Chapter 2 of 7 · 11831 words · ~59 min read

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_):