The more regular four-stress verse, in rimed couplets showing a tendency
to be octosyllabic, we have seen to be generally attributed to the
influence of the French octosyllabics, which were in common use in late
mediæval French poetry, such as that of Wace and Chrestien de Troyes.
According to Stengel (in Gröber's _Grundriss der Romanischen
Philologie_), this octosyllabic French verse goes back to a lost
vulgar Latin verse; this view is opposed by Dr. C. M. Lewis, in his
_Foreign Sources of Modern English Versification_ (Yale Studies in
English, 1898), who finds its origin in the tetrameter of the Latin
hymns. Dr. Lewis also attributes to this Latin verse more direct
influence on English verse than is commonly assumed. Thus he finds
in it, rather than in the French octosyllabics, the model of the
verse of the _Pater Noster_, quoted below. The argument is briefly
this: the Latin verse was both accentual and syllabic; the French
verse was syllabic but not accentual; that of the _Pater Noster_ is
accentual but not syllabic; hence it is more nearly like the Latin
than the French. A stanza of the Latin tetrameter, cited by Dr.
Lewis from the hymn _Aurora lucis rutilat_, is as follows:
"Tristes erat apostoli
de nece sui Domini,
quem p[oe]na mortis crudeli
servi damnarunt impii."
Compare these lines from the _Brut_ of Wace:
"Adunt apela Cordeille
qui esteit sa plus joes ne fille;
pur ce que il l'aveit plus chiere
que Ragaü ne la premiere
quida que el e cuneüst
que plus chier des al tres l'eüst.
Cordeil le out bien escuté
et bien out en sun cuer noté
cument ses deus sorurs parloënt,
cument lur pere losengoënt."
The last four verses of this passage are cited by Schipper as
illustrating the regular iambic character of the French
octosyllabics; but Dr. Lewis regards the measure as purely
syllabic, with no regard for alternation of accents, and instances
the earlier lines of the passage as being quite as nearly anapestic
as iambic. (See Schipper, vol. i. p. 107, and Lewis's monograph, as
cited above, pp. 73 ff. See also Crow: _Zur Geschichte des Kurzen
Reimpaares in Mittel Englisch._) Dr. Lewis's conclusion is: "We may
therefore sum up the whole history of our octosyllabic verse in
this way: we borrowed its number of accents from the Latin, but
owing to the vitality of our own native traditions we at first
borrowed nothing further; the syllabic character of the verse (so
far as it has been imported at all), came in only gradually,
against stubborn resistance; and it came not directly from the
Latin, but indirectly, through the French" (pp. 97, 98). Some of
these statements are open to question; but however we may interpret
the French verse of Wace and his contemporaries, it is obvious that
in English the influence of the Latin and the French poetry would
very naturally be fused, with no necessarily clear conception of
definite verse-structure. Whether under French or Latin influence,
however, the new tendency was for the more accurate counting of
syllables. We may see some suggestion of this in the verses of St.
Godric, quoted on p. 126, above, although they are not regularly
iambic. The poem on the "Eleven Pains of Hell" (in the _Old English
Miscellany_) shows the French influence clearly marked by the
language of its opening verses:
"Ici comencent les unze peynes
De enfern, les queus seynt pool v[ist]."
Ure feder þet in heovene is,
Þet is al soþ ful iwis!
Weo moten to theor weordes iseon,
Þet to live and to saule gode beon,
Þet weo beon swa his sunes iborene,
Þet he beo feder and we him icorene,
Þet we don alle his ibeden
And his wille for to reden.
(_The Pater Noster_, ab. 1175. In Morris's _Old English Homilies_, p.
55.)
This poem is sometimes said to show the first appearance of the
octosyllabic couplet in English. It suggests the struggle between native
indifference to syllable-counting and imitation of the greater
regularity of its models. As Dr. Morris says of the next specimen: "The
essence of the system of versification which the poet has adopted is,
briefly, that every line shall have four accented syllables in it, the
unaccented syllables being left in some measure, as it were, to take
care of themselves." But this does not altogether do justice to the new
regularity. Schipper says that of the first 100 lines of the poem 20 are
perfectly regular. (See his notes in vol. i. p. 109.) In the following
specimens we may trace the gradual growth of skill and accuracy.
ðo herde Abraham stevene fro gode,
newe tiding and selkuð bode:
'tac ðin sune Ysaac in hond
and far wið him to siðhinges lond.
and ðor ða salt him offren me,
on an hil, ðor ic sal taunen ðe.
(_Genesis and Exodus_, ll. 1285-1290. ab. 1250-1300.)
"Abid! abid!" the ule seide.
"Thu gest al to mid swikelede;
All thine wordes thu bi-leist,
That hit thincth soth al that thu seist;
Alle thine wordes both i-sliked,
An so bi-semed and bi-liked,
That alle tho that hi avoth,
Hi weneth that thu segge soth."
(_The Owl and the Nightingale_, ll. 835-842. Thirteenth century.)
Quhen þis wes said, þai went þare way,
and till þe toun soyn cumin ar thai
sa prevely bot noys making,
þat nane persavit þair cummyng.
þai scalit throu þe toune in hy
and brak up dures sturdely
and slew all, þat þai mycht ourtak;
and þai, þat na defens mycht mak,
fall pitwisly couth rair and cry,
and þai slew þame dispitwisly.
(BARBOUR: _Bruce_, v. 89-98. ab. 1375.)
[Gh]yf þou ever þurghe folye
Dydyst ou[gh]t do nygromauncye.
Or to the devyl dedyst sacryfyse
þurghe wychcraftys asyse,
Or any man [gh]af þe mede
For to reyse þe devyl yn dede,
For to telle, or for to wrey,
þynge þat was don awey;
[gh]yf þou have do any of þys,
þou hast synnede and do a mys,
And þou art wurþy to be shent
þurghe þys yche commaundement.[18]
(ROBERT MANNING of Brunne: _Handlyng Synne_, ll. 339-350. ab. 1300.)
Herknet to me, gode men,
Wives, maydnes, and alle men,
Of a tale þat ich you wile telle,
Wo so it wile here, and þer-to duelle.
Þe tale is of Havelok i-maked;
Wil he was litel he yede ful naked:
Havelok was a ful god gome,
He was ful god in everi trome,
He was þe wicteste man at nede,
Þat þurte riden on ani stede.
Þat ye mowen nou y-here,
And þe tale ye mowen y-lere.
At the beginning of ure tale,
Fil me a cuppe of ful god ale;
And y wile drinken her y spelle,
Þat Crist us shilde alle fro helle!
(_Lay of Havelok the Dane._ ll. 1-16. ab. 1300.)
For lays and romances, both French and English, the four-stress couplet
was an easy and favorite form. Compare the remarks of ten Brink: "We see
how the short couplet, which is the standing form of the court-romance,
was not only transmitted to it from the legendary, didactic, and
historical poems, but was also suggested to it by those songs to which
it was indebted for its own subject-matter. Other tokens indicate that a
short strophe composed of eight-syllabled lines, with single or
alternating rhymes, was a favorite form for many subjects in this
_jongleur_ poetry.... The simple form of the short couplet offered to
the romance-poet no scope to compete in metrical technique with the
skilled court-lyrists. He could prove his art only within a limited
portion of this field: in the treatment of the _enjambement_ and
particularly of rhyme. The poet strove not only to form pure rhymes, but
often to carry them forward with more syllables than were essential, and
he was fond of all sorts of grammatical devices in rhyme." (_English
Literature_, Kennedy trans., vol. i. pp. 174, 175.)
The world stant ever upon debate,
So may be siker none estate;
Now here, now there, now to, now fro,
Now up, now down, the world goth so,
And ever hath done and ever shal;
Wherof I finde in special
A tale writen in the bible,
Which must nedes be credible,
And that as in conclusion
Saith, that upon division
Stant, why no worldes thing may laste,
Til it be drive to the laste,
And fro the firste regne of all
Unto this day how so befall
Of that the regnes be mevable,
The man him self hath be coupable,
Whiche of his propre governaunce
Fortuneth al the worldes chaunce.
(JOHN GOWER: Prologue to _Confessio Amantis_. Ed. PAULI, vol. i. pp. 22,
23. ab. 1390.)
O god of science and of light,
Apollo, through thy grete might,
This litel laste bok thou gye!
Nat that I wilne, for maistrye,
Here art poetical be shewed;
But, for the rym is light and lewed,
Yit make hit sumwhat agreable,
Though som vers faile in a sillable;
And that I do no diligence
To shewe craft, but o sentence.
And if, divyne vertu, thou
Wilt helpe me to shewe now
That in myn hede y-marked is--
Lo, that is for to menen this,
The Hous of Fame to descryve--
Thou shalt see me go, as blyve,
Unto the nexte laure I see,
And kisse hit, for hit is thy tree.
(CHAUCER: _House of Fame_, ll. 1091-1108. ab. 1385.)
It was Gower and Chaucer, in the fourteenth century, who brought the use
of the eight-syllable couplet to the point of accuracy and perfection.
Gower made it the vehicle of the interminable narrative of the
_Confessio Amantis_, using it with regularity but with great monotony.
Chaucer transformed it into a much more flexible form (with freedom of
cesura, _enjambement_, and inversions), using it in about 3500 lines of
his poetry (excluding the translation of the _Roman de la Rose_), but
early leaving it for the decasyllabic verse. In modern English poetry
this short couplet has rarely been used for continuous narrative of a
serious character, except by Byron and Wordsworth.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the studious cloister's pale,
And love the high embowed roof,
With antique pillars massy proof,
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
There let the pealing organ blow,
To the full-voiced choir below,
In service high, and anthems clear,
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me into ecstasies,
And bring all heaven before my eyes.
(MILTON: _Il Penseroso_, ll. 155-166. 1634.)
A sect whose chief devotion lies
In odd, perverse antipathies,
In falling out with that or this
And finding something still amiss;
More peevish, cross, and splenetic
Than dog distract or monkey sick:
That with more care keep holyday
The wrong, than others the right way;
Compound for sins they are inclined to
By damning those they have no mind to....
Rather than fail they will defy
That which they love most tenderly;
Quarrel with mince-pies, and disparage
Their best and dearest friend plum-porridge,
Fat pig and goose itself oppose,
And blaspheme custard through the nose.
(SAMUEL BUTLER: _Hudibras_, Part I. 1663.)
Butler made the octosyllabic couplet so entirely his own, for the
purposes of his jogging satiric verse, that ever since it has frequently
been called "Hudibrastic." The ingenuity of his rimes added not a little
to its effectiveness. In the _Spectator_ (No. 249) Addison said that
burlesque poetry runs best "in doggrel like that of _Hudibras_, ... when
a hero is to be pulled down and degraded;" otherwise in the heroic
measure. He speaks also of "the generality" of Butler's readers as being
"wonderfully pleased with the double rhymes."
How deep yon azure dyes the sky,
Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie,
While through their ranks in silver pride
The nether crescent seems to glide!
The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe,
The lake is smooth and clear beneath,
Where once again the spangled show
Descends to meet our eyes below.
The grounds which on the right aspire,
In dimness from the view retire:
The left presents a place of graves,
Whose wall the silent water laves.
That steeple guides thy doubtful sight
Among the livid gleams of night.
There pass, with melancholy state,
By all the solemn heaps of fate,
And think, as softly-sad you tread
Above the venerable dead,
'Time was, like thee they life possest,
And time shalt be, that thou shalt rest.'
(THOMAS PARNELL: _A Night-Piece on Death_, ab. 1715.)
Mr. Gosse speaks of Parnell's employment of the octosyllabic couplet in
this poem as "wonderfully subtle and harmonious." (_Eighteenth Century
Literature_, p. 137.)
A Hare who, in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.
Her care was never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.
As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies:
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round:
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear she gasping lay.
(JOHN GAY: _The Hare and Many Friends_, in _Fables_. 1727.)
Gay's use of the short couplet in his _Fables_ sometimes shows it at its
best for narrative purposes.
My female friends, whose tender hearts
Have better learned to act their parts,
Receive the news in doleful dumps:
'The Dean is dead: (Pray what is trumps?)
Then, Lord have mercy on his soul!
(Ladies, I'll venture for the vole.)
Six Deans, they say, must bear the pall:
(I wish I knew what king to call).
Madam, your husband will attend
The funeral of so good a friend?
No, madam, 'tis a shocking sight:
And he's engaged to-morrow night:
My Lady Club will take it ill,
If he should fail her at quadrille.
He loved the Dean--(I lead a heart)
But dearest friends, they say, must part.
His time was come: he ran his race;
We hope he's in a better place.'
(SWIFT: _On the Death of Dr. Swift._ 1731.)
Swift made use of the octosyllabic couplet in nearly all his verse, and
with no little vigor and originality. Mr. Gosse remarks: "His lines fall
like well-directed blows of the flail, and he gives the octosyllabic
measure, which he is accustomed to choose on account of the Hudibrastic
opportunities it offers, a character which is entirely his own."
(_Eighteenth Century Literature_, p. 153.)
Ye forms divine, ye laureat band,
That near her inmost altar stand!
Now soothe her to her blissful train
Blithe concord's social form to gain;
Concord, whose myrtle wand can steep
Even anger's bloodshot eyes in sleep;
Before whose breathing bosom's balm
Rage drops his steel, and storms grow calm;
Her let our sires and matrons hoar
Welcome to Britain's ravaged shore;
Our youths, enamored of the fair,
Play with the tangles of her hair,
Till, in one loud applauding sound,
The nations shout to her around,--
O how supremely thou art blest,
Thou, lady, thou shalt rule the West!
(COLLINS: _Ode to Liberty._ 1746.)
When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neibors, neibors meet;
As market days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate,
While we sit bousing at the nappy,
An' getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.
(BURNS: _Tam O'Shanter_, ll. 1-12. 1790.)
They chain'd us each to a column stone,
And we were three--yet, each alone;
We could not move a single pace,
We could not see each other's face,
But with that pale and livid light
That made us strangers in our sight:
And thus together--yet apart,
Fetter'd in hand, but joined in heart,
'Twas still some solace, in the dearth
Of the pure elements of earth,
To hearken to each other's speech,
And each turn comforter to each,
With some new hope, or legend old,
Or song heroically bold.
(BYRON: _The Prisoner of Chillon_, iii. 1816.)
A mortal song we sing, by dower
Encouraged of celestial power;
Power which the viewless Spirit shed
By whom we first were visited;
Whose voice we heard, whose hand and wings
Swept like a breeze the conscious strings,
When, left in solitude, erewhile
We stood before this ruined Pile,
And, quitting unsubstantial dreams,
Sang in this Presence kindred themes.
(WORDSWORTH: _White Doe of Rylstone_, canto vii. ll. 282-291. 1815.)
Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,
That on the field his targe he threw,
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
Had death so often dash'd aside;
For, train'd abroad his arms to wield,
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield....
Three times in closing strife they stood,
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood;
No stinted draught, no scanty tide,
The gushing flood the tartans dyed.
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain,
And shower'd his blows like wintry rain;
And, as firm rock, or castle-roof,
Against the winter shower is proof,
The foe, invulnerable still,
Foil'd his wild rage by steady skill;
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand,
And backward borne upon the lea,
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee.
(SCOTT: _The Lady of the Lake_, canto v. st. xv. 1810.)
How this their joy fulfilled might move
The world around I know not well;
But yet this idle dream doth tell
That no more silent was the place,
That new joy lit up every face,
That joyous lovers kissed and clung,
E'en as these twain, that songs were sung
From mouth to mouth in rose-bowers,
Where hand in hand and crowned with flowers,
Folk praised the Lover and Beloved
That such long years, such pain had proved;
But soft, they say, their joyance was
When midst them soon the twain did pass,
Hand locked in hand, heart kissing heart,
No more this side of death to part--
No more, no more--full soft I say
Their greetings were that happy day,
As though in pensive semblance clad;
For fear their faces over-glad
This certain thing should seem to hide,
That love can ne'er be satisfied.
(WILLIAM MORRIS: _The Earthly Paradise_; _The Land East of the Sun_.
1870.)