In verses of four syllables, again, pret_Practical Guide to English Versification With a Compendious Dictionary of Rhymes, an Examination of Classical Measures, and Comments Upon Burlesque and Comic Verse, Vers de Société, and Song-writing

composed, and particularly by John Skelton, a poet of the time of Henry

VIII. Much of what he wrote was sheer doggerel, no doubt being rendered

so partly by the nature of his own talent and disposition, and partly

because his chosen form of verse would scarcely admit of the conveyance

of serious sentiments. Now and then, however, he does contrive to make

his miniature lines interesting, as in the following address to Mistress

Margaret Hussey:—

"Merry Margaret,

As midsummer flower,

Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower;

With solace and gladness,

Much mirth and no madness.

All good and no badness;

So joyously,

So maidenly,

So womanly,

Her demeaning,

In every thing

Far, far passing

That I can indite

Or suffice to write

Of merry Margaret,

As midsummer flower,

Gentle as falcon,

Or hawk of the tower."

It will be observed that Skelton, while taking four syllables for the

basial structure of his lines, uses five occasionally, forming either a

dissyllabic ending, or giving two short syllables for a long one, as in

the lines—

"Gentle as _falcon_,

Or hawk _of the_ tower."

At the same time it will be noticed, that the same number of accents,

or accented syllables, is kept up throughout. This will be found to be

the case with most of our irregular or ballad compositions. They vary as

to the number of syllables, but not of long ones or accents. Scott's

romantic poetry exemplifies the same fact, which is a striking one, and

explains why the melody of ballad-verses is so little affected by their

syllabic irregularities. This law of composition should be specially

noted by young cultivators of the Muses. Dryden has used four syllables

in verses of the choral order. Thus he says—

"To rule by love,

To shed no blood,

May be extoll'd above;

But here below,

Let princes know,

'Tis fatal to be good."

It is obvious that the four-syllabled line is much too curt to allow of

its being habitually used in serious compositions. The same thing may be

said of lines of five syllables. They have been, and can only be,

introduced in minor pieces. And here it may be observed, that the

measure of four syllables, when used gravely, is of simple rhythm,

consisting of a short and long syllable alternately, as in the verses of

Dryden. Skelton, indeed, has confined himself to no rule. The measure of

five syllables necessarily changes its rhythm; and the second and fourth

lines of the subjoined stanza show what may be called the normal form of

the measure:—

"My love was false, but I was firm

From my hour of birth;

Upon my buried body, lie

Lightly, gentle earth."

Long and short syllables (three long or accented) occur here in

alternation, and compose the line in its regular rhythmical shape. Some

other lines of an odd number of syllables, as seven, are for the most

part similarly framed. But, in these respects, variations are often

adopted. For instance, the following five-syllabled verses are

differently constructed:—

"Now, now the mirth comes,

With cake full of plums,

Where bean's the king of the sport here;

Besides, we must know,

The pëa also[25]

Must revel as queen in the court here.

"Begin then to choose

This night, as ye use,

Who shall for the present delight here;

Be king by the lot,

And who shall not

Be Twelfth-day queen for the night here."

The first, second, fourth, and fifth lines here do not present alternate

long and short syllables, as in the former quotation. But, however poets

may indulge in such variations, the alternation of longs and shorts

constitutes the proper rhythmical arrangement in the measure of verse

now under notice. Without three accents, indeed, the five-syllabled

verse becomes but a variety of the four-syllabled, as in Skelton's

pieces.

In the measure of six syllables, we find many beautiful pieces wholly

and continuously composed, grave as well as gay. Drayton, for example,

has a fine "Ode written in the Peaks," of which the ensuing stanza may

give a specimen:—

"This while we are abroad,

Shall we not touch our lyre?

Shall we not sing an ode?

Shall all that holy fire,

In us that strongly glow'd

In this cold air expire?"

In a mixed and lyrical shape, the six-syllabled line is also used finely

by Shakspeare:—

"Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh ho! sing heigh ho!"

It is only as we come to consider verses of some length, that the

subject of Accent and Pause can be clearly illustrated by examples. The

Accent practically consists in either an elevation or a falling of the

voice, on a certain word or syllable of a word, when verse is read; and

that word or syllable is called the seat of the Accent. The term Rhythm

has nothing to do with the sense; whereas the Accent rests mainly on the

sense; and on the sense, moreover, of each individual line. The Pause,

again, was before stated to be a rest or stop, made in pronouncing lines

of verse, and dividing each, as it were, into two parts or hemistiches.

Though, in the six-syllabled measure, the brevity of the lines confines

the reader in a great degree to the ordinary rhythm, which consists of a

short and long syllable alternately, or three unaccented and three

accented, yet, in Drayton's ode, though the lines cannot well exemplify

the Pause, there is a slight variation in the seat of the Accent—

"Shall we not touch our lyre?

Shall we not sing an ode?"

The accent here plainly falls on the initial "shall," giving force to

the interrogation. Shakspeare's "Under the green-wood tree" is similarly

accented.

The seven-syllabled measure is one in which many exquisite poems have

been composed by English writers. Raleigh used it, as did likewise

Shakspeare many incidental passages in his plays, and afterwards Cowley,

Waller, and other bards of note. But it was by Milton that the

seven-syllabled verse was developed, perhaps, to the greatest

perfection, in his immortal "L'Allegro" and "Il Penseroso." In its

systematic shape, this species of verse consists of a long and short

syllable in alternation, the long beginning and closing each line, and

therefore giving four accents. The measure is graceful and easy

exceedingly, though apt to become monotonous in enunciation. To obviate

this effect, Milton, who, either from natural fineness of ear, or from

observation and experience, had acquired a consummate mastery of rhythm,

roughened his lines purposely, sometimes by introducing eight syllables,

and sometimes by varying the seat of the accent. This will partly be

seen in the following brief extracts, which will also show how admirably

he could make the measure the vehicle either of the gay or the grave:—

"Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee

Jest and youthful Jollity,

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,

Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles,

Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,

And love to live in dimple sleek;

Sport that wrinkled care derides,

And Laughter holding both his sides."

So speaks the poet to Euphrosyne; and now he addresses "divinest

Melancholy:"—

"Come, pensive nun, devout and pure,

Sober, steadfast, and demure,

All in a robe of darkest grain,

Flowing with majestic train,

And sable stole of cypress lawn,

Over thy decent shoulders drawn.

Come, but keep thy wonted state,

With even step and musing gait,

And looks commercing with the skies."

It will be observed how finely the dancing effect of the seven-syllabled

verse is brought out, in accordance with the sense, in the first quoted

passage, and with what skill it is repressed in the second, principally

by the use of the graver octosyllabic line. John Keats employed the

measure now under consideration very beautifully in his "Ode to Fancy,"

and gave it variety chiefly by changing the ordinary rhythm. Thus—

"Sit thou by the ingle, when

The sear faggot blazes bright,

Spirit of a winter's night."

The second line, from the position of "sear faggot," is rendered so far

harsh, and tends to prevent the "linked sweetness" from being too long

drawn out, and cloying the ear. Shakspeare—what under the sun escaped

his eye?—had noticed the sing-song proclivities of the seven-syllabled

measure, since he makes Touchstone say, on hearing a sample, "I'll rhyme

you so eight years together; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours

excepted; it is the right butter-woman's rank (trot) to market. For a

taste." And he gives a taste:—

"If a hart do lack a hind,

Let him seek out Rosalind,

If the cat will after kind,

So, be sure, will Rosalind.

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,

Such a nut is Rosalind."

"This is the very false gallop of verses," continueth the sententious

man of motley. He is partly in the right; but the reader has now been

told in what way the great poets, who have employed this measure of

verse effectively, overcame the difficulties attending its perfect

composition. In speaking of long syllables, they were before called

accents; but the reader must guard against confounding these with the

proper single accent, occurring in each line, and connected with the

sense, as well as with the pause. As exemplifying both such accent and

pause in the seven-syllabled line, the following couplets may be cited

from Cowley. The accent is on the third syllable, the pause at third and

fourth, as marked:—

"Fill the bowl—with rosy wine,

Round our temples—roses twine;

Crown'd with roses—we contemn

Gyges' wealthy—diadem."

These pauses must not be deemed arbitrary. The tongue is compelled to

make them in the act of utterance.

The octosyllabic measure has been long the most common, if not the

most popular, of all forms of English verse. It was in use among the

Romancers of the Middle Ages, before England possessed a national

literature, or even a proper national language. "Maister Wace" composed

in this measure his "Roman de Rou;" and it was adopted by many of the

early "Rhyming Chroniclers," and "Metrical Romancers" of Great Britain.

Father Chaucer also, though his noblest efforts were made in what became

the heroic verse (the decasyllabic) of his country, produced many pieces

in the eight-syllabled measure; and Gower used it solely and wholly. So

likewise did Barbour in his famous history of the Bruce, and Wyntoun in

his Metrical Chronicle of Scotland. Since their days to the present, it

has been ever a favourite form of verse among us, and, indeed, has been

at no period more popular than during the current century. At the same

time, poems of the very highest class, epic or didactic, have never been

composed in the octosyllabic measure. It wants weight and dignity to

serve as a fitting vehicle for the loftiest poetic inspirations. It has

been the basis, however, of much of the finest lyrical poetry of

England. It has likewise been splendidly wielded for the purposes of

satire, as witness the burlesque or comic epos of Butler, and the works

of Swift. And, in our own immediate age, it has been magnificently

employed by Scott, Moore, Byron, Campbell, and others, in the

composition of poetical romances.

Byron spoke of the octosyllabic verse as having about it "a fatal

facility"—meaning that, from its simple brevity of construction, it was

too apt to degenerate into doggerel. It is almost needless to give

examples of a species of poetry so well known. Though the lines thereof

are too short to permit of very full variety of cadence or emphasis, yet

these are always marked and traceable, more or less. As graceful and

flowing octosyllables, the following lines from the "Tam o' Shanter" of

Burns have not many equals in our poetry:—

"But pleasures are like poppies spread;

You seize the flower—its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow-falls in the river,

A moment white, then gone for ever;

Or like the Borealis race,

That flit ere you can point their place;

Or like the rainbow's lovely form,

Evanishing amid the storm."

Long and short syllables alternately form the regular rhythm of this

kind of verse; but occasional changes of rhythm and accentuation are

used by all good writers. In the following lines Andrew Marvel

introduces finely such a change:—

"He hangs in shades the orange bright,

_Like golden lamps in a green night_."

The emphasis is sometimes placed on the first syllable, as in the

subjoined:—

"Fling but a stone—the giant dies."

"Smoothing the rugged brow of night."

The decasyllabic verse, however, will allow more fully of the

illustration of the subjects of Accent and Pause.

In the meantime, a word, and only a word, requires to be said

regarding verses of nine syllables. Such verses, in their normal and

most natural shape, start with two short syllables, followed by a long

one; and the same arrangement, repeated twice afterwards successively,

completes the line. It has thus but three accented to six unaccented

vowel-sounds. Few poets of any repute have used this measure

extensively, if we except Shenstone, to whose style it gives an almost

unique caste. For example—

"Not a pine in my grove is there seen,

But with tendrils of woodbine is bound;

Not a beech's more beautiful green,

But a sweet-briar entwines it around.

One would think she might like to retire

To the bower I have labour'd to rear;

Not a shrub that I heard her admire,

But I hasted and planted it there."

Shenstone often introduces eight syllables only, as in the following

stanza:—

"Ye shepherds, so cheerful and gay,

Whose flocks never carelessly roam,

Should Corydon's happen to stray,

Oh! call the poor wanderers home."

But he here retains the proper rhythm of the measure of nine syllables,

and the lines just quoted may rightly be looked on as still in that

verse, though defective in a syllable. There are several modes of

writing the same measure, different from that of Shenstone, but it may

suffice to notice one instance:—

"When in death I shall calmly recline,

Oh bear my heart to my mistress dear;

Tell her it lived upon smiles and wine

Of the brightest hue, while it linger'd here."

These lines are far from being very musical in themselves, and were only

so written to suit precomposed music. They are indeed positively harsh,

if read without a recollection of that music, and confirm the remark

made, that each numerical assemblage or series of syllables appears to

have only one kind of rhythm proper and natural to it, and apart from

which it is usually immelodious.

The ten-syllabled line is the heroic one of the English language, and

a noble one it is, rivalling the lofty hexameter of Greece and Rome, and

casting utterly into the shade the dancing, frivolous epic measure of

French poetry. The latter runs in this rhythmical fashion:—

"She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps."

And in this measure is composed the "Henriade" of Voltaire, with all the

famed tragedies of Corneille and Racine, as well as the pungent satires

of Boileau. How characteristic of the Gaul the adoption and use of such

a sing-song form of heroic verse! The decasyllabic line of England is of

a more dignified caste, while, at the same time, capable of serving far

more numerous and varied purposes. "All thoughts, all passions, all

delights, whatever stirs this mortal frame," it has been found fitted to

give expression to in a manner worthy of the themes. A glorious vehicle

it proved for the inspirations of Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, Jonson,

Beaumont, Fletcher, Milton, Dryden, Pope, Thomson, Akenside, Young,

Goldsmith, Cowper, and other bards of past generations; while scarcely

less magnificent has been the handling of the same measure by the poets

of the last age, the third great one in our literary annals. Crabbe,

Wordsworth, Coleridge, Rogers, Campbell, Southey, Byron, Shelley, and

Keats, with other recent poets of deserved renown, have all wielded the

decasyllabic line, with or without rhyme, with success, as well as with

singularly varied ability. A long list of dramatists of the Elizabethan,

Annean, and Georgean eras, has of course to be added to the roll now

given.

The heroic or epic measure of English verse consists of ten-syllabled

lines, each of which, in its ordinary rhythmical form, presents a short

and long syllable alternately. The length of the line enables us

distinctly to trace in it both accent and pause; and it is upon frequent

changes in the seats of these that the varied harmony of the heroic

measure depends. The general accentuation falls on the long syllables,

the sense, however, always directing the reader to accent some single

syllable specially in each line. The pause uniformly follows the

syllable or word so accented specially, unless that syllable be the

first part of a long word, or be followed by short monosyllables. Thus,

in the following lines the accent is severed from the pause.[26] Both

are marked:—

"As bu´sy—as intentive emmets are."

"So fresh the wou´nd is—and the grief so vast."

"Those seats of lu´xury—debate and pride."

The pause is usually marked by a comma or period, but this, as before

said, is not necessarily the case. In reading the decasyllabic line, a

pause must somewhere be made, whether or not the sense be divided by

points of any kind. The writings of Pope exemplify strikingly the formal

or normal rhythm, accent, and pause of the heroic line, and a quotation

may be made to exhibit these fully. The pause is marked in each line,

and the same mark shows the seat of the accent:—

"Here as I watch'd´ the dying lamps around,

From yonder shrine´ I heard a hollow sound.

Come, sister, come´! (it said, or seem'd to say)

Thy place is here´; sad sister, come away;

Once like thyself´, I trembled, wept, and pray'd,

Love's victim then´, though now a sainted maid:

But all is calm´ in this eternal sleep;

Here grief forgets to groan´, and love to weep;

Even superstition´ loses every fear,

For God, not man´, absolves our frailties here."

This passage contains the secret of that smoothness which so peculiarly

characterises the versification of Pope. In the preceding fourteen

lines, the accent and the pause are seated, in all save three instances,

at the same or fourth syllable; or rather the seat of the accent is only

once altered (at the twelfth line), while the pause, changed there, is

also changed in the fourth and thirteenth lines, where it occurs on the

fifth and short syllables in the words "echoes" and "superstition," the

accent remaining on the fourth in both cases. Now, the versification of

Pope is by no means so monotonous at all times, but it is sufficiently

marked by the peculiar features exhibited here—that is, the reiterated

location of the accent and pause near the middle of each line, with the

pause most frequently at long syllables—to render his verses smooth even

to a wearisome excess. It is this characteristic of structure, often

felt but seldom understood, which distinguishes the poetry of Pope from

that of almost every other writer of note in the language. Darwin

resembles him most closely, though the latter poet had marked

peculiarities of his own. He emphasised more particularly nearly

one-half the first syllables of his lines. Verse after verse runs thus:—

"Sighs in the gale, and whispers in the grot."

"Spans the pale nations with colossal stride."

The sweetness here is great, but, most undoubtedly, verse possessed of a

much more perfect and uncloying species of melody has been produced by

those poets who have admitted greater variety into the composition of

their lines. The licence used by Shakspeare, for example, in respect of

rhythm, accent, and pause, is unlimited; and beautiful, indeed, are the

results:—

"The quality of mercy´ is not strain'd.

It droppeth´ as the gentle dew from heaven

Upon the place beneath´. It is twice bless'd:

It blesseth him that gives´, and him that takes;

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest´; it becomes

The throned monarch´ better than his crown;

It is an attribute´ to God himself."

"Sweet´ are the uses of adversity,

Which, like a toad´, ugly and venomous,

Wears yet a precious jewel´ in his head."

"I know a bank´ whereon the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips´ and the nodding violet grows,

Quite over-canopied´ with lush woodbine,

With sweet musk-ro´ses, and with eglantine."

It is unnecessary to multiply examples of this sort. The decasyllabic

line of Shakspeare is varied in structure, as said, almost unlimitedly,

the seat of the accent and pause being shifted from the first word to

the last, as if at random, but often, in reality, with a fine regard to

the sense. Ben Jonson, and indeed all our older writers, indulge in the

like free variations of the heroic measure; and the poets of the present

day, in imitating their higher qualities, have also followed their

example in respect of mere versification. Wordsworth and Keats, perhaps,

may be held as having excelled all the moderns, their contemporaries, in

the _art_ of "building the lofty rhyme." Both attended specially to the

subject, deeming it by no means beneath them to meditate well the melody

of single lines, and the aptitude even of individual words. Hence may

Coleridge justly praise Wordsworth for "his austere purity of language,"

and "the perfect appropriateness of his words to the meaning"—for his

"sinewy strength" in isolated verses, and "the frequent _curiosa

felicitas_ of his diction." But Wordsworth himself owns his artistic

care and toil in composition even more strongly:—

"When happiest fancy has inspired the strains,

How oft the malice of one luckless word

Pursues the Enthusiast to the social board,

Or haunts him lated on the silent plains!"

The beauties of the Bard of Rydal are, at the same time, too widely

spread to render him the best example for our present purpose. Keats

attended more closely to the minutiæ of pure versification in single

passages, and may furnish better illustrations here. The subjoined

Arcadian picture displays exquisite ease and freedom of composition:—

"Leading the way´, young damsels danced along,

Bearing the burden´ of a shepherd's song;

Each having a white wicker´, overbrimm'd

With April's tender younglings´; next well trimm'd,

A crowd of shepherds´ with as sunburn'd looks

As may be read of´ in Arcadian books;

Such´ as sat listening round Apollo's pipe.

When the great deity´, for earth too ripe,

Let his divinity´ o'erflowing die

In music through the vales of Thessaly."

Equally fine is the varied melody of the young poet's blank verse:—

"As when´, upon a trancèd summer night,

Those green-robed senators´ of mighty woods,

Tall oaks´, branch-charmèd by the earnest stars,

´ Dream', and so dream all night without a stir,

Save from one gradual´ solitary gust

Which comes upon the silence´, and dies off,

As if the ebbing air´ had but one wave;

So came these words and went."

Before adverting to other characters and peculiarities of English

Versification generally, a very few words may be said in reference to

those measures that exceed the decasyllabic in length. Lines of eleven

feet have never been used in the composition of great or extended poems.

When employed in lyrics and occasional pieces, the rhythm has usually

been thus regulated:—

"Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,

Where, cold and unhonour'd, his relics are laid;

Sad, silent, and dark be the tears which we shed

As (the) night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head."

This rhythmical arrangement seems to be the natural one, and composes

merely the normal line of nine syllables, with a prefix of two others.

Some other forms of the eleven-syllabled line may be found in lyrical

collections, and more particularly in the works of Thomas Moore, who,

writing to pre-existing music, has produced specimens of almost every

variety of rhythm of which the English language is capable.

The measure of twelve syllables has been employed by one eminent and

true poet in the composition of a work of importance. The "Polyolbian"

of Drayton is here alluded to. As in the case of other verses of an even

number of syllables, the regular alternation of short and long seems

most suitable to lines of twelve. Drayton thought so, as the following

brief extract descriptive of Robin Hood will show:—

"Then, taking them to rest, his merry men and he

Slept many a summer's night beneath the greenwood tree.

From wealthy abbots' chests, and churls' abundant store,

What oftentimes he took he shared among the poor;

No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin's way,

To him before he went, but for his pass must pay;

The widow in distress he graciously relieved,

And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin grieved."

It is superfluous to dwell on accentuation or pauses here, the line

being commonly divided into two even parts, or, in truth, two

six-syllabled lines. The rhythm, however, is often arranged differently

in lyrics, as the first lines of some of those of Moore will evince:—

"As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow."

"We may roam through this world like a child at a feast."

"Like the bright lamp that shone in Kildare's holy fane."

In these instances, two short syllables and a long one occur in

alternation throughout the twelve. Moore has given other varieties of

this measure, as—

"Through grief and through danger, thy smile hath cheer'd my way;"

but these are merely capriccios to suit certain music, and need not

occupy our time here. The same poet has even a line of thirteen

syllables.[27]

"At the mid-hour of night, when stars are weeping I fly."

This measure is a most awkward one, certainly. The line of fourteen

syllables is more natural, and was used in at least one long piece

called "Albion's England," by Thomas Warner, a rhymer of the sixteenth

century. A maid is advised whom to love in these terms:—

"The ploughman's labour hath no end, and he a churl will prove;

The craftsman hath more work on hand than fitteth one to love;

The merchant trafficking abroad, suspects his wife at home;

A youth will play the wanton, and an old will play the mome:

Then choose a shepherd."

This is but the lumbering dodecasyllabic verse rendered more lumbering

still by two fresh feet, it will be generally allowed. In fact, these

lines of twelve and fourteen feet have only been used effectually as

"Alexandrines," or single lines introduced to wind up, or heighten the

force of passages, in the heroic or the octosyllabic measure. Pope

ridicules this practice, though it was a favourite one with Dryden:—

"A needless Alexandrine ends the song,

That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

In Dryden's "Ode to music," the following instances of the two kinds of

Alexandrines occur:—

"Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire."

"And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain."

By giving lines of ten, twelve, and fourteen syllables in succession, as

he occasionally does in his translation of Virgil, Dryden brings

passages with artistic skill to a very noble climax. But the Alexandrine

is now nearly obsolete in our poetry.

The most common features and peculiarities of English Versification

have now received a share of attention. Measure and Rhythm,—Accent and

Pause, have all been duly noticed. There are yet other points, however,

connected with the subject, which merit equal attention from the student

of poetical composition. Every rule that has been mentioned may be

preserved, and still most inharmonious verse may be the result. The

greatest poets, either from experience or innate musical taste, adopted

additional means to arrive at perfect versification. Pope points to some

of these in his well-known lines:—

"The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;

But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,

The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar."

The poet, as all will of course see, here exemplifies the meaning of his

lines practically in their structure. The Greek and Roman writers were

quite aware of the effect of congruous sound and sense. Virgil has

several famous lines constructed on this principle, as—

"Monstrum, horrendum, informe, ingens cui lumen ademptum."

(A monster, horrid, formless, gross, and blind.)

To give a better idea of the efficient way in which the poet has

roughened the above verse to suit the picture of a monster, one of his

ordinary lines may be quoted:—

"Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas."

But it is wrong to call this an ordinary line, since Dr. Johnson

considered it to be the most musical in any human language. Ovid, again,

has made the sense and sound (and also construction) agree finely in the

following passage:—

"Sponte sua carmen numeros veniebat ad aptos,

Et quod tentabam dicere versus erat."

Pope has imitated these lines, and applied them to himself, the

signification being simply—

"I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came."

Among our own great bards, Milton stands peculiarly distinguished for

success in the use of this ornament of verse. The "Allegro" and

"Penseroso" exhibit various exquisite instances.

"Swinging slow with sullen roar."

"On the light fantastic toe."

"Through the high wood echoing shrill."

"And the busy hum of men."

"Most musical, most melancholy."

"Lap me in soft Lydian airs."

In the "Paradise Lost," again, there occur many passages rendered

forcible in the extreme by the adaptation of sound to sense. Thus—

"Him the Almighty power

Hurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,

With hideous ruin and combustion, down

To bottomless perdition."

Still more remarkable is the following passage, as expressive of slow

and toilsome travel:—

"The fiend

O'er bog or steep, through straight, rough, dense, or rare,

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."

The chief mean of attaining _general harmony_ in verse is _a free and

happy distribution of the vowel-sounds_. For producing a _special

harmony_, consonant with _special signification_, other rules require to

be followed. But, in the first place, let us look particularly to the

means of rendering verse simply and aggregately melodious. It must not

be supposed, as many are apt to do, that even the most illustrious poets

considered it beneath them to attend to such minutiæ as the distribution

of the vowels in their verses. Look at the grand opening of "Paradise

Lost." It is scarcely conceivable that the remarkable variation of the

vowels there, on which the effect will be found largely to depend, can

have been the result of chance. No one line almost, it will be seen,

gives the same vowel-_sound_ twice.

"Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the heavenly seat,

Sing, heavenly Muse."

The following stanza of Leyden was considered by Scott one of the most

musical in the language, and it is rendered so mainly by its vowel

variety:—

"How sweetly swell on Jura's heath

The murmurs of the mountain bee!

How sweetly mourns the writhèd shell,

Of Jura's shore, its parent sea!"

A passage from the "Laodamia" of Wordsworth may be pointed to as an

equally striking illustration of the same rule:—

"He

Spake of heroic arts in graver mood

Revived, with finer harmony pursued;

Of all that is most beauteous—imaged there

In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,

An ampler ether, a diviner air,

And fields invested with purpureal glaems;

Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day

Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey."

Wordsworth, who in truth is the perfect master of this species of

Melody, as the "Excursion" will prove to all those who look thereinto

attentively, has scarcely once repeated the same exact sound in any two

words, of any one line, in the preceding quotation. One more passage

(from "Lycidas") may be given to undeceive yet more completely those who

have been want to ascribe the rich Miltonic melody to mere chance:—

"Alas! what boots it with incessant care

To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade.

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?

Were it not better done, as others use,

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,

Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?"

This most melodious passage has often been quoted, but the source of its

melody has not been generally recognised by ordinary readers. The key

which unlocks the secret has here been given. Let it be applied to our

poetry at large, and it will be found to explain the effect of many of

its grandest and sweetest passages.

The proper distribution of the vowels, then, so effective in the hands

of Milton and Wordsworth, may be decisively viewed as a main help to

harmony of versification generally. But when the poet desires to make

his language express _particular_ meanings by sounds, he studies more

specially, in the first place, the right disposition of accent and

pause, and so advances partly to his object. Thus Milton, in describing

the fall of Mulciber or Vulcan from heaven, leaves him, as it were,

tumbling and tumbling in the verse, by a beautiful pause:—

"From morn

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,

A summer's day."

A similar and not less exquisite pause is made in the famed passage,

otherwise beautiful from variety of vowels, where, after swelling

allusions to

"What resounds

In fable or romance of Uther's son

Begirt with British and Armoric knights,

And all who since, baptized or infidel,

Jousted in Aspramount or Montalbalm,"

a dying and most melodious close is attained—

"When Charlemain with all his peerage fell

_By Fontarabia_."

Often are similar pauses made effectively at the opening of lines:—

"The schoolboy, wandering through the wood,

To pull the primrose gay,

_Starts_, the new voice of spring to hear,

And imitates thy lay."

"My song, its pinions disarray'd of night,

_Droop'd_."

"The carvèd angels, ever eager eyed,

_Stared_."

"Liberty,

From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er Spain

Scattering contagious fire into the sky,

_Gleam'd_."

Much more striking instances of the effect of laying marked and

compulsory pauses on first syllables might be adduced, but these, taken

by chance, may suffice as illustrations. Such aids to impressive

versifying must not be overlooked by young poets. The pause and accent,

however, may both be similarly employed and fixed without the help of

positive periods. Thus Wordsworth, in lines likewise beautiful from

vowel-variety:—

"What time the hunter's earliest horn is heard,

_Startling_ the golden hills."

The voice accents the word "startling" naturally; and mind and ear both

own its peculiar aptitude where it is placed. Not less marked is the

force of the same word in the middle of the Miltonic line:—

"To hear the lark begin his flight,

And singing _startle_ the dull night."

And again, in the case of the word "start"—

"The patriot nymph _starts_ at imagined sounds."

The following are examples of sense brought clearly out, by placing the

pause and accent at different points of the verses:—

"My heart _aches_, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense."

"Cut mercy with a sharp _knife_ to the bone."

The strong effect of these lines arises from the accent being thrown on

syllables usually short or unaccented in the decasyllabic verse. This is

a common stroke of art with Milton, when he would lay force on

particular words. Most of our great poets, indeed, knew and practised

the same rule.

So much for the effects of the structure of the verse, and the location

of the accent and pause. But the simple choice of _apt diction_ is still

more important to the art of effective versification, as far as the

evolution of special meanings is concerned. Reference is not here made

to diction that is apt through signification merely, but such, more

particularly, as by its _sound_ enhances the force of the thoughts or

images which it conveys. In this shape is the congruity of sound and

sense best developed. To the instances given from Pope and Milton others

may now be added, with an explanation of the artistic rules employed in

the case.

Observe how finely appropriate is the sound to the sense in the line:—

"The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea."

By the use of the _rs_ here it is, that the very sound of the surge

seems to be brought to the ear; and even the open vowels at the close

give something like the sense of a great and cold waste of waters beyond

the surge. Equally apt is the impression made by the lines:—

"The murmurous haunt of flies on summer-eves."

"Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge

Stubborn'd with iron."

"A ghostly under-song,

Like hoarse night-gusts sepulchral briars among."

"The snorting of the war-horse of the storm."

These are instances in which the roughening effect of the _r_ is felt to

aid the meaning powerfully. The actual and direct meaning of the words

chosen, beyond a doubt, is by far the most important point in all kinds

of composition; but the art of the poet may be more or less evinced in

his selection of such as have a fit and correspondent sound. All great

poets have recognised this law. The art, however, must not be too

palpable. Pope, in exemplifying the harsh effect of the letter _r_,

allowed the art to be too easily seen.

"The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar."

Keats, before quoted, manages the matter more delicately.

We refer to the use of the letter _r_ simply in illustration of a

principle of great consequence in poetical composition. It is also of

the widest application. Not a letter, or combination of letters, in the

English language, is without some peculiar force of sound of its own,

enhancing sense; and above all does this assertion hold good in respect

to the Anglo-Saxon elements or portions of our vernacular tongue. This

circumstance arises from the fact of the Anglo-Saxon being a very pure

dialect of a primitive language, the earliest words of which languages

are ever mere descriptions, as far as sound goes, of the acts or objects

implied or spoken of. _Hiss_ and _howl_, for instance, are clearly

imitative of the noises of hissing and howling; and thousands of

similarly derived vocables are not less expressive in a kindred way. Our

most eminent national poets, whether taught by the ear or by experience,

have shown themselves well aware of these things, and have turned to

fine account the Anglo-Saxon constituents of the mother-tongue. In those

languages, again, which have passed through various shapes since their

first invention by man—as the French, Spanish, and Italian—nearly all

traces of congruous sound and sense have been lost, and general

modulation has taken place of specific expressiveness. The gain here,

which practically rests on the use of a multiplicity of vowels, cannot

be held to counterbalance the loss. Exquisitely melodious as are the

verses of Tasso and Ariosto, for example, no one wholly ignorant of

Italian could ever even guess at the meaning of a single line or word

from the mere hearing. The English language stands placed, in the main,

very differently: and happily does it do so, as far as force,

impressiveness, and picturesque beauty are concerned. No doubt, we have

many words founded on the Latin and its modern derivations; and these

are far from unserviceable, inasmuch as they lend general harmony to our

tongue, spoken and written. But our special strength of diction comes

from the Anglo-Saxon; and fortunate is it, that that primitive form of

speech still forms the chief constituent of the national language of

Britain.

The reader now understands by what means our best national poets have

striven to render sound and sense congruous in their verses. It has

mainly been, as said, by the use of Anglo-Saxon words which could

scarcely fail to suit the end well, since they were actually formed,

primarily, upon that very principle. Much of the power, of course, lies

in the consonants which occur so freely in the language; and yet the

vowels, while essential to the use and force of the consonants, are not

without their individual and respective kinds and shades of

expressiveness. The _o_, for instance, has a breadth and weight not

pertaining to the other vowels, as in the last of these two lines—

"Some words she spake

In solemn tenour and deep organ tone."

The other vowels have also their respective degrees of depth, lightness,

and other qualities. But mere general harmony only, or chiefly, can be

attained by the use of vowel-sounds unaided by consonants of particular

powers; and it has already been pointed out, that, to develop that

harmony fully, an extensive variation of the said sounds is the

principal thing required, and has ever been employed by the greatest

poets.

With regard to Consonants, there is scarcely one in the alphabet

without some well-marked and special force of its own. By conjunction

with others, or with vowels, this special force may likewise be modified

vastly, giving rise to numberless varieties of expression, or rather

expressiveness. The roughening power of the letter _r_ has been adverted

to, and other consonants may now be noticed, with exemplifications, of

their efficient use in poetry. The consonants are noticeable for their

peculiar powers, at once at the beginning, in the middle, and at the

close of words; but the present purpose will be best served by taking

them up successively, as initial letters.

The consonant _b_, at the opening of words, has no very marked force;

but it originates many expressive terms, often finely employed in

poetry.

"He _babbled_ of green fields."

Here the word paints the act to perfection. "_Beslubbered_ all with

tears." "A _blubbering_ boy." "Fire burn, and caldron _bubble_." All of

these words exemplify sound and sense clearly combined; and our poets

have also used, with like effect, _bawl_, _brawl_, _bray_, and many

other common terms, beginning with _b_. But on the whole, its initial

power is not great; and it is, indeed, rather a soft consonant, like the

labials generally. _C_, again, sounded as _k_, has really a special

power, quick, sharp, and cutting, at the commencement of words, and more

particularly when followed by _l_ and _r_, and aided by apt

terminations. Well did Milton and others of our bards know this fact, as

the subjoined lines may partly show:—

"_Clash'd_ their sounding shields the din of war."

"Till all his limbs do _crack_."

"I _cleave_ with rapid fin the wave."

"In one wild havoc _crash'd_."

"The moonbeams _crisp_ the _curling_ surge."

"By the howling of the dog."

"By the _croaking_ of the frog."

All these are effective terms, both in the opening and close. Those who

recollect any great actor in "Hamlet," must have noticed the splendid

emphasis placeable on the words—

"What should such fellows as I do,

_Crawling_ betwixt earth and heaven!"

The following is most aptly heavy:—

"Save that a _clog_ doth hang yet at my heel."

And we have here a fine expression, with an equally good pause:—

"I plead a pardon for my tale,

And having hemmed and _cough'd_—begin."

But _cough_ must be pronounced in the old Anglo-Saxon way, and not as

_coff_. The power of the letter _d_, at the commencement of words, is

not quick and sharp like the _c_, but rather slow and heavy; and this

effect is vastly increased when an _r_ is added. Thus, for instance:—

"_Drags_ its slow length along."

"Not all the _drowsy_ syrups of the world."

"The _dreary_ melody of bedded reeds."

"Snivelling and _drivelling_ folly without end."

"Good shepherds after shearing _drench_ their sheep."

"And _dropping_ melody with every tear."

Such words, too, as _drawl_, _droop_, _drip_, _drizzle_, _drum_, and

others, may be, have been used excellently in poetry. The _f_ is a

letter expressive of a light and rapid action, at least when conjoined

with other consonants. Campbell uses it finely in both ways:—

"But see! 'mid the _fast-flashing_ lightnings of war.

What steed to the desert _flies frantic and far_?"

The quick action is also signified in _flay_, _flog_, _fling_,

_flitter_, and other vocables. Coriolanus portrays verbally the very

deed, when he tells how,

"Like an eagle in a dovecot, he

_Flutter'd_ their Volsces in Corioli."

_G_, by itself, is rather a soft consonant; and, followed by _l_, it has

also a mild effect, as in the very expressive words, _gleam_, _glide_,

_glitter_, _glisten_, _gloom_, and the like. _Gr_, again, is singularly

heavy and harsh, as in the succeeding cases:—

"And _grinn'd_, terrific, a sardonic look."

"_Grinn'd_ horribly a ghastly smile."

"_Grapple_ him to thy soul with hooks of steel."

"In came Margaret's _grimly_ ghost."

Of kindred force are _grasp_, _gripe_, _grope_, and others. _Gnash_ and

_gnaw_ have a sort of convulsive twist in sense, and so should they have

in sound, when rightly pronounced, and after the original mode. By the

way, though _grin_ be a strong word, in its old shape it is stronger;

and that _girn_, still used in Scotland.

All of these specimens of the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary, and many of a

kindred order, have been often made to tell exquisitely in our national

poetry. The same averment may be made regarding hosts of other words,

differently begun and formed; but we must so far content ourselves with

having shown the principle, and go over what is to come more quickly.

However, the aspirate _h_ must not be lightly overpassed, having a

striking value in verse. Being pronounced with an _aspiration_, it gives

a certain energy to almost all words which it begins, as _hack_,

_harsh_, _hawl_, _haste_, _hit_, _hunt_, and the like. To some terms it

imparts a sort of laboriously _elevative_ force. Pope composed the

following line purposely to exemplify this property:—

Up the high hill, he heaves a huge round stone."

The merely expiratory force of the _h_ is felt equally in naming the

"heights of heaven" and the "hollows of hell." Though but half a letter,

it is thus potent in poetry, and is often beautifully turned to account

by Milton, as in the passage, "Him the Almighty power _hurled

headlong_," and so on.

The letter _j_ gives the initiative to many expressive words, though

their expressiveness rests mainly on the terminations. Such is the case

with _jar_, _jerk_, _jig_, _jilt_, _jog_, _jostle_, _jumble_, _jump_.

Our comic writers have used the most of these to good purpose. It is

worth while specially to notice _jeer_. It would seem as if the _eer_

was an ending peculiarly fitted to express the meaning which _jeer_

bears, since it gives a pretty similar force to _sneer_, _fleer_,

_leer_, _peer_, _queer_, and some others. Sound and sense concur in all

these terms. The _k_ merely gives to words the same power as the hard

_c_. _L_ has no great force as the initial letter of words, though it

yet possesses so far its own peculiar expressiveness. That the whole

members of the alphabet do so, indeed, may be very simply proved. Of the

following twelve monosyllables closing in _ash_, the different opening

letters give a different force, in respect of sound, to each word, and

such as perfectly accords with the actual and several meanings. The

words are, _clash_, _crash_, _dash_, _flash_, _gnash_, _lash_, _mash_,

_quash_, _plash_, _slash_, _smash_, and _thrash_. The distinction here

may not be great in some instances, but it certainly is so in the

grating _crash_, the rapid _flash_, and the ponderous _smash_! These

points are well worthy the attention of the student of English

Versification—in truth, of English literature generally.

Many expressive words, opening with _l_, are formed by apt closes, as

_lift_, _lisp_, _limp_, _loathe_, _log_, _lull_, and _lurk_. How fine

the _loll_ in Shakspeare's line:—

"The large Achilles, on his press'd bed _lolling_,

From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause!"

_M_ and _n_, opening words isolatedly, have little peculiarity of power,

but gain it by continuations and terminations:—

"Hell is _murky_."

"To pluck the _mangled_ Tybalt from his shroud."

"Thrice the brinded cat hath _mew'd_."

"The _matted_ woods."

"Thou detestable womb, thou _maw_ of death."

"So the two brothers and their _murder'd_ man."

"This hand is _moist_, my lady."

"The _muffled_ drum."

And so on. _Neigh_, _nod_, _nip_, _nick_ and so forth, exemplify the _n_

sufficiently. There are fewer words of a very expressive kind opened by

_p_, than by any other letter which may be followed by other consonants,

as _l_and _r_. Nor need _q_ delay our progress. _R_, however, as already

observed, is one of the most emphatic letters in the alphabet; and,

whether at the beginning, in the middle, or at the close of words, it

gives them a striking and specific force in enunciation. Rude and rough

power lies in its sound. The monosyllabic verbs which it commences show

well what its original effect was felt to be. _Race_, _rage_, _rack_,

_rail_, _rain_, _rake_, _ramp_, _range_, _rant_, _rate_, _rave_, _rash_,

_raze_—all these words have an affinity of meaning, derived from the

_ra_, though modified by the endings. Followed by other vowels, the _r_

softens somewhat, as in _reach_, _reap_, _ride_, _rise_, and the like;

but still there is force of action implied in the sound. _Ring_, _rip_,

and _rift_, may be styled _ear-pictures_. It is impossible, by

citations, to give any conception of the extent to which the _r_ has

been used in imparting fitting emphasis to poetry. Nearly all words,

implying terror or horror, rest mainly on it for their picturesque

force. This point, however, has been already illustrated sufficiently

for the present purpose.

_S_, by itself, opens many words of mild action, as _sail_, _sew_,

_sit_, _soar_, and _suck_. With an additional consonant; _sc_, _sh_,

_sk_, _sl_, _sm_, _sn_, _sp_, _sq_, _st_, and _su_ it gives rise to most

potent verbs of action; and still stronger ones are formed when another

consonant is added, as in the cases of _scr_, _spr_, and _str_. What is

chiefly to the point here, sense and sound are strikingly congruous in

terms of this formation. The initials give force whatever the endings

may be, though these may modify it largely. Let the reader look well at

the following list. _Scald_, _scalp_, _scare_, _scamper_, _scatter_,

_scoff_, _scorn_, _scowl_, _scour_, _scourge_, _scrape_, _scrawl_,

_scratch_, _scream_, _screw_, _scrub_, _scramble_, _scraggy_, _scud_;

_shake_, _shape_, _shave_, _shift_, _shine_, _shirk_, _shiver_, _shock_,

_shoot_, _shout_, _shriek_, _shrill_, _shrink_, _shrug_, _shuffle_,

_shudder_, _skate_, _skim_, _skiff_, _skirr_; _slap_, _slay_, _sleep_,

_slumber_, _slip_, _slit_, _slink_, _sling_, _slow_, _slough_,

_sluggish_, _slur_, _slut_, _sly_; _smash_, _smite_, _smile_, _smooth_,

_smug_, _smuggle_, _smother_; _snap_, _snarl_, _snare_, _snatch_,

_snib_, _snip_, _snub_, _sneap_, _snack_, _snort_, _snivel_, _snell_;

_speed_, _spit_, _split_, _splash_, _spout_, _spring_, _spur_, _spurt_,

_spurn_, _sputter_, _spy_, _sprinkle_; _squeeze_, _squall_, _squeak_,

_squat_, _squash_, _squabble_, _squib_; _stab_, _stamp_, _stare_,

_start_, _steal_, _steam_, _steep_, _steer_, _step_, _stem_, _stick_,

_sting_, _stir_, _stoop_, _storm_, _stow_; _strain_, _strap_, _streak_,

_stress_, _stretch_, _strew_, _stride_, _strike_, _string_, _strip_,

strive, stroll, strut, stuff, stump, stun, stagger, stammer, _startle_,

_strangle_, _stutter_, _struggle_, _stumble_; _sway_, _sweep_, _swell_,

_swing_, _swoop_, _swirl_.

This is truly a long roll; but it is one deserving of all attention

from those who are studying the euphony, or the happy cacophony, of the

English vocabulary, with an eye to poetic composition. Each word here

is, to repeat a somewhat dubious phrase, a positive auricular picture.

There is variety in sense, but it is still accompanied by fit variety of

sound. And yet a general similarity of significations exists among the

words formed by _s_ with one or more additional consonants: while still

more akin are the sets of words begun alike. The whole, collectively,

express force, and for the most part strong force. _Scare_ and _scream_

imply (in sound and sense) sharp action; _shake_ and _shrink_, soft and

moderate; _skate_ and _skim_, quick and smooth; _slip_ and _sling_,

rapid and easy; _smash_ and _smite_, strong and suppressive; _snarl_ and

_snap_, snarling and snappish; _spit_ and _split_, slight but decisive;

_squeeze_ and _squeak_, forcible but petty; _stab_ and _stamp_, direct

and powerful; _strain_ and _strike_, full of _straining strength_, and

with their congeners, the most energetic of words, in sound and sense,

in the language. In verbs opened by _sw_, as in _sweep_ and _swirl_, the

_s_ gives an onward impulse, as it were, and the _w_ renders it so far

rotatory. Leigh Hunt applies the word swirl finely to ships:—

"They chase the whistling brine, and swirl into the bay."

Most of the words formed with _t_ as the initial derive from it no

very marked force, and depend for that quality on the same terminations

which have been noticed as giving force to others. The _t_ need not,

therefore, occupy our space. The _w_ is also weak alone, but forms terms

of some initial pith with the aspirate _h_ as _wheel_, _whiff_, _whelm_,

_whip_, _whirl_, _whisk_, and _whoop_. There is a sort of sense of

circuitous motion given by the _wh_; and, with their well-discriminated

terminations, the verbs of action which it opens are very expressive.

When _wr_ was pronounced _uurr_, the words, _wrangle_, _wrestle_,

_wreath_, _wring_, _wrench_, and _wrath_ were words of potency, twisting

and convulsive. But the _w_ is now mute, and their might has departed.

It is because much, very much, of the power, the majesty, and the

beauty of English Poetry, as left to us by our fathers, is traceable to

the liberal use of the Anglo-Saxon elements of our national language,

that the subject has been treated of here so lengthily. Moreover, there

has been evinced of late, it is painful to add, a growing tendency on

the part of many writers to cultivate Gallicisms, as words of Roman

derivation are rightly named, to a still greater extent than has yet

been done amongst us, and to the repression of our true native

vocabulary. A gain may be made in this way in respect of general

harmony, as before observed, but it is a gain which never can

counterbalance the loss in point of pith and picturesqueness. It is not

said here, that our greater recent poets have been the chief deserters

of the Anglo-Saxon tongue. On the contrary, many of them have shown a

full sense of its merits, and have used it finely. It is a remarkable

corroboration, indeed, of the present argument, that in all their best

passages, they almost uniformly employ the said tongue, whether

consciously or unconsciously. Look at the following passage of Burns. It

has been pronounced by critics to embody the most powerful picture in

modern poetry.

"Coffins stood round like open presses,

That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;

And by some devilish cantrip sleight,

Each in its cauld hand held a light,

By which heroic Tam was able

To note upon the haly table

A murderer's banes in gibbet-airns;

Twa span-lang, wee unchristen'd bairns;

A thief, new cuttit frae a rape—

Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;

A garter which a babe had strangled;

A knife, a father's throat had mangled,

Whom his ain son o' life had reft—

The gray hairs yet stack to the heft."

This passage forms a splendid specimen of almost pure Anglo-Saxon; and,

among the few words of a different origin, one of the most marked may

perhaps be rightly held a blemish—namely _heroic_. Like Burns,

Wordsworth, and all those moderns who have studied ear-painting (if this

phrase may be again pardoned) as well as eye-painting in their verses,

have drawn freely on the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary. All young and incipient

versifiers should study their works, and "Go and do likewise."

The general construction of English verse, and the various rules by

which it is rendered melodious, expressive, and picturesque, having now

been explained, it remains but to indicate, in a few words, the

principal divisions of Poetry common, among us. Epic verse is held to be

the highest description of poetical composition. The "Iliad" of Homer

and "Æneid" of Virgil have always formed models in this department; and

it is remarkable, but true, that we can scarcely be said to have one

English epic that rises to their standard, saving "Paradise Lost." Of

the character of an epic, it need but be said here, that the subject,

the diction, and the treatment must all be alike lofty and sustained. In

English, the decasyllabic is the epic line, sometimes called the Heroic.

If we have so few epics, however, we have many poems of high note that

are usually styled Didactic, from their _teaching_ great truths.

Akenside, Thomson, Cowper, Rogers, and Campbell wrote such poems, some

in blank verse, others in rhyme. Where rhymed, they are all written in

Couplets, or pairs of lines, rhyming to one another, in regular

succession. Narrative, Descriptive, and Satiric poems (the several

objects of which may be drawn from these epithets) are important species

of composition, and for the most part constructed similarly to the Epic

and Didactic pieces. In truth, the ten-syllabled line, in couplets or in

blank verse, though best adapted for grave subjects, has been employed

on almost all themes by English poets. Nearly the same thing may be said

of the octosyllabic verse, also written commonly in couplets, when used

in long compositions. Many poems, which may be generally termed

Romantic, have likewise been framed in the eight-syllabled line, though

not usually in couplets.

The name of Stanzas is bestowed, aggregately, on all assemblages of

lines, exceeding two in number, when they are arranged continuously. The

following is a stanza of three lines, termed isolatedly a Triplet:—

"Nothing, thou elder brother even to Shade.

Thou hadst a being ere the world was made,

And (well fix'd) art alone of ending not afraid."

Stanzas in four lines, called specially Quatrains, are exemplified in

Gray's "Churchyard Elegy." Indeed, that stanza has long been denominated

the Elegiac. Tennyson's "In Memoriam" is composed in octosyllabic

quatrains. In stanzas of four lines, also, half the minor poetry in the

language is composed. The general name of "Lyrical" is given to such

poetry, and implies the subjects to be occasional and detached, and the

pieces usually brief. "Songs" come within the Lyric category. It would

be needless to exemplify a stanza so well known, either in its frequent

form of alternate rhyming lines of eight and eight syllables, or its yet

more common one of eight and six. No continuous poems of any length or

moment have been written in five-line stanzas, and few in those of six

lines. The latest piece in the latter shape has been Sir E. L. Bulwer's

"King Arthur;" but the stanza is too like the very famous one called in

Italy the _ottava rima_, with two lines lopped off and not beneficially.

The "Don Juan" of Byron is composed in this _ottava rima_, or

eight-lined stanza; but it was borrowed from the Italians (the real

inventors) by William Tennant, and used in his "Anster Fair," long

before Frere or Byron thought of its appropriation—a circumstance of

which many critics have shown a discreditable ignorance. It is the best

of all stanzas for a light or burlesque epic, the principle of its

construction being—seriousness in the first six lines, and in the last

two a mockery of that seriousness. The great poet, however, can make any

stanza great. Shakspeare used the six-line stanza in his "Venus and

Adonis," and that of seven lines in his "Lucrece."

The only other regular English stanza, of high note, and calling for

mention here, is the Spenserian, consisting of nine lines, the first

eight decasyllabic, and the last an Alexandrine of twelve feet. Many

noble poems have been written in this stanza, from Spenser's "Fairy

Queen" to Byron's "Childe Harold," which may be viewed as romantic and

narrative epics respectively. It is calculated to convey aptly the

loftiest poetry, though Thomson and Shenstone have employed it for

lighter purposes, in the "Castle of Indolence" and "Schoolmistress."

The sonnet is, in its highest moods, an epic in fourteen lines; and,

as regards its normal structure, should present but four different

rhymes in all. So Milton wrote it, and so often Wordsworth, _facile

principes_ in this walk of poetic composition; but six or more rhymes

are commonly admitted. The rhymes of the successive lines stand thus, in

the Miltonic sonnet:—"arms, seize, please, harms, charms, these, seas,

warms, bower, spare, tower, air, power, bare." In a sonnet, Wordsworth

splendidly exemplifies the sonnet, and tells its uses and its history.

("Scorn not," &c. Wordsworth's Miscellaneous Sonnets.)

The Ode is a poem of irregular construction, or rather was so

constructed by the Greek bard Pindar, and after him by Dryden and

Collins, his best English imitators. Wordsworth and Coleridge also wrote

fine odes of late years, and they followed the same irregularities of

composition. Shelley and Keats, however, produced noble pieces, of the

same kind, as those on "Liberty" and "Melancholy," in which they used a

very free measure, but in orderly stanzas. It would be out of place to

describe at length the plan of the Pindaric ode—for it had a general

plan, though fantastic in details. The wildest forms of it were styled

the dithyrambic; and impassioned grandeur of sentiment and diction were

its characteristics. Horace, in his best odes, contented himself with

aiming at dignity and justness of thoughts, and pointedness of

expression. Dryden and Collins, as well as Coleridge and Shelley, copied

and approached the dithyrambic fervour; while Keats sought but after

beauty, and left us masterpieces in that kind—"alas, too few!"

With yet a word on the art of Song-Writing, this essay may be closed.

It well merits a word, and chiefly because it is an art the most easy in

seeming, and the most difficult in reality, in the entire range of

literary composition. People might easily discern this truth, if they

would but take note how few really great song-writers have ever

flourished among men, at any time, or in any country. Without forgetting

Ramsay, Hogg, and Cunningham, it may be justly asserted that Scotland

has seen but one such bard, Robert Burns. Ireland has likewise produced

but one, Thomas Moore. England has given birth to—not one song-writer of

the same high order! Such is the fact; for to such parties as the

Dibdins, Charles Morris, or Haynes Bayly, the rank of great song-writers

cannot be assigned. However, it is but fair to admit that Moore should

be reckoned as in the main a song-writer of England, his music only, and

occasionally his subjects, being Irish. His pieces are wholly in the

English tongue, and by the English nation he may so far be claimed. That

numberless individuals have written one or two good songs, is

unquestionable, but the circumstance only strengthens the present

argument. It shows the difficulty of fitly carrying out and sustaining

the practice of song-writing.

Notwithstanding these glaring truths, the young, on feeling the first

prompting of the muse, fly to this species of composition almost

invariably. Now, whether they do or do not possess the requisite

poetical powers (which is not the point under consideration here), they

certainly take up the said task, almost always, in total ignorance of

the rules of construction necessary to be observed in song-writing.

These are few, but all-important. After simplicity and concentration of

thought and diction—the first elements in such compositions—simplicity

of grammatical arrangement stands next in consequence. An inverted

expression is most injurious, and a parenthetic clause almost uniformly

fatal. All forms of complication are indeed alike hurtful; and even

epithets, and adjectives of every kind, can be employed but sparingly,

and must be most direct and simple. That mode of poetic diction, which

introduces its similitudes by "as the," "so the," and "like the," is

ruinous in songs. Scarcely less so are interjections, especially when of

some length. Look how sadly even Wordsworth failed, when he thought to

improve on the old ballad of Helen of Kirkconnel!

"Fair Ellen Irvine, _when, she sate_

_Upon the braes of Kirtle_,

Was lovely _as a Grecian maid_,

_Adorn'd with wreaths of myrtle_."

Compare the effect of this stanza with its parenthetic clause and its

tale-tagged similitude, to that of the old ballad, so remarkable for its

simplicity:—

"I wish I were where Helen lies;

Night and day on me she cries;

Oh! that I were where Helen lies,

On fair Kirkconnel lea."

* * * * * *

"Curst be the head that thought the thought,

Curst be the hand that shot the shot,

When in my arms burd Helen dropt,

And died to succour me."

Even on a reading, the effect of these pieces is widely different, and

would be felt ten times more were they sung. The best music is ever cast

away on involved phraseology; and herein lies, in fact, the main reason

for simplicity of construction in songs.

With these hints on the Art of composing Songs, most of the

suggestions before given respecting the selection of words of peculiar

sounds, may also be kept in mind. Burns forgot them not. Observe his

Wandering Willie:—

"Rest, ye wild winds, in the caves of your slumbers,

How your dread howling a lover alarms."

But let all the most admired songs of Burns, and of Moore also, be

examined attentively, and the skilful adaptation of the words to the

sentiment, the position and the purpose will appear clearly. What

language, for example, could be more artistically suited to an

exquisitely soft air than the following by Moore?—

"'Tis the last rose of summer,

Left blooming alone,

All its lovely companions

Are faded and gone."

If these lines were written in a dialect utterly strange to the hearer,

he still could not but feel their admirable melodiousness, so

appropriate to the melodious music. In the case, therefore, of

song-writing generally—whether to known or unknown music—the purpose of

the composition must ever be kept in mind. A song, if not satisfactorily

fitted for vocal utterance, and intelligible on the hearing of a moment,

neither deserves, nor will receive, popular appreciation and acceptance.

Where true poetry is interfused, as in the productions of Burns and

Moore, then, indeed, is mastership in the art of song-writing really

shown. Of all classes of writers, the song-writer is perhaps the most

truly an artist.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rules for Making English Verse.

BY EDWARD BYSSHE.

These rules I have, according to the best of my judgment, endeavoured to

extract from the practice, and to frame after the examples, of the poets

that are most celebrated for a fluent and numerous turn of verse.

In the English versification there are two things chiefly to be

considered:

1. The verses.

2. The several sorts of poems, or composition in verse.

But because in the verses there are also two things to be

observed, the structure of the verse and the rhyme, this

treatise shall be divided into three chapters;

I. Of the structure of English verses.

II. Of rhyme.

III. Of the several sorts of poems, or composition in verse.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE STRUCTURE OF ENGLISH VERSES.

The structure of our verses, whether blank or in rhyme, consists in a

certain number of syllables; not in feet composed of long and short

syllables, as the verses of the Greeks and Romans. And though some

ingenious persons formerly puzzled themselves in prescribing rules for

the quantity of English syllables, and, in imitation of the Latins,

composed verses by the measure of spondees, dactyls, &c., yet the

success of their undertaking has fully evinced the vainness of their

attempt, and given ground to suspect they had not thoroughly weighed

what the genius of our language would bear, nor reflected that each

tongue has its peculiar beauties, and that what is agreeable and natural

to one, is very often disagreeable, nay, inconsistent with another. But

that design being now wholly exploded, it is sufficient to have

mentioned it.

Our verses, then, consist in a certain number of syllables; but the

verses of double rhyme require a syllable more than those of single

rhyme. Thus in a poem whose verses consist of ten syllables, those of

the same poem that are accented on the last save one, which we call

verses of double rhyme, must have eleven, as may be seen by these

verses:—

"A Man so various that he seem'd to be

Not one, but all Mankind's Epitome:

Stiff in Opinion, always in the Wrong,

Was ev'ry thing by starts, and nothing long;

But, in the Course of our revolving moon:

Was Fiddler, Chymist, Statesman and Buffoon:

Then all for Women, Painting, Rhyming, Drinking,

Besides Ten thousand Freaks that dy'd in Thinking,

Praising and Railing were his usual Themes,

And both, to shew his Judgment, in Extreams.

So over-violent, or over-civil,

That every Man with him was God or Devil."—_Dryden._

Where the four verses that are accented on the last save one have

eleven syllables, the others, accented on the last, but ten.

In a poem whose verses consist of eight, the double rhymes require nine;

as,

"When hard Words, Jealousies, and Fears,

Set Folks together by the ears;

And made 'em fight, like mad, or drunk,

For Dame Religion as for Punk;

Whose honesty they all durst swear for,

Tho' not a Man of 'em knew wherefore:

Then did Sir Knight abandon Duelling,

And out he rode a Colonelling."—_Hudibras._

In a poem whose verses consist of seven, the double rhymes require

eight; as,

"All thy verse is softer far

Than the downy Feathers are

Of my Wings, or of my Arrows,

Of my Mother's Doves or Sparrows."—_Cowley._

This must also be observed in blank verse; as,

"Welcome, thou worthy Partner of my Laurels!

Thou Brother of my Choice! A Band more sacred

Than Nature's brittle Tye. By holy Friendship!

Glory and Fame stood still for thy Arrival:

My Soul seem'd wanting of its better Half,

And languish'd for thy Absence like a Prophet,

Who waits the Inspiration of his God."—_Rowe._

And this verse of Milton,

"Void of all Succour and needful Comfort,"

wants a syllable; for, being accented on the last save one, it ought to

have eleven, as all the verses but two of the preceding example have.

But if we transpose the words thus,

"Of Succour and all needful Comfort void,"

it then wants nothing of its due measure, because it is accented on the

last syllable.

SECTION I.—_Of the several sorts of verses; and, first, of those of ten

syllables: of the due observation of the accents, and of the pause._

Our poetry admits for the most part but of three sorts of verses; that

is to say, of verses of ten, eight, or seven syllables. Those of four,

six, nine, eleven, twelve, and fourteen, are generally employed in masks

and operas, and in the stanzas of lyric and Pindaric odes, and we have

few entire poems composed in any of those sort of verses. Those of

twelve and fourteen syllables are frequently inserted in our poems in

heroic verse, and when rightly made use of, carry a peculiar grace with

them. See the next section towards the end.

The verses of ten syllables, which are our heroic, are used in heroic

poems, in tragedies, comedies, pastorals, elegies, and sometimes in

burlesque.

In these verses two things are chiefly to be considered:

1. The seat of the accent.

2. The pause.

For 'tis not enough that verses have their just number of syllables;

the true harmony of them depends on a due observation of the accent and

pause.

The accent is an elevation or a falling of the voice on a certain

syllable of a word.

The pause is a rest or stop that is made in pronouncing the verse, and

that divides it, as it were, into two parts; each of which is called an

hemistich, or half-verse.

But this division is not always equal, that is to say, one of the

half-verses does not always contain the same number of syllables as the

other. And this inequality proceeds from the seat of the accent that is

strongest, and prevails most in the first half-verse. For the pause must

be observed at the end of the word where such accents happen to be, or

at the end of the following word.

Now, in a verse of ten syllables this accent must be either on the

second, fourth, or sixth; which produces five several pauses, that is to

say, at the third, fourth, fifth, sixth or seventh syllable of the

verse:

For,

When it happens to be on the second, the pause will be either at the

third or fourth.

At the third in two manners:

1. When the syllable accented happens to be the last save one of a

word; as,

"As busy—as intentive Emmets are;

Or Cities—whom unlook'd for Sieges scare."—_Davenant._

2. Or when the accent is on the last of a word, and the next a

monosyllable, whose construction is governed by that on which the accent

is; as,

"Despise it,—and more noble Thoughts pursue."—_Dryden._

When the accent falls on the second syllable of the verse, and the last

save two of a word, the pause will be at the fourth; as,

"He meditates—his absent Enemy."—_Dryden._

When the accent is on the fourth of a verse, the pause will be either at

the same syllable, or at the fifth or sixth.

At the same, when the syllable of the accent happens to be the last of

a word; as,

"Such huge Extreams—inhabit thy great Mind,

God-like, unmov'd,—and yet, like Woman, kind."—_Waller._

At the fifth in two manners:

1. When it happens to be the last save one of a word; as,

"Like bright Aurora—whose refulgent Ray

Fortells the Feavour—of ensuing Day;

And warns the Shepherd—with his Flocks, retreat

To leafy Shadows—from the threaten'd Heat."—_Waller._

2. Or the last of the word, if the next be a monosyllable governed by

it; as,

"So fresh the Wound is—and the Grief so vast."—_Waller._

At the sixth, when the syllable of the accent happens to be the last

save two of a word; as,

"Those Seeds of Luxury,—Debate, and Pride."—_Waller._

Lastly, when the accent is on the sixth syllable of the verse, the pause

will be either at the same syllable or at the seventh.

At the same, when the syllable of the accent happens to be the last of a

word; as,

"She meditates Revenge—resolv'd to die."—_Waller._

At the seventh in two manners:

1. When it happens to be the last save one of a word; as,

"Nor when the War is over,—is it Peace."—_Dryden._

"Mirrors are taught to flatter,—but our Springs."—_Waller._

2. Or the last of a word, if the following one be a monosyllable whose

construction depends on the preceding word on which the accent is; as,

"And since he could not save her—with her dy'd."—_Dryden._

From all this it appears, that the pause is determined by the seat of

the accent; but if the accents happen to be equally strong on the

second, fourth, and sixth syllable of a verse, the sense and

construction of the words must then guide to the observation of the

pause. For example, in one of the verses I have cited as an instance of

it at the seventh syllable,

"Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our Springs."

The accent is as strong on _taught_, as on the first syllable of

_flatter_; and if the pause were observed at the fourth syllable of the

verse, it would have nothing disagreeable in its sound; as,

"Mirrors are taught—to flatter, but our Springs

Present th' impartial Images of things."

Which though it be no violence to the ear, yet it is to the sense, and

that ought always carefully to be avoided in reading or in repeating of

verses.

For this reason it is, that the construction or sense should never end

at a syllable where the pause ought not to be made; as at the eighth and

second in the two following verses:—

"Bright Hesper twinkles from afar:—Away

My Kids!—for you have had a Feast to Day."—_Stafford._

Which verses have nothing disagreeable in their structure but the pause,

which in the first of them must be observed at the eighth syllable, in

the second at the second; and so unequal a division can produce no true

harmony. And for this reason too, the pauses at the third and seventh

syllables, though not wholly to be condemned, ought to be but sparingly

practised.

The foregoing rules ought indispensably to be followed in all our

verses of ten syllables; and the observation of them, like that of right

time in music, will produce harmony; the neglect of them harshness and

discord; as appears by the following verses:—

"None think Rewards render'd worthy their Worth.

And both Lovers, both thy Disciples were."

In which, though the true number of syllables be observed, yet neither

of them have so much as the sound of a verse. Now their disagreeableness

proceeds from the undue seat of the accent. For example, the first of

them accented on the fifth and seventh syllables; but if we change the

words, and remove the accent to the fourth and sixth, the verse will

become smooth and easy; as,

"None think Rewards are equal to their Worth."

The harshness of the last of them proceeds from its being accented on

the third syllable, which may be mended thus, by transposing only one

word:

"And Lovers both, both thy Disciples were."

In like manner the following verses,

"To be massacred, not in Battle slain."—_Blac._

"But forc'd, harsh, and uneasy unto all."—_Cowley._

"Against the Insults of the Wind and Tide."—_Blac._

"A second Essay will the Pow'rs appease."—_Blac._

"With Scythians expert in the Dart and Bow."—_Dryden._

are rough, because the foregoing rules are not observed in their

structure; for example, the first where the pause is at the fifth

syllable, and the accent on the third, is contrary to the rule, which

says, that the accent that determines the pause must be on the second,

fourth, or sixth syllable of the verse; and to mend that verse we need

only place the accent on the fourth, and then the pause at the fifth

will have nothing disagreeable; as,

"Thus to be murther'd, not in Battle slain."

The second verse is accented on the third syllable, and the pause is

there too; which makes it indeed the thing it expresses, forced, harsh,

and uneasy; it may be mended thus:

"But forc'd and harsh, uneasy unto all."

The third, fourth, and fifth of those verses have like faults; for the

pauses are at the fifth, and the accent there too; which is likewise

contrary to the foregoing rules. Now they will be made smooth and

flowing, by taking the accent from the fifth, and removing the seat of

the pause; as,

"Against th' Insults both of the Wind and Tide

A second Tryal will the Pow'rs appease.

With Scythians skilful in the Dart and Bow."

From whence we conclude, that in all verses of ten syllables, the most

prevailing accents ought to be on the second, fourth, or sixth

syllables; for if they are on the third, fifth, or seventh, the verses

will be rough and disagreeable, as has been proved by the preceding

instances.

In short, the wrong placing of the accent is as great a fault in our

versification, as false quantity was in that of the ancients; and

therefore we ought to take equal care to avoid it, and endeavour so to

dispose the words that they may create a certain melody in the ear,

without labour to the tongue, or violence to the sense.

SECTION II.—_Of the other sorts of verses that are used in our poetry._

After the verses of ten syllables those of eight are most frequent,

and we have many entire poems composed in them.

In the structure of these verses, as well as of those of ten

syllables, we must take care that the most prevailing accents be neither

on the third nor fifth syllables of them.

They also require a pause to be observed in pronouncing them, which is

generally at the fourth or fifth syllable; as,

"I'll sing of Heroes,—and of Kings,

In mighty Numbers—mighty things;

Begin, my Muse,—but to the Strings,

To my great Song—rebellious prove,

The Strings will sound—of nought but Love."—_Cowley._

The verses of seven syllables, which are called anacreontic, are most

beautiful when the strongest accent is on the third, and the pause

either there or at the fourth; as,

"Fill the Bowl—with rosy Wine,

Round our Temples—Roses twine

Crown'd with Roses—we contemn

Gyges' wealthy—Diadem."—_Cowley._

The verses of nine and of eleven syllables, are of two sorts; one is

those that are accented upon the last save one, which are only the

verses of double rhyme that belong to those of eight and ten syllables,

of which examples have already been given. The other of those that are

accented on the last syllable, which are employed only in compositions

for music, and in the lowest sort of burlesque poetry; the

disagreeableness of their measure having wholly excluded them from grave

and serious subjects. They who desire to see examples of them may find

some scattered here and there in our masks and operas, and in the

burlesque writers. I will give but two:

"Hylas, O Hylas, why sit we mute?

Now that each Bird saluteth the Spring."—_Waller._

"Apart let me view then each Heavenly Fair,

For three at a time there's no Mortal can bear."—_Congreve._

The verses of twelve syllables are truly heroic both in their measure

and sound, though we have no entire works composed in them; and they are

so far from being a blemish to the poems they are in, that on the

contrary, when rightly employed, they conduce not a little to the

ornament of them; particularly in the following rencontres:—

1. When they conclude an episode in an heroic poem. Thus Stafford ends

his translation of that of Camilla from the eleventh Æneid with a verse

of twelve syllables:

"The ling'ring Soul th' unwelcome Doom receives,

And, murm'ring with Disdain, the beauteous Body leaves."

2. When they conclude a triplet and full sense together; as,

"Millions of op'ning Mouths to Fame belong; }

And every Mouth is furnish'd with a Tongue; }

And round with list'ning Ears the flying Plague is hung." }

—_Dryden._

And here we may observe by the way, that whenever a triplet is made use

of in an heroic poem, it is a fault not to close the sense at the end of

the triplet, but to continue it into the next line; as Dryden has done

in his translation of the eleventh Æneid, in these lines:

"With Olives crown'd, the Presents they shall bear, }

A Purple Robe, a Royal Iv'ry Chair, }

And all the Marks of Sway that Latian Monarchs wear, }

And Sums of Gold," &c. }

And in the seventh Æneid he has committed the like fault:

"Then they, whose Mothers, frantick with their Fear, }

In Woods and Wilds the Flags of Bacchus bear, }

And lead his Dances with dishevell'd Hair, }

Increase thy Clamours," &c. }

But the sense is not confined to the couplet, for the close of it may

fall into the middle of the next verse, that is, the third, and

sometimes farther off, provided the last verse of the couplet exceed not

the number of ten syllables; for then the sense ought always to conclude

with it. Examples of this are so frequent, that it is needless to give

any.

3. When they conclude the stanzas of lyric or Pindaric odes; examples

of which are often seen in Dryden, and others.

In these verses the pause ought to be at the sixth syllable, as may be

seen in the foregoing examples.

We sometimes find it, though very rarely, at the seventh; as,

"That such a cursed Creature—lives so long a Space."

When it is at the fourth, the verse will be rough and hobbling; as,

"And Midwife Time—the ripen'd Plot to Murther brought."

—_Dryden._

"The Prince pursu'd,—and march'd along with great equal Pace."

—_Dryden._

In the last of which it is very apparent, that if the sense and

construction would allow us to make the pause at the sixth syllable,

"The Prince pursu'd, and march'd—along with equal pace,"

the verse would be much more flowing and easy.

The verses of fourteen syllables are less frequent than those of

twelve; they are likewise inserted in heroic poems, &c., and are

agreeable enough when they conclude a triplet and sense, and follow a

verse of twelve; as,

"For Thee the Land in fragrant Flowers is drest; }

For thee the Ocean smiles, and smooths her wavy Breast, }

And Heav'n itself with more serene and purer Light is blest." }

—_Dryden._

But if they follow one of ten syllables, the inequality of the measure

renders them less agreeable; as,

"While all thy Province, Nature, I survey, }

And sing to Memmius an immortal Lay }

Of Heav'n and Earth; and everywhere thy wonderous Pow'r display." }

—_Dryden._

Especially if it be the last of a couplet only; as,

"With Court-Informer's Haunts, and Royal Spies,

Things done relates, not done she feigns, and mingles Truth

with Lies."

—_Dryden._

But this is only in heroics; for in their Pindarics and lyrics, verses

of twelve or fourteen syllables are frequently and gracefully placed,

not only after those of twelve or ten, but of any other number of

syllables whatsoever.

The verses of four and six syllables have nothing worth observing, and

therefore I shall content myself with having made mention of them. They

are, as I said before, used only in operas and masks, and in lyric and

Pindaric odes. Take one example of them:—

"To rule by love,

To shed no Blood,

May be extoll'd above;

But here below,

Let Princes know,

'Tis fatal to be good."

—_Dryden_.

SECTION III.—_Several rules conducing to the beauty of our

versification._

Our poetry being very much polished and refined since the days of

Chaucer, Spenser, and the other ancient poets, some rules which they

neglected, and that conduce very much to the ornaments of it, have been

practised by the best of the moderns.

The first is to avoid as much as possible the concourse of vowels,

which occasions a certain ill-sounding gaping, called by the Latins

_hiatus_; and which they thought so disagreeable to the ear, that, to

avoid it, whenever a word ended in a vowel, and the next began with one,

they never, even in prose, sounded the vowel of the first word, but lost

it in the pronunciation; and it is a fault in our poets not to do the

like, whenever our language will admit of it.

For this reason the _e_ of the particle the ought always to be cut off

before the words that begin with a vowel; as,

"With weeping Eyes she heard th' unwelcome News."—_Dryden._

And it is a fault to make the and the first syllable of the following

word two distinct syllables, as in this,

"Restrain'd a while by the unwelcome Night."—_Waller._

A second sort of hiatus, and that ought no less to be avoided, is when

a word that ends in a vowel that cannot be cut off, is placed before one

that begins with the same vowel, or one that has the like sound; as,

"Should thy Iambicks swell into a Book."—_Waller._

The second rule is, to contract the two last syllables of the

preterperfect tenses of all the verbs that will admit of it; which are

all the regular verbs whatsoever, except only those ending in _d_ or

_t_, and _de_ or _te_. And it is a fault to make amazed of three

syllables, and loved of two, instead of amazed of two, and loved of one.

And the second person of the present and preterperfect tenses of all

verbs ought to be contracted in like manner; as thou lov'st, for thou

lovest, &c.

The third rule is, not to make use of several words in a verse that

begin with the same letter; as,

"The Court he knew to Steer in Storms of State,

He in these Miracles Design discern'd."

Yet we find an instance of such a verse in Dryden's translation of the

first pastoral of Virgil:

"Till then a helpless, hopeless, homely swain."

Which I am persuaded he left not thus through negligence or

inadvertency, but with design to paint in the number and sound of the

words the thing he described—a shepherd in whom

"Nec spes libertatis erat, nec cura peculi."

Now how far the sound of the _h_ aspirate, with which three feet of that

verse begin, expresses the despair of the swain, let the judicious

judge. I have taken notice of it only to say, that it is a great beauty

in poetry, when the words and numbers are so disposed, as by their order

and sound to represent the things described.

The fourth is, to avoid ending a verse by an adjective whose

substantive begins the following; as,

"Some lost their quiet Rivals, some their kind

Parents," &c.—_Davenant._

Or, by a preposition when the case it governs begins the verse that

follows; as,

"The daily less'ning of our life, shews by

A little dying, how outright to dye."

The fifth is, to avoid the frequent use of words of many syllables,

which are proper enough in prose, but come not into verse without a

certain violence altogether disagreeable; particularly those whose

accent is on the fourth syllable from the last, as undutifulness.

SECTION IV.—_Doubts concerning the number of syllables of certain

words._

There is no language whatsoever that so often joins several vowels

together to make diphthongs of them, as ours; this appears in our having

several composed of three different vowels, as _eau_ and _eou_ in

beauteous, _iou_ in glorious, _uai_ in acquaint, &c.

Now from hence may arise some difficulties concerning the true

pronunciation of those vowels, whether they ought to be founded

separately in two syllables, or jointly in one.

The ancient poets made them sometimes of two syllables, sometimes but

of one, as the measure of their verse required; but they are now become

to be but of one, and it is a fault to make them of two: from whence we

may draw this general rule:—That whenever one syllable of a word ends in

a vowel, and the next begins with one, provided the first of those

syllables be not that on which the word is accented, those two syllables

ought in verse to be contracted and made but one.

Thus beauteous is but two syllables, victorious but three; and it is a

fault in Dryden to make it four, as he has done in this verse:

"Your arms are on the Rhine victorious."

To prove that this verse wants a syllable of its due measure, we need

but add one to it; as,

"Your arms are on the Rhine victorious now."

Where, though the syllable _now_ be added to the verse, it has no more

than its due number of syllables; which plainly proves it wanted it.

But if the accent be upon the first of these syllables, they cannot be

contracted to make a diphthong, but must be computed as two distinct

syllables: thus poet, lion, quiet, and the like, must always be used as

two syllables; poetry, and the like, as three. And it is a fault to make

riot, for example, one syllable, as Milton has done in this verse,

"Their Riot ascends above the lofty Tow'rs."

The same poet has in another place made use of a like word twice in

one verse, and made it two syllables each time;

"With Ruin upon Ruin, Rout on Rout."

And any ear may discover that this last verse has its true measure, the

other not.

But there are some words that may be excepted; as diamond, violet,

violent, diadem, hyacinth, and perhaps some others, which, though they

are accented upon the first vowel, are sometimes used but as two

syllables; as in the following verses:—

"From Diamond Quarries hewn, and Rocks of Gold."—_Milton._

"With Poppies, Daffadils, and Violets join'd."—_Tate._

"With vain, but violent force their Darts they flung."—_Cowley._

"His Ephod, Mitre, well-cut Diadem on."—_Cowley._

"My blushing Hyacinths, and my Bays I keep."—_Dryden._

Sometimes as three; as,

"A Mount of Rocky Diamond did rise."—_Blac._

"Hence the blue Violet and blushing Rose."—_Blac._

"And set soft Hyacinths of Iron blue."—_Dryden._

When they are used but as two syllables they suffer an elision of one

of their vowels, and are generally written thus, di'mond, vi'let, &c.

This contraction is not always made of syllables of the same word

only; for the particle _a_ being placed after a word that ends in a

vowel, will sometimes admit of the like contraction; for example, after

the word many; as,

"Tho' many a victim from my Folds was bought,

And many a Cheese to Country Markets brought."—_Dryden._

"They many a Trophy gain'd with many a Wound."—_Davenant._

After _to_; as,

"Can he to a Friend, to a Son so bloody grow?"—_Cowley._

After _they_; as,

"From thee, their long-known King, they a King desire."—_Cowley._

After _by_; as,

"When we by a foolish Figure say."—_Cowley._

And perhaps after some others.

There are also other words whose syllables are sometimes contracted,

sometimes not; as bower, heaven, prayer, nigher, towards, and many more

of the like nature, but they generally ought to be used but as one

syllable; and then they suffer an elision of the vowel that precedes

their final consonant, and ought to be written thus, bow'r, heav'n,

pray'r, nigh'r, tow'rds.

The termination _ism_ is always used but as one syllable; as,

"Where grisly Schism and raging Strife appear."—_Cowley._

"And Rheumatisms I send to rack the Joynts."—_Dryden._

And, indeed, considering that it has but one vowel, it may seem absurd

to assert that it ought to be reckoned two syllables; yet in my opinion

those verses seem to have a syllable more than their due measure, and

would run better if we took one from them; as,

"Where grisly Schism, raging Strife appear,"

"I Rheumatisms send to rack the Joynts."

Yet this opinion being contrary to the constant practice of our poets, I

shall not presume to advance it as a rule for others to follow, but

leave it to be decided by such as are better judges of poetical numbers.

The like may be said of the terminations _asm_ and _osm_.

SECTION V.—_Of the elisions that are allowed in our versification._

In verses consisting only of a certain number of syllables, nothing

can be of more ease, or greater use to poets, than the retaining or

cutting off a syllable from a verse, according as the measure of it

requires; and therefore it is requisite to treat of the elisions that

are allowable in our poetry, some of which have been already taken

notice of in the preceding section.

By elision I mean the cutting off one or more letters from a word,

whereby two syllables come to be contracted into one, or the taking away

an entire syllable. Now when in a word of more than two syllables, which

is accented on the last save two, the liquid _r_ happens to be between

two vowels, that which precedes the liquid admits of an elision. Of this

nature are many words in _ance_, _ence_, _ent_, _er_, _ous_, and _ry_;

as temperance, preference, different, flatterer, amorous, victory: which

are words of three syllables, and often used as such in verse; but they

may be also contracted into two by cutting off the vowel that precedes

the liquid, as temp'rance, pref'rence, diff'rent, flatt'rer, am'rous,

vict'ry. The like elision is sometimes used when any of the other

liquids _l_, _m_, or _n_, happen to be between two vowels in words

accented like the former; as fabulous, enemy, mariner, which may be

contracted fab'lous, en'my, mar'ner. But this is not so frequent.

Observe, that I said accented on the last save two; for if the word be

accented on the last save one, that is to say, on the vowel that

precedes the liquid, that vowel may not be cut off. And therefore it is

a fault to make, for example, sonorous two syllables, as in this verse;

"With Son'rous Metals wak'd the drowsy Day."—_Blac._

Which always ought to be three, as in this,

"Sonorous Metals blowing martial sounds."—_Milton._

In like manner, whenever the letter _s_ happens to be between two vowels

in words of three syllables, accented on the first, one of the vowels

may be cut off; as pris'ner, bus'ness, &c.

Or the letter _c_ when it is sounded like _s_; that is to say, whenever

it precedes the vowel _e_ or _i_; as med'cine for medicine. Or _v_

consonant, as cov'nant for covenant.

To these may be added the gerunds of all verbs whose infinities end in

any of the liquids, preceded by a vowel or a diphthong, and that are

accented on the last save one; for the gerunds being formed by adding

the syllable _ing_ to the infinitive, the liquid that was their final

letter comes thereby to be between two vowels; and the accent that was

on the last save one of the infinitive, comes to be on the last save two

of the gerunds: and therefore the vowel or diphthong that precedes the

liquid may be cut off; by means whereof the gerund of three syllables

comes to be but of two; as from travel, travelling, or trav'ling; from

endeavour, endeavouring, or endeav'ring, &c.

But if the accent be on the last syllable of such a verb, its gerund

will not suffer such an elision. Thus the gerund of devour must always

be three syllables, devouring, not dev'ring; because all derivatives

still retain the accent of their primitives, that is, on the same

syllable; and the accent always obliges the syllable on which it is to

remain entire.

The gerunds of the verbs in _ow_, accented on the last save two, suffer

an elision of the _o_ that precedes the _w_; as foll'wing, wall'wing.

The particle _it_ admits of an elision of its vowel before it was, were,

will, would; as 'tis, 'twas, 'twere, 'twill, 'twould, for it is, it was,

&c.

It likewise sometimes suffers the like elision when placed after a word

that ends in a vowel; as by't for by it, do't for do it; or that ends in

a consonant after which the letter _t_ can be pronounced; as was't for

was it, in't for in it, and the like. But this is not so frequent in

heroic verse.

The particle _is_ may lose its _i_ after any word that ends in a vowel,

or in any of the consonants after which the letter _s_ may be sounded;

as she's for she is, the air's for the air is, &c.

To (sign of the infinitive mood) may lose its _o_ before any verb that

begins with a vowel; as t'maze, t'undo, &c.

To (sign of the dative case) may likewise lose its _o_ before any noun

that begins with a vowel; as t'air, t'every, &c. But this elision is not

so allowable as the former.

Are may lose its _a_ after the pronouns personal, we, you, they; as

we're, you're, they're. And thus it is that this elision ought to be

made, and not, as some do, by cutting off the final vowels of the

pronouns personal, w'are, y'are, th'are.

Will and would may lose all their first letters, and retain only their

final one, after any of the pronouns personal; as I'll for I will, he'd

for he would; or after who, who'll for who will, who'd for who would.

Have may lose its two first letters after I, you, we, they; as I've,

you've, we've, they've.

Not, its two first letters after can; as can't for cannot.

Am, its _a_ after _i_; I'm for I am.

Us, its _u_ after let; let's for let us.

Taken, its _k_, ta'en; for so it ought to be written, not ta'ne.

Heaven, seven, even, eleven, and the participles driven, given, thriven,

and their compounds, may lose their last vowel; as heav'n, forgiv'n, &c.

See the foregoing section.

To these may be added, bow'r, pow'r, flow'r, tow'r, show'r, for bower,

tower, &c.

Never, ever, over, may lose their _v_, and are contracted thus, ne'er,

e'er, o'er.

Some words admit of an elision of their first syllable; as 'tween,

'twixt, 'mong, 'mongst, 'gainst, 'bove, 'cause, 'fore, for between,

betwixt, among, amongst, against, above, because, before, and some

others that may be observed in reading our poets.

I have already, in the third section of this chapter, spoken of the

elision of the _e_ of the particle the before vowels; but it is

requisite likewise to take notice, that it sometimes loses its vowel

before a word that begins with a consonant, and then its two remaining

letters are joined to the preceding word; as to th' wall for to the

wall, by th' wall for by the wall, &c., but this is scarcely allowable

in heroic poetry.

The particles in, of, and on, sometimes lose their consonants, and are

joined to the particle the in like manner, as i'th', o'th', for in the,

of the.

In some of our poets we find the pronoun his loses its two first letters

after any word that ends in a vowel; as to's, by's, &c., for to his, by

his, &c.; or after many words that end in a consonant, after which the

letter _s_ can be pronounced; as in's, for's, for in his, for his, &c.

This is frequent in Cowley, who often takes too great liberty in his

contractions; as t'your for to your, t'which for to which, and many

others; in which we must be cautious in following his example, but the

contracting of the pronoun his in the manner I mentioned is not wholly

to be condemned.

We sometimes find the word who contracted before words that begin with a

vowel; as,

"Wh' expose to Scorn and Hate both them and it."—_Cowley._

And the preposition in like manner; as,

"B' unequal Fate and Providence's Crime."—_Dryden._

"Well did he know how Palms b' Oppression speed."—_Cowley._

And the pronouns personal, he, she, they, we; as,

"Timely h' obeys her wise Advice, and strait

To unjust Force sh' opposes just Deceit."—_Cowley._

"Themselves at first against themselves th' excite."—_Cowley._

"Shame and Woe to us, if w' our Wealth obey."—_Cowley._

But these and the like contractions are very rare in our most correct

poets, and indeed ought wholly to be avoided, for 'tis a general rule

that no vowel can be cut off before another, when it cannot be sunk in

the pronunciation of it: and therefore we ought to take care never to

place a word that begins with a vowel after a word that ends in one

(mute _e_ only excepted), unless the final vowel of the former can be

lost in its pronunciation, for to leave two vowels opening on each

other, causes a very disagreeable hiatus. Whenever therefore a vowel

ends a word, the next ought to begin with a consonant, or what is

equivalent to it; as our _w_ and _h_ aspirate plainly are.

For which reason it is a fault in some of our poets to cut off the _e_

of the particle the; for example, before a word that begins by an _h_

aspirate; as,

"And th' hasty Troops march'd loud and cheerful down."—_Cowley._

But if the _h_ aspirate be followed by another _e_, that of the particle

the may be cut off; as,

"Th' Heroick Prince's Courage or his love."—_Waller._

Th' Hesperian Fruit, and made the Dragon sleep."—_Waller._

CHAPTER II.

OF RHYME.

SECTION I.—_What rhyme is, and the several sorts of it._

Rhyme is a likeness or uniformity of sound in the terminations of two

words. I say of sound, not of letters; for the office of rhyme being to

content and please the ear, and not the eye, the sound only is to be

regarded, not the writing: thus maid and persuade, laugh and quaff,

though they differ in writing, rhyme very well: but plough and cough,

though their terminations are written alike, rhyme not at all.

In our versification we may observe three several sorts of rhyme:

single, double, and treble.

The single rhyme is of two sorts: one, of the words that are accented on

the last syllable; another, of those that have their accent on the last

save two.

The words accented on the last syllable, if they end in a consonant, or

mute _e_, oblige the rhyme to begin at the vowel that precedes their

last consonant, and to continue to the end of the word. In a consonant;

as,

"Here might be seen, the Beauty, Wealth, and Wit,

And Prowess, to the Pow'r of Love submit."

—_Dryden._

In mute _e_; as,

"A Spark of Virtue, by the deepest Shade

Of sad Adversity, is fairer made."

—_Waller._

But if a diphthong precede the last consonant the rhyme must begin at

that vowel of it whose sound most prevails; as,

"Next to the Pow'r of making Tempest cease,

Was in that storm to have so calm a Peace."

—_Waller._

If the words accented on the last syllable end in any of the vowels,

except mute _e_, or in a diphthong, the rhyme is made only to that vowel

or diphthong. To the vowel; as,

"So wing'd with Praise we penetrate the Sky,

Teach Clouds and Stars to praise him as we fly."—_Waller._

To the diphthong; as,

"So hungry Wolves, tho' greedy of their Prey,

Stop when they find a Lion in the Way."—_Waller._

The other sort of single rhyme is of the words that have their accent

on the last syllable save two, and these rhyme to the other in the same

manner as the former; that is to say, if they end in any of the vowels,

except mute _e_, the rhyme is made only to that vowel; as,

"So seems to speak the youthful Deity;

Voice, Colour, Hair, and all like Mercury."—_Waller._

But if they end in a consonant or mute _e_, the rhyme must begin at the

vowel that precedes that consonant, and continue to the end of the word;

as has been shewn by the former examples.

But we must take notice, that all the words that are accented on the

last save two, will rhyme not only to one another, but also to all the

words whose terminations have the same sound, though they are accented

on the last syllable. Thus tenderness rhymes not only to poetess,

wretchedness, and the like, that are accented on the last save two, but

also to confess, excess, &c., that are accented on the last; as,

"Thou art my Father now these Words confess That Name, and that

indulgent Tenderness."—_Dryden._

SECTION II.—_Of double and treble rhyme._

All words that are accented on the last save one, require rhyme to begin

at the vowel of that syllable, and to continue to the end of the word;

and this is what we call double rhyme; as,

"Then all for Women, Painting, Rhyming, Drinking,

Besides ten thousands Freaks that dy'd in Thinking."—_Dryden._

But it is convenient to take notice, that the ancient poets did not

always observe this rule, and took care only that the last syllables of

the words should be alike in sound without any regard to the seat of the

accent. Thus nation and affection, tenderness and hapless, villany and

gentry, follow and willow, and the like, were allowed as rhymes to each

other in the days of Chaucer, Spenser, and the rest of the ancients; but

this is now become a fault in our versification; and these two verses of

Cowley rhyme not at all,

"A dear and lively Brown was Merab's Dye;

Such as the proudest Colours might envy."

Nor these of Dryden,

"Thus Air was void of Light, and Earth unstable,

And Waters dark Abyss unnavigable."

Because we may not place an accent on the last syllable of envy, nor

on the last save one of unnavigable; which nevertheless we must be

obliged to do, if we make the first of them rhyme to dye, the last to

unstable.

But we may observe, that in burlesque poetry it is permitted to place

an accent upon a syllable that naturally has none; as,

"When Pulpit, Drum Ecclesiastick,

Was beat with Fist instead of a Stick."

Where, unless we pronounce the particle _a_ with a strong accent upon

it, and make it sound like the vowel _a_ in the last syllable but one of

ecclesiastic, the verse will lose all its beauty and rhyme. But this is

allowable in burlesque poetry only.

Observe that these double rhymes may be composed of two several words,

provided the accent be on the last syllable of the first of them; as

these verses of Cowley, speaking of gold,

"A Curse on him who did refine it,

A Curse on him who first did coin it."

Or some of the verses may end in an entire word, and the rhyme to it be

composed of several; as,

"Tho' stor'd with Deletery Med'cines

Which whosoever took is dead since."—_Hudibras._

The treble rhyme is very seldom used, and ought wholly to be exploded

from serious subjects; for it has a certain flatness unworthy the

gravity required in heroic verse. In which Dryden was of opinion, that

even the double rhymes ought very cautiously to find place; and in all

his translations of Virgil he has made use of none, except only in such

words as admit of a contraction, and therefore cannot properly be said

to be double rhymes; as giv'n, driv'n, tow'r, pow'r, and the like. And

indeed, considering their measure is indifferent from that of a heroic

verse, which consists but of ten syllables, they ought not to be too

frequently used in heroic poems; but they are very graceful in the

lyric, to which, as well as to the burlesque, those rhymes more properly

belong.

SECTION III.—_Further instructions concerning rhyme._

The consonants that precede the vowels where the rhyme begins, must be

different in sound, and not the same; for then the rhyme will be too

perfect; as light, delight; vice, advice, and the like; for though such

rhymes were allowable in the days of Spenser and the other old poets,

they are not so now, nor can there be any music in one single note.

Cowley himself owns, that they ought not to be allowed except in

Pindaric odes, which is a sort of free poetry, and there too very

sparingly and not without a third rhyme to answer to both; as,

"In barren Age wild and inglorious lye,

And boast of past Fertility,

The poor relief of present Poverty."—_Cowley._

Where the words fertility and poverty rhyme very well to the last word

of the first verse, lye; but cannot rhyme to each other, because the

consonants that precede the last vowels are the same, both in writing

and sound.

But this is yet less allowable, if the accent be on the last syllable

of the rhyme; as,

"Her Language melts Omnipotence, arrests

His hand, and thence the vengeful Light'ning wrests."—_Blac._

From hence it follows, that a word cannot rhyme to itself though the

signification be different; as, he leaves to the leaves, &c.

Nor the words that differ both in writing and sense, if they have the

same sound, as maid and made, prey and pray, to bow and a bough; as,

"How gaudy Fate may be in Presents sent,

And creep insensible by Touch or Scent."—_Oldham._

Nor a compound to its simple; as move to remove, taught to untaught, &c.

Nor the compounds of the same words to one another, as disprove to

approve, and the like. All which proceeds from what I said before, viz.,

that the consonants that precede the vowels where the rhyme begins, must

not be the same in sound, but different. In all which we vary from our

neighbours; for neither the French, Italians, nor Spaniards, will allow,

that a rhyme can be too perfect; and we meet with frequent examples in

their poetry, where not only the compounds rhyme to their simples, and

to themselves, but even where words written and pronounced exactly

alike, provided they have a different signification, are made use of as

rhymes to another. But this is not permitted in our poetry.

We must take care not to place a word at the middle of a verse that

rhymes to the last word of it; as,

"So young in show, as if he still should grow."

But this fault is still more inexcusable, if the second verse rhyme to

the middle and end of the first; as,

"Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught,

As if for him Knowledge had rather sought."—_Cowley._

"Here Passion sways, but there the Muse shall raise

Eternal Monuments of louder Praise."—_Waller._

Or both the middle and end of the second to the last word of the

first; as,

"Farewell, she cry'd, my Sister, thou dear Part,

Thou sweetest Part of my divided Heart."—_Dryden._

Where the tenderness of expression will not atone for the jingle.

CHAPTER III.

OF THE SEVERAL SORTS OF POEMS, OR COMPOSITION IN VERSE.

All our poems may be divided into two sorts: the first are those

composed in couplets; the second those that are composed in stanzas,

consisting of several verses.

SECTION I.—_Of the poems composed in couplets._

In the poems composed in couplets, the rhymes follow one another, and

end at each couplet; that is to say, the second verse rhymes to the

first, the fourth to the third, the sixth to the fifth, and in like

manner to the end of the poem.

The verses employed in this sort of poems are either verses of ten

syllables; as,

"Oh! could I flow like thee, and make thy Stream

My great Example, as it is my Theme;

Tho' dark yet clear; tho' gentle, yet not dull;

Strong without Rage; without o'erflowing full."—_Denham._

Or of eight; as,

"O fairest Piece of well-form'd Earth,

Why urge you thus your haughty Birth?

The Pow'r, which you have o'er us lies,

Not in your Race, but in your Eyes.

Smile but on me, and you shall scorn

Henceforth to be of Princes born:

I can describe the shady Grove,

Where your lov'd Mother slept with Jove:

And yet excuse the faultless Dame,

Caught with her Spouse's Shape and Name:

Thy matchless Form will credit bring,

To all the Wonders I shall sing."—_Waller._

Or of seven; as,

"Phillis, why should we delay

Pleasures shorter than the Day?

Could we, which we never can,

Stretch our Lives beyond their Span,

Beauty like a Shadow flies,

And our Youth before us dies.

Or would Youth and Beauty stay,

Love has Wings, and will away.

Love has swifter Wings than Time."

But the second verse of the couplet does not always contain a like

number of syllables with the first; as,

"What shall I do to be for ever known,

And make the Age to come my own?

I shall like Beast and common People die,

Unless you write my Elegy."

SECTION II.—_Of the poems composed in stanzas;

and first, of the stanzas consisting of three and of four verses._

In the poems composed of stanzas, each stanza contains a certain number

of verses, consisting for the most part of a different number of

syllables; and a poem that consists of several stanzas we generally call

an ode; and this is lyric poetry.

But we must not forget to observe, that our ancient poets frequently

made use of intermixed rhyme in their heroic poems, which they disposed

into stanzas and cantos. Thus the "Troilus and Cressida" of Chaucer is

composed in stanzas consisting of seven verses; the "Fairy Queen" of

Spenser in stanzas of nine, &c.; and this they took from the Italians,

whose heroic poems generally consist in stanzas of eight. But this is

now wholly laid aside, and Davenant, who composed his "Gondibert" in

stanzas of four verses in alternate rhyme, was the last that followed

their example of intermingling rhymes in heroic poetry.

The stanzas employed in our poetry cannot consist of less than three,

and are seldom of more than twelve verses, except in Pindaric odes,

where the stanzas are different from one another in number of verses, as

shall be shown.

But to treat of all the different stanzas that are employed or may be

admitted in our poetry would be a labour no less tedious than useless;

it being easy to demonstrate that they may be varied almost to an

infinity, that would be different from one another, either in the number

of the verses of each stanza, or in the number of the syllables of each

verse; or, lastly, in the various intermingling of the rhyme. I shall

therefore confine myself to mention only such as are most frequently

used by the best of our modern poets. And first of the stanzas

consisting of three verses.

In the stanzas of three verses, or triplets, the verses of each stanza

rhyme to one another, and are either heroic; as,

"Nothing, thou elder Brother even to Shade! }

Thou hadst a Being ere the World was made, }

And (well fix'd) art alone of ending not afraid."—_Rochester._ }

Or else they consist of eight syllables; as these of Waller, "Of a fair

lady playing with a snake,"

"Strange that such Horror and such Grace }

Should dwell together in one Place, }

A Fairy's Arm, an Angel's Face." }

Nor do the verses of the stanzas always contain a like number of

syllables; for the first and third may have ten, the second but eight;

as,

"Men without Love have oft so cunning grown, }

That something like it they have shown, }

But none who had it, ever seem'd t'have none." }

"Love's of a strangely open, simple Kind, }

Can no Arts or Disguises find; }

But thinks none sees it, 'cause itself is blind."—_Cowley._ }

In the stanzas of four verses, the rhyme may be intermixed in two

different manners; for either the first and third verse may rhyme to

each other, and by consequence the second and fourth, and this is called

alternate rhyme; or the first and fourth may rhyme, and by consequence

the second and third.

But there are some poems, in stanzas of four verses, where the rhymes

follow one another, and the verses differ in number of syllables only;

as in Cowley's "Hymn to the Light," which begins thus—

"First-born of Chaos! who so fair didst come

From the old Negro's darksome Womb:

Which, when it saw the lovely Child,

The melancholy Mass put on kind Looks and smil'd."

But these stanzas are generally in alternate rhyme, and the verses

either consist of ten syllables; as,

"She ne'er saw Courts, but Courts could have undone

With untaught Looks and an unpractis'd Heart:

Her nets the most prepar'd could never shun;

For Nature spread them in the scorn of Art."—_Davenant._

Or of eight; as,

"Had Echo with so sweet a Grace,

Narcissus loud Complaint return'd:

Not for Reflection of his Face,

But of his Voice the Boy had burn'd."—_Waller._

Or of ten and eight, that is to say, the first and third of ten, the

second and fourth of eight; as,

"Love from Time's Wings has stol'n the Feathers sure

He has, and put them to his own:

For Hours of late as long as Days endure,

And very Minutes Hours are grown."—_Cowley._

Or of eight and six in the like manner; as,

"Then ask not Bodies doom'd to die,

To what Abode they go:

Since Knowledge is but Sorrow's Spy,

'Tis better not to know."—_Davenant._

Or of seven; as,

"Not the silver Doves that fly,

Yoak'd in Cythera's Car;

Nor the Wings that lift so high,

And convey her Son so far,

Are so lovely sweet and fair,

Or do more ennoble Love;

Are so choicely match'd a Pair,

Or with more consent do move."—_Waller._

_Note._—That it is absolutely necessary that both the construction and

sense should end with the stanza, and not fall into the beginning of the

following one as it does in the last example, which is a fault wholly to

be avoided.

SECTION III.—_Of the stanzas of six verses._

The stanzas of six verses are generally only one of the

before-mentioned quadrans or stanzas of four verses, with two verses at

the end, that rhyme to one another; as,

"A rural Judge dispos'd of Beauty's Prize,

A simple Shepherd was preferr'd to Jove:

Down to the Mountains from the Partial Skies,

Came Juno, Pallas, and, the Queen of Love,

To plead for that which was so justly giv'n,

To the bright Carlisle of the Courts of Heaven."

Where the four first verses are only a quadran, and consist of ten

syllables, each in alternate rhyme.

The following stanza, in like manner, is composed of a quadran, whose

verses consist of eight syllables, and to which two verses that rhyme to

one another are added to the end; as,

"Hope waits upon the flow'ry Prime,

And Summer, tho' it be less gay,

Yet is not look'd on as a Time

Of Declination and Decay;

For with a full Hand that does bring

All that was promis'd by the Spring."—_Waller._

Sometimes the quadran ends the stanza, and the two lines of the same

rhyme begin it; as,

"Here's to thee, Dick; this whining Love despise;

Pledge me my Friend, and drink till thou be'st wise.

It sparkles brighter far than she;

'Tis pure and right without Deceit;

And such no Woman e'er can be:

No; they are all sophisticate."—_Cowley._

Or as in these, where the first and last verse of the stanza consist

of ten syllables,

"When Chance or cruel Bus'ness parts us two,

What do our Souls, I wonder, do?

While Sleep does our dull Bodies tie,

Methinks at Home they should not stay,

Content with Dreams, but boldly fly

Abroad, and meet each other half the way."—_Cowley._

Or as in the following stanza, where the fourth and fifth verses rhyme

to each other, and the third and sixth,

"While what I write I do not see,

I dare thus ev'n to you write Poetry.

Ah! foolish Muse! thou dost so high aspire,

And knows't her judgment well,

How much it does thy Pow'r excel;

Yet dar'st be read by thy just Doom the Fire."—_Cowley._

(Written in Juice of Lemon.)

But in some of these stanzas the rhymes follow one another; as,

"Take heed, take heed, thou lovely Maid,

Nor be by glitt'ring Ills betray'd:

Thyself for Money! Oh! let no Man know

The Price of Beauty fall'n so low.

What Dangers ought'st thou not to dread,

When Love, that's blind, is by blind Fortune led?"—_Cowley._

Lastly, some of these stanzas are composed of two triplets; as,

"The Lightning which tall Oaks oppose in vain,

To strike sometimes does not disdain

The humble Furzes of the Plain.

She being so high and I so low,

Her Pow'r by this does greater show,

Who at such Distance gives so sure a blow."—_Cowley._

SECTION IV.—_Of the stanzas of eight verses._

I have already said that the Italians compose their heroic poems in

stanzas of eight verses, where the rhyme is disposed as follows: The

first, third, and fifth verses rhyme to one another, and the second,

fourth, and sixth, the two last always rhyme to each other. Now our

translators of their heroic poems have observed the same stanza and

disposition of rhyme, of which take the following example from Fairfax's

translation of Tasso's "Goffredo," cant. 1, stan. 3,

"Thither thou know'st the World is best inclin'd,

Where luring Parnass most his Beams imparts;

And Truth, convey'd in verse of gentlest Kind,

To read sometimes will move the dullest Hearts;

So we, if Children young diseas'd we find,

Anoint with Sweets the Vessel's foremost parts,

To make them take the Potions sharp we give;

They drink deceiv'd, and so deceiv'd they live."

But our poets seldom employ this stanza in compositions of their own;

where the following stanza of eight verses are most frequent,

"Some others may with Safety tell

The mod'rate Flames which in them dwell;

And either find some Med'cine there,

Or cure themselves ev'n by Despair:

My Love's so great, that it might prove

Dang'rous to tell her that I love.

So tender is my Wound it cannot bear

Any Salute, tho' of the kindest Air."—_Cowley._

Where the rhymes follow one another, and the six first verses consist of

eight syllables each, the two last of ten.

We have another sort of stanza of eight verses, where the fourth rhymes

to the first, the third to the second, and the four last are two

couplets; and where the first, fourth, sixth, and eighth are of ten

syllables each, the four others but of eight; as,

"I've often wish'd to love: What shall I do?

Me still the cruel Boy does spare;

And I a double Task must bear,

First to woo him, and then a Mistress too.

Come at last, and strike for shame,

If thou art any Thing besides a Name;

I'll think thee else no God to be,

But Poets rather Gods, who first created thee."—_Cowley._

Another, when the two first and two last verses consist of ten

syllables each, and rhyme to one another, the four other but of eight in

alternate rhyme.

"Tho' you be absent hence, I needs must say,

The Trees as beauteous are, and Flow'rs as gay,

As ever they were wont to be:

Nay the Birds rural Musick too

Is as melodious and free,

As if they sung to pleasure you.

I saw a Rose bud ope this Morn; I'll swear

The blushing Morning open'd not more fair."—_Cowley._

Another, where the four first verses are two couplets, the four last

in alternate rhyme; as in Cowley's "Ode of a Lady that made Posies for

Rings,"

"I little thought the Time would ever be,

That I should Wit in dwarfish Posies see,

As all Words in few Letters live,

Thou to few Words all Sense dost give.

'Twas Nature taught you this rare Art,

In such a Little, Much to show;

Who all the Good she did impart

To womankind, epitomiz'd in you.

SECTION V.—_Of the stanzas of ten and twelve verses._

The stanzas of ten and twelve verses are seldom employed in our

poetry, it being very difficult to confine ourselves to a certain

disposition of rhyme, and measure of verse, for so many lines together;

for which reason those of four, six, and eight verses are the most

frequent. However, we sometimes find some of ten and twelve; as in

Cowley's ode, which he calls "Verses Lost upon a Wager," where the

rhymes follow one another; but the verses differ in the number of

syllables.

"As soon hereafter will I Wagers lay

'Gainst what an Oracle shall say;

Fool that I was to venture to deny

A Tongue so us'd to Victory;

A Tongue so blest by Nature and by Art,

That never yet it spoke, but gain'd a heart.

Tho' what you said had not been true,

If spoke by any else but you;

Your speech will govern Destiny,

And Fate will change rather than you shall lye."—_Cowley._

The same poet furnishes us with an example of a stanza of twelve

verses in the ode he calls "The Prophet," where the rhymes are observed

in the same manner as in the former examples.

"Teach me to love! Go teach thy self Wit:

I chief Professor am of it.

Teach Craft to Scots, and Thrift to Jews,

Teach Boldness to the Stews.

In Tyrants Courts teach supple Flattery,

Teach Jesuits that have travell'd far too lie,

Teach fire to burn, and Winds to blow,

Teach restless Fountains how to flow,

Teach the dull Earth fixt to abide,

Teach Womankind Inconstancy and Pride,

See if your Diligence there will useful prove;

But prithee teach not me to love."

SECTION VI.—_Of the stanzas that consist of an odd

number of verses._

We have also stanzas that consist of odd numbers of verses, as of

five, seven, nine, and eleven; in all which it of necessity follows that

three verses of the stanza rhyme to one another, or that one of them be

a blank verse.

In the stanzas of five verses the first and third may rhyme, and the

second and two last; as,

"See not my Love how Time resumes

The Beauty which he lent these Flow'rs:

Tho' none should taste of their Perfumes,

Yet they must live but some few Hours:

Time what we forbear devours."—_Waller._

Which is only a stanza of four verses in alternate rhyme, to which a

fifth verse is added that rhymes to the second and fourth.

See also an instance of a stanza of five verses, where the rhymes are

intermixed in the manner as the former, but the first and third verses

are composed but of four syllables each.

"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._

In the following example the two first verses rhyme, and the three

last.

"'Tis well, 'tis well with them, said I,

Whose short-liv'd Passions with themselves can die.

For none can be unhappy, who }

'Midst all his Ills a Time does know, }

Tho' ne'er so long, when he shall not be so."—_Cowley._ }

In this stanza the two first and the last, and the third and fourth

rhyme to one another.

"It is enough, enough of Time and Pain

Hast thou consum'd in vain;

Leave, wretched Cowley, leave,

Thy self with Shadows to deceive.

Think that already lost which thou must never gain."—_Cowley._

The stanzas of seven verses are frequent enough in our poetry,

especially among the ancients, who composed many of their poems in this

sort of stanza; see the example of one of them taken from Spenser in the

"Ruins of Time," where the first and third verses rhyme to one another,

the second, fourth, and fifth, and the two last.

"But Fame with golden Wings aloft does fly

Above the Reach of ruinous Decay,

And with brave Plumes does beat the Azure Sky,

Admir'd of base-born Men from far away:

Then whoso will with virtuous Deeds assay,

To mount to Heaven, on Pegasus must ride,

And in sweet Poets verse be glorify'd."

I have rather chosen to take notice of this stanza, because that poet

and Chaucer have made use of it in many of their poems, though they have

not been followed in it by any of the moderns, whose stanzas of seven

verses are generally composed as follows.

Either the four first verses are a quadran in alternate rhyme, and the

three last rhyme to one another; as,

"Now by my Love, the greatest Oath that is,

None loves you half so well as I;

I do not ask your Love for this;

But for Heav'ns sake believe me or I die.

No Servant sure but did deserve }

His Master should believe that he did serve; }

And I'll ask no more Wages, tho' I starve." }

Or the four first two couplets, and the three last a triplet; as,

"Indeed I must confess

When Souls mix 'tis a Happiness,

But not compleat 'till Bodies too combine,

And closely as our Minds together join.

But half of Heav'n the Souls in Glory taste }

'Till by Love in Heav'n at last }

Their Bodies too are plac'd." }

Or, on the contrary, the three first may rhyme, and the four last be in

rhymes that follow one another; as,

"From Hate, Fear, Hope, Anger, and Envy free, }

And all the Passions else that be, }

In vain I boast of Liberty: }

In vain this State a Freedom call,

Since I have Love; and Love is all.

Sot that I am! who think it fit to brag

That I have no Disease besides the Plague."—_Cowley._

Or the first may rhyme to the two last, the second to the fifth, and

third and fourth to one another; as,

"In vain thou drowsy God I thee invoke,

For thou who dost from Fumes arise,

Thou who Man's Soul dost overshade

With a thick Cloud by Vapours made,

Canst have no Pow'r to shut his Eyes,

Or Passage of his Spirits to choak,

Whose Flame's so pure, that it sends up no Smoak."—_Cowley._

Or lastly, the four first and two last may be in the following rhyme,

and the fifth a blank verse; as,

"Thou robb'st my Days of Bus'ness and Delights,

Of Sleep thou robb'st my Nights.

Ah lovely Thief! what wilt thou do?

What, rob me of Heav'n too!

Thou e'en my Prayers dost from me steal,

And I with wild Idolatry

Begin to God, and end them all in thee."—_Cowley._

The stanzas of nine and of eleven syllables are not so frequent as

those of five and seven. Spenser has composed his "Fairy Queen" in

stanzas of nine verses, where the first rhymes to the third, the second

to the fourth, fifth and seventh, and the sixth to the last; but this

stanza is very difficult to maintain, and the unlucky choice of it

reduced him often to the necessity of making use of many exploded words;

nor has he, I think, been followed in it by any of the moderns, whose

six first verses of the stanzas that consist of nine are generally in

rhymes that follow one another, and the three last a triplet; as,

"Beauty, Love's Scene and Masquerade,

So well by well-plac'd Lights, and Distance made;

False Coin! with which th' Imposter cheats us still,

The Stamp and Colour good, but Metal ill:

Which light or base we find, when we

Weigh by Enjoyment, and examine thee.

For tho' thy Being be but Show,

'Tis chiefly Night which Men to thee allow,

And chuse t' enjoy thee, when thou least art thou."

—_Cowley._

In the following example the like rhyme is to be observed, but the

verses differ in measure from the former,

"Beneath this gloomy Shade,

By Nature only for my Sorrows made,

I'll spend this Voice in Cries;

In Tears I'll waste these Eyes,

By Love so vainly fed;

So Lust of old the Deluge punished.

Ah wretched Youth! said I;

Ah wretched Youth! twice did I sadly cry;

Ah wretched Youth! the Fields and Floods reply."—_Cowley._

The stanzas consisting of eleven verses are yet less frequent than

those of nine, and have nothing particular to be observed in them. Take

an example of one of them, where the six first are three couplets, the

three next a triplet, the two last a couplet; and where the fourth, the

seventh, and the last verses are of ten syllables each, the others of

eight,

"No, to what Purpose should I speak?

No, wretched Heart, swell till you break:

She cannot love me if she would,

And, to say Truth, 'twere Pity that she should.

No, to the Grave thy Sorrows bear,

As silent as they will be there;

Since that lov'd Hand this mortal Wound does give.

So handsomely the Thing contrive,

That she may guiltless of it live:

So perish, that her killing thee

May a Chance-Medley, and no Murder be."—_Cowley._

SECTION VII.—_Of Pindaric odes, and poems in blank verse._

The stanzas of Pindaric odes are neither confined to a certain number

of verses, nor the verses to a certain number of syllables, nor the

rhymes to a certain distance. Some stanzas contain fifty verses or more,

others not above ten, and sometimes not so many; some verses fourteen,

nay, sixteen syllables, others not above four: sometimes the rhymes

follow one another for several couplets together, sometimes they are

removed six verses from each other; and all this in the same stanza.

Cowley was the first who introduced this sort of poetry into our

language: nor can the nature of it be better described than as he

himself has done it, in one of the stanzas of his ode upon liberty,

which I will transcribe, not as an example, for none can properly be

given where no rule can be prescribed; but to give an idea of the nature

of this sort of poetry.

"If Life should a well-order'd Poem be,

In which he only hits the White,

Who joins true Profit with the best Delight;

The more heroick Strain let others take,

Mine the Pindarick Way I'll make:

The Matter shall be grave, the Numbers loose and free;

It shall not keep one settled Pace to Time,

In the same Tune it shall not always Chime,

Nor shall each Day just to his Neighbour rhyme.

A thousand Liberties it shall dispense,

And yet shall manage all without Offence,

Or to the Sweetness of the Sound, or Greatness of the Sense,

Nor shall it ever from one Subject start,

Nor seek Transitions to depart;

Nor its set Way o'er Stiles and Bridges make,

Nor thro' Lanes a compass take,

As if fear'd some Trespass to commit,

When the wide Air's a Road for it.

So the Imperial Eagle does not stay

'Till the whole Carcass he devour,

That's fall'n into his Pow'r,

As if his gen'rous Hunger understood,

That he can never want Plenty of Food;

He only sucks the tasteful Blood,

And to fresh Game flies cheerfully away,

To Kites and meaner Birds, he leaves the mangled Prey."

This sort of poetry is employed in all manner of subjects; in

pleasant, in grave, in amorous, in heroic, in philosophical, in moral,

and in divine.

Blank verse is where the measure is exactly kept without rhyme.

Shakespeare, to avoid the troublesome constraint of rhyme, was the first

who invented it; our poets since him have made use of it in many of

their tragedies and comedies; but the most celebrated poem in this kind

of verse is Milton's "Paradise Lost," from the fifth book of which I

have taken the following lines for an example of blank verse.

"These are thy glorious Works, Parent of Good!

Almighty! thine this universal Frame,

Thus wond'rous fair! thyself how wond'rous then!

Speak you, who best can tell, ye Sons of Light,

Angels! for you behold him, and with Songs,

And Choral Symphonies, Day without Night,

Circle his Throne rejoycing, you in Heaven.

On Earth, join all ye Creatures, to extol

Him first, him last, him midst, and without End!

Fairest of Stars, last in the Train of Night,

If better thou belong not to the Dawn,

Sure Pledge of Day, that crown'st the smiling Morn

With the bright Circlet, praise him in thy Sphere,

While Day arises, that sweet hour of Prime!

Thou Sun! of this great World both Eye and Soul,

Acknowledge him thy Creator, sound his Praise

In thy eternal Course, both when thou climb'st,

And when high Noon hast gain'd and when thou fall'st.

Moon! that now meet'st the Orient Sun, now fly'st

With the fix'd Stars, fix'd in their Orb that flies,

And ye five other wand'ring Fires! that move

In Mystick Dance, not without Song resound

His Praise, who out of Darkness call'd up Light.

Air! and ye Element! the eldest Birth

Of Nature's Womb, that in Quaternion run

Perpetual Circle multiform and mix

And nourish all Things; let your ceaseless Change

Vary to our great Maker still new praise.

Ye Mists and Exhalations! that now rise

From Hill or standing Lake, dusky or gray,

Till the Sun paint your fleecy Skirts with gold,

In Honour to the World's great Author rise;

Whether to deck with Clouds th' uncolour'd Sky,

Or wet the thirsty Earth with falling show'rs,

Rising or falling still advance his Praise.

His Praise, ye Winds! that from our Quarters blow,

Breathe soft or loud; and wave your Tops, ye Pines!

With ev'ry Plant, in sign of Worship, wave.

Fountains! and ye that warble as you flow

Melodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise.

Join Voices all ye living Souls, ye Birds!

That singing, up to Heav'ns high Gate ascend,

Bear on your Wings, and in your Notes his Praise

Ye that in Waters glide! and ye that walk

The Earth! and stately tread, or lovely creep;

Witness if I be silent, Ev'n or Morn,

To Hill or Valley, Fountain, or fresh Shade,

Made Vocal by my Song, and taught his Praise."

Thus I have given a short account of all the sorts of poems that are

most used in our language. The acrostics, anagrams, &c., deserve not to

be mentioned, and we may say of them what an ancient poet said long ago,

"_Stultum est difficiles habere nugas,_

_Et stultus labor est ineptarum._"

FINIS.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Decidedly, this Life of De Quincey is the best biography of the year in

the English language."—_Vide Critical Notices._

In Two Volumes, crown 8vo, cloth, with Portrait, price 21s.

THOMAS DE QUINCEY:

HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS.

_WITH UNPUBLISHED CORRESPONDENCE._

By H. A. PAGE,

Author of "Memoir of Hawthorne," "Golden Lives," &c.

----------

The letters comprise nearly one hundred, from Mr. de Quincey to his

family, the Wordsworths, and others; and to him from Mr. Thomas Carlyle,

Professor Wilson, and others.

----------

=Times.=—The work is enriched by letters which his two surviving

daughters have brought out of long-closed repositories.... In taking

leave of this creditable book, we thank Mr. Page for his labour of love,

and congratulate him on the collaboration that he has been favoured

with.

=Academy.=—At last we are indulged with a Life of De Quincey, ... and we

are mistaken if the result be not to set Thomas de Quincey on a higher

pinnacle as a man with conduct and conscience, a man with responsible

family relations, a true gentleman as well as a cultivated scholar, than

he had hitherto reached. The author is one practised in kindred

pursuits, and has had the great advantage of Mr. James Hogg's

reminiscences of De Quincey, as well as free access to De Quincey's

daughters, and the papers and documents in their possession.

=Pall Mall Gazette.=—This biography deserves to be commended. Mr. Page's

mastery of the subject is evident, and his criticism exhibits many

delicate touches.... Among the reminiscences, those by Mr. Hogg will be

read with special interest; they give us a life-like portrait of De

Quincey, and tell some quaint anecdotes, which give us a better insight

into some of his characteristics than the most elaborate disquisition.

=Illustrated London News.=—It would be as well to consult these two

volumes before any rash assertion be made that everybody knows all that

can be known, or is worthy of being known, about the celebrated "English

Opium-Eater."

=New York Herald.=—After reading Mr. Page's biography, we have a very

home-like feeling for De Quincey, and we cannot help saying, "Dear old

man!" as we read his letters.... Mr. Hogg's reminiscences are very

entertaining, and show the genial side of De Quincey's nature; and Dr.

Eatwell's medical view is curious and interesting. Altogether Mr. Page's

Life of De Quincey is one of the most valuable books of the year, and is

as full of anecdote as a nut is of meat.

=Glasgow Herald.=—Mr. Page merits great praise for the pains he has

taken to fix De Quincey's position in literature, and to trace the

workings of a mind richly endowed indeed with gifts, even when measured

by the standard of his own bright compeers.

⁂ A Prospectus will be forwarded on application, giving Extracts from

ALL the Criticisms which have appeared, upwards of fifty.

LONDON: JOHN HOGG, PATERNOSTER ROW.

_A HANDBOOK OF REFERENCE AND QUOTATION._

MOTTOES AND APHORISMS FROM SHAKESPERE:

a Collection of Two Thousand Seven Hundred Mottoes and Aphorisms,

alphabetically arranged, with a copious Index of Nine Thousand

References to the infinitely varied Words and Ideas of the Mottoes. Any

word or idea can be traced at once, and the correct quotation (with name

of play, act, and scene) had without going further. Second edition,

fcap. 8vo, cloth, price 2s. 6d.

"A very useful Handbook, ... rendering the wit and wisdom of Shakespere

practically available to all speakers and writers,—yea, it may even be

adapted to ordinary conversation.... The book might almost be called a

Shakespere concordance."—_Cambridge Chronicle._

_WOOD ENGRAVINGS BY THOMAS BEWICK._

THE PARLOUR MENAGERIE: wherein are exhibited, in a Descriptive and

Anecdotical Form, the Habits, Instinct, Natural Peculiarities, and

Mysterious Existences of the more Interesting Portions of the Animal

Creation, with upwards of 300 Wood Engravings, chiefly by Bewick and two

of his pupils. Large crown 8vo, gilt edges, price 7s. 6d.

"One of the best of the gossiping natural history books for an

intelligent boy that we have seen for some time. It is brimfull of

interesting anecdotes.... The eulogistic note from Professor Owen is a

good guaranty of the accuracy of the information which it

contains."—_Church Times._

----------

THE POSTHUMOUS WORKS OF THE LATE REV. G. OLIVER, D.D.,

Author of "THE LANDMARKS OF MASONRY," &c. &c.

I.—THE DISCREPANCIES OF FREEMASONRY: Examined during a Week's Gossip

with the late celebrated Bro. Gilkes, and other Eminent Masons. Crown

8vo, cloth, with numerous Diagrams, price 7s. 6d.

"It is difficult to imagine a more charming book, or one more calculated

to inspire the Masonic Student with enthusiasm for the Royal

Art."—_Freemason's Chronicle._

"A most amusing and curious book."—_Standard._

* * * * *

II.—THE PYTHAGOREAN TRIANGLE; or, The Science of Numbers. Crown 8vo,

cloth, with Diagrams, price 6s.

"In addition to all its stores of curious and varied learning, as

connected with the Craft, the Rev. Doctor's treatise contains many sage

remarks on a host of other interesting topics, which will please all

curious readers."—_Standard._

----------

_Dedicated by permission to JOHN HERVEY, Esq., Grand Secretary._

THE ROYAL MASONIC CYCLOPÆDIA OF HISTORY, RITES, SYMBOLISM, AND

BIOGRAPHY. Containing upwards of 3000 Subjects, together with numerous

Original Articles on Archæological and other topics. Edited by Kenneth

R. H. Mackenzie. Demy 8vo, 792 pp., half morocco, Roxburgh style, gilt

top, price 21s.

"_The work is marked by extreme learning and moderation._"— " _Public

Opinion._

----------

LONDON: JOHN HOGG, PATERNOSTER ROW.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

Indents are as per the original.

Variations in spelling hyphenation, punctuation and accentuation were

maintained.

Italicized words and phrases are presented by surrounding the text with

underscores and bold text with equals signs.

Practical Guide to English Versification With a Compendious Dictionary of Rhymes, an Examination of Classical Measures, and Comments Upon Burlesque and Comic Verse, Vers de Société, and Song-writing · 第 10 / 10 章

In verses of four syllables, again, pretty long poems have actually been