Chapter 18

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

This measure is a most awkward one, certainly. The line of fourteen syllables is more natural, and was used in at least one long piece called "Albion's England," by Thomas Warner, a rhymer of the sixteenth century. A maid is advised whom to love in these terms:—

"The ploughman's labour hath no end, and he a churl will prove;The craftsman hath more work on hand than fitteth one to love;The merchant trafficking abroad, suspects his wife at home;A youth will play the wanton, and an old will play the mome:Then choose a shepherd."

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

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

The merchant trafficking abroad, suspects his wife at home;

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

Then choose a shepherd."

This is but the lumbering dodecasyllabic verse rendered more lumbering still by two fresh feet, it will be generally allowed. In fact, these lines of twelve and fourteen feet have only been used effectually as"Alexandrines," or single lines introduced to wind up, or heighten the force of passages, in the heroic or the octosyllabic measure. Pope ridicules this practice, though it was a favourite one with Dryden:—

"A needless Alexandrine ends the song,That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along."

"A needless Alexandrine ends the song,

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

In Dryden's "Ode to music," the following instances of the two kinds of Alexandrines occur:—

"Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.""And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain."

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

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

By giving lines of ten, twelve, and fourteen syllables in succession, as he occasionally does in his translation of Virgil, Dryden brings passages with artistic skill to a very noble climax. But the Alexandrine is now nearly obsolete in our poetry.

The most common features and peculiarities of English Versification have now received a share of attention. Measure and Rhythm,—Accent and Pause, have all been duly noticed. There are yet other points, however, connected with the subject, which merit equal attention from the student of poetical composition. Every rule that has been mentioned may be preserved, and still most inharmonious verse may be the result. The greatest poets, either from experience or innate musical taste, adopted additional means to arrive at perfect versification. Pope points to some of these in his well-known lines:—

"The sound must seem an echo to the sense.Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar."

"The sound must seem an echo to the sense.

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows,

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows;

But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,

The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar."

The poet, as all will of course see, here exemplifies the meaning of his lines practically in their structure. The Greek and Roman writers were quite aware of the effect of congruous sound and sense. Virgil has several famous lines constructed on this principle, as—

"Monstrum, horrendum, informe, ingens cui lumen ademptum."(A monster, horrid, formless, gross, and blind.)

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

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

To give a better idea of the efficient way in which the poet has roughened the above verse to suit the picture of a monster, one of his ordinary lines may be quoted:—

"Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas."

But it is wrong to call this an ordinary line, since Dr. Johnson considered it to be the most musical in any human language. Ovid, again, has made the sense and sound (and also construction) agree finely in the following passage:—

"Sponte sua carmen numeros veniebat ad aptos,Et quod tentabam dicere versus erat."

"Sponte sua carmen numeros veniebat ad aptos,

Et quod tentabam dicere versus erat."

Pope has imitated these lines, and applied them to himself, the signification being simply—

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

Among our own great bards, Milton stands peculiarly distinguished for success in the use of this ornament of verse. The "Allegro" and "Penseroso" exhibit various exquisite instances.

"Swinging slow with sullen roar.""On the light fantastic toe.""Through the high wood echoing shrill.""And the busy hum of men.""Most musical, most melancholy.""Lap me in soft Lydian airs."

"Swinging slow with sullen roar."

"On the light fantastic toe."

"Through the high wood echoing shrill."

"And the busy hum of men."

"Most musical, most melancholy."

"Lap me in soft Lydian airs."

In the "Paradise Lost," again, there occur many passages rendered forcible in the extreme by the adaptation of sound to sense. Thus—

"Him the Almighty powerHurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,With hideous ruin and combustion, downTo bottomless perdition."

"Him the Almighty power

Hurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,

With hideous ruin and combustion, down

To bottomless perdition."

Still more remarkable is the following passage, as expressive of slow and toilsome travel:—

"The fiendO'er bog or steep, through straight, rough, dense, or rare,With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."

"The fiend

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

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

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

The chief mean of attaininggeneral harmonyin verse isa free and happy distribution of the vowel-sounds. For producing aspecial harmony, consonant withspecial signification, other rules require to be followed. But, in the first place, let us look particularly to the means of rendering verse simply and aggregatelymelodious. It must not be supposed, as many are apt to do, that even the most illustrious poets considered it beneath them to attend to such minutiæ as the distribution of the vowels in their verses. Look at the grand opening of "Paradise Lost." It is scarcely conceivable that the remarkable variation of the vowels there, on which the effect will be found largely to depend, can have been the result of chance. No one line almost, it will be seen, gives the same vowel-soundtwice.

"Of man's first disobedience, and the fruitOf that forbidden tree, whose mortal tasteBrought death into the world, and all our woe,With loss of Eden, till one greater ManRestore us, and regain the heavenly seat,Sing, heavenly Muse."

"Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the heavenly seat,

Sing, heavenly Muse."

The following stanza of Leyden was considered by Scott one of the most musical in the language, and it is rendered so mainly by its vowel variety:—

"How sweetly swell on Jura's heathThe murmurs of the mountain bee!How sweetly mourns the writhèd shell,Of Jura's shore, its parent sea!"

"How sweetly swell on Jura's heath

The murmurs of the mountain bee!

How sweetly mourns the writhèd shell,

Of Jura's shore, its parent sea!"

A passage from the "Laodamia" of Wordsworth may be pointed to as an equally striking illustration of the same rule:—

"HeSpake of heroic arts in graver moodRevived, with finer harmony pursued;Of all that is most beauteous—imaged thereIn happier beauty; more pellucid streams,An ampler ether, a diviner air,And fields invested with purpureal glaems;Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest dayEarth knows, is all unworthy to survey."

"He

Spake of heroic arts in graver mood

Revived, with finer harmony pursued;

Of all that is most beauteous—imaged there

In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,

An ampler ether, a diviner air,

And fields invested with purpureal glaems;

Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day

Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey."

Wordsworth, who in truth is the perfect master of this species of Melody, as the "Excursion" will prove to all those who look thereinto attentively, has scarcely once repeated the same exact sound in any two words, of any one line, in the preceding quotation. One more passage (from "Lycidas") may be given to undeceive yet more completely those who have been want to ascribe the rich Miltonic melody to mere chance:—

"Alas! what boots it with incessant careTo tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade.And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?Were it not better done, as others use,To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?"

"Alas! what boots it with incessant care

To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade.

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?

Were it not better done, as others use,

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,

Or with the tangles of Neæra's hair?"

This most melodious passage has often been quoted, but the source of its melody has not been generally recognised by ordinary readers. The key which unlocks the secret has here been given. Let it be applied to our poetry at large, and it will be found to explain the effect of many of its grandest and sweetest passages.

The proper distribution of the vowels, then, so effective in the hands of Milton and Wordsworth, may be decisively viewed as a main help to harmony of versification generally. But when the poet desires to make his language expressparticularmeanings bysounds, he studies more specially, in the first place, the right disposition of accent and pause, and so advances partly to his object. Thus Milton, in describing the fall of Mulciber or Vulcan from heaven, leaves him, as it were, tumbling and tumbling in the verse, by a beautiful pause:—

"From mornTo noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,A summer's day."

"From morn

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,

A summer's day."

A similar and not less exquisite pause is made in the famed passage, otherwise beautiful from variety of vowels, where, after swelling allusions to

"What resoundsIn fable or romance of Uther's sonBegirt with British and Armoric knights,And all who since, baptized or infidel,Jousted in Aspramount or Montalbalm,"

"What resounds

In fable or romance of Uther's son

Begirt with British and Armoric knights,

And all who since, baptized or infidel,

Jousted in Aspramount or Montalbalm,"

a dying and most melodious close is attained—

"When Charlemain with all his peerage fellBy Fontarabia."

"When Charlemain with all his peerage fell

By Fontarabia."

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

"The schoolboy, wandering through the wood,To pull the primrose gay,Starts, the new voice of spring to hear,And imitates thy lay.""My song, its pinions disarray'd of night,Droop'd.""The carvèd angels, ever eager eyed,Stared.""Liberty,From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er SpainScattering contagious fire into the sky,Gleam'd."

"The schoolboy, wandering through the wood,To pull the primrose gay,Starts, the new voice of spring to hear,And imitates thy lay."

"The schoolboy, wandering through the wood,

To pull the primrose gay,

Starts, the new voice of spring to hear,

And imitates thy lay."

"My song, its pinions disarray'd of night,Droop'd.""The carvèd angels, ever eager eyed,Stared."

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

Droop'd."

"The carvèd angels, ever eager eyed,

Stared."

"Liberty,From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er SpainScattering contagious fire into the sky,Gleam'd."

"Liberty,

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

Scattering contagious fire into the sky,

Gleam'd."

Much more striking instances of the effect of laying marked and compulsory pauses on first syllables might be adduced, but these, taken by chance, may suffice as illustrations. Such aids to impressive versifying must not be overlooked by young poets. The pause and accent, however, may both be similarly employed and fixed without the help of positive periods. Thus Wordsworth, in lines likewise beautiful from vowel-variety:—

"What time the hunter's earliest horn is heard,Startlingthe golden hills."

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

Startlingthe golden hills."

The voice accents the word "startling" naturally; and mind and ear both own its peculiar aptitude where it is placed. Not less marked is the force of the same word in the middle of the Miltonic line:—

"To hear the lark begin his flight,And singingstartlethe dull night."

"To hear the lark begin his flight,

And singingstartlethe dull night."

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

"The patriot nymphstartsat imagined sounds."

The following are examples of sense brought clearly out, by placing the pause and accent at different points of the verses:—

"My heartaches, and a drowsy numbness painsMy sense.""Cut mercy with a sharpknifeto the bone."

"My heartaches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense."

"Cut mercy with a sharpknifeto the bone."

The strong effect of these lines arises from the accent being thrown on syllables usually short or unaccented in the decasyllabic verse. This is a common stroke of art with Milton, when he would lay force on particular words. Most of our great poets, indeed, knew and practised the same rule.

So much for the effects of the structure of the verse, and the location of the accent and pause. But the simple choice ofapt dictionis still more important to the art of effective versification, as far as the evolution of special meanings is concerned. Reference is not here made to diction that is apt through signification merely, but such, more particularly, as by itssoundenhances the force of the thoughts or images which it conveys. In this shape is the congruity of sound and sense best developed. To the instances given from Pope and Milton others may now be added, with an explanation of the artistic rules employed in the case.

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

"The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea."

By the use of thershere it is, that the very sound of the surge seems to be brought to the ear; and even the open vowels at the close give something like the sense of a great and cold waste of waters beyond the surge. Equally apt is the impression made by the lines:—

"The murmurous haunt of flies on summer-eves.""Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridgeStubborn'd with iron.""A ghostly under-song,Like hoarse night-gusts sepulchral briars among.""The snorting of the war-horse of the storm."

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

"Couches of rugged stone, and slaty ridge

Stubborn'd with iron."

"A ghostly under-song,

Like hoarse night-gusts sepulchral briars among."

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

These are instances in which the roughening effect of theris felt to aid the meaning powerfully. The actual and direct meaning of the words chosen, beyond a doubt, is by far the most important point in all kinds of composition; but the art of the poet may be more or less evinced in his selection of such as have a fit and correspondent sound. All great poets have recognised this law. The art, however, must not be too palpable. Pope, in exemplifying the harsh effect of the letterr, allowed the art to be too easily seen.

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

Keats, before quoted, manages the matter more delicately.

We refer to the use of the letterrsimply in illustration of a principle of great consequence in poetical composition. It is also of the widest application. Not a letter, or combination of letters, in the English language, is without some peculiar force of sound of its own, enhancing sense; and above all does this assertion hold good in respect to the Anglo-Saxon elements or portions of our vernacular tongue. This circumstance arises from the fact of the Anglo-Saxon being a very pure dialect of a primitive language, the earliest words of which languages are ever meredescriptions, as far as sound goes, of the acts or objects implied or spoken of.Hissandhowl, for instance, are clearly imitative of the noises of hissing and howling; and thousands of similarly derived vocables are not less expressive in a kindred way. Our most eminent national poets, whether taught by the ear or by experience, have shown themselves well aware of these things, and have turned to fine account the Anglo-Saxon constituents of the mother-tongue. In those languages, again, which have passed through various shapes since their first invention by man—as the French, Spanish, and Italian—nearly all traces of congruous sound and sense have been lost, and general modulation has taken place of specific expressiveness. The gain here, which practically rests on the use of a multiplicity of vowels, cannot be held to counterbalance the loss. Exquisitely melodious as are the verses of Tasso and Ariosto, for example, no one wholly ignorant of Italian could ever even guess at the meaning of a single line or word from the mere hearing. The English language stands placed, in the main, very differently: and happily does it do so, as far as force, impressiveness, and picturesque beauty are concerned. No doubt, we have many words founded on the Latin and its modern derivations; and these are far from unserviceable, inasmuch as they lend general harmony to our tongue, spoken and written. But our special strength of diction comes from the Anglo-Saxon; and fortunate is it, that that primitive form of speech still forms the chief constituent of the national language of Britain.

The reader now understands by what means our best national poets have striven to render sound and sense congruous in their verses. It has mainly been, as said, by the use of Anglo-Saxon words which could scarcely fail to suit the end well, since they were actually formed, primarily, upon that very principle. Much of the power, of course, lies in the consonants which occur so freely in the language; and yet the vowels, while essential to the use and force of the consonants, are not without their individual and respective kinds and shades of expressiveness. Theo, for instance, has a breadth and weight not pertaining to the other vowels, as in the last of these two lines—

"Some words she spakeIn solemn tenour and deep organ tone."

"Some words she spake

In solemn tenour and deep organ tone."

The other vowels have also their respective degrees of depth, lightness, and other qualities. But mere general harmony only, or chiefly, can be attained by the use of vowel-sounds unaided by consonants of particular powers; and it has already been pointed out, that, to develop that harmony fully, an extensive variation of the said sounds is the principal thing required, and has ever been employed by the greatest poets.

With regard to Consonants, there is scarcely one in the alphabet without some well-marked and special force of its own. By conjunction with others, or with vowels, this special force may likewise be modified vastly, giving rise to numberless varieties of expression,or rather expressiveness. The roughening power of the letterrhas been adverted to, and other consonants may now be noticed, with exemplifications, of their efficient use in poetry. The consonants are noticeable for their peculiar powers, at once at the beginning, in the middle, and at the close of words; but the present purpose will be best served by taking them up successively, as initial letters.

The consonantb, at the opening of words, has no very marked force; but it originates many expressive terms, often finely employed in poetry.

"Hebabbledof green fields."

Here the word paints the act to perfection. "Beslubberedall with tears." "Ablubberingboy." "Fire burn, and caldronbubble." All of these words exemplify sound and sense clearly combined; and our poets have also used, with like effect,bawl,brawl,bray, and many other common terms, beginning withb. But on the whole, its initial power is not great; and it is, indeed, rather a soft consonant, like the labials generally.C, again, sounded ask, has really a special power, quick, sharp, and cutting, at the commencement of words, and more particularly when followed bylandr, and aided by apt terminations. Well did Milton and others of our bards know this fact, as the subjoined lines may partly show:—

"Clash'dtheir sounding shields the din of war.""Till all his limbs docrack.""Icleavewith rapid fin the wave.""In one wild havoccrash'd.""The moonbeamscrispthecurlingsurge.""By the howling of the dog.""By thecroakingof the frog."

"Clash'dtheir sounding shields the din of war."

"Till all his limbs docrack."

"Icleavewith rapid fin the wave."

"In one wild havoccrash'd."

"The moonbeamscrispthecurlingsurge."

"By the howling of the dog."

"By thecroakingof the frog."

All these are effective terms, both in the opening and close. Those who recollect any great actor in "Hamlet," must have noticed the splendid emphasis placeable on the words—

"What should such fellows as I do,Crawlingbetwixt earth and heaven!"

"What should such fellows as I do,

Crawlingbetwixt earth and heaven!"

The following is most aptly heavy:—

"Save that aclogdoth hang yet at my heel."

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

"I plead a pardon for my tale,And having hemmed andcough'd—begin."

"I plead a pardon for my tale,

And having hemmed andcough'd—begin."

Butcoughmust be pronounced in the old Anglo-Saxon way, and not ascoff. The power of the letterd, at the commencement of words, is not quick and sharp like thec, but rather slow and heavy; and this effect is vastly increased when anris added. Thus, for instance:—

"Dragsits slow length along.""Not all thedrowsysyrups of the world.""Thedrearymelody of bedded reeds.""Snivelling anddrivellingfolly without end.""Good shepherds after shearingdrenchtheir sheep.""Anddroppingmelody with every tear."

"Dragsits slow length along."

"Not all thedrowsysyrups of the world."

"Thedrearymelody of bedded reeds."

"Snivelling anddrivellingfolly without end."

"Good shepherds after shearingdrenchtheir sheep."

"Anddroppingmelody with every tear."

Such words, too, asdrawl,droop,drip,drizzle,drum, and others, may be, have been used excellently in poetry. Thefis a letter expressive of a light and rapid action, at least when conjoined with other consonants. Campbell uses it finely in both ways:—

"But see! 'mid thefast-flashinglightnings of war.What steed to the desertflies frantic and far?"

"But see! 'mid thefast-flashinglightnings of war.

What steed to the desertflies frantic and far?"

The quick action is also signified inflay,flog,fling,flitter, and other vocables. Coriolanus portrays verbally the very deed, when he tells how,

"Like an eagle in a dovecot, heFlutter'dtheir Volsces in Corioli."

"Like an eagle in a dovecot, he

Flutter'dtheir Volsces in Corioli."

G, by itself, is rather a soft consonant; and, followed byl, it has also a mild effect, as in the very expressive words,gleam,glide,glitter,glisten,gloom, and the like.Gr, again, is singularly heavy and harsh, as in the succeeding cases:—

"Andgrinn'd, terrific, a sardonic look.""Grinn'dhorribly a ghastly smile.""Grapplehim to thy soul with hooks of steel.""In came Margaret'sgrimlyghost."

"Andgrinn'd, terrific, a sardonic look."

"Grinn'dhorribly a ghastly smile."

"Grapplehim to thy soul with hooks of steel."

"In came Margaret'sgrimlyghost."

Of kindred force aregrasp,gripe,grope, and others.Gnashandgnawhave a sort of convulsive twist in sense, and so should they have in sound, when rightly pronounced, and after the original mode. By the way,thoughgrinbe a strong word, in its old shape it is stronger; and thatgirn, still used in Scotland.

All of these specimens of the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary, and many of a kindred order, have been often made to tell exquisitely in our national poetry. The same averment may be made regarding hosts of other words, differently begun and formed; but we must so far content ourselves with having shown the principle, and go over what is to come more quickly. However, the aspiratehmust not be lightly overpassed, having a striking value in verse. Being pronounced with anaspiration, it gives a certain energy to almost all words which it begins, ashack,harsh,hawl,haste,hit,hunt, and the like. To some terms it imparts a sort of laboriouslyelevativeforce. Pope composed the following line purposely to exemplify this property:—

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

The merely expiratory force of thehis felt equally in naming the "heights of heaven" and the "hollows of hell." Though but half a letter, it is thus potent in poetry, and is often beautifully turned to account by Milton, as in the passage, "Him the Almighty powerhurled headlong," and so on.

The letterjgives the initiative to many expressive words, though their expressiveness rests mainly on the terminations. Such is the case withjar,jerk,jig,jilt,jog,jostle,jumble,jump. Our comic writers have used the most of these to good purpose. It is worth while specially to noticejeer. It would seem as if theeerwas an ending peculiarly fitted to express themeaning whichjeerbears, since it gives a pretty similar force tosneer,fleer,leer,peer,queer, and some others. Sound and sense concur in all these terms. Thekmerely gives to words the same power as the hardc.Lhas no great force as the initial letter of words, though it yet possesses so far its own peculiar expressiveness. That the whole members of the alphabet do so, indeed, may be very simply proved. Of the following twelve monosyllables closing inash, the different opening letters give a different force, in respect of sound, to each word, and such as perfectly accords with the actual and several meanings. The words are,clash,crash,dash,flash,gnash,lash,mash,quash,plash,slash,smash, andthrash. The distinction here may not be great in some instances, but it certainly is so in the gratingcrash, the rapidflash, and the ponderoussmash! These points are well worthy the attention of the student of English Versification—in truth, of English literature generally.

Many expressive words, opening withl, are formed by apt closes, aslift,lisp,limp,loathe,log,lull, andlurk. How fine thelollin Shakspeare's line:—

"The large Achilles, on his press'd bedlolling,From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause!"

"The large Achilles, on his press'd bedlolling,

From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause!"

Mandn, opening words isolatedly, have little peculiarity of power, but gain it by continuations and terminations:—

"Hell ismurky.""To pluck themangledTybalt from his shroud.""Thrice the brinded cat hathmew'd.""Themattedwoods.""Thou detestable womb, thoumawof death.""So the two brothers and theirmurder'dman.""This hand ismoist, my lady.""Themuffleddrum."

"Hell ismurky."

"To pluck themangledTybalt from his shroud."

"Thrice the brinded cat hathmew'd."

"Themattedwoods."

"Thou detestable womb, thoumawof death."

"So the two brothers and theirmurder'dman."

"This hand ismoist, my lady."

"Themuffleddrum."

And so on.Neigh,nod,nip,nickand so forth, exemplify thensufficiently. There are fewer words of a very expressive kind opened byp, than by any other letter which may be followed by other consonants, aslandr. Nor needqdelay our progress.R, however, as already observed, is one of the most emphatic letters in the alphabet; and, whether at the beginning, in the middle, or at the close of words, it gives them a striking and specific force in enunciation. Rude and rough power lies in its sound. The monosyllabic verbs which it commences show well what its original effect was felt to be.Race,rage,rack,rail,rain,rake,ramp,range,rant,rate,rave,rash,raze—all these words have an affinity of meaning, derived from thera, though modified by the endings. Followed by other vowels, thersoftens somewhat, as inreach,reap,ride,rise, and the like; but still there is force of action implied in the sound.Ring,rip, andrift, may be styledear-pictures. It is impossible, by citations, to give any conception of the extent to which therhas been used in imparting fitting emphasis to poetry. Nearly all words, implying terror or horror, rest mainly on it for their picturesque force. This point, however, has been already illustrated sufficiently for the present purpose.

S, by itself, opens many words of mild action, assail,sew,sit,soar, andsuck. With an additional consonant;sc,sh,sk,sl,sm,sn,sp,sq,st, andsuit gives rise to most potent verbs of action; and still stronger ones are formed when another consonant is added, as in the cases ofscr,spr, andstr. What is chiefly to the point here, sense and sound are strikingly congruous in terms of this formation. The initials give force whatever the endings may be, though these may modify it largely. Let the reader look well at the following list.Scald,scalp,scare,scamper,scatter,scoff,scorn,scowl,scour,scourge,scrape,scrawl,scratch,scream,screw,scrub,scramble,scraggy,scud;shake,shape,shave,shift,shine,shirk,shiver,shock,shoot,shout,shriek,shrill,shrink,shrug,shuffle,shudder,skate,skim,skiff,skirr;slap,slay,sleep,slumber,slip,slit,slink,sling,slow,slough,sluggish,slur,slut,sly;smash,smite,smile,smooth,smug,smuggle,smother;snap,snarl,snare,snatch,snib,snip,snub,sneap,snack,snort,snivel,snell;speed,spit,split,splash,spout,spring,spur,spurt,spurn,sputter,spy,sprinkle;squeeze,squall,squeak,squat,squash,squabble,squib;stab,stamp,stare,start,steal,steam,steep,steer,step,stem,stick,sting,stir,stoop,storm,stow;strain,strap,streak,stress,stretch,strew,stride,strike,string,strip, strive, stroll, strut, stuff, stump, stun, stagger, stammer,startle,strangle,stutter,struggle,stumble;sway,sweep,swell,swing,swoop,swirl.

This is truly a long roll; but it is one deserving of all attention from those who are studying the euphony, or the happy cacophony, of the English vocabulary, with an eye to poetic composition. Each word here is, to repeat a somewhat dubious phrase, a positiveauricular picture. There is variety in sense, but it is still accompanied by fit variety of sound. And yet a general similarity of significations exists among the words formed byswith one or more additional consonants: while still more akin are the sets of words begun alike. The whole, collectively, express force, and for the most part strong force.Scareandscreamimply (in sound and sense) sharp action;shakeandshrink, soft and moderate;skateandskim, quick and smooth;slipandsling, rapid and easy;smashandsmite, strong and suppressive;snarlandsnap, snarling and snappish;spitandsplit, slight but decisive;squeezeandsqueak, forcible but petty;stabandstamp, direct and powerful;strainandstrike, full ofstraining strength, and with their congeners, the most energetic of words, in sound and sense, in the language. In verbs opened bysw, as insweepandswirl, thesgives an onward impulse, as it were, and thewrenders it so far rotatory. Leigh Hunt applies the word swirl finely to ships:—

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

Most of the words formed withtas the initial derive from it no very marked force, and depend for that quality on the same terminations which have been noticed as giving force to others. Thetneed not, therefore, occupy our space. Thewis also weak alone, but forms terms of some initial pith with the aspiratehaswheel,whiff,whelm,whip,whirl,whisk, andwhoop. There is a sort of sense of circuitous motion given by thewh; and, with their well-discriminatedterminations, the verbs of action which it opens are very expressive. Whenwrwas pronounceduurr, the words,wrangle,wrestle,wreath,wring,wrench, andwrathwere words of potency, twisting and convulsive. But thewis now mute, and their might has departed.

It is because much, very much, of the power, the majesty, and the beauty of English Poetry, as left to us by our fathers, is traceable to the liberal use of the Anglo-Saxon elements of our national language, that the subject has been treated of here so lengthily. Moreover, there has been evinced of late, it is painful to add, a growing tendency on the part of many writers to cultivate Gallicisms, as words of Roman derivation are rightly named, to a still greater extent than has yet been done amongst us, and to the repression of our true native vocabulary. A gain may be made in this way in respect of general harmony, as before observed, but it is a gain which never can counterbalance the loss in point of pith and picturesqueness. It is not said here, that our greater recent poets have been the chief deserters of the Anglo-Saxon tongue. On the contrary, many of them have shown a full sense of its merits, and have used it finely. It is a remarkable corroboration, indeed, of the present argument, that in all their best passages, they almost uniformly employ the said tongue, whether consciously or unconsciously. Look at the following passage of Burns. It has been pronounced by critics to embody the most powerful picture in modern poetry.

"Coffins stood round like open presses,That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;And by some devilish cantrip sleight,Each in its cauld hand held a light,By which heroic Tam was ableTo note upon the haly tableA murderer's banes in gibbet-airns;Twa span-lang, wee unchristen'd bairns;A thief, new cuttit frae a rape—Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;A garter which a babe had strangled;A knife, a father's throat had mangled,Whom his ain son o' life had reft—The gray hairs yet stack to the heft."

"Coffins stood round like open presses,

That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;

And by some devilish cantrip sleight,

Each in its cauld hand held a light,

By which heroic Tam was able

To note upon the haly table

A murderer's banes in gibbet-airns;

Twa span-lang, wee unchristen'd bairns;

A thief, new cuttit frae a rape—

Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;

A garter which a babe had strangled;

A knife, a father's throat had mangled,

Whom his ain son o' life had reft—

The gray hairs yet stack to the heft."

This passage forms a splendid specimen of almost pure Anglo-Saxon; and, among the few words of a different origin, one of the most marked may perhaps be rightly held a blemish—namelyheroic. Like Burns, Wordsworth, and all those moderns who have studied ear-painting (if this phrase may be again pardoned) as well as eye-painting in their verses, have drawn freely on the Anglo-Saxon vocabulary. All young and incipient versifiers should study their works, and "Go and do likewise."

The general construction of English verse, and the various rules by which it is rendered melodious, expressive, and picturesque, having now been explained, it remains but to indicate, in a few words, the principal divisions of Poetry common, among us. Epic verse is held to be the highest description of poetical composition. The "Iliad" of Homer and "Æneid" of Virgil have always formed models in this department;and it is remarkable, but true, that we can scarcely be said to have one English epic that rises to their standard, saving "Paradise Lost." Of the character of an epic, it need but be said here, that the subject, the diction, and the treatment must all be alike lofty and sustained. In English, the decasyllabic is the epic line, sometimes called the Heroic. If we have so few epics, however, we have many poems of high note that are usually styled Didactic, from theirteachinggreat truths. Akenside, Thomson, Cowper, Rogers, and Campbell wrote such poems, some in blank verse, others in rhyme. Where rhymed, they are all written in Couplets, or pairs of lines, rhyming to one another, in regular succession. Narrative, Descriptive, and Satiric poems (the several objects of which may be drawn from these epithets) are important species of composition, and for the most part constructed similarly to the Epic and Didactic pieces. In truth, the ten-syllabled line, in couplets or in blank verse, though best adapted for grave subjects, has been employed on almost all themes by English poets. Nearly the same thing may be said of the octosyllabic verse, also written commonly in couplets, when used in long compositions. Many poems, which may be generally termed Romantic, have likewise been framed in the eight-syllabled line, though not usually in couplets.

The name of Stanzas is bestowed, aggregately, on all assemblages of lines, exceeding two in number, when they are arranged continuously. The following is a stanza of three lines, termed isolatedly a Triplet:—

"Nothing, thou elder brother even to Shade.Thou hadst a being ere the world was made,And (well fix'd) art alone of ending not afraid."

"Nothing, thou elder brother even to Shade.

Thou hadst a being ere the world was made,

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

Stanzas in four lines, called specially Quatrains, are exemplified in Gray's "Churchyard Elegy." Indeed, that stanza has long been denominated the Elegiac. Tennyson's "In Memoriam" is composed in octosyllabic quatrains. In stanzas of four lines, also, half the minor poetry in the language is composed. The general name of "Lyrical" is given to such poetry, and implies the subjects to be occasional and detached, and the pieces usually brief. "Songs" come within the Lyric category. It would be needless to exemplify a stanza so well known, either in its frequent form of alternate rhyming lines of eight and eight syllables, or its yet more common one of eight and six. No continuous poems of any length or moment have been written in five-line stanzas, and few in those of six lines. The latest piece in the latter shape has been Sir E. L. Bulwer's "King Arthur;" but the stanza is too like the very famous one called in Italy theottava rima, with two lines lopped off and not beneficially. The "Don Juan" of Byron is composed in thisottava rima, or eight-lined stanza; but it was borrowed from the Italians (the real inventors) by William Tennant, and used in his "Anster Fair," long before Frere or Byron thought of its appropriation—a circumstance of which many critics have shown a discreditable ignorance. It is the best of all stanzas for a light or burlesque epic, the principle of its construction being—seriousness in the first six lines, and in the last two amockery of that seriousness. The great poet, however, can make any stanza great. Shakspeare used the six-line stanza in his "Venus and Adonis," and that of seven lines in his "Lucrece."

The only other regular English stanza, of high note, and calling for mention here, is the Spenserian, consisting of nine lines, the first eight decasyllabic, and the last an Alexandrine of twelve feet. Many noble poems have been written in this stanza, from Spenser's "Fairy Queen" to Byron's "Childe Harold," which may be viewed as romantic and narrative epics respectively. It is calculated to convey aptly the loftiest poetry, though Thomson and Shenstone have employed it for lighter purposes, in the "Castle of Indolence" and "Schoolmistress."

The sonnet is, in its highest moods, an epic in fourteen lines; and, as regards its normal structure, should present but four different rhymes in all. So Milton wrote it, and so often Wordsworth,facile principesin this walk of poetic composition; but six or more rhymes are commonly admitted. The rhymes of the successive lines stand thus, in the Miltonic sonnet:—"arms, seize, please, harms, charms, these, seas, warms, bower, spare, tower, air, power, bare." In a sonnet, Wordsworth splendidly exemplifies the sonnet, and tells its uses and its history. ("Scorn not," &c. Wordsworth's Miscellaneous Sonnets.)

The Ode is a poem of irregular construction, or rather was so constructed by the Greek bard Pindar, and after him by Dryden and Collins, his best English imitators. Wordsworth and Coleridge also wrote fineodes of late years, and they followed the same irregularities of composition. Shelley and Keats, however, produced noble pieces, of the same kind, as those on "Liberty" and "Melancholy," in which they used a very free measure, but in orderly stanzas. It would be out of place to describe at length the plan of the Pindaric ode—for it had a general plan, though fantastic in details. The wildest forms of it were styled the dithyrambic; and impassioned grandeur of sentiment and diction were its characteristics. Horace, in his best odes, contented himself with aiming at dignity and justness of thoughts, and pointedness of expression. Dryden and Collins, as well as Coleridge and Shelley, copied and approached the dithyrambic fervour; while Keats sought but after beauty, and left us masterpieces in that kind—"alas, too few!"

With yet a word on the art of Song-Writing, this essay may be closed. It well merits a word, and chiefly because it is an art the most easy in seeming, and the most difficult in reality, in the entire range of literary composition. People might easily discern this truth, if they would but take note how few really great song-writers have ever flourished among men, at any time, or in any country. Without forgetting Ramsay, Hogg, and Cunningham, it may be justly asserted that Scotland has seen but one such bard, Robert Burns. Ireland has likewise produced but one, Thomas Moore. England has given birth to—not one song-writer of the same high order! Such is the fact; for to such parties as the Dibdins, Charles Morris, or Haynes Bayly, the rank of great song-writers cannot be assigned. However,it is but fair to admit that Moore should be reckoned as in the main a song-writer of England, his music only, and occasionally his subjects, being Irish. His pieces are wholly in the English tongue, and by the English nation he may so far be claimed. That numberless individuals have written one or two good songs, is unquestionable, but the circumstance only strengthens the present argument. It shows the difficulty of fitly carrying out and sustaining the practice of song-writing.

Notwithstanding these glaring truths, the young, on feeling the first prompting of the muse, fly to this species of composition almost invariably. Now, whether they do or do not possess the requisite poetical powers (which is not the point under consideration here), they certainly take up the said task, almost always, in total ignorance of the rules of construction necessary to be observed in song-writing. These are few, but all-important. After simplicity and concentration of thought and diction—the first elements in such compositions—simplicity of grammatical arrangement stands next in consequence. An inverted expression is most injurious, and a parenthetic clause almost uniformly fatal. All forms of complication are indeed alike hurtful; and even epithets, and adjectives of every kind, can be employed but sparingly, and must be most direct and simple. That mode of poetic diction, which introduces its similitudes by "as the," "so the," and "like the," is ruinous in songs. Scarcely less so are interjections, especially when of some length. Look how sadly even Wordsworth failed, when hethought to improve on the old ballad of Helen of Kirkconnel!

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