreign hands || thy decent limbs compos’d,

By foreign hands || thy humble grave adorn’d.

Again,

Bright as the sun, || her eyes the gazers strike,

And, like the sun, || they shine on all alike.

Speaking of Nature, or the God of Nature:

Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze,

Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees,

Lives through all life || extends through all extent,

Spreads undivided || operates unspent.

Pauses are like to dwell longer upon hand than I imagined; for the

subject is not yet exhausted. It is laid down above, that English heroic

verse, considering melody only, admits no more than four capital pauses;

and that the capital pause of every line is determined by the sense to

be after the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, or seventh syllable. And that

this doctrine holds true so far as melody alone is concerned, every good

ear will bear testimony. At the same time, examples are not unfrequent,

in Milton especially, of the capital pause being after the first, the

second, or the third syllable. And that this licence may be taken, even

gracefully, when it adds vigour to the expression, I readily admit. So

far the sound may be justly sacrificed to the sense or expression. That

this licence may be successfully taken, will be clear from the

following example. Pope, in his translation of Homer, describes a rock

broke off from a mountain, and hurling to the plain, in the following

words.

From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;

At every shock the crackling wood resounds;

Still gath’ring force, it smokes; and urg’d amain,

Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:

There stops || So Hector. Their whole force he prov’d,

Resistless when he rag’d; and when he stopt, unmov’d.

In the penult line the proper place of the musical pause is at the end

of the fifth syllable; but it enlivens the expression by its coincidence

with that of the sense at the end of the second syllable. The stopping

short before the usual pause in the melody, aids the impression that is

made by the description of the stone’s stopping short. And what is lost

to the melody by this artifice, is more than compensated by the force

that is added to the description. Milton makes a happy use of this

licence; witness the following examples from his _Paradise Lost_.

---- Thus with the year

Seasons return, but not to me returns

Day || or the sweet approach of even or morn.

Celestial voices to the midnight-air

Sole || or responsive each to others note.

And over them triumphant Death his dart

Shook || but delay’d to strike.

---- And wild uproar

Stood rul’d || stood vast infinitude confin’d.

---- And hard’ning in his strength

Glories || for never since created man

Met such embodied force.

From his slack hand the garland wreath’d for Eve

Down drop’d || and all the faded roses shed.

Of unessential night, receives him next,

Wide gaping || and with utter loss of being

Threatens him, _&c._

----For now the thought

Both of lost happiness and lasting pain

Torments him || round he throws his baleful eyes, _&c._

If we consider the foregoing passages with respect to melody singly, the

pauses are undoubtedly out of their proper place. But being united with

those of the sense, they inforce the expression and enliven it greatly.

And the beauty of expression is communicated to the sound, which, by a

natural deception, makes even the melody appear more perfect than if the

musical pauses were regular.

* * * * *

To explain the rules of accenting, two general observations must be

premised. The first is, That accents have a double effect. They

contribute to the melody, by giving it air and spirit: they contribute

not less to the sense, by distinguishing important words from others.

These two effects ought never to be separated. If a musical accent be

put where the sense rejects it, we feel a discordance betwixt the

thought and the melody. An accent, for example, placed on a word that

makes no figure, has the effect to burlesk it, by giving it an unnatural

elevation. The injury thus done to the sense, is communicated to the

melody by the intimacy of connection, and both seem to be wounded. This

rule is applicable in a peculiar manner to particles. It is indeed

ridiculous to put an emphasis on a word which of itself has no meaning,

and like cement serves only to unite words significant. The other

general observation is, That a word of whatever number of syllables, is

not accented upon more than one of them. Nor is this an arbitrary

practice. The object represented by the word, is set in its best light

by a single accent: reiterated accents on different syllables in

succession, make not the emphasis stronger; but have an air, as if the

sound only of the accented syllables were regarded, and not the sense of

the word.

Keeping in view the foregoing observations, the doctrine of accenting

English heroic verse, is extremely simple. In the first place, accenting

is confined to the long syllables; for the melody admits not an accent

upon any short syllable. In the next place, as the melody is inriched in

proportion to the number of accents, every word that has a long syllable

ought to be accented, unless where the accent is rejected by the sense:

a word, as observed, that makes no figure by its signification, cannot

bear an accent. According to this rule, a line may admit five accents; a

case by no means rare.

But supposing every long syllable to be accented, there is constantly,

in every line, one accent which makes a greater figure than the rest.

This capital accent is that which precedes the capital pause. Hence it

is distinguishable into two kinds; one that is immediately succeeded by

the pause, and one that is divided from the pause by a short syllable.

The former belongs to lines of the first and third order: the latter to

those of the second and fourth. Examples of the first kind.

Smooth flow the wâves || the zephyrs gently play,

Belinda smîl’d || and all the world was gay.

He rais’d his azure wând || and thus begun

Examples of the second.

There lay three gârters || half a pair of gloves;

And all the trôphies || of his former loves.

Our humble prôvince || is to tend the fair,

Not a less plêasing || though less glorious care.

And hew triumphal ârches || to the ground

These accents make different impressions on the mind, which will be the

subject of a following speculation. In the mean time, it may be safely

pronounced a capital defect in the composition of verse, to put a low

word, incapable of an accent, in the place where this accent should be.

This bars the accent altogether; and I know no other fault more

subversive of the melody, if it be not that of barring a pause

altogether. I may add affirmatively, that it is a capital beauty in the

composition of verse, to have the most important word of the sentence,

so placed as that this capital accent may be laid upon it. No single

circumstance contributes more to the energy of verse, than to have this

accent on a word, that, by the importance of its meaning, is intitled to

a peculiar emphasis. To show the bad effect of excluding the capital

accent, I refer the reader to some instances given above, p. ooo, where

particles are separated by a pause from the capital words that make them

significant, and which particles ought, for the sake of the melody, to

be accented, were they capable of an accent. Add to these the following

instances from the Essay on Criticism.

Oft, leaving what || is natural and fit,

_line 448._

Not yet purg’d off, || of spleen and sour disdain

_l. 528._

No pardon vile || obscenity should find

_l. 531._

When love was all || an easy monarch’s care

_l. 537._

For ’tis but half || a judge’s talk, to know

_l. 562._

’Tis not enough, || taste, judgement, learning, join

_l. 563._

That only makes || superior sense belov’d

_l. 578._

Whose right it is, || uncensur’d, to be dull

_l. 590._

’Tis best sometimes || your censure to restrain

_l. 597._

When this fault is at the end of the line that closes a couplet, it

leaves not the least trace of melody:

But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,

The strong connections, nice dependencies

In a line expressive of what is humble or dejected, it improves the

resemblance betwixt the sound and sense, to exclude the capital accent.

This, to my taste, is a beauty in the following lines.

In thêse deep sôlitudes || and aŵful cells

The pôor inhâbitant || behôlds in vain

To conclude this article, the accents are not, like the syllables,

confined to a certain number. Some lines have no fewer than five, and

there are lines that admit not above one. This variety, as we have seen,

depends entirely on the different powers of the component words.

Particles, even where they are long by position, cannot be accented; and

polysyllables, whatever space they occupy, admit but one accent.

Polysyllables have another defect, that they generally exclude the full

pause. I have shown above, that few polysyllables can find place in the

construction of English verse. Here are reasons for excluding them,

could they find place.

* * * * *

I am now prepared to fulfil a promise concerning the four sorts of lines

that enter into English heroic verse. That these have, each of them, a

peculiar melody distinguishable by a good ear, I ventured to suggest,

and promised to account for: and though this subject is extremely

delicate, I am not without hopes of making good my engagement. First,

however, like a wary general, I take all advantages the ground will

permit. I do not aver, that this peculiarity of modulation is in every

instance perceptible. Far from it. The impression made by a period,

whether it be verse or prose, is occasioned chiefly by the thought, and

in an inferior degree by the words; and these articles are so intimately

united with the melody, that they have each of them a strong influence

upon the others. With respect to the melody in particular, instances are

without number, of melody, in itself poor and weak, passing for rich and

spirited where it is supported by the thought and expression. I am

therefore intitled to insist, that this experiment be tried upon lines

of equal rank. And to avoid the perplexity of various cases, I must also

insist, that the lines chosen for a trial be regularly accented before

the pause: for upon a matter abundantly refined in itself, I would not

willingly be imbarrassed with faulty and irregular lines. These

preliminaries being adjusted, I begin with some general observations,

that will save repeating the same thing over and over upon each

particular case. And, first, an accent succeeded by a pause, makes

sensibly a deeper impression than where the voice goes on without a

stop: to make an impression requires time; and there is no time where

there is no pause. The fact is so certain, that in running over a few

lines, there is scarce an ear so dull as not readily to distinguish from

others, that particular accent which immediately precedes the full

pause. In the next place, the elevation of an accenting tone, produceth

in the mind a similar elevation, which is continued during the pause.

Every circumstance is different where the pause is separated from the

accent by a short syllable. The impression made by the accent is more

slight when there is no stop; and the elevation of the accent is gone in

a moment by the falling of the voice in pronouncing the short syllable

that follows. The pause also is sensibly affected by the position of the

accent. In lines of the first and third order, the close conjunction of

the accent and pause, occasions a sudden stop without preparation, which

rouses the mind, and bestows on the melody a spirited air. When, on the

other hand, the pause is separated from the accent by a short syllable,

which always happens in lines of the second and fourth order, the pause

is soft and gentle. This short unaccented syllable succeeding one that

is accented, must of course be pronounced with a falling voice, which

naturally prepares for a pause. The mind falls gently from the accented

syllable, and slides into rest as it were insensibly. Further, the lines

themselves, derive different powers from the position of the pause. A

pause after the fourth syllable divides the line into two unequal

portions, of which the largest comes last. This circumstance resolving

the line into an ascending series, makes an impression in pronouncing

like that of mounting upward. And to this impression contributes the

redoubled effort in pronouncing the largest portion, which is last in

order. The mind has a different feeling when the pause succeeds the

fifth syllable. The line being divided into two equal parts by this

pause, these parts, pronounced with equal effort, are agreeable by their

uniformity. A line divided by a pause after the sixth syllable, makes an

impression opposite to that first mentioned. Being divided into two

unequal portions, of which the shortest is last in order, it appears

like a slow descending series; and the second portion being pronounced

with less effort than the first, the diminished effort prepares the mind

for rest. And this preparation for rest is still more sensibly felt

where the pause is after the seventh syllable, as in lines of the fourth

order.

No person can be at a loss in applying these observations. A line of the

first order is of all the most spirited and lively. To produce this

effect, several of the circumstances above mentioned concur. The accent,

being followed instantly by a pause, makes an illustrious figure: the

elevated tone of the accent elevates the mind: the mind is supported in

its elevation by the sudden unprepared pause which rouses and animates:

and the line itself, representing by its unequal division an ascending

series, carries the mind still higher, making an impression similar to

that of mounting upward. The second order has a modulation sensibly

sweet, soft, and flowing. The accent is not so sprightly as in the

former, because a short syllable intervenes betwixt it and the pause:

its elevation, by the same means, vanisheth instantaneously: the mind,

by a falling voice, is gently prepared for a stop: and the pleasure of

uniformity from the division of the line into two equal parts, is calm

and sweet. The third order has a modulation not so easily expressed in

words. It in part resembles the first order, by the liveliness of an

accent succeeded instantly by a full pause. But then the elevation

occasioned by this circumstance, is balanced in some degree by the

remitted effort in pronouncing the second portion, which remitted effort

has a tendency to rest. Another circumstance distinguisheth it

remarkably. Its capital accent comes late, being placed on the sixth

syllable; and this circumstance bestows on it an air of gravity and

solemnity. The last order resembles the second in the mildness of its

accent and softness of its pause. It is still more solemn than the

third, by the lateness of its capital accent. It also possesses in a

higher degree than the third, the tendency to rest; and by that

circumstance is of all the best qualified for closing a period in the

completest manner.

But these are not all the distinguishing characters of the different

orders. Each order also, by means of its final accent and pause, makes a

peculiar impression; so peculiar as to produce a melody clearly

distinguishable from that of the others. This peculiarity is occasioned

by the division which the capital pause makes in a line. By an unequal

division in the first order, the mind has an impression of ascending;

and is left at the close in the highest elevation, which is display’d on

the concluding syllable. By this means, a strong emphasis is naturally

laid upon the concluding syllable, whether by raising the voice to a

sharper tone, or by expressing the word in a fuller tone. This order

accordingly is of all the least proper for concluding a period, where a

cadence is proper, and not an accent. In the second order, the final

accent makes not so capital a figure. There is nothing singular in its

being marked by a pause, for this is common to all the orders; and this

order, being destitute of the impression of ascent, cannot rival the

first order in the elevation of its accent, nor consequently in the

dignity of its pause; for these always have a mutual influence. This

order, however, with respect to its close, maintains a superiority over

the third and fourth orders. In these the close is more humble, being

brought down by the impression of descent, and by the remitted effort in

pronouncing; considerably in the third order, and still more

considerably in the last. According to this description, the concluding

accents and pauses of the four orders being reduced to a scale, will

form a descending series probably in an arithmetical progression.

After what is said, will it be thought refining too much to suggest,

that the different orders are qualified for different purposes, and that

a poet of genius will be naturally led to make a choice accordingly? I

cannot think this altogether chimerical. It appears to me, that the

first order is proper for a sentiment that is bold, lively, or

impetuous; that the third order is proper for subjects grave, solemn, or

lofty; the second for what is tender, delicate, or melancholy, and in

general for all the sympathetic emotions; and the last for subjects of

the same kind, when tempered with any degree of solemnity. I do not

contend, that any one order is fitted for no other talk, than that

assigned it. At that rate, no sort of modulation would be left for

accompanying ordinary thoughts, that have nothing peculiar in them. I

only venture to suggest, and I do it with diffidence, that one order is

peculiarly adapted to certain subjects, and better qualified than the

others for expressing such subjects. The best way to judge is by

experiment; and to avoid the imputation of a partial search, I shall

confine my instances to a single poem, beginning with the first order.

On her white breast, a sparkling cross she wore,

Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.

Her lively looks, a sprightly mind disclose,

Quick as her eyes, and as unfix’d as those:

Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;

Oft she rejects, but never once offends.

Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,

And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.

Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,

Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:

If to her share some female errors fall,

Look on her face, and you’ll forget ’em all.

_Rape of the Lock._

In accounting for the remarkable liveliness of this passage, it will be

acknowledged by every one who has an ear, that the modulation must come

in for a share. The lines, all of them, are of the first order; a very

unusual circumstance in the author of this poem, so eminent for variety

in his versification. Who can doubt, that, in this passage, he has been

led by delicacy of taste to employ the first order preferably to the

others?

Second order.

Our humbler province is to tend the fair,

Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care;

To save the powder from too rude a gale,

Nor let th’ imprison’d essences exhale;

To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow’rs;

To steal from rainbows ere they drop their show’rs, _&c._

Again,

Oh, thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,

Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.

Sudden, these honours shall be snatch’d away,

And curs’d for ever this victorious day.

Third order.

To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note,

We trust th’important charge, the petticoat.

Again,

Oh say what stranger cause, yet unexplor’d,

Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?

A plurality of lines of the fourth order, would not have a good effect

in succession; because, by a remarkable tendency to rest, its proper

office is to close a period. The reader, therefore, must be satisfied

with instances where this order is mixed with others.

Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav’n are cast,

When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last.

Again,

Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,

And hew triumphal arches to the ground.

Again,

She sees, and trembles at th’ approaching ill,

Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille.

Again,

With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,

He first the snuff-box open’d, then the case.

And this suggests another experiment, which is, to set the different

orders more directly in opposition, by giving examples where they are

mixed in the same passage.

First and second orders.

Sol through white curtains shot a tim’rous ray,

And ope’d those eyes that must eclipse the day.

Again,

Not youthful kings in battle seiz’d alive,

Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,

Not ardent lovers robb’d of all their bliss,

Not ancient ladies when refus’d a kiss,

Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,

Not Cynthia when her manteau’s pinn’d awry,

E’er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,

As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish’d hair.

First and third.

Think what an equipage thou hast in air,

And view with scorn two pages and a chair.

Again,

What guards the purity of melting maids,

In courtly balls, and midnight-masquerades,

Safe from the treach’rous friend, the daring spark,

The glance by day, the whisper in the dark?

Again,

With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,

And breathes three am’rous sighs to raise the fire;

Then prostrate falls, and begs, with ardent eyes,

Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize.

Again,

Jove’s thunder roars, heav’n trembles all around,

Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound,

Earth shakes her nodding tow’rs, the ground gives way,

And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

Second and third.

Sunk in Thalestris’ arms, the nymph he found,

Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound.

Again,

On her heav’d bosom hung her drooping head,

Which with a sigh she rais’d; and thus she said.

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