CHAPTER IV

The cur | few tolls | the knell | of part | ing day

bothcurfewandpartingare divided.[24]Further, the division between clauses may fall in the middle of a foot, as in Wordsworth's lines

The world | is too | much with | us; late | and soonGetting and spending we lay waste our powers.

But another difficulty remains, which is apparent in the second line just quoted from Wordsworth. The general rhythm of the whole sonnet of which these two lines are the beginning is plainly duple rising, or iambic. The first line and the latter part of the second are easily divisible into iambs; but how shallGetting and spend- be divided? Clearlyand spend- is an iamb, butGettingis not. Can trochees and iambs occur together in the same line without either obscuring or actually destroying the rhythm? The simpler solution would be to keep the whole line in rising rhythm by regarding -ing and spend- as the second foot and ‸Gett- as the first. (The sign ‸ indicates a missing syllable or musical rest. See below, page63.)

The most common feet are the iamb, the trochee, the anapest, and the dactyl (see above, page 38), to which may be added the spondee. The names are borrowed, not quite felicitously, from classical prosody. Various symbols are in use:

FootSymbolsExamplesiamb◡ _̷X /xaalone, despair, to walk.trochee_̷ ◡/ Xaxstudy, backward, talk to.anapest◡ ◡ _̷X X /xxainterdict, to permit,dactyl_̷ ◡ ◡/ X Xaxxtenderly, after the.spondee_̷ _̷/ /aastone deaf, broad-browed.

Classical prosody distinguished several other feet, some of which are occasionally mentioned in treatises on English verse: amphibrach ◡_◡, tribrach ◡◡◡, pyrrhic ◡◡, paeon _◡◡◡, choriamb _◡◡_.

The objection to the use of these classical terms is not so serious as is frequently supposed. Since Greek andLatin prosody was primarily quantitative, that is, based upon syllabic length, and every long syllable was theoretically equal to two short syllables, an iamb or ◡- had the musical value of ♪♩, a trochee of ♩♪, a dactyl of ♩♪♪, etc. And since no such definite musical valuation can be given to English feet, a Greek iamb and an English iamb are obviously different. But after all there was inevitably an element of stress in the classical feet, and there is a very positive element of time in the English, so that the difference is not so great, and no confusion need result once the facts are recognized. Another set of terms, however, borrowed from the Greek and Latin is open to more grave objection, for no real equivalence exists between the classical and the modern phenomena. Theiambic trimeterin Greek consists of three dipodies or six iambs; as used by English prosodists it consists of three iambs. The Greektrochaic tetrameter, similarly, contains eight trochees, the English 'trochaic tetrameter' but four. The common termiambic pentameteris not so objectionable, but is to be rejected because of its similarity to the others, which are actually confusing.

The next larger metrical unit after the foot is thelineorverse. It is distinguished (1) mechanically by the custom of printing, (2) phonetically by the pause usual at the end, and (3) structurally by its use as a unit in forming the stanza. Lines are of one, two, three, or more feet, according to the metrical form used by the poet (see Chapter IV). In rimed verse the end of the line is so emphasized that the line itself stands out as a very perceptible rhythmic unit; in unrimed verse,however, the line is frequently not felt as a unit at all, but is so interwoven with the natural prose rhythm of the words as to be almost indistinguishable to the ear, though of course visible to the eye on the printed page. This fact is easily apparent in reading the second, fifth, and sixth illustrative selections on pages 43, 44.

Thestanzaorstropheis a combination of two or more lines of the same or varying lengths, according to a regular pattern chosen by the poet. 'Irregular' stanzas sometimes occur, in which the thought rhythm is said to control and determine the stanzaic rhythm; that is, the length of line and position of rimes are regulated by the logical and emotional content of the words. On the various kinds of stanzaic structure, see pages 88 ff., below.

Metrical Patterns.It must be fully understood that these metrical patterns of line and stanza are purely formal. They are the bottles into which the poet pours his liquid meaning, or better, the sketched-in squares over which the painter, copying from an old masterpiece, draws and paints his figures. They have no literal or concrete existence. They are no more the music of verse than

Waltz rhythm

is the music of a waltz. They are absolutely fixed and predetermined (though the poet may invent new patterns if he chooses). But he uses themonly as formson which he arranges his words and phrases. For the rhythm of language is extremely soft and malleable:by skilful handling it can be moulded into an infinite variety of shapes. Perhaps the comparison of a stanza by John Donne with a stanza by W.B. Yeats, both based on the same metrical scheme, will help to make this clear. The formal scheme is

◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷Death, be not proud, though some have callèd theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.John Donne, Death.When you are old and gray and full of sleepAnd nodding by the fire, take down this book,And slowly read, and dream of the soft lookYour eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.W. B. Yeats, When You are Old.

◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷

Death, be not proud, though some have callèd theeMighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrowDie not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.John Donne, Death.

When you are old and gray and full of sleepAnd nodding by the fire, take down this book,And slowly read, and dream of the soft lookYour eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.W. B. Yeats, When You are Old.

Even more striking is the difference of rhythmical effect observable in reading, one after the other, a page of Pope's heroic couplets in the Essay on Man, of Keats's same couplets in Endymion, and Browning's same couplets in My Last Duchess.

While the formal pattern remains fixed and inflexible, over its surface may be embroidered variations of almost illimitable subtlety and change; butalways the formal pattern must be visible, audible. The poet's skill lies largely in preserving a balance of the artistic principles of variety in uniformity and uniformity in variety. Once he lets go the design, he loses his metrical rhythm and writes mere prose. Once we cease to hear and feel the faint regular beating of the metronome we fail to get the enjoyment of sound that it is the proper function of metre to give. On the otherhand, if the mechanical design stands out too plainly, if the beat of the metronome becomes for an instant more prominent than the music of the words, then also the artistic pleasure is gone, for too much uniformity is as deadly to art as too much variety.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,The plowman homeward plods his weary way,And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

These verses are regular (as is appropriate for the theme), and vary comparatively little from the formal metrical pattern. The coincidence of prose rhythm and metrical rhythm is almost complete. Yet by means of small subtleties of variation in pause, word order, long and short syllables, Gray always saves the poem from monotony. How far the variations may be carried, how much the ear may be depended upon for rhythmic substitution and syncopation, is determined by many things. Certain lines are unmistakably metrical to all ears and in all positions—such as these verses of Gray's Elegy. Certain lines are generally felt to contain daring variations and yet be successful and effective—such as

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay.Shelley, Ode to the West Wind.Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn.Tennyson, Small Sweet Idyl, in The Princess.

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay.Shelley, Ode to the West Wind.

Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn.Tennyson, Small Sweet Idyl, in The Princess.

Other lines stretch our metrical sense to the breaking point, and according to individual taste we judge them bold or too bold—such as Tennyson's

Take your own time, Annie, take your own time.Enoch Arden.

or Milton's

Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.Paradise Lost, VI, 866.

In all of these examples the metrical pattern is the same: five consecutive iambs. The modifications illustrate plainly the extraordinary flexibility of language.

Time and Stress.Probably the most disputed point in all prosodic theory is the relative importance of time (duration, syllabic length) and stress (accent) in English verse. Some writers have attempted to explain all the phenomena entirely by stress; others entirely by time. Neither side, of course, has been very successful.[25]The difficulty is partly one of theory and partly one of correct analysis of the facts. Thanks, now, to the attention paid in recent decades by the experimental psychologists to rhythm and metre, we are in a position to reach at least approximate clearness on this vexed point. Since the older theorists have mostly started either from the traditional conceptions of classical prosody or from examination of but a part of the phenomena, their work may be left out of account here. Certainly no great blame attaches to them; they are the Bacons and Harveys and Newtons of metrical science. A more nearly correct analysis of the facts is possible now because with the minutely accurateinstruments of the scientists to aid us we need no longer trust to the uncertainties of perception and statement of separate individuals. Of course no one today holds the extreme belief that science explains everything; and of course the scientific experiments on the nature and effect of rhythm must have a starting point in the personal equations of those who have submitted themselves to the scientific tests. With all its patience and thoroughness of investigation, experimental psychology is only now establishing itself. But it does offer, on this one mooted point of versification, invaluable help.

The theory presented in the previous pages states that sound rhythm consists of a succession of points of emphasis separated by equal time divisions. This is the ideal rhythm. When subjected to the conditions of metrical language it suffers two alterations. In the first place, our notions of time are extremely untrustworthy. Days vanish in a moment and they drag like years. Very few of us can estimate correctly the passage of five minutes: syllables are uttered in a few hundredths of a second. We are satisfied with the accuracy shown by an orchestra in keeping time; but if we took a metronome to the concert we should find the orchestra very deficient in its sense of time. The fact is that the orchestra knows better than the metronome, that perfectly accurate time intervals become unpleasantly monotonous, that we rebel at 'mechanical' music. Thus the time divisions of pleasurable rhythm are not mathematically equal, nor even necessarily approximately equal, but are such as arefelt to be equal.The second alteration of ideal rhythm is that which results from the conformity of fluid language to its metrical mould. This metrical scheme, based theoretically on equal time units marked by equal stresses, becomes a compromise of uneven stresses and apparently equal time divisions.

Almost every line of verse is a proof of this: both the fact and the explanation are clear when approached from the right angle, and may be tested by carefully prepared statistics. In the following examples the figures beneath each syllable give the time of utterance in tenths and one-hundredths of a second; the figures in parentheses represent pauses.[26]The first, from Paradise Lost, II, 604-614, is in blank verse, with five iambic feet to a line; the second, from Shelley's The Cloud, is apparently irregular, but the basis is clearly anapestic. The ideal rhythm or metrical pattern of the first is

◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷ ◡ _̷

regularly repeated. The ideal rhythm of the second is

◡ ◡ _̷ ◡ ◡ _̷ ◡ ◡ _̷ ◡ ◡ _̷◡ ◡ _̷ ◡ ◡ _̷ (◡ ◡ _̷)

six times repeated.[27]

They fer-ry o-ver this Le-the-an sound.29 .36 .15 .24 .13 .26 .23 .23 .23 .62 (.18)Both to and fro, their sor-row to aug-ment,.41 .27 .2 .63 (.36).26 .4 .16 .24 .32 .43 (.6)And wish and strug-gle, as they pass, to reach.2 .47 .25 .33 .25 (.13) .21 .21 .57 (.4) .24 .35The tempt-ing stream, with one small drop to lose.14 .32 .3 .69 (.44) .24 .37 .53 .47 (.09) .21 .47In sweet for-get-ful-ness all pain and woe,.2 .37 .19 .28 .17 .25 (.1) .39 .53 .17 .52 (.59)All in one mo-ment and so near the brink;.42 .2 .21 .34 .3 (.47) .27 .28 .37 .11 .57 (.49)But Fate with-stands, and, to op-pose the attempt.23 .39 .28 .66 (.49).22 .18 .11 .48 .23 .52 (.33)Me-du-sa with Gor-go-nian ter-ror guards.15 .33 .15 .21 .3 .3 .23 .28 .21 .51The ford, and of it-self the wa-ter flies.14 .6 (.3) .27 .2 .2 .48 .13 .25 .22 .64All taste of liv-ing wight, as once it fled.26 .48 .16 .19 .18 .43 (.5) .29 .39 .16 .43The lip of Tan-ta-lus..1 .32 .14 .33 .15 .3-----------------I bring fresh showers for the thirst-ing flowers,.25 .35 .15 .8 (.15) .15 .15 .3 .2 .6 (.2)From the seas and the streams;.2 .18 .42 .15 .15 .62 (.75)I bear light shade for the leaves when laid.2 .35 .3 .5 .18 .18 .34 .4 .45In their noon-day dreams..18 .2 .22 .2 .7 (.6)From my wings are shak-en the dews that wak-en.25 .35 .44 .22 .3 .2 .1 .6 .2 .25 .25The sweet buds ev-ery one,.1 .35 .53 (.15) .2 .21 .5 (.55)When rocked to rest on their moth-er's breast,.18 .47 .2 .4 (.2) .18 .2 .22 .18 .47 (.4)As she danc-es a-bout the sun..2 .2 .45 .2 .1 .25 .2 .5 (.85)I wield the flail of the lash-ing hail,.22 .22 .1 .5 .15 .15 .25 .15 .45 (.3)

And whit-en the green plains un-der,.2 .22 .18 .1 .32 .5 .2 .2 (.5)And then a-gain I dis-solve in rain,.22 .38 .1 .55 .15 .2 .7 .15 .55 (.07)And laugh as I pass in thun-der..2 .4 (.2) .15 .18 .39 .18 .22 .25

Two facts emerge from these statistics at once: (1) that in about 90 per cent of the feet the ◡ or unstressed element is shorter than the _̷ or stressed element, or, in other words, stress and syllabic length nearly always coincide; and (2) that while there is very great variation in the absolute lengths of short syllables and long syllables, the proportion of average lengths is about 2:4.[28]One need not suppose that the conscious mind always hears or thinks it hears the syllables pronounced with these quantitative proportions. Though we deceive ourselves very readily in the matter of time, it is not true that we have no sense of duration whatever. Quite the contrary. Our cerebral metronome is set when we read verse for about .6 seconds for a foot (.2 seconds for the unstressed element;.4 seconds for the stressed element). If we read faster or more slowly the proportions remain the same. When, however, in Paradise Lost, II, 607,

◡ _̷ ◡ _̷with one small drop.24 .37 .53 .47

the normal proportions are so patently departed from that the theoretically unstressed syllablesmallis actually longer than the theoretically stressed syllabledrop, and the footsmall droptakes 1. second, or 2/5 longer than the average foot beside it (with one, .61 seconds)—when divergences so great as this are both possible and pleasurable, the conclusion should be, not that the ear makes no recognition of the time, but that it is capable, by syncopation and substitution, of adjusting itself to a very great possibility of variation without losing hold of the rhythmic pattern. Looked at from one point of view, the extreme variations would appear to be irregularities and warrant the judgment that no element of duration exists as a principle of English verse; but from the right point of view these variations mean only that the metrical time unit is extraordinarily elastic while still remaining a unit; that the ear is willing and able to pay very high for thevarietyin uniformity which it requires.

Pause.The time element of English verse is affected also by different kinds of pauses. Three kinds may be distinguished, two of which belong properly to prose rhythm as well. (1) Thelogicalpause is that cessation of sound which separates the logical components of speech. It helps hold together the members of a unit and separates the units from each other, and never occurs unless a break in the meaning is possible. It is usually indicated in printed language by punctuation. (2) Therhythmicalpause separates the breath groups of a sentence and therefore concerns language chiefly as aseries of sounds independent for the most part of logical content or symbolism. Though its origin is primarily physiological, it soon induces a psychological state and results in an overuse or overdevelopment of the cerebral metronome. Both readers and writers get into a certain 'swing' which turns to monotony and sing-song in reading and to excessive uniformity of sentence length and structure in writing—what is called a jog-trot style. This pause as it affects the reading of verse is only slightly dependent upon the logical content of words, for it takes its pace, especially in rimed verse, from the normal line length, and tends to make every line sound like every other, regardless of the meaning. (3)Metricalpause is primarily independent of the other two, but most frequently falls in with them. It belongs to the formal metrical pattern, and serves usually to mark off the line units. There is thus theoretically a pause at the end of every line, and a greater pause at the end of every stanza. When verses are 'run on,' i. e., when there is no logical pause at the end, many readers omit the metrical pause or reduce it to a minimum. Others, whose rhythmic sense is very keen, preserve it, making it very slight but still perceptible. The metrical pause is greatly emphasized by rime.

There are two other time elements in English verse, related in different ways to each of these three pauses, one which is nearly equivalent to the musicalrest; the other which is nearly equivalent to the musicalhold. The latter is common to both verse and prose, and is emotional or elocutionary in origin; "If....," "Well——?" "'Theseroses?' she drawled." In verseit often coincides with and supports a metrical pause, especially on rime words. Many readers in fact combine the hold and the metrical pause or use them interchangeably. The former, therest, is a pause used to take the place of an unstressed element. As such, however, it does not altogether compensate the break in the normal time-space, but fills in the omission sufficiently to preserve the rhythm of the verse.

These various pauses are all well illustrated in Tennyson's lyric, Break, Break, Break.

Break, break, break,.5 (.6) .5 (.28) .6 (.3)On thy cold grey stones, O sea!.35 .3 .6 .5 .7 (.15) .3 .55 (.65)And I would that my tongue could ut-ter.2 .2 .4 .2 .25 .4 .18 .18 .3 (.35)The thoughts that a-rise in me.2. .5 .3 .2 .4 .3 .5 (.8)O, well for the fish-er-man's boy.6 .6 .2 .2 .22 .15 .45 .6 (.55)That he shouts with his sis-ter at play!.2 .18 .55 .25 .2 .35 .18 .2 .6 (.9)O, well for the sail-or lad.5 (.3) .61 .25 .3 .55 .2 .5 (.45)That he sings in his boat on the bay..18 .18 .55 .25 .2 .45 .15 .15 .6

Logical pauses occur at the end of ll. 2, 4, 6, 8; and probably afterstonesin l. 2. Afterstonesthere would be also a rhythmic pause, but it is reinforced and practically replaced by the logical pause. Another rhythmic pause might occur aftertonguein l. 3, but it is absorbed partly by the length oftongueand partly by the necessity of preserving the line rhythm throughutter. It will be felt, however, if the lines are read thus:

And I would that my tongueCould utter the thoughtsThat ariseIn me.

The metrical pause appears clearly afterutterin l. 3. The pauses afterboy(l. 5) andlad(l. 7) are both metrical and logical. The hold is illustrated byOin l. 5 and l. 7.[29]The rest appears distinctly in l. 1. From reading the whole poem we know that the movement is anapestic. The pattern rhythm for the first line would be

◡ ◡ _̷ ◡ ◡ _̷ ◡ ◡ _̷Break break break

The number of syllables is three, whereas the other lines have from seven to nine syllables each. That is, before eachbreaktwo light syllables, or their time equivalent, are lacking, their place being supplied by the rest-pause (which is also logical and emotional).[30]

The reader may analyze the comparative lengths of foot, line, pause, and rest in the following record:[31]

Kent-ish Sir Bing stood for the king,.4 .32 .46 .8 (.2) .5 .18 .16 .8 (.6)Bid-ding the crop-head-ed par-lia-ment swing;.26 .2 .12 .45 .3 .2 .4 .1 .35 .72 (.6)And, press-ing a troop un-ab-le to stoop,.2 .38 .12 .1 .55 (.2) .18 .26 .12 .2 .58 (.5)And see the rogues flour-ish and hon-est folk droop;.22 .35 .15 .5 .6 .2 (.2) .26 .45 .18 .35 .48 (.75)Marched then a-long fif-ty-score strong.52 .22 .12 .8 (.14) .35 .25 .5 .7 (.7)Great-heart-ed gent-le-men, sing-ing this song..35 .3 .2 .3 .12 .3 (.45) .44 .25 .28 .68 (.9)God for King Charles! Pym and such carles.6 .46 .5 .8 (.5) .38 .26 .3 .85 (.42)To the Dev-il that prompts them their treas-on-ous parles!.18 .18 .35 .25 .42 .5 .38 .2 .38 .1 .32 .75 (.55)Cav-a-liers, up! Lips from the cup..35 .15 .5 (.4) .5 (.4) .6 .3 .12 .4

Pitch.Pitch appears to be sometimes a determining element in rhythm, as has been shown above; but since its chief function in verse is that of supporting the recognized determinants and adding grace-notes to the music, it is omitted here and discussed in Chapter V, below.

Balance of Forces.It is not to be inferred from the foregoing sections that the basis of English metre is time. For the basis of English metre is dual: time and stress are inextricable. Beneath all metrical language runs the invisible current of time, but the surface is marked by stress. The warp of the metrical fabric is time; stress is the woof. And from the surface, of course, only the woof is visible. Moreover, the poet's point of view in composing and generally the reader'spoint of view in reading has always been that of the 'stresser.' No poet ever wrote to a metronome accompaniment; extremely few readers are fully conscious—few can be, from the nature of our human sense of time—of the temporal rhythm that underlies verse. Thus it has come about, historically, that modern English verse is written and regarded as a matter of stress only, because to the superficial view stress is predominant.[32]Probably the truth is that most poets compose verse with the ideal metrical scheme definitely in mind and trust (as they well may) to their rhythmical instinct for the rest. Whatever device they employ for keeping the pattern always before them, they do keep it distinctly before them—except perhaps in the simpler measures which run easily in the ear—and build from it as from a scaffolding. They may not know and may not need to know that this metrical scheme does itself involve equal time units as well as equal stresses. They vary and modulate both time and stress according to the thought and feeling the words are asked to express. And though it is a point on which no one can have a dogmatic opinion,one inclines to the belief that usually the finest adaptations of ideas and words to metre are spontaneous and intuitive. Skill is the result of habit and training, and metrical skill like any other; but there is also the faculty divine. One is suspicious of the

Laborious Orient ivory sphere in sphere;

for when we can see how the trick is done we lose the true thrill.

It would be absurd to imagine a prosody which was independent of its own materials. It would be absurd therefore not to find in all language the elements out of which verse is made. Indeed, M. Jourdain, having recovered from his first shock on learning that he had actually been talking prose, must prepare for a second: that he has actually been talking potential verse. The three acoustic properties of speech—duration, intensity, pitch—modified by the logical and emotional content of which the sounds are symbolic, combine to produce an incredibly subtle and elastic medium which the poet moulds to his metrical form. In this process of moulding and adjustment, each element, under the poet's deft handling, yields somewhat to the other, the natural rhythm of language and the formal rhythm of metre; and the result is a delicate, exquisite compromise. When we attempt to analyze it, its finer secrets defy us, but the chief fundamental principles we can discover, and their more significant manifestations we can isolate and learn to know. In all the arts there is a point at which technique merges with idea and conceals the heart of its mystery. The greatestpoetry is not always clearly dependent upon metrical power, but it is rarely divorced from it. No one would venture to say how much the metre has to do with the beauty of the

magic casements opening on the foamOf perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Line Length.A line of English verse may contain from one to eight feet. Theoretically, of course, more than eight feet would be possible; but just as there are sounds which the human ear cannot hear and colors which the eye cannot see, so there appears to be a limit beyond which we do not recognize the line as a unit. The most frequently used lines are of four and five feet, most conveniently called, respectively, 4-stress and 5-stress lines;[33]those of one, two, and three feet tend to become jerky, those of more than five to break up into smaller units.

Line Movement.The movement of a line is determined primarily by the foot of which it is composed. It is iambic, trochaic, anapestic, dactylic, according as the metrical pattern is made up of iambs, trochees, etc. Thus

That time of year them mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs that shake against the cold—Bare ruin'd choirs where late the sweet birds sang.Shakespeare, Sonnet 73.

is plainly iambic.

You and I would rather see that angel,Painted by the tenderness of Dante,Would we not?—than read a fresh Inferno.You and I will never see that picture.While he mused on love and Beatrice,While he soften'd o'er his outlined angel,In they broke, those "people of importance":We and Bice bear the loss forever.Browning, One Word More.

You and I would rather see that angel,Painted by the tenderness of Dante,Would we not?—than read a fresh Inferno.

You and I will never see that picture.While he mused on love and Beatrice,While he soften'd o'er his outlined angel,In they broke, those "people of importance":We and Bice bear the loss forever.Browning, One Word More.

is plainly trochaic.

I have found out a gift for my fair,I have found where the wood-pigeons breed.Shenstone, Pastoral Ballad.

is plainly anapestic.

Take her up tenderly,Lift her with care;Fashion'd so slenderly,Young, and so fair!Hood, Bridge of Sighs.

is plainly dactylic.

But very few poems conform exactly to the metrical pattern. For example, Blake's

Tiger, tiger, burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry?

seems clearly to be trochaic; yet the last trochee of each line lacks its unstressed element, and the fourth line has an extra-metrical syllable,Could. By itself the fourth line would be called iambic: in this context it iscalled trochaic with 'anacrusis,' i. e., with one or more extra-metrical syllables at the beginning.[34]Or again in Clough's stanza,

And not by eastern windows only,When daylight comes, comes in the light;In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!But westward, look, the land is bright!'Say Not, the Struggle Naught Availeth.'

the movement is clearly iambic, yet the first and third lines have an extra-metrical syllable at the end. This is called 'feminine ending.'

Moreover, sometimes the word or phrase rhythm clashes with the metrical rhythm and makes the resultant seem doubtful. Thus

Of hand, of foot, of lips, of eye, of brow.Shakespeare, Sonnet 106.I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance.Tennyson, The Brook.

Of hand, of foot, of lips, of eye, of brow.Shakespeare, Sonnet 106.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance.Tennyson, The Brook.

are unmistakably iambic, and Wordsworth's

Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies.To the Small Celandine.

is unmistakably trochaic; but in Tennyson's

This pretty, puny, weakly little one.Enoch Arden.With rosy slender fingers backward drew.Œnone.

This pretty, puny, weakly little one.Enoch Arden.

With rosy slender fingers backward drew.Œnone.

there are metrically five iambs in each line, but also in each four words that are trochaic. The result is a conflictof rhythms, a kind of syncopation, which produces a very pleasing variant of the formal rhythm.

Furthermore, in a passage like the following, which everyone recognizes as exquisitely musical, it is not obvious whether the rhythm is iambic or anapestic or trochaic.

When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,The mother of months in meadow or plainFills the shadows and windy placesWith lisp of leaves and ripple of rain;And the brown bright nightingale amorousIs half assuaged for Itylus,For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces,The tongueless vigil, and all the pain.Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon.

If the first two syllables be regarded as anacrusis, the first line would be trochaic, with a dactyl substituted for a trochee in the second foot. The third line is apparently trochaic. But only three lines of the eight have a feminine or trochaic ending, and all except the third have iambic or rising rhythm in the first foot; so that it is more simple and natural to consider the last syllable of the first, third, and seventh lines as extra-metrical, and call the rhythm iambic-anapestic, or rising. Since the ◡_̷ and ◡◡_̷ are both rising rhythm they may be readily substituted one for the other—the appearance of equal time values being preserved—without disturbing the musical flow of sounds. Thus of the thirty-two feet in the eight lines, seventeen are iambs and eleven anapests, two are weak iambs (-orous, -ylus), one a spondee (bright night-), and one monosyllabic with a rest (‸Fills). Tennyson's Vastness mayalso be studied for its combinations of trochees, dactyls, and spondees. Here is one stanza:

Stately purposes, valour in battle, glorious annals of army and fleet,Death for the right cause, death for the wrong cause, trumpets of victory, groans of defeat.

Similar combinations, still freer, with frequent anacrusis as well, are characteristic of Swinburne's Hesperia; e. g.—

The first line of a poem is not always a good criterion of the metre of the whole poem—though Poe declared that it should be. For Tennyson's The Higher Pantheism is chiefly in triple falling rhythm, but it begins

The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains.

The first stanza of Campbell's famous Battle of the Baltic runs:

Of Nelson and the North,Sing the glorious day's renown,When to battle fierce came forthAll the might of Denmark's crown,And her arms along the deep proudly shone;By each gun the lighted brand,In a bold determined hand,And the Prince of all the landLed them on.

Here the first line might be 3-stress or 2-stress; the second, third, fourth, sixth, seventh, eighth might have three stresses or four; the fifth five or six; the ninth two or one. It is not, in fact, until we reach the

Again! again! again!

of the fourth stanza that we are sure how the poem ought to be read. But Campbell was not a faultless artist. There is the same metrical ambiguity, however, in Tennyson's

Come into the garden, Maud,

until the second line shows us we should read it with three stresses, not four. There is a curious verse in Gay's Beggar's Opera which well illustrates the necessity of consulting the context to determine the pattern, for it can, taken by itself, be scanned in three different ways:

How happy could I be with either.Air XXXV.

viz.,◡_̷◡◡_̷◡_̷◡_̷◡or◡_̷◡◡◡_̷◡_̷◡or◡_̷◡◡_̷◡◡◡_̷◡.

But sometimes it is difficult, if not impossible, to say whether a line or series of lines is in rising or falling rhythm, or what sort of foot is predominant—in other words, what is the formal metrical pattern. This difficulty is, of course, no fault of the poet's: it lies in the complexity of the phenomena, and is after all a weakness of our power of analysis. In the spectrum blue merges into green, red into yellow, and though we invent names for various tints, others still escape classification. And just as some verses combine iambic andanapestic (rising), or dactylic and trochaic (falling) movements, so others combine rising and falling rhythms. For example,

The mountain sheep are sweeter,But the valley sheep are fatter;We therefore deemed it meeterTo carry off the latter.Peacock, War-song of Dinas Vawr, from The Misfortunes of Elphin.

This may be trochaic with anacrusis or iambic with feminine endings, but neither quite adequately describes it. Is Shelley's To Night prevailingly iambic or trochaic? All of the twenty-five long lines end with an iamb, but only eleven begin with rising rhythm (thirteen begin with falling or trochaic rhythm, and one is ambiguous). Two of the short lines are definitely iambic, the other eight are doubtful, but apparently trochaic. If it is read as iambic, eleven of the hundred feet in the long lines will be 'irregular'; if it is read as trochaic, eleven likewise will be 'irregular.' Milton's L'Allegro and Il Penseroso contain lines that are purely iambic, as

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