been all this while in a reverie. Here unexpectedly a sort of
fairy-scene opens, where every object is new and singular. Is there any
truth in the appearance, or is it merely a work of imagination? The
scene seems to be a reality; and if it can bear examination, it must
exalt greatly the melody of English heroic verse. If uniformity prevail,
in the arrangement, in the equality of the lines, and in the resemblance
of the final sounds; variety is still more conspicuous in the pauses and
accents, which are diversified in a surprising manner. The beauty that
results from combined objects, is justly observed to consist in a due
mixture of uniformity and variety[102]. Of this beauty many instances
have already occurred, but none more illustrious than English
versification. However rude it may be by the simplicity of arrangement,
it is highly melodious by its pauses and accents, so as already to rival
the most perfect species known in Greece or Rome. And it is no
disagreeable prospect to find it susceptible of still greater
refinement.
* * * * *
We proceed to blank verse, which hath so many circumstances in common
with rhyme, that what is necessary to be said upon it may be brought
within a narrow compass. With respect to form, it differs not from rhyme
farther than in rejecting the jingle of similar sounds. But let us not
think this difference a trifle, or that we gain nothing by it but the
purifying our verse from a pleasure so childish. In truth, our verse is
extremely cramped by rhyme; and the great advantage of blank verse is,
that, being free from the fetters of rhyme, it is at liberty to attend
the imagination in its boldest flights. Rhyme necessarily divides verse
into couplets: each couplet makes a complete musical period; the parts
of which are divided by pauses, and the whole summed up by a full close
at the end: the modulation begins anew with the next couplet: and in
this manner a composition in rhyme proceeds couplet after couplet. I
have more than once had occasion to observe the influence that sound and
sense have upon each other by their intimate union. If a couplet be a
complete period with regard to the melody, it ought regularly to be so
also with regard to the sense. This, it is true, proves too great a
cramp upon composition; and licences are indulged, as explained above.
These however must be used with discretion, so as to preserve some
degree of uniformity betwixt the sense and the music. There ought never
to be a full close in the sense but at the end of a couplet; and there
ought always to be some pause in the sense at the end of every couplet.
The same period as to sense may be extended through several couplets;
but in this case each couplet ought to contain a distinct member,
distinguished by a pause in the sense as well as in the sound; and the
whole ought to be closed with a complete cadence. Rules such as these,
must confine rhyme within very narrow bounds. A thought of any extent,
cannot be reduced within its compass. The sense must be curtailed and
broken into pieces, to make it square with the curtness of melody: and
it is obvious, that short periods afford no latitude for inversion. I
have examined this point with the greater accuracy, in order to give a
just notion of blank verse; and to show that a slight difference in form
may produce a very great difference in substance. Blank verse has the
same pauses and accents with rhyme; and a pause at the end of every
line, like what concludes the first line of a couplet. In a word, the
rules of melody in blank verse, are the same that obtain with respect
to the first line of a couplet. But luckily, being disengaged from
rhyme, or, in other words, from couplets, there is access to make every
line run into another, precisely as the first line of a couplet may run
into the second. There must be a musical pause at the end of every line;
but it is not necessary that it be accompanied with a pause in the
sense. The sense may be carried on through different lines; till a
period of the utmost extent be completed, by a full close both in the
sense and the sound. There is no restraint, other than that this full
close be at the end of a line. This restraint is necessary in order to
preserve a coincidence betwixt sense and sound; which ought to be aimed
at in general, and is indispensable in the case of a full close, because
it has a striking effect. Hence the aptitude of blank verse for
inversion; and consequently the lustre of its pauses and accents; for
which, as observed above, there is greater scope in inversion, than when
words run in their natural order.
In the second section of this chapter it is shown, that nothing
contributes more than inversion to the force and elevation of language.
The couplets of rhyme confine inversion within narrow limits. Nor would
the elevation of inversion, were there access for it in rhyme, be
extremely concordant with the humbler tone of that sort of verse. It is
universally agreed, that the loftiness of Milton’s style supports
admirably the sublimity of his subject; and it is not less certain, that
the loftiness of his style arises chiefly from inversion. Shakespear
deals little in inversion. But his blank verse, being a sort of measured
prose, is perfectly well adapted to the stage. Laboured inversion is
there extremely improper, because in dialogue it never can appear
natural.
Hitherto I have considered the advantage of laying aside rhyme, with
respect to that superior power of expression which verse acquires
thereby. But this is not the only advantage of blank verse. It has
another not less signal of its kind; and that is, of a more extensive
and more complete melody. Its music is not, like that of rhyme,
confined to a single couplet; but takes in a great compass, so as in
some measure to rival music properly so called. The intervals betwixt
its cadences may be long or short at pleasure; and, by this means, its
modulation, with respect both to richness and variety, is superior far
to that of rhyme; and superior even to that of the Greek and Latin
Hexameter. Of this observation no person can doubt who is acquainted
with the _Paradise Lost_. In that work there are indeed many careless
lines; but at every turn it shines out in the richest melody as well as
in the sublimest sentiments. Take the following specimen.
Now Morn her rosy steps in th’ eastern clime
Advancing, sow’d the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak’d, so custom’d, for his sleep
Was aëry light from pure digestion bred,
And temp’rate vapours bland, which th’ only sound
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora’s fan,
Lightly dispers’d, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on every bough; so much the more
His wonder was to find unwaken’d Eve
With tresses discompos’d, and glowing cheek,
As through unquiet rest: he on his side
Leaning half-rais’d, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamour’d, and beheld
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whisper’d thus. Awake
My fairest, my espous’d, my latest found,
Heav’n’s last best gift, my ever new delight,
Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed,
How Nature paints her colours, how the bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
_Book 1. l. 1_.
Comparing the Latin Hexameter and English heroic rhyme, the former has
obviously the advantage in the following particulars. It is greatly
preferable as to arrangement, by the latitude it admits in placing the
long and short syllables. Secondly, the length of an Hexameter line hath
a majestic air: ours, by its shortness, is indeed more brisk and lively,
but much less fitted for the sublime. And, thirdly, the long
high-sounding words that Hexameter admits, add greatly to its majesty.
To compensate these advantages, English rhyme possesses a greater number
and greater variety both of pauses and of accents. These two sorts of
verse stand indeed pretty much in opposition: in the Hexameter, great
variety of arrangement, none in the pauses or accents: in the English
rhyme, great variety in the pauses and accents, very little in the
arrangement.
In blank verse are united, in a good measure, the several properties of
Latin Hexameter and English rhyme; and it possesses beside many signal
properties of its own. If is not confined, like a Hexameter, by a full
close at the end of every line; nor, like rhyme, by a full close at the
end of every couplet. This form of construction, which admits the lines
to run into each other, gives it a still greater majesty than arises
from the length of a Hexameter line. By the same means, it admits
inversion even beyond the Latin or Greek Hexameter, which suffer some
confinement by the regular closes at the end of every line. In its
music it is illustrious above all. The melody of Hexameter verse, is
circumscribed to a line; and of English rhyme, to a couplet. The melody
of blank verse is under no confinement, but enjoys the utmost privilege
of which the melody of verse is susceptible, and that is to run hand in
hand with the sense. In a word, blank verse is superior to the Hexameter
in many articles; and inferior to it in none, save in the latitude of
arrangement, and in the use of long words.
* * * * *
In the French heroic verse, there are found, on the contrary, all the
defects of the Latin Hexameter and English rhyme, without the beauties
of either. Subjected to the bondage of rhyme, and to the full close at
the end of each couplet, it is further peculiarly disgustful by the
uniformity of its pauses and accents. The line invariably is divided by
the pause into two equal parts, and the accent is invariably placed
before the pause.
Jeune et vaillant herôs || dont la haute sagesse
Ne’st point la fruit tardîf || d’une lente vieillesse.
Here every circumstance contributes to a most tedious uniformity. A
constant return of the same pause and of the same accent, as well as an
equal division of every line; by which the latter part always answers to
the former, and fatigues the ear without intermission or change. I
cannot set this matter in a better light, than by presenting to the
reader a French translation of the following passage of Milton.
Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,
Godlike erect, with native honour clad
In naked majesty seem’d lords of all;
And worthy seem’d, for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shon,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac’d;
Whence true authority in men: though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seem’d;
For contemplation he and valour form’d,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace,
He for God only, she for God in him.
Were the pauses of the sense and sound in this passage, but a little
better assorted, nothing in verse could be more melodious. In general,
the great defect of Milton’s versification, in other respects admirable,
is the want of coincidence betwixt the pauses of the sense and sound.
The translation is in the following words.
Ce lieu délicieux, ce paradis charmant,
Reçoit deux objets son plus bel ornement;
Leur port majestueux, et leur démarche altiere,
Semble leur meriter sur la nature entiere
Ce droit de commander que Dieu leur a donné.
Sur leur auguste front de gloire couronné,
Du souverain du ciel drille la resemblance:
Dans leur simples regards éclatte l’innocence,
L’adorable candeur, l’aimable vérité,
La raison, la sagesse, et la sévérité
Qu’adoucit la prudence, et cet air de droiture
Du visage des rois respectable parure.
Ces deux objets divins n’ont pas les mêmes traits,
Ils paroissent formés, quoique tous deux parfaits;
L’un pour la majesté, la force, et la noblesse;
L’autre pour la douceur, la grace, et la tendresse:
Celui-ci pour Dieu seul, l’autre pour l’homme encor.
Here the sense is fairly translated, the words are of equal power, and
yet how inferior the melody!
I take the liberty to add here a speculation, which, though collateral
only, arises naturally from the subject, and shall be discussed in a few
words. Many attempts have been made to introduce Hexameter verse into
the living languages, but without success. The English language, I am
inclined to believe, is not susceptible of this melody; and my reasons
are these. First, the polysyllables in Latin and Greek are finely
diversified by long and short syllables, a circumstance that qualifies
them for the melody of Hexameter verse. Ours are extremely ill qualified
for this service, because they superabound in short syllables. Secondly,
the bulk of our monosyllables are arbitrary with regard to length, which
is an unlucky circumstance in Hexameter. Custom, as observed above, may
render familiar a long or short pronunciation of the same word: but the
mind wavering betwixt the two sounds, cannot be so much arrested with
either, as with a word that hath always the same sound; and for that
reason, arbitrary sounds are ill fitted for a melody which is chiefly
supported by quantity. In Latin and Greek Hexameter, invariable sounds
direct and ascertain the melody: English Hexameter would be destitute of
melody, unless by artful pronunciation; because of necessity the bulk of
its sounds must be arbitrary. The pronunciation is easy in a simple
movement of alternate short and long syllables; but would be perplexing
and unpleasant in the diversified movement of Hexameter verse.
* * * * *
Rhyme makes so great a figure in modern poetry, as to deserve a solemn
trial. I have for that reason reserved it to be examined with some
deliberation; in order to discover, if possible, its peculiar beauties,
and the degree of merit it is intitled to. The first view of this
subject leads naturally to the following reflection, “That rhyme having
no relation to sentiment, nor any effect upon the ear other than a mere
jingle, ought to be banished all compositions of any dignity, as
affording but a trifling and childish pleasure.” It will also be
observed, “That a jingle of words hath in some measure a ludicrous
effect; witness the celebrated poem of _Hudibras_, the double rhymes of
which contribute no small share to its drollery; that this effect would
be equally remarkable in a serious work, were it not obscured by the
nature of the subject; that having however a constant tendency to give a
ludicrous air to the composition, it requires more than ordinary fire to
support the dignity of the sentiments against such an undermining
antagonist[103].”
These arguments are specious, and have undoubtedly some weight. Yet, on
the other hand, it ought to be considered, that rhyme, in later times,
has become universal among men as well as children; and that to give it
a currency, it must have some foundation in human nature. In fact, it
has been successfully employ’d by poets of genius, in their serious and
grave compositions, as well as in those which are more light and airy.
Here, in weighing authority against argument, the balance seems to hang
pretty even; and therefore, to come at any thing decisive, we must
pierce a little deeper.
Music has great power over the soul; and may be successfully employ’d to
inflame or sooth our passions, if not actually to raise them. A single
sound, however sweet, is not music; but a single sound repeated after
proper intervals, may have an effect upon the mind, by rousing the
attention and keeping the hearer awake. A variety of similar sounds,
succeeding each other after regular intervals, must have a still
stronger effect. This is applicable to rhyme, which consists in the
connection that two verse-lines have by closing with two words similar
in sound. And considering deliberately the effect that this may have; we
find, that it rouses the attention, and produceth an emotion moderately
gay without dignity or elevation. Like the murmurings of a brook gliding
through pebbles, it calms the mind when perturbed, and gently raises it
when sunk. These effects are scarce perceived when the whole poem is in
rhyme; but are extremely remarkable by contrast, in the couplets which
close the several acts of our later tragedies. The tone of the mind is
sensibly varied by them, from anguish, distress, or melancholy, to some
degree of ease and alacrity. For the truth of this observation, I appeal
to the speech of Jane Shore in the fourth act, when her doom was
pronounced by Glo’ster; to the speech of Lady Jane Gray at the end of
the first act; and to that of Calista, in the _Fair Penitent_, when she
leaves the stage, about the middle of the third act. The speech of
Alicia, at the close of the fourth act of _Jane Shore_, puts the matter
beyond doubt. In a scene of deep distress, the rhymes which finish the
act, produce a certain gaiety and chearfulness, far from according with
the tone of the passion.
_Alicia_. For ever? Oh! For ever!
Oh! who can bear to be a wretch for ever!
My rival too! his last thoughts hung on her:
And, as he parted, left a blessing for her.
Shall she be bless’d, and I be curs’d, for ever!
No; since her fatal beauty was the cause
Of all my suff’rings, let her share my pains;
Let her, like me, of ev’ry joy forlorn,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born:
Like me to deserts and to darkness run,
Abhor the day and curse the golden sun;
Cast ev’ry good and ev’ry hope behind;
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind:
Like me with cries distracted fill the air,}
Tear her poor bosom, and her frantic hair,}
And prove the torments of the last despair.}
Having described, the best way I can, the impression that rhyme makes on
the mind; I proceed to examine whether rhyme be proper for any subject,
and to what subjects in particular it is best suited. Great and elevated
subjects, which have a powerful influence, claim justly the precedence
in this inquiry. In the chapter of grandeur and sublimity, it is
established, that a grand or sublime object, inspires a warm
enthusiastic emotion disdaining strict regularity and order.
This observation is applicable to the present point. The
moderately-enlivening music of rhyme, gives a tone to the mind very
different from that of grandeur and sublimity. Supposing then an
elevated subject to be expressed in rhyme, what must be the effect? The
intimate union of the music with the subject, produces an intimate union
of their emotions; one inspired by the subject, which tends to elevate
and expand the mind; and one inspired by the music, which, confining the
mind within the narrow limits of regular cadency and similar sound,
tends to prevent all elevation above its own pitch. Emotions so little
concordant, cannot in union have a happy effect.
But it is scarce necessary to reason upon a case, that never did, and
probably never will happen, _viz._ an important subject clothed in
rhyme, and yet supported in its utmost elevation. A happy thought or
warm expression, may at times give a sudden bound upward; but it
requires a genius greater than has hitherto existed, to support a poem
of any length in a tone much more elevated than that of the melody.
Tasso and Ariosto ought not to be made exceptions, and still less
Voltaire. And after all, where the poet has the dead weight of rhyme
constantly to struggle with, how can we expect an uniform elevation in
a high pitch; when such elevation, with all the support it can receive
from language, requires the utmost effort of the human genius?
But now, admitting rhyme to be an unfit dress for grand and lofty
images; it has one advantage however, which is, to raise a low subject
to its own degree of elevation. Addison[104] observes, “That rhyme,
without any other assistance, throws the language off from prose, and
very often makes an indifferent phrase pass unregarded; but where the
verse is not built upon rhymes, there, pomp of sound and energy of
expression are indispensably necessary, to support the style and keep it
from falling into the flatness of prose.” This effect of rhyme is
remarkable in the French verse, which, being simple and natural and in a
good measure unqualified for inversion, readily sinks down to prose
where it is not artificially supported. Rhyme, by rousing the mind,
raises it somewhat above the tone of ordinary language: rhyme therefore
is indispensable in the French tragedy; and may be proper even for their
comedy. Voltaire[105] assigns this very reason for adhering to rhyme in
these compositions. He indeed candidly owns, that even with the support
of rhyme, the tragedies of his country are little better than
conversation-pieces. This shows, that the French language is weak, and
an improper dress for any grand subject. Voltaire was sensible of this
imperfection; and yet Voltaire attempted an epic poem in that language.
The chearing and enlivening power of rhyme, is still more remarkable in
poems of short lines, where the rhymes return upon the ear in a quick
succession. And for that reason, rhyme is perfectly well adapted to gay,
light, and airy subjects. Witness the following.
O the pleasing, pleasing anguish.
When we love, and when we languish!
Wishes rising,
Thoughts surprising,
Pleasure courting,
Charms transporting,
Fancy viewing,
Joys ensuing,
O the pleasing, pleasing anguish.
_Rosamond, act 1. sc. 2._
For this reason, such frequent rhymes are very improper for any severe
or serious passion: the dissonance betwixt the subject and the
modulation, is very sensibly felt. Witness the following.
Ardito ti renda,
T’accenda
Di sdegno
D’un figlio
Il periglio
D’un regno
L’ amor
E’ dolce ad un’ alma
Che aspetta
Vendetta
Il perder la calma
Fra l’ire del cor.
_Metastasio. Artaserse, act 3. sc 3._
Rhyme is not less unfit for deep distress, than for subjects elevated
and lofty; and for that reason has been long disused in the English and
Italian tragedy. In a work, where the subject is serious though not
elevated, it has not a good effect; because the airiness of the
modulation agrees not with the gravity of the subject. The _Essay on
Man_, which treats a subject great and important, would show much better
in blank verse. Sportive love, mirth, gaiety, humour, and ridicule, are
the province of rhyme. The boundaries assigned it by nature, were
extended in barbarous and illiterate ages, and in its usurpations it has
long been protected by custom. But taste in the fine arts, as well as in
morals, improves daily; and makes a progress, slowly indeed, but
uniformly, towards perfection: and there is no reason to doubt, that
rhyme in Britain will in time be forc’d to abandon its unjust conquests,
and to confine itself within its natural limits.
* * * * *
Having thrown out what occurred upon rhyme, I close the section with a
general observation. The melody of articulate sound so powerfully
inchants the mind, as to draw a vail over very gross faults and
imperfections. Of this power a stronger example cannot be given, than
the episode of Aristæus, which closes the fourth book of the _Georgics_.
To renew a stock of bees when the former is lost, Virgil asserts, that
they will be produced in the intrails of a bullock, slain and managed in
a certain manner. This leads him to say, how this strange receipt was
invented; which is as follows. Aristæus having lost his bees by disease
and famine, never dreams of employing the ordinary means for obtaining a
new stock; but, like a froward child, complains heavily of his
misfortune to his mother Cyrene, a water-nymph. She advises him to
consult Proteus, a sea-god, not how he was to obtain a new stock, but
only by what fatality he had lost his former stock; adding, that
violence was necessary, because Proteus would say nothing voluntarily.
Aristæus, satisfied with this advice, though it gave him no prospect of
repairing his loss, proceeds to execution. Proteus is catched sleeping,
bound with cords, and compelled to speak. He declares, that Aristæus was
punished with the loss of his bees, for attempting the chastity of
Euridice, the wife of Orpheus; she having got her death by the sting of
a serpent in flying his embraces. Proteus, whose sullenness ought to
have been converted into wrath by the rough treatment he met with,
becomes on a sudden courteous and communicative. He gives the whole
history of Orpheus’s expedition to hell in order to recover his spouse;
a very entertaining story indeed, but without the least relation to the
affair on hand. Aristæus returning to his mother, is advised to
deprecate by sacrifices the wrath of Orpheus, who was now dead. A
bullock is sacrificed, and out of the intrails spring miraculously a
swarm of bees. How should this have led any mortal to think, that,
without a miracle, the same might be obtained naturally, as is supposed
in the receipt?
_A list of the different FEET, and of their NAMES._
1. PYRRHICHIUS, consists of two short syllables. Examples: _Deus_,
_given_, _cannot_, _hillock_, _running_.
2. SPONDEUS, consists of two long syllables. Ex. _omnes_,
_possess_, _forewarn_, _mankind_, _sometime_.