Transcriber's Notes
Any changes made to the text have been listed in notes at the end of
the book.
The author makes extensive use of diacritics such as macron, breve
and grave accent to indicate stress, length etc. In the original,
these symbols often float over the text to show that they apply to
the syllable, but in this e-book are marked on the first vowel of the
syllable only.
Bold typeface is represented by by surrounding #hash symbols#; italic
by _underscores_; small caps by ALL CAPS and strikethrough by ~tilde
characters~. The caret symbol (^) precedes superscript characters.
* * * * *
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
#A HISTORY OF ENGLISH PROSODY FROM THE TWELFTH CENTURY TO THE
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LONDON: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD.
HISTORICAL MANUAL
OF
ENGLISH PROSODY
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MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
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TORONTO
HISTORICAL MANUAL
OF
ENGLISH PROSODY
BY
GEORGE SAINTSBURY
M.A. AND HON. D.LITT. OXON.
HON. LL.D. ABERD.; HON. D.LITT. DURH.; FELLOW OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY
HON. FELLOW OF MERTON COLLEGE, OXFORD; LATE PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC
AND ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
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COPYRIGHT
_First Edition_ 1910
_Reprinted_ 1914, 1919
PREFACE
The reception of the first two volumes of a larger work (since
completed) on English Prosody suggested, to the author and to the
publishers, that there might be room for a more compressed dealing with
the subject, possessing more introductory character, and attempting
the functions of a manual as well as those of a history. It did
not, however, seem that the matter could be satisfactorily treated
in extremely brief form, as a primer or elementary school-book. The
subject is one not very well suited for elementary instruction; and in
endeavouring to shape it for that use there is a particular danger of
too positive and peremptory statement in reference to matters of the
most contentious kind. Catechetical instruction has to be categorical;
if you set hypotheses, or alternative systems, before young scholars,
they are apt either to distrust the whole thing or to become hopelessly
muddled. And the opposite danger--of unhesitating adoption of positive
statements on doubtful points--must have been found to be only too
real by any one who has had to do with education. Schoolboys cannot
be too early, or too plentifully, or too variously supplied with good
_examples_ of verse; but they should be thoroughly familiar with the
practice before they come to the principles.
To the Senior Forms of the higher Secondary Schools, on the other hand,
and to students in those Universities which admit English literature as
a subject, this function of it is quite suitable and well adapted, and
it is for their use that this volume is planned (as well as for that of
the general reader who may hardly feel inclined to tackle three large
octavos). An effort will be made to include everything that is vital
to a clear understanding of the subject; while opportunity will, it is
hoped, be found for insertion of some information, both of a historical
and of a practical kind, which did not seem so germane to the larger
_History_. It has been a main object with me in preparing this book,
while reducing prosodic theory to the necessary minimum, but keeping
that, to "load every rift" with prosodic fact; and I could almost
recommend the student to devote himself to the Contents and the Index,
illustrated by the Glossary, all of which have been made exceptionally
full, before attacking the text.
The work, like the larger one of which it is not so much an abstract
as a parallel with a different purpose, cannot hope to content those
who think that prosody should be, like mathematics or music, a science,
immutable, peremptory, abstract in the other sense. It will not content
those who think--in pursuance or independently of such an opinion--that
it should discard appreciation of the actual poetry, on which, from
my point of view, it is solely based. It will, from another point,
leave dissatisfied those who decline the attempt to reduce this poetry
to some general but elastic laws, and who concentrate themselves on
the immediate musical or rhetorical values (as they seem to them) of
individual poems, or passages, or even (as is not uncommon) lines. Nor
will it provide, what some seem to desire, a tabular analysis of every
verse-form in the language, for reasons explained in the proper place
(_v. inf._ p. 336 _note_). But, from past experience, it seems that it
may find some public ready for it; and it is perhaps not wholly fatuous
to hope that it may help to create a larger.[1]
GEORGE SAINTSBURY.
EDINBURGH,
ALL SOULS' DAY,
1910.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Note to Second Edition. Christmas 1913._--The opportunity of this
second edition[2] has been taken to read the text carefully, and to
correct a certain number of errors of pen and press, connected more
especially with division of feet and quantification of syllables. How
difficult it is to avoid errors here, nobody who has not tried the
matter on an extensive scale can well conceive. Few more substantial
alterations have been found necessary; but I may mention here an
addition to the evidence of distinct, if clumsy, anapæstic metre in
the mid.-sixteenth century, which I had not noticed when writing
this book, or my larger one. It is a translation of the 149th Psalm,
contributed to the "Old Version" (1561-2) by John Pulleyne, Student of
Christchurch, Archdeacon of Colchester, and Prebendary of St. Paul's.
It may be found in the Parker Society's _Select Poems_, and begins:
Sing unto the Lord with hearty accord
A new joyful song;
His praises resound, in every ground
His saints all among.
[2] And of a third.--BATH, _Sept._ 1919.
CONTENTS
BOOK I
INTRODUCTORY AND DOGMATIC
CHAPTER I
PAGE
INTRODUCTORY 3
CHAPTER II
SYSTEMS OF ENGLISH PROSODY--THE ACCENTUAL OR STRESS
Classical prosody uniform in theory--English not so--"Accent"
and "stress"--English prosody as adjusted to them--Its
difficulties--and insufficiencies--Examples of its application--Its
various sects and supporters 6
CHAPTER III
SYSTEMS OF ENGLISH PROSODY--THE SYLLABIC
History of the syllabic theory--Its results--_Note:_ Cautions 14
CHAPTER IV
SYSTEMS OF ENGLISH PROSODY--THE FOOT
General if not always consistent use of the term "foot"--Particular
objections to its systematic use--"Quantity" in English--The
"common" syllable--Intermediate rules of arrangement--Some
interim rules of feet (expanded in note)--The different systems
applied to a single verse of Tennyson's--and their application
examined--Application further to his "Hollyhock" song--Such
application possible always and everywhere 19
CHAPTER V
RULES OF THE FOOT SYSTEM
§ A. Feet.--Feet composed of long and short syllables--Not all
combinations actual--Differences from "classical" feet--The
three usual kinds: iamb, trochee, anapæst--The spondee--The
dactyl--The pyrrhic--The tribrach--Others. § B. Constitution of
Feet.--Quality or "quantity" in feet--Not necessarily "time"--nor
vowel "quantity"--Accumulated consonants--or rhetorical stress--or
place in verse will quantify--Commonness of monosyllables. §
C. Equivalence and Substitution.--Substitution of equivalent
feet--Its two laws--Confusion of base must be avoided--(Of which
the ear must judge)--Certain substitutions are not eligible. § D.
Pause.--Variation of pause --Practically at discretion--Blank verse
specially dependent on pause. § E. Line-Combination.--Simple or
complex--Rhymes necessary to couplet--Few instances of successful
unrhymed stanza--Unevenness of line in length--Stanzas to be
judged by the ear--Origin of commonest line-combinations. § F.
Rhyme.--Rhyme natural in English--It must be "full" --and not
identical--General rule as to it--Alliteration--Single, etc.,
rhyme--Fullness of sound--Internal rhyme permissible--but sometimes
dangerous. § G. Miscellaneous--Vowel-music--"Fingering"--Confusion
of rhythms intolerable 30
CHAPTER VI
CONTINUOUS ILLUSTRATIONS OF ENGLISH SCANSION ACCORDING TO THE FOOT
SYSTEM
I. Old English Period: Scansion only dimly visible--II. Late Old
English with _nisus_ towards Metre: "Grave" Poem--III. Transition
Period: Metre struggling to assert itself in a new way--IV. Early
Middle English Period: Attempt at merely Syllabic Uniformity
with Unbroken Iambic Run and no Rhyme--V. Early Middle English
Period: Conflict or Indecision between Accentual Rhythm and
Metrical Scheme--VI. Early Middle English Period: The Appearance
and Development of the "Fourteener"--VII. Early Middle English
Period: The Plain and Equivalenced Octosyllable--VIII. Early Middle
English Period: The Romance-Six or _Rime Couée_--IX. Early Middle
English Period: Miscellaneous Stanzas--X. Early Middle English
Period: Appearance of the Decasyllable--XI. Later Middle English
Period: The Alliterative Revival (Pure)--XII. Later Middle English
Period: The Alliterative Revival (Mixed)--XIII. Later Middle
English Period: Potentially Metrical Lines in Langland (_see_ Book
II.)--XIV. Later Middle English Period: Scansions from Chaucer--XV.
Later Middle English Period: Variations from Strict Iambic Norm in
Gower--XVI. Transition Period: Examples of Break-down in Literary
Verse--XVII. Transition Period: Examples of True Prosody in Ballad,
Carols, etc.--XVIII. Transition Period: Examples of Skeltonic and
other Doggerel--XIX. Transition Period: Examples from the Scottish
Poets--XX. Early Elizabethan Period: Examples of Reformed Metre
from Wyatt, Surrey, and other Poets before Spenser--XXI. Spenser
at Different Periods--XXII. Examples of the Development of Blank
Verse--XXIII. Examples of Elizabethan Lyric--XXIV. Early Continuous
Anapæsts--XXV. The Enjambed Heroic Couplet (1580-1660)--XXVI.
The Stopped Heroic Couplet (1580-1660)--XXVII. Various Forms
of Octosyllable-Heptasyllable (late Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Century)--XXVIII. "Common," "Long," and "In Memoriam" Measure
(Seventeenth Century)--XXIX. Improved Anapæstic Measures (Dryden,
Anon., Prior)--XXX. "Pindarics" (Seventeenth Century)--XXXI. The
Heroic Couplet from Dryden to Crabbe--XXXII. Eighteenth-Century
Blank Verse--XXXIII. The Regularised Pindaric Ode--XXXIV. Lighter
Eighteenth-Century Lyric--XXXV. The Revival of Equivalence
(Chatterton and Blake)--XXXVI. Rhymeless Attempts (Collins to
Shelley)--XXXVII. The Revived Ballad (Percy to Coleridge)--XXXVIII.
Specimens of _Christabel_; Note on the Application of the
_Christabel_ System to Nineteenth-Century Lyric generally--XXXIX.
Nineteenth-Century Couplet (Leigh Hunt to Mr. Swinburne)--XL.
Nineteenth-Century Blank Verse (Wordsworth to Mr. Swinburne)--XLI.
The Non-Equivalenced Octosyllable of Keats and Morris--XLII. The
Continuous Alexandrine (Drayton and Browning)--XLIII. _The Dying
Swan_ of Tennyson scanned entirely through to show the Application
of the System--XLIV. The Stages of the Metre of "Dolores" and the
Dedication of "Poems and Ballads"--XLV. Long Metres of Tennyson,
Browning, Morris, and Swinburne--XLVI. The Later Sonnet--XLVII.
The Various Attempts at "Hexameters" in English--XLVIII. Minor
Imitations of Classical Metres--XLIX. Imitations of Artificial
French Forms--L. Later Rhymelessness--LI. Some "Unusual" Metres and
Disputed Scansions 37
BOOK II
HISTORICAL SKETCH OF ENGLISH PROSODY
CHAPTER I
FROM THE ORIGINS TO CHAUCER--THE CONSTITUTION OF ENGLISH VERSE
Relations of "Old" to "Middle" and "New" English--generally--and
in prosody--Anglo-Saxon prosody itself--Prosody of the Transition
to Middle English--Contrast in Layamon--Examinations of it:
Insufficient--Sufficient--Other documents The _Ormulum_--The
_Moral Ode_ and the _Orison of Our Lady_--The _Proverbs of
Alfred_ and _Hendyng_--The _Bestiary_--Minor poems--_The Owl
and the Nightingale_ and _Genesis and Exodus_--Summary of
results to the mid-thirteenth century--The later thirteenth
century and the fourteenth--Robert of Gloucester--The
Romances--Lyrics--The alliterative revival--The later fourteenth
century--Langland--Gower--Chaucer--His perfecting of M.E.
verse--Details of his prosody 133
CHAPTER II
FROM CHAUCER TO SPENSER--DISORGANISATION AND RECONSTRUCTION
Causes of decay in Southern English prosody--Lydgate, Occleve,
etc.--The Scottish poets--Ballad, etc.--Dissatisfaction and
reform--Wyatt and Surrey--Their followers--Spenser--The _Shepherd's
Calendar_--The _Faerie Queene_ 161
CHAPTER III
FROM SHAKESPEARE TO MILTON--THE CLOSE OF THE FORMATIVE PERIOD
Blank verse--Before Shakespeare--In him--and after him in
drama--Its degeneration--Milton's reform of it--_Comus_--_Paradise
Lost_--Analysis of its versification, with application of different
systems--Stanza, etc., in Shakespeare--in Milton--and others--The
"heroic" couplet--Enjambed--and stopped--Lyric 173
CHAPTER IV
HALT AND RETROSPECT--CONTINUATION ON HEROIC VERSE AND ITS
COMPANIONS FROM DRYDEN TO CRABBE
Recapitulation--Dryden's couplet--and Pope's--Their
predominance--Eighteenth-century octosyllable and anapæst--Blank
verse--and lyric--Merit of eighteenth-century "regularity" 190
CHAPTER V
THE ROMANTIC REVIVAL--ITS PRECURSORS AND FIRST GREAT STAGE
Gray and Collins--Chatterton, Burns, and Blake--Other
influences of change--Wordsworth, Southey, and
Scott--Coleridge--Moore--Byron--Shelley: his longer poems--His
lyrics--Keats 198
CHAPTER VI
THE LAST STAGE--TENNYSON TO SWINBURNE
From Keats to Tennyson--Tennyson himself--Special example of his
manipulation of the quatrain--Browning--Mrs. Browning--Matthew
Arnold--Later poets: The Rossettis--W. Morris--Mr. Swinburne--Others
207
CHAPTER VII
RECAPITULATION OR SUMMARY VIEW OF STAGES OF ENGLISH PROSODY
I. Old English Period--II. Before or very soon after 1200: Earliest
Middle English Period--III. Middle and Later Thirteenth Century:
Second Early Middle English Period--IV. Earlier Fourteenth Century:
Central Period of Middle English--V. Later Fourteenth Century:
Crowning Period of Middle English--VI. Fifteenth and Early
Sixteenth Centuries: The Decadence of Middle English Prosody--VII.
Mid-Sixteenth Century: The Recovery of Rhythm--VIII. Late Sixteenth
Century: The Perfecting of Metre and of Poetical Diction--IX.
Early Seventeenth Century: The further Development of Lyric,
Stanza, and Blank Verse; Insurgence and Division of the Couplet--X.
Mid-Seventeenth Century: Milton--XI. The Later Seventeenth Century:
Dryden--XII. The Eighteenth Century--XIII. The Early Nineteenth
Century and the Romantic Revival--XIV. The Later Nineteenth Century
220
BOOK III
HISTORICAL SURVEY OF VIEWS ON PROSODY
CHAPTER I
BEFORE 1700
Dearth of early prosodic studies--Gascoigne--His remark on feet--
Spenser and Harvey--Stanyhurst--Webbe--King James VI.-- Pattenham
(?)--Campion and Daniel--Ben Jonson, Drayton, Beaumont--Joshua
Poole and "J. D."--Milton--Dryden-- Woodford--Comparative
barrenness of the whole 233
CHAPTER II
FROM BYSSHE TO GUEST
Bysshe's _Art of Poetry_--Its importance--Minor prosodists of
the mid-eighteenth century--Dr. Johnson--Shenstone--Sheridan--
John Mason--Mitford--Joshua Steele--Historical and Romantic
prosody--Gray--Taylor and Sayers--Southey: his importance
--Wordsworth--Coleridge--_Christabel_, its theory and its
practice--Prosodists from 1800 to 1850--Guest 242
CHAPTER III
LATER NINETEENTH-CENTURY PROSODISTS
Discussions on the _Evangeline_ hexameter--Mid-century prosodists
--Those about 1870--and since--Summary 256
BOOK IV
AUXILIARY APPARATUS
CHAPTER I
GLOSSARY
#Accent#--Acephalous--Acrostic--Alexandrine--Alcaic--Alliteration
--Amphibrach--Amphimacer--Note on Musical and Rhetorical
Arrangements of Verse--Anacrusis--Anapæst--Anti-Bacchic
or Anti-Bacchius--Antispast--Antistrophe--Appoggiatura--
Arsis and its opposite, Thesis--Assonance--Atonic--Bacchic
or Bacchius--Ballad (rarely Ball_et_)--Ballade--Ballad
Metre or Common Measure--Bar and Beat--Blank Verse--Bob
and Wheel--Burden--Burns Metre--Cadence--Cæsura--Carol--
Catalexis--Catch--Chant-Royal--Choriamb--Coda--Common
--Common Measure ("C.M.")--Consonance--Couplet--
Cretic--Dactyl--Di-iamb--Dimeter--Dispondee--Distich--
Ditrochee--Dochmiac--Doggerel--Duple--Elision--
End-stopped--Enjambment--Envoi--Epanaphora--Epanorthosis
--Epitrite--Epode--Equivalence--Eye-Rhyme--Feminine Rhyme
(Feminine Ending)--"Fingering"--Foot; Table of Feet
--Fourteener--Galliambic--Gemell or Geminel--Head-Rhyme
--Hendecasyllable--Heptameter--Heroic--Hexameter--
Hiatus--Iambic--Inverted Stress--Ionic; Note on Ionic
_a minore_ as applicable to the Epilogue of Browning's
_Asolando_--Leonine Verse--Line--Long and Short--Long Measure
("L.M.")-- Lydgatian Line--Masculine Rhyme--Metre--Molossus--
Monometer--Monopressure--Octave--Octometer--Ode--Ottava
Rima--Pæon--Pause--Pentameter--Pindaric--Position--Poulter's
Measure--Proceleusmatic--Pyrrhic--Quantity--Quartet
or Quatrain--Quintet--Redundance--Refrain--Rhyme
--Rhyme-Royal--Rhythm--Riding Rhyme--_Rime Couée_ or
Tailed Rhyme--Romance-Six--Rondeau, Rondel--Sapphic--
Section--Septenar--Septet--Sestet, also Sixain--Sestine,
Sestina--Short Measure ("S.M.")--Single-moulded--Skeltonic
--Slur--Sonnet--Spenserian--Spondee--Stanza or
Stave--Stress--Stress-Unit--Strophe--Substitution--Synalœpha--
Syncope--Synizesis--Syzygy--Tailed Sonnet--Tercet--Terza
Rima--Tetrameter--Thesis--Time--Tribrach--Triolet--
Triple--Triplet--Trochee--Truncation--Tumbling Verse--Turn of
Words--Verse--Verse Paragraph--Vowel-Music-- Weak Ending--Wrenched
Accent 265
CHAPTER II
REASONED LIST OF POETS WITH SPECIAL REGARD TO THEIR PROSODIC
QUALITY AND INFLUENCE
#Arnold#, Matthew (1822-1888)--Barham, Richard H.
("Thomas Ingoldsby") (1788-1845)--Beaumont, Sir John
(1583-1623)--Blake, William (1757-1827)--Bowles, William Lisle
(1762-1850)--Browne, William (1591-1643)--Browning, Elizabeth
Barrett (1806-1861)--Browning, Robert (1812-1889)--Burns, Robert
(1759-1796)--Byron, George Gordon, Lord (1788-1824)--Campbell,
Thomas (1777-1844)--Campion, Thomas (?-1619)--Canning, George
(1770-1827)--Chamberlayne, William (1619-1689)--Chatterton,
Thomas (1752-1770)--Chaucer, Geoffrey (1340?-1400)--Cleveland,
John (1613-1658)--Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)--Collins,
William (1721-1759)--Congreve, William (1670-1729)--Cowley,
Abraham (1618-1667)--Cowper, William (1731-1800)--Donne,
John (1573-1631)--Drayton, Michael (1563-1631)--Dryden, John
(1630-1700)--Dixon, Richard Watson (1833-1900)--Dunbar, William
(1450?-1513? or -1530?)--Dyer, John (1700?-1758?)--Fairfax,
Edward (d. 1635)--Fitzgerald, Edward (1809-1883)--Fletcher,
Giles (1588-1623), and Phineas (1582-1650)--Fletcher, John
(1579-1625)--Frere, John Hookham (1769-1846)--Gascoigne, George
(1525?-1577)--Glover, Richard (1712-1785)--Godric, Saint
(?-1170)--Gower, John (1325?-1408)--Hampole, Richard Rolle
of (1290?-1347)--Hawes, Stephen (d. 1523?)--Herrick, Robert
(1591-1674)--Hunt, J. H. Leigh (1784--1859)---Jonson, Benjamin
(1573?-1637)--Keats, John (1795-1821)--Kingsley, Charles
(1819-1875)--Landor, Walter Savage (1775-1864)--Langland, William
(fourteenth century)--Layamon (late twelfth and early thirteenth
century)--Lewis, Matthew Gregory (1775-1818)--Locker (latterly
Locker-Lampson), Frederick (1821-1895)--Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth
(1807-1882)--Lydgate, John (1370-1450?)--Macaulay, Thomas
Babington (1800-1859)--Maginn, William (1793-1842)--Marlowe,
Christopher (1664-1693)--Milton, John (1608-1674)--Moore, Thomas
(1779-1852)--Morris, William (1834-1896)--Orm--O'Shaughnessy,
Arthur W. E. (1844-1881)--Peele, George (1558?-1597?)--Percy,
Thomas (1729-1811)--Poe, Edgar (1809-1849)--Pope, Alexander
(1688-1744)--Praed, Winthrop Mackworth (1802-1839)--Prior,
Matthew (1664-1721)--Robert of Gloucester (_fl. c._
1280)--Rossetti, Christina Georgina (1830-1894) and Dante
Gabriel (1828-1882)--Sackville, Thomas (1536-1608)--Sandys,
George (1578-1644)--Sayers, Frank (1763-1817)--Scott, Sir Walter
(1771-1832)--Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)--Shelley, Percy
Bysshe (1792-1822)--Shenstone, William (1714-1763)--Sidney, Sir
Philip (1554-1586)--Southey, Robert (1774-1843)--Spenser, Edmund
(1552?-1599)--Surrey, Earl of (1517-1547)--Swinburne, Algernon
Charles (1837-1909)--Tennyson, Alfred (1809-1892)--Thomson,
James (1700-1748)--Tusser, Thomas (1524?-1580)--Waller, Edmund
(1606-1687)--Watts, Isaac (1674-1741)--Whitman, Walt[er]
(1819-1892)--Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)--Wyatt, Sir Thomas
(1503?-1542) 298
CHAPTER III
ORIGINS OF LINES AND STANZAS
A. Lines.--I. Alliterative--II. "Short" Lines--III.
Octosyllable--IV. Decasyllabic--V. Alexandrine--VI.
Fourteener--VII. Doggerel--VIII. "Long" Lines. B. Stanzas, etc.--I.
Ballad Verse--II. Romance-Six or _Rime Couée_--III. Octosyllabic
and Decasyllabic Couplet--IV. Quatrain--V. _In Memoriam_ Metre--VI.
Rhyme-Royal--VII. Octave--VIII. Spenserian--IX. Burns Metre--X.
Other Stanzas 316
CHAPTER IV
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abbot, E. A.--Alden, R. M.--[Blake, J. W.]--Brewer, R. F.--Bridges,
R. S.--Bysshe, Edward--Calverley, C. S.--Campion, Thomas--Cayley,
C. B.--Coleridge, S. T.--Conway, Gilbert--Crowe, William--Daniel,
Samuel--Dryden, John--Gascoigne, George--Goldsmith, Oliver--Guest,
Edwin--Hodgson, Shadworth--Hood, T. (the younger)--Jenkin,
Fleeming--Johnson, Samuel--Ker, W. P.--King James the First (Sixth
of Scotland)--Lewis, C. M.--Liddell, Mark H.--Mason, John--Masson,
David--Mayor, J. B.--Mitford, William--Omond, T.S.--Patmore,
Coventry--Poe, E. A.--[Puttenham, George?]--Ruskin, John--Schipper,
J.--Shenstone, William--Skeat, W. W.--Southey, Robert--Spedding,
James--Spenser, Edmund--Steele, Joshua--Stone, W. J.--Symonds, J.
A.--Thelwall, John--Verrier, M.--Wadham, E.--Webbe, William 337
INDEX 341
BOOK I
INTRODUCTORY AND DOGMATIC
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
Prosody, or the study of the constitution of verse, was, not so long
ago, made familiar, in so far as it concerned Latin, to all persons
educated above the very lowest degree, by the presence of a tractate
on the subject as a conclusion to the Latin Grammar. The same persons
were further obliged to a more than theoretical knowledge of it, in
so far as it concerned that language, by the once universal, now (as
some think) most unwisely disused habit of composing Latin verses. The
great majority of English poets, from at least the sixteenth century,
if not earlier, until far into the nineteenth, had actually composed
such verses; and even more had learnt the rules of them, long before
attempting in English the work which has given them their fame. It
is sometimes held that this fact--which as a fact is undeniable--has
had an undue influence on the way in which English prosody has been
regarded; that it must have exercised an enormous influence on the way
in which English poetry has been produced may be denied, but hardly by
any one who really considers the fact itself, and who is capable of
drawing an inference.
It was, however, a very considerable time before any attempt was
regularly made to construct a similar scientific or artistic analysis
for English verse itself. Although efforts were made early to adjust
that verse to the complete forms of Latin--and of Greek, which is in
some respects prosodically nearer than Latin to English,-- although
such attempts have been constantly repeated and are being continued
now,--it has always been impossible for any intelligent person to
make them without finding curious, sometimes rather indefinite, but
extremely palpable differences and difficulties in the way. The
differences especially have sometimes been exaggerated and more often
mistaken, and it is partly owing to this fact that, up to the present
moment, no authoritative body of doctrine on the subject of English
prosody can be said to exist. It is believed by the present writer
that such a body of doctrine ought to be and can be framed--with the
constant proviso and warning that it will be doctrine subject, not
to the practically invariable uniformity of Science, but to the wide
variations of Art,--not to the absolute compulsion of the universal,
but to the comparative freedom of the individual and particular. The
inquiries and considerations upon which this doctrine is based will be
found, at full, in the larger work referred to in the Preface. In the
first Book, here, will be set forth the leading systems or principles
which have actually underlain, and do underlie, the conflicting views
and the discordant terminology of the subject, and this will be
followed by perhaps the most valuable part, if any be valuable, of the
whole--a series of selected passages, scanned and commented, from the
very beginning to the very end of English poetry. In the second, a
survey will be given of that actual history of the actual poetry which
ought to be, but has very seldom been, the basis of every discussion
on prosody. In the third a brief conspectus will be supplied of the
actual opinions which have been held on this subject by those who have
handled it in English. The fourth will give, in the first place, a
Glossary of Terms, which appears to be very much needed; in the second,
a list of poets who have specially influenced the course of prosody,
with reasoned remarks on their connection with it; in the third, a
selected list of important metres with their origins and affiliations;
any further matter which may seem necessary following, with a short
Bibliography to conclude. The object of the whole is not merely to
inculcate what seems to the author to be the best if not the only
adequate general system of English prosody, but to provide the student
with ample materials for forming his own judgment on this difficult,
long debated, often mistaken, but always, if duly handled, profitable
and delectable matter.
CHAPTER II
SYSTEMS OF ENGLISH PROSODY--THE ACCENTUAL OR STRESS
[Sidenote: Classical prosody uniform in theory.]
The great difficulty attending the study of English prosody, and
the cause of the fact that no book hitherto published can be said
to possess actual authority on the subject, arises from the other
fact that no general agreement exists, or ever has existed, on the
root-principles of the matter.[3] Classical writers on metre, of
whom we possess a tolerable stock, differed with each other on many
minor points of opinion, and from each other in the ways in which
they attacked the subject. But they were practically agreed that
"quantity" (_i.e._ the difference of technical "time" in pronunciation
of syllables) and "feet"--that is to say, certain regular mathematical
combinations of "long" and "short" quantity--constituted metre.
They had indeed accent--the later Greeks certainly and the Latins
probably--which was independent of, and perhaps sometimes opposed to,
quantity; but except in what we call the ante-classical times of Latin
and the post-classical times of both Latin and Greek, it had nothing
to do with metrical arrangement. They had different values of "long"
and "short"; but these did not affect metre, nor did the fact that in
both languages, but especially in Greek, a certain number of syllables
were allowed to be "common"--that is to say, capable of taking the
place of "long" or "short" alike. The central system of prosodic
arrangement (till the flooding of the later Empire with "barbarians"
of various nationality and as various intonation and modes of speech
broke it down altogether) remained the same. "Longs" and "shorts"
in the various combinations and permutations possible, up to three
syllables most commonly, up to four in fewer cases, and possibly up to
five in still fewer, made up _lines_ which experiment discovered to be
harmonious, and practice adopted as such. These lines were sometimes
used continuously (with or without certain internal variations of
feet, considered equivalent to each other), as in modern blank verse;
sometimes arranged in batches corresponding more or less to each other,
as in modern couplet or stanza poetry.
[Sidenote: English not so.]
On the other hand, though English prosodists may sometimes agree on
details, translated into their different terminologies, the systems
which lie at the root of these terminologies are almost irreconcilably
different. Even the reduction of these systems to three types may
excite protest, though it is believed that it can be made out without
begging the question in favour of any one.
[Sidenote: "Accent" and "stress."]
The discord begins as early as possible; for there are some who would
maintain that "accentual" systems and "stress" systems ought not to be
identified, or even associated. It is quite true that the words are
technically used[4] with less or more extensive and intensive meaning;
but definitions of each are almost always driven to adopt the other,
and in prosodic systems they are practically inseparable. The soundest
distinction perhaps is that "accent" refers to the habitual stress
laid on a syllable in ordinary pronunciation; "stress" to a syllable
specially accented for this or that reason, logical, rhetorical, or
prosodic purely.
[Sidenote: English prosody as adjusted to them.]
According to this system (or systems) English poetry consists of
syllables--accented or unaccented, stressed or unstressed--arranged
on principles which, whatever they may be in themselves, have no
analogy to those of classical feet. According to the more reckless
and thorough-going accentualists--the view is expressed, with
all but its utmost crudity, in Coleridge's celebrated Preface to
_Christabel_[5]--all you have got to do is to look to the accents.
Cruder advocates still have said that "accents take the place of
feet" (which is something like saying that points take the place
of swords), or that unaccented syllables are "left to take care of
themselves." It has also been contended that the number and the
position of accents or stresses give a complete and sufficient scheme
of the metre. And in some late forms of stress-prosody the regularity,
actual or comparative, which used to be contended for by accentualists
themselves, is entirely given up; lines in continuous and apparently
identical arrangement may have two, three, four, five, or even more
stresses. While yet others have gone farther still and deliberately
proposed reading of verse as a prose paragraph, the natural stresses
of which will give the rhythm at which the author aimed.[6] Some again
would deny the existence of any normal form of staple lines like the
heroic, distributing them in "bars" of "beats" which may vary almost
indefinitely.
On the other hand, there are some accentualists who hardly differ,
in more than terminology, from the upholders of a foot-and-quantity
system. They think that there is no or little time-quantity in English;
that an English "long" syllable is really an accented one only, and
an English short syllable an unaccented. They would not neglect the
unaccented syllables; but would keep them in batches similar to, if
not actually homonymous with, feet. In fact the difference with them
becomes, if not one of mere terminology, one chiefly on the previous
question of the final constitution and causation of "long" and
"short" syllables. Of these, and of a larger number who consciously
or unconsciously approach nearer to, though they do not actually
enter, the "go-as-you-please" prosody of the extreme stressmen,
the majority of English prosodists has nearly always consisted.
Gascoigne, our first writer on the subject, belonged to them, calling
accent itself "emphasis," and applying the term "accent" only to the
written or typographical symbols of it; while he laid great stress on
its observance in verse. With those who adopt this system, and its
terminology, the substitution of a trochee for an iamb in the heroic
line is "inversion of accent," the raising or lowering of the usual
pronounced value of a syllable, "wrenching of accent," and so on. And
the principal argument which they advance in favour of their system
against the foot-and-quantity scheme is the very large prevalence of
"common" syllables in English--an undoubted fact; though the inference
does not seem to follow.
[Sidenote: Its difficulties]
The mere use of the word "unaccented" for "short" and "accented"
for "long" does no particular harm, though it seems to some clumsy,
irrational, and not always strictly correct even from its own point of
view, while it produces unnecessary difficulty in the case of feet,
or "sections," with _no_ accent in them--things which most certainly
exist in English poetry. But the moment that advance is made upon this
mere question of words and names, far more serious mischief arises.
There can be no doubt that the insistence on strict accent, alternately
placed, led directly to the monotonous and snip-snap verse of the
eighteenth century. In some cases it leads, logically and necessarily,
to denial of such feet as those just mentioned--a denial which flies
straight in the face of fact. Although it does not necessarily
involve, it most frequently leads also to, the forbidding, ignoring,
or shuffling off of trisyllabic feet, which are the chief glory and
the chief charm of English poetry, as substituted for dissyllabic.
And, further still, it leads to the most extraordinary confusion of
rhythms--accentualists very commonly, if not always, maintaining that,
inasmuch as there are the same number of accented syllables, it does
not matter whether you scan
Whēn | thĕ Brī|tĭsh wār|rĭŏr quēen |
iambically or
Whēn thĕ | Brītĭsh | wārrĭŏr | quēen
trochaically,
Īn thĕ hĕx|āmĕtĕr | rīsĕs thĕ | fōuntāin's | sīlvĕry̆ | cōlūmn
dactylically or
Īn | thĕ hĕxām|ĕtĕr rī|sĕs thĕ fōun|tāin's sīl|vĕry̆ cōl|ūmn
anapæstically.
Further still, and almost worst of all, it leads to the enormities of
fancy stress above referred to, committed by people who decline to
regard as "long" syllables not accented in ordinary pronunciation.
[Sidenote: and insufficiencies.]
But its greatest crime is its hopeless inadequacy, poverty, and
"beggarly elementariness." At best the accentual prosodist, unless
he is a quantitative one in disguise, confines himself to the mere
skeleton of the lines, and neglects their delicately formed and softly
coloured flesh and members. To leave unaccented syllables "as it were
to take care of themselves" is to make prosody mere singsong or patter.
Finally, it may be observed that, in all accentual or stress prosodies
which are not utterly loose and desultory, there is a tendency to
multiply exceptions, provisos, minor classifications to suit particular
cases, and the like, so that English prosody assumes the aspect, not
of a combination of general order and individual freedom, but of a
tangle of by-laws and partial regulations. Unnecessary when it is not
mischievous, mischievous when it is strictly and logically carried
out, the accentual system derives its only support from the fact
above mentioned (the large number of common syllables to be found in
English), from the actual existence of it in _Old_ English before the
language and the poetry had been modified by Romance admixture, and
from an unscientific application of the true proposition that the
classical and the English prosodies are _in some respects_ radically
different.
[Sidenote: Examples of its application.]
It will, however, of course be proper to give examples of the manner
in which accentual (or stress) scansion is worked by its own partisans
and exponents. Their common formula for the English heroic line in its
normal aspect is 5^_xa_:[7]
What òft | was thòught, | but nè'er | so wèll | exprèst.
If they meet with a trisyllabic foot, as in
And ma|ny an am|orous, ma|ny a hu|morous lay,
they either admit _two_ unaccented syllables between the accents, or
suggest "slur" or _synalœpha_ or "elision" ("man-yan"), this last
especially taking place with the definite article "the" ("th'"). But
this last process need not be insisted on by accentualists, though it
must by the next class we shall come to.
It is common, if not universal, for accentual prosodists to hold that
two accents must not come together, so that they are troubled by that
double line of Milton's where the ending and beginning run--
Bòth stòod
Bòth tùrned,
They admit occasional "inversion of accent" (trochaic
substitution)--especially at the opening of a verse,--as in the line
which Milton begins with
Màker;
but, when they hold fast to their principles, dislike it much in other
cases, as, for instance, in
fàlls to | the gròund.
And they complain when the accent which they think necessary falls, as
they call it, on one of two weak syllables, as in
And when. |
This older and simpler school, however, represented by Johnson, has
been largely supplemented by another, whose members use the term
"stress" or _ictus_ in preference to "accent," and to a greater or less
extent give up the attempt to establish normality of line at all.
[Sidenote: Its various sects and supporters.]
Some of them[8] admit lines of four, three, or even two stresses, as,
for instance--
His mìn|isters of vèn|geance and pursùit. |
Others[9] break it up into "bars" or "sections" which need not contain
the same or any fixed number of "beats" or "stresses," while some
again[10] seem to regard the stresses of a whole passage as supplying,
like those of a prose paragraph, a sufficient rhythmical skeleton the
flesh of which--the unaccented or unstressed part--is allowed to huddle
itself on and shuffle itself along as it pleases.
This school has received large recent accessions; but even now the
greater number of accentualists do little more than eschew the terms
of quantity, and substitute for them those of accent, more or less
consistently. Many of them even use the classical names and divisions
of feet; and with these there need not, according to strict necessity,
be any quarrel, since their error, if it be one, only affects the
constitution of prosodic material before it is verse at all, and not
the actual prosodic arrangement of verse as such.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] Or, it may be added, on its terminology; whence it results that
there is no subject on which it is so difficult to write without being
constantly misunderstood. It is perhaps not surprising that some people
almost deny the existence of English prosody itself, and decline at any
rate to take it seriously; while others talk about it in ways which
half justify the sceptics.
[4] It is inevitable, in dealing with this subject, that
technicalities, historical and literary references, etc., should
be plentifully employed. To explain them always in the text would
mean endless and disgusting delay and repetition; to give notes of
cross-reference in every case would bristle the lower part of the page
unnecessarily and hideously. Not merely the Contents and Index, but the
various Glossaries and Lists in the Fourth Book have been expressly
arranged to supply explanation and assistance in the least troublesome
and most compendious manner. But special references will be given when
they seem absolutely necessary.
[5] See on this in Book III.
[6] See the article in Glossary on "Musical and Rhetorical Arrangements
of Verse," and Rule 41, _infra_, p. 35.
[7] This formula seems due to Latham, the compiler of a well-known
work on Language. The foot-division mark | has been sometimes adopted
(by Guest) and defended (by Professor Skeat, who, however, does
not personally employ it) as a substitute for the accent mark. For
arguments against this which seem to the present writer strong, see _H.
E. P._ i. 8, and iii. 276, 544-545.
[8] Of whom the most important by far is Mr. Bridges, though he has
never, I think, reduced the number to two, or increased it above five.
Others, however, have admitted _eight_!
[9] _E.g._ Mr. Thomson, Sir W. M'Cormick, M. Verrier.
[10] _E.g._ Mr. J. A. Symonds, Mr. Hewlett.
CHAPTER III
SYSTEMS OF ENGLISH PROSODY--THE SYLLABIC
[Sidenote: History of the syllabic theory.]
A strictly syllabic system of prosody has hardly at any time been
a sufficient key, even in appearance, to English verse. But it has
preserved a curious insistence of pretension, and the study of it is
of great and informing prosodic interest. It is, of course, French
in origin--French prosody, except in eccentric instances, has been
from the first, and is to the present day, strictly syllabic. It is
innocuous in so far as in the words "octosyllable," "decasyllable,"
"fourteener," and the like, the irreducible syllabic minimum (save
by licence of certain metres) is conveniently indicated. In so early
an example as Orm (_v. inf._) we find it carried out exactly and
literally. But the inherited spirit of Old English, surviving and
resisting all changes and reinforcements of vocabulary, accent,
and everything else, will have none of it. In the _fif_teener[11]
itself; in its sequel and preserver, ballad measure; in octosyllabic
couplet--not merely in the loose form of _Genesis and Exodus_, but to
some extent even in the strict one of _The Owl and the Nightingale_;
in almost all mixed modes, when once they have broken free from direct
copying of French or Provençal, it is cast to the winds. It can only
be introduced into Chaucer, as far as his heroic couplet is concerned,
by perpetual violations of probability, document, and rhythm. Even
in Gower, the principal representative of it, and one who probably
did aim at it, there are some certain, and many probable, lapses from
strict observance. But in the linguistic and phonetic changes of the
fifteenth century, with the consequent decadence of original literary
poetry, the principle of syllabic liberty degenerates into intolerable
licence, and the doggerel which resulted, after triumphing or at least
existing for some generations, provoked considerable reaction in
practice and a still more considerable mistake in principle.
Wyatt, Surrey, and their successors in the middle of the century and
the first half of Elizabeth's reign, are pretty strict syllabically;
and it was from their practice, doubtless, that Gascoigne--one
of the last of the group, but our first English preceptist in
prosody--conceived the idea that English has but one foot, of two
syllables. Spenser's practice in the _Shepherd's Kalendar_ is not
wholly in accordance with this; but even he came near to observing it
later, and the early blank-verse writers were painfully scrupulous in
this respect.
But it was inevitable that blank verse, and especially dramatic blank
verse, should break through these restraints; and in the hands of
Shakespeare it soon showed that the greatest English verse simply
paid no attention at all to syllabic limitations; while lyric, though
rather slower, was not so very slow to indulge itself to some extent,
as it was tempted by "triple-timed" music. The excesses, however, of
the decayed blank verse of the First Caroline period joined with those
of the enjambed couplet, though these were not strictly syllabic, to
throw liberty into discredit; and the growth and popularity of the
strict _closed_ couplet encouraged a fresh delusion--that English
prosody _ought_ to be syllabic. Dryden himself to some extent
countenanced this, though he indemnified himself by the free use of the
Alexandrine, or even of the fourteener, in decasyllabics. The example
of Milton was for some time not imitated, and has even to this day been
misunderstood. About the time of Dryden's own death, in the temporary
decadence of the poetic spirit, syllabic prosody made a bold bid for
absolute rule.
In the year 1702 Edward Bysshe, publishing[12] the first detailed and
positive manual of English prosody, laid it down, without qualification
or apology, that "the structure of our verses, whether blank or
rhyming, consists in a certain number of syllables; not in feet
composed of long or short syllables, as the verses of the Greeks and
Romans." And although all Bysshe's details, which, as will be seen
below, were rigidly arranged on these principles--so that he made
no distinction between verse of triple time (though he grudgingly
and almost tacitly admitted it) and verse of double, as such,--were
not adopted by others, his doctrine was always (save in a very few
instances to be duly noticed later) implicitly, and often explicitly,
the doctrine of the eighteenth century. Nor has this ever lost a
certain measure of support; while it is very curious that the few
foreign students of English prosody who have arisen in late years are
usually inclined to it.
One difficulty in it, however, could never escape its most peremptory
devotees; and a shift for meeting it must have been devised at the same
time as the doctrine. It was all very well to lay down that English
verse _must_ consist of a certain number of syllables; but it could
escape no one who had ever read a volume or even a few pages of English
poetry, that it _did_ consist of a very uncertain number of them. The
problem was, therefore, how to get rid of the surplus where it existed.
It was met by recourse to that very classical prosody which was in
other respects being denied, and by the adoption of ruthless "elision"
or "crushing out" of the supposed superfluities. This involved not
merely elision proper--the vanishing or metrical ignoring of a vowel
at the end of a word before a vowel (or an _h_) at the beginning of
another, "th('/e) Almighty," "t('/o) admire." Application of a similar
process to the interior of words like "vi('/o)let," "di('/a)mond,"
was inculcated, and in fact insisted on; and even where consonants
preceded and followed a vowel of the easily slurrable kind, as in
"wat_e_ry," the suppression of the _e_ and sometimes even of other
vowels--"del('/i)cate"--was prescribed.
[Sidenote: Its results.]
There may possibly be two opinions (though it seems strange that
there should be) on the æsthetic results of this proceeding. To the
present writer they seem utterly hideous; while the admission of the
full syllables seems melodious and satisfying. It may also be pointed
out that there is a very tell-tale character about the fact that not
a few prosodists who defend "elision" in principle defend it only
as a metrical fiction, and even lay down positively that the elided
syllables are _always_ to be pronounced.[13] But it is far less matter
of opinion--if it is even matter of opinion at all--first, that this
process of mangling and monotonising English poetry is unnecessary;
and, secondly, that it is inconsistent with the historic development
of the language and the literature. That it is unnecessary will, it
is hoped, be demonstrated in the next of these Introductory Chapters;
and that it is unhistorical the whole body of the historical survey
to follow will show. And another objection of great importance can
be made good at once and here. The rigid observance of the syllabic
system produces, and cannot but produce, an intolerable monotony--a
monotony which has made the favourite verse of the eighteenth century
positively (if perhaps excessively and unreasonably) loathsome to
succeeding generations. It would be condemned by this, if it had no
other fault; while it has, as a matter of fact, hardly a virtue. It was
tried once for all by Orm, and failed once for all, in the beginning of
modern English, and it has never been tried in practice or maintained
in theory since without validating inferior poetry and discouraging
good.[14]
FOOTNOTES:
[11] For the almost necessary precedence, owing to the inflexional _e_,
of the _four_teener by this, and for expansion and explanation of other
historic facts mentioned in this chapter, see Scanned Conspectus and
Books II. and III.
[12] See Bibliography and Book III.
[13] This, it may be pointed out, is in flat contradiction to the older
doctrine of, for instance, Dryden, that no vowel can be cut out before
another in scansion which is not so in pronunciation.
[14] Examples here can hardly be needed. At any rate, one (Shenstone's,
_v. inf._, own) may suffice:
The loose wall _tottering_ o'er the trembling shade,
[Sidenote: Cautions.]
Here syllabic prosody would pronounce, and in strictness spell,
"tott'ring."--This is perhaps as good a place as any to make some
remarks on the connection of syllables with English prosody. In
that prosody there are no _extrametrical_ syllables, except at the
end of lines, and (much more doubtfully) at the cæsura, which is a
sort of end. Every syllable that occurs elsewhere must be part of,
or constitute, a foot; and it is for this reason that the "Rules"
following begin with feet, not syllables. It is practically impossible,
in many, if not in most cases, to tell the prosodic value of an English
syllable, or an English word, till you see it in actual verse.--Again,
although there are, of course, innumerable instances where a foot
coincides with a word, the composition of the foot out of syllables
belonging to different words, as in
The thun|_der of_ | the trum|_pets of_ | the night,
or
To set|_tle the_ | success|_ion of_ | the state,
is usually more effective.--And, lastly, although there have,
at different times, been strange prejudices against the use of
monosyllables and of polysyllables, these prejudices are, in both
cases, wholly unreasonable.
CHAPTER IV
SYSTEMS OF ENGLISH PROSODY--THE FOOT
[Sidenote: General if not always consistent use of the term "foot."]
Although the accentual and the syllabic systems--sometimes separate,
but oftener combined--have, on the whole, dominated English preceptist
prosody almost from the time when it first began to be formally
studied, there has, until very recently, been a constant tendency
to blend with these, if not the full acceptance, at any rate a
certain borrowing, of the terminology of a _third_ system--the
foot-and-quantity one, so well known in the classical prosodies. Not
before Bysshe (_c._ 1700) do you find any positive denial of "feet."
Gascoigne (_c._ 1570) talks of them; Milton speaks of "committing short
and long"; Dr. Johnson, though using a strict accent-and-syllable
scheme, admits (whether with absolute accuracy or not does not matter)
that "our heroic verse is derived from the iambic." And in more modern
times, from Mitford downwards, arguments against the applicability of
the terms in English have not unfrequently been found consistent with
an occasional, if not a regular, employment of them.
In fact, nothing but a curious suspicion, as of something cabalistical
in them, can prevent their use, or the use of some much more clumsy
and inconvenient equivalents--bars, beats, sections, what not;[15]
for that use is based on the most unalterable of all things, except
the laws of thought, the laws of mathematics. Everybody, whatsoever
his prosodic sect, admits that verse consists of alternations of two
values--some would say of more than two, but that only complicates the
application of an unchanged argument. Now the possible combinations
of two different things, in successive numerical units of two, three,
four, etc., are not arbitrary, but naturally fixed; and the names of
feet--iambic, trochaic, dactylic, etc.--are merely tickets for these
combinations.
[Sidenote: Particular objections to its systematic use.]
The reasons of the objection have been various, and are perhaps not
always fully stated, or even fully appreciated, by those who advance
them. It is most common perhaps now (though it was not so formerly)
to find the objection itself lodged thus--that the so-called English
iambs, anapæsts, etc., are different things from the feet so called
in Greek or Latin. This is sufficiently met by the reply that they
are naturally so, the languages being different, and that all that is
necessary is that the English foot should stand to English prosody as
the Latin or Greek foot does to Latin or Greek, that is to say, as
the necessary and constituent middle stage between the syllable and
the line. But a less vague and, in appearance at least, more solid
objection is that the Latin and the Greek foot were constituted out
of definite "quantities" attaching to definite syllables, and that
there is "no syllabic quantity in English," though there may be vowel
quantity. And this objection is generally, if not always, based on or
backed by a further one, that "quantity" depends directly on _time_
of pronunciation; while this again is supported, still further back,
by elaborate discussions of accent and quantity,[16] by denials that
accent can constitute quantity, and by learned expatiations in quest
of proof that Greeks and Romans scanned their verses as they did _not_
pronounce them--that there was a sort of amicable pitched battle,
always going on, between quantity and accent.
[Sidenote: "Quantity" in English.]
Now it can be easily shown that, even if these contentions as to
classical verse be accepted (and some of them are very doubtful), they
supply no sort of bar to the application of the foot system, with
such quantity as it requires, to English. It is quite true that the
proportion of syllables of absolutely fixed quantity--that is fixed
capacity of filling up what corresponds to the long or short places of
a classical verse--is, in English, very small. There are some which
the ear discovers by the awkwardness of the sound when they are forced
into a "short" place. So also there are some which--by the coincidence
of vowel quality, position, and absence of accent--it is practically
impossible to put into a "long" place, such as the second syllable
of "Deity." Nor are what are called "long vowel sounds"--the sounds
of "rīte," "fāte," "bēat," "Ēurope," "ōmen," "āwkward," etc.--always
sufficient to make a syllable inflexibly long; though they may be
sometimes. Again, the extremest "shortness" of vowel sound, as in "and"
or "if," will not prevent such syllables from being indubitably long in
certain values and collocations.
[Sidenote: The "common" syllable.]
In other words, that peculiarity of being "common"--that is to say, of
being capable of holding either position--which was far from unknown
in the classical languages, is very much more prevalent in English. It
would be quite false to say that every syllable in English is common;
but it is scarcely at all false to say that almost every English
_mono_syllable is, and an extremely large proportion of others.
The methods and movements by which this commonness is turned into
length or shortness for the purposes of the poet are obvious enough,
and in practice undeniable; though the processes of professional
phonetics sometimes tend to obscure or even to deny them. Every
well-educated and well-bred Englishman, who has been accustomed to
read poetry and utter speech carefully, knows that when he emphasises
a syllable like "and," "if," "the," etc., it becomes what the Germans
would call _versfähig_--capable of performing its metrical duty--in the
long position; that when he does not, it is not so capable. Every one
knows in practice, though it may be denied in theory, that similar
lengthening[17] follows the doubling of a consonant after a short
vowel, or the placing of a group of consonants of different kinds
after it--the vowel-sound running, as it were, under the penthouse of
consonants till it emerges. Extreme loudness and sharpness would have
the same effect in conversation, but, unless very obviously suggested
by sense, would escape notice in silent reading. Not very seldom, the
mere art of the poet will get weight enough on a short syllable to fit
it for its place as "long," or conjure away from a long one length
enough to enable it to act as "short."
At any rate, it is with these two values, and with syllables endowed
with them by custom, incidental effect, place, sense, the poet's
sleight of hand, or otherwise, that the English poet deals; and has
dealt, ever since a period impossible to nail down with exactness to
year or decade, but beginning, perhaps, early in the twelfth century
and perfecting itself in the thirteenth and later. And impartial
examination of the whole facts from that period shows that he deals
with them on a system, in early times no doubt almost or quite
unconsciously adopted, but perfectly recognisable. In still earlier
or "Old" English verse this system is not discernible at all; in the
earliest period of "Middle" English it is discernible, struggling to
get itself into shape. Later, with advances and relapses, it perfects
itself absolutely. Its principles are as follows:--
[Sidenote: Intermediate rules of arrangement.]
#Every English verse consists of a certain number of feet, made up of
long and short syllables, each of which is of equal consequence in the
general composition of the line.#
#The correspondence of the foot arrangements between different lines
constitutes the link between them, and determines their general
character.#
[Sidenote: Some interim rules of feet (expanded in note).]
#But this correspondence need not be limited to repetition of feet
composed of a fixed and identical number of syllables in the same
order; on the contrary, the best verse admits of large substitution
of feet of different syllabic length, provided--(1) that these are
equal or nearly equal in prosodic value to those for which they are
substituted; (2) that the substituted feet go rhythmically well with
those next to which they are placed.#[18]
A fuller list of observed rules for English verse
generally will be found in the next chapter, but between
the two a set of remarks, specially on the foot, may be
extracted from the larger _History_, vol. i. pp. 82-84.
#Every English verse which has disengaged itself from
the versicle[1] is composed, and all verses that are
disengaging themselves therefrom show a _nisus_ towards
being composed, of feet of one, two, or three syllables.#
#The foot of one syllable is always long, strong,
stressed, accented, what-not.#[19]
#The foot of two syllables usually consists of one long
and one short syllable, and though it is not essential
that either should come first, the short precedes rather
more commonly.#
#The foot of three syllables never has more than one
long syllable in it, and that syllable, save in the most
exceptional rhythms, is always the first or the third. In
modern poetry, by no means usually, but not seldom, it
has no long syllable at all.#
#The foot of one syllable is practically not found except#
_a_, #In the first place of a line.#
_b_, #In the last place of it.#
_c_, #At a strong cæsura or break, it being almost
invariably necessary that the voice should rest on it
long enough to supply the missing companion to make up
the equivalent of a "time and a half" at least.#
_d_, #In very exceptional cases where the same trick of
the voice is used apart from strict cæsura.#
#The foot of two syllables and that of three may, subject
to the rules below, be found anywhere.#
But:
#These feet of two and three syllables may be very freely
substituted for each other.#
#There is a certain metrical and rhythmical norm of
the line which must not be confused by too frequent
substitutions.#
#In no case, or in hardly any case,[20] must such
combinations be put together so that a juxtaposition of
more than three short syllables results.#
But, for the purpose of this present book, illustration and example
are of much more value than abstract exposition; and to them we shall
now turn.
Here, for instance, is a line from Tennyson's "Brook":
Twinkled the innumerable ear and tail.
[Sidenote: The different systems applied to a single verse of
Tennyson's,]
Now the system which regards syllabic precision first of all, with
a minor glance at accent, but rejects "feet," surveys this line and
pronounces it passable with the elision
Twinkled _th'_ innumerable ear and tail,
but rather shakes its head at the absence of accent, or the slight
and weak accent, in "innumer_a_ble," and the "inversion" of accent in
"twìnkled."
The system which looks at accent first of all pronounces that there are
only _four_ proper accents [stresses] here:
Twìnkled the innùmerable èar and tàil.
Both these systems, moreover--the syllabic, as far as it recognises
accent; the accentual, of necessity,--regard "twinkled" as the
admittance (pardonable, censurable, or quite condemnable, according
to individual theory) of "wrenched accent," "inverted stress," or
something of the kind--as a thing abnormal and licentious.
The foot system simply scans it--
Twīnklĕd | thĕ ĭnnū|mĕrā|blĕ ēar | ănd tāil;
regarding "twinkled" as a trochee substituted in full right for an
iamb, and "the innu-" as an anapæst in like case; "merā" as raised,
by a liberty not out of accordance with the actual derivation, to a
sufficiently long quantity for its position, and the other two feet as
pure iambs.
[Sidenote: and their application examined.]
Now let us examine these three views.
In the first place, the bare syllabic view (which, it is fair to
say, is almost obsolete, save among foreigners, though in consistency
it ought to find defenders at home) takes no account of any special
quality in the line at all. It is turned out to sample; the knife is
applied at "th'" to fit specification; and there you are. It differs
only from Southey's favourite heroic ejaculation
Aballiboozabanganorribo!
in being less "pure."
The syllabic-_plus_-accentual view passes it; but with certain
reservations. "Twinkled" is an "aberration," a "licence" perhaps
(in some views certainly), a more or even less venial sin, while
"-āble" with _a_ in a stressed or accented place is a case for more
head-shaking still. The line is saved; yet so as by fire.
So is it under the looser stress-accentual system, but by a fire more
devouring still. According to this latter, all rhythmical similarity
with its companion five-stress lines is lost on the one hand, and
on the other a jumble, with difficulty readable and absolutely
heterogeneous, is created in the line itself. Your first rhythmical
mouthful is "twink-," then you gabble over "led the innū-" till you
rest on this last; then you repeat the process (as soon as you have
breath enough) with "-merable ear," and finally you reach "and tail."
But you never find your fifth stress, and instead of continuous blank
verse you make the context a sort of clumsy Pindaric.[21]
Even if this last description be regarded as exaggerated, it will
remain a sober fact that, in all these handlings, either the beauty of
the line is obscured altogether, or it is smuggled off as a "licence,"
or it is converted into something individual, separated from its
neighbours, and possessing no kinship to them.
Yet the line, though not "a wonder and a wild desire," is a good one;
and (therein differing from their eighteenth-century ancestors) the
syllabists and accentualists would mostly nowadays allow this, though
their principles have to submit it to _privilegia_ and allowances to
make it out.
The foot arrangement makes no difficulty, needs no _privilegium_, and
necessarily applies none. The line is at once recognised by the ear as
a good line and correspondent to its neighbours, which, as a body, and
also at once when a few have been read, informed that ear that they
were five-foot lines of iambic basis. Therefore it will lend itself to
foot-arrangement on that norm. The five feet may be iambs, trochees,
anapæsts, spondees, tribrachs, and _perhaps_ (this is a question of
ear) dactyls and pyrrhics. These may be substituted for each other as
the ear shall dictate, provided that the general iambic base is not
overthrown or unduly obscured.
Further, these feet are composed of long and short syllables, the
length and shortness of which is determined to some extent by ordinary
pronunciation, but subject to various modifying influences of position
and juxtaposition. Under those laws to which all its companions are
equally and inevitably subject, _mutatis mutandis_, it makes itself out
as above:
Twīnklĕd | thĕ ĭnnū|mĕrā|blĕ ēar | ănd tāil--
trochee, anapæst, iamb, iamb, iamb. The justification of _ā_ in "āble"
has already been partly given; it may be added that in the actual
pronunciation of the word by good speakers there is a "secondary
accent" (as they call it) on the syllable.
Here there is no straining, no "private bill" legislation, no
separating of the line from its fellows, only a reasonable Reign of Law
with reasonable easements.
[Sidenote: Application further to his "Hollyhock" song.]
Let us now take a more complicated instance, also from Tennyson. In
that poet's first volume there was a "Song" which, unlike most of its
fellows, remained practically unaltered amid the great changes which he
introduced later. It has, I believe, always been a special favourite
with those who have been most in sympathy with his poetry. But, nearly
twenty years after its first appearance, it was described by no
ill-qualified judge (an admirer of Tennyson on the whole) in the words
given in the note:[22] and I believe it had been similarly objected
to earlier. Now what were the lines that excited this cry of agonised
indignation? They are as follows:--
A spirit haunts the year's last hours
Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers:
To himself he talks;
For at eventide, listening earnestly,
At his work you may hear him sob and sigh
In the walks;
Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks
Of the mouldering flowers:
Heavily hangs the broad sunflower
Over its grave in the earth so chilly;
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,
Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.
Now it is not very difficult to perceive the defects of this extremely
beautiful thing in the eyes of a syllabic-accentualist, as this critic
(whether knowing it or not) probably was.
The syllabists have always, by a perhaps natural though perhaps also
irrational extension of their arithmetical prepossession, disliked
lines of irregular length on the page. Bysshe would have barred
stanzas; a very few years before Tennyson's book, Crowe, then Public
Orator at Oxford, had protested against the exquisite line-adjustments
of the seventeenth century. To the pure accentualists the thing might
seem an unholy jumble, accented irregularly, irregularly arranged in
number, seemingly observing different rhythms in different parts.
Now see how it looks under the foot system:
A spi|rit haunts | the year's | last hours
Dwelling | amid | these yel|lowing bowers:
To himself | he talks;
For at e|ventide, list|ening ear|nestly,
At his work | you may hear | him sob | and sigh
In the walks;
Earth|ward he bow|eth the hea|vy stalks
Of the moul|dering flowers:
Hea|vily hangs | the broad | sunflower
O|ver its grave | in the earth | so chilly;
Hea|vily hangs | the hol|lyhock,
Hea|vily hangs | the ti|ger-lily--
the feet being sometimes, at the beginning of the lines, monosyllabic,
and of course of one long syllable only (Ēarth-|, Hēa-|, Ō-|);
sometimes dissyllabic, iambic mainly, but occasionally at least
_semi_-spondaic--
Ă spīr|ĭt hāunts | thĕ yēar's | lā̆st hōurs;
often trisyllabic, and then always anapæstic--
Fŏr ăt ē|vĕntĭde līst|ĕnĭng ēarn|ĕstlȳ̆.
Even so early in the present book this should need little comment;
but it may be the better for some. It is an instance of substitution
carried out boldly, but unerringly; so that, iamb and anapæst
being the coin of interchange and equivalence, the rhythm is now
iambic, now anapæstic chiefly, the two being not muddled, but
_fluctuant_--a prosodic part-song. And the foot system brings this
out straightforwardly and on its general principles, with no beggings
or assumptions whatever for the particular instance. Moreover, the
structure of the piece may be paralleled freely from the songs in
Shakespeare's plays.[23]
[Sidenote: Such application possible always and everywhere.]
It is indeed sometimes said that such methods of scansion as these
may apply very well to nineteenth-century poets, but that they are
out of place in regard to older ones. This is demonstrably false. The
method applies alike, and in like measure obviates all difficulties,
in examples of the thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth,
seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries. It is as applicable to the
early and mostly anonymous romancers and song-writers as to Tennyson,
it accommodates Shakespeare as well as Browning. To Milton as to
Shelley, to Dryden and Pope as to the most celebrated of our modern
experimenters, say to Miss Christina Rossetti or Mr. Swinburne, it
"fits like a glove." The rules in the next chapter, and the subjoined
examples fully scanned in Chapter VI., will show its application as
a beginning; the whole contents of this volume must give the fuller
illustration and confirmation.[24]
FOOTNOTES:
[15] The most recent, perhaps, and the most unfortunate competitor is
"stress-unit"--for there are most certainly feet (_i.e._ constitutive
divisions of lines) which include no stress at all.
[16] A full account of these would occupy a book bigger than the larger
_History_. Among the latest and most curious attempts on the subject is
one to mark off certain metrical rhythms as "accentual," certain others
as "quantitative." This (which partly results from the superfluous
anxiety to discover and isolate the sources of length and shortness)
makes something very like a chimera or a hotch-potch of English verse.
[17] In metrical quantity, not in vowel sound.
[18] Of Anglo-Saxon and very early Middle English poetry. See Scanned
Conspectus and Book II.
[19] Except, to speak paradoxically, when it is nothing at all. The
pause-foot or half-foot, the "equivalent of silence," is by no means
an impossible or unknown thing in English poetry, as, for instance, in
Lady Macbeth's line, I. v. 41--
Under | my bat|tlements. | ʌ Come, | you spirits,
where | spĭrīts, | though not actually impossible, would spoil the line
in one way, and "come," as a monosyllabic foot, in another.
[20] The exceptions, and probably the only ones, are to be found,
if anywhere, in some modern blank verse, where two tribrachs, or a
tribrach and an iamb or anapæst, succeed each other.
[21] It is difficult to see how this effect can be avoided by those who
think that accents or stresses, governing prosody, vary in Milton from
_eight_ to _three_.
[22] Having already called it "an odious piece of pedantry," the critic
(_Blackwood's Magazine_, April 1849) adds: "What metre, Greek or Roman,
Russian or Chinese, it was intended to imitate we have no care to
inquire: the man was writing English and had no justifiable pretence
for torturing our ears with verse like this."
[23] Such as "Under the Greenwood Tree."
[24] For cautions and additions, as well as explanations, see Glossary,
especially under "Foot," "Stress-unit," "Quantity," etc.
CHAPTER V
RULES OF THE FOOT SYSTEM
§ A. FEET
(_These_ Rules _are not imperative or compulsory precepts, but
observed inductions from the practice of English poets. He
that can break them with success, let him._)
[Sidenote: Feet composed of long and short syllables.]
#1. English poetry, from the first constitution of literary Middle
English to the present day, can best be scanned by a system of _feet_,
or groups of syllables in two different values, which may be called for
convenience _long_ (̄) and _short_ (̆).#
[Sidenote: Not all combinations actual.]
#2. The nature of these groups of syllables is determined by the
usual mathematical laws of permutation; but some of them appear more
frequently than others in English poetry, and some hardly occur at all.#
[Sidenote: Differences from "classical" feet.]
#3. Although, in the symbols of their constitution, these feet
resemble those of the classical prosodies, it does not follow that
they are identical with them, except mathematically,[25] the nature
of the languages being different; and, in particular, their powers of
combining in metre are far from being identical, so that combinations
of feet which are successful in Greek and Latin need by no means be
successful in English. Success is indeed almost limited to instances
where the metrical constituents are restricted to iambs (̆̄]), anapæsts
(̆̆̄]), and trochees (̄̆), with the spondee (̄̄) as an occasional
ingredient.#
[Sidenote: The three usual kinds--iamb, trochee, anapæst.]
#4. The iamb (̆̄), the trochee (̄̆), and the anapæst (̆̆̄) are by far
the commonest English feet; in fact, the great bulk of English poetry
is composed of them.#
[Sidenote: The spondee.]
#5. The spondee (̄̄) is not so unusual as has sometimes been thought;
but owing to the commonness of most syllables, especially in _thesis_,
it may often be passed as an iamb, and sometimes as a trochee.#
[Sidenote: The dactyl.]
#6. The dactyl (̄ ̆ ̆), on the other hand, though observable enough
in separate English words, does not seem to compound happily in
English, its use being almost limited to that of a substitute for the
trochee. Used in continuity, either singly or with other feet, it has a
tendency, especially in lines of some length, to rearrange itself into
anapæsts with anacrusis. In very short lines, however, this "tilt" has
not always time to develop itself.#
[Sidenote: The pyrrhic.]
#7. The pyrrhic (̆̆]) may occur in English, but is rarely wanted (see
note above on spondee).#
[Sidenote: The tribrach.]
#8. The tribrach (̆̆̆), however, has become not unusual.#
[Sidenote: Others.]
#9. Other combinations (for names see Glossary) than these are
certainly rare, and are perhaps never wanted in English verse, though
they are plentiful in prose. (See Rule 41 and Glossary.)#
§ B. CONSTITUTION OF FEET
[Sidenote: Quality or "quantity" in feet.]
#10. The quality, or contrast of quality, called "quantity," which fits
English syllables for their places as long or short in a foot, is not
uniform or constant.#
[Sidenote: Not necessarily "time,"]
#11. It does not necessarily depend on the amount of time taken to
pronounce the syllable; though there is probably a tendency to lengthen
or shorten this time according to the prosodic length or shortness
required.#
[Sidenote: nor vowel "quantity."]
#12. It does not wholly depend on the usual quantity[26] of the vowel
sound in the syllable; for long-sounding vowels are not very seldom
shortened, and short-sounding ones are constantly made long.#
[Sidenote: Accumulated consonants,]
#13. An accumulation of consonants after the vowel will lengthen it
prosodically, but need not necessarily do so.#
[Sidenote: or rhetorical stress,]
#14. Strong rhetorical stress will almost always lengthen if required.#
[Sidenote: or place in verse will quantify.]
#15. The place in verse, if cunningly managed by the poet, will
lengthen or shorten.#
[Sidenote: Commonness of monosyllables.]
#16. All monosyllables are common, the articles being, however, least
susceptible of lengthening, and the indefinite perhaps hardly at all.#
§ C. EQUIVALENCE AND SUBSTITUTION
[Sidenote: Substitution of equivalent feet.]
#17. The most important law of English prosody is that which permits
and directs the interchange of certain of these feet with others, or,
in technical language, the substitution of equivalent feet.#
[Sidenote: Its two laws.]
#18. This process of substitution is governed by two laws: one in a
manner _a priori_, the other the result of experience only.#
[Sidenote: Confusion of base must be avoided.]
#19. Substitution must not take place in a batch of lines, or even
(with rare exceptions) in a single line, to such an extent that the
base of the metre can be mistaken.#
[Sidenote: (Of which the ear must judge.)]
#20. Even short of this result of confusion the ear must decide whether
the substitution is allowable.#
[Sidenote: Certain substitutions are not eligible.]
#21. As a result of experience we find that the feet most suitable--if
not alone suitable--as substitutes for the iamb--the commonest
foot-staple--are the trochee, the anapæst, and the tribrach; that the
dactyl substitutes well, if not too freely used, for the trochee.[27]
These equivalences are reciprocal.#
§ D. PAUSE
[Sidenote: Variation of pause.]
#22. Next to equivalence, the most important and valuable engine in
the constitution of English verses is the variation of the middle or
internal pause.#
[Sidenote: Practically at discretion.]
#23. Except in very long lines--which always tend to pause themselves
either at the middle or at _two_ places more or less equidistant--there
is no reason why the pause of an English line should not be at any
syllable from the first to the penultimate, and none why it should or
should not occur at the end of a line, couplet, or even stanza--though
in the last-named case rather special reasons are required for its
omission. Not every line need necessarily have any pause at all.#
[Sidenote: Blank verse specially dependent on pause.]
#24. The effect of blank verse depends more upon pause-variation than
upon anything else; and by this variation, accompanied by stop or
overrun ("enjambment") at the end of the line, _verse-paragraphs_ are
constituted, which can contain _verse-clauses_ or _sentences_, in like
manner brought into existence by pauses.#
§ E. LINE-COMBINATION
[Sidenote: Simple or complex.]
#25. Lines, composed as above of feet, can be used in English either
continuously on the same or equivalent patterns, or in batches of two
or more.#
[Sidenote: Rhymes necessary to couplet.]
#26. The batches of two almost necessarily require rhyme to indicate
and isolate them, especially if the individual lines are of the same
length. Other batches [stanzas] might, as far as any _a priori_
objection goes, consist of unrhymed lines, symmetrically correspondent,
or irregular [Pindaric].#
[Sidenote: Few instances of successful unrhymed stanza.]
#27. It is, however, found in practice, despite the examples of
Campion, Collins, and one or two others, that rhymeless batching or
stanza-making is very seldom successful.#[28]
[Sidenote: Unevenness of line in length.]
#28. There is neither _a priori_ objection nor _a posteriori_
inconvenience to be urged against the construction of stanzas or
batches in lines of very uneven length.#
[Sidenote: Stanzas to be judged by the ear.]
#29. Every stanza-scheme must undergo, and is finally to be judged by,
the test of the ear, and that only.#
[Sidenote: Origin of commonest line-combinations.]
#30. The commonest and oldest line-combinations--octosyllabic couplet,
"common" or "ballad" measure, "long" and "short" measure, etc.--in some
cases demonstrably, in all probably, result from the breaking up of the
old long line ("fifteener" or "fourteener"), which itself came from the
metricalising of the O.E. double stave.#
§ F. RHYME
[Sidenote: Rhyme natural in English.]
#31. It is natural to English poetry--_i.e._ Middle and Modern English,
or English poetry proper--to rhyme; and, except in the case of blank
verse, no unrhymed measure for the last seven centuries has ever
produced large quantities of uniformly satisfactory quality.#
[Sidenote: It must be "full,"]
#32. Rhyme in English must be "full," _i.e._ consonantal (on the vowel
_and_ following consonant or consonants), not merely assonantal (on the
vowel only). Assonance by itself is insufficient.#
[Sidenote: and not identical.]
#33. It should not, according to modern usage, be _identical_--that is
to say, the rhyming syllables should not consist of exactly the same
vowels and consonants. But exceptions to this may be found in good
poets, especially when the _words_ are not the same.#
[Sidenote: General rule as to it.]
#34. Good rhyme has necessarily varied, at different times, with
pronunciation; but a certain rough rule may be seen prevailing not
uncommonly, that vowels in rhyme may take the value which they have in
words other than those actually employed.[29]#
[Sidenote: Alliteration.]
#35. What is sometimes called "_head_-rhyme" (_i.e._ "alliteration")
has now no place in English as rhyme at all, nor does it constitute
either metre or stanza; but it is a permissible, and often a very
considerable, ornament to verse.#
[Sidenote: Single, etc., rhyme.]
#36. Rhyme is either single (on the last syllable only), double (on the
two last), or triple (on the three last). Beyond three the effect would
be burlesque, and this is hard to keep out of triple rhyme, and even
sometimes seems to menace the double.#
[Sidenote: Fullness of sound.]
#37. In serious poetry the fuller in sound the single rhyme is the
better.#
[Sidenote: Internal rhyme permissible,]
#38. Rhyme is usually at the end of the line; but it may be "internal";
that is to say, syllables at one or even more than one place within
the line may rhyme to the syllable at the end or to each other, and
syllables within one line may rhyme to those at corresponding places
within another.#
[Sidenote: but sometimes dangerous.]
#39. But this has a dangerous tendency to break the lines up.#
§ G. MISCELLANEOUS
[Sidenote: Vowel-music.]
#40. The effect of English poetry at all times, but especially for
the last hundred years, has been largely dependent on _Vowel-music_.
This is by no means limited to the practice of what used to be called
"making the sound suit the sense," though the two sometimes coincide.
Vowel-music, not without occasional assistance from consonants,
establishes a sort of _accompaniment_ to the intelligible poetry--a
prosodic _setting_.#
[Sidenote: "Fingering."]
#41. In the management of this, as of rhyme, pause, enjambment,
and even the selection and juxtaposition of feet themselves, the
poet often, if not as a rule in the best examples, uses particular
sleights of fingering and execution parallel to those of the musical
composer and performer. The results of this may appear to constitute
verse-sections different from the feet. But these, however, never
supersede feet, and are always resolvable into them; nor do they ever
supply criteria for anything except the individual line or passage.
They stand to prosody proper very much as delivery or elocution
does to rhetoric. The conveniences of this "fingering," or poetic
elocution, as well as sense and other things, may sometimes bring about
_alternative_ scansions, but all these connect themselves with and are
obedient to the general foot system.#[30]
[Sidenote: Confusion of rhythms intolerable.]
#42. Despite this possibility of alternative scansion, and the other
and commoner possibility of substitution of individual feet, iambic
and trochaic, dactylic and anapæstic, metre or rhythm remain entirely
distinct. Any system which regards these as merely different names
for the same thing is self-condemned as disregarding the evidence, or
rather verdict, of the ear.#
FOOTNOTES:
[25] See above, Rule 2. It should be hardly necessary to remark
that the explanations and exemplifications of these rules are to be
furnished by the whole book, and that the Glossary in particular should
be in constant use.
[26] _E.g._ "fāte" or "fāst" as opposed to "făt"; "mēet" to "dĕter";
"rīte" to "fĭt"; "ōmen" to "ŏtter"; "dūpe" to "bŭt."
[27] The combination of dactyl and trochee in English, however, will
not produce the same effect as the combination of dactyl and spondee in
Latin or Greek.
[28] Rules 26 and 27 do not apply to _un_metrical verse, such as the
old alliterative couplet-line, or the rhythmed prose-verse of _Ossian_,
Blake, and Whitman.
[29] Thus Dryden rhymes "travell_er_" to "st_ar_," giving the _er_ the
value it has in "cl_er_k."
[30] For elucidation and example see below, in Glossary, as above
noted, p. 8. The "sections" referred to are not those of Guest.
CHAPTER VI
CONTINUOUS ILLUSTRATIONS OF ENGLISH SCANSION ACCORDING TO THE FOOT
SYSTEM
I. OLD ENGLISH PERIOD
_Scansion only dimly visible._
No better examples can be taken for this than two already used by
Dr. Sievers--the close of the _Phœnix_ with its illuminative Latin
admixture, and a bit of _Beowulf_ (205 _ff._)(dotted foot division
added in first case):
Háfað ¦ us alýfed ¦ _lucis_ | _auctor_
Þœt we mó¦tun hér ¦ _meru_ |_eri_
ȝóddædum be¦ȝiétan ¦ _gaudia in_ | _coelo_
Pǽr we ¦ mótun ¦ _maxima_ | _regna_.
Hǽfde se ȝoda || Géata téoda
cémpan ȝecórene || þara þe ne cénóste
findan míhte || fíftener súm
súndwudu sóhte || sécȝ wísade
láȝucræftig món || lándȝemýrcu.
In these the general trochaic run and the corresponding tendency to
dactylic substitution, which are so evident in the Latin, as it were
_muffle_ themselves in the English; and the contrast, so strikingly
brought out in the mixed passage, is not really less evident in the
pure Anglo-Saxon one. The muffling is the result, partly of the
imperfect substitution, or rather the actual presence of syllables
not digested into the metre; partly of the overbearing middle pause,
which, suggesting another in each section, chops the whole up into
disconnected grunts or spasmodic phrases.
II. LATE OLD ENGLISH WITH _NISUS_ TOWARDS METRE
(_"Grave" Poem. Guest's text, spelling, and accentuation;
the usual marks for the latter being substituted for his
dividing bars, and foot division added in dots._)
Thé wes ¦ bóld ge¦býld || er ¦ thú i¦bóren ¦ wére,
Thé wes ¦ mólde i¦mynt || er ¦ thú of ¦ móder ¦ cóme,
Ác hit ¦ nés no i¦díht ¦|| né theo ¦ deópnes i¦méten,
Nés gyt i¦lóced || hu ¦ lóng hit the ¦ wére.
Here an immense advance is made. The rhythm is still trochaic,
though it is by no means certain that it does not show symptoms
of _iambicisation_. It is far more well marked; and one of the
means of the marking is that the "ditch in the middle"--the formal
pause,--though no doubt technically and even rhetorically existing, is
overrun by the suggested feet as long as the trochee is kept. But if
this pause holds its place it suggests _iambic_ scansion--
The | wes bold | gebyld;
and something like the whole future of English poetry lies in the
suggestion. Do not omit to notice the metrical assistance given by the
epanaphora, or repetition of the same word and phrases in the same
place, and by the imperfect and irregular assonances emphasising the
divisions.
III. TRANSITION PERIOD
_Metre struggling to assert itself in a New Way._
_Part of the verses of St. Godric._
Sainte ¦ Mari¦e Vir¦gine
Moder Je¦su Cris¦tes Na¦zarene
Onfang ¦ schild ¦ help thin ¦ Godric,
Onfang ¦ bring he ¦ gelich ¦ mit the ¦ in God¦es ric.
A distinct effort at iambic stanza, such as that of the great Ambrosian
hymn, _Veni Redemptor gentium_.
It is not surprising if the experimenter stumbles, if the old trochaic
rhythm is sometimes in his head, and if, in the last verse, he either
overruns or divides and makes a quintet. The struggle towards feet--and
new feet--is there, and rhyme, if imperfect, is there also.
IV. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Attempt at merely Syllabic Uniformity with Unbroken Iambic Run and no
Rhyme._
_Orm._
And nu | icc wil|le shæ|wenn yuw
summ-del | withth God|ess hellp|e
Off thatt | Judiss|kenn follk|ess lac
thatt Drih|htin wass | full cwem|e.
The moral of this (whether it be written as above in eights and sevens
or continuously as "fifteeners") is unmistakable, as stated before:
the writer, for all his scrupulous indication of short _vowels_, seems
to care no more than if he were a modern Frenchman for _syllabic_
quantity, or even for accent. He will have his fifteen syllables,
his pause at the eighth, and his sing-song run of seven dissyllabic
batches and a feminine ending. But, will he nill he, he impresses--with
whatever sing-song effect and whatever merciless iteration--the iambic
beat throughout his whole enormous work.
V. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Conflict or Indecision between Accentual Rhythm and Metrical Scheme._
_Layamon._
1. {Þa an|swære|de Vor|tiger--
{of ælc | an vu|ele he | wes wær.
2. {Nulle ¦ ich heom ¦ belauen ||
{bi mine ¦ quike live.
3. {For Hen|gest is | hider | icumen,
{He is | mi fa|der and ich | his sune.
4. {And ich ¦ habbe ¦ to leof-monne ||
{his dohter ¦ Rowenne.
These four couplets (continuous in the original) exhibit perfectly the
process which was going on. (2) is a rather shapeless example of the
old scarcely metrical Anglo-Saxon line with a roughly trochaic rhythm;
and (4) is not very different. But (3) is a not quite successful,
though recognisable, attempt at a rhymed (it is actually assonanced)
iambic dimeter or octosyllabic couplet. And (1) is this couplet
complete at all points in rhythm, metre, and rhyme--capable, in fact,
of being exactly quantified and rendered exactly into modern English,
all but the dropped final _e_:
Thĕn ān|swĕrēd|[ĕ] Vōr|tĭger
ŏf īlk | ăn ē|vĭl hē | wăs wāre.
VI. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_The Appearance and Development of the "Fourteener."_
The exact origin[31] of the "fourteener," "septenar" (as the Germans
call it), "long Alexandrine" (as it was very improperly termed in
England for a time), "seven-foot" or "seven-accent" line--to give its
various designations--is a matter of conjecture. The "fifteener" of
Orm with the redundant syllable lopped off; a variation with iambic
or "rising stress" rhythm substituted for trochaic or falling, and a
syllable added in the popular Latin metre of
Meum est propositum in taberna mori;
with other things; most probably of all, a shortened metrification of
the old long line, to represent the frequent inequality of its halves
better than the octosyllabic couplet--have been suggested. It holds,
however, such an important place in English prosody from the early
thirteenth to the late sixteenth century, and its resolution into the
ballad couplet or "common measure" is of so much greater importance
still, that it can hardly have too much attention.
The extraordinarily prosaic and "stumping" cadence of the _Ormulum_
perhaps obscures the connection, especially as this rigid syllabisation
makes trisyllabic feet impossible. But the true rhythm appears, though
still with a redundant syllable, in the famous _Moral Ode_, the older
versions of which are dated before Orm. The oldest, as it is supposed
to be, of these shows the form in full existence--
Ich em | nu al|der thene | ich wes | a win|tre and | a la|re.
But the youngest--
Ich | am el|der than | ich wes | a win|ter and eke | on lo|re--
gives a priceless improvement; for even if "nu" has dropped out, the
resulting monosyllabic foot is quite rhythmical, the trisyllabic "-ter
and eke" is unmistakable, and the life and spirit that it gives to the
verse equally so.
In the course of the thirteenth century the form develops immensely.
As a continuous one, it furnishes the staple of the _Chronicle_ and
_Saints' Lives_, attributed--the former certainly and the latter
probably in at least some cases--to Robert of Gloucester. As thus in
Lear's complaint:
Mid yox|ing and | mid gret | wop || þas | began | ys mone
Alas! | alas! | þe luþ | or wate | that fyl|est me | þos one:
Þat | þus | clene | me bryngst | adoun || wyder | schal I | be broȝht?
For more | sorwe | yt doþ | me when || it co|meth in | my thoȝht.
. . . . . . .
Le|ve doȝ|ter Cor|deille, || to sþo|e þou seid|est me
Þat as muche | as ych | hadde y | was worþ | pei y | ne lev|ed the.
But before long it shows, though it may be still written on, an
evident tendency to break up into ballad measure, as in the (also
thirteenth-century) _Judas_ poem:
Hit wes upon a scere-Thursday
That ure Laverd aros,
Ful milde were the wordes
He spec to Judas:
"Judas, thou most to Jursalem
Oure mete for to bugge,
Thritti platen of selver
Thou bere upo thi rugge.
VII. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_The Plain and Equivalenced Octosyllable._
We have seen how, in Layamon, the regular rhymed octosyllabic couplet
or iambic dimeter ("four-stress line," etc.) shows itself, either as a
deliberate alternative to the old long line, or as a half-unconscious
result of the endeavour to adjust it to the new metrical tendencies
of the language. And we saw, also, that its examples in Layamon
himself vary from absolute normality to different stages of licence
or incompleteness. Before long, however, we find _two_ varieties
establishing themselves, with more or less distinct and definite
contrast. The first, which seems to keep French or Latin examples
more or less strictly before it, is exemplified in _The Owl and the
Nightingale_, and scans as follows:
Wi nul|tu singe | an oth|er theode,
War hit | is much|ele mo|re neode?
Thu nea|ver ne | singst in | Irlonde,
Ne thu | ne cumest | nogt in | Scotlonde:
Hwi nul|tu fa|re to Nor|eweie?[32]
And sing|en men | of Gal|eweie?
Thar | beoth men | that lut|el kunne
Of songe | that is | bineothe | the sunne.
Here, it will be observed, there is practically no licence except
a few doubtful _e_'s, and that of omitting one syllable and making
the line "acephalous" iambic or catalectic trochaic. This form was
followed largely, and, from Chaucer and Gower onwards, by most poets,
except Spenser, till the time of Chatterton, Blake, and Coleridge in
_Christabel_.
Side by side with it, however, a form embodying the special
characteristic of the new English prosody-- equivalent
substitution--exhibits itself in full force in the
mid-thirteenth-century _Genesis and Exodus_, as well as in other
miscellaneous poems and in the romances. Here are specimens from
_Genesis and Exodus_, 2367-2376:
Josep | gaf ilc | here twin|ne srud,
Benia|min most | he ma|de prud;
Fif we|den best | bar Ben|iamin
Thre hun|dred plates | of sil|ver fin,
Al|so fele | o|there | thor-til,
He bad | ben in | is fa|deres wil,
And x | asses | with se|mes fest;
Of all | Egyp|tes welth|e best
Gaf he | is brethe|re, with her|te blithe,
And bad | hem ra | pen hem hom | ward swithe.
And from _Richard Cœur de Lion_, 3261-3268:
Nay quod | Kyng Rich|ard, be God | my lord,
Ne schal | I ne|vyr with him | acord!
Ne hadde ne|vyr ben | lost A|cres toun
Ne had|de ben | through hys | tresoun.
Yiff he yil|de again | my fad|erys tresour
And Jeru|salem | with gret | honour,
Thenne | my wrath|e I hym | forgive
And ne|vyr ellys | whyl that | I live.
Here, it will be observed, the foot of _three_ syllables--generally,
if not always, an anapæst--and even, it would seem, that of _one_
sometimes, are freely substituted for that of _two_, adding immensely
to the variety, spirit, and freedom of the line. The first "ne hadde"
is perhaps run together.
VIII. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_The Romance-Six or "Rime Couée."_
At an uncertain period in the thirteenth century this makes its
appearance--no doubt directly imitated from the French, but probably
also in part a derivative of the application of metrical tendency
to the aboriginal line-couplet. Its French name[33] is not, to
our eyes, appropriate --one would rather call it "waisted" or
"waisted-and-tailed rhyme"; and as it is very largely (in fact,
with the plain couplet predominantly) used in the English romances,
"romance-six" as opposed to "ballad-four" seems a good name for it. It
sometimes, however, extends to three, four, or even six sets of two
eights and a six, and is found both plain and equivalenced, as thus:
The brid|des sing|e, it is | no nay,
The spar|hauk and | the pap|ejay,
that joy|e it was | to here.
The thrus|telcok made eek | his lay,
The wo|de dowv|e upon | the spray
She sang | ful loud|e and clere.
(Chaucer, _Sir Thopas_.)
As soon|e as the em|peroure yil|dyd the gast,
A prowd|e gar|son came | in haste,
Sir Syn|agote | hight he--
And broght | an hun|dred hel|mes bright
Of har|dy men | that cowd|e wel fight
Of felde | wolde ne|ver oon flee.
(_Le Bone Florence of Rome_, 778-783.)
The plain form, as Chaucer, of malice prepense, showed in the above, is
particularly liable to sing-song effect.
IX. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Miscellaneous Stanzas._
(_a_) A very considerable number of these were introduced, sometimes
no doubt by direct imitation of French or (as in the case of the
"Burns-metre,"[34]) Provençal originals, sometimes by the ingenuity of
the individual poet, working on the plastic material of the blended
language, according to the new metrical foot-system. They all scan
easily by this, as may be seen in a stanza of _Tristrem_, one of the
Harleian Lyrics, and a "Burns stanza" from the York Plays; while
anapæstic substitution, amounting to something like "triple time" as a
whole, appears in the Hampolian extract.
The king | had a douh|ter dere,
That mai|den Y|sonde hight,
That gle | was lef | to here
And romaun|ce to rede | aright.
Sir Tram|tris hir | gan lere,
Tho, | with al | his might,
What al|le poin|tès were
To se | the sothe |in sight,
To say,
In Yr|lond nas | no knight,
With Y|sonde | durst play.
(_Sir Tristrem_, 1255-63.)
(_Three_-foot iambic with single-foot "bob." All final _e_'s sounded or
elided. One monosyllabic, and two or three trisyllabic, substitutions.)
Bytuen|e Mershe | ant A|veril
when spray bigin|neth to springe,
The lut|el foul | hath hi|re wyl
on hy|re lud | to synge;
Ich lib|be in ^|^ love-|longinge
For sem | lokest | of al|le thynge,
He may | me ^|^ blis|se bringe,
icham | in hire | baundoun.
An hen|dy hap | ichab|be y-hent,
Ichot | from hevene | it is | me sent,
From alle | wymmen | mi love | is lent
ant lyht | on A|lysoun.
(_Alison_, Harleian MS. p. 27, ed. Wright.)
(From the other stanzas it appears that the middle quatrain
should consist of three eights and a six, and that something has
dropped--supplied now by carets. Otherwise the scheme is clear.)
Fro thaym | is lost[e] | both[e] game | and glee.
He bad|de that they | schuld mais|ters be
Over all[e] kenn[e] thing, | outy-taen | a tree
He taught | them to be
And ther-|to went[e] | both she | and he
Agagne | his wille.
("York" Plays, vi. § 2.)
(The final _e_'s are beginning to be neglected, and the whole is
probably in strict iambics _here_, though vacillation between four-
and five-foot lines is not absolutely impossible. But there is
trisyllabic substitution elsewhere, though not very much. It may be
remembered that there is little of it in Burns's own examples of this
metre. Closer still to his is the following):
_Eve._ Sethyn[35] it | was so | me knyth | it sore,
Bot syth|en that wo|man witte|lles ware,
Mans mais|t[i]rie | should have | been more
Agayns | the gilte.
_Adam._ Nay at | my speech|e would thou ne|ver spare
That has | us spilte.
(_Ibid._ § 24.)
(_b_)
My tru|est trea|sure so trai|torly ta|ken,
So bit|terly bound|en with by|tand band|es,
How soon | of thy ser|vants wast thou | forsa|ken
And loathe|ly for my | life hurled | with hand|es
(Horstmann's _Hampole_, i. 72.)
(Probably, when first written, the ultimate _e_'s of the even lines
were sounded; but even this is not certain, and the superiority of the
shortening would soon have struck the ear.)
(_c_) More elaborate stanza from the Drama:
Myght|ful God | veray, || Ma|ker of all | that is
Thre per|sons without|en nay, || oone God | in end|les blis,
Thou maid|è both night | and day, || beest, fowle | and fish,
All crea|tures that | lif may || wrought | thou at | thy wish,
As thou | wel myght:
The sun, | the moyn|è, ve|rament
Thou maid|è: [and] | the fir|mament,
The star|rès al|so full | fervent
To shyn|e thou maid|e ful bright.
("Townley" Plays, iii. p. 23, E.E.T.S.)
X. EARLY MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Appearance of the Decasyllable._
The idea that the new metres in English were invariably direct copies
of those already existing in French (or Latin) seems to be decisively
negatived by the fact that the decasyllabic line--the staple, not
indeed in couplet but in long batches or _tirades_, of the earlier
French _chansons de geste_--makes a rare appearance in English verse
before the late fourteenth century. But it does appear, thereby, on the
other hand, negativing the notion that Chaucer "introduced" it, and
suggesting that it was, in part at least, a genuine _experiment_--not
in imitation, but in really independent development, of the
possibilities of English metre. Here are scanned examples of different
periods.
(_a_) Uncertain in _intention_, but assuming distinct couplet _cadence_:
Cristes | milde | moder | seynte | marie,
Mines | liues | leome | mi leou|e lefdi,
To the | ich buwe | and mi|ne kneon | ich beie,
And al | min heor|te blod | to the | ich offrie.
(_Orison of Our Lady_ (_c._ 1200).)
(_b_) Expansion of octosyllable in single line:
And nu|tes amig|deles | thoron|ne numen.
(_Genesis and Exodus_, 3840 (_c._ 1250).)
(_c_) In couplet:
And swore | by Je|su that | made moon | and star
Agenst | the Sara|cens he | should learn | to war.
(_Richard Cœur de Lion_, 2435-36 (before 1325?).)
(_d_) Overflow of octosyllable into decasyllable; probably, in the
first place, from the equivalenced lines lending themselves to another
run:
The bugh|es er | the ar|mes with | the handes,
And the | legges, | with the | fete | that standes.
(In Hampole's _Prick of Conscience_, 680, 681
(before 1350), with scores of others.)
XI. LATER MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_The Alliterative Revival--Pure._
The examples of this revival (see Book II.) cannot, of course, in their
nature, be strictly _scanned_. But it is important to bring out the
change of _rhythm_ as compared with the older examples (_v. sup._ p.
37).
(To prevent confusion with positive _metrical_ scansion, I have made
the scanning bars dotted, and have doubled the foot-division line for
the middle pause in the first extract.)
Hit bifel ¦ in that fo¦rest there fast ¦ by-side,
Ther woned ¦ a wel old cherl |¦| that was ¦ a couherde.
(_William of Palerne._)
(Notice that the _nisus_ towards anapæstic cadence overruns the break
both in the metre and, as at "-glent," "stor," "-port" below, in the
half line.)
Wende, wor¦thelych wyght ¦ vus won¦ez to seche,
Dryf ouer ¦ this dymme wa¦ter if thou ¦ druye findez,
Bryng bod¦worde to bot ¦ blysse ¦ to vus alle.
(_Cleanness._)
Thenne ho gef ¦ hym god-day ¦ and wyth a¦glent laghed,
And as ho stod ¦ ho stonyed hym ¦ with ful ¦ stor wordes,
"Now he that spedes ¦ uche spech ¦ this dis¦port yelde,
Bot that ye ¦ be Gaw¦ayn hit gotz ¦ in mynde."
(_Gawain and the Green Knight._)
XII. LATER MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_The Alliterative Revival--Mixed._
The metrical _additions_, on the other hand (see Book II.), and those
poems which, while employing alliteration, subject it to metrical
schemes, scan perfectly, as:
Quen thay | hade play|ed in halle,
As long|e as her wyll|e hom last,
To cham|bre he con | hym calle
And to | the chem|ne thay past.
. . . . . . .
"A' mon | how may | thou slepe,
This mor|ning es | so clere?"
He watz | in droup|ing depe
Bot thenne | he con | hir here.
("Wheels" of _Gawain and the Green Knight_.)
Fro spot | my spyryt | ther sprang | in space,
My bo|dy on balk|e ther bod | in sweven,
My gost|e is gon | in God|es grace,
In a|ventur|e ther mer|vayles meven.
(_The Pearl_, ii.)
Mone | makeles | of mighte,
Here co|mes ane er|rant knighte,
Do him | reson|e and righte
For thi | manhead.
("Wheel" of _The Awnyrs of Arthur_, xxvii.)
XIII. LATER MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Potentially Metrical Lines in Langland_ (see Book II).
Decasyllables:
For Ja|mes the gen|tel bond | it in | his book.
(A. i. 159.)
Thus I | live lov|eless lik|e a lu|ther dogge.
(A. v. 97.)
Alexandrines:
And ser|ved Treu|the soth|lyche | somdel | to paye.
(C. viii. 189.)
Adam | and A|braham | and Y|say the | prophete.
(B. xvi. 81.)
Fourteeners:
But if | he wor|che well | there-with | as Do|wel him | techeth.
(B. viii. 56.)
Of a|ny sci|ence un|der son|ne the se|ven arts | and alle.
(B. xi. 166.)
A large number might be added where the pronunciation which was shortly
to come in necessarily makes such lines, though they may not have been
intended as such; for instance--
Take we | her words | at worth, | for her | witness | be true;
(B. xii. 125.)
and even octosyllables will appear--
Ne no say robe in rich[e] pelure;
(A. iii. 277.)
partly explaining to us the chaos of lines in fifteenth-century poetry.
XIV. LATER MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Scansions from Chaucer._
Octosyllable:
Hit was | of Ve|nus re|dely,
This tem|ple; for | in por|treyture,
I saw | anoon | right hir | figure
Na|ked fle|tyng_e_ in | a see.
And al|so on hir heed, | parde,
Hir ro|se gar|lond white | and reed,
And | hir comb | to kemb|_e_ hir heed,
Hir dow|ves, and | daun Cu|pido,
Hir blin|de son|_e_, and Vul|cano,
That in | his fa|ce was | ful broun.
(_House of Fame_, i. 130-139.)
(_Two_ "acephalous" lines, initial monosyllabic feet, or trochaic
admixtures; some unimportant elisions before vowels and _h_; middle
pause not kept in lines 1, 4, 6, and 10.)
Rhyme-royal:
And down | from then|nès fast_e_ | he gan | avise
This li|tel spot | of erthe | that with | the see
Embra|cèd is, | and ful|ly gan | despise
This wrec|ched world, | and held | al vanite,
To re|spect of | the pleyne | feli|cite
That is | in heven|_e_ above. And at | the laste
Ther he | was slayn | his lo|king down | he caste.
(_Troilus and Criseyde_, v. 1814-20.)
(Metre quite regular, but pause much varied--practically _none_ in line
5. Elisions as above, but _e_'s not valued, or elided, in _erthe_,
_pleyne_. Final couplet hendecasyllabic, as indeed most are.)
(_a_) Riding rhyme or heroic couplet:
Whan that April|le with | his shou|res soote
The droght|e of March | hath per|ced to | the roote,
And bath|ed ev|ery veyn|e in swich | licour
Of which | vertu | engen|dred is |the fleur;
Whan Ze|phirus | eek with | his swe|te breeth
Inspi|red hath | in ev|ery holt | and heeth
The ten|dre crop|pes, and | the yon|ge sonne
Hath in | the Ram | his half|e cours | y-ronne,
And smal|e fowel|es ma|ken me|lodye,
That sle|pen al | the nyght | with o|pen eye,--
So pri|keth hem | Nature | in hir | corages,--
Thanne long|en folk | to goon | on pil|grimages,
And pal|meres for | to se|ken straun|ge strondes,
To fer|ne hal|wes, kowth|e in son|dry londes;
And spec|ially, | from ev|ery shi|res ende
Of En|gelond, | to Caun|terbury | they wende,
The hoo|ly blis|ful mar|tir for | to seke
That hem | hath hol|pen whan | that they | were seeke.
(Opening paragraph of _Canterbury Tales_.)
(Very regular; but possible trisyllabic feet wherever "every" occurs,
and a certain one in "Caunt|erbury|." Pause almost indifferently
at 4th and 5th syllables. French-Latin accent in "Natùre." Many
hendecasyllables or redundances; but all made by the _e_ in one form or
another.)
(_b_) "Acephalous" or nine-syllable lines:
Twen|ty bo|kes clad | in blak | or reed. (_Prol._ 274.)
(_c_) Alexandrines:
Westward, | right swich | ano|ther in | the op|posite.
(_K. T._ 1036.)
So sor|weful|ly eek | that I | wende ver|raily.
(_Sq. T._ 585.)
XV. LATER MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIOD
_Variations from Strict Iambic Norm in Gower._
(_a_) Trochaic substitution:
Ūndĕr | the gren|e thei | begrave.
(_Conf. Am._ i. 2348.)
(_b_) Anapæstic substitution:
Sometime | in cham|bre sometime | in halle.
(iv. 1331.)
Of Je|lousi|e, but what | it is
(v. 447.)
(_if the dissyllabic "ie" is insisted on_).
And thus | ful oft|e about|e the hals.
(v. 2514.)
It was | fantosm|e but yet | he heard.
(v. 5011.)
(It will be observed that in these four instances, all acknowledged by
Professor Macaulay, the final _e_ is required to make the trisyllabic
foot, though the first instance differs slightly from the others. I
should myself add a large number where Mr. Macaulay sees only "slur,"
but in which occur words like "ever" (i. 3), "many a" (i. 316, 317), or
syllables like "eth," which _must_ be valued in one case at least here--
To break_eth_ and renn_eth_ al aboute,
(_Prol._ 505.)
where Mr. Macaulay reads "tobrekth," and where the copyists very likely
made it so.)
(_c_) Acephalous lines:
Very rare if the _e_ be always allowed. Perhaps non-existent.
XVI. TRANSITION PERIOD
_Examples of Break-down in Literary Verse._
(_a_) Lydgate's decasyllabic couplet:
Ther he | lay to | the lar|kè song [̆̄]
With no|tès herd|è high | up in | the ayr.
The glad|è mor|owe ro|dy and | right fayr,
Phe|bus al|so cast|ing up | his bemes
The high|e hyl|les ʌ | gilt with | his stremes.
(_Story of Thebes_, 1250 _sqq._)
(3, tolerable; 2, ditto, with hiatus at cæsura; 1, last foot missing;
4, "acephalous"; 5, syllable missing at cæsura.)
(_b_) His rhyme-royal:
This is | to sein |--douteth | never | a dele--
That ye | shall have | ʌ ful posses|sion
Of him | that ye | ʌ cher|rish now | so wel,
In hon|est man|er, without|e offen|cioun,
Because | I know|e your | enten|cion
Is tru|li set | in par|ti and | in al
To loue | him best | and most | in spe|cial.
(_Temple of Glass_, st. 16.)
(_Two_ examples (2 and 3) of the so-called "Lydgatian" missing syllable
at cæsura.)
(_c_) A typical minor, John Metham, in _Amoryus and Cleopes_, stanza 1:
The charms | of love | and eke | the peyn | of Amo|ryus | the knyght
For Cleo|pes sake | and eke | how bothe | in fere
Lovyd | and af|tyr deyed, | my pur|pos ys | to indight.
And now, | O god|dess, I thee | beseche | off kun|ning that | have |
syche might,
Help me | to adorne | ther charms | in syche | maner
So that | qwere this | matere | doth yt | require
Bothe ther | lovys I | may compleyne | to loverys | desire.
(A fourteener, a decasyllable, an Alexandrine, a _six_teener, and three
decasyllables, the last very shaky either as that or as an Alexandrine!
In fact, sheer doggerel of the unintended kind.)
XVII. TRANSITION PERIOD
_Examples of True Prosody in Ballad, Carols, etc._
(_a_) _Chevy Chase_:
The Per|cy out | of Northum|berland,
And a vow | to God | made he,
That he | would hunt | in the moun|tains
Of Chev|iot within | days three,
In the mau|gre of dough|ty Doug|las
And all | that ever with | him be.
(It must be observed that this modern spelling _exactly_ represents the
old prosodically. The reader will then see that there are no liberties,
on the equivalent system, except the _crasis_ of "-viot" and "ever."
The former, insignificant in any case, is still more so here, for the
actual Northumbrian pronunciation is or was "Chevot"; while if "ever"
changes places with "that," there is not even any crasis needed.
For a piece so rough in phrase, and copied by a person so evidently
illiterate, the exactness is astonishing.)
(_b_) "E.I.O.":
To doom | we draw | the sooth | to schaw
In life | that us | was lent,
Ne la|tin, ne law, | may help | ane haw,[36]
But rath|ely us | repent.
The cross, | the crown, | the spear | bees bown,
That Je|su rug|ged and rent,
The nail|ès rude, | shall thee | conclude
With their | own ar|gument.
With E | and O take keep | thereto,
As Christ | himself | us kenned
We com|e and go | to weal | or woe,
That dread|ful doom | shall end.
(Spelling modernised as before, but not a word altered.)
XVIII. TRANSITION PERIOD
_Examples of Skeltonic and other Doggerel._
(_a_) Skelton:
I.
Mirry | Marga|ret
As mid|somer flower,
Gen|tyll as fau|coun
Or hauke | of the tower--
With sol|ace and glad|ness,
Much mirth | and no mad|ness,
All good | and no bad|ness:--
So joy|ously,
So maid|enly,
So wom|anly.
Her de|menyng
In ev|ery thyng
Far far | passyng
That I | can indite
Or suffyce | to write.
(_Crown of Laurel._)
II.
But to make | up my tale,
She bru|eth nop|py ale,
And ma|kethe there|of sale,
To travel|lers, || to tink|ers,
To sweat|ers, || to swink|ers,
And all | good || ale-drink|ers
That will noth|ing spare
But drynke | till they stare
And bring | themselves bare,
With "now | away | the mare,
And let | us slay Care,
As wise | as an hare."
(_Elinor Rumming._)
(_b_) Examples from Heywood and other interludes.
(1) Continuous long doggerel:
I can|not tell | you: one knave | disdains | another,
Wherefore | take ye | the tone | and I | shall take | the other.
We shall | bestow | them there | as is most | conven|ient
For such | a coup|le. I trow | they shall | repent
That ev|er they met | in this | church here.
(2) Singles:
(_Shortened six._)
This | wyse him | deprave,
(_Octosyllable._)
And give | the ab|solu|tion.
(_Irregular decasyllable._)
The aboun|dant grace | of the | powèr | divyne
(_Alexandrine._)
Preserve | this aud|ience | and leave | them to | inclyne.
(_Irregular fourteener._)
Then hold | down thine | head like | a pret|ty man | and take |
my blessing.
(In all these examples the doggerel is probably _intended_; that is
to say, the writers are not aiming at a regularity which they cannot
reach, but cheerfully or despairingly renouncing it.)
XIX. TRANSITION PERIOD
_Examples from the Scottish Poets._
(_a_) Barbour (regular octosyllables):
The kyng | toward | the vod | is gane,
Wery, | for-swat and vill | of vayn;
Intill | the wod | soyn en|terit he,
And held | doun to|ward a | valè,
Quhar throu | the vod | a vat|tir ran.
Thiddir | in gret | hy went | he than,
And | begouth | to rest | hym thair,
And said | he mycht | no for|thirmair.
(_One_ "acephalous" line.)
(_b_) Wyntoun (octosyllables somewhat freer):
Thir sev|yn kyng|is reg|nand were
A hun|der ful|l_y and for_|ty year,
And fra | thir kyng|is thus | can cess
In Ro|me thai che|_sit twa con_|sulès.
(IV. ii. 157-160.)
(_c_) Blind Harry (regular decasyllables on French model):
Than Wal|lace socht | quhar his | wncle suld be;
In a | dyrk cawe | he was | set|dul|fullè,
Quhar wat|ter stud, | and he | in yrn|yss strang.
Wallace | full sone | the brass|is wp | he dang;
Off that | myrk holl | brocht him | with strenth | and lyst,
Bot noyis | he hard, | off no|thing ellis | he wyst.
So blyth | befor | in warld | he had | nocht beyn,
As thair | with sycht, | quhen he | had Wal|lace seyn.
(_d_) James I. (rhyme-royal):
For wak|it and | for-wal|owit, thus | musing,
Wery | forlain | I list|enyt sod|dynlye,
And sone | I herd | the bell | to ma|tyns ryng,
And up | I rase, | no lon|ger wald | I lye:
Bot soon, | how trow|e ye? Suich | a fan|tasye
Fell me | to mynd | that ay | me thoght | the bell
Said to | me, "Tell | on, man, | what the | befell."
(_e_) Henryson (ballad measure; slight anapæstic substitution):
Makyne, | the night | is soft | and dry,
The wed|_dir is warm_ | and fair,
_And the gre_|nè wuid | richt neir | us by
To walk | out on | all quhair:
Thair ma | na jan|gloor us | espy,
That is | to lufe | contrair,
Thairin, | Makyne, | bath ye | and I
Unseen | we ma | repair.
Those who deny the valued _e_ in "grenè," as not Scots, may refuse the
second instance of trisyllabic feet, but the first will remain.
(_f_) Dunbar (alliterative):
I saw thre gay ladeis sit in ane grein arbeir,
All grathit into garlandis of fresche gudelie flouris;
So glitterit as the gold wer thair glorius gilt tressis,
Quhill all the gressis did gleme of the glaid hewis;
Kemmit was thair cleir hair, and curiouslie sched
Attour thair schulderis doun schyre, schyning full bricht.
Dunbar (dimeter iambic quatrains with refrain, and much anapæstic
substitution):
Come ne|vir yet May | so fresch|e and grene,
Bot Jan|uar come | als wud and kene--
Wes nev|ir sic drowth | bot anis | come raine,
_All erd_|_ly joy_ | _returnis_ | _in pane_.
(_g_) Alexander Scott (stanzas):
It cumis | yow luv|aris to | be laill,
Of bo|dy, hairt | and mynd | al haill,
And though | ye with | year la|dyis daill--
Ressoun;
Bot and | your faith | and law|ty faill--
Tressoun!
. . . . . . .
Be land | or se,
Quhaur ev|ir I be,
As ye | fynd me,
So tak | me;
And gif | I le,
And from | yow fle,
Ay quhill | I de
Forsaik | me!
(_h_) Montgomerie (_Cherry and Slae_ stanza):
About | ane bank | quhair birdis | on bewis
Ten thou|sand tymis | thair notis | renewis
Ilke houre | into | the day,
The merle | and ma|ueis micht | be sene,
The Prog|ne and | the Phel|omene,
Quhilk caus|sit me | to stay.
I lay | and leynit | me to | ane bus
To heir | the bir|dis beir;
Thair mirth | was sa | melo|dious
Throw na|ture of | the yeir;
Sum sing|ing, || some spring|ing
With wingis | into | the sky,
So trim|lie, || and nim|lie,
Thir birdis | they flew | me by.
XX. EARLY ELIZABETHAN PERIOD
_Examples of Reformed Metre from Wyatt, Surrey, and other Poets before
Spenser._
(_a_) Wyatt (sonnet)
The long[e] | love that | in my | thought I | harbèr
And in | my heart | doth keep | his re|sidence,
Into | my face | presseth | with bold | pretence,
And there | campèth | display|ing his | bannèr:
She that | me learns | to love | and to | suffèr,
And wills | that my | trust and | lust[e]s neg|ligence
Be rein|ed by rea|son, shame, | and rev|erence,
With his | hardì|ness tak|ès dis|pleasùre,
Wherewith | love to | the hart[e]s | forest | he fleèth,
Leaving | his en|terprise | with pain | and cry,
And there | him hi|deth and | not àp|pearèth. |
What may | I do? | when my | master | feareth,
But in | the field | with him | to live | and die,
For good | is thè | life end|ing faith|fully.
(I formerly scanned line 9:
Wherewith | love to |the hart's fo|rest he | fleèth.
But "forèst" is so frequent and makes such a much better rhythm
that perhaps it should be preferred. It will, however, emphasise
still further the poet's curious uncertainty about the "-_eth_"
rhymes--whether he shall arrange them on that syllable only, or take
in the penultimate. Besides this point, the student should specially
notice the pains taken to get, not merely the feet, but the syllables
right at the cost sometimes of pretty strongly "wrenched" accent. On
all this see Book II. The final _è_'s are rather a curiosity than
important: longè _may_ have been sounded, "lust_e_" and "hart_e_" (so
printed in Tottel) improbably.)
(_b_) Wyatt (lyric stanza):
Forget | not yet | the tried | intent
Of such | a truth | as I | have meant,
My great | travàil, | so glad|ly spent,
Forget | not yet!
Forget | not yet | when first | began
The wea|ry life | ye know, | since whan
The suit, | the ser|vice, none | tell can--
Forget | not yet!
(It will be observed that this rondeau-like motion, with its short
lines and frequent repetition, is brought off better than the sonnet,
though the French accent sticks in _travàil_.)
(_c_) Surrey (sonnet):
I nev|er saw | my la|dy lay | apart
Her cor|net black, | in cold | nor yet | in heat,
Sith first | she knew | my grief | was grown | so great;
Which o|ther fan|cies dri|veth from | my heart,
That to | myself | I do | the thought | reserve,
The which | unwares | did wound | my woe|ful breast.
But on | her face | mine eyes | mought ne|ver rest
Yet, since | she knew | I did | her love, | and serve
Her gold|en tress|es clad | alway | with black,
Her smil|ing looks | that hid[es] | thus ev|ermore
And that | restrains | which I | desire | so sore.
So doth | this cor|net gov|ern me, | alack!
In sum|mer sun, | in win|ter's breath, | a frost
Whereby | the lights | of her | fair looks | I lost.
(Observe how much more surely and lightly the younger poet treads in
the uncertain pioneer footsteps of the elder.)
(_d_) Surrey ("poulter's measure"):
Good la|dies, ye | that have || your pleas|ures in | exile,
Step in | your foot, | come take | a place | and mourn | with me |
a while;
And such | as by, | their lords || do set | but lit|tle price,
Let them | sit still, | it skills | them not | what chance | come on |
the dice.
But ye | whom love | hath bound || by or|der of | desire
To love | your lords, | whose good | deserts | none oth|er would |
require,
Come ye | yet once | again || and set |your foot | by mine,
Whose wo|ful plight | and sor|rows great | no tongue | can even |
define.
(Very little to be said for it, except as a school of regular rhythm.
Broken up into "short measure" (6, 6, 8, 6) it has been not ineffective
in hymns.)
(_e_) Gascoigne (lyric stanza):
Sing lull|aby, | as wom|en do,
Wherewith | they bring | their babes | to rest,
And lull|aby | can I | sing too,
As wom|anly | as can | the best.
With lull|aby | they still | the child;
And if | I be | not much | beguiled,
Full ma|ny wan|ton babes | have I
Which must | be stilled | with lull|aby.
(_f_) Turberville (lyric stanza):
As I | in this | have done | your will,
And mind | to do,
So I | request | you to | fulfil
My fan|cy too,
A green | and lov|ing heart | to have,
And this | is all | that I | do crave.
(Observe in both of these the absolute syllabic regularity, and
_observance_ of foot-rhythm.)
XXI. SPENSER[37] AT DIFFERENT PERIODS
(_a_) _Shep. Kal._ (strict stanza):
Thou bar|ren ground, | whom win|ter's wrath | has wasted,
Art made | a mir|ror to | behold | my plight:
Whilome | thy fresh | spring flower'd, | and af|ter hasted
Thy sum|mer proud, | with daf|fodil|lies dight;
And now | is come | thy win|ter's storm|y state,
Thy man|tle marr'd | wherein | thou mask|edst late.
(Regular iambs throughout. One double rhyme.)
(_b_) _Shep. Kal._ (equivalenced octosyllable--_Christabel_ or _Genesis
and Exodus_ metre):
His harm|ful hat|chĕt hĕ hēnt | in hand,
(Alas! | that it | so read|y̆ shŏuld stānd!)
And to | the field | alone | he speedeth,
(Aye lit|tle help | to harm | there needeth!)
Anger | nould let | him speak |tŏ thĕ trēe,
Enaun|tĕr hĭs rāge | mought cool|ed bee;
But to | thĕ rŏot bēnt | his sturd|y stroke,
And made | măny̆ wōunds | in the | waste oak.
The ax|e's edge | did oft turne | again,
As half | unwill|ĭng tŏ cūt | the grain.
Seemed | the sense|less ir|on did fear,
Or to | wrong ho|ly eld | dĭd fŏrbēar--
For it | had been | an an|cient tree,
Sacred | with ma|ny̆ ă mȳs|tery,
And of|ten crossèd | with the pries|tès cruise
And of|ten hal|lowed with ho|ly wa|ter dews.
(Observe that this last is the only distinct, if not the only
_possible_, decasyllabic couplet, while it can become an Alexandrine
by valuing "hal|lowèd" |; and that "priestès" is the only attempt at
valued Chaucerian _e_.)
(_c_) _Shep. Kal._ (equivalenced stanza):
Bring hi|thĕr thĕ pīnk and pur|ple col|umbine,
With gil|lyflowers;
Bring cor|ona|tions | and sops | in wine,
Worn of | părămōurs:
Strow me | the ground | with daf|fadown | dillies,[38]
And cow|slips and | kingcups | and lov|ed lil|liès:
The pret|ty paunce,
And the chev|isaunce,
Shall match | with the fair | flow'r delice.
It may be just desirable to remind the student that a final "-ion"
is commonly dissyllabic in the sixteenth and earlier seventeenth
centuries. "Worn of par|amours" is possible.
(_d_) "Spenserian" stanza (occasional, but mostly slight, equivalence.
Pause in ll. 1-8 at discretion; in 9 usually at middle, but, as in the
following, not always):
So pass|eth, in | the pass|ing of | a day
Of mor|tal life, | the leaf, | the bud, | the flower;
No more | doth flour|ish af|ter first | decay
That erst | was sought | to deck | both bed | and bower
Of ma|ny̆ ă lā|dy̆ ănd mā|ny̆ ă pār|amour!
Gather, | therefore, | the rose | while yet | is prime,
For soon | comes age | that will | her pride | deflower:
Gather | the rose | of love | whilst yet | is time,
Whilst lov|ing thou | mayst lov|èd be | with e|qual crime.
(_e_) _Mother Hubberd's Tale_ (antithetic and stopped heroic couplet):
Full litt|le know|est thou | that hast | not tried,
What hell | it is, | in su|ing long | to bide:
To lose | good days | that might | be bet|ter spent;
To waste | long nights | in pen|sive dis|content;
To speed | to-day, | to be | put back | to-morrow;
To feed | on hope, | to pine | with fear | and sorrow;
To have | thy Prin|ce's grace, | yet want | her Peer's;
To have | thy ask|ing, yet | wait ma|ny years;
To fret | thy soul | with cross|es and | with cares;
To eat | thy heart | through com|fortless | despairs;
To fawn, | to crouch, | to wait, | to ride, | to run,
To spend, | to give, | to want, | to be | undone.
(_f_) _Epithalamion_ (elaborate quasi-Pindaric stanza concerted in
different line length, but almost strictly iambic; "the," etc., before
a vowel being probably elided):
Open | the tem|ple gates | unto | my Love,
Open | them wide | that she | may en|ter in,
And all | the posts | adorn | as doth | behove,
And all | the pil|lars deck | with gar|lands trim,
For to | receive | this Saint | with hon|our due,
That com|eth in | to you.
With trem|bling steps, | and hum|ble rev|erence,
She com|eth in, | before | th' Almight|y's view:
Of her, | ye vir|gins, learn | obe|dience,
When so | ye come, | into | those ho|ly places,
To hum|ble your | proud faces:
Bring her | up to | th' High Al|tar, that | she may
The sa|cred ce|remo|nies there | partake
The which | do end|less ma|trimo|ny make;
And let | the roar|ing or|gans loud|ly play
The prai|ses of | the Lord | in live|ly notes,
The whiles | with hol|low throats
The cho|risters | the joy|ous an|them sing,
That all | the woods | may an|swer, and | their ech|o ring!
XXII. EXAMPLES OF THE DEVELOPMENT OF BLANK VERSE
(_a_) _Surrey_ (translation of _Aeneid_):
It was | the night; | the sound | and qui|et sleep
Had through | the earth | the wear|y bod|ies caught,
The woods, | the ra|ging seas, | were fallen |to rest,
When that | the stars | had half | their course | declined.
The fields | whist: beasts | and fowls | of di|vers hue,
And what | so that | in the | broad lakes | remained,
Or yet | among | the bush|y thicks | of briar,
Laid down | to sleep | by sil|ence of | the night,
'Gan swage | their cares, | mindless | of tra|vails past.
Not so | the spirit | of this | Phenic|ian.
Unhap|py she | that on | no sleep | could chance,
Nor yet | night's rest | enter | in eye | or breast.
Her cares | redoub|le: love | doth rise | and rage | again,
And ov|erflows | with swell|ing storms | of wrath.
(The interest of the new mode here is manifold. The lines are almost
wholly "single-moulded," the author's anxiety to keep himself right
without rhyme necessitating this. The cæsura at the fourth syllable
is _almost_ always kept, according to the tradition of the French
line. _Once_ (in the penultimate line) he has to overflow; but
into an Alexandrine, not into the next line. Whether by intention
or not--"sprite" being possible--he _once_ discovers the enormous
advantage of the trisyllabic foot.[39] _Once_ he makes with "rest" and
"breast" the oversight of a "Leonine" rhyme. But, on the whole, the
success is remarkable for a beginning; and there are indications of
what has to be done to secure the end.)
(_b_) First dramatic attempts--_Gorboduc_ onwards:
[Sidenote: _Sackville and Norton._]
Your won|ted true | regard | of faith|ful hearts
Makes me, | O king, | the bold|er to | resume,
To speak | what I | conceive | within | my breast:
Although | the same | do not | agree | at all
With that | which o|ther here | my lords | have said,
Nor which | yourself | have seem|èd best | to like.
(_Gorboduc._)
[Sidenote: _Hughes and others._]
What! shall | I stand | whiles Ar|thur sheds | my blood?
And must | I yield | my neck | unto | the axe?
Whom fates | constrain |let him | forego | his bliss.
But he | that need|less yields | unto | his bane
When he | may shun, | does well | deserve | to lose
The good | he can|not use. | Who would | sustain
A ba|ser life | that may | maintain | the best?
(_Misfortunes of Arthur._)
[Sidenote: _Peele._]
Were ev|ĕry̆ shīp | ten thou|sand on | the seas,
Manned with | the strength | of all | the eas|tern kings,
Convey|ing all | the mon|archs of | the world,
Tŏ ĭnvāde | the is|land where | her High|ness reigns--
'Twere all | in vain: | for heav|ĕns ănd dēs|tinies
Attend | and wait | upon | her Maj|esty!
(_Battle of Alcazar._)
[Sidenote: _Greene._]
Why thinks | King Hen|ry's son | that Mar|gărĕt's lōve
Hangs in | thĕ ŭncēr|tain bal|ance of | proud time?
That death | shall make | a dis|cord of | our thoughts?
No! stab | the earl: | and ere | the morn|ing sun
Shall vaunt | him thrice | over | the lof|ty east,
Mārgărĕt | will meet | her Lac|y in | the heavens!
(_F. Bacon and F. Bungay._)
[Sidenote: _Marlowe._]
Black is | the beau|ty of | the bright|est day!
The gol|den ball | of Heav|en's eter|nal fire,
That danced | with glo|ry on | the sil|ver waves,
Now wants | the glo|ry that | inflamed | his beams:
And all | for faint|ness and | for foul | disgrace,
He binds | his tem|ples with | a frown|ing cloud,
Ready | to dark|en earth | with end|less night.
(_Tamburlaine._)
(An extreme stiffness and "single-mouldedness" in the lines; modified
in Peele and Greene by trisyllabic feet, perhaps not intended as such
("heav'n" was pretty certainly regarded and generally spelt as a
monosyllable, and the pronunciations "ev'ry" and "Margret" are old;
while "t'invade" and "th'uncertain" would be likely), but virtually so,
and inviting, especially in "Margaret," the full and beautiful value.
The _Gorboduc_ form, as is natural, is much the least accomplished. It
is indeed what, by an almost incomprehensible inversion of sense and
nature, some people call "blank verse _according to the rules_"--ten
syllables only, five almost strictly iambic feet (="accent on the even
places"); pause near the middle; stop, metrical, if not grammatical, at
every end--in fact, the roughest and most rudimentary form possible.)
(_c_) Early non-dramatic blanks (Gascoigne):
And on | their backs | they bear | both land | and fee,
Castles | and towers, | reven|ues and | receipts,
Lordships | and ma|nors, fines,|--yea farms|--and all.
"What should | these be?" | (speak you, | my love|ly lord?)
They be | not men: | for why, | they have | no beards.
They be | no boys, | which wear | such side|long gowns.
They be | no gods, | for all | their gal|lant gloss.
They be | no devils, | I trow, | which seem | so saintish.
What be | they? wom|en? mask|ing in | men's weeds
With dutch|kin doub|lets and | with jerk|ins jagged?
With Span|ish spangs, | and ruffs | set out | of France,
With high | copt hats | and feath|ers flaunt-|a-flaunt?
They be, | so sure, | even _woe_ | to _men_ | indeed.
(It will be noticed that the "single-moulded" character is even more
noticeable here than in drama, and is emphasised by the _epanaphora_.
There is one redundance--"saintish" ("jagged" is probably "jagg'd"),
and, as we know that the author thought the iamb the only English foot,
we must not read "rĕvĕnue," but, with "tow'rs," "revènue"--which indeed
was, by precisians, regarded as the correct pronunciation not so very
long ago.)
(_d_) Perfected "single-mould":
[Sidenote: _Peele._]
Come, gen|tle Ze|phyr, trick'd | with those | perfùmes
That erst | in E|den sweet|en'd Ad|am's love,
And stroke | my bos|om with |thy silk|en fan:
This shade, | sun-proof, | is yet | no proof | for thee;
Thy bo|dy, smooth|er than | this wave|less spring,
And pu|rer than | the sub|stance of | the same,
Can creep | through that | his lan|ces can|not pierce:
Thou, and | thy sis|ter, soft | and sa|cred Air,
Goddess | of life, | and gov|erness | of health,
Keep ev|ery fount|ain fresh | and ar|bour sweet;
No bra|zen gate | her pas|sage can | repulse,
Nor bush|y thick|et bar | thy sub|tle breath:
Then deck | thee with | thy loose | delight | some robes,
And on | thy wings | bring del|icate | perfumes,
To play | the wan|ton with | us through | the leaves.
(_David and Bethsabe._)
[Sidenote: _Marlowe._]
If all | the pens | that ev|er po|ets held
Had fed | the feel|ing of | their mas|ters' thoughts,
And ev|ery sweet|ness that | inspir'd | their hearts,
Their minds, | and mu|ses, on | admir|èd themes;
If all | the heav|enly quint|essence | they 'still
From their | immort|al flowers | of po|esy,
Wherein | as in | a mir|ror we | perceive
The high|est reach|es of | a hu|man wit;
If these | had made | one po|em's per|iod,
And all | combined | in beau|ty's worth|iness,
Yet should | there hov|er in | their rest|less heads
One thought, | one grace, | one won|der at | the least,
Which in|to words | no vir|tue can | digest.
(_Tamburlaine._)
(These passages, despite their extreme poetical beauty, are still
prosodically immature. Even when, as in the last, there are lines
with no technical "stop" at the end, as at "held" and "heads," the
grammatical incompleteness does not interfere with the rounding off of
the prosodic period or sub-period. Marlowe (_v. inf._) could enjamb
_couplet_ beautifully, but not blank verse. Note also that the lines
are strictly decasyllabic, the only hints at trisyllabic feet being
in words like "Heaven," then regularly a monosyllable, "ev_e_ry," and
"flow_e_rs.")
(_e_) Shakespeare.
(1) Early single-moulded:
Upon | his blood|y fin|ger he | doth wear
A pre|cious ring, | that light|ens all | the hole,
Which, like | the ta|per in | some mon|ument,
Doth shine | upon | the dead | man's earth|y cheeks,
And shows | the rag|ged en|trails of | the pit.
(_Titus Andronicus._)
(Same remarks applying as to the last citation.)
(2) Beginning of perfected stage:
Why art | thou yet | so fair? | shall I | believe
That un|substan|tial death | is am|orous,
And that | the lean | abhor|rèd mon|ster keeps
Thee here | in dark | to be | his par|amour?
For fear | of that, | I still | will stay | with thee:
And ne|ver from | this pal|ace of | dim night
Depart | again: | here, here | will I | remain
With worms | that are | thy cham|ber-maids; | O, here
Will I | set up | my ev|erlast|ing rest.
And shake | the yoke | of in|auspic|ious stars
From this | world-wear|ied flesh.
(_Romeo and Juliet._)
(No trisyllabic feet yet, and no redundance: but, by shift of pause and
completer juncture of lines, the paragraph effect solidly founded.)
(3) Further process in the same direction:
Nay, || but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: || those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files | and musters of the war
Have glowed like plated Mars, || now bend, | now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: || his captain's heart,
Which | in the scuffles of great fights | hath burst
The buckles on his breast, || rene[a]g[u]es all temper,
And is become | the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust.
(_Antony and Cleopatra._)
(Here the double division marks indicate stronger, and the single
lighter, _pauses_--not, as usually in the latter case, _feet_. The
variation of the pause for paragraph effect is here consummate; but the
verse, as its conditions require, is of the severer type.)
(4) Perfection in passion:
Blow winds, | and crack | your cheeks! | rage! | blow!
You cat|aracts | and hur|rica|noes, spout
Till you | have drench'd | our stee|ples, drown'd | the cocks!
You sul|phurous and | thought-ex|ecut|ing fires,
Vaunt-cour|iers to | oak-cleav|ing thun|derbolts,
Singe my | white head! | And thou, | all-shak|ing thunder,
Smite flat | the thick | rotund|ity o' | the world!
Crack na|ture's moulds, | all ger|mens spill | at once,
That make | ingrate|ful man!
(_King Lear._)
(Every extension taken. Monosyllabic feet either at the first "blow"
and "winds," or the last, and "rage," perhaps at both (an Alexandrine).
Trisyllabic at "-phŭrŏus ānd," "rĭĕrs tō," and "ĭty̆ ō̆'." Redundance
at "-ing thun⋮der." Pause fully played upon as above: enjambment at
"spout"; parenthetic enjambment at "fires.")
(5) Perfection in quiet:
Our rev|els now | are end|ed. These | our actors,
As I | foretold | you, were | all spir|its, and
Are melt|ed in|to air, | into | thin air:
And, like | the base|less fab|ric of | this vision,
The cloud-|capped towers, | the gor|geous pal|aces,
The sol|emn tem|ples, the | great globe | itself,
Yea, all | which it | inher|it, shall | dissolve
And, like | this in|substan|tial pa|geant faded,
Leave not | a rack | behind. | We are | such stuff
As dreams | are made | of, and | our lit|tle life
Is round|ed with | a sleep.
(_The Tempest._)
(Not much trisyllabic--the dreaminess not requiring it. A good deal
of redundance, and enjambment pushed nearly to the furthest by taking
place at "and."[40])
(_f_) Redundance encroaching.
Beaumont and Fletcher:
"Oh | thou conqu[e]ror,
Thou glo|ry of | the world | once, now | _the pity_:
Thou awe | of na|tions, where|fore didst | _thou fail us_?
What poor | fate fol|lowed thee, | and plucked | thee on
To trust | thy sa|cred life | to an | _Egyptian_?
The life | and light | of Rome | to a | _blind stranger_,
_That hon|oura|ble war | ne'er taught | a no|bleness_
Nor wor|thy cir|cumstance | show'd what | _a man was_?
That ne|ver heard | thy name | sung but | _in banquets_
And loose | lasciv|ious pleas|ures? to | a boy
That had | no faith | to com|prehend | _thy greatness_,
No stud|y of | thy life | to know | _thy goodness_?...
_Egyp|tians, dare | you think | your high | pyra|mides_
Built to | out-dure | the sun, | as you | suppose,
Where your | unworth|y kings | lie rak'd | _in ashes_,
Are mon|uments fit | for him! | No, brood | _of Nilus_,
Nothing | can cov|er his | high fame | _but heaven_;
No pyr|amid | set off | his mem|ories,
But the | eter|nal sub|stance of | _his greatness_,
To which I leave him."
(_The False One._)
(Here it will be seen there are two actual Alexandrines (_three_ if we
allow the full value to "con|queror|") and _twelve_ redundant lines to
_four_ non-redundant! The fire of the poetry fuses this, but cannot
always be counted on, as in the next.)
(2) If I | had swelled | the sol|dier, or | _intended_
An act | in per|son lean|ing to | _dishonour_,
As you | would fain | have forced | me, _wit|ness Heaven_,
Where clear|est und|erstand|ing of | _all truth is_
(For men | are spite|ful men, | and know | _no pi[e]ty_).
When O|lin came, | grim O|lin, when | _his marches_,
etc., etc., etc.
(_The Loyal Subject._)
(Which, with its repetition of stumbling amphibrachic ends, is rather
hideous.)
(_g_) Spread of the infection, and complete decay of blank verse from
various causes.
(1) Shirley:
I dare,
With conscience or my pure intent, try what
Rudeness you find upon my lip, 'tis chaste
As the desires that breathe upon _my language_.
I began, Felisarda, to _affect thee_
By seeing thee at prayers; thy virtue winged
Love's arrows first, and 'twere a sacrilege
To choose thee now for sin, that hast a power
To make | this place | a tem|ple by | thy in|nocence.
I know thy poverty, and came not to
Bribe it against thy chastity; if thou
Vouchsafe thy fair and honest love, it shall
Adorn my fortunes which shall stoop to serve it
In spite of friends or destiny.
(_The Brothers._)
(Actual _scansion_ quite correct, and therefore not marked throughout.
Redundance not excessive ("innocence" may be taken as such, and not
as making an Alexandrine, if liked); hardly any, and no misused,
trisyllabic feet. But enjambment at "what," "to," "thou," and "shall"
badly managed.)
(2) Suckling:
Softly, | as death | itself | comes on
When it | doth steal | away | the sick | man's breath,
And standers-by perceive it not,
Have I trod the way unto their lodgings.
How wisely do those powers
That give | us hap|piness or|der it!
(_Aglaura._)
(A hopeless jumble. The 1st, as a fragment, and 2nd lines are all
right, and the 6th could be completed properly. But 3, 4, and 5--though
3 and 5 _could_ come in with other companions--upset any kind of
continuous arrangement, and 4 would hardly be good anywhere.)
(3) Davenant:
Rhodolinda doth become her title
And her birth. Since deprived of popular
Homage, she hath been queen over her great self.
In this captivity ne'er passionate
But when she hears me name the king, and then
Her passions not of anger taste but love:
Love of her conqueror; he that in fierce
Battle (when the cannon's sulphurous breath
Clouded the day) her noble father slew.
(_Albovine._)
(More hopeless still, and left unscanned for the student's edification.)
(_h_) The Miltonic Restoration.
Early dramatic experiment.
_Comus_ is evidently written under three different influences, which
may be said to be in the main those of Marlowe, Shakespeare, and
Fletcher. The poet often uses Fletcher's heavy trisyllabic endings--
Bore a bright golden flower, but not | ĭn thĭ̄s sŏ̄il;
and has not infrequent Alexandrines, the most certain of which is--
As to | make this | rela|tion.
Care | and ut|most shifts.
But he makes the verse more and more free and original, as in the
following extracts:
Yea, there | where ve|ry des|ola|tion dwells,
By grots | and ca|verns shagged | with hor|rid shades,
She may | pass on | with un|blenched maj|esty,
Be it | not done | in pride | or in | presump|tion.
Some say | no ev|il thing | that walks | by night,
In fog | or fire, | by lake | or moor|ish fen,
Blue mea|gre hag, | or stub|born un|laid ghost,
That breaks | his mag|ic chains | at cur|few time,
No gob|lin or |swart fa|ery of | the mine,
Hath hurt|ful power | o'er true | virgin|ity.
Do ye | believe | me yet, | or shall | I call
Anti|quity | from the | old schools | of Greece
To test|ify | the arms | of chas|tity?
Hence had | the hunt|ress Di|an her | dread bow,
Fair sil|ver-shaft|ed queen | for ev|er chaste,
Wherewith | she tamed | the brind|ed li|oness
And spot|ted moun|tain-pard, | but set | at nought
The fri|vŏlŏus bōlt | of Cu|pid; gods | and men
Feared her | stern frown, | and she | was queen | ŏ' thĕ wōods.
. . . . . . .
Methought it was the sound
Of riot and ill-managed merriment,
Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe
Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,
When, for their teeming flocks and granges full,
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,
And thank the gods amiss.
(The full comments given on previous passages make it unnecessary
to annotate this much. The last passage has the full paragraph
combination.[41])
XXIII. EXAMPLES OF ELIZABETHAN LYRIC
(_a_) Prae-Spenserian:
Not light | of love, la|dy,
Though fan|cy do prick | thee,
Let con|stancy | possess | thy heart:
Well wor|thy of blam|yng
They be | and defam|ing,
From plight|ed troth | which back | do start.
Dear dame!
Then fick|leness ban|ish
And fol|ly extin|guish,
Be skil|ful in guid|ing,
And stay | thee from slid|ing,
And stay | thee,
And stay | thee!
(_Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions_ (1578).)
(Anapæstic substitution (if not definite anapæstic base) arising
doubtless rather from _tune_ than from deliberate prosodic purpose; but
quite prosodically correct, and sure to propagate itself.)
(_b_) Post-Spenserian:
My bon|ny lass, | thine eye,
So sly
Hath made | me sor|row so--
Thy crim|son cheeks, | my dear,
So clear,
Have so | much wrought | my woe,
(_Phœnix Nest_ (1593).)
(Pure iambics; effect produced by short "bob" rhymes.)
(_c_) Ben Jonson (strict common measure):
Drīnk tŏ | me on|ly with | thine eyes
And I | will pledge | with mine;
Or leave | a kiss | but in | the cup
And I'll | not look | for wine.
The thirst | that from | the soul | doth rise
Doth ask | a drink | divine;
But might | I of | Jōve's nēc|tar sip,
I would | not change | for thine.
(As mostly with Ben, strict iambics, save for the opening trochee,
and something like a spondee in "Jove's nec-." The wonderful effect
which he, or Donne, or the Spirit of the Age, taught to the next two
generations is produced entirely by careful choice and fingering of the
words and rhymes.)
(_d_) Ben Jonson (anapæstic measure):
See the cha|riot at hand | here of Love!
Wherein | my La|dy rid|eth.
Each that draws | is a swan | or a dove,
And well | the car | Love guid|eth.
As she goes, | all hearts | do du|ty
Unto | her beau|ty;
And enam|oured do wish, | so they might
But enjoy | such a sight,
That they still | were to run | by her side
Th[o]rough ponds, | th[o]rough seas, | whither she | would ride.
("Through," as often, is probably to be valued "thorough," and
"chariot" was generally "chawyot" or "charret." It will be observed
that although this is fine it is slightly laboured. The age was hardly
at ease with the anapæst as yet.)
(_e_) Campion (selections):
{ _English_ Fōllŏw, | fōllŏw,
{ _anacreontic._ Though with | mischief
{ Armed like | whirlwind
{ How she | flies still.
{
{ _English_ Constant | to none, | but ev|er false | to me,
(1) { _elegiac._ Traitor | still to | love through thy | false
Classical { desires,
{ Not hope | of pit|y now, |nor vain | redress,
{ Turns my | grief to | tears and
{ re|newed la|ments.
{
{ _English_ Rose-|cheeked Lau|ra, come;
{ _iambic._ Sing | thou smooth|ly with | thy beauty's
{ Sil|ent mu|sic, ei|ther other
{ Sweet|ly gracing.
{ Fōllŏw thȳ făir sūn, ŭnhāppy̆ shādŏw!
{ Thŏugh thōu | bĕ blāck ăs nīght,
{ And she | made all | of light,
{ Yet fol|low thy | fair sun,| unhap|py shadow!
(2) {
Natural { Break now,| my heart, | and die! | O no, | she may | relent--
{ Let my | despair | prevail! O stay, | hope is | not spent.
{ Should she | now fix | one smile | on thee, | where were |
{ despair?
{ The loss | is but ea|sy which smiles | can repair;
{ A stran|ger would please | thee, if she | were as fair.
The student should require little assistance here, odd as some of the
rhythms may seem. But "Rose-cheeked Laura" ought to be _trochaically_
scanned, and will then be _naturally_ "English." Nothing can make the
"English elegiac" harmonious. Note that line 3 of "Break now" _may_ be
anapæstic like 4 and 5:
Shŏuld shĕ nōw | fĭx ŏne smīle, etc.[42]
XXIV. EARLY CONTINUOUS ANAPÆSTS
(_a_) Tusser (1st ed. 1557; complete, 1573):
Now leeks | are in sea|son for pot|tage full good,
And spar|eth the milch | cow and purg|eth the blood:
These hav|ing with pea|son for pot|tage in Lent,
Thou spar|est both oat|meal and bread | to be spent.
(Perfectly good, though not very euphonious.)
(_b_) Gifford, H. (1580):
If I | should write rash|ly what comes | in my train
It might | be such mat|ter as likes | you not best,
And ra|ther I would | great sor|row sustain
Than not | to fulfil | your law|ful request.
(_c_) _Mary Ambree_ (_c._ 1584):
[When] cap|tains coura|geous whom death | could [not] daunt
[Did march | to the siege of] the ci|ty of Gaunt,
They mus|tered their sol|diers by two | and by three,
And the fore|most in bat|tle was Ma|ry Ambree.
(Percy patched the bracketed words (his copy being evidently corrupt)
in lines 1 and 2. But 3 and 4 are exactly as in the folio; and their
anapæstic base is quite clear. At the same time, it is worth remarking
that these early lines are apt, frequently though not regularly, to
buttress their start on a dissyllabic foot.)
XXV. THE ENJAMBED HEROIC COUPLET (1580-1660)
(_a_) Spenser.
The very opening of _Mother Hubberd's Tale_ (1591), quoted above (p.
62) in its stopped aspect, shows the way to enjambment:
It was | the month | in which | the right|eous Maid,
That for | disdain | of sin|ful world's | upbraid,
Fled back | to heaven.
And we have, further, an instance as shocking to "regular" prosodists
as anything in the seventeenth century:
Whilome, | said she, | before | the world | was civil,
The Fox | and th' Ape, | _dislik|ing of | their evil
And hard | estate_.
(_b_) Marlowe--as remarkable in _Hero and Leander_ for this as for
"single-moulding" in blank verse:
Where the ground
Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves
Sweet-singing mermaids sported with their loves
On heaps of heavy gold.
(_c_) Drayton began with fairly separated couplets; but indulged in
overrunning later, as in _David and Goliath_:
Grim vis|age war | more stern|ly doth | awake
Than it | was wont | and _fur|ĭŏusly̆̄
Her light|ning sword_.
(_d_) Browne:
It chanced one morn, clad in a robe of grey,
And blushing oft, as rising to betray,
Enticed this lovely maiden from her bed
(So when the roses have discoverèd
Their taintless beauties, flies the early bee
About the winding alleys merrily)
Into the wood, and 'twas her usual sport,
Sitting where most harmonious birds resort,
To imitate their warbling in Aprìl,
Wrought by the hand of Pan, which she did fill
Half full of water.
(The actual verse-sentence does not end for another half-dozen lines;
but the scansion is so perfectly regular that it seems unnecessary to
mark it. "Aprìl" is quite Spenserian, and has both Latin and French
justification.)
(_e_) The later seventeenth-century enjambers:
_Chalkhill._ The rebels, as you heard, being driven hence,
Despairing e'er to expiate their offence
By a too late submission, fled to sea
In such poor barks as they could get, where they
Roamed up and down, which way the winds did please,
Without a chart or compass: the rough seas
Enraged with such a load of wickedness,
Grew big with billows, great was their distress;
Yet was their courage greater; desperate men
Grow valianter with suffering: in their ken
Was a small island, thitherward they steer
Their weather-beaten barks, each plies his gear;
Some row, some pump, some trim the ragged sails,
All were employed and industry prevails.
(_Thealma and Clearchus_, 2203-2216.)
_Marmion._ When you are landed, and a little past
The Stygian ferry, you your eyes shall cast
And spy some busy at their wheel, and these
Are three old women, called the Destinies.
(_Cupid and Psyche_, iii. 259-262.)
_Chamberlayne._ But ere the weak Euriolus (for he
This hapless stranger was) again could be
By strength supported, base Amarus, who
Could think no more than priceless thanks was due
For all his dangerous pains, more beastly rude
Than untamed Indians, basely did exclude
That noble guest: which being with sorrow seen
By Ammida, whose prayers and tears had been
His helpless advocates, she gives in charge
To her Ismander--till that time enlarge
Her than restrained desires, he entertain
Her desolate and wandering friend. Nor vain
Were these commands, his entertainment being
Such as observant love thought best agreeing
To her desires.
(_Pharonnida_, IV. iii. 243-256.)
(The same remark applies here as to Browne. Some of these poets are
indeed great "apostrophators," such things as "t'" for "to," "b'"
for "by," and "'s" for "his" being common. But these uglinesses
are generally resorted to in order to attain or keep the strict
decasyllabic. Chalkhill (an actual Elizabethan, if he was anything)
is less shy of at least apparent trisyllabics, as in "bĕĭng drīv|en,"
"ex|pĭăte thēir.|" The double rhyme of "sea" to "they" and "seas" to
"please" is worth noticing; _v. sup._ Rule 34, p. 34.)
XXVI. THE STOPPED HEROIC COUPLET (1580-1660)
(_a_) Spenser (_Mother Hubberd's Tale_), _v. sup._ p. 62.
(_b_) Drayton (_Heroical Epistles_, "Suffolk to Margaret"):
We all do breathe upon this earthly ball,
Likewise one Heav'n encompasseth us all;
No banishment can be to us assigned
Who doth retain a true resolved mind;
Man in himself a little world doth bear,
His soul the monarch ever ruling there;
Wherever then his body doth remain
He is a king that in himself doth reign.
(Here all the characteristics of the eighteenth-century couplet may be
found--the central cæsura or split, the balance of the two halves, the
completion of sense in the couplet and almost in the line.)
(_c_) Fairfax (end couplets):
If fictious light I mix with Truth Divine
And fill these lines with other praise than Thine. (i. 2.)
We further seek what their offences be:
Guiltless I quit; guilty I set them free. (ii. 5.)
Thro' love the hazard of fierce war to prove,
Famous for arms, but famous more for love. (iii. 40.)
In fashions wayward, and in love unkind,
For Cupid deigns not wound a currish mind. (iv. 46.)
(Observe here the tendency, not merely to balance, but to positive
antithesis, in the halves.)
(_d_) Beaumont, Sir John:
The relish of the Muse consists in rhyme:
One verse must meet another like a chime.
Our Saxon shortness hath peculiar grace
In choice of words fit for the ending-place,
Which leave impression in the mind as well
As closing sounds of some delightful bell.
(_e_) Sandys.
Compare the openings of _Job_ I. and II.:
In Hus, a land which near the sun's uprise
And northern confines of Sabæa lies,
A great example of perfection reigned,
His name was Job, his soul with guilt unstained.
* * * * *
Again when all the radiant sons of light
Before His throne appeared, Whose only sight
Beatitude infused; the Inveterate Foe,
In fogs ascending from the depth below,
Profaned their blest assembly.
(_f_) Waller:
With the sweet sound of this harmonious lay
About the keel delighted dolphins play;
Too sure a sign of sea's ensuing rage
Which must anon this royal troop engage;
To whom soft sleep seems more secure and sweet
Within the town commanded by our fleet.
(_g_) Cowley (_Davideis_):
Lo! with pure hands thy heavenly fire to take,
My well-chang'd muse I a pure vestal make.
From Earth's vain joys and Love's soft witchcraft free,
I consecrate my Magdalene to thee.
Lo, this great work, a temple to thy praise
On polish'd pillars of strong verse I raise--
A temple where if thou vouchsafe to dwell
It Solomon's and Herod's shall excel.
(It should be observed on these that in Beaumont, Sandys I., Waller,
and Cowley the separation of the couplets is strictly maintained; in
Sandys II. not. In fact, this passage, but for the rhymes, has almost
the run of Miltonic blank verse. Waller once approaches an initial
trochee or "inversion of accent" in "With the." Here Cowley is pretty
regular. But not far off may be found such a line as--
Themselves at first against themselves _they excite_;
where he must either have intended "they-ex-" to be elided or have
meant an anapæstic ending of the kind so common in the dramatists his
contemporaries. And he constantly uses (explicitly defending it) the
Alexandrine, as in--
Like some | fair pine | o'erlook|ing all | th' igno|bler wood,
or--
Which runs, | and, as | it runs, | for ev|er shall | run on;
while he often employs trochees or spondees. He does not use the
triplet in the _Davideis_, but does elsewhere, and, after Virgil, he
sometimes indulges in half-lines.)
XXVII. VARIOUS FORMS OF OCTOSYLLABLE-HEPTASYLLABLE (LATE SIXTEENTH AND
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY)
(_a_) Shakespeare (doubtfully?):
(1) King Pan|dion | he is | dead,
All thy | friends are | lapped in | lead.
(2) Let | the bird | of loud|est lay
On | the sole | Ara|bian tree.
(These distichs from the _Passionate Pilgrim_ will illustrate the
two different forms which the heptasyllable--really an octosyllable
acephalous or catalectic--can take. The catalectic form (1) becomes
trochaic; the acephalous (2), iambic. They can be interchanged, and
either can group with the full iambic dimeter; but, _individually_, it
would spoil (1) to scan it as iambic, (2) to scan it as trochaic. Yet
on "accentual" scansion there is no difference; and some advocates of
recent fancy "stress"-systems maintain that the rhythms are identical!)
(_b_) Shakespeare (almost certainly):
The cat | with eyne |of burn|ing coal
Now couch|es 'fore | the mou|se's hole,
And crick|ets sing | at the ov|en's mouth
As | the ¦ blith|er ¦ from | their ¦ drouth.
(In this famous and eminently Shakespearian passage from _Pericles_,
the last line, a heptasyllable, goes perfectly with the rest, or
octosyllables, either as acephalous or as catalectic, either as an
iambic fellow or a trochaic substitute.)
(_c_) Shakespeare (certainly):
And we fairies, that do run
By the trìple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun
Follow¦ing | dark¦ness | like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallowed house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
(From _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Same as last, except that the
full octosyllable is only reached at the end, and perhaps in line 4.
"Hecat[e]," as often, is dissyllabic.)
(_d_) Browne, W.:
Be ev|er fresh! | Let no | man dare
To spoil | thy fish, | make lock | or wear,
But on | thy mar|gent still | let dwell,
Those flowers | which have | the sweet|est smell,
And let | the dust | upon | thy strand
Become, | like Ta|gus, gold|en sand.
Let as | much good | betide | to thee
As thou | hast fa|vour showed | to me.
(Pure octosyllables. There is a catalectic line now and then elsewhere,
but it is an evident exception.)
(_e_) Wither:
For | in ¦ her | a ¦ grace |there ¦ shines,
That o'er-daring thoughts confines,
Making worthless men despair
To be loved of one so fair.
Yea, the Destinies agree,
Some good judgments blind should be,
And not gain the power of knowing
Those rare beauties in her growing.
(Pure heptasyllables, taking either cadence, and, when extended, owing
the extension mainly, if not wholly, to the double rhyme. The first
line gives the alternative scansion; but Wither's run is, on the whole,
trochaic, as Browne's is iambic.)
XXVIII. "COMMON," "LONG," AND "IN MEMORIAM" MEASURE (SEVENTEENTH
CENTURY)
(_a_) See above, § XXIII., for "Drink to me only."
(_b_) Donne(?), Ayton(?), Anon.(?), (C.M.):
Thou sent'st | me late | a heart | was crowned,
I took | it to | be thine;
But when | I saw | it had | a wound,
I knew | that heart | was mine.
A boun|ty of | a strange | conceit!
To send | mine own | to me,
And send | it in | a worse | estate
Than when | it came | to thee.
(A capital example of the possibility of rhetorical _addition_ to the
strict foot-system, as in line 2, "I took it || to be thine."[43] For
"conc_ay_t" and "estate" _cf. sup._ § XXV. _sub fin._)
(_c_) Herrick (C.M.):
Bid me | to live | and I | will live
Thy Pro|testant | to be;
Or bid | me love, | and I | will give
A lov|ing heart to | thee.
(Strongly flavoured, and greatly improved, by trochaic substitution in
first foot.)
(_d_) Marvell (L.M.):
My love | is of | a birth | as rare
As 'tis | for ob|ject, strange | and high--
It was | begot|ten of | Despair
Upon | Impos|sibil|ity.
(_e_) Lord Herbert of Cherbury (_In Memoriam_ metre):
For whose | affec|tion once | is shown,
No long|er can | the world | beguile;
Who sees | his pen|ance all | the while
He holds | a torch | to make | her known.
(Great regularity of feet; but already the "circular" motion which
Tennyson was to perfect.)
XXIX. IMPROVED ANAPÆSTIC MEASURES (DRYDEN, ANON., PRIOR)
(_a_) Dryden (1691?):
While Pan | and fair Sy|rinx are fled | from our shore,
The Gra|ces are ban|ished, and Love | is no more:
The soft | god of plea|sure that warmed | our desires
Has brok|en his bow, | and extin|guished his fires,
And vows | that himself | and his moth|er will mourn,
Till Pan | and fair Sy|rinx in tri|umph return.
(These early anapæsts, as noted, are very apt to begin with dissyllabic
feet. But it was no rule: in this same piece, "The Beautiful Lady of
the May," occurs the line:
_All the nymphs_ | were in white | and the shep|herd in green.
(_b_) Anon. in _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719, but contents often
much older):
Let us drink |and be mer|ry, sing, dance, | and rejoice,
With cla|ret and sher|ry, theor|bo and voice.
The change|able world | to our joys | is unjust,
All trea|sure's uncer|tain, then down | with your dust!
On fro|lics dispose | your pounds, shil|lings, and pence,
For we | shall be no|thing a hun|dred years hence.
(_c_) Prior (1696):
While with la|bour assid|uous due plea|sure I mix,
And in one | day atone | for the bus|iness of six,
In a lit|tle Dutch chaise | on a Sat|urday night,
On my left | hand my Hor|ace, a nymph | on my right.
(Observe here in "assid[u]ous" and "bus[i]ness" the liberty
of combining adjacent vowels (-_uo_us) and following familiar
pronunciation (_biz_ness) which this light verse especially authorises.
XXX. "PINDARICS" (SEVENTEENTH CENTURY)
Dryden (complete stanza from "Anne Killigrew" ode):
VI
Bōrn tŏ | the spa|cious em|pire of | the Nine,
One would | have thought | she should | have been | content
To man|age well | that migh|ty gov|ernment;
But what | can young | ambi|tious souls | confine?
To the | next realm | she stretched | her sway,
For Pain|ture near | adjoin|ing lay,
A plen|teous prov|ince, and | allur|ing prey.
A cham|ber of | depen|dencies | was framed,
(As con|querors | will nev|er want | pretence,
When armed, | to just|ify | the offence,)
And the | whole fief, | in right | of po|etry, | she claimed.
The coun|try op|en lay | without | defence;
For po|ets fre|quent in|roads there | had made,
And per|fectly | could rep|resent
The shape, | the face, | with ev|ery lin|eament,
And all | the large | domains | which the | Dumb Sis|ter swayed;
All bowed | beneath | her gov|ernment,
Received | in tri|umph where|soe'er | she went.
Her pen|cil drew | whate'er | her soul | designed,
And oft | the hap|py draught | surpassed | the im|age in | her mind.
The syl|van scenes | of herds | and flocks,
And fruit|ful plains | and bar|ren rocks,
Of shal|low brooks | that flowed | so clear,
The bot|tom did | the top | appear;
Of deep|er too | and am|pler floods,
Which, as | in mir|rors, showed | the woods;
Of lof|ty trees, | with sa|cred shades,
And pèr|spectives of plea|sant glades,
Where nymphs | of bright|est form | appear,
And shag|gy sat|yrs stand|ing near,
Which them | at once | admire | and fear.
The ru|ins, too, | of some | majes|tic piece,
Boasting | the power | of an|cient Rome | or Greece,
Whose sta|tues, frie|zes, col|umns, bro|ken lie,
And, though | defaced, | the won|der of | the eye;
What na|ture, art, | bold fic|tion, e'er | durst frame,
Her form|ing hand | gave fea|ture to | the name.
So strange | a con|course ne'er | was seen | before,
But when | the peo|pled ark | the whole | crea|tion bore.
(88-91, heroics; 92, 93, octosyllables; 94-96, heroics; 97,
octosyllable; 98, Alexandrine; 99, 100, heroic; 101, octosyllable; 102,
heroic; 103, Alexandrine; 104, octosyllable; 105, 106, heroics; 107,
fourteener; 108-118, continuous octosyllables; 119-125, continuous
heroics capped and finished off by 126, Alexandrine. In 97, probably
"th' offence.")
XXXI. THE HEROIC COUPLET FROM DRYDEN TO CRABBE
(_a_) Dryden (early non-dramatic):
Our setting sun, from his declining seat,
Shot beams of kindness on _you_, not of heat;
And, when his love was bounded in a few
That were unhappy, that they might be true,
Made _you_ the favourite of his last sad times,
That is, a sufferer in his subjects' crimes.
Thus, those first favours _you_ received, were sent,
Like heaven's rewards, in earthly punishment:
Yet fortune, conscious of _your_ destiny,
E'en then took care to lay _you_ softly by,
And wrapped _your_ fate among her precious things,
Kept fresh to be unfolded with _your_ king's.
(Note recurrent _you_ and _your_ employed like pauses to vary verse.
Otherwise strictly "regular.")
(_b_) Dryden ("heroic"-dramatic type at best):
Fair though you are
As summer mornings, | and your eyes more bright
Than stars that twinkle ¦ in a winter's night;
Though you have eloquence to warm and move
Cold age ¦ and praying hermits ¦ into love;
Though Almahide with scorn ¦ rewards my care,--
Yet, | than to change, | 'tis nobler to despair.
My love's my soul; | and that from fate is free;
'Tis that unchanged and deathless part of me.
(_Conquest of Granada_ II., III. iii.)
(Observe how the alternation of central pause, strongly (|) and weakly
(¦) or hardly at all (no mark) emphasised, knits and shades the verse;
and how, in the first line, there is positive enjambment. Yet there is
still no trisyllabic substitution. This type is continued and perfected
in the great satires and didactic pieces for argument and attack, and
in the _Fables_ for narrative. It admits, to relieve monotony, the
Alexandrine (_Hind and Panther_, i. 23, 24))--
Their corps[e] to perish, but their kind to last,
So much | the death|less plant | the dy|ing fruit | surpassed;
the triplet (_ibid._ a little further)--
Can I believe eternal God could lie
Disguised in mortal mould and infancy,
That the great Maker of the world could die?
both combined (_Palamon and Arcite_, ii. 560-562)--
There saw I how the secret felon wrought,
And treason labouring in the traitor's thought,
And mid|wife time | the ri|pened plot | to mur|der brought;
and sometimes the fourteener (_Medal_, 94)--
Thou leapst o'er all eternal truths in thy Pindaric way.
(_c_) Passages from Garth, (1), and Pope, (2) and (3), to illustrate
the mechanical character of the eighteenth-century couplet, the ease
with which it can be shifted from decasyllabic to octosyllabic, and its
peculiar construction of ridge-backed antithetic pause:
(1) With ~breathing~ fire his pitchy nostrils blow,
As from his sides he shakes the ~fleecy~ snow.
Around this ~hoary~ prince from wat'ry beds
His subject islands raise their ~verdant~ heads.
. . . . . . .
Eternal spring with ~smiling~ verdure here
Warms the mild air and crowns the ~youthful~ year.
. . . . . . .
The vine undressed her ~swelling~ clusters bears,
The labouring hind the ~mellow~ olive cheers.
(_The Dispensary._)
(Read, omitting the interlined epithets, and you get perfectly fluent
octosyllables.)
(2) First in these fields, I try the _sylvan_ strains,
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's _blissful_ plains.
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy _sacred_ spring,
While on thy banks _Sicilian_ Muses sing;
Let _vernal_ airs thro' _trembling_ osiers play
And Albion's cliffs resound the _rural_ lay.
(_Windsor Forest._)
Now this, in the same way, by the omission of some of the italicised
_gradus_ epithets, becomes--
First in these fields I try the strains,
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's plains.
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy spring,
While on thy banks [the] Muses sing;
Let vernal airs through osiers play
And Albion's cliffs resound the lay.
(3) Not with more glories in th' _ethereal_ plain
The sun first rises o'er the _purpled_ main,
Than issuing forth the rival of his beams
Launch'd on the bosom of the _silver_ Thames.
Fair nymphs and well-drest youths around her shone,
But ev'ry eye was fix'd on her alone.
On her _white_ breast a _sparkling_ cross she wore,
Which _Jews_ might kiss and _Infidels_ adore.
Her _lively_looks a _sprightly_ mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes and as unfixed as those.
_Favours_ to none to all she _smiles_ extends,
_Oft_ she rejects but never _once_ offends.
Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike,
And like the sun they shine on all alike.
Yet graceful ease and sweetness void of pride
Might hide her faults if Belles had faults to hide.
If to her share some female errors fall,
Look in her face and you'll forget them all.
(_The Rape of the Lock._)
Of course Pope,[44] in the close of the _Dunciad_ and elsewhere, has
passages of the utmost dignity; and the antithetic arrangement is
good for satire. But perhaps the finest passages of this class of
couplet--certainly the finest _with_ the _Dunciad_ close--are the
following, from
(_d_) Johnson (_Vanity of Human Wishes_--end):
Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find?
Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind?
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?
Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies?
. . . . . . .
Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires
And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
Pour forth thy favours for a healthful mind,
Obedient passions, and a will resigned;
For love which scarce collective man can fill;
For patience sovereign o'er transmuted ill;
For faith that, panting for a happier seat,
Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat.
These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain,
These goods He grants who grants the power to gain;
With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind,
And makes the happiness she does not find.
and
(_e_) Crabbe ("Delay brings Danger"--end):
Early he rose, and looked with many a sigh
On the red light that filled the eastern sky;
Oft had he stood before, alert and gay,
To hail the glories of the new-born day:
But now dejected, languid, listless, low,
He saw the wind upon the water blow,
And the cold stream curled onward as the gale
From the pine hill blew harshly down the dale;
On the right side the youth a wood surveyed,
With all its dark intensity of shade;
Where the rough wind alone was heard to move,
In this, the pause of nature and of love,
When now the young are reared, and when the old,
Lost to the tie, grow negligent and cold--
Far to the left he saw the huts of men,
Half hid in mist, that hung upon the fen;
Before him swallows gathering for the sea,
Took their short flights and twittered on the lea;
And near the bean-sheaf stood, the harvest done,
And slowly blackened in the sickly sun;
All these were sad in nature, or they took
Sadness from him, the likeness of his look
And of his mind--he pondered for a while,
Then met his Fanny with a borrowed smile.
(Observe, besides the other points mentioned, that trisyllabic feet
practically never occur in Garth, Pope, and Johnson--"wat'ry for
watery," and words like "ether(ea)l," "celest(ia)l," "happ(ie)r," being
_intended_ to take the benefit of elision, though, as a matter of fact,
they _give_ that of extension. Only Crabbe, in "gath_e_ring," may
perhaps not have meant "gath'ring.")
XXXII. EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY BLANK VERSE
(_a_) Thomson:
First the flaming red
Sprung vivid forth; the tawny orange next;
And next delicious yellow; by whose side
Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing green.
Then the pure blue that swells autumnal skies,
Etherial played, and then of sadder hue
Emerged the deepened indigo (as when
The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost),
While the last gleamings of refracted light
Died in the fainting violet away.
(This, from the poem on Newton, is Thomson at his very best in blank
verse, or nearly so. He was, however, too apt to emphasise his phrases
into full stops, producing what Johnson justly called "broken style,"
as thus:
On he walks
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond
The finely-chequered duck, before her train,
Rows garrulous. The stately sailing swan, etc.)
The trick was pushed to a pitch of absurdity by
(_b_) Glover:
Mindful of their charge,
The chiefs depart. Leonidas provides
His various armour. Agis close attends,
His best assistant. First a breastplate arms
The spacious chest;
and is somewhat noteworthy in Young and others. The reason probably was
a sort of nervous fear lest, in the absence of rhyme, the versification
should not be sufficiently marked. But at length the proper flow was
recovered by
(_c_) Cowper:
Tīme māde | thee what | thou wast, | kīng ŏf | the woods,
And time hath made thee what thou art--a cave
For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs
O'erhung the champaign; and the nu|mĕrŏus flōcks
That grazed it stood beneath that ample cope
Uncrowded, yet safe-sheltered from the storm.
No flock frequents thee now. Thou hast outlived
Thy popularity, and art become
(Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing
Forgotten, as the foliage of thy youth.
(_Yardley Oak._)
(The spondee "Tīme māde" and trochee "kīng ŏf" are certainly
intentional, whether consciously as such or not. The anapæst "-mĕrŏus
flōcks" may not have been _meant_, for Cowper had not cleared his mind
up about "elision," but is one in fact.)
XXXIII. THE REGULARISED PINDARIC ODE
Analysis of Gray's _Bard_ (the second and third divisions coincide to
the minutest degree):
I. i.
1. "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
2. Confusion on thy banners wait;
3. Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing
4. They mock the air with idle state.
5. Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
6. Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
7. To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
8. From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
9. --Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
10. Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
11. As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
12. He wound with toilsome march his long array:--
13. Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
14. "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance.
I. i. (_Strophe_)
1. Troch. dim. cat. ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄.
2. Iamb. dim. acat. ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄.
3. ditto
4. ditto
5 as 1.
6 and 7. Heroics nearly pure, ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄.
8 as 2 to 4.
9 to 13. Heroics
14. Alexandrine ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄. "Quiv'ring," probably.
I. ii.
1. On a rock, whose haughty brow
2. Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
3. Robed in the sable garb of woe
4. With haggard eyes the Poet stood
5. (Loose his beard and hoary hair
6. Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air),
7. And with a master's hand and prophet's fire
8. Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:
9. "Hark, how each giant-oak and desert-cave
10. Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
11. O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave,
12. Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
13. Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
14. To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
I. ii. (_Antistrophe_)
Identical.
I. iii.
1. "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
2. That hush'd the stormy main:
3. Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
4. Mountains, ye mourn in vain
5. Modred, whose magic song
6. Made hugh Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
7. On dreary Arvon's shore they lie
8. Smear'd with gore and ghastly pale:
9. Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;
10. The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.
11. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art,
12. Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
13. Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
14. Ye died amidst your dying country's cries--
15. No more I weep; They do not sleep;
16. On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,
17. I see them sit; They linger yet,
18. Avengers of their native land:
19. With me in dreadful harmony they join,
20. And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
I. iii. (_Epode_)
1. Iamb. dim. brachycat. ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄ ̆ ̄.
2. " ""
3. Heroic.
4, 5, as 1, 2, with trochee substituted in first place.
6 as 3.
7. Iamb. dim. acat.
8. Troch. dim. cat.
9 to 14. Heroics: the last 4 in quatrain.
15 to 18. Iamb. dims. arranged in stanza quatrain; internal rhymes
only in lines 15 and 17.
19. Heroic.
20. Alexandrine.
Rhyme scheme of Strophe Rhyme scheme of
and Antistrophe. Epode.
_a_ _a_
_b_ _b_
_a_ _c_
_b_ _b_
_c_ _a_
_c_ _c_
_d_ _d_
_d_ _e_
_e_ _e_
_f_ _d_
_e_ _f_
_f_ _g_
_g_ _f_
_g_ _g_
_o_[45]
_h_
_o_[45]
_h_
_i_
_i_
XXXIV. LIGHTER EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY LYRIC
(_a_) Gay:
The school|boy's desire | is a play-|day,
The school|master's joy | is to flog,
The milk|maid's delight | is on May-|day,
But mine | is on sweet | Molly Mog.
(Remarkable for the improvement, by the redundant syllable in the
odd lines, on the plain anapæstic three-foot quatrain used later by
Shenstone and Cowper, as well as for its leading up to the more obvious
successes of Praed and Mr. Swinburne; _v. inf._ § XLIV.)
(_b_) Gray:
'Twas on a lofty vase's side
Where China's gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow--
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
(Eleventh-century poets employed the old romance-six, or _rime couée_,
almost more largely than any other metre for general lyrical purposes.)
(_c_) (D. Lewis?):
And when with envy Time, transport|ed,
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be court|ed,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.
(Another instance of the refreshing and alterative effect of
redundance--in this case on the old "long measure." But even in its
stricter form the century managed "L.M." better than "C.M.," which,
till Blake, was almost always sing-song.)
XXXV. THE REVIVAL OF EQUIVALENCE (CHATTERTON AND BLAKE)
Percy's _Reliques_, however, taught it something better; though Percy's
own imitations and those of others were often as described above. Yet
soon we find in
(_a_) Chatterton, such adaptations of ballad metre as--
I ken | Syr Ro|ger from | afar
Trippynge | over | the lea,
Ich ask | whie | the lov|erd's son
Is moe | than mee?
and such equivalenced octosyllabic couplet and stanza as--
Sĭr Bō|tĕlĭer thēn | hăvĭng cōn|quĕr'd hīs twāyne,
Rŏ̄de cōn|qŭerŏr ōff | thĕ tōur|nĕyĭng plāyne,
Rĕcēiv|ĭng ă gār|lănd frŏm Āl|ĭcĕ's hānd,
Thĕ̄ fāir|ĕst lā|dy̆e īn | thĕ lānde.
But the real Columbus here was
(_b_) Blake, who from 1780 onwards wrote such things as--
Thĕ wīld | wĭ̄nds wēep
Ănd thĕ nīght | ĭs ă-cōld;
Cŏme hī|thĕr, Slēep,
Ănd my̆ grīefs | ŭnfōld.
Bŭt lō! | thĕ mōrn|ĭng pēeps
Ōvĕr | thĕ ēast|ĕ̄rn stēeps,
Ănd thĕ rūst|lĭng bēds | ŏf dāwn
Thĕ ēarth | dŏ scōrn.
Lō! | tŏ thĕ vāult
Ŏf pā|vè̆d hēaven,
Wĭth sōr|rŏw frāught,
My̆ nōtes | ă̄re drīven.
Thĕy strīke | thĕ ēar | ŏf nīght,
Māke wēep | thĕ ēyes | ŏf dāy;
Thĕy măke mad | thĕ rōar|ing winds,
Ănd wĭth tēm|pĕsts plāy.
Lĭke ă fīend) | in ă clōud,
Wĭth hōwl|ĭng wōe
Ăftĕr nīght | Ĭ dŏ crōwd
Ănd wĭth nīght | wĭll gō;
Ĭ tūrn | my̆ bāck | tŏ thĕ Ēast,
Frŏm whĕnce cōm|fŏrts hāve | ĭncrēased,
Fŏr līght | dŏth sēize | my̆ brāin
Wĭth frān|tĭc pāin.
(This cannot be studied too carefully, and is almost a typical example
of sound prosody, orderly without monotony and free without licence.
Every substitution is justified, both on the general principles
expounded throughout this book, and to the ear in each individual case.)
XXXVI. RHYMELESS ATTEMPTS (COLLINS TO SHELLEY)
(_a_) Collins (_Ode to Evening_):
If aught | of oat|en stop | or pas|toral song
May hope, | O pen|sive Eve, | to soothe | thine ear
Like thy | own sol|emn springs,
Thy springs | and dy|ing gales.
(Perfectly regular heroics and sixes; "pastoral" most probably intended
to be "past'ral.")
(_b_) Sayers (Choruses of _Moina_):
I.
Hail to | her whom | Frea | loves,
Moina | hail!
When first | thine in|fant eyes | beheld
The beam | of day,
Frea | from Val|halla's | groves
Mark'd thy | birth in | silent | joy;
Frea, | sweetly | smiling saw
The swift-|wing'd mes|senger | of love
Bearing | in her | rosy | hand
The gold-|tipt horn | of gods.
(This--which is fairly but not wholly free from the fault noted in
II.--is ordinary iambic and trochaic mixture.)
II.
Dark, dark | is Moi|na's bed,
On earth's | hard lap | she lies.
[Where is | the beau|teous form
That he|roes loved?]
[Where is | the beam|ing eye,
The rud|dy cheek?]
Cold, cold | is Moi|na's bed,
And shall | no lay | of death
[With pleas|ing mur|mur soothe
Her part|ed soul?]
[Shall no | tear wet | the grave
Where Moi|na lies?]
The bards | shall raise | the lay | of death,
The bards | shall soothe | her part|ed soul,
[And drop | the tear | of grief
On Moi|na's grave.]
(It will be observed that each of the couplets enclosed in square
brackets is simply a blank-verse line, arbitrarily split. This is
probably the result of the effort at rhymeless _stanza_. Observe the
unbroken iambic rhythm--another danger.)
(_c_) Southey (_Thalaba_):
How beau|tiful | is Night!
A dew|y fresh|ness fills | the si|lent air;
No mist | obscures, | nor cloud | nor speck | nor stain
Brēaks thĕ | serene | of heaven:
In full-|orbed glo|ry yon|der moon | divine
Rōlls thrōugh | the dark | blue depths.
Beneath | her stead|y ray
The des|ert-cir|cle spreads,
Līke thĕ | rōund ō|cean, gir|dled with | the sky.
How beau|tiful | is Night!
(Iambic lines of various lengths with trochaic and spondaic but no
other substitution (there are anapæsts elsewhere). The couplet-six, or
split Alexandrine, is intentional, but Southey expressly avoids split
heroics.)
(_d_) Shelley (_Queen Mab_):
How wonderful is Death,
Death and his brother Sleep!
One, pale as yonder waning moon
With lips of lurid blue;
The other, rosy as the morn
When throned on ocean's wave
It blushes o'er the world:
Yet both so passing wonderful!
XXXVII. THE REVIVED BALLAD (PERCY TO COLERIDGE)
(_a_) Percy's imitation of equivalence and extension of scheme (_Sir
Cawline_):
Then she | held forth | her lil|y-white hand
Towards | that knight | so free;
He gave | to it | one gen|til kiss,
His heart | was brought | from bale | to bliss,
The tears | sterte from | his ee.
(Not bad; might have been improved by "_And_ the tears|.")
(_b_) Goldsmith (regularised sing-song):
Turn An|geli|na, ev|er dear,
My charm|er, turn | to see
Thy own, | thy long-|lost Ed|win here
Restored | to love | and thee!
(_c_) Southey (quite sound in principle, and not bad in effect; but a
little more poetic powder wanted):
They laid | her where | these four | roads meet
Here in | this ver|y place--
The earth | upon | her corpse | was pressed,
This post | was driv|en into | her breast,
And a stone | is on | her face.
(_d_) Coleridge (the real thing in simpler and more complex form):
It is | an an|cient ma|riner,
And he stop|peth one | of three--
"By thy long | grey beard | and glit|tering eye,
Now where|fore stop'st | thou me?"
. . . . . . .
Her lips | were red, | her looks | were free,
Her locks | were yel|low as gold;
Her skin | was as white | as lep|rosy--
The night|mare Life-|in-Death | was she,
Who thicks | man's blood | with cold.
. . . . . . .
We list|ened and | looked side|ways up!
Fear at | my heart, | as at | a cup,
My life-|blood seemed | to sip!
The stars | were dim | and thick | the night,
The steers|man's face | by his lamp | gleamed white;
From the sails | the dew | did drip--
Till clomb | above | the east|ern bar
The horn|èd moon, | with one | bright star
Within | the neth|er tip.
(The presence and absence of anapæstic substitution here, with its
effect in each case, should be carefully studied.)
XXXVIII
Specimens of _Christabel_, with note on the application of the system
to later lyric. (Some have said that in _Christabel_ "the consideration
of feet is dropped altogether," and others, that it "cannot be
analysed," or can only be so by the rough process of counting accents.
Let us go and do it.)
'Tĭs thĕ mīd|dlĕ ŏf nīght | by̆ thĕ cās|tlĕ clōck,
Ănd thĕ ōwls | hăve ăwā|kĕned thĕ crōw|ing cōck,
Tŭ̄--whīt--tŭ̄ whŏ̄o!
Ănd hārk, | ăgāin! | thĕ crōw|īng cō=ck,
Hŏ̄w drōw|sĭlȳ | ĭt crēw.|
(A five-lined ballad stanza, freely but regularly equivalenced
with anapæsts. Line 3 may be four monosyllabic feet, or an iambic
monometer--two feet,--according to the value put on the first
note of the owl's cry.) The rest of the piece is _not_ in ballad
stanza, but in octosyllabic couplet, again more or less freely but
regularly equivalenced, and allowing itself occasional licences of
rhyme-order, line-length, etc. Thus the succeeding lines are in
two batches, where the substitution--anapæstic, trochaic, spondaic
or monosyllabic--increases, dwindles, disappears and reappears _ad
libitum_:
Sĭr Lē|ŏlīne, | thĕ Bā|rŏn rīch,
Hāth | ă tōoth|lĕss mās|tĭff, whīch
Frōm | hĕr kēn|nĕl bĕnēath | thĕ rōck
Mā|kĕth ān|swĕr tō | thĕ clōck,
Fōur | fŏr thĕ quār|tĕrs ănd twēlve | fŏr thĕ hōur;
Ēv|ĕr ănd āye, | by̆ shīne | ănd shōwer,
Sī̆xtēen | shō̆rt hōwls | nŏt ō|vĕr lōud;
Sō̆me sāy, | shĕ sēes | my̆ lā|dy̆'s shrōud.
Īs | thĕ nīght | chīlly̆ | ănd dārk?
Thĕ nīght | ĭs chīl|ly̆, būt | nŏt dārk.
Thĕ thīn | grāy clōud | ĭs sprēad | ŏn hīgh,
Ĭt cōv|ĕrs būt | nŏt hīdes | thĕ skȳ.
Thĕ mōon | ĭs bĕhīnd, | ā̆nd ă̄t | thĕ fūll;
Ănd yēt | shĕ lōoks | bŏ̄th smāll | ănd dūll.
Thĕ nīght | ĭs chīll, | thĕ clōud | ĭs grāy:
'Tĭs ă mōnth | bĕfōre | thĕ mōnth | ŏf Māy,
Ănd thĕ sprīng | cŏ̄mes slōw|ly̆ ūp | thĭs wāy.
The whole of the rest follows suit, with occasional variations (_not_,
save in one case perhaps, "irregularities"), as, for instance--
Ă̄nd || in ¦ si|lence ¦ pray|eth ¦ she.
. . . . . . .
From || the ¦ love|ly ¦ la|dy's ¦ cheek,
where a triple scansion might appear possible: (1) monosyllabic
beginnings indicated by ||; (2) three-foot lines with anapæstic opening
(|); and (3) the trochaic variation common in seventeenth-century poets
(¦). A famous third line--
Bēau|tĭfŭ̄l | ĕ̄xcēed|ĭnglȳ,|
decides in favour of (1), for (2) and (3) would exceedingly spoil its
beauty. There is sometimes almost _complete_ anapæstic substitution--
Săve thĕ bōss | ŏf thĕ shīeld | ŏf Sĭr Lē|ŏlĭne tāll,
Whĭch hūng | ĭn ă mūr|ky̆ ŏld nīche | ĭn thĕ wāll;
which is still further developed in the spell of Geraldine--
Ĭn thĕ tōuch | ŏf thĭs bō|sŏm thĕre wōrk|ĕth ă spēll.
(This, in couplet, is a little dangerous.)
_Note on the Application of the "Christabel" System to
Nineteenth-Century Lyric generally._
It is most remarkable, but suggestive to a further extent of the fact
that Coleridge did not entirely comprehend what he was doing, that
_Christabel_, especially its opening stanza, supplies a complete key to
the later nineteenth-century lyrical scansion which (_v. sup._ p. 27)
he and others failed to understand in Tennyson. That opening stanza,
placed side by side with the "Hollyhock Song" (see above again), will
completely interpret it to any one who has eye and ear enough to
mutate the _mutanda_. And when the connection and the interpretation
have once been seized, there is nothing, from Shelley's apparently
impulsive and instinctive harmonies to the most complicated experiments
of Browning and Swinburne, which will not yield to the master keys
of equivalent substitution and varying of line-length, subject to
the general law of rhythmical uniformity, or at least symphonised
change. It has been said, for instance, by the latest and most painful
French student of English prosody, M. Verrier, that in Shelley's
_Cloud_ "traditional metric renounces the attempt" to divide it into
feet. Here is the division, made without its being necessary to think
twice--hardly to think once--about a single article of it:
I bring | fresh showers | for the thirst|ing flowers,
From the seas | and the streams;
I bear | light shade | for the leaves | when laid
In their noon|day dreams.
From my wings | are shaken | the dews | that waken
The sweet | buds ev|ery one,
When rocked | to rest | on their mo|ther's breast,
As she dan|ces about | the sun.
I wield | the flail | of the lash|ing hail,
And whi|ten the green | plains un|der,
And then | again | I dissolve | it in rain,
And laugh | as I pass | in thun|der.
(Base anapæstic, and normal length dimeter; but shortened to three and
two feet, thus--424243434343. The two last three-foot lines catalectic
dimeter, or, to put the same thing in another way, the first threes
plain, the last redundanced. Substitution of iamb or spondee for
anapæst perfectly regular, and (to keep the anapæstic base specially
marked against the iambic) not very much indulged in. "Showers" and
"flowers" as well as probably "shaken" and "waken" used in their
shortened or practically monosyllabic value. Nothing in the least
incalculable, eccentric, or even difficult, on the foot system.)
XXXIX. NINETEENTH-CENTURY COUPLET (LEIGH HUNT TO MR. SWINBURNE)
(The examples given will be found to be all more or less of the
enjambed variety. Not only has the other been much less practised,
owing to reaction from the over-fondness of the eighteenth century
for it, but that century, including the period of throwing back to
Dryden,[46] practically found out all its considerable but limited
possibilities.)
(_a_) Leigh Hunt (_Story of Rimini_):
Āll thĕ | sweet range-wood, flowerbed, grassy plot
Francesca loved, but most of all this spot.
Whenever she walk'd forth, wherever went
About the grounds, to this at last she bent:
Here she had brought a lute | ānd ă | few books.
Here would she lie for hours, | ōftĕn | with looks
More sorrowful by far, yet sweeter too;
Sometimes with firmer comfort, where she drew
From sense of in|jŭry̆'s sēlf | and truth sustained,
Sometimes with rarest indignation gained,
From meek, self-pitying mixtures of extremes,
Of hope, and soft despair, and child|lī̆ke drēams,
And all that promising calm smile we see
In Nature's face when we look patiently.
(Various substitutions marked, as also in the following.)
(_b_) Keats (_Endymion_):
At this, from every side they hurried in,
Rubbing their sleepy eyes with lazy wrists,
And doubling over head their little fists
In backward yawns. But all were soon alive:
For as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive
In nectar'd clouds and curls through water fair,
So from the arbour roof down swell'd an air
Ō̆dō̆r|ous and | enli|vening; mak|ing all
To laugh, and play, and sing, and loudly call
For their sweet queen: when lo! the wreathed green
Disparted, and far upward could be seen
Blue heaven, and a silver car, air-borne,
Whose silent wheels, fresh wet from clouds of morn,
Spun off a drizzling dew,--which falling chill
On soft Adonis' shoulders, made him still
Nestle and turn uneasily about.
(As in the seventeenth-century patterns, not much equivalence:--the
paragraph effect, produced by enjambment and varied pause, being
chiefly relied on to prevent monotony. Later, in _Lamia_, Keats tried,
after study of Dryden, a less fluent pattern, with stop as well as
enjambment, Alexandrine, and triplet.)
(_c_) Browning (_Sordello_):
As, shall I say, some Ethiop, past pursuit
Of all enslavers, dips a shackled foot,
Burnt to the blood, into the drowsy black
Enormous watercourse which guides him back
To his own tribe again, where he is king;
And laughs because he guesses, numbering
The yellower poison-wattles on the pouch
Of the first lizard wrested from its couch
Under the slime (whose skin, the while, he strips
To cure his nostril with, and festered lips,
And eyeballs bloodshot through the desert-blast),
That he has reached its boundary, at last
May breathe;--thinks o'er enchantments of the South
Sovereign to plague his enemies, their mouth,
Eyes, nails, and hair; but, these enchantments tried
In fancy, puts them soberly aside
For truth, projects a cool return with friends,
The likelihood of winning more amends
Ere long; thinks that, takes comfort silently,
Then, from the river's brink, his wrongs and he,
Hugging revenge close to their hearts, are soon
Off-striding for the Mountains of the Moon.
(Practically a long blank-verse paragraph with the addition of rhyme,
which sometimes almost escapes notice.)
(_d_) M. Arnold (_Tristram and Iseult_):
The young surviving Iseult, one bright day,
Had wander'd forth. Her children were at play
In a green cir|cular hol|low in the heath
Which borders the sea-shore--a country path
Creeps over it from the till'd fields behind.
The hollow's grassy banks are soft-inclined,
And to one standing on them, far and near
The lone unbroken view spreads bright and clear
Over the waste. This cirque of open ground
Is light and green; the heather, which āll rōund
Creeps thickly, grows not here; but the pale grass
Is strewn with rocks, and many a shiver'd mass
Of vein'd white-gleaming quartz, and here and there
Dōttĕd with holly-trees and juniper.
(An admirable following of Keats's model; the rhymes not too much
kept out of view, and suggestions of trochaic and spondaic as well as
trisyllabic substitution deftly used. For some strange reason he never
returned to it, but left it for William Morris to develop, completely
and most effectively, in _Jason_ and _The Earthly Paradise_.)
(_e_) Tennyson very seldom tried the couplet, but when he did, as in
"The Vision of Sin," he achieved it magnificently:
I had a vision when the night was late:
A youth came riding toward a palace gate.
He rode a horse with wings, that would have flown
But that his heavy rider kept him down.
And from the palace came a child of sin,
And took him by the curls and led him in,
Where sat a company with heated eyes,
Expecting when a fountain should arise:
A sleepy light upon their brows and lips--
As when the sun, a crescent of eclipse,
Dreams over lake and lawn, and isles and capes--
Suffused them, sitting, lying, languid shapes,
By heaps of gourds, and skins of wine, and piles of grapes.
(Observe how fine this couplet is, and how _personal_. We have seen how
Keats studied Dryden: this is as if Dryden had studied Keats.)
(_f_) Mr. Swinburne (_Tristram of Lyonesse_):
Love, that is first and last of all things made,
The light that has the living world for shade,
The spirit that for tem|poral veil | has on
The souls of all men, wo|ven in un|ison,
One fi|ery rai|ment with all lives inwrought
And lights of sun|ny and star|ry deed and thought.
(In this splendid metre the characteristics of stopped and enjambed
couplet are to a great extent combined. Considerable anapæstic
substitution to gain speed.)
XL. NINETEENTH-CENTURY BLANK VERSE (WORDSWORTH TO MR. SWINBURNE)
(_a_) Wordsworth ("Yew Trees"):
Beneath whose sable roof
Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked
With unrejoicing berries--ghostly shapes
May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope,
Sīlĕnce | and Foresight, Death the Skeleton
And Time the Shadow;--there to celebrate,
As in a na|tural tem|ple scattered o'er
With altars undisturbed of mossy stone,
United worship; or in mute repose
To lie, and listen to the mountain flood
Murmuring | from Glaramara's inmost caves.
(The student should notice the difference, slight but distinctly
perceptible, from the Miltonic model.)
(_b_) Shelley (_Alastor_):
Soft mossy lawns
Beneath these canopies extend their swells,
Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms
Minute yet beautiful. One darkest glen
Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jas|mine,
A soul-dissolving odour, to invite
To some more lovely mys|tery. Through | the dell,
Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, keep
Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades,
Like va|porous shapes | half seen; beyond, a well,
Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave,
Images all the woven boughs above,
And each depending leaf, and every speck
Of azure sky, darting between their chasms,
(There are actually seven lines more before the paragraph comes at once
to a line-end and a full stop in punctuation. Note also the Thomsonian
mid-stops; the Wordsworthian atmosphere (cf. citation above); the
actual or suggested trisyllables; the actual redundance in "jas|mine,"
and the suggested one in "chas|m.")
(_c_) Browning--early (_Pauline_):
Sun-treader!--life and light be thine for ever!
Thou art gone from us; years go by, and spring
Gladdens, and the young earth is beautiful,
Yet thy songs come not, other bards arise,
But none like thee: they stand, thy majesties,
Like mighty works which tell some spirit there
Hath sat regardless of neglect and scorn,
Till, its long task completed, it hath risen
And left us, never to return, and all
Rush in to peer and praise when all in vain.
The air seems bright with thy past presence yet,
But thou art still for me as thou hast been
When I have stood with thee as on a throne
With all thy dim creations gathered round
Like mountains, and I felt of mould like them,
And with them creatures of my own were mixed,
Like things half-lived, catching and giving life.
(Wordsworthian-Shelleyan, but with a greater touch of dramatic
soliloquy in it. Redundance, but no trisyllabics.)
(_d_) Browning--later (_Mr. Sludge_, "_The Medium_"):
O|ver the way
Holds Captain Sparks his court:| is it bet|ter there?
Have you not hunting-stories, scalping-scenes,
And Mex|ican War | exploits to swallow plump
If you'd be free | o' the stove-|side, rocking-chair,
And tri|o of af|fable daugh|ters? Doubt succumbs!
. . . . . . .
Yet screwed him into henceforth gulling you
To the top | o' your bent,|--all out of one half-lie!
(This unhesitating trisyllabic substitution sometimes reaches the very
dangerous adjustment of trochee-anapæst, as in--
Gūilty̆ | fŏr thĕ whīm's | sā̆ke! Gūil|ty̆ hĕ sōme|how thinks.
_The Ring and the Book._)
(_e_) Tennyson--early (_Lover's Tale_):
Glēams ŏf the water-circles as they broke,
Flīckĕred | like doubtful smiles about her lips,
Qūivĕred | a flying glory in her hair,
Lēapt lĭke a passing thought across her eyes.
And mine, with one that will not pass till earth
And heaven pass too, dwell on _my_ heaven--a face
Most starry fair, but kindled from within
As 'twere with dawn.
(Substitution trochaic only, except for "heaven"--always ambiguous in
value.)
(_f_) Tennyson--standard middle (_Ulysses_):
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
(Verse-paragraph completely achieved by variation of pause and
different weighting of line, with, again, little or no trisyllabic
substitution.)
Tennyson--later (_The Holy Grail_):
"There rose a hill that none but man could climb,
Scarr'd with a hundred wintry wa|tercourses--
Storm at the top, and when we gain'd it, storm
Round us and death; for ev|ery mo|ment glanced
His silver arms and gloom'd: so quick and thick
The lightnings here and there to left and right
Struck, till the dry old trunks about us, dead,
Yea, rotten with a hundred years of death,
Sprang into fi|re: and at | the base we found
On either hand, as far as eye could see,
A great black swamp and of an evil smell,
Part black, part whiten'd with the bones of men,
Not to be crost, save that some ancient king
Had built a way, where, link'd with many a bridge,
A thousand piers ran into the great Sea.
And Ga|lahad fled | along them bridge by bridge,
And ev|ery bridge | as quickly as he crost
Sprang into fire and vanish'd, tho' I yearn'd
To fol|low; and thrice | above him all the heavens
Open'd and blazed with thunder such as seem'd
Shoutings of all the sons of God: and first
At once I saw him far on the great Sea,
In silver-shining armour starry-clear;
And o'er his head the Holy Vessel hung
Clothed in white samite or a lu|minous cloud.
And with exceeding swiftness ran the boat,
If boat it were--I saw not whence it came.
And when the heavens o|pen'd and blazed | again
Roaring, I saw him like a silver star--
And had he set the sail, or had the boat
Become a living creature clad with wings?
And o'er his head the Holy Vessel hung
Redder than any rose, a joy to me,
For now I knew the veil had been withdrawn.
Then in a moment when they blazed again
Opening, I saw the least of little stars
Down on the waste, and straight beyond the star
I saw | the spiri|tual cit|y and all | her spires
And gateways in a glory like one pearl--
No larger, tho' the goal of all the saints--
Strike from the sea; and from the star there shot
A rose-red sparkle to the cit|y, and there
Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy Grail,
Which never eyes on earth again shall see."
(Paragraph still more ambitious and elaborate, with much trisyllabic
substitution and some redundance.)
XLI. THE NON-EQUIVALENCED OCTOSYLLABLE OF KEATS AND MORRIS
(_a_) Keats (_Eve of St. Mark_):
Upon a Sabbath day it fell;
Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell,
That called the folk to evening-prayer;
The city streets were clean and fair
From wholesome drench of April rains;
And on the western window-panes
The chilly sunset faintly told
Of unmatured green valleys cold,
Of the green thorny bloomless hedge,
Of rivers new with spring-tide sedge,
Of primroses by sheltered rills,
And daisies on the aguish hills.
Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell:
The silent streets were crowded well
With staid and pious companies,
Warm from their fire-side orat'ries,
And moving, with demurest air,
To even-song and vesper prayer.
Each archèd porch, and entry low,
Was filled with patient folk and slow,
With whispers hush, and shuffling feet,
While played the organ loud and sweet.
(_b_) Morris (_The Ring given to Venus_):
By then his eyes were opened wide.
Already up the grey hillside
The backs of two were turned to him:
One, like a young man tall and slim,
Whose heels with rosy wings were dight;
One like a woman clad in white,
With glittering wings of many a hue,
Still changing, and whose shape none knew.
In aftertime would Laurence say
That though the moonshine, cold and grey,
Flooded the lonely earth that night,
These creatures in the moon's despite
Were coloured clear, as though the sun
Shone through the earth to light each one--
And terrible was that to see.
(Here the effect is entirely achieved by dividing the couplets, with
full stops or strong pauses at the end of the first line, and running
the sense of the second into the first of the next; by considerable
variations of internal pause, and by placing emphatic or brightly
coloured words at different spots. Equivalence is practically limited
to such things as "glittering," "aguish," "many a," etc., where it is
at minimum strength.)
XLII. THE CONTINUOUS ALEXANDRINE (DRAYTON AND BROWNING)
(_a_) Drayton (_Polyolbion_):
Whenas the pliant Muse, with fair and even flight,
Betwixt her silver wings is wafted to the Wight,--
That Isle, which jutting out into the sea so far,
Her offspring traineth up in exercise of war;
Those pirates to put back, that oft purloin her trade,
Or Spaniards or the French attempting to invade.
Of all the southern isles she holds the highest place,
And evermore hath been the great'st in Britain's grace.
Not one of all her nymphs her sovereign fav'reth thus,
Embracèd in the arms of old Oceanus.
For none of her account so near her bosom stand,
'Twixt Penwith's furthest point and Goodwin's queachy sand.
(_b_) Browning (_Fifine at the Fair_):
O trip and skip, Elvire! Link arm in arm with me!
Like husband and like wife, together let us see
The tumbling troop arrayed, the strollers on their stage,
Drawn up and under arms, and ready to engage.
(Printing of lines disjoined to show the _extra_ stress which Browning
lays on the middle pause, and which, though not universal, is general
throughout the poem. The case is rather the other way with Drayton.
He _observes_ the pause, which is indeed the law of the line; but he
does not seem to avail himself of it much as a prosodic or rhetorical
instrument.)
XLIII
_The Dying Swan_ of Tennyson, scanned entirely through to show the
application of the system. (It brings out a scheme of _dimeters_ wholly
iambic at the lowest rate of substitution, wholly anapæstic at the
highest, mixed between. A few instances occur of the other usual and
regular licences--trochaic and spondaic substitution, monosyllabic feet
(_or_ catalexis) and one or two of brachycatalexis, three feet instead
of four. And it is to be specially noted that the poet uses these, not
at random, but so as to swell and raise his rhythm, proportionately
and progressively, from the slow motion and scanty syllabising of the
opening scene-stanza to the "flood of eddying song" at the close. This
process is entirely unaccounted for on the bare "four-stress" system.)
I.
Thĕ plāin | wă̄s grāss|y̆, wīld | ănd bāre,
Wīde, wīld, | ănd ō|pĕn tō | thĕ āir.
Whīch | hăd būilt | ŭp ēv|ĕry̆whēre
Ăn ūn|d̆er-rōof | ŏf dōle|fŭl grāy.
Wĭth ăn īn|nĕr vōice | thĕ rīv|ĕr rān,
Ădōwn | ĭt flōat|ĕd ă dȳ|ĭng swān, |
Ănd lōud|ly̆ dīd | lămēnt.
Ĭ̄t wă̄s | thĕ mīd|dlĕ ōf | thĕ dāy.
Ēvĕr | thĕ wēa|ry̆ wīnd wĕnt ōn,
Ăn]d tōok | thĕ rēed-|tōps ā̆s |ĭt wēnt.
II.
Sŏ̄me ¦ blŭ̄e | pēaks ¦ ĭ̄n | thĕ dīs|tănce rōse,
Ănd whīte | ăgāinst | thĕ cōld-|whīte skȳ,
Shŏne ōut | thĕir crōwn|ĭng snōws.
Ŏne wīl|lŏw ō|vĕr thĕ rīv|ĕr wēpt,
Ănd shōok |thĕ wāve | ăs thĕ wīnd | dĭd sīgh;
Ăbōve | ĭn thĕ wīnd | wăs thĕ swāl|low,
Chās¦ĭng | ĭtsēlf | ăt ĭts ōwn | wīld wīll,
Ănd fār | thrŏ' thĕ mār|ĭsh grēen | ănd stīll |
Thĕ tān|glĕd wā|tĕr-cōur|sĕs slēpt,
Shŏt ō|vĕr wĭth pūr|plĕ ănd grēen, | ănd yēl|low.
III.
Thĕ wīld | swă̄n's dēath-|hy̆mn tōok | thĕ sōul
Ŏf thāt | wāste plāce | wĭth jōy
Hīddĕn | ĭn sōr|rŏw: ăt fīrst | tŏ thĕ ēar
Thĕ wār|blĕ wăs lōw, | ănd fūll | ănd clēar;
Ănd flōat|ĭng ăbōut | thĕ ūn|dĕr-skȳ,
Prĕvāil|ĭng ĭn wēak|nĕss, thĕ cōr|ŏnăch stōle
Sōme|tĭmes ăfār, | ănd sōme|tĭmes ănēar;
Bŭt ănōn | hĕr āw|fŭl jū|bĭlănt vōice,
Wĭth ă mū|sĭc strānge | ănd mān|ĭfōld,
Flōw'd fōrth | ŏn ă cār|ŏl frēe | ănd bōld;
Ăs whēn | ă mīht|y̆ pēo|plĕ rĕjōice
Wĭth shāwms, | ănd wĭth cȳm|băls, ănd hārps | ŏf gōld,
Ănd thĕ tū|mŭlt ŏf thēir | ăcclāim | ĭs rōll'd
Thrŏ' thĕ ō|pĕn gātes | ŏf thĕ cī|ty̆ ăfār,
Tŏ thĕ shēp|hĕrd whŏ wātch|ĕth thĕ ē|vĕnīng stār.
Ănd thĕ crēep]|ĭng mōss|ĕs ănd clām|bĕrĭng wēeds,
Ānd thĕ wīl|lŏw-brān|chĕs hōar | ănd dānk,
Ănd thĕ wā|vy̆ swēll | ŏf thĕ sōugh|ĭng rēeds,
Ănd thĕ wāve-|wōrn hōrns | ŏf thĕ ēch|ŏĭng bānk,
Ănd thĕ sīl|vĕry̆ mār|ĭsh-flōwers | thăt thrōng
Thĕ dē|sŏlăte crēeks | ănd pōols | ămōng,
Wĕre flōod|ĕd ō|vĕr wĭth ēd|dy̆ĭng sōng.
This piece, with the "Hollyhock" (_v. sup._ p. 27), Blake's "Mad Song"
(§ XXXV.), Shelley's "Cloud" (note, p. 100), and the _Christabel_
selections (§ XXXVIII.), will almost completely exemplify substitution
in lyric. But the germ is far older--in Shakespeare, in "E.I.O.," and
even in pieces earlier still.
XLIV. THE STAGES OF THE METRE OF "DOLORES" AND THE DEDICATION OF "POEMS
AND BALLADS"
This remarkable measure illustrates, with especial appositeness, the
natural history of metrical evolution, and so may be dealt with more
fully as a specimen. There can be little doubt that its original, or
the earliest form to which it can be traced, is the split Alexandrine
or three-foot iambic, which appears in the French of Philippe de Thaun,
and in several English poems, such as the _Bestiary_, translated from
Philippe's--
After | him he | filleth,
Drageth | dust with | his stert,
and as even _King Horn_. But this gives far too little room in
English; and the rhymes, when rhyme is introduced, come too quick.
Substitution of trisyllabic feet remedies both faults; while the actual
six, with _interchanged_ rhyme, gives beautiful work, though the lines
are still rather short:
With lon|gyng y | am lad,
On mol|de I wax|e mad,
a maid|e mar|reth me;
Y grede, | y grone, | un-glad,
For sel|den y | am sad
that sem|ly for | te se;
Levedi, | thou rew|e me,
To rou|the thou havest | me rad;
Be bote | of that | y bad,
My lyf | is long | on the.
(Wright's _Specimens of Lyric Poetry_, No. vii.)
This shortness kept it back, more especially when the fear of _mainly_
trisyllabic measures came in after the fifteenth-century anarchy. But
as soon as that fear disappeared, and the anapæst forced itself into
general use, logic, assisted by tune, suggested a cutting down of the
popular dimeter or four-foot anapæstic line to three. This, for a long
time, maintained itself in strict literature without much variety
of structure, as, at different times, is shown by Shenstone in the
well-known--
Since Phyl|lis vouchsafed | me a look,
I nev|er once dreamt | of my vine;
May I lose | both my pipe | and my crook,
If I know | of a kid | that is mine;
and by Cowper in the still better known "Alexander Selkirk" lines--
I am mon|arch of all | I survey,
My right | there is none | to dispute:
From the cen|tre all round | to the sea
I am lord | of the fowl | and the brute;
and in "Catherina"--
She came-- | she is gone-- | we have met,
And meet | perhaps nev|er again:
The sun | of that mo|ment is set
And seems | to have ris|en in vain.
Now, though these lines are pretty, they are exposed to the charge
of being pretty sing-song, and monotonous jingle. But this had, long
before Cowper, been to a great extent remedied, though for comic
purposes only or mainly, in such things as Gay's "Molly Mog," quoted
above, and Chesterfield-Pulteney's
Had I Hanover, Bremen, and Ver|den,
And likewise the Duchy of Zell,
I would part with them all for a far|thing,
To have my dear Molly Lepell!
(Pronounce "Verden" with the proper English value of _er_, and give
"farthing" its then correct form of "farden," and the rhyme will be
spotless.)
What it was that made Byron take this up for a serious purpose in the
lines to Haidee (before _Don Juan_) is not, I believe, known:
I en|ter thy gar|den of ro|ses,
Belov|ed and fair | Haidee,
Each morn|ing where Flo|ra repo|ses,
For sure|ly I see | her in thee.
The gain here, from the redundant syllable and double rhyme in the odd
lines, and from a rather more frequent use of _dissyllabic_ feet to
prevent monotony, is immense. Praed adopted the measure, and improved
it still further, in his admirable "Letter of Advice":
Remem|ber the thrill|ing roman|ces
We read | on the bank | in the glen;
Remem|ber the suit|ors our fan|cies
Would pic|ture for both | of us then.
They wore | the red cross | on their shoul|der,
They had van|quished and par|doned their foe--
Sweet friend, | are you wi|ser or cold|er?
My own | Aramin|ta, say "No!"
And then Mr. Swinburne had the probably final inspiration of shortening
the last line to two feet (or an anapæstic monometer), with an
astonishing result of added and finished music:
Though the ma|ny lights dwin|dle to one | light,
There is help | if the heav|en has one,
Though the skies | be discrowned | of the sun|light,
And the earth | dispossessed | of the sun,
They have moon|light and sleep | for repay|ment
When, refreshed | as a bride | and set free,
With stars | and sea-winds | in her rai|ment,
Night sinks | on the sea.
XLV. LONG METRES OF TENNYSON, BROWNING, MORRIS, AND SWINBURNE
(_a_) Tennyson (_The Lotos-Eaters_):
For they | lie be|side their | nectar, | and the | bolts are | hurl'd
Fār bĕ|lōw thĕm | īn thĕ | vāllĕys, | ānd thĕ | clōuds ăre | līghtly̆ |
curl'd
Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world,
Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery
sands,
Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying
hands.
(Trochaic six- and seven-foot lines, always hypercatalectic, or, in
stricter language, trochaic trimeters hypercatalectic and tetrameters
catalectic.)
At the close the poet avails himself of the iambic alternative which is
so effective, and has a pure fourteener:
Ŏ̄ rēst | yĕ, brō|thĕr mā|rĭnērs, | wĕ wīll | nŏt wān|dĕr mōre. |
(There is no trisyllabic substitution.)
(_b_) Tennyson (_Maud_):
Cōld ănd clēar-cŭt fāce, why̆ cōme yŏu sŏ crūelly̆ mēek,
Brēakĭng ă slūmbĕr ĭn whīch āll splēenfŭl fōlly̆ wăs drōwn'd,
Pāle wĭth thĕ gōldĕn bēam ŏf ăn ēyelăsh dēad ŏn thĕ chēek,
Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a gloom profound;
Womanlike, taking revenge too deep for a transient wrong
Done but in thought to your beauty, and ever as pale as before
Growing and fading and growing upon me without a sound,
Luminous, gemlike, ghostlike, deathlike, half the night long
Growing and fading and growing, till I could bear it no more,
Bŭt ărōse, and all by myself in my own dark garden ground,
Listening now to the tide in its broad-flung shipwrecking roar,
Now to the scream of a madden'd beach dragg'd down by the wave,
Walk'd in a wintry wind by a ghastly glimmer, and found
Thĕ shīning daffodil dead, and Orion low in his grave.
(A rather deceptive metre; for which reason foot-division has been
postponed above.) It may look at first sight like a trochaic run, but
this will be found not to fit. Then hexameters of the _Evangeline_
type, with a syllable cut off at the end, suggest themselves; but it
will be seen that some openings make this very bad. It is really a
six-foot anapæst with the usual allowance of iambic substitution and of
monosyllabic ("anacrustic") beginning, as thus:
Cold | and clear-|cut face, | why come | you so cru|elly meek,
. . . . . . .
But arose, | and all | by myself | in my own | dark gar|den ground,
. . . . . . .
The shin|ing daf|fodil dead,| and Ori|on low | in his grave.
(_c_) Tennyson (_Voyage of Maeldune_):
And we came | to the Isle | of Flowers: | their breath | met us out |
on the seas,
For the Spring | and the mid|dle Sum|mer sat each | on the lap |
of the breeze;
And the red | passion-flower | to the cliffs, | and the dark-|blue
clem|atis, clung,
And starr'd | with a myr|iad blos|som the long | convol|vulus hung.
(Same metre, but almost purely anapæstic; the central pause frequently
strong.)
(_d_) Tennyson (_Kapiolani_)
When ¦ from the | ter¦rors of | Na¦ture a | peo¦ple have | fash¦ioned
and | wor¦ship a | spir¦it of | E¦vil.
(Apparently intended for a dactylic _octometer_. Like all these things
in English, it probably goes better as anapæstic with anacrusis and
hypercatalexis. See dotted scansion.)
(_e_) Browning (_Abt Vogler_):
Would ¦ that the | struc¦ture | brave, ¦ the | man¦ifold | mu¦sic I |
build,¦
Bid¦ding my | or¦gan o|bey, ¦| call¦ing its |keys ¦ to their | work,
Claim¦ing each | slave ¦ of the | sound ¦ at a | touch, ¦ as when |
So¦lomon | willed
Ar¦mies of | an¦gels that | soar, ¦| le¦gions of | de¦mons that |
lurk.
Man, brute, ¦| reptile, ¦| fly, ¦|| alien ¦ of | end ¦ and of | aim,
Ad¦verse | each ¦ from the | oth¦er, | hea¦ven-high ¦ hell-¦deep
re|moved,
Should rush ¦ into sight ¦ at once ¦ as he named ¦ the ineff¦able name,
And pile ¦ him a pal¦ace straight, ¦ to plea¦sure the prin¦cess he
loved.
(Note the alliteration.)
At first, as you read this, you can, if your ears are accustomed
to classical metres, have no doubt about the scheme. It is simply
the regular elegiac couplet "accentually" rendered in English, with
the abscission of the last syllable of the hexameter--a catalectic
hexameter and a pentameter acatalectic. For the first four lines of
the first octave there is no doubt at all. But when you get on to
the second half you are pulled up. In the fifth and sixth lines the
pentameter seems to have got to the first place, and the seventh is
no more a hexameter than the eighth is its proper companion. For a
moment you may fancy that this was intended--that the poet meant
octaves of two different parts. But when you look at the other stanzas
you will find that this is by no means the case. Truncated elegiac
cadence appears, reappears, disappears in the most bewildering fashion,
till you recognise--sooner or later according to your prosodic
experience--that it was only simulated cadence after all, a sort of
leaf-insect rhythm, and that the whole thing (as marked by the dotted
scansion lines) is in six-foot anapæsts equivalenced daringly, but
quite legitimately, with monosyllabic and dissyllabic feet.
(_f_) W. Morris ("The Wind"):
Ah! | no, no, | it is no|thing, sure|ly no|thing, at all,
On|ly the wild-|going wind | round | by the gar|den wall,
For the dawn | just now | is break|ing, the wind | begin|ning to fall.
_Wind, wind, | thou art | sad, art | thou kind?
Wind, | wind, | unhap|py! thou | art blind,
Yet still | thou wan|derest | the lil|y-seed | to find._
(First three lines six-foot (trimeter) anapæsts with full substitution.
Refrain a graded "wheel" of four, four _or_ five, and six iambic feet.)
(_g_) Morris (_Love is Enough_):
Such words shall my ghost see the chronicler writing
In the days that shall be--ah!--what would'st more, my fosterling?
Knowest thou not how words fail us awaking,
That we seemed to hear plain amid sleep and its sweetness.
(Intentionally irregular "accentual" lines, but with an anapæstic
or amphibrachic "under-hum." There is a good deal of alliteration
elsewhere, and some here.)
(_h_) Morris (_Sigurd_ metre, but the actual example from _The House of
the Wolfings_):
Thou sayest it, I am outcast: || for a God that lacketh mirth
Hath no more place in God-home || and never a place on earth.
A man grieves, and he gladdens, || or he dies and his grief is gone;
But what of the grief of the Gods? and || the sorrow never undone?
Yea, verily, I am the outcast. || When first in thine arms I lay,
On the blossoms of the woodland || my godhead passed away;
Thenceforth unto thee I was looking || for the light and the glory of
life,
And the Gods' doors shut behind me || till the day of the uttermost
strife.
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou || wilt cast it into the night,
And cover thine head with the darkness || and cover thine eyes from the
light.
Thou would'st go to the empty country || where never a seed is sown,
And never a deed is fashioned || and the place where each is alone;
But I thy thrall shall follow, || I shall come where thou seem'st to
lie,
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, || and thou so dear and nigh!
A few bones white in their war-gear, || that have no help or thought,
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, || so nigh, so dear--and nought!
(A splendid construction from older and newer examples. Strongly
stressed, strictly middle-paused, but perfectly regular anapæstic
sixes, with substitution _and a hypercatalectic syllable or half foot
at the pause_.)
(_i_) Mr. Swinburne (_Hesperia_ and _Evening on the Broads_).
The first line of _Hesperia_ is practically a Kingsleyan hexameter (_v.
inf._) of the very best kind--
Out | of the gold|en remote | wild west | where the sea |
without shore | is;
while the second--
Full of the sunset and sad ¦ if at ¦ all with the fulness of joy,
is a pentameter of similar mould, with the centre gap cunningly filled
in by the two short stitches "if at," capable, as you see below in
Thee I beheld as bird ¦ borne ¦ in with the wind from the west,
of being duly equivalenced with one long stitch, like "borne." Yet
the second line is capable also of being scanned exactly as the
first--anacrusis and five anapæests--but without the final redundance
or hypercatalexis; and in other long lines you will find that the
principle of equivalence is preserved throughout--that two shorts, as in
Ăs ă wind | blows in | from the au|tumn that blows | from the re|gion
of stories,
defeat the hexametrical movement, and pull off the mask at the
beginning, though it returns at the end. The metre is really anapæstic
throughout. And in _Evening on the Broads_ the poet has carried this
further still, providing in some cases regular apparent elegiacs:
O|ver the ¦ sha|dowless ¦ wa|ters a¦drift | as a ¦ pin|nace ¦
in per|il,
Hangs | as in ¦ hea|vy sus¦pense || charged | with ir¦re|solute ¦
light.
(_j_) Mr. Swinburne (_Choriambics_):
Lōve, whăt | āiled thĕe tŏ lēave | līfe thăt wăs māde | lōvely̆ wĕ
thōught | wĭth lōve?--
(_k_) Mr. Swinburne (other long anapæstic and trochaic measures):
If again | from the night | or the twi|light of a|ges Aris|tophanes |
had ari|sen.
. . . . . . .
That the sea | was not love|lier than here | was the land, nor the
night | than the day, | nor the day | than the night.
. . . . . . .
Night is | utmost | noon, for|lorn and | strong, with | heart a|thirst
and | fasting.
. . . . . . .
Till the dark|ling desire | of delight | shall be far, | as a fawn |
that is free | from the fangs | that pursue | her.
(These are respectively seven-foot anapæsts with redundance
(anapæstic tetrameter catalectic); ditto eight-foot (tetrameter
acatalectic); trochaic tetrameter acatalectic; and anapæstic tetrameter
hypercatalectic (eight feet and a half).)
XLVI. THE LATER SONNET
(To illustrate the strict octave and sextet pattern with final rhymes
adjusted on the Italian pattern.)
Dante Rossetti:
Under the arch of Life, where love and death,
Tērrŏr and mys|tĕry̆, gūard | her shrine, I saw
Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe,
I drew it in as simply as my breath.
Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath
The sky and sea, bend o'er thee--which can draw
By sea, or sky, or woman, to one law
Thĕ ăllōt|ted burden of her palm and wreath.
This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still--long known to thee
By flying hair and flut|tĕrĭng hēm |--the beat
Fōllŏwĭng | her daily of thy heart and feet.
How pas|sĭonătelȳ | and irretrievably
In what fond flight, how many ways and days!
XLVII. THE VARIOUS ATTEMPTS AT "HEXAMETERS" IN ENGLISH
(_a_) Earlier (Elizabethan):
All travel|lers do | gladly re|port great | praise of U|lysses,
For that he | knew many | men's man|nĕrs and | saw many | cities.
(Watson, ap. Asch. _Schoolmaster_, p. 73, ed. Arber.)
But thē | Queene in | meane while | carks quan|dare deepe | anguisht,
Her wound | fed by Ve|nus, with | firebayt | smoldred is | hooked:
Thee wights | doughtye man|hood, leagd | with gen|tilytye | nobil,
His woords | fitlye | placed, with his | heunly | phisnomye | pleasing,
March throgh her | hert mas|tring, all in | her breste deepelye she |
printeth.
(Stanyhurst, _Æn._ iv. 1-5, ed. Arber, p. 94.)
What might I | call this | tree? A | Laurell? | O bonny | Laurell.
Needes to thy | bowes will I | bow this | knee and | vayle my bo|netto.
(Harvey in letter to Spenser, _Eliz. Crit. Essays_,
ed. Gregory Smith, i. 106.)
See yee the | blindefold|ēd pretie | god, that | feathered | archer
Of lo|vērs mise|ries || which maketh | his bloodie | game.
(Spenser in letter to Harvey, _ibid._ i. 99.)
(All these tried to _accommodate_--though sometimes rather
roughly--English pronunciation to such of the rules of Latin quantity,
by "nature" and "position," as could be applied. Some of them even
tried to make general rules for English quantity. But the wiser, from
Ascham to Campion, admitted that dactylic rhythm was difficult, if not
impossible, to keep up in our language.)
(_b_) Later Georgian and Victorian.
(1) Coleridge (Specimen _c._ 1799?):
In ¦ the hex|am¦eter | ri¦ses the | foun¦tain's | sil¦very | col¦umn;
In ¦ the pen|ta¦meter | aye || fall¦ing in | mel¦ody | back.
(A very fair attempt, but already showing the natural tendency of the
lines, when _poetically_ rhythmed, to anapæstic--the dotted--scansion.)
(2) Southey (_Vision of Judgment_):
'Twas at that | sober | hour when the | light of | day is re|ceding
And from sur|rounding | things the | hues wherewith | day has a|dorned
them
Fade like the | hopes of | youth, till the | beauty of |
each has de|parted.
(Anapæstic run avoided with some skill, save now and then; but at the
cost of weak beginnings, frequent, and admitted, substitution of
trochaic for spondaic effect, and, above all, as in line 1, an ugly
rocking-horse division into three batches of two feet each instead of
the proper 2-1/2 + 3-1/2 or 3-1/2 + 2-1/2.)
(3) Longfellow (_Evangeline_):
Long with|in had been | spread the | snow-white | cloth on the | table;
There stood the | wheaten | loaf, and the | honey | fragrant with |
wild flowers;
There stood the | tankard of | ale and the | cheese fresh | brought |
from the | dairy;
And at the | head of the | board the | great arm-|chair of the |
farmer.
Thus did Ev|angeline | wait at her | father's | door as the | sunset
Threw the long | shadows of | trees o'er the | broad am|brosial |
meadows.
Ah! on her | spirit with|in a | deeper | shadow had | fallen.
(A popular, tunable sort of rhythm, obtained by a very large proportion
of dactyls--often really giving (and always when really good) the
anapæstic effect,--unhesitating adoption of trochees and even pyrrhics
for spondees, and not seldom the Southeyan split at feet 2 and 4. An
essentially _rickety_ measure.)
(4) Clough--earlier (in the _Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich--Evangeline_
type, but with more spondees and spondaic endings):
I was quite | right last | night, it | is too sōon, tōo | sudden.
(5) Later he attempted English "quantitative" things of this kind:
Tō thĕ păl|āte grāte|ful; more | luscious | were not in | Eden;
and
Unto the | sweet flut|ing, girls, of a swarthy shĕphērd.
This deliberate _neglect_ of pronunciation ("pălāte" for "pālăte,"
"shĕphērd" for "shēphĕrd") has, in the last half-century or so,
developed itself into a still more deliberate crusade _against_
pronunciation; it being supposed that a conflict of accent and quantity
has something attractive about it. Thus the late Mr. Stone wrote as a
hexameter:
Is my | weary tră|vāil[47] end|ēd? Much | further is | īn store.
(6) On the other hand, Kingsley's _Andromeda_--the best poem of
some length intended for English hexameters--is clearly, though not
consciously, anapæstic, as thus:
O|ver the moun|tain aloft | ran a rush | and a roll | and a roar|ing
Down|ward the breeze | came malig|nant and leapt | with a howl |
to the wa|ter,
Roar|ing in cran|ny and crag | till the pil|lars and clefts |
of the ba|salt
Rang | like a god-|swept lyre.
And Mr. Swinburne did the same thing (see above) consciously.
XLVIII. MINOR IMITATIONS OF CLASSICAL METRES
(_a_) Sapphics (Watts):
When the | fierce North-|wind with his | airy | forces
Bears up | the Bal|tic to a | foaming | fury,
And the | red light|ning with a | storm of | hail comes
Rushing a|main down.
This illustrates--as do the pieces which it, beyond all doubt,
patterned, though in succession rather than directly (Cowper's "Hatred
and Vengeance," Southey's "Cold was the Night Wind," and Canning's
triumphant parody of this latter, the "Needy Knifegrinder")--the
unyokeableness of classical metres--when not merely iambic, trochaic,
or anapæstic--to English rhythm. The proper run of the Sapphic line is--
tumti-tumtum-tumtity-tumti-tum {-ti
{-tum;
but this constantly in English, though not so much in the first line as
elsewhere, changes itself into
{ -tum
tumtity-tum { || tumtiti-titumty.
{ -ti
Mr. Swinburne has got it right, but only as a _tour de force_, and, as
in line 2, not always quite certainly.
Saw the | white im|placable | Aphro|dite,
Saw the | hair un|bound and the | feet un|sandalled
Shine as | fire of | sunset on | western |waters,
Saw the re|luctant.
But Southey and Canning always suggest the wrong:
Shē hăd nŏ ¦ hōme, thē̆ ¦ wōrld wăs ăll ¦ bĕfōre hĕr,
and
Stōry̆, sĭr? ¦ Blēss yŏu! ¦ Ī hăve nŏne ¦ tŏ tēll yŏu;
(_b_) Alcaics (Tennyson):
O migh|ty-mouthed | in|ventor of | harmonies,
O skilled | to sing | of | Time or E|ternity,
God-gift|ed or|gan-voice | of Eng|land,
Milton, a | name to re|sound for | ages.
(Correct, but not natural.)
(_c_) Hendecasyllabics (Coleridge):
Hear, my be|loved, an | old Mi|lesian | story!--
High, and em|bosom'd in | congre|gated | laurels,
Glimmer'd a temple upon a breezy headland;
In the dim distance, amid the skiey billows,
Rose a fair island; the god of flocks had blest it.
(These very pretty lines exhibit a most curious instance of the
unconscious force of the prosodic genius of a language. Coleridge was a
good classical scholar, and quite enough of a mathematician to know the
difference between 11 and 12. Yet every one of these _hendeca_syllabics
will be found to be a _dodeca_syllabic; the poet having substituted
(as in English prosody is quite allowable) an initial dactyl for the
dissyllabic foot of the original metre. Once more this shows the
English _impatience_ of classical form.)
(_d_) Hendecasyllabics (Tennyson):
O you chorus of indolent reviewers,
Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,
Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem
All composed in a metre of Catullus.
. . . . . . .
Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tumble,
So fantastical is the dainty metre.
A triumph, but a criticism as well, as its own ending shows:
As some rare little rose, a piece of inmost
Horticultural art--
or "_versi_cultural" rather.
(_e_) Galliambics.
These have been tried splendidly by Tennyson in _Boadicea_,
interestingly by Mr. George Meredith in _Phaethon_, unsuccessfully by
the late Mr. Grant Allen in his version of the _Atys_ of Catullus. But
the metre is not quite plain sailing even in Greek and Latin, and it is
therefore better to leave it alone here and return to it in Glossary.
XLIX. IMITATIONS OF ARTIFICIAL FRENCH FORMS
(_a_) Triolet:
Rose kissed | me to-day.
Will she kiss | me to-mor|row?
Let it be | as it may,
Rose kissed | me to-day.
But the plea|sure gives way
To a sa|vour of sor|row;--
Rose kissed | me to-day,--
_Will_ she | kiss me to-morrow?
(_b_) Rondeau:
With pipe and flute the rustic Pan
Of old made music sweet for man;
And wonder hushed the warbling bird,
And closer drew the calm-eyed herd,--
The rolling river slowlier ran.
Ah! would,--ah! would, a little span,
Some air of Arcady could fan
This age of ours, too seldom stirred
With pipe and flute!
But now for gold we plot and plan;
And from Beersheba unto Dan,
Apollo's self might pass unheard,
Or find the night-jar's note preferred;--
Not so it fared, when time began,
With pipe and flute!
(The number of lines in a rondeau is not immutable, nor is it in a
rondel, where the principle is the return of whole lines as in the
triolet, but, since the poem is longer, giving room for more _not_
repeated matter.)
(_c_) Ballade:
Ship, to the roadstead rolled,
What dost thou?--O, once more
Regain the port. Behold!
Thy sides are bare of oar,
Thy tall mast wounded sore
Of Africus, and see,
What shall thy spars restore?--
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
What cable now will hold
When all drag out from shore?
What god canst thou, too bold,
In time of need implore?
Look! for thy sails flap o'er,
Thy stiff shrouds part and flee,
Fast--fast thy seams outpour,--
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
What though thy ribs of old
The pines of Pontus bore!
Not now to stern of gold
Men trust, or painted prore!
Thou, or thou count'st it store
A toy of winds to be,
Shun thou the Cyclads' roar,--
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
ENVOY.
Ship of the State, before
A care, and now to me
A hope in my heart's core,--
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
(All these examples are Mr. Austin Dobson's, and inserted here by his
kind permission. It will be observed that the _lines_ follow general
English prosodic rules. It is only the stanza that is borrowed.)
L. LATER RHYMELESSNESS
(_a_) M. Arnold (_The Strayed Reveller._ Words printed exactly as
original, except the added "_and_"; the also added brackets show the
unconscious decasyllabism):
[Ever new magic!
Hast thou then lured hither,]
[Wonderful Goddess, by thy art,
The young], [languid-eyed Ampelus,
Iacchus' darling--]
. . . . . . .
[They see the Indian
Drifting, knife in hand,]
[His frail boat moor'd to
A floating isle thick-matted]
[With large-leaved [_and_] low-creeping melon-leaves,]
[_x_] And the dark cucumber.
[He reaps, and stows them,
Drifting--drifting;--round him,
[Round his green harvest-plot,
Flow the cool lake-waves,]
[_y_] The mountains ring them.
(Here the first piece is three pure decasyllables, with redundance,
cut into five. The second requires only the addition of the italicised
"and" to make it a complete blank-verse passage with two shortened
lines or half-lines, _x_ and _y_, of the kind common in Shakespeare.
The poem is crammed with shorter stanza-pieces of the same kind.)
(_b_) Mr. Henley ("Speed." Printed as original and as prose):
Roads where the stalwart
Soldier of Cæsar
Put by his bread
And his garlic, and girding
[His conquering sword
To his unconquered thigh,]
Lay down in his armour,
And went to his Gods
By the way that he'd made.
Roads where the stalwart soldier of Cæsar put by his
bread and his garlic, and girding [his conquering sword
to his unconquered thigh,] lay down in his armour, and
went to his Gods by the way he had made.
(The decasyllable is not quite avoided even here, as in the bracketed
phrase. But the main point is that the thing reads perfectly well as
prose, with no obvious suggestion of metre at all.)
LI. SOME "UNUSUAL" METRES AND DISPUTED SCANSIONS
Some measures of recent poets have been objected, or at least proposed,
as offering difficulties in respect of the system of this book. It has
therefore seemed well to scan them here.
(_a_) Frederic Myers (_St. Paul_):
Yēs, wī̆th|out ¦ cheer | of ¦ sis|ter ¦ or | of ¦ daugh|ter--
Yēs, wī̆th|out ¦ stay | of ¦ fa|ther ¦ or | of ¦ son--
Lōne ō̆n | the land | and home|less on | the water
Pāss Ī̆ | in pa|tience till | the work | be done.
(There is nothing very peculiar or at all original in this, though it
was probably now first used continuously for a poem of some length.
It is only decasyllabic quatrain with uniform redundance in the first
and third lines, and a strong inclination to trochaic opening, which
in its turn suggests a primary dactyl and trochees to follow, as an
alternative (see dotted scansion). Examples of it anterior to Myers
may be found--commented on in the larger _History_ (vol. iii. 481)--in
_Zophiel_, very likely known to Myers, as he was much connected by
family friendship with the Lake School; in the famous poem
From the lone sheiling on the misty island,
the authorship of which has been so much contested; and in Emily
Bronte's _Remembrance_ (see again vol. iii. of _Hist. Pros._ p. 378),
of which he cannot possibly have been ignorant.[48] His own share in
the matter would seem to have been limited to the persevering adoption
of it in an unvaried form. Whether this be an advantage or not is a
question of taste: the prosodic description of the metre is clear and
in no way recondite.)
(_b_) Ernest Dowson (_Cynara_) [_Non sum qualis eram_, etc.]:
Last night, | ah! yes|ter night | betwixt | her lips | and mine
There fell | thy sha|dow, Cy|nara! | thy breath | was shed
Upon | my soul | between | the kiss|es and | the wine,
And I | was de|solate, | and sick | of an | old passion;
Yea, I | was de|solate | and bowed | my head.
I have | been faith|ful to | thee, Cy|nara, in my fashion.
(Sextet of Alexandrines with decasyllable (or brachycatalexis) in the
5th line, and with hypercatalexis, redundance, or double rhyme in the
4th and 6th. An original collocation, so far as I know, but nothing
new or strange in principle. The actual poem is a rather beautiful
one; but how much is contributed to the beauty by the special metre is
another question. At any rate, once more, it has no difficulties for
foot-scansion.)
(_c_) The universally known passage in _Macbeth_--
To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow,
with the following lines, has also been proposed as a _crux_. But this
must have been a not very brilliant joke; and it would be an insult to
the student to scan the passage. It is one of the finest specimens
of Shakespearian equivalence and "fingered" blank verse, but offers
no more difficulties, on the system of this book, than any couplet
of Pope or any verse of the "Old Hundredth." On the other hand, many
passages of Shakespeare may not illegitimately puzzle the student if
he does not realise that, although (it is believed) every line which
is not corrupt can be scanned on our system, every line is by no means
an exact five-foot. In accordance with the best English practice,
older and newer, Shakespeare does not scruple to _extend_ his lines
to Alexandrines, and even to fourteeners, while the exigencies of
drama entitle him to use lines of _less_ than five full feet. _But all
these--the fragments as well as the extended lines--obey the general
law of iambic arrangement with substitution in individual feet._ Thus
in Lady Macbeth's invocation of the Spirits of Evil (I. v. 49)--
And take | my milk | for gall, | you mur|dering min|isters,
is a regular Alexandrine. Her husband's hallucination--
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this | which now | I draw,
stops in the second line at the third foot. Different lines of the
ghost's great speech in _Hamlet_ (I. v. 42-91) show the Alexandrine--
O, hor|rible! | O, hor|rible! | most hor|rible!
and a fragment of two feet and a half--
All my | smooth bo|dy.
If studied in this way, even the scenes where short speeches of the
conversational kind form the staple will be found to piece themselves
together perfectly well in continuous scansion.
FOOTNOTES:
[31] More will be found on this and the origin of other metres in Bk.
IV.
[32] Or possibly
Hwi nul|tu fa|re to | Nor[e]weie,
which is more likely as to "farè" ("farè[n]"), and looks forward to the
fashion in which we now say "Norway," but "Gall_o_way." The remark will
extend to not a few other scansions.
[33] For origin and explanation see Glossary.
[34] See again Bk. IV. for fuller information on this.
[35] The MS. has the contraction "Sēn."
[36] As in "hips and haws."
[37] From Spenser onward the spelling is modern.
[38] Spenser here takes (as he sometimes continued to do even in
_F. Q._) the liberty of shifting the rhyming syllable. There is no
doubt that this is not a good liberty. But in struggling out of the
fifteenth-century slough Wyatt was constantly driven to it, and it
was not till the seventeenth that poets recognised the fact that the
easement was more of a disfigurement than it was worth.
[39] "Fallen" is pretty certainly "fall'n."
[40] For more on Shakespeare's blank verse see the close of this
chapter and the next Book.
[41] For _Paradise Lost_, _Paradise Regained_, and _Samson Agonistes_,
_v. inf._ Book II.
[42] For scanned examples of Shakespeare's complete prosodic grasp in
lyric, _v. inf._ pp. 182-3.
[43] See Glossary, "Musical and Rhetorical Arrangements."
[44] For more on the differences of his couplet and Dryden's, see next
Book.
[45] Unrhymed termination as far as end-syllable goes.
[46] See next Book.
[47] I regret that in my larger _History_ (iii. 430-431) I did not
notice the misprint of "travel"; metrically, however, it makes no real
difference.
[48] In fact, there are even much older examples, as in Cleveland's
_Mark Antony_ and some things of Dryden's, on one of their possible
scansions, see _Hist. Pros._ III. chap. iii.
BOOK II
HISTORICAL SKETCH OF ENGLISH PROSODY
CHAPTER I
FROM THE ORIGINS TO CHAUCER--THE CONSTITUTION OF ENGLISH VERSE[49]
[Sidenote: Relations of "Old" to "Middle" and "New" English]
The main fact, at once central and fundamental--a pivot whereon the
whole structure at once rests and turns,--which it is necessary to
understand in order to understand English prosody, is connected
with--is indeed one side or case of--the other fact of the history
of English language and English literature. So far as is known to
the present writer, no other language and no other literature stand
in precisely the same condition, as regards the relation of their
technically "Old," "Middle," and "New" or "Modern" forms. The relation
of what is called "Old" French to Modern is not that of "Old" English
to Modern, but rather that of "Middle," if not a closer one still. And
though "High" and "Low" German have had their various stages separated
for philological purposes, the Continental Teutonic dialects have
never undergone anything like the process of modification by Romance
influence, older and younger, popular and literary, which turned
Anglo-Saxon into English between the eleventh and the thirteenth
centuries.
[Sidenote: generally,]
This process was one not so much--if indeed it was one at all--of
conscious borrowing: it was one not so much of deliberate imitation
(though there was much of that in a way) as one of actual physical
impregnation, fertilising, blending, which resulted in a true and
permanent "cross" or "hybrid perpetual," possessing and exercising the
faculties of self-development and self-propagation.
[Sidenote: and in prosody.]
In perhaps no way were these faculties more strikingly and remarkably
exercised and illustrated than in regard to prosody; and it must,
unluckily, be added that in no instance has their exercise been more
frequently and more fatally misconstrued. The present writer begins
a fresh attempt to set forth what really happened with the following
encouragement--in the way of a reviewer's sentence on his earlier and
larger effort--before his eyes: "Mr. S.'s contention is that A.S.
prosody died out, and that English prosody is entirely drawn from the
Latin, with the aid of French and Provençal." Now the "contention"
of the _History of English Prosody_ is as directly and deliberately
bent _against_ this doctrine as against Dr. Guest's theory, that the
principles of Anglo-Saxon prosody have governed English throughout
its course. These "falsehoods of extremes" appear to have more lives
than a cat, if not as many heads as a hydra; and their main principle
of vitality no doubt is that it is possible to put them in plump
plain-looking phraseology "which the Beaver can well understand." What
did actually happen was far less simple; but the attempt to explain it
must once more be made.
[Sidenote: Anglo-Saxon prosody itself.]
As to what Anglo-Saxon prosody itself was, although, as in all these
matters, there are minor dissidences among the authorities, the main
arrangement is sun-clear. There is practically only one line; though
(and the fact is of inestimable importance, and when once really
understood will carry the understander through to the very present day)
the syllabic lengths of that line may differ largely even in normal
cases, and to an at first sight almost irrational degree in what are
called the "extended" varieties.
This normal line in its most normal condition--neither cut short nor
drawn out--consists usually of about nine or ten syllables. These are
not arranged so as to produce a definite foot-rhythm, though there is
a general suggestion of the trochee. And attempts (not to be spoken
of with anything but encouragement and wishes for their success, if
with some doubt as to its attainment) have been made to assign, in all
cases, definite division into associations of syllables which might be
called "feet." Other features are unmistakable and incontestable. There
is always a sharp middle division--so strong that the lines may be,
and often are, printed as halves. There are always more or fewer (most
frequently two in the first half and one in the second) _alliterated_
syllables (one consonant or any vowel). And these syllables, with
occasionally another or so, are usually _accented_, but divided from
each other by a certain or uncertain number of _unaccented_ ones. The
proportion and arrangement of these fall into the controverted things;
and the _extension_ of the normal line is a point only of indirect
importance, though of very great importance indirectly, here. The
attempts which have been made to trace ballad metre, nursery-rhyme
metre, etc., to A.S. originals are also outside our limits. To the
present writer they appear to be hopelessly vitiated by two absolutely
certain facts: (1) that we do not know how Anglo-Saxon was pronounced;
(2) that its pronunciation, whatever it was, must have been radically
affected by the changes which made it into Middle English. But four
cardinal points remain, of such importance that they cannot be too
attentively studied or too constantly remembered. They are these:
that the oldest English prosody rested on (1) a system of hard and
fast middle pause; (2) alliteration, distributed over the whole line;
(3) accented and unaccented syllables, the former usually knit to the
alliteration in some kind of sub-combination; but (4) that the laws
of this combination, and the principle on which the sub-combinations
could be substituted, omitted, or multiplied, were of the freest
description. It is said, and it can well be believed, that they forbade
some things. It is certain that they permitted very many, combining
the freest _substitution_ in the same line, of the kind observable in
the Latin and Greek hexameter or trimeter, with an apparent variety of
lengths, in different lines, hardly inferior to that of a Greek chorus
or ode.
[Sidenote: Prosody of the Transition to to Middle English]
This prosody governed English verse from a time certainly anterior to
the existence of any "English" nationality to about 1000 A.D., the
great bulk of the production resulting under it being considerably
older than the last-named date. At or about that date, certainly
before the "Conquest," it began to be subjected to devitalising and
disintegrating influences, not necessary to be discussed in detail
here. The important fact is that from _c._ 1000 to _c._ 1200 the
existing amount of Old English verse is very small indeed; and that,
even in the few existing probably dated examples, singular changes
begin to exhibit themselves. In the "Rhyming Poem" (before 1000?)
the introduction of the element indicated in the title completely
revolutionises the system.[50] In the "Grave Poem" (_c._ 1100?) a new
element of rhythm appears, the tendency being, here and henceforth,
to substitute iambic, varied by anapæestic, cadence for the general
trochaic run, and to associate two lines or four halves in a kind of
quatrain.[51] In the remarkable fragments of St. Godric (1150?) rhyme,
which does not appear in the "Grave Poem," assists the rhythmical
tendency of this latter to make a new music;[52] and the well-known
"Canute Song"[53] chimes in. While if the "Paternoster" be really of
the twelfth century, as some have said, there are in it iambic dimeter
couplets[54] of a kind which never, by any chance, suggests itself in
the whole corpus of Anglo-Saxon poetry proper.
This couplet is neither more nor less than a pair of iambic dimeters or
"four-accent ['-beat'] lines in rising stress," shortened occasionally
to seven syllables instead of eight, probably from the first also
admitting extension, _not_ by addition of feet, but by substitution of
them.
[Sidenote: Contrast in Layamon.]
Two couplets, or two batches of short (half) lines, from Layamon will
show the difference at once and unmistakably to any one who possesses
an ear:
Eorles ¦ ther com¦en ||
riche ¦ and wel ¦ idone.
. . . . . . .
Thă ān|swĕrē|dĕ Vōr|tĭgēr
Ŏf ēl|chĕn vū|ĕl hē | wĕs wēr.
The first distich, it will be observed, is a loose and broken-down
one on the schemes of perfect O.E. verse. There is hardly any real
alliteration, and the accented syllables are clumsily placed and
valued. But the thing does retain, and that pretty sufficiently, the
strong centre pause, and the folding-back swing of the two halves,
like those of a flail or a pair of lemon-squeezers, which are the
real characteristics of O.E. or A.S. verse. It is not itself "riche"
versification; it is not "wel idone"; but you cannot mistake it for
anything but what it is.
With the other you have got into a new world. There _is_ alliteration
here; but it has nothing on earth to do with the construction and run
of the verse. There is what you may call accent if you insist upon
it; but it is quite differently and much more regularly arranged,
constituting, moreover, a rhythm perfectly distinct to the ear. There
are two halves; but the second half is not so much a completion as a
repetition. And instead of the strong middle break--a break and nothing
else--the halves are tipped with _rhyme_--a division which, if they
were printed straight on, you would not notice till you got to the end
of the second, and which requires very little (hardly any) stop of the
voice, while the breach of the old couplet insists on this.
[Sidenote: Examinations of it--Insufficient.]
Now the question legitimately suggests itself, "Why is this strange
contrast present?"--a contrast which, it should be added, is not only
present but _omnipresent_ in this great poem of 30,000 (half) lines
in all forms, from something quite near the old A.S. line, through
things farther from it, to imperfect forms of the new couplet and so
to perfect ones. One answer is as follows: "This couplet was already
established in _French_ literature--in fact in the very French
literature (Wace) which formed part of Layamon's originals. Moreover,
it exists also in _Latin_--the Latin of the hymns with which the priest
Layamon must have been perfectly familiar. When, therefore, it appears,
he is simply imitating it with more or less success." Now the facts
of this answer, as far as they go, are indisputable. The octosyllabic
couplet, though not so old as the decasyllabic _line_ in O.F., is
very old, and by Layamon's time had been written very largely indeed.
Octosyllabic lines, both of iambic and trochaic cadence, form the very
staple of the Latin hymns; and both in Latin (earlier far) and in
French, after a period of assonance, rhyme had thoroughly established
itself.
So far, so good; but it is to be hoped that intelligent minds will
perceive an occurring difficulty. If this selection of metre is an
elaborate attempt to imitate French or Latin, or both, why are its
results so extraordinarily _sporadic_? One could understand the
presence of many imperfect lines and couplets; it might even be
surprising that in a first attempt there should be such good ones as
that above quoted. But how could the man, in an actual majority of
cases, produce stuff like the other distich quoted, and many more
unrhythmical still, which are not even _attempts_ at the iambic
couplet--which have no connection whatever with it?
[Sidenote: Sufficient.]
No; an explanation at once more subtle and more natural is wanted; for
it is a great mistake to think that the subtler is necessarily the less
natural. Does not this immense mass of apparently confused experiment
suggest that the language itself has passed into a new rhythmical
atmosphere?--that two different metrical systems, one dropping and
dying off ever fainter to the ear, the other becoming clearer and
clearer to it, were sounding in Layamon's brain? Sometimes he writes
under one influence; sometimes under the other; more frequently under
confused echoes of both. Such a set of causes would produce exactly
such a set of results.
Nor is it of the slightest relevance, as an objection, to say that
the total number of new Romance _words_ in Layamon is very small--a
couple of hundred perhaps in both forms of the poem taken together.
You do not necessarily require one Romance word to fashion the most
complicated metres of Tennyson and Mr. Swinburne. The point is, "What
was the general _rhythm_, and what were the means of obtaining it,
which sounded most gratefully in English ears at the opening of the
thirteenth century and onwards?"
The facts, if they, as they too seldom have been, are carefully
arranged and impartially considered, answer this further question as
clearly as any reasonable person can desire.
We possess a relatively considerable number of poems composed probably
between 1200 and 1250. The most important of these are, besides
Layamon's _Brut_ itself, the _Ormulum_, the _Poema Morale_ or _Moral
Ode_, the _Orison of Our Lady_, a _Bestiary_, the _Proverbs of Alfred_
and of _Hendyng_, the _Love-Rune_ and other minor pieces, the Middle
English _Genesis and Exodus_, and _The Owl and the Nightingale_.
[Sidenote: Other documents.]
Hardly two of these are in the same metre, at least in the same form
of the same metre, and none of them exhibits exactly the same curious
blend of old and new as that which appears in the _Brut_. But, for that
very reason, they enforce the same general lesson--for they do enforce
it--in the most striking and conclusive way possible. That lesson is,
as we saw, that the new _language_ of English was seeking in every
possible way for a new _prosody_ of English, and was finding it under
several and special forms of experiment, but in the same general spirit.
[Sidenote: The _Ormulum_.]
Orm--evidently, from his punctilio about spelling,[55] a man curious
and particular about details--adopts the French principle of absolute
syllabic uniformity; though he does not accept any of the actually
existing French metres, and rejects--possibly to save trouble, possibly
as thinking them unsuitable to his sacred subject--both assonance and
rhyme. He writes--in the strictest and most humdrum iambic cadence,
as of the least-inspired French or Latin poetry--"fifteeners" or
combinations of eights and _sevens_. Of the old long-lined stave he
has kept no positive quality but its centre pause, and hardly any
important negative one save its rhymelessness. Of the new metre, he
has aimed at--he has certainly reached--nothing but its foot-division
and consequent rhythm. But he has got these in the most pronounced,
if hardly in the most attractive, form. Except for the odd syllable,
we are here already in full presence of the jog-trot ballad and hymn
"common measure" of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Nay,
this odd syllable itself is of great interest, for it reappears in the
_sung_ "breath" or "grunt"--"a":
Your sad one tires in a mile-a, etc.
[Sidenote: The _Moral Ode_ and the _Orison of Our Lady_.]
Opinions may differ slightly on the question whether this _fif_teener
is actually the same as the _four_teener which later became so common,
and which directly engendered the common measure itself; or whether
the two were independent attempts to _metricise_ the old long line.
It is of course clear that, as final _e_'s dropped off, fifteen
would become fourteen in any case. But in two of the poems mentioned
above, the _Moral Ode_ and the _Orison of Our Lady_, although the
first-named has many fifteeners, and the last is highly irregular,
the set towards iambic seven-foot rhythm is well marked. And there
are two still more interesting things about these two poems. We have
several versions of the _Poema Morale_ which have been arranged--_not_
on prosodic grounds--in order of chronological sequence. And it is in
the highest degree noteworthy that the latest of these forms, like
the later version of Layamon, exhibits remarkable touches of prosodic
_melioration_. It is still more important that among the irregular and
experimental varieties of the _Orison_ actual iambic _decasyllables_,
and, what is more, something like the decasyllabic couplet, make their
appearance nearly two centuries before Chaucer.[56]
[Sidenote: The _Proverbs of Alfred_ and _Hendyng_.]
These remarkable lessons in comparison are repeated, with the usual and
invaluable confirmation of variety, in the curious documents called
respectively the _Proverbs Alfred_ and the _Proverbs of Hendyng_.
The relation, in point of matter, of the latter to the former, and
of the former itself to a possible A.S. collection made by the king,
or under his auspices, need not concern us. It is enough that our
existing _Proverbs of Alfred_ are M.E. in language and early thirteenth
century in date; while those of "Hendyng" are perhaps half a century
younger. These latter are slightly more modern in language; but this
is accompanied by, and no doubt not a little directly connected
with, still greater modernisation of form. The earlier rehandler (or
some of the rehandlers, for the work is pretty certainly not of one
only) evidently stuck as near as he could to his original--words
and all. But he was, or they were, in Layamon's state--only more
so. Rhyme appears fitfully; regular iambic and trochaic rhythm more
fitfully; alliteration most fitfully of all. The various sections
are stanza-bundles of short lines or half lines, which, taken singly
and printed straight on, might tempt no very hasty, ill-informed, or
unintelligent reader to regard them as sheer prose, with an irregular
sing-song and jingle here and there. On the other hand, the _Proverbs
of Hendyng_ are unmistakable English verse, the stanza called in French
_rime couée_, from the Latin _versus caudatus_ (afterwards common and
famous as the six-line stanza in which a very large proportion, if not
the majority, of our romances are written). It is a combination of
eight- and six-syllabled lines arranged 8, 8, 6, 8, 8, 6, and rhymed
_aabccb_; the rhythm being regularly iambic, and the whole differing
in no respect from similar verse of the nineteenth century, and in
only one respect from such as Gray's "Cat" ode in the eighteenth. And
that one is priceless, for it is the appearance of substitution--the
great English characteristic which separates our verse from its French
patterns--if patterns they were--which the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries unwisely gave up, for which Shenstone pleaded,[57] and
which Chatterton, and Blake, and Southey, and Coleridge restored.
Monosyllabic and trisyllabic feet, as shown in the examples,[58] are
freely employed; and the result is that a double advantage is secured.
The actual shapelessness of one direct parent, the broken-down A.S.
versicle, is effectually cured: there is no possibility of mistaking
_this_ composition for prose. The possible monotony and sing-song of
the other--the regular syllabic French model, long afterwards parodied
and exposed immortally in Chaucer's _Sir Thopas_--is avoided likewise.
There is a little assonance, but for the most part quite regular and
satisfactory rhyme. There is effective correspondent rhythm, resulting
from feet clearly marked, but, as has been said, boldly handled in
the English, not the French or Low Latin manner. The stanza is well
kept, though the substitution prevents its being a mere mechanic
reproduction. In short, there is freedom, and there is order.
[Sidenote: The _Bestiary_.]
Not less worthy of study is the _Bestiary_.[59] Here the direct origins
are fortunately known and are of the utmost importance. The ultimate
one is the Latin of Thetbaldus in "Leonine" hexameters--that is to say,
hexameters with, in this case not very complete or regular, but still
unmistakable, rhyme at the cæsura and the end. This gives something of
a ready-made correspondence to the old A.S. line with its middle break,
and, at the same time, suggests rhyming halves. But there was also at
hand a _French_ bestiary by Philippe de Thaun, where the writer, taking
the other already established hexameter-trimeter of his own literature,
the Alexandrine, breaks _it_ into regular six-syllabled couplets. The
Englishman, whoever he was, endeavours to follow this arrangement, and
perhaps something more. He has got the six-syllable line and couplet in
his ear; he has got even a sort of notion of stanza in addition, and he
now and then hears rhyme. But he is a very rough verse-smith, in the
_Proverbs of Alfred_ stage or near it, and he is perpetually hitting
and missing cadences and constructions which were not to be perfected
for long, but half developed--queer creatures rearing themselves from
the earth like those in the old woodcuts of the Creation. He has more
variety than Layamon, and sometimes more music than the _Alfred_ man;
but with them he provides the great museum of examples of English verse
in the first stage of making.
[Sidenote: Minor poems.]
Every now and then, too, he provides us with something that is not
rough at all, as in the passage appended,[60] which is perfect
modern English rhythm and goes to a well-known carol tune. And of
this more perfect craftsmanship, in forms precise enough to bring
out the qualities and capacities of the new prosody, the minor and
miscellaneous poems of the thirteenth century supply ample and varied
instances. There is Romance-six, probably earlier than the _Proverbs
of Hendyng_; "fourteener" metre, more polished than that of the _Moral
Ode_; and, best of all, the beginning, in the _Love-Rune_,[61] of the
great alternately rhymed octosyllabic quatrain, the "long measure"
("common," or the split fourteener, was to be a little later) of
a myriad hymns and secular pieces since. This long measure is in
some ways more advanced than almost anything of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, displaying equivalence, admitting internal
rhyme[62]--prophesying, through Chatterton and Blake, the Great
Instauration of Coleridge, Southey, and Scott.
But we must complete this group by what are perhaps its most important,
though not its earliest members, the two great examples of the
octosyllabic line itself in its simplest couplet form. It may almost be
said that _Genesis and Exodus_ (the M.E. not the A.S. paraphrase) and
_The Owl and the Nightingale_ are sufficient between them to teach all
the main secrets of English prosody. They are certainly sufficient to
show what it is and what it is not.
[Sidenote: _The Owl and the Nightingale_ and _Genesis and Exodus_.]
We have seen how this couplet emerges in the _Brut_ of Layamon, and how
it there presents itself as a "transient and embarrassed" alternative
to mostly broken-down and shapeless pairs of something like the old
half-line. In the two poems just mentioned it is not transient, but
abides; nor is it in the least embarrassed. It has quite shaken off its
dilapidated companions, and abides in its own house. But that house is
a house of two wings or two fronts. The one which the author of _The
Owl and the Nightingale_ prefers approximates in its verse-building
to the French system of architecture, and is, if not rigidly uniform
in syllabic arrangement (and especially patient as the metre always
has been since of limitation to _seven_ with a consequent hint of
trochaic rhythm), yet almost rigidly iambic _or_ trochaic in run. The
other, of which _Genesis and Exodus_ is the main occupant, admits,
with the utmost freedom, that principle of trisyllabic (if not also
monosyllabic) equivalence into which the old liberty of Anglo-Saxon had
transformed itself under the sufficient but not tyrannical pressure
of the new foot prosody. And it presents an almost perfect specimen
of the metre which Spenser (whether intentionally or not) employed in
parts of the _Shepherd's Calendar_, and which Coleridge, more than 500
years later, believed himself to have invented, and explained in a very
insufficient manner.
[Sidenote: Summary of results to the mid-thirteenth century.]
It is upon the understanding which the student attains and upon the
interpretation which he makes or accepts of the group of pieces from
the _Brut_ to _Genesis and Exodus_, which have just been discussed,
that this student's whole conception of English prosody will depend.
Unfortunately, he will not find such authorities as have delivered
themselves on the subject by any means unanimous; more unfortunately
still, it must be said here, he will find most of them inadequate, and
not a few positively wrong. In another part of this book some account
of the more usual theories is given. It is enough to say here, that
neither the system which regards this verse as consisting of a certain
number of "stressed" syllables and a certain or uncertain number of
"unstressed," nor that which would regard some of it as following
old English, some new French models, appears to fit the actual facts
or explain their actual consequences. To assign the "equivalenced"
varieties to a northern, the "unequivalenced" to a southern origin,
may or may not be in accordance with historical and geographical fact,
but is prosodically irrelevant. To be content with discovering actual
or possible _particular_ foreign models for each metre may not be
useless (something on the subject will again be found elsewhere in
this volume), but will be inadequate, and may be misleading, if the
_general_ phenomena are not examined or if their lesson is not learnt.
It should not be hard to learn for any one who will patiently consider
the facts narrated in this chapter, the dates (as far as they are known
or guessed), and the scanned examples given in the text, the notes,
and the general survey. It will be strange if he does not perceive
that there is here something much more than a mere regularising of
accentual verse with the addition of rhyme, something much more than a
mere imitation of French and Latin models, like the frequent attempts
at English hexameters, or those at English ballades and rondeaux
which were revived some thirty years ago; above all, something not in
the least adequately described by the phrases "adopting the French
principles of prosody," "following the rhythm of the foreigner," and
so forth. If, as he should,[63] he possesses some knowledge of Latin
verse, classical and mediæval, some of French, a little (the more the
better) of Old English, and as much as possible of Modern; if he will
allow this knowledge to settle and clarify his observation of this
Middle English verse of the latest twelfth and the first half of the
thirteenth century, without allowing arbitrary theories of any kind
to interfere, it seems almost impossible that he can fail to see what
was going on. The prosody of English was changing from accent and
alliteration to feet and rhyme; but it was not following French, or the
general run of mediæval Latin, in adopting syllabic uniformity as a
rule; and it was, in a large number, if not the majority of instances,
allowing the substitution of equivalent feet (especially anapæsts for
iambs) exactly as some, but not all, classical metre had allowed it.
Another point with which the student cannot familiarise himself too
early, and one which he will find rarely or never insisted on in works
dealing with English prosody, is that this apparent irregularity of
foot arrangement brings out the existence, the importance, and, so to
speak, the _personality_ of the feet themselves, in a way impossible
of achievement when a uniform number of syllables is insisted on in a
line, and when "accent," "stress," or whatever the emphasising agent be
called or considered, is restricted wholly or as much as possible to
exactly corresponding places in that line. This monotony may sometimes
seem to soothe, but in reality only deadens the susceptibility of the
ear, and that ear comes to recognise only, if not only to demand, such
coarser stimulus as that given by strong and more or less uniform
centre-pause, as the sharp snap or clang of the concluding rhyme,
and as rhetorical, not strictly poetical, emphasis placed on special
points, especially by the aid of antithesis. On the other hand, the
slight effort necessary to recognise the unity of the equivalent feet,
under their diversity of substitution, demands and begets an active
sensitiveness, which very soon yields positive, keen, and varied
delight. No modern poetry can vie with English in the possession and
provision of this, and those who neglect it deprive themselves of one
of the greatest privileges of an Englishman.
But it is, of course, not contended that perfection in so difficult
and exquisite an accomplishment was, or could have been, attained at
once. The prosody, like the language, had to "make itself," to "grow,"
and, even more than the language, it had not merely to grow like a
vegetable, but to make itself by animated, if often unconscious,
efforts. Had things been otherwise it would have been far less
interesting. As it is, there is not one of the imperfect efforts which
have been briefly reviewed here that is not a "document in the case," a
step in the progress, a fresh attempt of the bird to chip the shell and
get clear of the fragments.
[Sidenote: The later thirteenth century and the fourteenth.]
These documents, speaking approximately, have brought us to, and
perhaps a little beyond, the middle of the thirteenth century.
Philologists and palæographers do not give us much as dating from the
latter part of that century, or at least from the third quarter of
it. But towards the close, and onwards to the supposed birth date of
Chaucer (1340), we have an ever-increasing mass of interesting material
continuing the demonstration just given. At an uncertain period (not
impossibly close to that birth itself) we find also a new phenomenon
of a general kind and of first-rate importance; and in the last half
or, say, the last third of the century we come, not only to Chaucer
himself, but to two other poets, lesser than himself as masters of
form, but by no means small in that respect, and contrasted with him in
it after a really marvellous fashion.
[Sidenote: Robert of Gloucester.]
We can give less individual attention to the first-named group of
documents; but as a matter of fact they require less, and sub-group
themselves. At the close of the thirteenth century we have a body of
verse, the whole of it sometimes ascribed by guess-work, part of it
ascribed with certainty, and yet more not without probability, to
Robert of Gloucester. This work, consisting of a _Chronicle_ and of
many _Saints' Lives_, is entirely written in fourteener (or, when there
is a final _e_, fifteener) couplets of the same general stamp as those
which we have seen in the _Moral Poem_, but differentiated from those
of the _Ormulum_ by the admission of equivalence. They are, however,
much more advanced than even the latest version of the _Poema Morale_;
and the writer, or writers, can make them into a capital narrative
vehicle, distinctly indicating, if not freely expressing, the further
resolution into the ballad metre of eight and six.
But this craving for narrative in verse did not confine itself to a
single vehicle; indeed, in probably a very great majority of instances,
it preferred another, or two others, with which we are also acquainted,
and further varieties still which we have not yet seen, but which
show, unmistakably, the advance in prosodic aptitude. The great body
of narrative verse, known as "the Romances," begins to date from the
end of the thirteenth century--a few, such as _Havelok_ and _Horn_, are
certainly earlier than the fourteenth; by the end of the first third,
if not of the first quarter, of this latter, a very large number were
as certainly in existence.
[Sidenote: The Romances.]
Now probably the whole of these Romances were more or less directly
imitated from French originals, nearly all of which we actually
possess; but it is extremely remarkable that they by no means always
followed the metre of those originals, and that when they did they
took considerable liberties with it. That metre was almost invariably
Alexandrine or decasyllabic, in long batches not couplets, or
octosyllabic in couplet. Of the two probably oldest of ours, _Havelok_
and _Horn_, the first does attempt this octosyllabic couplet, but
treats it in a very rough and independent fashion, something in the
_Genesis and Exodus_ line, while _King Horn_ seems to favour something
like what we observe in part of the English _Bestiary_ and the whole
of the French one--a split Alexandrine or six-syllabled couplet. Very
soon the _rime couée_ or Romance-six (which had not been a staple
romance-metre in French) appears, and occasionally more elaborate
stanzas still, such as the complicated arrangement of _Sir Tristrem_.
Those writers who prefer couplet improve upon _Horn_ and _Havelok_,
but they follow _Genesis and Exodus_ much more than _The Owl and the
Nightingale_.
Indeed, some of them develop this couplet in a manner possessing almost
infinite "future." They not merely follow the writer of _Genesis and
Exodus_ in substituting trisyllabic, if not also monosyllabic, feet
for dissyllabic to the number of _four_, but some of them develop
hints, which may be found in that composition, by extending the actual
foot-length of the line to _five_, and sometimes repeating this in an
actual "heroic" pair. Whether this was in some, or even at first in
all, cases accidental, does not really matter. The decasyllable or
five-foot line was already existent in great masses of French poetry,
though not in single couplets; it was natural that, occasionally, more
room should be wanted than the octosyllable provides; and there is the
undoubted fact that, in more than one other European language, ten, or
according to the structure of the particular tongue, eleven syllables
were suggesting themselves as the most convenient size. The fourteener
was so long as to invite breaking up quite early; the Alexandrine
has never naturalised itself for continuous use in English; and the
octosyllable, though its early appearance, the wealth of models for
it, and its ease, fostered and sustained it, had the already mentioned
drawback of lack of _content_. It was certain that, in a language which
was showing itself so fortunately free from hide-bound qualities,
the decasyllable would establish itself. It has been usual to say
that, in couplet at any rate, Chaucer "took it from the French." As
a matter of actual practice he may have done so; but in the order of
nature and thought it was not in the least necessary for him to do it.
Indeed, it would be almost literally true[64] to say that English had
decasyllabic couplet before French--that it was an English invention.
[Sidenote: Lyrics.]
For the time, however, the octosyllable was the staple for narrative,
varied to no mean extent by the stanzas already described; while these
stanzas, often of the most elaborate and complicated descriptions,
were adopted from French (and perhaps Provençal) or extemporised
by the taste and fancy of the writers. One famous collection[65]
indicates the school of which our poets were scholars by alternating
French poems with English. But this very collection shows amply that
these same writers refused to undergo the syllabic constraints of
French, and held to what were to be always the real, if frequently the
unrecognised and sometimes the denied, principles of the New English
in verse--that is to say, the constitution of the line by feet, _not_
syllables--and the consequent possibility of obtaining equivalent lines
by the substitution of feet, varying in syllabic constituence, but
interchangeable in metrical value. Some examples of all these things
will be found in the Scanned Conspectus; the student should search the
books named in the notes for more, which he will find in the fullest
abundance. What is important is that by this study he may and should
discover the real and too commonly misunderstood relation of Chaucer to
precedent English verse.
There is, however, another fact of the fourteenth century which it is
not less important for him to recognise, and which also has been too
often misunderstood, or at least not put in its proper place. This is
the revival of alliterative-accentual verse.
[Sidenote: The alliterative revival.]
As there are few things, in treating prosody, of greater weight than to
keep carefully before the student the difference between controversial
and uncontroversial points, it should be said at once that "revival" is
not quite one of the latter. There have been some who have taken it
for granted that the alliterative-accentual form _never_ ceased out of
the land. It may be so; there is even a sort of antecedent plausibility
about the notion. But the important historical fact is that no such
verse apparently exists of a probable date between about 1250 (the
later form of Layamon itself, much further encroached upon by metre
and rhyme) and about 1350. Somewhere about this latter time it does
reappear; and before very long has its chief pure representative in
Langland, at the same time as metre has _its_ chief pure representative
in Chaucer.
But this reappearance is conditioned and qualified by a very remarkable
fact. There is, as has just been said, pure alliterative verse. It
is not, indeed, an exact representation of the old A.S. line. It is
somewhat longer than the shorter forms of that line, and very much
shorter than the "extended" variety. In some cases, especially in the
later examples, the alliteration is richer, extending to four, five,
or even six syllables. Most noteworthy of all is the substitution, in
the general rhythmical run, of anapæstic-iambic for trochaic basis--a
fact the importance of which, in the general history of the morphology
of English poetry and of the change from A.S. to M.E., cannot be
exaggerated.
But it is also worthy of the most careful remark that, in a relatively
large number of instances, the alliterative-accentual system is
apparently unable to rely upon itself. It is tempted or driven to
borrow metre, or rhyme, or both. Of the two best pieces in the
alliterative division, outside _Piers Plowman_, _Gawain and the Green
Knight_ combines, with an unrhymed body or _tirade_, a rhymed "bob and
wheel" in every stanza; while _The Pearl_, though alliterated almost to
the highest possible strength, is strictly metrical and strictly rhymed
throughout. Others form their stanzas of lines roughly rhythmed but
fairly well rhymed.
[Sidenote: The later fourteenth century.]
By the last quarter of the fourteenth century, therefore, there were
in England two contrasted and in a way rival, but, as has been said,
overlapping, systems of versification: one a sort of atavistic
revival, the other the result of a process--_two_ centuries old to a
certainty, and probably nearer _four_--of blending the characteristics
of Low Latin and French prosody with those of Old English.
In the three chief poets of the later fourteenth century (Chaucer,
Gower, and Langland) we have three object lessons as to the results
of this process, which could not have been improved if the course
of events had been exclusively devoted to the task of making these
results, and the process itself, clear to the student. They had best be
taken in reverse order.
[Sidenote: Langland.]
Langland represents, in the greatest perfection that can reasonably
be expected, the attempt to preserve, or revert to, verse arranged
without rhyme, without metre in the strict sense, and depending for
its separation from prose upon alliteration, accent, and strong middle
pause. In spite of himself, and in consequence of the state of the
language, actually metrical lines--decasyllables, Alexandrines, and
fourteeners--do appear; but, as a rule, he avoids them either with
singular skill or with remarkable luck, and on the whole achieves
a consistent medium, not so much dominated as permeated by a sort
of anapæstic underhum of rhythm, but otherwise maintaining its
independence. Being possessed of great literary and even distinctly
poetical genius, he makes it a by no means unsuitable vehicle for
his tangle of apocalyptic dreams, and no ill one for the occasional
passages of a more mundane description which he interlards. But it is
deficient in beauty, if not in vigour; it is clearly unsuited for many
of the subjects of poetry; and to any one acquainted with metre and
rhyme it constantly suggests the question and complaint, "_Why_ are we
to be deprived of these already-won beauties and conveniences, and cut
off with this rough makeshift?"
[Sidenote: Gower.]
As Langland represents the purely accentual division or phase of
English prosody at this time, so does Gower represent the almost
purely syllabic. He uses, with insignificant exceptions,[66] the old
octosyllabic couplet; but he comes closer than any other English
writer of the Middle English period to the strict French model. He
does not, like his forerunners, and like even Chaucer, allow himself
the seven-syllable line as a variation; and though he does, by the
admission of those who are opposed to the system of this book,
occasionally admit an "extrametrical syllable," and, according to that
system, much oftener a trisyllabic foot, this interferes little with
the general uniformity of his verse-run. Almost the only variations
that he relies upon are frequent initial trochees an occasional
balanced arrangement of the halves of the line--
The cloth was laid, the board was set--
contrasted with less strongly marked pauses, and especially a device
whereby a full stop comes at the first line of two couplets separated
by another, so that a sort of _In Memoriam_ quatrain effect, with first
and last lines blank, is obtained, as thus:
Hew down this tree and let it fall,
The leavès let defoul in haste,
And do the fruit destroy and waste,
And let offshredden every branch.
To this the present writer would add distinct trisyllabic feet where
others see slur, as in--
The weath|er was mer|ry and fair | enough.
The result, especially with syncopation of these trisyllables, is what
some call "pre-eminent smoothness" of metre, others dominant monotony.
The metre had proved itself of old well suited for actual narrative,
and, as Gower can tell a story, when he has a good one to tell, the
effect, as in the passages about Nebuchadnezzar, Medea, Ceyx and
Alcyone, Rosiphelè, the "Trump of Death," and other persons and things,
is quite excellent. But in the didactic and conversational parts it is
often terribly tedious and lamentably limp.
[Sidenote: Chaucer.]
Thus Langland, from yet another point of view, represents the rejection
of the new English prosody altogether or as far as possible, and Gower,
the timid imitation of French. Chaucer, on the other hand, despite his
undoubted attention to French and Italian models, is in the direct line
which we have been tracing, and represents, if not completely, yet to
a very large extent, at once the development and the perfecting of the
processes which we have described. It has indeed been urged by some
that Chaucer probably knew nothing, or very little, of _English_ poetry
before his own day. But while, on the one hand, this is quite unproven,
and not a little improbable, those who urge it do not seem to see that,
even if it were so, it is comparatively irrelevant. It is not in the
least necessary to suppose that Chaucer must have borrowed the Vernon
MS. or another like it, carried it home to the rooms above Aldgate,
"stirred the fire and taken a drink" as Henryson did later with his
own _Troilus_, and then, after discussing to himself principles of
versification, have decided that this was to be followed, that to be
avoided, that again to be perfected and carried further. The main and
undoubted facts remain that Chaucer was an Englishman of 1340(?)-1400;
that he was the greatest Englishman of letters of his time; that he
spoke and wrote the English language, and that thus, by what he would
himself have called "the law of kind," he entered into the inheritance
of all that had been done in this English matter by Englishmen for
generations beforehand. As a matter of fact, there is plenty of
evidence destructive of the contention referred to. He had read the
Romances, or he could not have written _Sir Thopas_; he knew the
alliterative poems, or he could not have made the famous reference to
_rum ram ruf_ in the Prologue to the _Parson's Tale_, which Gascoigne
caught up. It is odd if he had not heard (even if he had not read) the
plays that folk like his own Absolon played "upon a scaffold high."
But, as has been said, it does not matter.
[Sidenote: His perfecting of M.E. verse.]
For his work is there, and it is incontestably--whatever its author
had read or not read--the logical and biological continuation
and perfecting of all that had gone before from Godric and the
_Paternoster_. He begins with the fluent octosyllable and the melodious
and usefully stringent rhyme-royal, as well as other more or less
elaborate stanzas. He communicates to the couplet[67] a greater
combination of order and variety than it had ever known in English;
he makes of the stanza,[68] in the case of rhyme-royal, the most
perfect formal arrangement of verse that English had yet seen. Later
he takes up,[69] very probably because he had written so many separate
examples of it in rhyme-royal itself at the close of each stanza, the
_decasyllabic_ couplet, and makes of that something greater still--a
metrical instrument or vehicle escaping at once the scanty content and
slightly insignificant bearing of the octosyllable, the elaborateness
and rather melancholy quality of rhyme-royal. In doing this it is
inevitable that, as Spenser did in parallel case afterwards, he should
lean rather towards precision than towards great laxity and luxuriance
of form; for things needed order. But he sets the example of that
variation of pause in rhyme-royal which was fortunately taken as a
rule, and which preserved for English one of the very greatest means
of metrical achievement. In the octosyllable he reproduced knowingly,
and with definite apology, that "failing of a syllable" which gives
acephalous or trochaic alternation, and which all the greatest masters
of the metre, except (following Gower) William Morris, have imitated.
And he broke up the lines very largely by conversation-fragments, by
putting full stops at the end of the first line of a couplet, and by
making a whole paragraph end at the same place.
[Sidenote: Details of his prosody.]
But next to his provision of a perfectly finished stanza--in other
words, of a complete, and _pro tanto_ final, prosodic result--in
rhyme-royal, the most important thing done by Chaucer in this
department was the arranging and setting on foot of the decasyllabic
couplet, which he began well in the _Legend of Good Women_, but carried
on much better in the _Canterbury Tales_. Not half of his actual
achievement here, and a very much smaller part of his promise and
stimulus for the future, can be perceived by those who limit him to
the decasyllable as such by devices of elision and syncope; still less
by those who would have his varieties of line exactly to represent
variations of the French decasyllable. The former proceeding is
inadequate and defacing; the latter practically impossible, except as a
bare and barren matter of arithmetic. You cannot imitate the prosodic
effect of one language in another, even though you take the exact
number of syllables and (as far as you can) divide the words, arrange
the accents, etc., with the most slavish copying. The result will laugh
at you prosodically; and while it is very unlikely to give you anything
similar, it is nearly certain to give you something quite different.[70]
When Chaucer's verse in "heroic" or "riding rhyme" is examined,
simply on its own merits and without regard to arbitrary theories of
pronunciation, but with all necessary remembrance of the value of the
final _e_, etc., it is seen to follow, in every respect, the general
principles which we have seen evolving themselves in all English
poetry hitherto, subject only to the general reforming or regimenting
tendency which has been noticed. The normal line is beyond all question
five-foot iambic, or decasyllabic with short and long syllable
alternately. But there are a few instances[71] of so-called acephalous
lines where the first syllable seems to have been missed--where, at any
rate, there are only nine to account for, and where you consequently
have to choose between a monosyllabic foot in the first place or
trochaic cadence throughout. There is little doubt in the mind of the
present writer that if these lines (which, after all, are very few)
were deliberately written and meant to be kept, the reason of their
existence was a false analogy with the octosyllable, where, as we have
said, such acephalous lines, trochaic and heptasyllabic, do occur,
and where they produce not only no ill, but a positively good effect.
Unluckily the cutting down does _not_ produce a good effect in the
larger couplet; and if trochaic rhythm is permitted--in other words,
if the missing syllable is shifted from the beginning to the end--it
produces a very bad one. But they are, as has been said, in very small
proportion, though there are too many of them to be simply "mended" out
of existence.
Proceeding, we find, in a far larger number of instances, not a defect
but an excess of syllables. As far as these syllables are found at
the end of the line (in great measure caused by the final _e_) there
is no difficulty and no dispute about them. They are allowed by
everybody; and they come under that general law of almost (not quite)
all prosodies which makes the final place of a line one of liberty.
But it is different with those which come _within_ the line, and with
apparent extensions beyond the eleventh syllable. Many, perhaps most,
prosodists would shut their eyes to the latter, regarding them as
mere extra-redundances, and explain away those which occur within the
line by elision before a vowel, by syncope or crasis or the like (see
Glossary) when they come before a consonant.
To the present writer these devices and shifts appear unnecessary,
discordant, the reverse of natural, and alike the consequence and the
cause of prosodic error. With regard to _hiatus_ (_i.e._ the actual
contact of vowels) it has to be fully admitted that there is a strong
tendency in MSS. to sink one of them and to write not merely "tharray"
for "the array," but even "in thalyghte" for "in thee alyghte." The
habit continued for a long time, and we find even in Wyatt and Surrey
"tembrace" for "to embrace" and so forth. But it is important to
observe first that this habit is not constant, as we should expect
it to be if it represented a definite and reasoned wish always to
reduce two such syllables to one; and further, that it will not affect
the other cases of syllables, such as the last of "Heav_e_n" (which,
however, pretty certainly _was_ monosyllabic at this time and later),
"ev_e_r" the _-eth_ of the third person singular and plural, _y_ in
"many a," _i-_ in scores of words, and the like.
To the present writer, once more, it is certain, and even indisputable,
that whether Chaucer deliberately used trisyllabic feet or not, there
are trisyllabic feet by nature and poetic right in Chaucer, for any one
who chooses them. And he is of opinion, though not so strongly, that
Chaucer allowed himself an occasional Alexandrine or twelve-syllabled
line,[72] just as preceding writers had allowed themselves occasional
ten-syllabled lines in octosyllabics. What is once more certain,
and almost indisputable, is that his lines can be so scanned with
euphonious effect, and that similar phenomena manifest themselves all
the way up to his time.
Of his rhymes nothing necessarily need be said here. He often avails
himself for rhyme, as well as for rhythm, of the choice between
Teutonic and Romance accent--the former always seeking the beginning of
the word, the latter generally the end. This was hardly even a licence
at his period.
One much-vexed point it is, however, impossible to omit, though far
more, in every sense, has been made of it than it is worth. It occurred
many years ago to a distinguished scholar, the late Mr. Bradshaw of
Cambridge, to make a test out of the rhyme of y and ye, which, he
thought (despite a famous example in _Sir Thopas_[73]), never occurs in
the work unquestionably Chaucer's. To the present writer the occurrence
of the rhyme in _Sir Thopas_ closes the question, and he would have
much to say against the establishment of the test, even if _Sir Thopas_
were acknowledged as not Chaucerian. But from the strict point of
view of this book the whole thing is really irrelevant. It does not
matter to us _who_ wrote certain pieces of English poetry, but what
the characteristics of those and other pieces of English poetry are.
The student of prosody may and should note that in some pieces of this
period the rhyme of _y_ and _ye_ certainly does occur, that in others
it apparently does not; but beyond this he need not, and, as a student
of prosody, should not, go.
FOOTNOTES:
[49] Running illustrations of the following chapters will be found
in the preceding Scanned Conspectus, but additional ones will be
supplied in notes when necessary. It may not be superfluous to call the
student's special attention to this chapter. All correct appreciation
of English prosody depends upon the facts contained in it; and while
the ignoring or mistaking of these facts is fatal, it has unfortunately
been too common.
[50]
Werig winneth: widsith onginneth
Sar ne sinneth: sorgum cinnith
Blæd his blumith: blisse linnath
Listum linneth: lastum ne linneth.
[51] _V. sup._ Scanned Survey II.
[52] _V. sup._ Scanned Survey III.
[53]
Merie sungen the muneches binnen Ely
Tha Cnut ching rew therby.
Roweth cnihtes neer the land
And here we thes muneches sang.
[54]
Vre feder thet in heouene is,
That is al soothful iwis.
Wee moten to theos weordes iseon
Thet to liue and to saule gode beon.
Thet weo beon swa his sunes iborene
Thet he beo feder and we him icorene
Thet we don alle his ibeden
And his wille for to reden.
[55] In doubling the consonant after a short vowel-sound.
[56] Examples of all this will be found in the Scanned Survey and in
the Glossaries and Form-lists of Book IV.
[57] For more on all this see Scanned Conspectus and next Book.
[58]
Thus queth Alured.
Wis childe is fader blisse.
If hit so bi-tideth
that thu bern ibidest,
the hwile hit is lutel
ler him mon-thewes
than hit is wexynde;
hit schal wende thar to.
the betere hit schal iwurthe
euer buuen eorthe,
ac if thu him lest welde
werende on worlde
lude and stille
his owene wille.
Mon that wol of wysdam heren,
At wyse Hendyng he may lernen,
That wes Marcolues sone;
Gode thonkes and monie thewes
Forte teche fele shrewes;
For that wes ever is wone.
. . . . . . .
Wis mon halt is wordes ynne,
For he nul no gle begynne
Er he have tempted is pype.
Sot is sot, and that is sene,
For he wol speke wordes grene
Er then hue buen rype,
"Sottes bolt is sone shote,"
Quoth Hendyng.
[59] _Latin._
Nam leo stans fortis super alta cacumina montis,
Qualicunque via vallis descendit ad ima,
Si venatorem per notum sentit odorem,
Cauda cuncta linit quae pes vestigia figit.
_French._
Uncore dit Escripture
Leuns ad tele nature,
Quant l'om le vait chazant,
De sa cue en fuiant
Desfait sa trace en terre,
Que hom ne l' sace querre;
Ceo est grant signefiance,
Aiez en remembrance.
_English._
The leun stant on hille,
And he man hunten here,
Other thurg his nese smel
Smake that he negge,
Bi wile weie so he wile
To dele nither wenden,
Alle hise fet-steppes
After him he filleth,
Drageth dust with his stert
Ther he [dun] steppeth,
Other dust other deu,
That he ne cunne is finden,
Driueth dun to his den
Thar he him bergen wille.
[60]
All is man so is this erne [eagle],
Would[è] ye now listen,
Old in his[è] sinn[e]s derne [dark],
Or he becometh Christen.
The spelling is designedly modernised, but very slightly.
[61]
Maid[è] here thou mightst behold
This world[è]s love is but o res [a race],
And is beset so fele-vold [manifoldly],
Fick|le and frack|le [frail] and wok | and les [weak and false].
[62]
Und|er mould | they li|eth [plural] cold
And fal|loweth [groweth yellow] as | doth mead|ow grass.
[63] It is sometimes asked by persons who should know better, "What
has _English_ prosody to do with these mostly un-English things?"
The answer is simple--that these un-English things went largely, and
essentially, to the making of English prosody.
[64] The poem commonly reputed as the oldest in French, _St. Eulalia_,
is in something very like it, but was not followed up.
[65] MS. Harl. 2253. Published by Thomas Wright for the Percy Society
(London, 1847) as _Specimens of Lyric Poetry_.
[66] The rhyme-royal decasyllables of the "Supplication," or "Letter to
Venus and Cupid," at the close of the _Confessio_, and of the poem "In
Praise of Peace."
[67] In the disputed _Romance of the Rose_, and the undisputed _Death
of Blanche_, and the somewhat later _House of Fame_.
[68] The _Parliament of Fowls_, _Troilus and Criseyde_, etc.
[69] First in the _Legend of Good Women_ and then in the _Canterbury
Tales_.
[70] These words are written, not merely on general principles, but
from long and extensive knowledge of French fourteenth-century poetry.
[71] Such as the well-known
Twen|ty ¦ bok|ès ¦ clad | in ¦ black | or ¦ red
of the Oxford clerk.
[72]
Westward | right swich, | ano|ther in | the op|posite.
(_Knight's Tale_, 1036.)
And said, | O deer|e housbond|e, be|nedi|citee!
(_Wife of Bath's Tale_, 231.)
Doth so | his ce|rimo|nies and | obei|saunces,
And ke|peth in | semblant | all his | obser|vaunces.
(_Squire's Tale_, 515, 516.)
[73] "Sir Guy," which cannot have an _e_, and "chivalrye," which must
have one.