METRE AND RHYTHM.
I t was scarcely possible to explain what the feet in verse are without
assuming the existence of lines, in order to give intelligible examples
of the various feet. But the consideration of the construction of lines
really belongs to this chapter.
A line is composed of a certain number of feet, from two to almost any
number short of ten or so—if indeed we may limit the number exactly, for
there is nothing to prevent a man from writing a line of twenty feet if
he have ingenuity enough to maintain the harmony and beat necessary to
constitute verse. As a rule, we seldom meet with more than eight feet in
a line.
A line may consist of feet of the same description, or of a
combination of various feet. And this combination may be exactly
repeated in the corresponding line or lines, or one or more of the feet
may be replaced by another corresponding in time or quantity. Here is an
instance—
"I knew | by the smoke that so gracefully curled ...
And I said | 'if there's peace to be found in the world.'"
Here the iambic "I kne´w" is resolved into the anapæst, "and I
sa´id,"[10]—or rather (as the measure is anapæstic) the iambic takes the
place of the anapæst.
When only two feet go to a line, it is a dimeter. Three form a
trimeter, four a tetrameter, five a pentameter, six a hexameter, seven a
heptameter, eight an octameter, which, however, is usually resolved into
two tetrameters. If the feet be iambics or trochees, of course the
number of syllables will be double that of the feet—thus a pentameter
will be decasyllabic. When dactyls or anapæsts are used, of course the
number of syllables exceeds the double of the feet. But there is no
necessity for enlarging on this point: I have given enough to explain
terms, with which the student may perhaps meet while reading up the
subject of versification. As he may also meet with the terms
"catalectic" and "acatalectic," it may be as well to give a brief
explanation of them also. A catalectic line is one in which the last
foot is not completed. An acatalectic is one in which the line and the
foot terminate together. An extract from the "Bridge of Sighs," a
dactylic poem, will illustrate this.
"Make no deep | scrutiny
Into her | mutiny;
Rash and un|dutiful,
Past all dis|honour;
Death has left | on her
Only the | beautiful.
Take her up | tenderly,
Lift her with | care;
Fashion'd so | slenderly
Young and so | fair."
Here the fourth and fifth, the eighth and tenth lines are catalectic.
In the first two the last foot needs one syllable, in the others it
requires two. It is scarcely necessary to point out how such variations
improve and invigorate the measure, by checking the gallop of the verse.
We have now seen that the line may be composed of various numbers of
the different feet. The next step to consider is the combination of
lines into stanzas.
Stanzas are formed of two or more lines. Two lines are styled a
couplet, three a triplet, and four a quatrain, while other combinations
owe their titles to those who have used them first or most, as in the
case of the Spenserian stanza.
The reader will see at once that, each of these kinds of stanzas being
constructible of any of the styles of line before enumerated, each style
of line being in its turn constructible of any of the sorts of feet
described in a previous chapter, to make any attempt to give an
exhaustive list of stanzas would be to enter upon an arithmetical
progression alarming to think of.[11] I shall therefore only enumerate a
few, giving, as seems most useful for my purpose, examples of the most
common form of a peculiar stanza, as in the case of the decasyllabic
couplet of Pope, and the nine-line stanza of Spenser, or the least
common, as when, in the quatrain, it appears preferable to give, instead
of the alternate-rhymed octosyllabic tetrameters which have been
repeated _ad nauseam_, such fresh forms as will be found in the extracts
from "The Haunted House," or Browning's "Pretty Woman."
EXAMPLES.
THE COUPLET OR DISTICH.[12]
Dimeter (four-syllabled).
"Here, here I live
And somewhat give."
—_Herrick_, _Hesperides_.
Tetrameter (eight-syllabled).
"His tawny beard was th' equal grace
Both of his wisdom and his face."
—_Butler_, _Hudibras_.
Tetrameter (seven-syllabled).
"As it fell upon a day
In the merry month of May."
—_Shakespeare._
Pentameter (ten-syllabled, "Pope's decasyllable").
"Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff remained to pray."
—_Goldsmith_, _Deserted Village_.
Hexameter (twelve-syllabled).
"Doth beat the brooks and ponds for sweet refreshing soil:
That serving not—then proves if he his scent may foil."
—_Drayton_, _Polyolbion_.
Heptameter (fourteen-syllabled).
"Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are;
And glory to our sovereign liege, king Henry of Navarre."
—_Macaulay_, _Battle of Ivry_.
The couplet may also be formed of two lines of irregular length.
"Belovëd, O men's mother, O men's queen!
Arise, appear, be seen."
—_Swinburne_, _Ode to Italy_.
"Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles
Miles on miles."
—_Browning_, _Love among the Ruins_.
"Morning, evening, noon, and night,
'Praise God,' sang Theocrite."
—_Browning_, _The Boy and the Angel_.
"Take the cloak from his face and at first
Let the corpse do its worst."
—_Browning_, _After_.
"Or for a time we'll lie
As robes laid by."
—_Herrick_, _Hesperides_.
"Give me a cell
To dwell."
—_Herrick_, _Hesperides._
Two couplets are at times linked together into a quatrain. More often
they are formed into six-line stanzas, that is a couplet followed by a
line which has its rhyme in another line following the second couplet.
But indeed the combination of stanzas is almost inexhaustible.
TRIPLETS.
Trimeter (six-syllabled).
"And teach me how to sing
Unto the lyric string
My measures ravishing."
—_Herrick_, _Hesperides_.
Tetrameter (seven-syllabled).
"O, thou child of many prayers,
Life hath quicksands, life hath snares,
Care and age come unawares."
—_Longfellow_, _Maidenhood_.
Octameter (fifteen syllabled).
"Was a lady such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red—
On her neck the small face buoyant, like a bell-flower o'er its bed,
O'er the breast's superb abundance where a man might base his head."
—_Browning_, _A Toccata_.
The triplet pure and simple, is not a very common form; it is most
frequently combined with other forms to make longer stanzas. At times
the second line, instead of rhyming with the first or third, finds an
echo in the next triplet—sometimes in the second, but more often in the
first and third lines.
"Make me a face on the window there,
Waiting, as ever mute the while,
My love to pass below in the square.
And let me think that it may beguile
Dreary days, which the dead must spend
Down in their darkness under the aisle."
—_Browning_, _The Statue and the Bust_.
Another species of triplet occurs in the Pope measure
(pentameter-decasyllabic). It is formed by the introduction, after an
ordinary couplet, of a third line, repeating the rhyme and consisting of
eleven syllables and six feet. Dryden, however, and some other writers,
gave an occasional triplet without the extra foot. The Alexandrine,
_i.e._, the six-foot line, ought to close the sense, and conclude with a
full stop.
THE QUATRAIN.
Of this form of stanza the name is legion. Of the most common styles,
the reader's memory will supply numerous examples. I shall merely give a
few of the rarer kinds. The quatrain may consist practically of two
couplets, or of a couplet divided by a couplet, as in Tennyson's "In
Memoriam." But the usual rule is to rhyme the first and third, and
second and fourth. The laxity which leaves the two former unrhymed, is a
practice which cannot be too strongly condemned. Quatrains so formed
should in honesty be written as couplets, but such a condensation would
possibly not suit the views of the mob of magazine-versifiers, who have
inflicted this injury, with many others, upon English versification.
It may be well to note here that the rhyme of the first and third
lines should be as dissimilar as possible in sound to that of the second
and fourth. This is, in fact, a part of the rule which forbids
repetitions of the same vowel-sounds in a line—chief of all, a
repetition of the particular vowel-sound of the rhyme. The rhymes
recurring give a beat which is something like a cæsura, and when
therefore the rhyme-sound occurs elsewhere than at its correct post it
mars the flow. Here follow a few examples of the quatrain. I have not
specified the syllables or feet, as the reader by this time will have
learned to scan for himself; and, owing to the varieties of measure,
such a specification would be cumbrous:—
"The woodlouse dropp'd and roll'd into a ball,
Touch'd by some impulse, occult or mechanic,
And nameless beetles ran along the wall
In universal panic."
—_Hood_, _Haunted House_.
"That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye,
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers."
—_Browning, A Fair Woman_.
"All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame;
All are but ministers of love,
And feed his sacred flame."
—_Coleridge_, _Love_.
"What constitutes a state?
Not high-raised battlement or labour'd mound,
Thick wall, or moated gate,
Nor cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd."
—_Jones_, _Ode_.
"Whither, midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way."
—_Bryant_, _To a Waterfowl_.
"Sweet day, so calm, so cool, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
The dews shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die."
—_Herbert_, _Virtue_.
THE FIVE-LINE STANZA.
I am inclined to think this one of the most musical forms of the
stanza we possess. It is capable of almost endless variety, and the
proportions of rhymes, three and two, seem to be especially conducive to
harmony. It would be curious to go into the question how many popular
poems are in this form. Here are two examples—both of them from
favourite pieces:—
"Go, lovely rose,
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be."
—_Waller_, _To a Rose_.
"Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest;
Like a cloud of fire,
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest."
—_Shelley_, _The Skylark_.
Mr Browning frequently uses this stanza, and with admirable effect.
Although he has been accused of ruggedness by some critics, there is no
modern poet who has a greater acquaintance with the various forms of
verse, or can handle them more ably. The following are examples of his
treatment:—
"Is it your moral of life?
Such a web, simple and subtle,
Weave we on earth here, in impotent strife
Backward and forward each throwing his shuttle—
Death ending all with a knife?"
—_Master Hugues._
"And yonder at foot of the fronting ridge,
That takes the turn to a range beyond,
Is the chapel, reach'd by the one-arch'd bridge,
Where the water is stopp'd in a stagnant pond,
Danced over by the midge."
—_By the Fireside._
"Stand still, true poet that you are!
I know you; let me try and draw you.
Some night you'll fail us; when afar
You rise, remember one man saw you—
Knew you—and named a star,"
—_Popularity._
"Not a twinkle from the fly,
Not a glimmer from the worm.
When the crickets stopp'd their cry,
When the owls forbore a term,
You heard music—that was I!"
—_A Serenade._
"When the spider to serve his ends,
By a sudden thread,
Arms and legs outspread,
On the table's midst descends—
Comes to find God knows what friends!"
—_Mesmerism._
THE SIX-LINE STANZA.
With the increasing number of lines comes an increasing number of
combinations of rhymes. There is the combination of three couplets, and
there is that of two couplets, with another pair of rhymes one line
after the first, the other after the second couplet. Then there is a
quatrain of alternate rhymes, and a final couplet—to mention no others.
"Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done.
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages—
Golden lads and girls all must
Like chimney-sweepers come to dust."
—_Shakespeare._
"One day, it matters not to know
How many hundred years ago,
A Spaniard stopt at a posada door;
The landlord came to welcome him and chat
Of this and that,
For he had seen the traveller here before."
—_Southey_, _St Romuald_.
"And wash'd by my cosmetic brush,
How Beauty's cheeks began to blush
With locks of auburn stain—
Not Goldsmith's Auburn, nut-brown hair
That made her loveliest of the fair,
Not loveliest of the plain."
—_Hood_, _Progress of Art_.
"Some watch, some call, some see her head emerge
Wherever a brown weed falls through the foam;
Some point to white eruptions of the surge—
But she is vanish'd to her shady home,
Under the deep inscrutable, and there
Weeps in a midnight made of her own hair."
—_Hood_, _Hero and Leander_.
"Ever drifting, drifting, drifting,
On the shifting
Currents of the restless heart—
Till at length in books recorded,
They like hoarded
Household words no more depart."
—_Longfellow_, _Seaweed_.
"Before me rose an avenue
Of tall and sombrous pines;
Abroad their fanlike branches grew,
And where the sunshine darted through,
Spread a vapour, soft and blue,
In long and sloping lines."
—_Longfellow_, _Prelude_.
The following form may be looked upon as Burns's exclusively:—
"Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,—
Thou'st met me in an evil hour,
For I maun crush among the stour
Thy slender stem;
To spare thee now is past my power,
Thou bonnie gem."
—_To a Mountain Daisy._
THE SEVEN-LINE STANZA.
This form is not very common. It may be formed of a quatrain and
triplet; of a quatrain, a line rhyming the last of the quatrain, and a
couplet; of a quatrain, a couplet, and a line rhyming the fourth line.
Or these may be reversed.
THE EIGHT-LINE STANZA.
This is susceptible of endless variety, commencing with two quatrains,
or a six-line stanza and a couplet, or two triplets with a brace of
rhyming lines, one after each triplet.
"Thus lived—thus died she; nevermore on her
Shall sorrow light or shame. She was not made
Through years or moons the inner weight to bear,
Which colder hearts endure till they are laid
By age in earth; her days and pleasures were
Brief but delightful; such as had not staid
Long with her destiny. But she sleeps well
By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell."
—_Byron_, _Don Juan_.
THE NINE-LINE STANZA.
Of this form the most generally used is the Spenserian, or the
following variation of it:—
"A little, sorrowful, deserted thing,
Begot of love and yet no love begetting;
Guiltless of shame, and yet for shame to wring;
And too soon banish'd from a mother's petting
To churlish nature and the wide world's fretting,
For alien pity and unnatural care;
Alas! to see how the cold dew kept wetting
His childish coats, and dabbled all his hair
Like gossamers across his forehead fair."
—_Hood_, _Midsummer Fairies_.
The Spenserian has the same arrangement of the rhymes, but has an
extra foot in the last line. The two last lines of a stanza from "Childe
Harold" will illustrate this:—
"To mingle with the universe and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal."
—_Byron._
The formation of the ten, eleven, twelve, &c., line stanzas is but an
adaptation of those already described. A single fourteen-line stanza of
a certain arrangement of rhyme is a sonnet, but as the sonnet is
scarcely versifiers' work, I will not occupy space by the lengthy
explanation it would require. On the same grounds, I am almost inclined
to omit discussion of blank verse, but will give a brief summary of its
varieties. The ordinary form of blank verse is the decasyllabic in which
Milton's "Paradise Lost" is written—
"Of man's first disobedience and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world and all our woe."
This consists of ten syllables with an accented following an
unaccented syllable. It is preserved from monotony by the varying fall
of the cæsura or pause. It occurs but rarely after the first foot or the
eighth foot, and not often after the third and seventh. Elisions and the
substitution of a trisyllable, equivalent in time for a dissyllable, are
met with, and at times the accent is shifted, when by the change the
sense of the line gains in vigour of expression, as in—
"Once found, which yet unfound, most would have thought
Impossible."
According to scansion "most wo'uld," but by the throwing back of the
accent strengthened and distinguished into "_most_ would have thought."
[In addition to this in the blank verse of the stage, we find
occasionally additional syllables, as—
"Or to take arms against a sea of troub(les)."]
Other forms of blank verse follow:—
1. "If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear,
Like thy own solemn springs,
Thy springs and dying gales."
—_Collins_, _Ode to Evening._
2. "But never could I tune my reed
At morn, or noon, or eve, so sweet,
As when upon the ocean shore
I hail'd thy star-beam mild."
—_Kirke White_, _Shipwrecked Solitary's Song_.
3. "Who at this untimely hour
Wanders o'er the desert sands?
No station is in view,
No palm-grove islanded amidst the waste,—
The mother and her child,
The widow'd mother and the fatherless boy,
They at this untimely hour
Wander o'er the desert sands."[13]
—_Southey_, _Thalaba_.
4. "Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wast not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces."
—_Lamb_.
5. "See how he scorns all human arguments
So that no oar he wants, nor other sail
Than his own wings between so distant shores."[14]
—_Longfellow_, _Translation of Dante_.
6. "Yet dost thou recall
Days departed, half-forgotten,
When in dreamy youth I wander'd
By the Baltic."
—_Longfellow_, _To a Danish Song-Book_.
7. "All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm;
Even the plants and stones,
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe."
—_Longfellow_, _Tegner's Drapa_.
8. "Give me of your bark, O birch-tree!
Of your yellow bark, O birch-tree!
Growing by the rushing river,
Tall and stately in the valley."
—_Longfellow_, _Hiawatha_.
9. "Heard he that cry of pain; and through the hush that succeeded
Whisper'd a gentle voice, in accents tender and saintlike,
'Gabriel, oh, my beloved!' and died away into silence."
—_Longfellow, Evangeline_.
An extremely musical form of blank verse, the trochaic, will be found
in Browning's "One Word More":—
"I shall never in the years remaining,
Paint you pictures, no, nor carve you statues,
Make you music that should all-express me;
So it seems; I stand on my attainment:
This of verse alone one life allows me;
Verse and nothing else have I to give you.
Other heights in other loves, God willing—
All the gifts from all the heights, your own, love!"
This by no means exhausts the varieties of blank verse; but, as I have
already said, blank verse is, on the whole, scarcely to be commended to
the student for practice, because it is, while apparently the easiest,
in reality the most difficult form he could attempt. It is in fact
particularly easy to attain the blankness—but the verse is another
matter. The absence of rhymes necessitates the most perfect melody and
harmony, if the lines are to be anything beyond prose chopped up into
lengths.
There are, I should mention before closing this chapter, many more
styles of stanza than I have named, and many varieties of them. The ode
is of somewhat irregular construction, but like the sonnet it is, I
consider, beyond the scope of those for whom this book is intended, and
it needs not to be discussed on that account.
[Illustration]