'■'> ::^'>>;'' 
 
 OF 
 
 A PR1:MER| 
 
 E N G LI S ft VE R S E 
 
 Corson' 
 
 
 
 
 
 ¥';•;:"■ 
 
 
 mM
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 I"
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 - ' "AY * ,93, I ^„, , . 
 
 STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, 
 
 X 
 
 L ' '
 
 Primer of English Verse 
 state normal school, 
 
 LOS AKGH^-EB. -:-OAL 
 
 CHIEFLY IN ITS /ESTHETIC AND 
 ORGANIC CHARACTER 
 
 BY 
 
 HIRAM CORSON, LL.D. 
 
 Professor of English Literature in the Cornell University 
 
 ^', 
 
 BOSTOxN, U.S.A. 
 PUBLISHED BY GINN & COMPANY 
 
 1893
 
 (.'OI-VRK.MT, 1891, 
 
 »v IIIKAM CORSON. 
 All Ri(.ht> Rksehvep. 
 
 Tvf^.tAriiv tv I ^ rt-Miisr. 9i Cn., TlniTOfj, t'.S.A.
 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PACES 
 
 Poetic Unities ;.nd their Origin 1,2 
 
 Enforcing, Fusing, and Combining Principles uk Poetic 
 
 Unities 3-31 
 
 a. Accent 3, 4 
 
 b. Melody 4-21 
 
 c. Harmony and Rhyme ; 21-31 
 
 Effects produced by Exceptional and Varied Metres.. 32-34 
 Effects produced by a Shifting of the Regular Ac- 
 cent, AND by Additional Unaccented Syllables. . 35-50 
 
 Examples of Organic Variety of Measures 51-68 
 
 From Shakespeare 5 '-56 
 
 " Tennyson's ' Princess ' 56-63 
 
 Tennyson's ' Idylls of the King ' 63-68 
 
 Some of Tennyson's Stanzas 69-86 
 
 The Stanza of ' In Memoriam ' 69-77 
 
 " ' The Two Voices ' 78, 79 
 
 I'he Palace of An ' 79-S4 
 
 " " " 'The Daisy' and of 'To Rev. F. D. Mau- 
 rice* 84-80 
 
 iii
 
 iv TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PACES 
 
 The Spenserian Stanza 87-107 
 
 The I'ictorial Adaptcdncss of the Spenserian Stanza 100-106 
 
 The Si'ENSERiAN Stanza as employed by Subsequent 
 
 Poets 108-133 
 
 Thomson's 'Castle of Indolence' 109-111 
 
 Shelley's ' Laon and Cythna ' 1 1 1 -1 1 7 
 
 Shelley's * Adonais ' 1 1 7-1 20 
 
 Keats's ' Eve of St. Agnes ' 1 20- 1 25 
 
 Byron's * Childe Harold ' '-5-»3' 
 
 Tennyson's ' Lotos- Eaters ' ' 32i • 33 
 
 The Influence of the Spenserian Stanza on Oiiikk 
 
 Modes of Stanza Structure 1 34-142 
 
 The Sonnet •43-i85 
 
 (JENFJIAL REMARKi O.N ULANK VeRSE... 186-I92 
 
 Milton's Bi^nk Verse 193-220 
 
 Postscript on Some Blank Verse since Mu.ton 220-226 
 
 Index 227-232
 
 A PRIMER OF ENGLISH VERSE. 
 
 oXKc 
 
 POETIC UNITIES AND THEIR ORIGIN. 
 
 THE principal coefficients of poetic expression 
 are Rhythm, Metre, Stanza, Rhyme, Assonance, 
 Alliteration, Melody, and Harmony, which seem to be 
 all due, when they are vital and organic, to the unify- 
 ing action of feeling or emotion. When strong feeling 
 is in any way objectified, a unifying process sets in. 
 The insulated intellect, in its action, tends rather in 
 an opposite direction — that is, in an analytic direc- 
 tion. It matters not upon what feeling or emotion is 
 projected, or with what it is incorporated ; it will be 
 found that in all cases it is unifying or, to use a word 
 coined by Coleridge, esemplastic, in its action. If we 
 look at a landscape coldly or indifferently, we may 
 be cognizant of its various elements or phases ; but 
 there is little or no effort to grasp it as a whole, and 
 to subject all its elements to some principle of harmony 
 or fusion. At another time, when our feelings are 
 active, and the intellect is in a more or less negative 
 state, there will be a spontaneous and, it may be. a 
 quite unconscious effort to ujiify that same landscape, 
 
 I
 
 2 POETIC VXITIES AXD THEIR ORIC/.V. 
 
 to subject all its clcmcnlb u. .mmuc principle of har- 
 mony — to fuse the primal units, so to speak, into 
 one complex unit. It may be that the landscape is 
 composed of very incongruous elements ; but even 
 then, the feelings, if abnormally active, by reason of 
 some associations either of pleasure or pain, or from 
 some other cause, may project upon it a light or a 
 shade that will bind together its otherwise inhar- 
 monious features. 
 
 Now as soon as feeling is embodied in speech, and 
 to the degree to which it is embodied, we find that 
 speech is worked up, more or less distinctly or em- 
 phatically, into unities of various kinds. The primal 
 unit, the unit of measure, we call /<?<'/, which is made 
 up of two or more vocal impulses, according to the 
 nature of the feeling which evolves it. This primal 
 unit is combined into a higher unity, which is called 
 verse, and this, in its turn, is combined into a still 
 higher unity, which is called stanza, and so on. 
 Rhythm is a succession and involution of unities, that 
 is, unities within unities. The term is as applicable 
 to a succession of verses as to a succession of feet, 
 and to a succession of stanzas as to a succession of 
 verses.
 
 II. 
 
 ENFORCIXG. FUSING, AND COMBINING PRINCIPLES 
 OF POETIC UNITIES. 
 
 a. Accent. 
 
 NOW we find that each class of unities has its 
 enforcing, or fusing, or combining principle — 
 the agency by which it is more or less strongly marked 
 and individualized ; that of the primal unit, foot, we 
 call accent. What accent really is, it does not now 
 concern us to consider. There is not a general agree- 
 ment among prosodists as to ^c/iat it really is. But 
 whatever it is, whether the vowel or syllable on which 
 it occurs is distinguished from the rest of the word 
 by an increased sharpness of tone, or by an increased 
 force or loudness, or whether it unites both, it is a 
 sufficiently valid phenomenon, for any one with ears 
 to appreciate its function in modern verse. When 
 the following lines are pronounced, everybody knows 
 which syllables are distinguished bv the accent : 
 
 At the close of the dav. when the hamlet is still, 
 And mortals the sweets of torgettulness prove, . 
 Wh^n ijaught but the torre*ht Ts heard on the hill^ 
 And naught but tlie nightingaTe's song in the grove, etc. 
 
 Every kind of foot consists of one, and only one, 
 accented syllable and one or two unaccented. The 
 principal feet in P^nglish verse are : 
 
 3
 
 A ENFORCING, FUSING, AND COMBINING 
 
 1. An accented syllable preceded by one unac- 
 cented ; 
 
 2. An accented syllable followed by one unac- 
 cented ; 
 
 3. An accented syllable jireceded by two unac- 
 cented ; 
 
 4. An accented syllable followed by two unac- 
 cented ; 
 
 5. An accented syllable preceded and followed by 
 an unaccented. « 
 
 I f rt be used to represent an accented syllable, and 
 X, an unaccented, these several feet may be indicated 
 as follows : \,xa\ 2, ax; 3,-1.17?; 4,^x1'; 5, .tv/a.' 
 \^^'^ A v<-rsi'rnn>;i'stincr nf twn fe^iL or measures, is Called 
 *^^^ftimctcr ; of tliiix^ a trime.ter; of four, a tetrameter; 
 of five, a jjcntameter; of six, a hexameter; and so 
 on. An xa pentameter may be indicated as a "^xa; 
 an ax tetrameter, as a ^ax\ an xxa tetrameter, as a 
 ^xxa; an axx dimeter, as a 2axx\ and so on. 
 
 A stanza consisting of four' 5.17; verses, that of 
 Gray's ' Klegy,' for example, may be indicated as 4 
 (5.171). A sonnet may be indicated as 14(5^77); 
 the Spenserian stanza, as tS(5477) I Gxa. 
 
 l>. MF.r.oiiv. 
 
 The lusin;^ or combining principle or agency of a 
 verse is Aftlody. We often meet with verses which 
 scan, as we say, all right, and yet we feel that they 
 have no vitality as verses. This may, in most cases, be 
 
 ' Tlii* i» I inclh<Kl of metrical notaliun, in his ' llandlwuk of 
 
 thr l'!rH^li<tli I . • .' 
 
 V^'
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 5 
 
 attributed to their purely mechanical or cold-blooded 
 structure. They are not the product of feeling, which 
 attracts to itself (a great fact) vocal elements, either 
 vowels or consonants, which chime well together, and 
 in accord with the feeling ; but they are rather the 
 product of literary skill. The writer had no song, no 
 music in his soul, when he composed them, and he 
 should have written, if he wrote at all, in straight- 
 forward prose. But when we read such verses as the 
 following, we know what must have been back of 
 their composition : 
 
 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 
 — Merchant of Venice, 5. i. 54-57. 
 
 Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite 
 
 Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. 
 
 News from the humming city comes to it 
 
 In sound of funeral or of marriage bells ; 
 
 And, sitting muffled in dark leaves, you hear 
 
 The wmdy clanging of the minster clock ; 
 
 Although between it and the garden lies 
 
 A league of grass, washed by a slow broad stream. 
 
 That, stirred with languid pulses of the oar. 
 
 Waves all its lazy lilies, and creeps on, 
 
 Barge-laden, to three arches of a bridge 
 
 Crowned with the minster towers. The fields between 
 
 Are dewy fresh, browsed by deep-uddered kine, 
 
 And all about, the large lime feathers low. 
 
 The lime, a summer home of murmurous wings. 
 
 — Tennyson's The Gardiner's Dauf^hter; or, the Pictures. 
 
 Oh, good gigantic smile o' the brown old earth, 
 This autumn morning ! How he .sets his bones
 
 ENFORCING, FUSING, AND COMBINING 
 
 To \y,\sk \ ihc sun, and tlinisls out knees and tcct 
 /•i;r the ripple to run in>er in Us mirth ; 
 Listening tlie wliilc, where on the heap ot stones 
 The white breast of the sea-lark twitters sweet. 
 
 — Brovvninc's yanifs Lff's H'i/t. VII. Among tin Rocks. 
 
 With heart a.s cahn as lakes that sleep. 
 
 In frosty moonlight glistening; 
 Or mountain rivers, where they creep 
 Along a channel smooth and deej). 
 
 To their own far-off murmurs listening. 
 
 Wordsworth's Memory (7th Sianza). 
 
 And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass. 
 
 All in a misty moonshine, unawares 
 
 Had trodden that crowned skeleton, and tiit- skull 
 
 IJrake from the nape, and from the skull the crown 
 
 Rolled into light, and turning on its rims. 
 
 Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : 
 
 And down the shingly .scaur he plunged, and caught. 
 
 And set it on his head, and in his heart 
 
 fk-ard murmurs. Lo. thou likewise shalt be king. 
 
 — Tensvsoss Elaine. 
 
 The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks : 
 
 The long day wanes : the slow moon climbs : the deep 
 
 Moans round with many voices. 
 
 — Tennyson's Ulytses. 
 
 The mountain wooded to the peak, the lawns 
 
 And winding glades high uj) like ways to Heaven. 
 
 The slender coco's droojjing crown of plumes, 
 
 The lightning flash of insect and of bird. 
 
 The lustre of the long convolvulu.ses 
 
 That coiled around the stately stems, and ran 
 
 Kv'n to the limit of the land, the glows 
 
 And glories of the broad belt of the world. 
 
 All these he saw ; but what he fain had seen 
 
 He could not see, the kindly human face. 
 
 Nor ever hear a kindly voice, but heard
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 7 
 
 The myriad shriek of wheeling ocean-fowl. 
 
 The league-long roller thundering on the reef, 
 
 The moving whisper of huge trees that branched 
 
 And blossomed in the zenith, or the sweep 
 
 Of some precipitous rivulet to the wave, 
 
 As down the shore he ranged, or all day long 
 
 Sat often in the seaward-gazing gorge, 
 
 A shipwrecked sailor, waiting for a sail : 
 
 No sail from day to day, but every day 
 
 The sunrise broken into scarlet shafts 
 
 Among the palms and ferns and precipices ; 
 
 The blaze upon the waters to the east ; 
 
 The blaze upon his island overhead ; 
 
 The blaze upon the waters to the west ; 
 
 Then the great stars that globed tliemselves in Heaven, 
 
 The hollower-bellowing ocean, and again 
 
 The scarlet shafts of sunrise — but no sail. 
 
 — Tennyson's Enoch A rden. 
 
 Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
 Had in her sober livery all things clad : 
 Silence accompanied : for beast and l)ird. 
 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests. 
 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale : 
 She all night long her amorous descant sung : 
 Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament 
 With living .sapphires : Hesperus, that led 
 The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon, 
 Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
 Apparent queen, unveiled her ])eerless light. 
 And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw\ 
 
 — Paradise Lost, iv. 598-609. 
 
 Immediately the mountains huge appear 
 Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave 
 Into the clouds ; their tops ascend the sky : 
 So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low 
 Down sunk a hollow i)ottom broad and deep. 
 Capacious bed of waters : thither they 
 
 \
 
 g ENFORC/XG, FUSING, AND COMBINING 
 
 Hasted with glad precipitance. uproUed 
 
 As drops on dust conglobing from tlie dry ; 
 
 Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct. 
 
 For haste ; such Hight the great command impressed 
 
 On the swift Hoods : as armies at the call 
 
 Of trumiK't (for of armies thou hast heard) 
 
 Troop to their standard, so the watery throng. 
 
 Wave rolling after wave, where way they found. 
 
 If steep, with torrent ra|)ture, if thro' plain. 
 
 Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill. 
 
 Hut they, or under ground, or circuit wide 
 
 With seriK-nl error wandering, found their way. 
 
 And on the washy ooze deep channels wore.* 
 
 — I'aradise Lost, vii. 385-303. 
 
 Light thickens, and the crow 
 Makes wing to the rooky wood : 
 Ciood things of clay begin to dr()oi)and drowse. 
 Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse. 
 
 — Shakkspeare's Macbeth, 3. a. 50-53. 
 
 Not poppy, nor mandragora. 
 Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world. 
 Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
 Which thou owedst yesterday. 
 
 — Siiakksi-f.akk's Othello, 3. 3. 330-333. 
 
 The busy larke. mess-iger of daye. 
 Saluelh in hire song the morwe gray ; 
 And fyry I'hebus ryseth up so bright. 
 That al the orient laugheth of the light. 
 And with his stremes dryeth in the greves 
 The silver drojK'S, hongyng on the leeves. 
 
 — Chaiichm's I' T , 1493-1498 (llarleian le«l). 
 
 Such pass.'i^cs as these the .studciil .should memo- 
 rize, .ind fre(|iiently repeat, if he would tullivate a 
 sense of melody and harmony 
 
 ' .Sec (<cnc«iH i. 9.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. q 
 
 The principles of melodious combinations of vowels 
 have not yet been established, so far as it is within 
 the possibilities of analysis to establish them. But 
 iny one with an ear for vowel melody can appreciate 
 it in a verse, and could distinguish, perhaps, nice 
 degrees of melody in a number of given verses ranging 
 through a pretty wide gamut. But he would not be 
 able to set forth all the secrets of the different degrees 
 of melody. Yet these secrets are, to some extent, 
 within the possibilities of analysis. A noting of all 
 the more musical lines of Shakespeare, and of a few 
 other great authors, might lead to valuable results 
 toward determining more of the secrets of melodious 
 fusion than we yet possess. 
 
 The melody secured through consonants is, to the 
 general ear, more readily appreciable, and can be 
 more easily explained. Much of it has a physiological 
 basis, depending on the greater or less ease with 
 which the organs of speech articulate certain succes- 
 sive consonants. Though the vowel element plays 
 the main part in the melody and harmony of verse 
 (representing, as it does, the more spiritual element 
 of form), all the great English poets from Chaucer 
 to Tennyson make frequent and effective use of allit- 
 eration. It veins the entire surface of English poetry 
 to an extent but little suspected by most readers. 
 
 There is a great deal of effective alliteration which 
 passes unnoticed by reason of its being upon internal, 
 instead of initial, consonants. It contributes, never- 
 theless, to the melodious fusion of the verse, though 
 it may entirely evade the consciousness as an element 
 of the melody.
 
 lO £XJOAL/\o. iisJXo. AXn COA/fl/X/XG 
 
 From a remark which Chaucer puts into the mouth 
 of his Parson, it has been wrongly inferred that he 
 (Chaucer) had a contempt for alliteration. The Par- 
 son says, in the Prologue to his Tale, ' I can not 
 gestc — rom, ram, ruf — by lettre ' ; but in the next 
 line, he adds, * Nc, god wot, rym holde I but litel 
 bcttrc 
 
 So it might be as fairly inferred that Chaucer held 
 rhyme in small esteem. Hut all the ' Canterbury Tales ' 
 arc in rhyme, except the Parson's Tale, and the 
 Tale of Melibosus, which the poet himself is sup- 
 posed to tell. However Chaucer may have regarded 
 alliteration (it may have been in his mind, it certainly 
 was, identified with the literature which was nearest 
 the people), his own poetry is delicately veined with 
 it throughout. I have noted all the passages in the 
 ' Canterbury Tales ' where it distinctly contributes to 
 the melody and tht resultant suggestivencss of his 
 verse, and such passages number 326. In the descrip- 
 tion of the tournament n the Knights Tale of ' Pala- 
 mon and Arcite,' he uses it with a vigor of effect not 
 surpassed in Knglish poetry : 
 
 The hcraldz laftcn here prikynji up and doun ; 
 
 Now ryn^cde the tromp and clarioun ; 
 
 Ther is nomorc to say. but est and wc>.l 
 
 In Ron the s^)crcs ful .sadly in arest ; 
 
 In jfoth the schann" spore into the side. 
 
 Ther seen men who can juste and who can rydc ; 
 
 Ther schyvcrcn schaftes u|K)n schccldcs tlukke: 
 
 Mr fcclcth thiirf^h the herte-s|>on the prikkf. 
 
 Up sprinjjen s|HTes twenty foot on hij,;htc ; 
 
 (Jut goon the .swcrdi-s .is ilw sil\,i-t tirii;titc
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. n 
 
 The helmes thei to-hewen and to-schrede ; 
 
 Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes reede. 
 
 With mighty maces the bones thay to-breste. 
 
 He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste. 
 
 Ther stomblen steedes stronge, and doun goon alle. 
 
 He rolleth under foot as doth a balle. 
 
 He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun. 
 
 And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun. 
 
 — C. T., 2601-18. 
 
 The alliteration in this passage is organic ; that is, 
 it is an inseparable part of the expression. 
 
 The general character of Chaucer's alliterations is 
 shown in the following verses or bits of verses. 
 Though simple and unobtrusive, they make, here and 
 there, a flitting contribution to the melody of his verse, 
 without, in the least, obtruding themselves upon the 
 consciousness of the reader : smale foweles maken 
 mclodye 1:9;^ to seken straunge strondes 1:13; 
 And though that he were worthy he was wys And of 
 his port as meeke as is a mayde 3 : 68, 69 ; Al ful of 
 f resshe flowres whyte and reede 3 : 90 ; And frenssh 
 she spak ful faire and fetisly 4: 124; A manly man 
 to been an Abbot able 5: 167; whan he rood men 
 myghte his brydel heere Gynglen in a whistlynge 
 wynd als cleere And eek as loude as dooth the Chapel 
 belle 5 : 169-171 ; She hadde passed many a straunge 
 strem 14:464; fful longe were his legges and ful 
 lene 17 : 591 ; ffulfild of Ire and of Iniquitee 28 1940; 
 ther daweth hym no day 48: 1676; With hunte and 
 horn and houndcs hym bisyde 49 : 1678 ; Thebes with 
 hisc olde walles wydc 54: 1880; With knotty knarry 
 
 1 The first number indicates the page of the Six- Text Print of the 
 'Canterbury Talcs,' and the second number the verse.
 
 ,j IlXfORC/XC. FUS/XG, AND COMB/XING 
 
 barcync trees olde 57:1977; The open werre with 
 woundes al biblcdde 58 : 202 ; Armed ful wel with 
 hcrtes stierne and stoutc 62:2154; Hir body wessh 
 with water of a welle 65 : 2283 ; And for to walken 
 in the wodes wilde 66 : 2309 ; oon of the fyrcs queynte 
 And quyked agayn 67 : 2334, 5 ; Of faire yonge 
 fresshe Venus free 68 : 2386 ; As fayn as towel is of 
 the brighte sonne 70:2437; to the paleys rood ther 
 many a route Of lordes 71 : 2494 ; His hardy herte 
 myghte hym hclpe naught 76:2649; His brest to- 
 brosten with his sadel bowe 77:2691; That dwelled 
 in his herte syk and soore 80 : 2804 ; That in that 
 selue groue swoote and grenc 8 ] : 2860-; The gretc 
 toures se we wane and wende 86:3025; His rode 
 was reed hisc cyen greye as goos 95 : 3317 ; sat ay as 
 stille as stoon 100:3472; by hym that harwed helle 
 lOi :35i2; so wilde and wood 3517; I am thy trewe 
 verray wedded wyf 103:3609; He wepeth wcyleth 
 maketh sory cheere He siketh with ful many a sory 
 swogh 104:3618, 19; Wery and weet as beest is in 
 the reyn 118:4107; And forth she sailleth in the 
 sake see 144 :445 ; !•> that the wilde wawes wol hire 
 dryue 144:468; tellen |)lat and pleyn 158:886; She 
 lightc doun and falleth hym to feete 165: 1104; His 
 fader was a man ful free 191:1911; fful many a 
 mayde bright iji hour 192 : 1932; He priketh thurgh 
 a fair forest, 1044; Hy dale and eek by downe 193 
 19H6; And priketh oner stile and stoon 194:1988 
 Toward his weildyng walkynge by the weyc 257 
 3216; ffortune was first freend and sitthe foo 279 
 3913: In pacience ladde a ful symjile l^f 283:4016 
 Which causelh folk to dreden in hir dremes 286 : 41 19;
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 
 
 13 
 
 His herte bathed in a bath of blisse 370: 1253; the 
 foule feend me fecche 380: 1610; With scrippe and 
 tipped staf ytukkcd hye In euery hous he gan to 
 poiire and prye 386:1737, 38; as light as leef on 
 lynde 441 : 121 1 ; To lede in ese and hoolynesse his 
 lyf 453:1628; He wepeth and he wayleth pitously 
 466 : 2072 ; Seken in euery halke and euery heme 
 511:1121; That swich a Monstre or merueille myghte 
 be 517:1344. 
 
 These examples will suffice to show the character 
 of Chaucer's alliterations. The greater part of them 
 may have been written unconsciously by the poet ; 
 his sense of melody often attracting words with the 
 same initial or internal consonants, as well as asso- 
 nantal words, — all contributing, more or less, to the 
 general melody and harmony. Feeling, according 
 to its character, weaves its own vowel and consonantal 
 texture. 
 
 It was Spenser who first, to any extent, exhibited 
 organic alliteration. Alliteration, as employed in 
 Anglo-Saxon poetry,^ and in the ' Vision of William 
 concerning Piers the Plowman,' being, as it is, 
 constantly kept up, is generally a mere mechanical 
 device ; and where it is organically employed, it 
 loses, in consequence of its constant use, its effect as 
 an exceptional consonantal melody. 
 
 ' Professor Earle, in his ' Philology of the English Tongue,' says, 
 in somewhat high style, ' The alliteration of the Saxon poetry not only 
 gratified the ear with a resonance like that of modern rhyme, but it 
 also had the rhetorical advantage of touching the emphatic words; 
 falling as it did on the natural summits of the construction, and tingeing 
 them with the brilliance of a musical reverberation.'
 
 1 4 h.\JORC/XG, J- USING. AXD COMB/X/XG 
 
 There is not much of it in the poor poetry of the 
 interval of nearly two hundred years between the 
 death of Chaucer and the appearance of the * Faerie 
 Queene ' ; and, probably, if the 'Faerie Qucene ' 
 had not been written, alliteration would have been a 
 much less notable feature of English Poetry. Only 
 a poet with the rare metrical sensibility of Sjienser 
 could have taught subsequent poets its subtler capa- 
 bilities. Readers of modern poetry are, perhaps, not 
 generally aware of what a great, though secret, 
 power, alliteration is, in all the best poets from Spen- 
 ser to Tennyson. I do not mean to say that its 
 effect is not felt ; for if it were not, what would be 
 the good of it } but the source of the effect is not 
 generally obser\ed. 
 
 Shakespeare employs alliteration, as he does every 
 other element of expre.s.sivenes.s, that is, just where 
 he should employ it, and nowhere else. It some- 
 times gives the toning to an entire passage ; while at 
 the same time it does not obtrude itself upon the 
 consciousness; as, for e.\amj)lc. in the speech of 
 Oberon to Puck, in ' A Midsummer-Night's Dream,' 
 2. \. 148-164 : 
 
 My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou remcmhercst 
 
 Since once I «>at upon a |)roui()ntory. 
 
 And heard a uit-rmaid on a dolphin's back 
 
 Utterin>{ such (julcet and harmonious breath 
 
 That the ru^Je >ea grew civil at her>onj{ 
 
 And pertain hilars shot ojaUIy from their spheres. 
 
 To hear the sea-maid"s nuisic. 
 
 I'uck. 1 rcmcmljcr. 
 
 Obe. That very lime I .saw. but thou couldst not. 
 Flying between the cold moon and the earth.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 15 
 
 Cupid all armed : a certain aim he took 
 At a fair vestal throned by the west, 
 And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 
 As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts : 
 But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
 Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon, 
 And the imperial votaress passed on 
 In maiden meditation, fancy-free.^ 
 
 But to determine its full importance as an element 
 of melody, there should be a careful noting of all its 
 more incidental effects throughout his plays, such as 
 these, for example : 
 
 As if an angel rtVopped dos^n from the clouds, 
 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 
 And witch the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 — I Henry II'. 4. i. 108-110. 
 
 //arry to Harry shall, /lot /^orse to //or.se, 
 Meet, and ne'er part, till one ^i'rop down a corse. 
 
 — 4. I. 122, 123. 
 
 And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
 I'll </rown my book. 
 
 — Tetiipest 5. I. 56, 57. 
 
 That zips with silver all these frui/-/ree-/'ops. 
 
 — Romeo and Juliet, 2. 2. 108. 
 
 S/ands /ip-/oe on the wisty woun/ain /ops. 
 
 — 3. 5. 10. 
 
 //anting thee /zence with /^unts-up to the day. 
 
 — 3- 5- 34- 
 
 1 The mechanical use of alliteration as distinguished from its organic 
 use is humorously and satirically exhibited in various passages in his plays. 
 See L. L. L. 4. 2. 58-64; M. N. D. i. 2. 33-40; L. L. L. 3. i. 181-185; 
 Tarn, of S. 3. 2. 53 et seq., ' sped with spavins ' etc. K. & J., 2. 4. 41 
 e( seq., 'Laura to his lady' etc. Oth. i. i. 112 et seq., 'you'll have 
 your nephews neigh to you' etc. Oth. 2. 3. 79. (cited in 'The 
 Shakespeare Key,' by Charles and Mary Cowden Clarke, jip. 23, 24).
 
 ,6 ENFORCrXC, IVSfXG, .LVD COMRIXIXG 
 
 The translators of the Kin<; James's Bible some- 
 times make an effective use of it : c.i;., Ps. civ. 3, 4 : 
 •Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the 
 waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who 
 walketh u|)on the wings of the wind : who maketh 
 his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire.' 
 
 There is an interwoven alliteratioa of /, b, and d, 
 in the following, from the Song of Deborah and 
 Barak, Judges v. 2T. 
 
 'At her/eet he /^owed, he/cll, he lay r/own : at her 
 /eet he /'owed, he /ell : where he <^owed, there he /ell 
 //own //ead.' 
 
 Tennyson emjjloys alliteration with that rare artistic 
 skill so characteristic of him. It is generally so 
 worked up with other elements of his melody that it 
 is not noticed or felt as a distinct element. Hut he 
 sometimes, for some special enforcement, brings it 
 prominently forward in his verse. This is especially 
 so in 'The Princess' and in ' Maud.' 
 
 Some of the Songs in ' The Princess,' which come 
 in after the several sections of the poem, owe their 
 toning largely to alliteration and assonance, and to 
 the repetition of the same words. 'The Cradle 
 Song,' ' Sweet and low, sweet and low.' after the 
 second section, and the ' Bugle Song,' ' The splen- 
 dor falls on r.Tstli' walls,' after the third section, are 
 examples. 
 
 Some of the poet's most effective alliterations occur 
 in ' Maud ' : 
 
 The- fcd-r/l)l)C(l ledges drip with a silent horror of blood.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. ly 
 
 And ever he w/uttered and waddened, and ever jt-anned li-ith 
 
 despair, 
 And out he 7<7alked when the wind like a broken worldling Ti-ailed 
 And the flying gold of the mined wood-lands drove thro" the air. 
 
 And my pulses closed their gates with a sliook on my heart as 
 
 I heard 
 The j/inll-edged shr'x&V of a mother divide the .jVaiddering night. 
 
 And lust of gain in the spirit of Cain, is it better or worse 
 Than the //eart of the citizen /«ssing in war on //is own //earth- 
 stone? 
 
 il/ay wake my heart as a willstone, set my /ace as ay?int, 
 C//eat and be «://eated, and die : who knows ? we are ashes and 
 dust. 
 
 When the poor are //ovelled and //ustled together, each jrex, like 
 
 jwine. 
 When only the /edger /ives, and when only not all men /ie. 
 
 To/estle a /oisoned /Poison behind his crimson lights. 
 
 And rave at the /ie and the /iar, ah God, as he used to rave. 
 
 W-^ere it not wise if 1 y7ed /roni the //ace and the /it and the 
 /ear ? 
 
 Cold and tlear-oit face, why come you so cmelly meek ? 
 
 /■-falked in a wintry wind by a. ghastly ^immer and found 
 The shining <^/affor/il <^/ead, and Orion low in his grave. 
 
 The jilent japphire-jpangled marriage ring of the land ? 
 But .forrow jeize me if ever that /ight be my /eading star ! 
 
 Your wother is wute in her grave as her iwage in warble above : 
 Your father is ever in London, you wander about at your will : 
 You have but fed on the roses, and /ain in the /ilies of /ife.
 
 ,8 F.XFOKC/XC, rrsrA'G, AXD COMHIXiyG 
 
 The following from the ' Morte d' Arthur' are effec- 
 tive : 
 
 and over them the j'ea-wind jang 
 
 Slirill. cliill. with /"lakes of/oam. 
 
 1 heard tlie npjjle wasliing in the reeds. 
 And the wild xi^ter hipping on the crag. 
 
 So /lashed and /ell the brand Excalibur. 
 
 The ^are /'lack r/iff f/anged round him. 
 
 But the use of vowels as a means of producing that 
 musical accompaniment to thought, through which a 
 poet voices his feelings and sympathies, and makes 
 spiritual suggestions, demands a far subtler sense of 
 spiritual affinities. This* subtler sense was possessed, 
 in an eminent degree, by Samuel Tayl(M- Coleridge ; 
 and he has most strikingly revealed it in the First 
 Part of his ' Christabel,' and in his ' Kubla Khan.' 
 In the former poem, he has signally illustrated the 
 truth of a marginal note which he wrote in a copy of 
 Selden's 'Table Talk,' on this sentence: 'Verses 
 prove nothing but the quantity of syllables ; they are 
 not meant for logic' 'True,' writes Coleridge, 'they, 
 that is, verses, are not logic, but they are, or ought to 
 be, the ttivoys and rcprcsintativis of that vital passion 
 which is the practical cement of logic, and, without 
 which, logic must remain inert.' A profound remark. 
 
 The following are notable examples : 
 
 The lady sprang up suddenly. 
 
 The lovely lady. Christalxrl ! 
 
 It moaned a.H near, a.s near c<3n l>e. 
 
 But \\\v\\ it is she cannot tell. — 
 
 On the other side it seems to l)e. 
 
 Of the huge, broad -brca-sted. old o.ik-trec.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 19 
 
 The form of this stanza is quite perfect. Note the 
 suggestiveness of the abrupt vowels in the first verse, 
 the abatement required for the proper elocution, in 
 the second verse, the prolongable vowels and sub- 
 vowels of the third, and then the short vowels again 
 in the fourth. Then note how the vowels in the last 
 verse swell responsive to the poet's conception ; and 
 how encased they are in a strong framework of con- 
 sonants. 
 
 The night is chill ; the forest bare ; 
 
 Is it the wind that moaneth bleak ? 
 
 There is not wind enough in the air 
 
 To move away the ringlet curl 
 
 From the lovely lady's cheek — 
 
 There is not wind enough to twirl 
 
 The one red leaf, the last of its clan, 
 
 That dances as often as dance it can, 
 
 Hanging so light, and hanging so high, 
 
 On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky. 
 
 Note the effect imparted by the running on of the 
 three verses in reply to the question, ' Is it the wind 
 that moaneth bleak ? ' And then the effect of the 
 monosyllabic words in the verses that follow, their 
 staccato effect being heightened by the dissyllabic 
 words that add to the number of light syllables. 
 
 In every verse of ' Christabel,' the number of accents, 
 and, consequently, the number of feet, are regularly 
 four ; but the number of syllables varies from seven 
 to twelve, the xa rhythm being changed sometimes to 
 the axx or xxa. ^ But the variation in the number of 
 syllables is not made arbitrarily or for the mere ends 
 of convenience, but in correspondence with some
 
 20 ENFORCrXG, FUS/A'G, AXD CO.MBLXING 
 
 transition in the nature of the imagery or passion. 
 The two following xxa verses, descriptive of the 
 castle-gate, are admirably suggestive of the massive- 
 ness and strength of the gate, and of the image 
 of the bold knights on their spirited steeds, issuing 
 through it : 
 
 The gate that was ironed within and without. 
 Where an army in l>attle array had marched out. 
 
 The vowel melody of the following verses is most 
 suggestive : 
 
 Outside her kennel, the mastitToId 
 Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold. 
 The mastiff old did not awake. 
 Yet she an angry moan did make I 
 And what can ail the mastiff jjitch? 
 Never till now she uttered yell 
 Heneath the eye of Christabel. 
 Perhaps it is the owlet's .scritch : 
 For what can ail the mastiff Ijitch? 
 
 •Sweet Christal)c-I her feet doth hare. 
 And, jealous of the listening air. 
 They steal their way from stair to stair. 
 Now in glimmer, and now in gloom ; 
 And now they jkxss the IJaron's room. 
 As still as death with stifled hreath! 
 And now have reathcd her chamher door; 
 And now doth ('ict^ldinc press d«)wn 
 The rushes of the chamber floor. 
 The moon shines dim in the o|)cn air, 
 And not a moonbeam enters here. 
 
 Hut they without Its light can see 
 The chamber carved so curiously. 
 Car\-ed with figures strange and sweet. 
 All made nut of the carver's brain.
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 21 
 
 For a lady's chamber meet : 
 
 The lamp with twofold silver chain 
 
 Is fastened to an angel's feet, 
 
 The silver lamp burns dead and dim ; 
 
 But Christabel the lamp will trim. 
 
 She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright, 
 
 And left it swinging to and fro, 
 
 While Gerakline in wretched plight 
 
 Sank down upon the floor below. 
 
 So much, for the present, in regard to the first two 
 unities I have named, foot and verse, into which feel- 
 ing moulds language ; and the enforcing and fusing 
 or combining agencies of these, namely, accent and 
 melody. 
 
 c. Harmony and Rhyme. 
 
 The fusing and combining agencies of the stanza,^ 
 the third unity I have named, are, i. Harmony; 
 2. Rhyme. 
 
 We often meet with stanzas, the individual verses 
 of which are sufficiently melodious, but all the verses 
 when taken together, of which the stanzas are com- 
 posed, are deficient in harmony, and consequently 
 there is little or no fusion. The esemplastic power 
 
 1 Stanza is exclusively applied to uniform groups of rhymed verses; 
 but it can be with eciual propriety applied to the varied groups of blank 
 verses, as will be shown in the section on blank verse. For the proper 
 appreciation of the individual verses in Milton's blank verse, they must 
 be read in groups — a group sometimes beginning within a verse and 
 ending within a verse. These groups are due to the unifying action of 
 feeUng, just as much as regular rhymed stanzas are; and, indeed, often 
 more so. " The Italian called it stanza, as if we should say a resting- 
 place." — VviTVV.iin\M, Art of English Poesie,Q(\. 1589, b. ii. c. 2. . . . 
 " So named from the stop or halt at the end of it. . . . Cognate with 
 English ' stand.' " — Skeat's Etymological Dictionary.
 
 •>•> 
 
 KNFOA'CIXG, Fi'SING, AND COAfB/AING 
 
 of the writer's teeling was not strong enough, did not 
 extend beyond the individual verse. In such case, 
 a stanza is but an arbitrary group or succession of 
 verses, and not a vital unity. 
 
 The second combining agency of the stanza I have 
 named, is Rhyme. 
 
 (Rhyme is the likeness, with a difference, — unity 
 in variety, — of final words of two or more verses. If 
 they are monosyllabic words, their vowels and the con- 
 sonants which follow them are alike (as pronounced, 
 of course, not necessarily as spelled), while the 
 consonants which precede them are unlike, the like- 
 ness and the imlikeness constituting a harmony : hills, 
 rills ; hall, wall ; then, again ; mead, reed ; thought, 
 caught ; banks, ranks ; chance, trance ; peers, years ; 
 change, grange ; where two consonants jirecede, one 
 may be common to both words, as breeze, freeze ; 
 phrase, praise ; play, flay. The common letter is 
 generally / or r. If the rhyming words are dissyl- 
 labic or trisyllabic, the vowels of their accented syl- 
 lables, and the consonants or syllables which follow 
 them, are in unison, while the consonants or syllables 
 which precede them, are not : ojiinion, dominion ; 
 docile, fossil ; rehearsal, universal ; allotted, besotted ; 
 studied, bloodied. 
 
 Wf)rds pronounced alike, though they differ in 
 spelling anil signification, cannot be saiti to rhyme. 
 They arc simply identical. There is no variation to 
 make a harmony. Such words as the following, for 
 example : air, heir ; berry, bury ; cent, scent, sent ; 
 cite, sight, site; climb, clime; cygnet, signet; eye. I ; 
 fain, feign ; and numerous others.)
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 
 
 23 
 
 Rhyme is an agency which can be more easily 
 employed than harmony, and it may be employed by 
 a poet to cover a multitude of sins of melody and 
 harmony. In writing blank verse, the poet has to 
 depend upon the melodious movement of the individ- 
 ual verses, pause-melody, and the general harmony or 
 toning. / It is only when a poet's feeling is all- 
 embracing, is sufficiently sustained, that he can suc- 
 ceed in writing blank verse, with the fullest success. 
 
 Rhyme, while it is an important combining agency 
 of the stanza, is also an enforcing agency of the indi- 
 vidual verse. Hence, the second verse of a rhyming 
 couplet must be slightly stronger than the first, in 
 order to support the enforcement imparted by the 
 rhyme. In humorous poetry, a ludicrous effect is 
 often secured by the poet's advisedly making the 
 verse on which rhyme falls, too weak to support it. 
 Butler frequently does this in his ' Hudibras.' The 
 rhyme emphasis of a verse is, of course, in propor- 
 tion to the nearness of the verse to that with which 
 it rhymes. If it is far separated from it, the empha- 
 sis will be more or less neutralized. In CoUins's ' Ode 
 on the Passions,' there are adjacent, alternate, and 
 remote rhymes. Any one reading this Ode must 
 feel the different degrees of the rhyme-emphasis, 
 resulting from the different degrees of nearness or 
 remoteness of the rhyming verses. In the first six- 
 teen verses, the rhyming verses are adjacent, and 
 one rhyme is a double rhyme (fainting, j^ainting) : 
 
 When Music, heavenly maid, was young. 
 While yet in early Greece she sung.
 
 24 ENFORCING, FUS/NG, AND COM n LYING 
 
 The Passions oft, to hear her shell. 
 Thronged around her magic cell, 
 Kxulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
 I'ossest beyond the Muse's painting; 
 IJy turns they felt the glowing mind 
 Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined; 
 Till once, "tis said, when all were fired. 
 Filled with fury, rapt, inspired. 
 From tiie supporting myrtles round 
 They snatched her instruments of sound ; 
 And, as they oft had heard apart 
 Sweet lessons of her forceful art. 
 Each, for madness ruled the hour. 
 Would ])rove his own expressive power. 
 
 Then follow three quatrains, — the rhymes being 
 alternate, — and in jiassing to them the reduction of 
 the rhyme-emj)hasis is felt at once : 
 
 First Fear, his hand, its .skill to try, 
 
 Amid the chords bewildered laid. 
 And back recoiled, he knew not why, 
 
 F'en at the .sound himself had made. 
 
 Next Anger nished ; his eyes on fire 
 In lightnings owned his secret stings; 
 
 In one rude clasii he struck tiie lyre. 
 
 And swept with hurried hand the strings. 
 
 With woful mea,sures, wan Despair, 
 Low .sullen sounds, his grief beguiled, 
 
 A solemn, strange, and mingled air; 
 Twas .sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. 
 
 The ne.xt ten ver.scs, twenty-ninth to thirty-eighth 
 inchisive, descriptive of Hope, are particularly inter- 
 esting, as illustrating rhyme-emi)hasis. The fir.st and 
 the tenth verses rhyme together, but they are so remote
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 
 
 25 
 
 that the rhyme-emphasis on the tenth verse is quite 
 neutralized. There are very few readers that would 
 spontaneously retain the final sound of the first verse 
 when they arrived at the final sound of the tenth. 
 The second and third verses rhyme, and the rhyme is 
 a double rhyme (measure, pleasure), and the emphasis 
 is consequently strong. Then there are four verses 
 rhyming alternately, the rhyme-emphasis being, in 
 consequence, a little lighter; then the next two verses 
 rhyme together, and the rhyme-emphasis is a little 
 stronger again. The rhyme-scheme being abbcdcdcca. 
 
 But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, 
 
 What was thy dehghtful measure ? 
 
 Still it whispered promised pleasure. 
 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! 
 
 Still would her touch the strain prolong, 
 
 And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
 
 She called on Echo still thro" all the song ; 
 
 And, where her sweetest theme she chose, 
 
 A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, 
 
 And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair. 
 
 The entire Ode affords an admirable study of this 
 feature of Prosody, and also of the emphasis secured 
 by the varied length of verses, about which I shall 
 speak further on. 
 
 When a rhyme is repeated a number of times, the 
 emphasis gathers up to a certain point. Beyond that, 
 it would pester the ear, and lose its effect ; in other 
 words, it would be neutralized more or less by a 
 monotonous iteration. 
 
 If the rhyme is double, the emphasis is, of course, 
 still more marked. Mrs. Browning is fond of the
 
 26 EXFORC/NG, fCS/XC, AXD COM/i/X/XG 
 
 double rhyme, and employs it with great effect in 
 some of her shorter poems ; in ' Cowper's Grave,' 
 for example : 
 
 It is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying, 
 It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying: 
 Yet let the grief and humbleness, as low as silence languish ! 
 Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her 
 anguish. 
 
 O poets ! from a maniac's tongue wjis poured the deathless 
 
 singing I 
 O Christians I at your cross of hope, a hopeless hand was 
 
 clinging ! 
 O men I this man in brotherhood your weary path l^eguiling. 
 Groaned inly while he taught you peace, and died while ye 
 
 were smiling. 
 
 Robert Hrowning is a great master of rhyme ; and 
 his poetry aboimds in every variety of rhyme-effect. 
 His poem ' Of Pacchiarotto, and how he worked in 
 Distemper,' and his 'Flight of the Duchess' afford 
 remarkable and surprising examples of double and 
 triple rhymes. 
 
 The I-lnglish ear is not so accustomed to the double 
 rhyme as is the Italian ear, and the poet who employs 
 it in serious verse, must employ it with the best artistic 
 taste and judgment. Its emphasis is too jjronounccd. 
 It is employed with the best effect, as an exceptional 
 rhyme, and for some sjiecial emj)hasis. Hyron so 
 employs it in his ' Don Jium,' as he does also the 
 triple rhyme, which is .still more emphatic. 
 
 In all the more reckless stanzas of ' Don Juan,' 
 that is, when the j)oet plays with the feelings, often to 
 the extent of tloing an irreverent violence to them, the
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 27 
 
 double rhyme comes out ; when the tone softens, and 
 becomes more serious, it is not employed to the same 
 extent ; it is sometimes not employed at all, often for 
 a number of stanzas. In fact, the double and triple 
 rhymes, throughout the poem, indicate a reduction of 
 true poetic seriousness. Take, for example, a stanza 
 like the following, descriptive of life, in ' Don Juan,' 
 Canto XV. St. 99 ; its tone does not admit the double 
 rhyme : 
 
 Between two worlds life hovers like a star, 
 
 "Twi.xt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. 
 
 How little do we know that which we are ! 
 
 How less what we may be ! The eternal surge 
 
 Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 
 Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, 
 
 Lashed from the foam of ages ; while the graves 
 
 Of empires heave but like some passing waves. 
 
 Or take the three following stanzas descriptive of 
 things sweet. Canto i. St. 123-125. There's a tender- 
 ness of sentiment in the first which excludes entirely 
 the double rhyme, as Byron uses it : 
 
 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark 
 Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home ; 
 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark 
 Our coming, and look brighter when we come ; 
 'Tis sweet to be awakened by the lark, 
 Or lulled by falling waters ; sweet the hum 
 Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds. 
 The lisp of children, and their earlie.st words. 
 
 But in the next stanza, the general tone is less 
 serious, and it is especially marked by the double 
 rhyme which crops out at the end:
 
 28 EXFORC/A'G, Fi'SIXG, AXD CO.Ufi/X/XG 
 
 Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes 
 
 In Bacchanal profusion reel to earth, 
 Purple and gushing : sweet are our escapes 
 
 From civic revelry to rural mirth ; 
 Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps, 
 
 Sweet to the father is his first-born's birth. 
 Sweet is revenge — especially to women. 
 
 Pillage to soldiers. i)ri/e-money to seamen. 
 
 In the next stanza, he carries the unseriousness still 
 further, and it is still more marked by the double 
 rhyme, the last one embracinj^^ two j)airs of words : 
 
 Sweet is a legacy, and passing sweet 
 
 The unexpected ileath of some old lady 
 Or gentleman of seventy years complete, 
 
 Who've made ' us youth ' wait too — too long already 
 For an estate, or cash, or country-seat. 
 
 Still breaking, but with stamina so steady 
 That all the Israelites are fit to mob its 
 Next owner for their double-damn'd post-obits. 
 
 In the descrij)ti<)n ol Don Juans mother, in the 
 First Canto, this unseriousness is carried to an ex- 
 treme of recklessness, which is exhibited in frecjuent 
 triple rhymes. The description extends over twenty 
 stanzas or more. Take for exnmnlo thi* following: 
 
 Her favorite science was the mathematical. 
 
 Her noblest virtue w.is her magnanimity; 
 Her wit (she sometimes trird at wit) was Attic all. 
 
 Her serious sayings darkened to sul)limit\ ; 
 In short, in all things she w.xs fairly what I call 
 
 A protligy — her morning dress w.xs dimity. 
 Her evening, silk, or. in the smiimer, muslin, 
 
 \iii! i.ihcr stuffs, with which I u..ii*i ^t u pu7/ling. '
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 29 
 
 Oh ! she was perfect past all parallel — 
 
 Of any modern female saint's comparison ; 
 So far above the cunning powers of hell, 
 
 Her guardian angel had given up his garrison ; 
 Even her minutest motions went as well 
 
 As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison : 
 In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, 
 
 Save thine 'incomparable oil,' Macassar! 
 
 'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed 
 
 With persons of no sort of education. 
 Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred, 
 
 Grow tired of scientific conversation ; 
 I don't choose to say much upon this head, 
 
 Tm a plain man, and in a single station. 
 But — oh ! ye lords of ladies intellectual. 
 
 Inform us truly, have they not \\&\\-pccked you all? 
 
 It will be found interesting, in reading ' Don Juan,' 
 to note the part played by the double and triple rhymes, 
 in indicating the lowering of the poetic key — the 
 reduction of true poetic seriousness. What might be 
 called the moral phases of the verse of ' Don Juan,' 
 are, throughout the entire poem, extremely interesting. 
 
 Some of Byron's most powerful writing is found in 
 'Don Juan'; some of his tenderest; and the possible 
 flexibility of the English language is often fully real- 
 ized. But when he wrote this poem, his better nature 
 was more or less eclipsed ; but wherever it asserts 
 itself, we feel its presence in the moulding of the 
 verse, as much as we do in the sentiments expressed. 
 
 From what has been said of the double and the 
 triple rhyme, as employed by Byron, in hfs ' Don 
 Juan,' it must not be inferred that these are \.\\c pecul- 
 iar functions of these rhymes. They may serve to
 
 ^O EXFORC/XC, FUSIXG, AXD COMBIXIXG 
 
 emphasize the serious as well as the jocose. The 
 stanzas quoted from Mrs. Hrowning's ' Cowper's 
 Grave' show this. The form in which Hood's ' Bridge 
 of Sighs ' is cast, is worthy of notice, in this connec- 
 tion. The verse is axx; and to add to the liveliness of 
 the expression, the rhymes are, in most cases, triple 
 rhymes, as, 'unfortunate,' 'imi)ortunate ' ; 'tenderly,* 
 •slenderly'; 'scornfully,' 'mournfully'; 'brink of it,' 
 'think of it,' 'drink of it,' etc. Such a form might 
 seem at first view to be very ill chosen. Hut every 
 reader of sensibility must feel that the rhythm and 
 the rhyme, in this case, serve as a most effective foil 
 to the melancholy theme. It is not unlike the laugh- 
 ter of frenzied grief. 
 
 Shakespeare understood the enforcement secured 
 through rhyme as fully as he did every other element 
 of impassioned expression. He knew the effect of 
 iterated rhyme, and knew, too, just how far it could 
 be carried without self-neutralization. 
 
 In Titania's address to the F"airies in 'A Midsum- 
 mer-Night's Dream,' ^ i. 167-177, the same rhyme 
 is re})eated a number of times in successive verses, 
 with a gathering emphasis which accords well with 
 the enthusiasm of the speaker : 
 
 Be kind and courteou.s to thi.s gentleman ; 
 H<ip in his walks and gambol in liis eyes; 
 Feed him with apricocks and dewberries. 
 With purple grapes, green figs and mulberries ; 
 The honey-l)ags steal from the humble-bees. 
 And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs, 
 And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
 To have my love to bed ami to arise ;
 
 PRINCIPLES OF POETIC UNITIES. 31 
 
 And pluck the wings from painted butterflies 
 To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes : ' 
 Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. -^ 
 
 A rhyme could hardly, under any circumstances, 
 be repeated in successive verses beyond the extent to 
 which it is repeated here, without losing its effect in 
 the resultant monotony.
 
 TIT. 
 
 EFFECTS FRODICEI) BY EXCEPTIONAL AND 
 VARIED METRES. 
 
 RELATIVE effects are produced by variations of 
 metre on the theme-metre. 
 
 These effects will be seen in some of the stanzas 
 presented and analyzed further on, especially that of 
 Milton's ode 'On the Morning of Christ's Nativity.' 
 
 Southey's long poem, ' The Curse of Kehama,' 
 affords an abundance of material for the fullest study 
 of this feature of verse-building. 
 
 There is, perhaps, no composition in the language 
 which affords so much material within the same com- 
 pass, as Wordsworth's Ode on the ' Intimations of 
 Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.' 
 
 The several metres are felt, in the course of the 
 reading of the Ode, to be organic — inseparable 
 from what each is employed to express. The 
 rhymes, too, with their varying degrees of emphasis, 
 according to the nearness or remoteness, and the 
 length, of the rhyming verses, are equally a part of 
 the expression. Double rhymes occur with a notable 
 appropriateness. The same may be said of the few 
 exceptional feet which occur. 
 
 Of the 203 verses of which the Ode consists, 100 
 arc 5 xa. This is the theme-metre of the Ode, from 
 32
 
 EXCEPTIONAL AND VARIED METRES. 
 
 33 
 
 which the relative effects of the other metres are 
 partly derived. (The feelings of the reader of 
 English poetry get to be set, so to speak, to the 
 pentameter measure, as in that measure the largest 
 portion of English poetry is written ; and accord- 
 ingly other measures derive some effect from that 
 fact.) 
 
 In the theme-metre, generally, the more reflective 
 portions of the Ode, its deeper tones, are expressed. 
 The gladder notes come in the shorter metres. 
 
 Of the other metres, there are thirty-nine /^xa, forty- 
 four Z^ci, ten 2xa, six 6xa, one J xa, one 2xxa + x, 
 one xxa, xa, xxa, xa, and one 3 xa, ax, xa, the three 
 last being 
 
 And the children are culling, 
 
 And the babe leaps up on the mother's arm : — 
 
 Even more than when I tripped lightly as they. 
 
 Note the effect of the ax foot (lightly) in the last 
 verse. 
 
 The third section of the Ode is especially to be 
 noted for the effects which it exhibits of varied metre : 
 
 Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, 
 
 And while the young lambs bound 
 
 As to the tabor's sound, 
 To me alone there came a thought of grief: 
 A timely utterance gave that thought relief. 
 
 And I again am strong : 
 The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep ; 
 No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; 
 I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, 
 The winds come to me from the fields of Sleep, 
 
 And all the eartli is gay ;
 
 34 
 
 EXCEPTIONAL AND VARIED METRES. 
 
 Land and sea 
 Give themselves up to jollity. 
 And with the heart of May 
 Doth every bea.st keep holiday ; — 
 Thou child of Joy, 
 Shout round nie, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd 
 boy ! 
 
 After a play of varied metres, the theme-metre is 
 maintained, as it should be, in the closing section, 
 there being but two departures from it, one 2xa and 
 one 6.tv7, each of which has a special function and is 
 felt to be organic : 
 
 And O. ye Fountains, Meadows. Hills, and Groves, 
 
 Korebode not any severing of our loves! 
 
 Yet in my heart of hearts 1 feel your might ; 
 
 1 only have relinquished one delight 
 
 To live beneatli your more habitual sway. 
 
 1 love the Brooks which down their channels fret, 
 
 Even more than when I tripped lightly as tliey ; 
 
 The innocent brightness of a new-born Day 
 
 Is lovely yet ; 
 The Clouds that gather round the setting sun 
 Do take a sober colouring from an eye 
 That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; 
 Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 
 Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 
 Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, 
 To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
 Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 
 
 Wordsworth ncvci wrote any poem of which it can 
 be more truly said than of his great Ode, 'Of the 
 soul the body form doth take.' The student of verse 
 should memorize it, and frequently repeat it, until the 
 varied forms come out to his feelings.
 
 IV. 
 
 EFFECTS SECURED BY A SHIFTIXCi OF THE REG- 
 ULAR ACCENT, AND BY ADDITIONAL UNAC- 
 CENTED SYLLABLES. 
 
 AS this is an important feature in the most organic 
 English verse, a feature through which some of 
 the best metrical effects, both logical and aesthetic, 
 are secured, it is worth while to introduce the subject 
 with some of Dr. Johnson's condemnations of the 
 variety which is essential to harmony, contained in 
 his Essay on the Versification of Milton, to show, if 
 for nothing else, how far opinions about verse, in the 
 eighteenth century, went astray, in respect to this 
 feature, as they did in respect to many others — in 
 most others. 
 
 'The heroic measure of the English language,' 
 says the Doctor, ' may be properly considered as pure 
 or mi.xcd. It is pure, when the accent rests upon 
 every second syllable through the whole line. . . . 
 
 * The repetition of this sound or percussion at 
 equal times is the most couipletc harmony of which a 
 single verse is eapable} and should therefore be exactly 
 kept in di.stichs, and generally in the last line of a 
 paragraph, that the ear may rest without any sense of 
 imperfection. 
 
 1 The italics throughout the extract given are mine. — II. C. 
 
 35
 
 36 sniirixG of the regular accent. 
 
 ' But to preserve the scries of sounds untransposed 
 in a long composition, is not only very difficult, but 
 tiresome and disgusting ; for we are soon wearied 
 with the perpetual recurrence of the same cadence. 
 Necessity has therefore enforced the mixed measure, 
 in which some variation of the accents is allowed. 
 This, though it always injures the harmony of the line 
 considered by itself, yet compensates the loss by re- 
 lieving us from the continual tyranny of the same 
 sound ; and makes us more sensible of the harmony 
 of the pure measure.' 
 
 Here we see that some variation of the accents is 
 allowed as a relief. The expressiveness of such 
 variation is entirely ignored. A departure from the 
 ' pure ' is a necessary evil. The thing to be especially 
 noted is, that verse is regarded as an end to itself. 
 
 The Doctor continues : 
 
 ' Of these mi.xed numbers every poet affords us 
 innumerable instances; and Milton seldom has two 
 pure lines together, as will appear if any of his para- 
 graphs be read with attention merely to the music' 
 
 (Here the Doctor must be understood to mean that 
 wherever Milton's verses are not ' pure,' their music 
 is marred ! ) 
 
 He then quotes the following from ' Paradise Lost,' 
 iv. 720-735: 
 
 Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both .stood, 
 Hoth turned, and under o|)en sky adored 
 The Cioo that made l)()th sky. air. earth, and heaven, 
 Which tliey Itciicld. the moon's resplendent ^d(>l>e. 
 And starry pole : Thou also tnatCst the nii^ht. 
 Maker omnipotent, and thou the day,
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 37 
 
 Which we, in our appointed work employed 
 Have finisli^d, happy in our mutual help 
 And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss 
 Ordain'd by thee ; and this delicious place 
 For us too large, where thy abundance wants 
 Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground. 
 But thou hast promised from us two a race 
 To fill the Earth, who shall with us extol 
 Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, 
 And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. 
 
 ' In this passage it will be at first observed that 
 all the lines are not equally harmonious ; and upon a 
 nearer examination it will be found that only the fifth 
 and ninth lines are regular, and the rest are more or 
 less licentious with respect to the accent. In some 
 the accent is equally upon two syllables together, and 
 in both strong. As 
 
 ^&- 
 
 Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both stood. 
 
 Both turned, and under open sky adored 
 
 The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven. 
 
 * In others the accent is equally upon two syllables, 
 but upon both weak : 
 
 a race 
 To fill the Earth, who shall with us extol 
 Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, 
 And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. 
 
 ' In the first pair of syllables [of a verse] the 
 accent may deviate from the rigor of exactness, with- 
 out any iinpleasitig diinitiution of Jiarniojiy, as may be 
 observed in the lines already cited, and more remark- 
 ably in this : 
 
 Thou "also niad'st the night, 
 Arcrker omnipotent, and thou tlie day.
 
 38 SHIFTING OF TIIL KEGULAK ACCENT. 
 
 The Doctor confounds harmony with uniformity, 
 and does not at all recognize the lac^ that variety is 
 as essential to harmony as is unity. Ikit the most 
 surprising thing is that he is entirely deaf to the 
 special expressiveness of variety in verse. 
 
 He continues : 
 
 ' But excepting in the first pair of syllables, which 
 may be considered as arbitrary, a poet, who, not hav- 
 ing the invention or knowledge of Milton, has more 
 need to allure his audience by musical cadences, 
 should seldom suffer more than one aberration from 
 the rule in any single verse.' 
 
 This is equivalent to saying that a poet,- not having 
 the invention or knowledge of Milton, cannot afford 
 to sacrifice music by admitting irregular accents — 
 music, of course, according to the Doctor, depending 
 on uniformity of accent, all deviations from uniformity 
 marring the music, but being necessary, occasionally, 
 as a blessed relief ! 
 
 The Doctor has still further condemnation to j>ro- 
 nounce upon the passage quoted : 
 
 ' There are two lines in this passage more remark- 
 ably inharmonious : 
 
 tlii.s delicious place 
 For us loo large. u>Jiere Hiy al)Uiulancc wants 
 Partakers, and \\\\q\o\>\ falls to the j^round. 
 
 'Here the third pair of syllables in the first, and 
 fourth pair in the second, verse, have their accents 
 retrograde or inverted ; the first syllable being strong 
 or acute, and the second weak. The (ietriment, ivliich 
 he viea.oire suffers by this inversion of the acecnts, 
 i»; votnetimi-^ k*^s perce|itiblt'. when the verses are
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 
 
 39 
 
 carried one into another, but is remarkably strikmg in 
 this place, where the vicious verse concludes a period.' 
 
 Now the ripple which makes the last verse 
 ' vicious,' 
 
 Partakers, and uncropt/rt//j to the ground, 
 
 not only contributes to harmony, but imparts a pecu- 
 liar expressiveness and suggestiveness to the verse. 
 
 To take up again the interrupted sentence : * The 
 detriment which the measure suffers by this inversion 
 of the accents, is sometimes less perceptible, when 
 the verses are carried one into another, . . . and is 
 yet more offensive in rhyme, when we regularly 
 attend to the flow of every single line. This will 
 appear by reading a couplet, in which Cowley, an 
 author not sufficiently studious of harmony, has com- 
 mitted the same fault : 
 
 I His harmlesfj life / 
 
 Does with substantial blesstjdness/ abound, 
 And the iibft wings of peac^V^^r him round. 
 
 ' In these the law of tnetj'e is very grossly violated 
 by mingling combinations of sound directly opposite 
 to each other, as Milton expresses it in his Sonnet 
 to Henry Lawes, by cominitti)ig short and long, and 
 setting one part of the measure at variance with the 
 rest. The ancients, who had a language more capa- 
 ble of variety than ours, had two kinds of verse ; the 
 iambic, consisting of short and long syllables alter- 
 nately, from which our heroic measure is derived ; 
 and the trochaic, consisting in a like alternation of 
 long and short. These were considered as opposites, 
 and conveyed the contrary images of speed and slow- 
 ness ; to confound them, therefore, as in these lines,
 
 40 SHI FT IXC OF THE REGUIAR ACCENT. 
 
 is to deviate from the established practice. Rut, 
 where the senses are to judge, authority is not neces- 
 sary ; the ear is sufficient to detect dissonance ; nor 
 should I have sought auxiliaries, on such an occasion, 
 against any name but that of Milton.' 
 
 All this is sufficiently dreary. What a noble pair 
 of ears Johnson reveals in the whole passage quoted! 
 
 It does not appear in any of his criticisms that he 
 ever thought of verse as having an end beyond itself. 
 With him, the object of verse was not the expression 
 of impassioned and spiritualized thought, but to be — 
 verse ! 
 
 He regarded English verse, which is accentual, 
 under the conditions of classical verse, which is quan- 
 titative — made so by its being recited, or chanted, in 
 time. Quantity, in classical verse, is a fixed thing ; 
 a long syllable is invariably long, and equal to two 
 short ones ; and a short syllable is invariably short. 
 But in accentual verse, the same monosyllabic word 
 may be an accented {i.e. may receive the ictus), or 
 an unaccented syllable, in a verse — the word ' and,' 
 for examj)le, which might be supposed to be always 
 an unaccented syllable : 
 
 Each leaning on their elbow.s and their hips. 
 
 — Shakesphakk's / 'tHus and Adonis, 44. 
 
 Yet hath lie been mv captive and my slave. 
 
 — Id. 101. 
 
 So were he like him and by Venus' side. 
 
 — rd. 180. 
 
 In the ff)llowing verse, the same word, 'you,' is 
 accented and unaccented : 
 
 You leave us: you will sec llic Kiiine. 
 
 — Tknnvsoh's /. M. xcviii. i.
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. ^j 
 
 So in the following passage from ' The Princess,' 
 the words * fight ' and ' strike ' are each accented and 
 unaccented, in the same verse : 
 
 yet whatsoever you do, 
 Fight and tight well; strike and strike home. O dear 
 Brothers, the woman's Angel guards you, etc. 
 
 V. 399. 
 
 The 1st foot is ax; the 2d, xa\ the 3d, ax\ the 
 4th, xa. 
 
 Even ' to ' before the infinitive may receive the 
 ictus : 
 
 That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire. 
 
 — Shakespeare's Sonnet, lo. 6. 
 
 In the very next verse it is unaccented : 
 Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate. 
 
 So much by way of introduction to the subject of 
 this chapter. 
 
 Spenser, sometimes, for a special enforcement, 
 either logical or aesthetic, introduces an ax foot into 
 his xa verse, where, by employing the same words, 
 in a slightly different order, he might have preserved 
 the regular xa movement — an evidence that the 
 ripple in the stream is not arbitrary, but responsive 
 to the poet's feeling. 
 
 Warton, in his 'Observations on the Faerie Queene,' 
 indicates how verses, in which such significant ripples 
 occur, can be made smooth or ' correct ' according to 
 the notions of the school of criticism to which he and 
 Johnson belonged ; but the special enforcement se- 
 cured by the ripple is then lost.
 
 42 
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCEXT. 
 
 As an example of iin effective exceptional foot, 
 take the last of the following verses : 
 
 At length tlicy came into a forest w yde, 
 
 Whose hideous horror and sad treniblinjj sownd. 
 
 Full griesly seemd : Therein they long did rydc, 
 Yet tract of living creature none they fownd, 
 Save Heares, Lyons, and Buls, which romed them arownd. 
 
 — 3. I. 14. 
 
 ' Lyons ' is an ax foot, which could have been 
 avoided by a transposition of the words ' Beares ' 
 and ' Lyons,' thus : 
 
 Save Lyons, Beares, and Buls, which romed them arownd. 
 
 But the poet is presenting a picture of savage wild- 
 ness, and his feeling caused him to break the equable 
 flow of the verse by an inversion of the regular xa 
 foot. Any one in reading the verse, first, as it is 
 given in the ' F"acrie Queene,' and then with the xa 
 movement preserved, will feel at once how much 
 more suggestive the former reading is, of the special 
 pictorial effect aimed after, than is the latter. 
 
 In the last verse of the following stanza, the poet 
 employs two xxa, instead of three xa, feet, and thus 
 secures a strongly imjiassioned emphasis (the stanza 
 expresses the lament of Una for the loss of her com- 
 panion, the Red-Cro.ss Knight, when she meets with 
 the friendly lion) : 
 
 ' The Lyon, Lord of evcrie beast in field,' 
 
 Quoth she, * his princely pujs.sance doth abate. 
 
 And mightic proud to humble wcake does yield, 
 ForgftfuII <if the hungry rage, which late 
 
 Him prickt, in pittic of my s;ul cstiite :
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 43 
 
 But he, r/ty Lyon, and my noble Lord, 
 How does he find in cniell hart to hate 
 Her, that him loved, and ever most adord 
 As the God of my life ? why hath he me aljhord ? ' 
 
 — i. I. 3. 7. 
 
 The voice should pass lightly over 'As the' and 'of 
 my,' and should utter the words 'God' and 'life' 
 with a strong stress. The verse, too, with one excep- 
 tion, is composed of short monosyllabic words, and 
 these contribute something to the effect. 
 
 (It will be found that strong passion is most effec- 
 tively expressed through the monosyllabic words of 
 the language ; not only because such words are, for 
 the most part, Anglo-Saxon, but because their staccato 
 effect subserves well the abruptness of strong passion. 
 Shakespeare understood the peculiar effectiveness of 
 monosyllabic words. Of their use in his Dramas, for 
 the expression of deep pathos, or the abruptness of 
 anger, hate, and scorn, see examples in King Lear, 
 2.4. 112-115, 187-189, 194, 195, 269, 270, 274-280, 
 283; 3. 2. 1,66,67, 72, 73; 4. 17-19, 20-22; 6. 113, 
 114; 7.67-69; 4. 2. 30,31; 6. 96-104, 143-146, 178- 
 186; 7. 45-50, 54-56; 5- 3- 8-19, 23-26, 258-264; 
 306-312. King John, 4. 3. 95-100, 1 16-124. Merchant 
 of Venice, 3. 3. 4-17. Richard III., i. 3. 103-133. 
 Julius Caesar, 4. 3. 1-125.)^ 
 
 In the sixth verse of the following passage from 
 Tennyson's ' Morte d'Arthur,' an xxa foot, ' in an 
 arch,' is employed with fine effect. Sir Bcdivere, at 
 the command of King Arthur, throws Excalibur into 
 the lake : 
 
 1 See my ' Introduction to the Study of Shakespeare,' pp. loi-i 1 1.
 
 44 SHIFTIXG OI- THE REGULAR ACCEXT. 
 
 Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran. 
 
 And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged 
 
 Among the bulnish-bQds, and clutched the sword. 
 
 And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great brand 
 
 Made lightnings in tlie splendour of the moon. 
 
 And flashing round and round, and whirled in an arch. 
 
 Shot like a streamer of the northern morn. 
 
 Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
 
 By night, with noises of the northern sea. 
 
 So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur. 
 
 The repetition of the word * round.' in the verse, 
 also imparts something to the effect. 
 
 The voice should move rapidly over ' in an ' and 
 make a wide ui)ward interval on ' arch ' ;• and then 
 the exceptional ictus on the following word * shot ' 
 adds to the effect. 
 
 In the third verse of the following passage from 
 Milton's ' Paradise Lost ' (iii. 739-742) there are two 
 xxa feet= — '-y an aery wheel,' — which are especially 
 effective. Satan, in the disguise of a stripling cherub, 
 having been directed to Paradise by the Archangel 
 Uriel, 
 
 Took leave; and toward the coa.st of earth beneath, 
 DiTwn from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success, 
 Thrtnvs his stcup tliglit in man) >tit aery wheel. 
 Nor stayed, ti'! "'1 Nipli;Ut.s' top lie lights. 
 
 An effective emphasis is also secured through the 
 initial ax feet, 'Down from' and 'Throws his.' The 
 movement of the verse could hardly be finer. And a 
 lightsome repose is secured through the last three 
 words, 'top he lights,' which is aided by the heavy 
 word ' Niphatcs.' and even by the alliteration of the 
 /, in '-tes' top
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 45 
 
 that sea-beast 
 Leviathian, which God of all his works 
 Created hug^j^ that swifn the ocean stream. 
 
 — p. L. i. 202. 
 
 Of the effective verse, 'Created hugest,' etc., ef- 
 fective because it labors in its movement. Dr. Bentley 
 remarks, 'This verse has accents very absonous [!]. 
 To smooth it, I take the rise from v. 196, ejecting the 
 four lines intermediate : 
 
 In bulk like that 
 Leviathan," whom Ood the vastest made 
 Of all the kinds that swim the ocean stream.' 
 
 Cowper, who appreciated the morale of Milton's 
 verse better than the learned and audacious ' emend- 
 ator,' says of this verse : ' The author, speaking of a 
 vast creature, speaks in numbers suited to the subject, 
 and gives his line a singular and strange movement, 
 by inserting the word Jingest where it may have 
 the clumsiest effect. He might easily have said in 
 smoother verse, 
 
 Created hugest of the ocean stream, 
 
 but smoothness was not the thing to be consulted 
 when the Leviathan was in question.' 
 
 Of the great fishes, Milton says, in the description 
 of the fifth day's creations : 
 
 part, huge of bulk, 
 Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait, 
 Tempest the ocean. 
 
 — P. L. vii. 411. 
 
 Hugeness and unwieldincss could hardly be better 
 suggested than they are, first, by the character of the
 
 _^5 SHIFT rXG OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 
 
 words themselves, and, secondly, by the movement of 
 the verse, the first two feet of which are axx and xax\ 
 or, the scansion mijjht be, 
 
 wallow ling unwield|y enorm|, 
 
 an ax and two xxa feet ; ' unwieldy ' should receive 
 the downward inflection, and should be followed by 
 a pause ; so that the word is in effect an xax. 
 
 The initial word ' Tempest,' used as a verb, is in 
 itself most expressive ; and being ax, it is emphasized 
 by receiving an exceptional ictus. 
 
 Dr. Hentloy does not suggest any mode of smoothing 
 these verses ! 
 
 So he with difficulty and labour hard 
 .Moved on, with difficulty and labour he. 
 
 — P. L. ii. loai, lojj. 
 
 The fourth foot of each of these verses is an xxa 
 ('-ty and la-'). A suggestion of struggle is imparted 
 by the exceptional feet which is helped by the repe- 
 tition of the phrase, ' with difficulty and labour.' 
 
 Much of the perfection of the verse of the ' Para- 
 dise Lost,' both in respect to its music and its rhyth- 
 mical movements, its pause-melody, and the melodious 
 distribution of emphasis, was due, no doubt, to some 
 extent, to Milton's blindness, which, ui the first place, 
 must have rendered his ear more delicate than it would 
 otherwise have been (it was naturally fine and had 
 been highly cultivated in early life, through a study of 
 music), and which, in the second place, by its obliging 
 him to dictate his poem instead of writing it silently 
 with his own hand, must have been one cause why 
 the movement of the verse so admirably conforms to 
 its pr()j)er elocution.
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 47 
 
 Every appreciative reader of the ' Paradise Lost ' 
 must recognize 'the beautiful way the poet has of 
 carrying on the thought from line to line, so that not 
 only does each line satisfy the exactions of the ear, 
 but we have a number of intervolved rings of harmony. 
 Each joint of the passage, when it is cut, quivers with 
 melody.' 
 
 Mr. Abbott, in the section of his ' Shakespearian 
 Grammar' devoted to Prosody, starts with a state- 
 ment which is apt to convey, which does convey, a 
 very false notion ; a notion, too, which Mr. Abbott 
 himself appears to entertain. He says: 'The ordinary 
 line in blank verse consists of five feet of two syllables 
 each, the second syllable in each foot being accented. 
 
 We both I have fed | as well | and we | can both 
 Endure | the win | ter's cold | as well \ as he.' 
 
 — J. C. I. 2. 98,99. 
 
 That's quite true. But what he next says involves 
 a false idea: 'This line,' he says, 'is too monotonous 
 and formal for frequent use. The metre is therefore 
 varied,' — therefore varied, that is, to get rid of the 
 monotony ; — ' sometimes ( i ) by changing the position 
 of the accent, sometimes (2) by introducing trisyllabic 
 and monosyllabic feet.' ' It would be a mistake,' he 
 continues, ' to suppose that Shakespeare in his tragic 
 metre introduces the trisyllabic or monosyllabic foot at 
 random.' Certainly it would. A great metrical artist 
 never does anything at random. ' Some sounds and 
 collection of sounds,' Mr. Abbott continues, ' are pe- 
 culiarly adapted for monosyllabic and trisyllabic feet.' 
 
 The last sentence indicates what he means when 
 he says that ' it would be a mistake to suppose that
 
 48 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 
 
 Shakespeare in his tragic metre introduces the tri- 
 syllabic or monosyllabic foot at random.' He means, 
 as he shows in the next sentence but one, that there 
 is a law of slurritig or suppression, by which extra 
 light syllables are forced into, or got over, in the 
 enunciation of the verse. It is of course important, 
 at the outset, to determine this law ; but it is not 
 particularly important in itself. Now, why is it im- 
 portant } It is imjjortant to determine it, in order to 
 determine what are, and what are not, significant 
 departures from the even tenor oi the verse — signifi- 
 cant dcpurturca — that is, departures with an emotional 
 or a logical meaning. 
 
 The true metrical artist, or the true artist of any 
 kind, never indulges in variety for variety's sake. 
 That Shakespeare was a great metrical artist will 
 hardly be disputed. And Alfred Tennyson is a great 
 metrical artist. One remarkable feature of his verse 
 is, the closeness with which the standard, the modulus 
 of the verse, is adhered to, while there is no special 
 motive for departing from it. When he does depart 
 from it, he secures a special, often signal, effect. All 
 metrical effects are to a great extent relative — and 
 relativity of effect depends, of course, upon having a 
 standard in the mind or the feelings. In other words, 
 there can be no variation of any kind without some- 
 thing to vary from. Now the more closely the poet 
 adheres to his standard, — to the even tenor (modulus) 
 of his verse, — so long as there is no logical nor icsthetic 
 motive for departing from it, the more effective do 
 his departures become when they are sufficiently 
 motived. All non-significant dei)artures weaken the
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 49 
 
 significant ones. In other words, all non-significant 
 departures weaken or obscure the standard to the 
 mind and the feelings. 
 
 The same principle holds in reading. A reader 
 must have a consciousness or sub-consciousness of a 
 dead level, or a pure monotony, by which or from 
 which to graduate all his departures ; and it is only 
 by avoiding all non-significant departures that he 
 imparts to his hearer a consciousness or a sub-con- 
 sciousness of his own standard. If, as many ambitious 
 readers do, he indulge in variety for its own sake, 
 there is little or no relativity of vocal effect — there 
 is no vocal variety, properly speaking, but rather 
 vocal chaos. There should never be in reading a non- 
 significant departure from a pure monotony. But 
 elocution is understood by some readers, especially 
 professional readers, to mean cutting vocal capers, as 
 good penmanship is thought by professional writing- 
 masters to consist in an abundance of flourishes. 
 And so, in order to secure the best effects, there 
 should never be in verse non-significant departures 
 from the normal tenor of the verse. And great 
 metrical artists do not make such departures. The 
 normal tenor of the verse is presumed to represent 
 the normal tenor of the feeling which produces it. 
 And departures from that normal tenor represent, or 
 should represent, variations in the normal tenor of the 
 feeling. Outside of the general law, as set forth in 
 Abbott's 'Grammar,' of the slurring or suppression of 
 extra light syllables, which do not go for anything in 
 the expression, an exceptional foot must result in 
 emphasis, whether intended or not, either logical or
 
 50 
 
 SHIFTING OF THE REGULAR ACCENT. 
 
 emotional. And it the resultant emphasis is not called 
 for, the exceptional foot is a defect in the verse, 
 entirely due, it may be, to a want of metrical skill. 
 It is like a false note in music. But a great poet is 
 presumed to have metrical skill ; and where ripples 
 occur in the stream of his verse, they will generally 
 be found to justify themselves as organic; i.e. they 
 are a part of the expression. 
 
 The slightest ripple in the flow of the verse is that 
 caused by an inversion of the normal xa foot ; but, as 
 shown in the following examples, it has always a 
 more or less ai)preciable effect, generally as impart- 
 ing a logical emphasis — an emphasis of an idea. It 
 should be added that when a verse begins with an 
 ax foot, the second accent is felt to be somewhat 
 stronger, from the fact that it is preceded by two 
 unaccented syllables ; for example, in the following 
 verse from ' Romeo and Juliet' (5. i. 70) : 
 
 Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes. 
 
 The stress upon the second syllable of ' oppression ' 
 impresses as stronger by reason of the two preceding 
 unaccented syllables, 'and' and 'op-.' Again, xxa 
 and axx feet, if organic, more generally impart a 
 moral emphasis; that is, they are exponents of feel- 
 ing. It should be added that exceptional feet are 
 more emphatic in what I call, in my ' Introduction to 
 the Study of Shakespeare,' the recitative (or metrp- 
 bound ) form of Shakespeare's ver.se, than they are 
 in the more spontaneous form, for the reason that in 
 the recitative form, the sense of rhythm and metre is 
 stronger.
 
 V. 
 
 EXAMPLES OF ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 IN the following verses from Shakespeare, the 
 exceptional ax, axx, and xxa feet, while being 
 elements of melody and harmony, by imparting 
 variety to uniformity, result in emotional emphases, 
 or, sometimes, logical emphases. 
 
 Cankered with peace, to part your cankered hate : 
 
 — Romeo and "jfiiliety i. i. 102. 
 
 The repetition of the word ' cankered ' is also effec- 
 tive here. 
 
 As is the bud bit with an envious worm. 
 
 — Id. I. I. 157. 
 
 The alliteration ' bud bit,' and the abrupt word 
 ' bit,' help the effect of the inversion. 
 
 Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs ; 
 Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; 
 Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears : 
 
 — Id. I. I. 196-198 
 
 Gallop apace, yo\i fiery footed ?,ittA%, 
 
 — Id. 3. 2. I. 
 
 That T\xnaway''s eyes may wink, and Romeo 
 Leap to these arms, untalked of and unseen. 
 
 — Id. 3. 2. 6, 7. 
 
 Some word there was, worser tiian T)balt\s death, 
 
 — Id. 3. a. 108. 
 
 5»
 
 52 
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 By leaving earth ? Comfort me, counsel me. 
 
 — Id. 3. 5. aoo. 
 
 Oh, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, 
 
 — A/. 4. I. 77. 
 
 C/'t'^ w^. ,^/7v /«£'.' Oh, tell nt)t me of fear ! 
 
 — Id . 4. I. 121. 
 
 Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, 
 Refimants of packthread and old cakes of roses, 
 
 — Id. 5. 1.46, 47. 
 
 Art thou so ba.sc and full of \vrelchedne.ss. 
 And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, 
 A^<ftf</ ««</ oppression starveth in thine eyes, 
 
 — !d. 5. I. 68-70. 
 
 The obsequies tliat I for tliee will keep 
 
 Nightly siiall Ijo to strew thy grave and weep. 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. 16, 17. 
 
 What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. 19. 
 
 What, with a torch ? muffle me, night, awhile. 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. Bl. 
 
 Thou detestAble maw, thou womb of death. 
 Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth. 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. 45, 46. 
 
 Saint Francis l)e my speed I how oft to-night 
 
 Have my old feet stumbled at graves ! Who's there ? 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. lai, laa. 
 
 Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end : 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. 16a. 
 
 /V//ful sight I here lies tlie county slain ; 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. 174. 
 
 Go tell the prince : ;//// to the Capulets ; 
 
 — Id. 5. 3. 177. 
 
 A post from Wales, louden with heavy news ; 
 
 — I llrnry II'. 1. 1. 37. 
 
 I will from henceforth rather be my.self. 
 Mighty and to be feared, than my condition : 
 Which hath been smooth a.s oil, soft as young down, 
 
 -Id. I. ,. <-7.
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 53 
 
 Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, 
 
 — [d. I. 3. 32. 
 
 Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reaped 
 
 — /d.i. 3. 34. 
 
 Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
 
 — Id. I. 3. 131. 
 
 An extra emphasis is secured, of course, when the 
 logical emphasis does not, as here, correspond with 
 the rhythmical ictus. 
 
 And on my face he turned an eye of death, 
 Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 
 
 — Id. I. 3. 144. 
 
 I know you wise, but yet no farther wise 
 Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are, 
 But yet a woman : 
 
 — Id. 2. 3. III. 
 
 Shakes the old beldame earth and topples down 
 Steeples and moss-grown towers. 
 
 — Id. 3. I. 33. 
 
 Bait it like eagles having lately bathed ; 
 Glittering in golden coats, like images ; 
 
 — Id. 4. I. 99, 100. 
 
 Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
 
 — Id. 4. I. 103. 
 
 His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed, 
 
 — Id. 4. I. 105. 
 
 So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, 
 
 — 2 Henry 11'. i. i. 121. 
 
 And in his flight. 
 Stumbling in fear, was took. 
 
 — Id. I. I. 131. 
 
 Coming Xo look on you, thinkitig yon dead, 
 
 — /d. 4. 5. 156. 
 
 Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours ; 
 
 — Id. 5. 2. gi. 
 
 I know thee not. old man : fall to thy prayers ; 
 
 — Id. 5. 5. 51.
 
 54 
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 A kingdom for a stage, princes to act ; 
 
 ^ —///«r> r. Prologue, 3. 
 
 Carry them here and there ; jumping o'er times, 
 
 — A/., Prologue, 99. 
 
 Genlly to hear, kindly to judge our play. 
 
 ■^ —/</., Prologue, 34. 
 
 Never was such a sudden scholar made ; 
 
 Never came reformation in a flood, 
 
 — Id. 1. 1. 3a, 33. 
 
 Grew like the summer grass, fasicst by night, 
 
 — Id. 1. I. 65. 
 
 Be in their flowing cn^?, freshly remembered. 
 
 — /</• 4- 3- 55. 
 
 Hopeless and helpless doth /Egeon wend, 
 
 — Comedy of Errors, 1. i. 157. 
 
 Lightens my humour with his merry jests. 
 
 i> ■> —Id. 1. a. ai. 
 
 Are mv discourses dull? barren my wit? 
 
 — Id. a. 1. 91. 
 
 (Jf credit infinite, highly beloved, 
 
 — /(/. 5. 1. 0. 
 
 And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, 
 
 ° —A/. 5. I. a43. 
 
 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 
 
 — As Voii Like It, i. 3. na. 
 
 Which, like the to.id. iii^ly and venomous, 
 
 — Id. 1. 1. 13. 
 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 
 Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 
 
 — Id. a. t. 16, 17. 
 
 anon a careless herd 
 
 Full of the pasture, jumps along by him 
 
 ■' ' — /d. T. 1. 53. 
 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter. 
 
 Frosty but kindly : 
 
 ■' ' -rd. a. 3. S3. 
 
 Siehim like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
 
 * * —Id. a. 7. 148.
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 55 
 
 Full of ?,tr2.nge oaths and bearded like the pard, 
 Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
 Seeking the bubble reputation 
 Even in the cannon's mouth. 
 
 — Id. 2. 7. 150-153. 
 
 But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, 
 
 And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love : 
 
 — /</. 3- 5- 57- 
 
 I should be still 
 Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind ; 
 Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 
 — Merchant of Venice, i. i. i8, 19. 
 
 My wind, cooling my broth. 
 Would blow me to an ague, 
 
 — fd. I. I. 22. 
 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within. 
 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 
 
 Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice 
 
 By being peevish? 
 ^ * ^ — /</. 1. 1.84, 85. 
 
 Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
 
 — Id. 2. I. 29. 
 
 The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder; 
 Snail-slow in profit, 
 
 — Id. 2. 5. 47. 
 
 The stress should be on ' Snail ' ; the two heavy 
 words of which the first foot is composed, add to the 
 effect of the idea. 
 
 The watery kingdom whose ambitious head 
 Spits in the face of heaven. 
 
 — Id. 2. 7. 45. 
 
 Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats! 
 Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter' 
 
 Id. 2. 8. 16, 17.
 
 56 ORGAXIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 Happy in tliis, slie is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; happier than this. 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 
 — Id. 3. a. 161-165. 
 
 YoH loved, I Icniediox intermission. 
 
 — Id. 3. a. aoi. 
 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh : 
 
 — Id. 4. I. 307. 
 
 In such a night 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew. 
 Slander her love, 
 
 — Id. 5. I. aa. 
 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music. 
 
 Creep in our ears : 
 
 — Id. 5. 1. 56. 
 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
 
 -Id. 5. 1. 73. 
 
 Come, Antony, and young Octavius come. 
 
 Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius! 
 
 For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
 
 Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother. 
 
 Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed. 
 
 Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote. 
 
 To cast into my teeth. O, 1 could weep 
 
 My s])irit from mine eyes I — There is my dagger. 
 
 And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
 
 Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : 
 
 — JhHus Casar, 4. 3, 93-109. 
 
 Examples from Tennyson's • Princess.' 
 
 Some of the be.st examj)le.s are foiiiul in Tennyson's 
 'Princess' and 'Idylls of the Kin}.^.' I^A'ery ripple 
 in his verse, caused by a shiftin;^ of the accent, or by 
 additional unaccented syllables, imj)arts a motived
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 57 
 
 logical or emotional emphasis. Such emphasis is 
 often increased by an accompanying organic allitera- 
 tion. Various other interesting metrical effects are 
 exhibited in the following examples. 
 
 Brake wlth^z. blzsi of trumpets from the gate. 
 
 while the twangling violin 
 Struck up with Soldier-lacUi'/>, and t'verhead, 
 
 The abrupt vowels and final abrupt consonants of 
 the initial words, ' Struck up,' aid the effect. 
 
 Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laughed ; 
 
 The abrupt vowel and consonant in ' Pet-' aid the 
 effect of the initial axx. 
 
 he started on his feet, 
 Tore the King's letter, snowed it ^own, and ren/ 
 The wonder of the loom thro' warp and woof 
 From skixX. to sk'\x\. ; 
 
 but ' No ! ' 
 Roared the ?-ough King, ' you shall not ; we ourself 
 Will crush her pretty maiden fancies </ea</ 
 In iron gauntlets : brea^ the ^rouncil u/.' 
 
 We rode 
 Many a /ong /eague back to the iVorth. At last 
 
 There stood a bust of Pallas for a sign. 
 
 By two sphere lamps blazoned like Heaven and Earth 
 
 With f^wstellation and with tvwtinent. 
 
 Above an entry : 
 
 Z>rink rt'eep, until the habits of the slave, 
 The sins of emptiness, gossip and spite 
 And slander, die.
 
 jg ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 She ended here, and beckoned us : the rest 
 
 Parted; and, glowing full-faced welcome, she 
 
 Began to address us, and was moving on 
 
 In gratulation, till as when a boat 
 
 Tacks, and the slackened ^M\/laps, all her voice 
 
 Faltering and buttering in her throat, she cried, 
 
 My brother. 
 
 I would be that for ever which I seem 
 Woman, if I might sit beside your feet, 
 
 elegies 
 And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long 
 That on the stretched forefinger of all Time 
 sparkle for ever : 
 
 An extra effect is imparted to the effect of the nx 
 foot, ' Sparkle,' by the additional light syllable '-er ' 
 of ' ever,' before the break. 
 
 I learnt more from her in a fi;ush. 
 Than if my brainpan were an empty hull. 
 And every Muse tumbled zl science in. 
 
 The abrupt word ' in ' receiving; the ictus, adds to 
 the effect of the cjx foot, ' tumbled.' 
 
 once or twice I thought to roar 
 To hreak my c\\ain, to <,\\ake my mane: but thou. 
 Modulate me, Soul of wincing wiwicry ! 
 
 While the great organ almost burst his pipes, 
 Groaning for power, and ro//iiig thro' the court 
 A/ong mc/odious tluinder to the jound 
 Of Jolemn pjalms, and .rilver /ilanies. 
 
 There while we stood beside tlie fount, and watched 
 Or .seemed to watch the ddindng bubble, api)roached 
 Melissa.
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 59 
 
 Here the exceptional foot is an xax. 
 
 And up we came to where the ri\ er sloped 
 
 To plunge in cd.iaraci, shattering on (Jlack blocks 
 
 A (breadth of thunder. 
 
 we wound 
 About the cliffs, the copses, out and in, 
 Hammering and clinking, cha.ttering stony names 
 Of shale and hornblend, rag and trap and tuff, 
 Amygdaloid and trachyte, //// t/ie Sun 
 Grew broader toward his death and fell, and all 
 The rosy heights came out above the lawns. 
 
 Note with what beauty the italicized verses come 
 in after the 'stony names.' 
 
 Then she ' Let some one sing to us : lightlitr move - 
 The ;«inutes fledged with wusic : ' 
 
 So sweet a z/oice and vague, fatal to men, 
 
 Not vassals to be beat, nor pretty babes 
 
 To be dandled, no, but living wills, and sphered 
 
 Whole in ourselves and owed to none. 
 
 hoof by hoof. 
 And every hoof a knell to my desires. 
 Clanged on the bridge ; 
 
 For blind rage she missed the plank, and rolled 
 
 In the river. Out I sprang from glow to gloom : 
 
 There whirled her white robe like a (blossomed (branch 
 
 Hapt to the horrible fall : a glance I gave. 
 
 No more ; but woman vested as I was, 
 
 Plunged ; and the flood drew ; yet I caught her ; then 
 
 Oaring one arm, and bearing in my left 
 
 The weight of all the hopes of half the world, 
 
 Strove to buffet to land in vain. 
 
 The metrical effects of this passage are especially 
 notable. Note effect of the xxa foot, ' In the riv-,'
 
 6o O/iGAXIC VARIETY Ol- MEASURES. 
 
 coming in without a pause, after the prolongable 
 word ' rolled ' ; the alliterations in the third verse ; 
 the initial ax feet of the fourth, sixth, and seventh 
 verses ; the very effective xxa foot, '-ribble fall,' in 
 the fourth verse ; the suggestion of struggle in the 
 two ax feet of the last verse. 
 
 A little space was left between the horns. 
 Thro' whicli I clambered o'er at top with pain, 
 Dropt OH the sward, and up the linden walks. 
 
 Note, too, the effect of the abrupt words, ' Dropt ' 
 and ' up.' 
 
 I heard the /JufTed /Pursuer ; at mine ear 
 . IhtbhUti the nightingale and heeded not. 
 And jecre/ /augh/er /ick/ed a// my sowl. 
 
 above her drooped a lamj), 
 And made the single jewel on her ^row 
 Ihirn like tlie m\slic tire on a m;ist-head, 
 Prophet of storm. 
 
 and close behind her stood 
 Eight daughters of the plough, stronger than men. 
 
 As of some fire against a stormy cloud. 
 When the wild peasant rights him.self, the rick 
 Flames, ami his anger reddens in the heavens ; 
 
 her bre.xst, 
 lliaten with some great passion at her heart, 
 Palpitated, her hand shook, and we heard 
 In tlie dead hush the jjapers that she held 
 Piistle : 
 
 tliey to and fro 
 Eluctitatetl, as flowers in storm, some red, some |)ale, 
 
 and the wild birds on the light 
 Das/t ///^///selves ttcat/.
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. gj 
 
 Or, falling, protomartyr of our cause, 
 Die : 
 
 She, ending, waved her hands : thereat the crowd 
 Muttering, dissolved : 
 
 While I listened, came 
 On a sudden the weird seizure and the doubt : 
 
 Breathing and sounding (beauteous (battle, comes 
 With the air of the. tru/m^tt round him, and leaps in 
 Among the women, snares them by the score, 
 /7fl'/'/'^r^(^/andy7ustered, wins, tho' </ashed with flfeath 
 He reddens what he kisses : 
 
 but other thoughts than Peace 
 Burnt in us, when we saw the embattled squares. 
 And squadrons of the Prince, trampling the flowers 
 With clamour : for among them rose a cry 
 As if to greet the King ; they made a halt ; 
 The horses yelled ; they clashed their arms ; the drum 
 Beat ; merrify-Mowing shrilled the martial fife ; 
 And in the blast and bray of the long horn 
 And serpent-throated bugle, undulat^^ 
 The banner : anon to meet us lightly pranced 
 Three captains out ; 
 
 and standing like a stately Pine 
 Set in a cataract on an island-crag. 
 When storm is on the heights, and right and left 
 Sucked from the dark heart of the long hills roll 
 The torrents, dashed to the vale: 
 
 till a rout of saucy boys 
 Brake on us at our books, and marred our peace. 
 Masked like our maids, blustering 1 know not what 
 Of insolence and love. 
 
 yet whatsoe'er you do, 
 Fight and fight well ; strike and strike home. O dear 
 Brothers, the woman's Angel guards you,
 
 52 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 and once more 
 The trumpet, and again ; at which the storm 
 Of y:;a.\lopini^ hoofs bare on the ridge of spears 
 And riders front to front. 
 
 The large blows rained, as here and everywhere 
 
 He rode the mellay, lord of the rint,'\nii lists. 
 
 And all the plain, — brand, mace, and j//aft, and shield — 
 
 Shocked, like an iron-clanging anvil banged 
 
 With hammers ; 
 
 came 
 As comes a pillar of electric cloud, 
 Flayim; the roofs and sucking up the drains. 
 And shado7Vtn^ (imv/i the champain till it strikes 
 O/i a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and splits. 
 And twists the grain with such a roar that Eirth 
 Reels, and the iierdsnien cry ; 
 
 by them went 
 The enamoured air sigiiing, and on their curls 
 From the high tree the blossom wavering fell. 
 And over them tiie iTcmiilous isles of light 
 Slided, they moving under shade : 
 
 Thro' open field into the lists they wound 
 Timorously ; 
 
 Steps with a tender foot, light as on air, 
 
 Up started from my side 
 The old lion, glaring with his whelplcss eye, 
 Silent ; 
 
 and when she saw 
 The haggard father's face, and reverend beard 
 Of grisly twine, all dabi)Ied with the blood 
 Of his own son, shuddered, a twitch of pain 
 Tortured her mouth, 
 
 to them the doors gave way 
 Groan ntf^.
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 63 
 
 And on they moved and gained the hall, and there 
 Rested : 
 
 she said 
 Brokenly, that she knew it, she had failed 
 In sweet humility ; 
 
 The two-celled heart beating, with one full stroke, 
 Ufe. 
 
 The ax foot, ' beating,' gains additional effect 
 from the monosyllabic words before and after it. 
 The same is true of the preceding ax foot. 
 
 the walls 
 Blackened dihowi us, (Jats wheeled and owls whooped. 
 
 Examples from the ' Idylls of the King.' 
 
 Gareth and Lynette. 
 
 and Gareth loosed the stone 
 From off his neck, then in the mere beside 
 Tumbled it ; oilily bubbled up the mere. 
 
 , The last verse could hardly be more suggestive. 
 Its first two feet are, axx (' Tumbled it '), ^.r (' oili-'), 
 its third, fourth, and fifth are xa. If Milton had 
 written this verse, Dr. Bcntley would no doubt have 
 pronounced it ' absonous ' ; and Dr.' Johnson would 
 have said that ' the law of metre is very grossly vio- 
 lated by mingling combinations of sound directly 
 opposite to each other, ... by committing short and 
 long, and setting one part of the measure at variance 
 with the rest.' Verily, 'the letter killeth, but the 
 spirit giveth life.'
 
 64 ORGA.V/C V.-i'RIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 And Gareth silent gazed upon the knight, 
 
 Who stood a moment, ere his horse was brought, 
 
 Glorying ; 
 
 He spake ; and all at fiery speed the two 
 Shocked on the central bridge, and either spear 
 Bent but not (irake, and either knight at once. 
 Hurled as a stone from out of a cat^->y\\\. 
 Beyond his horse's crupper and the bridge, 
 Fell, as if dead ; 
 
 As if the Hower, 
 That blows a globe of after arrowlets. 
 Ten thousand-fold had grown, /lashed the fx^rc^ j//ield, 
 All sun ; 
 
 Geraint and Enid. 
 And watch his mightful hand striking great blows 
 
 the pang 
 That makes a man, in the sweet face of her 
 Whom he loves most, lonely and miserable. 
 
 The Prince's blood spirted upon the scarf, 
 Dyeing it ; 
 
 And out of town and valley came a noise 
 As of a //road ^rook o'er a shingly ^ed 
 Brawling. 
 
 The voice of Knid, Yniol's daughter, rang 
 Clear thro' the open casement of the Hall, 
 Singing ; 
 
 and thrice 
 They clashed togLllic;-. ami thrice they brake their spears. 
 Then each, disluirsed and drawing, Ia.shed at each 
 So often and with such blows, that all the crowd 
 ITondered, 
 
 liut while the sun yet beat a dewy blade. 
 The sound of many a heavily galloping hoof 
 Smote on her ear. and turning round she .saw 
 Dust, and the points of lances bicker in it.
 
 65 
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 And none spake word, but all sat down at once, 
 And ate with tumult in the naked liall, 
 Feeding like horses when you \\eax them ieedi. ; 
 
 He spoke : the brawny spearman let his cheek 
 
 Bulge with the unswallowed piece, and turning stared; 
 
 Merlin and Vivien. 
 
 And after that she set herself to gain 
 
 Hiiii, the most famous man of all those times, 
 
 Merlin, 
 
 She took the helm and he the sail ; the boat 
 Drove with a sudden wind across the rfeeps, 
 
 But since you name yourself the summer fly, 
 I well could wish a cobweb for the gnat, 
 That j-ettles, <^eaten (Jack, and (beaten (Jack 
 Settles, till one could yield for weariness : 
 
 She ceased, and made her lithe arm round his neck 
 Tighten . 
 
 But Vivien, gathering somewhat of his mood. 
 And hearing ' harlot ' muttered twice or thrice. 
 Leapt from her session on his Zap, and stooA 
 Stiff as a viper frozen ; loathsome sight. 
 How from the rosy Zips of /ife and /ove, 
 Flashed the bare-grinning skeleton of death! 
 White was her cheek ; sharp breaths of anger puffed 
 Her fairy nostril out ; 
 
 She mused a little, and then, clapt her hands 
 Together, with a wailing shriek, and said : 
 Stabbed through the heart's affections to the heart! 
 Seethed like a kid in its own mother's milk! 
 Killed with a word worse than a life of blows! 
 
 The initial ax in three successive verses imparts an 
 abrupt passionate emphasis to the speech.
 
 56 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 And ever overhead 
 Bellowed the tempest, and the rotten branch 
 Snapt in the rushing of the river-rain 
 Above them ; and in change of ^/are and .^Voom 
 Her eyes and neck flittering went and came ; 
 
 Lancelot ami Elaine. 
 
 And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass 
 All in a misty moonshine, unawares 
 Had trodden that crowned skeleton, and the skull 
 Brake from the nape, and turning on its rims 
 FU-d like a gWUering riv\\\ct to tlic /"arn : 
 
 She watched their arms far-off 
 sparkle, until they rt'ipt below the </owns. 
 
 A hermit, who had prayed, laboured and prayed 
 
 and anon 
 The trumpets blew ; and then did either side, 
 They that assailed, and they that held the lists. 
 Set lance in rest, strike spur, sudden\\ move, 
 .Meet in the widst, and there so furiously 
 S/iock, that a man far-otT migiit well i)crceive. 
 If any man that day were left afield. 
 The hard earth shake, and a Imv thunder of arms. 
 
 They couched their spears and pricked their steeds and thus, 
 Their i)lumes driv'n backward by the wind they made 
 In moving, all together down upon him 
 Bare, as a loM Tt^ve in the 7ride North-sea. 
 Green-glimmering toward the summit, /"ears, with all 
 Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies. 
 Down on a tork, and overyears the /ark. 
 And //im that //elms it, so they overbore 
 Sir I^mtelot and his charger, and a si)ear 
 iJown-iilaiicing lamed the charger, and a spear
 
 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 67 
 
 Pricked sharply his own cuirass, and the head 
 Pierced thro" his side, and there snapt, and remained. 
 
 And all wearied of the quest 
 Leapt on his horse, and c^irolliin^as lie went 
 A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 
 
 Guinevere. 
 
 aroused 
 Lancelot, who nishing outward /ion/ike 
 Leapt on Jiitn, and //ur/ed Jam. //ead/ong, and /^e fe// 
 Stunned, and his creatures took and bore Iiini oft' 
 And all was still : 
 
 but she to Almesbury 
 Fled all night long by glimmering waste and Ti'eald, 
 And heard the Spirits of the waste and weald 
 Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them moan : 
 And in herself she moaned ' too late, too late ! ' 
 Till in the cold wind that foreruns the morn, 
 A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying high. 
 Croaked, and she thought ' he spies a field of death ; ' 
 
 And still at evenings on before his horse 
 The dickering fairy circle wheeled and broke 
 Flying, and linked again, and wheeled and broke 
 Flying, for all the /and was full of life. 
 
 There rode an armed warrior to the doors. 
 A murmuring whisper thro" the nunnery ran. 
 Then on a sudden a cry, ' the King.' She sat 
 Stiff-stricken, l/'stenmg ; 
 
 The alliteration and the repetition of the fin 'Stiff,' 
 'strick,' 'list,' '-ing,' aid the effect of the initial ax\ 
 or to these perhaps is due the chief effect.
 
 68 ORGANIC VARIETY OF MEASURES. 
 
 For perfect grace and an airy lightsomeness of 
 movement ; for melody and harmony, in all their 
 various forms, from the most easily appreciable up to 
 the most subtle ; for organic variety of measures, 
 such as is exhibited in the passages given above, and 
 for almost every other element of poetic expressive- 
 ness, the young student can read no poems superior 
 to the 'Idylls of the King,' — none that will serve 
 better to tune his feelings to organic poetic form.
 
 VI. 
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 
 
 NO one can read, however superficially, the poetry 
 of Tennyson, without feeling to some extent the 
 adaptedncss of his rhythms, metres, stanzas, rhyme- 
 schemes, melody, harmony, and whatever else is 
 embraced under the comprehensive idea of poetic 
 form, to the theme and the entire spiritual motive. 
 His forms are instinct with the indwelling spirit, 
 and have grown out of it. ' Of the soul, the body 
 form doth take.' * Maud ' is a treasure-house of 
 organic poetic forms, Peter Bayne's opinion to the 
 contrary, notwithstanding, that ' its music is the 
 music of kettle-drums at a recruits' ball,' and that 
 ' the poem in general will never be recognized as 
 tuneful by the human ear.' The ever-varying 
 rhythm, metre, and stanza, correspond with, sym- 
 bolize, and incarnate the ever-varying subjective 
 states and moods of the speaker, who is grief- 
 fraught and ' perplexed in the extreme.' 
 
 The Stanza of ' In Memoriam' 
 
 In the verse of ' In Memoriam,' instinct as it is 
 with a sanctified sorrow, there 
 
 69
 
 70 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 
 
 Is nothing sudden, nothing single : 
 Like two streams of incense free 
 
 From one censer, in one shrine, 
 
 Thought and motion mingle. 
 Mingle ever. Motions flow 
 To one another, even as the' 
 They were modulated so 
 
 To an unheard melody.* 
 
 There is sweet music here that softer falls 
 
 Than petals from blown roses on tlie grass. 
 
 Or night-dews on still waters between walls 
 
 Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass ; 
 
 Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, 
 
 Tlian tired eyelids upon tired eyes : 
 
 Music tliat brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. 
 
 Here are cool mo.sses deep. 
 
 And thro" the moss the ivies creep. 
 
 And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep." 
 
 An interesting study of rhynic-cffcct is afforded 
 by the stanza of ' In Memoriam.' Thou<;h the stanza 
 is not original with Tenny.son ( Hen Jonson having 
 employed it in an F^legy'Mn his ' Underwoods," and 
 Dante Gabriel Rossetti, just before the ' In Memo- 
 nam ' apj)eared, in 'My Sister's Sleep '). Tennyson 
 has made it peculiarly his own by the toning he has 
 imparted to it. 
 
 By the rhyme-scheme of the quatrain, the terminal 
 rhyme-emphasis of the stanza is reduced, the second 
 and third verses being the mo.st closely braced by the 
 
 • * Elcfinorc' " 'The Lotos-caters.' 
 
 • In nine Stan/as, l)Cj;innin^; : 
 
 Though l»eauty l)c the mark of praittc, 
 
 And yours, of whom I iing. l>e »uch 
 
 An not the world can praJM- lo<i much, 
 Yd i»'t your virtue now I raise.
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. yi 
 
 rhyme. The stanza is thus admirably adapted to 
 that sweet continuity of flow, free from abrupt checks, 
 demanded by the spiritualized sorrow which it bears 
 along. Alternate rhyme would have wrought an 
 entire change in the tone of the poem. To be assured 
 of this, one should read, aloud, of course, all the 
 stanzas whose first and second, or third and fourth, 
 verses admit of being transposed without affecting 
 the sense. By such transposition, the rhymes are 
 made alternate, and the concluding rhymes more 
 emphatic. There are as many as ninety-one such 
 stanzas; and of these, there arc thirteen of which 
 either the first and second, or third and fourth, verses 
 may be transposed without any violence done to the 
 sense. These stanzas should each be read, first as 
 they stand in the poem, and then with the first two, 
 or the last two, verses transposed. 
 
 The following stanzas admit of having their third 
 and fourth verses transposed. 
 
 Old Yew, which graspest at the stones 
 
 That name the under-lying dead. 
 
 Thy fibres net the dreamless head, 
 Thy roots are wrapt about the bones. 
 
 — ii. I. 
 
 To-night the winds begin to rise 
 
 And roar from yonder dropping day : 
 
 The last red leaf is whirled away. 
 The rooks are blown about the skies. 
 
 — XV. I. 
 
 Still onward winds the dreary way ; 
 I with it ; for I long to prove 
 No lapse of moons can conquer Love, 
 
 Whatever fickle tongues may say.
 
 72 
 
 SOME OF TEA'N y SOX'S STAXZAS. 
 
 Man, her last work, who seemed so fair. 
 Such splendid purpose in his eyes. 
 Who rolled tlic psalm to wintry skies, 
 . Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer. 
 
 Who breaks his birth's invidious bar. 
 And grasps the skirts of happy chance. 
 And breasts the blows of circumstance. 
 
 And grapples with his evil star ; 
 
 And moving up from high to higher, 
 liecomes on Fortune's crowning slope 
 The pillar of a people's hope, 
 
 The centre of a world's desire ; 
 
 Yet feels, as in a pensive dream, 
 WMien all his active powers are still, 
 A distant dearness in the hill, 
 
 A secret sweetness in the stream. 
 
 He reached the glory of a hand, 
 Tiiat seemed to touch it into leaf; 
 The voice was not the voice of grief, 
 
 Tlie words were hard to understand. 
 
 Beside the river's wooded reach. 
 The fortress and the mountain ridge. 
 The cataract flashing from the bridge. 
 
 The breaker breaking on the beach. 
 
 Bring orchis, bring tlic foxglove spire. 
 The little s|)eedweirs darling blue. 
 Deep tulips dash'd with fiery dew. 
 
 Laburnums, dropping-wclls of fire. 
 
 Whereat we glanced from theme to theme, 
 Discussed the books to love or hate. 
 Or touched the changes of the state. 
 
 Or threaded some Socratic dream ; 
 
 — Ivi. 3. 
 
 ' bciv. 3, 
 
 -IxJv. 4. 
 
 — Ixiv. 5. 
 
 — Ixlx. 5. 
 
 — Ixxi. 4. 
 
 — Ixxxiii. 3. 
 
 — Ixxxix. 9.
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 73 
 
 Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
 
 The civic slander and the spite ; 
 
 Ring in the love of truth and right, 
 Ring in the common love of good. 
 
 — cvi. 6. 
 
 See, also, Introductory poem, 4, 5 ; iii. i ; xvi. 5 ; 
 XX. 2 ; XXV. 2 ; xxviii. 3 ; xxxvii. 3 ; xxxviii. 3 ; xli. i ; 
 xliii. I ; xlix. 3 ; liii. i ; Ixi. 2 ; Ixiv. 6 ; Ixvi. 4 ; Ixix. i ; 
 Ixxii. 6; Ixxiv. 2 ; Ixxviii. 3 ; Ixxxiv. 5; Ixxxv. i, 9; 
 Ixxxvii. 6 ; Ixxxviii. i ; xc. 3 ; xci. 2 ; xciv. 3 ; c. 2 ; 
 cii. 3 ; cviii. 4 ; Concluding poem, 27. 
 
 The following stanzas admit of having their first 
 and second verses transposed : 
 
 I sometimes hold it half a sin 
 
 To put in words the grief I feel ; 
 
 For words, like Nature, half reveal 
 And half conceal the Soul within. 
 
 -V. I. 
 
 And doubtful joys the father move, 
 And tears are on the mother's face, 
 As parting with a long embrace 
 
 She enters other realms of love ; 
 
 From art, from nature, from the schools. 
 Let random influences glance. 
 Like light in many a shivered lance 
 
 That breaks about the dappled pools ; 
 
 The mystic glory swims away ; 
 
 From off my bed the moonlight dies ; 
 
 And, closing eaves of wearied eyes, 
 I sleep till dusk is dipt in gray : 
 
 The yule-clog sparkled keen with frost, 
 No wing of wind the region swept. 
 But over all things brooding slept 
 
 The quiet sense of something lost. 
 
 — xl. 3. 
 
   xlix. I. 
 
 — Ixvii. 3. 
 
 — Ixxviii. 2.
 
 74 
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 
 
 As in the winters left behind, 
 
 Again our ancient games had place. 
 The mimic picture's breathing grace, 
 
 And dance and song and hoodman-blind. 
 
 At one dear knee we proffered vows. 
 One lesson from one book we learned. 
 Ere childhood's flaxen ringlet turned 
 
 To black and brown on kindred brows. 
 
 Dip down upon the northern shore, 
 O sweet new year delaying long ; 
 Thou doest expectant nature wrong ; 
 
 Delaying long, delay no more. 
 
 — Ixxviii. 3. 
 
 — Ixxix. 4. 
 
 — Ixxxiii. I. 
 
 See, also, Introductory poem, 3; i. 3 ; iii. i ; iv. i, 
 4 ; viii. 5 ; ix. 4 ; xv. 2 ; xxx. i ; xxxiii. 3 ; Hi. 2 ; Ivi. 
 5 ; Ixxiii. 2 ; Ixxviii. i ; Ixxx. 3 ; xcvi. 4 ; xcvii. 6 ; civ. 
 I ; cxv. 2 ; cxxi. 2 ; cxxii. 5 ; cxxv. i ; cxxviii. 5 ; cxxx. i ; 
 Concluding poem, i. 
 
 The following stanzas admit of having either their 
 first and second, or third and fourth, verses trans- 
 posed : 
 
 I hear the noise about thy keel ; 
 I hear the bell staick in the night ; 
 I see the ailjin-window Ijright ; 
 I .see the sailor at the wheel. 
 
 — X. I. 
 
 I hold it true, whatc'er befall ; 
 
 I feel it when I sorrow most ; 
 
 'Tis better to have loved and lost 
 Than never to have loved at all. 
 
 Whatever way my days decline. 
 I felt and feel, tho' left alone. 
 His being working in mine own, 
 
 The footsteps of his life in mine. 
 
 — XX vu. 4. 
 
 — Ixxxv. tl.
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 75 
 
 See, also, x. i; xxxi. 3; Iv. 2; Ix. 3; lix. 3; Ixxxv. 9; 
 cvi. 2 ; cvi. 7 ; cxxviii. 4 ; cxxx. 3 ; cxxx. 4. 
 
 These stanzas should all be read aloud by the 
 student, as they stand in the poem, and then with 
 the first and second, or third and fourth, verses trans- 
 posed as indicated. If he has any susceptibility what- 
 ever to rhyme-effect, he must feel the change wrought 
 in the character of the stanzas by making their rhymes 
 alternate. 
 
 The poem could not have laid hold of so many 
 hearts as it has, had the rhymes been alternate, even 
 if the thought-element had been the same. The 
 atmosphere of the poem would not have served so 
 well to conduct the indefinitely spiritual element 
 which constitutes the essential life of the poem. The 
 twelfth section affords a good illustration of the 
 adaptedness of the stanza (due to the reduction of 
 the terminal emphasis by means of the rhyme-scheme) 
 to an uninterrupted flow of thought and feeling. The 
 poet, in his impatience for the arrival of the vessel 
 which is bearing the remains of his friend to Eng- 
 land, represents himself as leaving the body, and 
 hastening away, in spirit, ' o'er ocean-mirrors rounded 
 large,' to meet it : 
 
 Lo, as a dove when up she springs 
 To bear thro' Heaven a tale of woe, 
 Some dolorous message knit below 
 
 The wild pulsation of her wings ; 
 
 Like her I go : I cannot stay ; 
 I leave this mortal ark behind, 
 A weight of nerves without a mind. 
 
 And leave the cliffs, and haste away
 
 76 SOME OF TEXNYSOX'S STAX/.AS. 
 
 O'er ocean-mirrors rounded large, 
 And reach the glow of southern skies, 
 And see the sails at distance rise, 
 
 And linger weeping on the marge, 
 
 And saying, ' Comes he thus, my friend? 
 Is this the end of all my care? ' 
 And circle moaning in the air: 
 • Is this the end? Is this the end? ' 
 
 And fonvard dart again, and play 
 
 Aljout the prow, and back return 
 
 To where the body sits, and learn. 
 That I have been an hour away. 
 
 No Other stanza, with a stronfji^r terminal emphasis, 
 could so aesthetically express the Hight of eager 
 desire, as it is expressed here. 
 
 A still more remarkable illustration of the peculiar 
 adaptedness of the stanza is afforded by the eighty- 
 sixth section. The four stanzas of which it is com- 
 posed con.stitute but one period, the sense being 
 suspended till the close. The rhyme-emphasis is 
 so distributed that any one, hearing the j)ocm 
 read, would hardly be sensible of any the slightest 
 Aecks in the continuous and even movement of the 
 verse. 
 
 The poet addresses the sweet western evening air, 
 after a shower, and invokes it to fan his brow.s, and 
 blow the fever from his cheek, and sigh the full new 
 life that feeds its breath, throughout his fame. The 
 poem, in its movement, is like a rhythmical zephyr. 
 The reposeful ending on the final word * Peace ' has 
 a great charm :
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. yy 
 
 Sweet after showers, ambrosial air, 
 That rollest from the gorgeous gloom 
 Of evening over brake and bloom 
 
 And meadow, slowly breathing bare 
 
 The round of space, and rapt below 
 Thro' all the dewy-tasselled wood, 
 And shadowing down the horned flood 
 
 In ripples, fan my brows and blow 
 
 The fever from my cheek, and sigh 
 The full new life that feeds thy breath 
 Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death, 
 
 111 brethren, let the fancy fly 
 
 From belt to belt of crimson seas 
 
 On leagues of odor streaming far, 
 
 To where in yonder orient star 
 A hundred spirits whisper ' Peace.' 
 
 The third verse of the ' In Memoriam ' stanza 
 receives a stronger rhyme-emphasis than the fourth, 
 by reason of its rhyming with an adjacent verse ; 
 but in this eighty-sixth section that emphasis is 
 somewhat reduced, by the very slight pause which 
 is required, in reading, at the end of the third verse. 
 In fact, no pause whatever is required there, in the 
 first and second stanzas. 
 
 There is no other section of ' In Memoriam ' in 
 which the artistic motive oY the stanza is so evident. 
 
 In reading this section, an equaHty of vocal move- 
 ment should be preserved throughout. See, also, 
 XV. St. 3-5; xcvi. St. 4-6; xcviii. st. 3-8; cxviii; cxxvii. 
 St. 3-5 ; cxxxi.
 
 78 SOME OF TENXYSON'S STAXZAS. 
 
 The Sianza of ' 7'/it- 7u>o Voicis.' 
 
 What the i)oct, in the ' In Memoiiani ' aimed to 
 avoid, in ' The Two Voices ' he aimed to secure, 
 namely, a close emphasized stanza. The poem con- 
 sists, in great part, of a succession of short, epigram- 
 matic arguments, pro and con, to which the stanza is 
 well adapted. It is composed of three short verses — 
 4-ra — all rhyming together. The terminal rhyme- 
 emphasis, to which the shortness of the verses also 
 contributes, is accordingly strong, and imparts a very 
 distinct individuality to each and every stanza. 
 
 The following stanzas from the opening of the 
 poem, afford sufficient illustrations of the adaptedness 
 of the stanza to the theme : 
 
 A .still .small voice .spake unto me, 
 ' Thou art .so full of misery. 
 Were it not better not to be ? ' 
 
 Then to the still small voice I .said : 
 ' Let me not cast in endless shade 
 What is so wonderfully made.' 
 
 To which the voice did urge rejjly : 
 
 ' To-day I .saw the dragon-fly 
 
 Come from the wells where he did lie. 
 
 ' An inner impulse rent the veil 
 Of his old husk : from head to tail 
 Came out clear jjlates of sapi)hire mail. 
 
 ' He dried his wings : like gauze they grew : 
 Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew 
 A living flash of light he flew.'
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. yc^ 
 
 I said, ' When first the world began, 
 Young Nature thro' five cycles ran. 
 And in the sixth she moulded man. 
 
 ' She gave him mind, the lordliest 
 Proportion, and above the rest, 
 Dominion in the head and breast.' 
 
 Thereto the silent voice replied : 
 ' Self-blinded are you by your pride : 
 Look up thro' night : the world is wide. 
 
 ' This truth within thy mind rehearse, 
 
 That in a boundless universe 
 
 Is boundless better, boundless worse. 
 
 ' Think you this mould of hopes and fears 
 Could find no statelier than his peers 
 In yonder hundred million spheres ? ' 
 
 It spake, moreover, in my mind : 
 
 ' Tho' thou wert scattered to the wind, 
 
 Yet is there plenty of the kind.' 
 
 Then did my response clearer fall : 
 ' No compound of this earthly ball 
 Is like another, all in all.' 
 
 To which he answered scoffingly : 
 ' Good soul! .suppose I grant it thee, 
 Who'll weep for thy deficiency?' 
 
 The Stanza of 'The Palace of Art: 
 
 In lines sent with the poem to a friend, the poet 
 calls it ' a sort of allegory ' ... of a soul, 
 
 A sinful soul possessed of many gifts, . . . 
 That did love Beauty only, (Beauty seen 
 In all varieties of mould and mind,) 
 And Knowledge for its Beauty ; or if Good,
 
 8o SOAfE OF TENNYSO.V'S STANZAS. 
 
 Good only for its Beauty, seeing not 
 Tiuit Beauty, Good, and Knowledge, are three sisters 
 That dote upon each other, friends to man, 
 Living together under the same roof. 
 And never can be sundered without tears. 
 And he that shuts Love out, in turn shall he 
 Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie 
 Howling in outer darkness. . . . 
 
 The lordly pleasure-house, the palace of art, which 
 this beauty-worshipping Soul built for herself, was, 
 she says, full of great rooms and small, all various, 
 each a perfect whole from living Nature, fit for every 
 mood and change of her still soul. Some .were hung 
 with arras (tapestry), in which were inwoven land- 
 scapes, marine views, sacred, legendary, and mytho- 
 logical designs, etc. 
 
 These pictures constitute a prominent feature of 
 the poem ; and it is evident that the poet adoj^ted the 
 stanza employed by reason of its pictorial capabilities. 
 It is a close stanza, having an abrupt but, at the same 
 time, a strangely reposeful cadence. It consists of 
 four xa verses : the first is pentameter, the second, 
 tetrameter, the third, pentameter, again, and the 
 fourth, trimeter. The rhyme-scheme is alnib. Now, 
 in quatrains, consisting of verses of equal length, the 
 rhymes being alternate, the rhyme-enforcement of 
 the third and the fourth verses, is about equal, imless 
 one of the rhymes be on a broader vowel than the 
 other. In the stanza before us the poet has secured 
 an extra enforcement of the final ver.se by making it 
 shorter by two feet than the first and third, and 
 shorter by one foot than the second. Its exceptional
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. gl 
 
 length alone enforces it ; and being shorter, the 
 rhyme-emphasis is increased, because the rhyming 
 words are brought closer together. It is felt that it 
 would not have served the poet's purpose to have 
 enforced it by making it longer than the other verses ; 
 for a sweeping close would thus have been imparted 
 to the stanza, inconsistent with the repose of his 
 pictures, and with the general repose of the poem. 
 
 But to say thus much is to say very little indeed of 
 this remarkable stanza. The melody of individual 
 verses, the harmony which blends them into stanzas, 
 and the whole atmosphere of the poem, belong almost 
 exclusively to the domain of feeling, and are quite 
 beyond analysis. But the subtle adaptation of the 
 stanza to a pictorial purpose must be distinctly felt 
 by every susceptible reader. Tennyson has made it 
 forever as peculiarly his own as he has made the 
 stanza of ' In Memoriam.' No future poet, certainly, 
 will ever use them so organically. 
 
 'The stanza of "The Palace of Art,'" says Peter 
 Baync, ' is novel, and it is only by degrees that its 
 exquisite adaptation to the style and thought of the 
 poem is perceived. The ear instinctively demands, 
 in the second and fourth lines, a body of sound not 
 much less than that of the first and third ; but in 
 Tennyson's stanza, the fall in the fourth line is com- 
 plete ; the body of sound in the second and fourth 
 lines is not nearly sufficient to balance that in the 
 first and third ; and the consequence is, that the ear 
 dwells on the alternate lines, especially on the fourth, 
 stopping there to listen to the whole verse, to gather 
 up its whole sound and sense. I do not know whether
 
 82 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 
 
 Tennyson ever contemplated scientifically the efifect 
 of this. I should think it far more likely, and indica- 
 tive of far higher genius, that he did not. But no 
 means could be conceived for setting forth, to such 
 advantage, those separate pictures, " each a perfect 
 whole," which constitute so great a portion of the 
 poem.' 
 
 The following are some of the picture-stanzas, ' each 
 a perfect whole ' : 
 
 One seemed all dark and red — a tract of sand, 
 
 And some one pacing there alone. 
 Who paced forever in a glimmering land. 
 
 Lit with a low large moon. 
 
 One showed an iron coa.st and angry waves. 
 
 You seemed to hear them ciiml) and fall 
 And roar rock-thwarted under i)cllowing caves, 
 
 Beneath the windy wall. 
 
 And one, a full-fed river winding slow 
 
 By herds upon an endless plain, 
 The ragged rims of thunder brooding low, 
 
 With shadow-streaks of rain. 
 
 And one, the reapers at their sultry toil. 
 
 In front they bound the sheaves. Behind 
 Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil. 
 
 And hoary to the wind. 
 
 And one, a foreground black with stones and slags. 
 
 Beyond a line of heights, and higher 
 All barred with long white cloud the .scornful crags. 
 
 And highest, snow and fire. 
 
 And one, an English home, — gray twilight poured 
 
 On dewy pastures, dewy trees. 
 Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, 
 
 A haunt of ancient Peace.
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 83 
 
 Or the maid-mother by a crucifix, 
 
 In tracts of pasture sunny-warm. 
 Beneath branch-work of costly sardonyx 
 
 Sat smiling, babe in arm. 
 
 Or in a clear-walled city on the sea. 
 
 Near gilded organ-pipes, her hair 
 Wound with white roses, slept St. Cecily ; 
 
 An angel looked at her. 
 
 Or thronging all one porch of Paradise, 
 
 A group of Houris bowed to see 
 The dying Islamite, with hands and eyes 
 
 That said, we wait for thee. 
 
 Or Mythic Uther's deeply-wounded son ^ 
 
 In some fair space of sloping greens 
 Lay, dozing in the vale of Avalon, 
 
 And watched by weeping queens. 
 
 Or hollowing one hand against his ear. 
 
 To list a footfall, ere he saw 
 The wood-nymph, stayed the Ausonian king 2 to hear 
 
 Of wisdom and of law.^ 
 
 Or over hills with peaky tops engrailed,* 
 
 And many a tract of palm and rice. 
 The throne of Indian Cama ^ slowly sailed 
 
 A summer fanned with spice. 
 
 Or sweet Europa's mantle blew unclasped 
 
 From off her shoulder backward borne : 
 From one hand drooped a crocus : one hand grasped 
 
 The mild bull's golden horn. 
 
 It is well known that Tennyson has been a deep 
 student of the art of form and color. But if this 
 
 1 King Arthur. ^ Numa Pompilius. 
 
 » /.<•. from the Nymph Egeria. * Indented. 
 
 & The Hindu god of Love, son of Vischnu, represented as ridinj^ on 
 the back of a parrot.
 
 84 
 
 SOME OF TENNYSOX'S STANZAS. 
 
 were not known, it would be naturally inferred by 
 any appreciative reader of ' The Palace of Art.' 
 
 The student of verse should memorize these pic- 
 ture-stanzas, and often repeat them, if he would 
 finally appreciate their subtler merits. 
 
 The Stanzas of ' The Daisy ' and ' To Rev. F. D. Maurice: 
 
 The stanzas of the two graceful little poems, ' The 
 Daisy' and 'To the Rev. Y. 1). Maurice,' are inter- 
 esting. The following are their first stanzas: 
 
 O Love, what hours were thine and mine. 
 In land.s of palm and .soutliern pine; 
 
 In lands of i)alm, of oranj.;e-l)lo.s.som. 
 Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine. 
 
 Come, when no graver care.s employ, 
 God-father, come and see your boy : 
 
 Your ijre.sence will be sun in winter. 
 Making the little one leap for joy. 
 
 The first three verses of each are4;rrt, the third 
 verse having an additional light syllable. The rhyme- 
 schemes are the same in both : the first, second, and 
 fourth verses rhyme together. The third verse is 
 non-rhyming. A strong rhyme-emphasis consequently 
 falls on the last verse of each stanza, an emphasis 
 not reduced by any other rhyme. The last verse of 
 the stanza of 'The Daisy' is further enforced, and a 
 playful effect is imparted to it, by the penultimate 
 xxa ; and the enforcement of the last verse of the 
 .stanza of the other poem, and the jilayful effect, arc 
 carried still further, by its being composed ol two
 
 SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 
 
 85 
 
 axx and an axa feet. The additional light syllabic of 
 the third verse of the stanza of each poem impresses 
 as an anticipation of the rhythmical dance in the last 
 
 verse. 
 
 Tennyson always adheres very strictly to his verse- 
 schemes, whatever they are, and never departs from 
 them unless there be a very special emotional motive 
 for a departure. In these two poems there is no 
 departure whatever, and the skill shown in strictly 
 maintaining, throughout, the exceptional feet, in the 
 final verses of the stanzas, is admirable, especially in 
 those of the poem 'To the Rev. F. D. Maurice.' 
 
 The following are the final verses of the stanzas of 
 the latter poem. The two axx and the axa feet come 
 out in each with an apparent spontaneity: 
 
 Making the little one leap for joy. 
 Thunder ' Anathema,' friend at you. 
 (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight. 
 Close to the ridge of a noble down. 
 Garrulous under a roof of pine. 
 Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand. 
 Glimmer away to the lonely deep. 
 Emperor, Ottoman, which shall win. 
 Dear to the man that is dear to God. 
 Valor and charity more and more. 
 Crocus, anemone, violet. 
 Many and many a happy year. 
 
 For delicacy of sentiment and playful grace, ' The 
 Daisy ' is unsurpassed. The beauty of the three
 
 86 • SOME OF TENNYSON'S STANZAS. 
 
 Stanzas, which are somewhat of a higher strain, de- 
 voted to Milan Cathedral and the outlook from its 
 roofs, could hardly any further go. The brilliant 
 rhyme-vowel of the first stanza is very effective : 
 
 Milan, O the chanting quires. 
 The giant windows' blazoned fires, 
 
 The height, the space, the gloom, the glory! 
 A mount of marl)Ie, a hundred spires! 
 
 1 climbed the roofs at break of day ; 
 Sun-smitten Ali)s before me lay. 
 
 I stood among tlie silent statues. 
 And statued pinnacles, mute as they. 
 
 How faintly-flushed, how phantom-fair. 
 Was Monte Rosa, hanging there 
 
 A thousand sliadowy-pencilled valleys 
 And snowy dells in a golden air.
 
 VII. 
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 THE Spenserian stanza calls for a special presen- 
 tation and analysis, as it is one of the noblest 
 of stanzas employed in English poetry, and includes 
 within itself the greatest variety of the elements of 
 poetic form. 
 
 No English poets have surpassed Spenser, in a 
 melodious marshalling of words. The following 
 stanzas, descriptive of the Bower of Bliss, have been 
 frequently cited in illustration of this : 
 
 Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, ■^ 
 
 Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, 
 Such as attonce might not on living ground, 
 
 Save in this Paradise, be heard elsewhere : 
 Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, 
 
 To read what manner musicke that mote bee ; c 
 For all that pleasing is to living eare 
 
 Was there consorted in one harmonee ; 
 
 Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree : 
 
 The joyous birdes, shrouded in chearefull shade 
 
 Their notes unto the voice attempred sweet ; 
 Th' Angelicall soft trembling voyces made 
 
 To th' instruments divine respondence meet ; 
 
 The silver sounding instnmients did meet 
 With the base murmure of the waters fall ; 
 
 The waters fall with difference discreet, 
 
 87
 
 88 THE SPENSER/AN STANZA. 
 
 Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call ; 
 The gentle warbling wind low answered to all. 
 
 — 3. la. 70, 71.' 
 
 As another example, take the following stanza 
 from the description of the abode of Morpheus : 
 
 And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, 
 
 A trickling streame from high rock tuml)ling downe. 
 
 And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, 
 
 Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne 
 Of swarming Hecs did cast him in a swowne. 
 
 No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes. 
 As still are wont V annoy the walled towne. 
 
 Migiit there i)c heard; hut carelesse Quiet lyes • 
 
 Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes. 
 
 — I. t. 4'. 
 
 The Spenserian stanza is composed of nine verses, 
 eight of them being t^xa, or heroic, and the ninth 6xa, 
 or an alexandrine. It has been common with Spenser's 
 critics to speak of his stanza as being the Italian ottava 
 rima, with the alexandrine added. John Hughes, who 
 edited Si)enser's Works, with Life, etc., in 1715, says: 
 'As to the stanza in which the "Faerie Queene " is 
 written, though the author cannot be commended 
 for his choice of it [he does not tell us why], yet it 
 is much more harmonious in its kind than the heroic 
 verse of that age ; it is almost the same with what 
 the Italians call their ottnva riuia, which is u.sed 
 both by Ariosto and Tasso, but improved by Spenser, 
 with the addilif)n of a line more in the rld'^.-, of the 
 
 ' In locating stan/as, quoted from the •Faerie Queene,' the first 
 number will refer to the l>ook, the scconil to the canto, and the third 
 number, ur numbers, tu the stanza or ttanzas.
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 89 
 
 length of our alexandrines.' When he says 'it is 
 almost the same with what the Italians call the 
 ottava rima,' he means, as he himself shows, that it 
 differs from it only in having the additional line. 
 And Thomas Warton, in his ' Observations on the 
 Faerie Queene,' says, ' Although Spenser's favorite, 
 Chaucer, made use of the ottava rivia, or stanza of 
 eight lines, yet it seems probable that Spenser was 
 principally induced to adopt it, with the addition of 
 one line, from the practice of Ariosto and Tasso, the 
 most fashionable poets of his age. But Spenser, in 
 choosing this stanza, did not sufficiently consider the 
 genius of the English language which does not easily 
 fall into a frequent repetition of the same termina- 
 tion ; a circumstance natural to the Italian, which 
 deals largely in identical cadences.' 
 
 Here we have a number of misstatements. Both 
 Hughes and Warton regarded the Spenserian stanza 
 as the ottava riuia of the Italian poets, with an 
 extra line ; and Warton makes the additional mis- 
 statement that the ottava riina was used by Chaucer. 
 Now the eight verses to which Spenser added a ninth, 
 are not the ottava rinia at all, for the reason that they 
 are differently bound together by the rhyme-scheme, 
 and that makes all the difference in the world. We 
 could as well say that any stanza consisting of four 
 ^xa verses, is the same as the stanza of Tennyson's 
 'In Memoriam.' In the ottava ritna there are but 
 two rhymes in the first six lines, the rhyme-scheme 
 being: abababcc. Such a rhyme-scheme, especially 
 in the Italian, with -its great similarity of endings, 
 is ' too monotonously iterative ; ' and the rhyming coup-
 
 QO THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 let at the close seems, as James Russell Lowell 
 expresses it, 'to put on the brakes with a jar.' 
 
 Fairfax employs the ottava rima in his translation 
 of Tasso's 'Jerusalem Delivered'; and j:jreat as is the 
 poetical merit of this translation, the reader soon tires 
 of the rhyme-scheme, the avera<;e resonance of which 
 is illustrated by the following stanza. Where the 
 vowels of the rhyminpj words are all brij^ht or broad, 
 the resonance is still greater than in this stanza : 
 
 Her cheeks on which this streaming nectar fell. 
 Stilled thro' the limbeck of her diamond eyes, 
 
 The roses wliite and red resembled well, 
 Whereon the roary May-dew sprinkled lies. 
 
 When the fair moon first bliishcth from her cell. 
 And l)reathcth balm from opened Paradise ; 
 
 Thus sighed, thus mourned, thus wept this lovely queen, 
 
 And in each drop bathM a grace unseen. 
 
 — Ilk. iv. 75. 
 
 It sometimes happens that the rhyme in the con- 
 cluding couplet is on the same vowel as is one of the 
 rhymes in the sestet. In such case, the ear is still 
 more pestered with identity of sound. The following 
 stanzas, and there are many such, afford examples of 
 this: 
 
 It was the time when 'gainst the breaking Day 
 Rebellious iN'ight yet strove, and still rcjjined ; 
 
 For in the Kast appeared the Morning gniy. 
 
 And yet .some lamps in Jove's high I'alace siiined. 
 
 When to Mount Olivet he took his way, 
 
 And .saw (as round about his Kycs he twined) 
 
 Night's shadows hence, from thence the Morning's shine, 
 
 This briglit, that dark ; that Earthly, this Divine. 
 
 — Uk. xviii. bl. la.
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 91 
 
 Such as on Stages play, such as we see 
 
 The Dryads painted, when wild Satyrs love, 
 
 Whose Arms half naked ; Locks untruss^d be, 
 With Buskins laced on their Legs above, 
 
 And silken Robes tuckt short above their knee ; 
 Such seemed the Silvian Daughters of this Grove, 
 
 Save that in stead of Shafts and Boughs of Tree, 
 
 She bore a Lute, a Harp, or Cittern she. 
 
 — Bk. xviii. st. 27. 
 
 In the last stanza, the rhyme of the concluding 
 couplet is a continuation (by chance, no doubt) of 
 the rhyme of verses i, 3, and 5.' There are many 
 other stanzas of this kind. But the poet, and not 
 the stanza, is here responsible. 
 
 The Epilogue to Milton's ' Lycidas ' is strictly 
 fashioned after the ottava riina of the Italians, except 
 that the rhymes are not female rhymes. Such rhymes 
 would not suit the tone of the poem. 
 
 Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, 
 While the still morn went out with sandals gray : 
 
 He touched the tender stops of various quills,^ 
 With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : ^ 
 
 And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, ^ 
 And now was dropt into the western bay. 
 
 At last he rose and twitched his mantle blue : 
 
 To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new. 
 
 The Elegy having come to an end, the ottava rima 
 is employed, with an admirable artistic effect, to mark 
 
 ^In this lay ' the tender stops of various quills' had been touched; 
 i.e. there had been changes of mood and minute changes of metre in 
 it (Masson). 
 
 2 ' Doric lay ' : pastoral elegy ; so called because the Greek pastoral 
 poets, Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus wrote in the Doric dialect. 
 
 3 i.e. their shadows; 'majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbta: ' 
 (Virgil's Ed. i. 84).
 
 92 
 
 THE SPENSERIAX STAXZA. 
 
 off the Epilogue in which Milton drops the character of 
 a bereaved shepherd, and speaks in his own person. 
 
 Byron was fond of the ottava rima, and wrote in 
 this stanza 'Don Juan' (1976 stanzas), ' Beppo ' 
 (99 stanzas), ' Morgante Maggiore' (86 stanzas), and 
 the 'Vision oi Judgment' (106 stanzas); in all, 
 2267 stanzas, comprising 18,136 xa pentameter 
 verses. The demands which it makes on the rhym- 
 ing capabilities of the language, he meets with a 
 surprising facility. Those capabilities are more 
 fully exhibited in 'Don Juan' than in any other 
 production in English poetry. 
 
 To return to the Spenserian stanza : 
 
 If Spenser was indebted to any one for the eight 
 lines of his stanza, he was indebted to his master 
 Chaucer, who, in the ' Monk's Tale,' uses an eight- 
 line stanza with a rhyme-scheme identical with that 
 of the eight heroic lines of the Spenserian stanza, 
 that scheme being ababbcbc. 
 
 Chaucer also uses this stanza in his 'ABC (a 
 Hymn to the Virgin), in ' L' Envoy de Chaucer a liuk- 
 ton,' and in ' Ballade de Vilage sauns Peynture.' 
 The Envoy to his 'Conipleynte of a Loveres Lyfe ' 
 (or, the Complaint of the lilack Knight) is also in 
 this stanza. 
 
 The following is a stanza from the ' Monk's Tale," 
 according to the Ellesmere text : 
 
 All.us, fortunt;! ^lic thai wliylom \v;us 
 Drcdful to kiii^^cs and to i-mpcrourcs, 
 
 Now ^aurelh ' al tlio prplc on hir, alla.s! 
 
 And she that helmed was in starke stoures,* 
 
 ' Gaurcth : gautk. • Starke stuurcs : tn'tre ronttsts.
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. q^ 
 
 And wan by force tounes stronge and toures, 
 Shal on hir heed now were a vitremyte ; ^ 
 
 And she that bar the ceptre ful of floures 
 Shal bere a distaf, hir cost for to quyte.'- 
 
 By this rhyme-scheme, the couplet, instead of 
 being at the end, is brought in the middle, where 
 it serves to bind together the two quatrains. That 
 is, in fact, what the eight verses are, namely, two 
 quatrians, with the last line of the first and the first 
 line of the second rhyming together. To these 
 the poet added as a supplementary harmony, and 
 in order to impart a fine sweeping close to his 
 stanza, the alexandrine, making it rhyme with the 
 second and fourth verses of the second quatrain. 
 
 James Russell Lowell, in his ' Essay on Spenser,' 
 happily remarks, ' In the alexandrine, the melody 
 of one stanza seems forever longing and feeling for- 
 ward after that which is to follow. There is no 
 ebb and flow in his metre more than on the shores 
 of the Adriatic, but wave follows wave with equable 
 gainings and recessions, the one sliding back in 
 fluent music to be mingled with and carried for- 
 ward by the next. In all this there is soothingness, 
 indeed, but no slumberous monotony ; for Spenser 
 was no mere metrist, but a great composer. By 
 the variety of his pauses — now at the close of the 
 first or second foot, now of the third, and again of 
 the fourth — he gives spirit and energy to a meas- 
 
 ^ Vitremyte : ' I suppose it to be a coined word, formed on the 
 Latin vitream mitram, expressing, literally, a glass head-dress, in com- 
 plete contrast to a strong helmet.' — Ski-:at. 
 
 "^ Ilir cost for to quyte: to pay for her expenses.
 
 94 
 
 THE SPEXSERIAN STAXZA. 
 
 lire whose tendency it certainly is to become lan- 
 guorous. He knew how to make it rapid and 
 passionate at need, ..." 
 
 The following exposition of the rhyme-scheme 
 addresses to the eye the evolution of the rhyme- 
 emphasis, which culminates in the alexandrine : 
 
 I a 
 
 2 b 
 
 3 <t 
 
 4 b 
 
 5 b 
 
 6 c 
 
 7 f> 
 
 8 c 
 
 9 ^ 
 
 The rhyme which falls on the seventh verse is a 
 third rhyme, with a resultant accumulated rhyme- 
 emphasis; and the rhyme which falls on the alexan- 
 drine is a second rhyme, but the rhyme-emphasis is 
 increased by reason of its being an adjacent rhyme. 
 The alexandrine receives additional emphasis from 
 its exceptional length. The jjoet, also, frequently, 
 perhaps generally, imparts to it a special vowel and 
 consonant melody, cmjiloys it for expressing what- 
 ever is lengthened out, or is of a continuous char- 
 acter, and renders it in various ways exceptionally 
 vigorous. 
 
 The alexandrine of the following stanza affords a 
 good illustration of this. (The poet comjxires the 
 vile brood which issued from the maw of the mon.ster 
 Error, after the Red Cross Knight had .slain her in 
 her den, and which beset him on every side, to gnats 
 molesting a shepherd, in the evening, while watching 
 his tiock.)
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 95 
 
 As gentle shepheard in sweete eventide, 
 
 When ruddy Phebus gins to welke in west, 
 High on an hill, his flock to vewen wide, 
 
 Markes which doe byte their hasty supper best ; 
 
 A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him molest, 
 All striving to infixe their feeble stinges. 
 
 That from their noyance he no where can rest ; 
 
 But with his clownish hands their tender wings 
 
 He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings. 
 
 — I.I. 23. 
 
 To the regular enforcements received by the alex- 
 andrine from rhyme and extra length, are added 
 those of alliteration and the most suggestive melody. 
 First, there is the effect of the repetition of * oft,' and 
 the reversed order of the two verbs with the qualify- 
 ing adverb (brusheth oft, and oft doth mar) ; then the 
 transition from the vowel in * mar,' through the vowel 
 in * their ' (= e + u), to the two li's in ' murmurings,' 
 which effect is heightened by the reduplication of the 
 syllable ' mur ' : 
 
 He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings. 
 
 The climacteric vowel is the broad a in ' mar,' 
 which suggests the dash of the ' clownish hands,' 
 into the ' cloud of cumbrous gnattes ' ; and the 
 muffled cadence of the verse suggests their retreat. 
 The entire stanza is a wonder of melody and har- 
 mony, culminating in the alexandrine. 
 
 Take it, for all in all, it is, perhaps, the most per- 
 fect stanza in the ' Faerie Oueene.' 
 
 The following are good examples of alexandrines 
 to which special enforcements have been imparted. 
 The entire stanza to which each belongs should be 
 read, in order to appreciate its full effect.
 
 96 
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 — I. 5- a8. 
 
 A streame of cole-black blood forth gush6d from her corse. 
 Whose bridle ninij with golden bels and bosses brave. 
 
 — I. a. 13. 
 
 adowne his courser's side 
 The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride. 
 
 — I. a. 14. 
 
 the Hashing fier Hies, 
 As from a forge, out of their burning shields ; 
 And streames of purple bloud new die tiie verdant fields. 
 
 — I. a. 17. 
 
 He pluct a bough ; out of whose rift there came 
 
 Smal drops of gory bloud, that trickled down the same. 
 
 — 1. a. 30. 
 
 Wiiom all the people followe with great glee. 
 
 Shouting, and clapi)ing all their hands on hight. 
 
 That all the ayre it fills, and flies to heaven bright. 
 
 — 1.5. 16. 
 
 their bridles they would champ, 
 And trampling the fine element would fiercely ramp. 
 
 High over hills and lowe adowne tiie dale. 
 
 She wandred many a wood, and measured many a vale. 
 
 — 1.7. a8. 
 
 Athwart his brest a bauldrick brave he wore. 
 
 That shind, like twinkling stars, with stones most pretious rare. 
 
 — I. 7. 39. 
 
 Large streames of blood out of tiie truncked slock 
 
 Forth gushed, like fresh water streame from riven rocke, 
 
 — I. 8. 10. 
 
 The neighbor woods arownd with hollow nuuniur ring. 
 
 — I. 8. II. 
 
 Who, all enraged with smart and frantick yrc, 
 
 Came hurtling in full Hers, and forst the knight retire. 
 
 — I. 8. 17. 
 
 Doth roll adowne the rocks and fall with fearefull drift. 
 
 — 1.8. 77. 
 
 They let her goc at will, and wander waics unknowne. 
 
 — I. 8. 4y. 
 
 And all al)out it wandring ghostes did wayle and howle. 
 
 — I. 9. 33- 
 With in( I ) note her lowd salutes the mounting larkc. 
 
 — I. II. 51. 
 
 So downe he fell, and like an heaped mountaine lay. 
 
 — I. II. 54-
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 97 
 
 As fayre Diana in fresii somers day 
 
 Beholdes her nymphes enraunged in shady wood, 
 
 Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in christall flood, 
 
 — I. 12. 7. 
 
 At last they heard a home that shrilled cleare 
 
 Throughout the wood that ecchoed againe, 
 
 And made the forrest ring, as it would rive in twaine. 
 
 2. 3. 20. 
 
 The mortall Steele despiteously entayld 
 
 Deepe in their flesh, quite through the yron walles. 
 
 That a large purple streame adowne their giambeux ^ falles. 
 
 — 2. 6. 29. 
 
 That is the river of Cocytus deepe. 
 
 In which full many soules do endlesse wayle and weepe. 
 
 — 2. 7. 56. 
 
 That all the fields resounded with the ruefuU cry. 
 
 -2.8.3. 
 He built by art upon the glassy See 
 
 A bridge of bras, whose sound hevens thunder seemed to bee. 
 
 — 2. 10. 73. 
 
 They reard a most outrageous dreadfuU yelling cry, 
 
 — 2. II. 17. 
 
 Like a great water flood, that tombling low 
 From the high mountaines, threates to overflow 
 With sudden fury all the fertile playne. 
 And the sad husbandman's long hope doth throw 
 Adowne the streame, and all his vowes make vayne ; 
 
 Nor bounds nor banks his headlong mine may sustayne, 
 
 — 2. II. 18. 
 
 the Boteman strayt 
 Held on his course with stayed stedfastnesse, 
 Ne ever shroncke, ne ever sought to bayt 
 His tyrfed armes for toylesome wearinesse. 
 But with his oares did sweepe the watry wildernesse. 
 
 Till, sadly soucing on the sandy shore, 
 
 He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in his gore. 
 
   2. 12. 29. 
 
 — 3. 4. 16. 
 
 And in the midst a little river plaide 
 
 Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd to plaine 
 
 With gentle murmure that his cours they did restraine. 
 
 — 3- 5- 39- 
 
 * Leggings, greaves.
 
 98 
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 Ne ever rests he in tranquillity, 
 
 The roring billowes beat his bowre so boystrously. 
 
 Like ' a discoloured snake, whose hidden snares 
 
 Through the greene gras his long bright burnisht back declares, 
 
 — 3. II. 28. 
 his shield, 
 
 Which bore the Sunne brode blaztjd in a golden field, 
 
 — 5- 3- »4- 
 
 Sometimes, but rarely, and chiefly in the later 
 books, the poet uses double rhymes in the sixth, 
 eighth, and ninth verses, and the rhyme-emphasis 
 falling on the alexandrine is, in consequence, very 
 much increased, as in the following examples : 
 
 So downe the clifFe the wretched Gyant tumbled ; 
 
 His battred ballances in pecces lay. 
 
 His timbred bones all broken rudely rumbled : 
 
 So was the high-aspyring with huge ruine humbled. 
 
 — J. a. 50. 
 
 There Marincll great deeds of armes did shew. 
 
 And through the thickest like a Lyon flew. 
 
 Rashing off iiclmcs, and ryving plates asonder. 
 
 That every one his daunger did eschew : 
 
 So terribly his dreadfull strokes did thonder. 
 
 That all men stood amazed and at his might did wonder. 
 
 - 5- 3- 8 
 
 In the following it is still stronger, by reason of 
 the broader vowel in the rhyming words : 
 
 Full many deeds of amies that day were donne. 
 
 And many knights unhorst, and many wounded, 
 
 As fortune fell ; yet little lost or wonne ; 
 
 But all that day the greatest prayse redounded 
 
 To Marinell, whose name the Heralds loud resounded. 
 
 -5.3.6. 
 
 Such rhyme-emphasis, such a ' vol<5e de resonnance,' 
 is too stunning, and could not be borne very long. 
 
 ' I'M. 1596; Like to a (cd. 1590).
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. gg 
 
 See, also, 5- 3- 9 ; 5- 4- lo ; 5- 4- 1 5 ; 5- 5- 37 ; 5- > 
 40 ; 5. 6. 14 ; 5. 7. 29 ; 5. 7. 32 ; 5. 7. 42 ; 5. 8. 7 ; 5. 
 9. 9; 5. 9. 10; 5. 9. 24; 5. 10. 7; 5. II. 50. 
 
 Attention should be called to another point in the 
 passage quoted from Warton. He says : ' Spenser, 
 in choosing this stanza, did not sufficiently consider 
 the genius of the English language, which does not 
 easily fall into a frequent repetition of the same ter- 
 mination ; a circumstance natural to the Italian, which 
 deals largely in identical cadences.' To this objection 
 it may be replied, in the words of Beattie, that the 
 English language, ' from its irregularity of inflection, 
 and number of monosyllables, abounds in diversified 
 terminations, and consequently renders our poetry 
 susceptible of an endless variety of legitimate rhymes.' 
 In Italian poetry, the great majority of the rhymes 
 are female rhymes, that is, rhymes in which two 
 syllables, an accented and an unaccented one, corre- 
 spond at the end of each line. The unaccented 
 syllable will sometimes be all through the stanza, 
 sometimes a, sometimes e, sometimes /. The conse- 
 quence is, that the ear, the English ear, at any rate, 
 is terribly pestered by a constant recurrence of the 
 same sound. For example, here are the rhymes of 
 the first five stanzas of the first canto of the ' Orlando 
 Furioso ' of Ariosto : 
 
 amori, mori, furori ; canto, tanto, vanto ; Trojano, 
 Romano. 
 
 tratto, matto, fatto ; rima, prima, lima ; concesso, 
 promesso. 
 
 prole, vuole, parole ; nostro, vostro, inchiostro ; 
 sono, dono.
 
 lOO THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 evoi, voi, suoi; apparccchio, vccchio, orccchio; 
 poco, loco. 
 
 innamorato, lasciato, tomato; lei, trofci, Pircnei; 
 Lamagna, campagna. 
 
 Christopher North takes Warton up on the opinion 
 quoted, in his characteristic way : ' A language,' he 
 says, ' like the Italian, so open that you cannot speak 
 it without rhyming, is the very worst of all — for 
 rhymes should not come till they are sought — if 
 they do, they give no pleasurable touch — " no gentle 
 shock of mild surprise" — but, like intrusive fools, 
 keep jingling their caps and bells in your ears, if not 
 to your indifference, to your great disgust -:- and you 
 wish they were all dead. Not so with the fine, bold, 
 stern, muscular, masculine, firm-knit, and heroic lan- 
 guage of England. Let no poet dare to comjilain of 
 the poverty of its words, in what Warton calls " iden- 
 tical cadences." The music of their endings is mag- 
 nificent, and it is infmite. And we conclude with 
 flinging in the teeth of the sciolist, who is j^rating 
 perhaps of the superiority of the German, a copy, 
 bound in calf-.skin, of Walker's Rhyming Dictionary, 
 for the shade of S])cn.ser might frown while it smiled, 
 were we to knock the blockhead down with our vel- 
 lum volume of the " I'^aerie Queene." ' 
 
 The Pictorial Adapteoness of the Spenserian 
 
 Stanza. 
 
 From the strong individuality of the stanza, due to 
 its compact and well-braced structure, and its fine, 
 sweeping close, wc might decide, a priori, as lo its
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. loi 
 
 signal adaptcdness to elaborate pictorial effect ; and 
 this adaptedness the reader of the ' Faerie Queene ' 
 soon comes to feel. 
 
 . A great gallery of pictures, running through a 
 wide gamut of coloring and tone, many of them pos- 
 sessing a satisfying unity within the limits of a single 
 stanza, might be collected from the ' Faerie Queene.' 
 
 In ' Observations, Anecdotes, and Characters, of 
 Books and Men : by the Rev. Joseph Spence,' Pope 
 is represented as saying : * After my reading a Canto 
 of Spenser two or three days ago to an old lady 
 between seventy and eighty, she said that I had been 
 showing her a collection of pictures. She said very 
 right ; and I know not how it is, but there is some- 
 thing in Spenser that pleases one as strongly in one's 
 old age as it did in one's youth. I read the " Faerie 
 Queene " when I was about twelve, with a vast deal 
 of delight ; and I think it gave me as much when I 
 read it over about a year or two ago.' (Ed. of 1820, 
 pp. 86, %•]) 
 
 'The true use of him is as a gallery of pictures 
 which we visit as the mood takes us, and where we 
 spend an hour or two at a time, long enough to 
 sweeten our perceptions, not so long as to cloy them. 
 ... as at Venice you swim in a gondola from Gian 
 Bellini to Titian, and from Titian to Tintoret, so in 
 him, where other cheer is wanting, the gentle sway 
 of his measure, like the rhythmical impulse of the 
 oar, floats you- lullingly along from picture to pic- 
 ture.' — James Russell Lowell. 
 
 A fine illustration of pictorial effect, to which the 
 structure of the stanza contributes, is the description
 
 I02 ^^^E. SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 of Prince Arthur, ' in comijlete steel,' in whom the 
 poet meant should be embodied all the several virtues 
 represented by the several knights. ' In the person 
 of Prince Arthur,' he says, in his letter to Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, 'I set forth magnificence in particular; 
 which virtue, for that ... it is the perfection of all 
 the rest, and containeth in it them all, therefore in the 
 whole course I mention the deeds of Arthur applyable 
 to thai virtue which I write of in that book.' 
 
 The forsaken and disconsolate Una wanders m^ny 
 a wood, and measures many a vale, in search of her 
 long-lost knight, from whom she has been separated 
 by the wiles of Archimago. 
 
 At Ia.st she chaunced, by good hap, to meet 
 A goodly kniglit, fairc marching by the way. 
 Together with liis Stiuyre, arrayed meet : 
 Hi.s glitterand armour shined far away, 
 Like glauncing light of Phoebus brightest ray; 
 From to]) to toe no place appeared bare. 
 That deadly dint of .steel endanger may. 
 Athwart his brea.st a bauldrick brave he ware. 
 That shind, like twinkling stars, with stones most 
 pretious rare. 
 
 The alexandrine glistens like the baldrick it de- 
 scribes. 
 
 And in the midst thereof one pretious stone 
 Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous mights. 
 Shajjt like a Ladies head, e.xceeding shone. 
 Like Hesperus emongst the le.sscr lights. 
 And strove for to ama/c the weaker sights : 
 Thereby his mortal blade full comely hong 
 In yvory sheath, ycar\''d with curious slights, 
 Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and handle strong 
 Of mollier perle ; and buckled with a gulden tong.
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 103 
 
 His haughtie Helmet, horrid all with gold, 
 Both glorious brightness and great terror bredd : 
 For all the crest a Dragon did enfold 
 With greedie pawes, and over all did spredd 
 His golden winges : his dreadful! hideous hedd, 
 Close couched on the bever, seemed to throw 
 From flaming mouth bright sparckles fiery redd. 
 That suddeine horrour to faint hearts did show ; 
 And scaly tayle was strctcht adowne his l^ack full low. 
 
 Upon the top of all his lofty crest, 
 
 A bounch of heares discolourd diversely. 
 
 With sprincled pearle and gold full richly drest, 
 
 Did shake, and seemd to daunce for jollity, 
 
 Like to an almond tree ymounted hie 
 
 On top of greene Selinis all alone. 
 
 With blossoms brave bedecked daintily ; 
 
 Whose tender locks do tremble every one 
 
 At everie little breath that under heaven is blowne. 
 
 — 1. 7. 29-32. 
 
 A rhythmical zephyr creeps through the last two 
 verses. 
 
 Here is a pretty little picture of a hermitage and a 
 chapel, in a dale, on the skirts of a forest, that may 
 be hung under the larger picture of Prince Arthur. 
 It is a picture of which all the elements mingle in 
 one sweet impression : 
 
 A little lowly Hermitage it was, 
 
 Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side. 
 
 Far from resort of people that did paS 
 
 In traveill to and fro : a little wyde 
 
 There was an holy chappcll edifyde, 
 
 Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say 
 
 His holy thinges each morne and eventyde : 
 
 Thereby a christall streame did gently play. 
 
 Which from a sacred fountaine wellCid fortli alway. 
 
 — I. I. 3^.
 
 I04 
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 Observe how the ' crystal stream ' flows through 
 the alexandrine. And the alliterations, unobtrusive 
 as they are, contribute not a little to the melodious 
 and harmonious blending of the features of the pic- 
 ture : ' /itt/e /ow/y,' ' ^/own in a ^-/ale,' 'f^.xfxovc\ resort 
 of people,' ' /ravel /o,' ' cryj/al jA^eam ' ; in the last 
 verse there is an effective alternate alliteration of / 
 and zi\ 'fountain it'clledybrth ahi'ay.' 
 
 Leigh Hunt, in his ' Imagination and Fancy,' 
 presents ' A Gallery of Pictures from Sjienser,' to 
 each of which he has attached its character, and the 
 name of the painter of whose genius it reminded him. 
 
 For these pictures, the student must turn to the 
 'Faerie Queene.' As given by Hunt, their subjects, 
 characters, and the painters they suggest are : 
 
 Charissa ; or. Charity. Character, Spiritual Love; 
 painter, Raphael, (i. lo. 30, 31.) 
 
 Hope. Character, Sweetness, without Devoted- 
 ness ; painter, Correggio. (3. 12. 13.) 
 
 Marriage Procession of the Thames and Mcd- 
 way. Character, Genial Strength, Grace, and Lux- 
 ury; painter, Raphael. (4. 11. 11, 12.) Arion. 
 (4. II. 23.) 
 
 Sir Guyon binding Furor. Character, Super- 
 human P2nergy and Rage; jiainter, Michael Angelo. 
 (2. 4. 14, 15.) 
 
 Una (or Faith in Distress). Character, Loving 
 and Sorrowful Purity glorified. (May I say, that 
 I think it would take Raphael and Correggio united 
 to paint this, on account of the excpiisite chinro-scurof 
 Or might not the painter of the Magdalen have it 
 all to himself i*) (1.3. l-y.)
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. IO5 
 
 Night and the Witch Duessa, taking Sansjoy in 
 their chariot to ^sculapius to be restored to life. 
 Character, Dreariness of Scene; Horridness of As- 
 pect and Wicked Beauty, side by side; painter, 
 Julio Romano, (i. 5. 28-32.) 
 
 Venus in search of Cupid, coming to Diana. 
 Character, Contrast of Impassioned and Unimpas- 
 sioned Beauty — cold and warm colors mixed ; painter, 
 Titian. (3. 6. 17-19.) 
 
 May. Character, Budding Beauty in male and 
 female ; Animal Passion ; Luminous vernal color- 
 ing ; painter, Titian. (7. 7. 34.) 
 
 An Angel, with a Pilgrim and a fainting Knight. 
 Character, Active Superhuman Beauty, with the 
 finest coloring and contrast ; painter, Titian. (2. 8. 
 
 3-5-) 
 
 Aurora and Tithonus. Character, Young and 
 
 Genial Beauty, contrasted with Age, — the acces- 
 sories full of the mixed warmth and chillness of 
 morning; painter, Guido. (i. 11. 51.) 
 
 The Cave of Despair. Character, Savage and For- 
 lorn Scenery, occupied by Squalid Misery ; painter, 
 Salvator Rosa. (i. 9. 33-36.) 
 
 A Knight in bright armor looking into a Cave. 
 Character, A deep effect of chiaroscuro, making 
 deformity visible ; painter, Rembrandt, (i. i. 14.) 
 
 Malbecco sees Hellcnore dancing with the Satyrs. 
 Character, Luxurious Abandonment to Mirth ; painter, 
 Nicholas Poussin. (3. 10. 44, 45.) 
 
 Landscape, with Damsels conveying a wounded 
 Squire on his Horse. Character, Select Southern 
 Elegance, with an intimation of fine architecture ;
 
 I06 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 painter, Claude. (Yet ' mighty ' woods hardly be- 
 long to him.) (3. 5. 39, 40.) 
 
 The Nymphs and Graces dancing to a shepherd's 
 pipe ; or, Apotheosis of a Poet's Mistress. Charac- 
 ter, Nakedness without Impudency ; Multitudinous 
 and Innocent Delight; K.xaltation of the principal 
 person from circumstances, rather than her own 
 ideality; painter, Albano. (6. 10. 10-12, 15, 16.) 
 
 Whoever reads these selections, however little 
 susceptibility he may have to organic literary form, 
 can hardly fail to be sensible, to some extent, of 
 the adaptedness of the stanza to the pictorial effect. 
 Certainly no other structure of stanza would con- 
 tribute so much to this effect. And the roominess 
 of the stanza allows of a detailed working-up of a 
 picture. To tune the sensibilities to the subtlest 
 elements of poetic form, one need not go outside of 
 the wide domain of the 'Faerie Queene.' 
 
 In the Preface to his ' Fables, Ancient and Mod- 
 ern, tran.slated into Verse from Homer, Ovid, Hoccac- 
 cio, and Chaucer,' John Dryden says, 'We must 
 be children before we grow men. There was an Fn- 
 nius, and in process of time a Lucilius, and a Lucre- 
 tius, before Virgil and Horace: even after Chaucer 
 there was a Spenser, a Harrington, a Fairfa.x, before 
 Waller and Denham were in being : and our fiinn- 
 bcrs were in their nonas;e till these last af^peared.' ! 
 And in his Dedication of 'The Rival Ladies' to 
 Lord Orrery, he says : ' Hut the e.xcellence and dig- 
 nity of rhyme 7vere never fully known till Mr. Waller 
 taui^ht it ; he first made writing easily an art, first 
 showed us to conclude the sense, most commonly
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 107 
 
 in distichs, which in the verse of those before him 
 runs on for so many lines together, that the reader 
 is out of breath to overtake it. This sweetness 
 of Mr. Waller's lyric poesy was afterwards followed 
 in the epic by Sir John Denham in his ' Cooper's 
 Hill,' a poem which, for the majesty of the style, is 
 and ever zvill be the exact standard of good writing.'! 
 Verily, John Dryden perpetrated more rhetorical 
 nonsense than any other literary critic that ever 
 lived. ^ 
 
 1 ' It was a firm belief of the writers of the period [of the Restora- 
 tion] that then for the first time was the art of correct English versi- 
 fication exemplified and appreciated. It was, we say, a firm belief of 
 the time, and indeed it has been a common-place of criticism ever 
 since, that Edmund Waller was the first poet who wrote smooth and 
 accurate verse, that in this he was followed by Sir John Denham, and 
 that these two men were reformers of English metre. " Well-placing 
 of words, for the sweetness of pronunciation, was not known till Mr. 
 Waller introduced it," is a deliberate statement of Dryden himself, 
 meant to apply especially to verse. Here, again, we have to sepa- 
 rate a matter of fact from a matter of doctrine. To aver, with such 
 specimens of older English verse before us as the works of Chaucer 
 and Spenser, and the minor poems of Milton, that it was Waller or 
 any other petty writer of the Restoration that first taught us sweetness, 
 or smoothness, or even correctness of verse, is so ridiculous that the 
 currency of such a notion can only be accounted for by the servility 
 with which small critics go on repeating whatever any one big critic has 
 said. That Waller and Denham, however, did set the example of 
 something new in the manner of English versification, — which " some- 
 thing " Dryden, Pope, and other poets who afterwards adopted it, 
 regarded as an improvement, — needs not be doubted. For us it is 
 sufficient in the meantime to recognise the change as an attempt after 
 greater neatness of mechanical structure, leaving open the question 
 whether it was a change for the better.' — Dryden, and the Literature of 
 the Restoration, by Daviu M.\sson.
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA AS EMPLOYED BY 
 SUBSEQUENT POETS. 
 
 TIIIC many groat Knglish poets who have em- 
 ployed the Spenserian stanza bear witness to 
 the estimation in which it has been held. But in no 
 other poet do we find the peculiar musig which an 
 educated car enjoys everywhere in Spenser. * The 
 harmonies interwoven through the whole stanza, and 
 each line elaborated with reference to the whole, the 
 meaning and the music being incomplete, both sus- 
 pended, as it were, till revealed by the expected 
 close, that very expectation being among the ele- 
 ments of the poet's power.' 
 
 Thomson employs the stanza in his 'Castle of Indo- 
 lence ' ; Shenstone, in his 'Schoolmistress'; lieattie, 
 in his 'Minslrol'; Hums, in his 'Cotter's Saturday 
 Night'; Campbell, in his 'Gertrude of Wyoming'; Sir 
 Walter Scott, in his ' Don Roderick ' ; Wordsworth, 
 in his 'Female Vagrant' ('Guilt and Sorrow') and 
 ' Stanzas written in my pocket-copy of Thom.son's 
 "Castle of Indolence'"; Shelley, in his 'Revolt of 
 Islam ' and his ' Adonais ' ; Keats, in his ' Kve of St. 
 Agnes' ; Croly, in his ' Angel of the World,' and his 
 'Paris, in 1815'; Lord Hyron, in his 'Childe Harold'; 
 Tennyson, in the opening of his ' Lotos- Eaters,' etc. 
 108
 
 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. lOQ 
 
 Space will not allow adequate examples to be 
 given from all these poets; but the student of 
 verse who is interested in noting the varied tones 
 which the same instrument may have under the 
 hands of different performers, due, in part, to the 
 different song which was in each when he wrote, 
 should read (aloud, of course) the first book, at 
 least, of the * Faerie Queehe,' and then the above- 
 mentioned poems. "^ 
 
 An indispensable condition of the appreciation of 
 poetic forms is a well-cultivated voice. Without a 
 proper vocal rendering, no poetry, worth reading, can 
 be duly appreciated. The articulating thought may 
 be got through silent reading; but the indefinite, 
 informing spirit can be reached, if reached at all, 
 only through a proper vocal rendition of the verse. 
 
 Thomson's ^Castle of Indolence' 
 
 Thomson, in his 'Castle of Indolence,' has, perhaps, 
 most successfully reproduced Spenser's softness and 
 dreaminess of tone. The following stanzas afford 
 good illustrations : 
 
 2. 
 
 In lowly dale, fast by a river's side. 
 
 With woody hill o'er hill encompassed round. 
 
 A most enchanting wizard did abide, 
 
 Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found. 
 
 It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground : 
 
 And there a season atween June and May. 
 
 Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrowned, 
 
 A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, 
 
 No living wight could work, ne car^d even for play.
 
 no THE SPENSERIAX STAXZA 
 
 3- 
 
 Was nought around but images of rest : 
 Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between : 
 And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest. 
 From poppies breatiied ; and beds of pleasant green, 
 Where never yet was creeping creature seen. 
 Meantime, unnumbered glittering streamlets played, 
 And hurled every where their waters sheen ; 
 That, as they bickered through the sunny glade. 
 Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. 
 
 4- 
 Joined to the prattle of the purling rills 
 Were heard the lowing herds along the vale. 
 And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, 
 And vacant shepherds pilling in the dale; 
 And, now and then, sweet Thiloniel would wail, 
 Or stock doves plain amid the forest deep. 
 That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; 
 And still a coil the grasshopper did keei) ; 
 Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep. 
 
 5- 
 Full, in the passage of the vale, above, 
 A salile, silent, solemn forest stood. 
 Where nought but shadowy forms was seen to move. 
 As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood ; 
 And u]) the hills, on either side, a wood 
 Of blackening j^ines, aye waving to and fro. 
 Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood ; 
 And where this valley winded out, below. 
 The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to tlow. 
 
 6. 
 
 A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was. 
 Of dreams that wave before the l>.df-shut eye ; 
 And of gay castles in the clouds that pass. 
 For ever flushing round a summer-sky : 
 There eke the soft delights, that witchingly
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. Ill 
 
 Instil a wanton sweetness throu<;h the breast; 
 And the cahn pleasures always hovered nigh ; 
 But whatever smacked of noyance, or unrest. 
 Was far, far off exoelled from this delicious nest. 
 
 Shellefs ' Laon and Cythna.^ 
 
 In the Preface to ' Laon and Cythna,' better known 
 as 'The Revolt of Islam,' Shelley says: 'I have 
 adopted the stanza of Spenser (a measure inex- 
 pressibly beautiful), not because I consider it a finer 
 model of poetical harmony than the blank verse of 
 Shakespeare and Milton, but because in the latter 
 there is no shelter for mediocrity : you must either 
 succeed or fail. This perhaps an aspiring spirit should 
 desire. But I was enticed, also, by the brilliancy and 
 magnificence of sound wJiicJi a mind that has been 
 nourished upon musical tho?ights, can produce by a just 
 and harmonious arrangement of the pauses of this 
 measure.' 
 
 'The Revolt of Islam' is more genuinely and 
 intensely lyrical in its character than is any other 
 poem in which the stanza is used. The poem is 
 the expression of a lofty, aspiring, but feverish 
 and much-bewildered spirit, who, at times, brings 
 out of the instrument employed all its capabili- 
 ties of 'brilliancy and magnificence of sound.' But 
 the reader of ' The Revolt of Islam ' cannot but 
 feel that the instrument was constructed for the 
 expression of other states and attitudes of mind 
 and feeling than are generally exhibited in this 
 poem.
 
 I I 2 THE SPENSERIAy ST.IXZA 
 
 John Todhuntcr, in ' A Study of Shelley,' remarks : 
 ' In choosing the Spenserian stanza for his great 
 visionary poem, Shelley challenges comparison with 
 Spenser himself, and with Byron ; and it cannot be 
 said that he appears to advantage in this comparison. 
 . . . Compare the impetuous rapidity and pale 
 intensity of Shelley's verse with the lulling harmony, 
 the lingering cadence, the voluj^tuous color of 
 Spenser's, or with the grandiose majesty of Byron's. 
 The stanzas of the " Faerie Oueene " have some- 
 thing of the wholesome old-world mellowness of 
 Haydn's music ; those of " Laon and Cythna " 
 something of the morbid fever of Chopin's; . . . 
 In " Adonais," indeed, a poem on which he be- 
 stowed much labor, he handles the stanza in a 
 masterly manner, and endows it with an individual 
 music beautiful and new; and even "Laon and 
 Cythna" is full of exquisite passages, in which the 
 very rhymes lend wings to his imagination, and 
 become the occasion of sweet out-of-the-way modes 
 of expression, full of ethereal poetry of the most 
 Shelleyan kind.' 
 
 The first fifteen .stanzas of Canto I afford good 
 examples of Shelley's use of the stanza in ' The Revolt 
 of Islam.' The |)ause-melody constitutes an imjiortant 
 element of the general aesthetic im|)ressi()n ; and the 
 frequent extra end-syllables, resulting in female rhymes, 
 are skilfully employed, and often with fine musical 
 effect. 
 
 The poet, from ' the peak of an aerial j)romontory,' 
 bcholfls. in the air. ' an Kagle and a Serpent wreathed 
 in fight ' ;
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. I 1 3 
 
 When the last hope of trampled France had failed 
 Like a brief dream of unremaining glory, 
 From visions of despair I rose, and scaled 
 The peak of an aerial promontory, 
 Whose caverned base with the vext surge was hoary ; 
 And saw the golden dawn break fortli, and waken 
 Each cloud, and every wave : — l^ut transitory 
 The calm : for sudden, the firm earth was shaken, 
 As if by the last wreck its frame were overtaken. 
 
 So as I stood, ^ one blast of muttering thunder 
 
 Burst in far peals along the waveless deep. 
 
 When, gathering fast, around, above and under, 
 
 Long trains of tremulous mist began to creep. 
 
 Until their complicating lines did steep 
 
 The orient sun in shadow : — not a sound 
 
 Was heard ; one horrible repose did keep 
 
 The forests and the floods, and all around 
 
 Darkness more dread than night was poured upon tlie ground. 
 
 Hark ! 'tis the rushing of a wind that sweeps 
 
 Earth and the ocean. See ! the lightnings yawn 
 
 Deluging Heaven with fire, and the lashed deeps 
 
 (flitter and boil beneath : it rages on. 
 
 One mighty stream, whirlwind and waves upthrown. 
 
 Lightning, and liail, and darkness eddying by. 
 
 Tiiere is a pause — the sea-birds, that were gone 
 
 Into their caves to shriek, come forth, to spy 
 
 What calm has fallen on eartli, what light is in the sky. 
 
 For, where tlie irresistible storm had cloven 
 That fearful darkness, the blue sky was seen 
 Fretted with many a fair cloud interwoven 
 Most delicately, and the ocean green, 
 Berkeath that opening spot of blue serene. 
 Quivered like burning emerald : calm was spread 
 On all below ; but far on high, between 
 Earth and the upper air, the va.st clouds fled. 
 Countless and swift as leaves on autumn's tempest shed. 
 
 1 As 1 Stuud thus. — FuK.MAN.
 
 I 14 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 For ever, as the war became more fierce 
 
 Between the whirlwinds and tlie wrack on high 
 
 That spot grew more serene ; bhie light did pierce 
 
 The woof of those white clouds, which seemed to lie 
 
 Far, deep, and motionless ; while tliro" the sky 
 
 The pallid semicircle of the moon 
 
 Past on, in slow and moving majesty ; 
 
 Its upper horn arrayed in mists, which soon 
 
 Hut slowly Hed, like dew beneath the beams of noon. 
 
 I could not choose but gaze ; a fascination 
 
 Dwelt in that moon, and sky, and clouds, which drew 
 
 My fancy thither, and in expectation 
 
 Of what I knew not, I remained : — the hue 
 
 Of the white moon, amid that heaven so blue. 
 
 Suddenly stained with shadow did appear; 
 
 A speck, a cloud, a shape, approaching grew, 
 
 Like a great ship in the sun's sinking sphere 
 
 Beheld afar at sea, and swift it came anear. 
 
 Even like a bark, which from a chasm of mountains. 
 
 Dark, vast, and overhanging, on a river 
 
 Which there collects the strength of all its fountains. 
 
 Comes forth, whilst with the speed its frame doth quiver, 
 
 Sails, oars, and stream, tending to one endeavour ; 
 
 .So, from that chasm of light a wingt-il P'orm 
 
 On all the winds of heaven approaching ever 
 
 Floated, dilating as it came : the storm 
 
 Pursued it with fierce blasts, and lightnings swift and warm. 
 
 A course precipitous, of dizzy .si)eed, 
 
 .Suspending thought and breath ; a monstrous sight! 
 
 For in the air do I behold indeed 
 
 An Kagle and a .Serjient wreathed in figlit : — 
 
 And now relaxing its impetuous flight. 
 
 Before the aerial rock on which I stood. 
 
 The K.igle, hovering, wheeled to left and right, 
 
 Ancl hung with lingering wings over tlic flood, 
 
 And startled with its veils tlie wide air's solitude.
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 11$ 
 
 A shaft of light upon its wings descended, 
 And every golden feather gleamed therein — 
 Feather and scale inextricably blended. ^ 
 The Serpent's mailed and many-coloured skin 
 Shone thro' the plumes its coils were twined within 
 By many a swollen and knotted fold, and high 
 And far, the neck receding lithe and thin, 
 Sustained a crested head, which warily 
 Shifted and glanced before the Eagle's steadfast eye. 
 
 Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheeling 
 
 With clang of wings and scream, the Eagle sailed 
 
 Incessantly — sometimes on high concealing 
 
 Its lessening orbs, sometimes as if it failed. 
 
 Drooped thro' the air, and still it shrieked and wailed, 
 
 And casting back its eager head, with beak 
 
 And talon unremittingly assailed 
 
 The wreathed Serpent, who did ever seek 
 
 Upon his enemy's heart a mortal wound to wreak. 
 
 What life, what power, was kindled and arose 
 
 Within the sphere of that appalling fray! 
 
 For, from the encounter of those w^ondrous foes, 
 
 A vapour, like the sea's suspended spray 
 
 Hung gathered : in the void air, far away, 
 
 Floated the shattered plumes ; bright scales did leap. 
 
 Where'er the Eagle's talons made their way. 
 
 Like sparks into the darkness ; — as they sweep. 
 
 Blood stains the snowy foam of the tumultuous deep. 
 
 1 I suspect the period at the end of this line and the pause at the 
 end of the preceding one should change places. I leave matters as 
 Shelley left them, because there may have been no oversight, the 
 present construction being possible; but it would be more clearly 
 sequent to read the passage thus : ' A shaft of light descended on the 
 eagle's wings, and every golden feather in them gleamed. Feather 
 and scale being blended inextricably, the serpent's mailed and many- 
 coloured skin shone through the plumes,' etc. — Forman.
 
 Il6 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 Swift chances in that combat — many a check, 
 And many a change, a dark and wild turnmil : 
 Sometimes the Snake around his enemy's neck 
 Locked in stiff rings his adamantine coil, 
 Until tlie Eagle, faint witii pain and toil. 
 Remitted his strong flight, and near the sea 
 Languidly fluttered, hopeless so to foil 
 His adversary, who then reared on high 
 His red and burning crest, radiant with victory. 
 
 Then on the white edge of tiic bursting surge. 
 
 Where they had sunk together, would the Snake 
 
 Relax his suffocating grasp, and scourge 
 
 The wind with his wild writhings ; for to break 
 
 That chain of torment, the vast bird would shake 
 
 The strength of his unconquerable wings 
 
 As in despair, and with his sinewy neck. 
 
 Dissolve in sudden shock those linked rings, 
 
 Then soar — as swift as smoke from a volcano springs. 
 
 Wile baffled wile, and .strength encountered strength. 
 
 Thus long, but unprevailing : — the event 
 
 Of that jwrtentous fight appeared at length : 
 
 Until the lamp of day was almost spent 
 
 It had endured, when lifeless,* stark, and rent. 
 
 Hung high that mighty Serpent, and at last 
 
 P'ell to the sea, while o'er the continent. 
 
 With clang of wings and .scream the Kagle i)ast. 
 
 Heavily borne away on the exhausted blast. 
 
 And with it fled the tempest, so that ocean 
 And earth and sky shone thro' the atmosphere — 
 Only, 'twas strange to see the red commotion 
 Of waves like mountains o'er the sinking s|)here 
 Of sun-set sweej), and their fierce roar to hear 
 Amid the calm : down the steep path I wound 
 To the sea-shore — the evening was most clear 
 And beautiful, and there the sea I found 
 Calm as a cradled child in dreamless slumber iiound. 
 
 ' I.iftless i.s cither an oversight or meant \n imply rxhnuitfii merely, 
 as wc learn further on that the snake was still alive. — l''oR.MAN,
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 11/ 
 
 English poetry affords no better illustrations of 
 the capabilities of the Spenserian stanza, mentioned 
 by Shelley, in the passage quoted above, than these 
 stanzas afford. 
 
 Shelley's '■ Adonais.' 
 
 After reading the first canto of ' The Revolt of 
 Islam,' which will be sufficient, in order to feel the 
 moulding spirit of the verse, the student should read 
 ' Adonais,' the elegiac tone of which he will feel to 
 be in very decided contrast to the tone of the former 
 poem. ' Adonais,' too, exhibits capabilities of the 
 Spenserian stanza not exhibited, to the same extent, 
 by any other poem written in this stanza. 
 
 Every reader, in passing from ' The Revolt of 
 Islam ' (great as are the peculiar merits of its verse) 
 to the ' Adonais,' must feel that the employment of 
 the Spenserian stanza, in the service of the lofty 
 elegiac tone of the latter, is far more successful than 
 its employment as an organ of the tumultuous spirit 
 of the former poem. The following stanzas afford a 
 sufficient evidence of this : 
 
 II. 
 
 Where wert thou mighty Mother, when he lay. 
 When thy Son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies 
 , In darkness? Where was lorn Urania 
 When Adonais died? witii veiltid eyes, 
 "Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise 
 She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath. 
 Rekindled all the fading melodies. 
 With which, like Howers that mock the corse beneath. 
 He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death.
 
 Il8 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 XIV. 
 
 All he had loved, and moulded into thought. 
 
 From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound, 
 
 Lamented Adonais. Morning sougiu 
 
 Her eastern watchtower. and her hair unbound. 
 
 Wet with the tears whitli should adorn the ground. 
 
 Dimmed the aerial eyes that kindle day ; 
 
 Afar the melancholy thunder moaned. 
 
 Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay. 
 
 And the wild winds flew around.' .sobbing in their dismay. 
 
 The alexandrine of this stanza has a special effec- 
 tiveness by reason of its two exceptional feet, the 
 third foot 'flew arotmd,' being an xxn, and the fourth, 
 'sobbing,' an ax. In reading the verse, the voice 
 should be well filled out on 'wild winds,' accelerated 
 on ' flew a-,' and brought down strongly on ' round ' ; 
 the exceptional ictus on ' sob- ' is effective. I'eter 
 Bayne quotes this stanza in his 'Tennyson and his 
 Teachers,' and remarks of it : 'If absolute perfection 
 could be asserted of any human thing, that stanza 
 might be called perfect ; utterly faultless, at once in 
 feeling, imagery, diction, and rhythm.' 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Ah, woe is mel Winter is come and gone. 
 
 But grief returns with the revolving year; 
 
 The airs and streams renew their joyous tone ; 
 
 The ants, the bees, the swallows, re-appear ; 
 
 Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead Seasons' bier; 
 
 The amorous birds now pair in every brake. 
 
 And build their mossy homes in field and brere ; 
 
 And the green lizard, and the golden snake. 
 
 Like unimpri.soned flames, out of their trance aw.ikc. 
 
 ' ' .Around,' accnrrlinf; to Mr*. Shelley's editions; l-'orman's edition 
 Hm • round,' wliith i» less effective.
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 1 19 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean 
 A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst, 
 As it has ever done, with change and motion, 
 From the great morning of the world when first 
 God dawned on Chaos ; in its stream immersed, 
 The lamps of Heaven flash with a softer light ; 
 All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst, 
 Diifuse themselves, and spend in love's delight 
 The beauty and the joy of their renewed might. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Midst others of less note, came one frail Form,i 
 
 A phantom among men ; companionless 
 
 As the last cloud of an expiring storm 
 
 Whose thunder is its knell ; he, as I guess. 
 
 Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, 
 
 ActcEon-like, and now he fled astray 
 
 With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness. 
 
 And his own thoughts along that nigged way. 
 
 Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 His head was bound with pansies overblown. 
 And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue ; 
 And a light spear topped with a cypress cone. 
 Round whose rude shaft dark ivy tresses grew 
 Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew, 
 Vibrated,"^ as the ever-beating heart 
 , Shook the weak hand that grasped it ; of that crew 
 He came the last, neglected and apart ; 
 A herd-abandoned deer, struck by the hunter's dart 
 
 1 Shelley here alludes to himself. 
 
 2 Note the effect here of the exceptional ictus, ami of the pause 
 after this initial word.
 
 I20 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 LIV. 
 
 That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, 
 That Beauty in which all things work and move. 
 That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse 
 Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love 
 Wiiich through the web of being blindly wove 
 By man and beast and earth and air and sea, 
 Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of 
 The fire for which all thirst ; now beams on me. 
 Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality. 
 
 LV. 
 
 The breath whose might 1 have invoked in song 
 
 Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, 
 
 P'ar from the shore, far from the trembling throng' 
 
 Whose sails were never to the tempest given : 
 
 The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! 
 
 I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ; 
 
 Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, 
 
 The soul of Adonais, like a star. 
 
 Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. 
 
 Keats' s ' Eve of St. Agnes.' 
 
 In what Tctcr l^aync call.s ' her linperiiifj, lovinj]^, 
 particularizing mood,' Imagination finds amj^lc scojk* 
 in the roomy and elaborately wrought Spenserian 
 stanza ; and the adaj)tability of the stanza to this 
 mood, is in no other poem better illustrated than 
 it is in Keats's ' Kvc of St. Agnes.' 
 
 ' Keats takes in this poem,' says Sidney Colvin, 
 ' the simple, almost threadbare theme of the love 
 of an adventurous youth for the daughter of a hos- 
 tile house . . . and brings it deftly into association
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 121 
 
 with the old popular belief as to the way a maiden 
 might on this anniversary win sight of her lover 
 in a dream. Choosing happily for such a purpose 
 the Spenserian stanza, he adds to the melodious 
 grace, the "sweet-slipping movement," as it has 
 been called, of Spenser, a transparent case and 
 directness of construction ; and with this ease and 
 directness combines ... a never-failing richness and 
 concentration of poetic meaning and suggestion.' 
 
 Of these high merits the following stanzas afford 
 signal illustrations : 
 
 r. 
 
 St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! 
 
 The owl, for all his featliers, was a-cold ; 
 
 The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass. 
 
 And silent was the flock in wooly fold ; 
 
 Numb were the beadsman's fingers while he told 
 
 His rosary, and while his frosted breath, 
 
 Like pious incense from a censer old. 
 
 Seemed taking flight for heaven without a death 
 
 Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. 
 
 II. 
 
 His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man. 
 
 Then takes his lamp, and ri.seth from his knees. 
 
 And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan. 
 
 Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees : 
 
 TI.e sculptured dead on each side seem to freeze, 
 
 Emprisoned in black, purgatorial rails : 
 
 Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries. 
 
 He passeth by ; and his weak spirit fails 
 
 To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. * 
 
 > The monuments in the chapel aisle are brought before us, not by 
 any effort of description, but solely through our sympathy with the 
 shivering fancy of the beadsman. — Sidney Colvin.
 
 122 THE SPEXSERIAN STANZA 
 
 IV. 
 
 The ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft ; 
 
 And so it chanced, for many a door was wide. 
 
 From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft. 
 
 The silver, snarling trumpets "gan to chide : 
 
 The level chambers, ready with their pride. 
 
 Were glowing to receive a thousand piests : 
 
 The car\tl'd angels, ever eager-eyed. 
 
 Stared, wiiere upon their heads tlie cornice rests. 
 
 With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.' 
 
 A fine effect is secured by the pause after the 
 initial word ' Stared,' of the ei^^hth verse. The word 
 should be read with a downward inflection. The 
 emphasis upon it is increased by its receiving an 
 irrcf^ular ictus. The alexandrine is one of the best, 
 and most picturesque, in the poem. 
 
 .xxiv. 
 
 A ca.sement high and triple-arched there was, 
 
 All garlanded with carven imageries 
 
 Of fruits, and Howers, and bunches of knot-grass, 
 
 And diamonded with panes of quaint device, 
 
 Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, 
 
 As are the tiger-moth's deep-damasked wings ; ^ 
 
 And in the midst, "mong thousand heraldries. 
 
 And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, 
 
 A shielded scutcheon blushed with blood of queens and kings.' 
 
 ' Even into the sculptured heads of the corbels in the hanqucting- 
 hall the poet strikes life. — Sidney Colvin. 
 
 2 A gorgeous jihrasc which leaves the widest r.mgc to the colour- 
 imagination of the reader, giving it at the same time a suflkient clue 
 liy the simile drawn from a particular specimen of nature's l)la/.onry. — 
 Sidney Colvin. 
 
 • The word 'Mush' makes the colour seem to come and go, while 
 the mind is at the same time sent travelling from the maiden's cham- 
 ber on thoughts of her lineage and ancestral fame. — SIDNEY CoLVIN.
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 123 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, 
 And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, 
 As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; 
 Rose-bloom fell on her hands together prest, 
 And on her silver cross soft amethyst. 
 And on her hair a glory like a saint : ^ 
 She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, 
 Save wings, for heaven : — Porphyro grew faint. 
 She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Anon his heart revives : her vespers done, 
 Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; 
 Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; "^ 
 Loosens her fragrant bodice : by degrees 
 Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees : 
 Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed. 
 Pensive a while she dreams awake, and sees. 
 In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed. 
 But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest 
 In sort of wakeful swoon, perplexed she lay. 
 Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppressed 
 Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away 
 Flown, like a thought, until the morrow day; 
 
 1 Observation, I believe, shows that moonlight has not the power 
 to transmit the hues of the painted glass as Keats in this celebrated 
 passage represents it. Let us be grateful for the error, if error it is, 
 wljich has led him to heighten by these saintly splendors of colour, the 
 sentiment of a scene wherein a voluptuous glow is so exquisitely 
 attempered with chivalrous chastity and awe. — Sidney Colvin. 
 
 - When Madeline unclasps her jewels, a weaker poet would have 
 dwelt on their lustre or other visible qualities; Keats puts those aside, 
 and speaks straight to our spirits in an epithet breathing with the very 
 life of the wearer — ' her warmed jewels.' — Sidney Colvin.
 
 124 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 Blissfully havened both from joy and pain : 
 Clasped like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; 
 Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain. 
 As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep. 
 In blanched linen, smooth and lavendered, 
 While he from forth the closet brought a heap 
 Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd, 
 With jellies soother than the creamy curd. 
 And lucent syrups tinct with cinnamon. 
 Manna and dates, in argosy transferred 
 From Fez ; and spicclid dainties every one. 
 From silken Samarcand to ccdared Lebanon.' 
 
 Probably no English poet who has used the Spen- 
 serian stanza, first assimilated so fully the spirit of 
 Spenser, before using the stanza, as did Keats ; and 
 to this fact may be partly attributed his effective use 
 of it as an organ for his imagination in its ' lingering, 
 loving, particularizing mood.' His early friend, Charles 
 Cowden Clarke, who introduced him to Spenser, de- 
 .scribes his rapturous enjoyment of the ' Faerie Oueene.' 
 And another of his friends, Charles Armitage Brown, 
 states that the earliest awakening of his poetical 
 genius was due to Spen.scr. ' In Spenser's fairyland 
 he was enchanted, breathed in a new world, . . . 
 enamoured of the stanza, he attempted to imitate it, 
 
 ' When Lorenzo sprc.-ids the feast of tiainties beside Ills sleejiing 
 mistress, we are made to feel how those ideal and rare sweets of sense 
 surround and minister to her, not only with their own natural richness, 
 l>ut with the associations .ind the homage of all far countries whence 
 they have been gathered — 
 
 ' From silken Samarcand (o ccdared I.«banon.' 
 
 — Sidney Colvin.
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 125 
 
 and succeeded. . . . This, his earhest attempt, the 
 " Imitation of Spenser," is in his first vokime of poems, 
 and it is pecuHarly interesting to those acquainted 
 with his history.' 
 
 Byron's ' Childe Harold.' 
 
 But no EngHsh poet has used the Spenserian stanza 
 with the grand vigor with which Byron has used it in 
 his ' Childe Harold.' His impetuous spirit imparts 
 a character to the stanza quite distinct from its peculiar 
 Spenserian character. Even the stanzas in which his 
 gentler and more pensive moods are embodied, bear 
 little or no similarity to the manner of Spenser. 
 
 The two following stanzas, which were inspired by 
 the battlefield of Albuera, are good examples of the 
 Byronic vigor : 
 
 Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note ? 
 Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath .-' 
 Saw ye not whom tjie reeking sabre smote, 
 Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath 
 Tyrants and tyrants' slaves ? — the fires of death. 
 The bale-fires flash on high : — from rock to rock 
 Each volley tells that thousands cease to breathe ; 
 Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc, 
 Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock. 
 
 Note, in this stanza, the unobtrusive but suggestive 
 effect of the alliteration which occurs in each and 
 every verse : * hark,' ' heard,' ' hoofs ' ; ' clang of con- 
 flict ' ; ' saw,' ' sabre,' ' smote ' ; ' saved,' ' brethren,' 
 ' sank,' ' beneath ' ; ' tyrants and tyrants' slaves ' ; 
 ' bale-fires flash,' 'rock to rock ' ; ' tells that thousands 
 cease to breathe ' ; * the sulphury Siroc ' ; ' stamps his 
 foot,' 'feel the shock.' These alliterations are all
 
 126 THE SPEXSRRIAX STAXZA 
 
 taken up into the general effect, and leave no sense 
 of trick or artifice. And there are some effective 
 ones in the stanza which follows : ' Restless it rolls, 
 now fixed, and now anon flashing alar " ; ' destruction,' 
 ' deeds are done ' ; * morn,' ' meet ' ; 'to shed before 
 his shrine.' 
 
 Lo ! where the giant on the mountain stands. 
 
 His blood-red tresses deepening in the sun, 
 Witii death-shot glowing in his tierv hands, 
 
 And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon. 
 Restless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon 
 
 Flashing afar — and at his iron feet 
 Destniction cowers to mark what deeds arc done ; 
 
 For on this morn three potent nations meet. 
 
 To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet. 
 
 — Canto i. st. 38, 39. 
 
 And the following, descriptive of a Spanish bull- 
 fight (alliteration is also in these an important element 
 of effect ; and so too are the exceptional ictus on the 
 initial words of some of the verseS : ' Hounds with one 
 lashing spring the mighty brute ' ; ' Sudden he stops' ; 
 ' Streams from his flank ' ; * Vain are his weapons ' ; 
 ' Staggering, but stemming all ' ; ' Wraj)s his fierce 
 eye ' ; ' Sheathed in his form ' ; ' Slowly he falls ' ; 
 ' Hurl the dark bulk') : 
 
 Thrice sounds the clarion ; lo! the signal AiFls, 
 
 The den ex])ands. and Kxpectation mute 
 
 Ga|)cs round the silent circle's peojiled walls. 
 
 Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute. 
 
 And, wilding staring, spurns, with sounding foot, 
 
 The .sand, nor blindly nishes on his foe : 
 
 Here, there, he jjoints his threatening front, to suit 
 
 His first attack, wide waving to and fro 
 
 His angry tail ; red rolls his eye's dilated glow.
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. izy 
 
 Sudden he stops ; his eye is fixed : away, 
 
 Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear: 
 
 Now is thy time to perish, or display 
 
 The skill that yet may check his mad career. 
 
 With well-timed croupe the nimble coursers veer ; 
 
 On foams the bull, but not unscathed he goes ; 
 
 Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear : 
 
 He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes ; 
 
 Dart follows dart ; lance, lance ; loud bellowings speak his woes. 
 
 Again he comes ; nor dart nor lance avail, 
 
 Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse ; 
 
 Though man and man's avenging arms assail, 
 
 Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force. 
 
 One gallant steed is stretched a mangled corse ; 
 
 Another, hideous sight! unseamed appears. 
 
 His gory chest unveils life's panting source ; 
 
 Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears ; 
 
 Staggering, but stemming all, his lord unharmed he bears. 
 
 Foiled, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last. 
 
 Full in the centre stands the bull at bay. 
 
 Mid wounds and clinging darts, and lances brast. 
 
 And foes disabled in the brutal fray : 
 
 And now the Matadores around him play. 
 
 Shake the red cloak and poise the ready brand : 
 
 Once more through all he bursts his thundering way — 
 
 Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand. 
 
 Wraps his fierce eye — His past — he sinks upon the sand! 
 
 Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine. 
 Sheathed in his form the deadly weapon lies. 
 He_ stops — he starts — disdaining to decline : 
 Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries, 
 Without a groan, without a stmggle dies. 
 The decorated car appears — on high 
 The corse is piled — sweet sight for vulgar eyes — 
 Four steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy. 
 Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by. 
 
 — Canto i. St. Ixxv.-lxxix.
 
 128 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 Some of Byron's finest stanzas were inspired by 
 the sea. The following has the sweep of the surge 
 in it : 
 
 Once more upon the waters! yet once more! 
 
 And the waves bound beneath me as a steed 
 
 That knows his rider. Welcome, to the roar! 
 
 Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead! 
 
 Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed, 
 
 And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, 
 
 Still must I on ; for I am as a weed. 
 
 Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail 
 
 Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. 
 
 — Canto iii. st. ii. 
 
 The stanzas descriptive of the ball at Hr'ussels, and 
 of the battle of Waterloo, are among the most 
 spirited in ' Childe Harold ' : 
 
 There was a sound of revelry by night. 
 
 And Belgium's capital had gathereil then 
 
 Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright 
 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; 
 
 A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell. 
 
 Soft eyes looked love to eyes which .spoke .igain. 
 
 And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
 
 But hush! hark! a deep .sound strikes like a rising knell! 
 
 Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind 
 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street ; 
 
 On with the dance! let joy be unconfincd : 
 
 No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet 
 
 To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — 
 
 But, hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, 
 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat ; 
 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! 
 
 Arm! Arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar!
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 1 29 
 
 Within a windowed niche of that high hall 
 
 Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear 
 
 That sound the first amidst the festival, 
 
 And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear ; 
 
 And when they smiled because he deemed it near, 
 
 His heart more truly knew that peal too well 
 
 Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, 
 
 And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell : 
 
 He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. 
 
 The alliteration in the alexandrine of this stanza is 
 effective. 
 
 And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. 
 Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
 And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
 And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
 Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
 While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, 
 Or whispering, with white lips— 'The foe! They come! they 
 come!' 
 
 — Canto iii. st. xxi.-xxiii. xxv. 
 
 But even finer than these are the stanzas descrip- 
 tive of a thunderstorm in the Alps. They could only 
 have been written out of a most inspiring sympathy 
 with the storm. The chords of the instrument are 
 struck with an unerring vigor : 
 
 The sky is changed! and such a change! O night, 
 
 And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong. 
 
 Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light 
 
 Of a dark eye in woman! Far along. 
 
 From peak to peak, the rattling crags among.
 
 I30 THE SPENSEJilAX STANZA 
 
 Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, 
 But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
 And Jura answers, tlirough her misty shroud. 
 Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud! 
 
 And this is in the night : — most glorious night! 
 Thou wcrt not sent for slumber! let me be 
 A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — 
 A portion of the tempest and of thee! * 
 How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, 
 And the big rain comes dancing to the earth! 
 And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee 
 Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth. 
 As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth. 
 
 — Can(o iii. St. xcii. xciii. 
 
 In contrast with the impetuous spirit eriibodied in 
 all the preceding stanzas, is the gentle mood which 
 informs the following stanza, descriptive of a quiet 
 night-scene on Lake Lcman : 
 
 It is the hush of night, and all between 
 
 Thy margin and the mountains, dark, yet clear, 
 
 .Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen. 
 
 Save darkened Jura, whose capt heights appear 
 
 Precipitously steep ; and drawing near. 
 
 There breathes a living fragrance from the shore. 
 
 Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear 
 
 Drops the light drip of the suspended oar. 
 
 Or chirps the grasshopper one good-nigiit carol more. 
 
 — Canto iii. tt. Uxxvi. 
 
 Perhaps the most delicious stanzas in ' Childe 
 Harold' are those descriptive oi the fountain of 
 Kgeria : 
 
 ' The thundcr-stcjrm to which these lines refer occurred on the 13th 
 of June, 1816, at inidnifjht. I have seen, aiming the Acmceraunian 
 mountains of t. him.iri, stvcral more terrible, but none more beautiful. 
 — liVKoK'h i\'oU.
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 131 
 
 Egeria ! sweet creation of some heart 
 
 Which found no mortal resting-place so fair 
 
 As thine ideal breast ; whate'er thou art 
 
 Or wert, — a young Aurora of the air, 
 
 The nympholepsy of some fond despair; 
 
 Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth. 
 
 Who found a more than common votary there 
 
 Too much adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth, 
 
 Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth. 
 
 The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled 
 
 With thine Elysian water-drops ; the face 
 
 Of thy cave-guarded spring, with years unwrinkled. 
 
 Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place. 
 
 Whose green, wild margin now no more erase 
 
 Art's works ; nor must the delicate waters sleep. 
 
 Prisoned in marble ; bubbling from the base 
 
 Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap 
 
 The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy, creep. 
 
 Fantastically tangled ; 
 
 Here the alexandrine is not sufficient to fill out the 
 measure of the poet's musing on the creeping ferns 
 and ivies, and so it runs uninterruptedly on into the 
 middle of the first verse of the next stanza : 
 
 The rill runs o'er, and round, fern, flowers, and ivy creep. 
 
 Fantastically tangled ; the green hills 
 
 Are clothed with early blossoms, through the grass 
 
 The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills 
 
 Of summer-birds sing welcome as ye pass ; 
 
 Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class. 
 
 Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes 
 
 Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass ; 
 
 The sweetness of the violet's deep-blue eyes. 
 
 Kissed by the breath of heaven, seems coloured by its skies. 
 
 — Canto iv. st. cxv.-cxvii
 
 132 THE SPENSERIAN STANZA 
 
 Tennyson's ' Lotos-Eaters' 
 
 The first five stanzas of Tennyson's ' Lotos- Eaters ' 
 are Spenserian, and they are quite unique in charac- 
 ter. One familiar with the * Faerie Queene ' and with 
 all other poems in the literature in which the stanza 
 is used, might read these five stanzas many times 
 without thinking of their being Spenserian in con- 
 struction. All the prolongable vowels of the language 
 predominate ; and many of these are encased in a 
 framework of prolongable consonants. A long-drawn 
 time, and a peculiar toning are thus imparted to the 
 verse, which subserve most effectively the theme of 
 the poem. The following is the third stanza : 
 
 The charmed .sunset lingered low adown 
 
 In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale 
 
 Was seen far inland, and the yellow down 
 
 Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale 
 
 And meadow, set with slender galingale ; 
 
 A land where all things always seemed the same! 
 
 And round a!)out the keel with faces i^ale. 
 
 Dark faces pale against that rosy flame. 
 
 The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came. 
 
 The many examples which have been given of the 
 Spenserian .stanza, from Spenser, Thomson, Shelley, 
 Keats, Hyron, and Tennyson, bear testimony to its 
 almost unlimited capabilities. Hut a comjiaratively 
 small part of those cai^abilities have been illustrated. 
 There is certainly no other group of rhyming verses 
 in the literature, which surj)asses it in cajxibilities. 
 This stanza, the dramatic blank verse of Shakespeare, 
 in its most advanced development, and the epic blank
 
 AS EMPLOYED BY SUBSEQUENT POETS. 133 
 
 verse of Milton, with its unlimited capacity of varied 
 grouping, are the noblest poetic forms which have 
 been developed in English literature. 
 . After reading the several poems enumerated, written 
 in the Spenserian stanza, the student may not be able 
 to formulate very distinctly his impressions of the 
 differences in tone, color, and moulding-spirit which 
 they exhibit ; but it is not necessary that he should 
 do so. The important thing is that he have a decided 
 consciousness of these differences ; he may then rest 
 content with a very general formulation of them, or 
 with no formulation at all. The tendency toward a 
 precipitation of what is held in solution, in a poetical 
 composition, and a crystallization of it into the abstract, 
 needs no special encouragement in these days. One 
 aim of literary culture should be, to make the con- 
 crete, as far as possible, a direct language ; rather than 
 to regard it as a foreign language to be translated 
 into the more familiar language of the intellect. The 
 spiritual nature can be vitalized only through the con- 
 crete, and the personal — through a sympathetic 
 assimilation of these. Without a susceptibility to 
 form, no one can come into the most intimate rela- 
 tionship with a product of poetic genius. He may 
 know its articulating thought ; but its essential life is 
 something other than that.
 
 IX. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF THE SPENSERIAN STANZA ON 
 OTHER MODES OF STANZA-STRUCTURE. 
 
 SPENSKR'S effective use of the ale.\andrine caused 
 this verse to be used by many succeeding i)oets 
 as a final verse to their stanzas, for the purpose of 
 securing a strong terminal emphasis, and of imparting 
 a long-drawn-out close. 
 
 Two professed imitators of Spenser employ it, 
 Phineas Fletcher, in his ' Purple Island ' (1633, but 
 written some years earlier), and Giles Fletcher, called 
 'the Sjienser of his age,' in his 'Christ's Victory and 
 Triumi)h ' (1640). 
 
 The stanza of the ' Purjile Island ' is composed of 
 seven verses, six being S-t'r/, and the seventh an alexan. 
 drine. The rhyme-scheme is alkilh'cc. The last three 
 verses rhyming together, the resulting rhyme-emphasis 
 mars the emphasis-.symmetry of the stanza, es|)ecially 
 when the rhymes are double rhymes, as they frequently 
 are. For example (the poet is describing the happi- 
 ness of the shepherd's life) : 
 
 His bed of wool yields safe aiui (|uit't slcc'iis, 
 While by his side his faithful spouse hath place; 
 His little son into his bosom creeps, 
 The lively picture of his father's face : 
 Never his huml)le house nor state torment him : 
 Less he could like, if less his (iod had sent him ; 
 And when he dies, green turfs, with grassy tomb, content him. 
 "34
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 1 35 
 
 The terminal rhyme-emphasis here is too pronounced, 
 and makes the stanza lop-sided ; the rhymes have a 
 thumping effect which is almost ludicrous. 
 ' The stanza of ' Christ's Victory and Triumph ' is 
 composed of eight verses, seven being 5 xa, and the 
 eighth, an alexandrine. The rhyme-scheme is ababbccc. 
 The emphasis-symmetry of the stanza is somewhat 
 better than that of the 'Purple Island,' by reason of 
 the fifth verse receiving a second rhyme, which serves 
 to graduate somewhat the rhyme-emphasis of the 
 stanza. 
 
 The following stanza is a little above the average 
 
 in merit : 
 
 Witness the thunder that mount Sinai heard. 
 When all the hill with fiery clouds did flame, 
 And wandering Israel, with the sight afeard, 
 Blinded with seeing, durst not touch the same. 
 But like a wood of shaking leaves became. 
 On this dead Justice, she, the Living Law, 
 Bowing herself with a majestic awe. 
 All heaven, to hear her speech, did into silence draw. 
 
 Sometimes the rhyme in the last three verses is 
 on the same vowel as that of one of the rhymes of 
 the first five, and the assonance is felt to be exces- 
 sive ; and worse, still, the rhyme (evidently by 
 chance) in the last three verses is sometimes a con- 
 tinuation of one of the first five. The following 
 stanza affords an example of this, in which there is 
 also a repetition of a final word (wore) : 
 
 About her head a cypress heaven she wore. 
 Spread like a veil, upheld with silver wire. 
 In which the stars so burnt in golden ore. 
 As seemed the azure web was all on fire :
 
 136 INFLUENCE OF THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 
 
 But hastily, to quench their sparkling ire. 
 A flood of milk came rolling up the shore, 
 That on his curded wave swift Argus wore. 
 And the immortal swan, that did her life deplore. 
 
 There is too much of a good thing here in the way 
 of rhyme. 
 
 Double rhymes also occur in the last three verses 
 of stanzas, in ' Christ's Victory and Triumph,' which 
 have the thumjiing effect illustrated by the stanza 
 given from the other poem. 
 
 The rhyme-schemes of both poems are quite arbi- 
 trary. There is no justification of the accumulated 
 rhyme-emphasis at the end of the stanzas. 
 
 Milton, who was a lover of Spenser, and, as is 
 evident, caught from him many metrical effects and 
 graces, has some beautiful alexandrines in liis ode 
 'On the Morning of Christ's Nativity.' 
 
 In the stanza employed, fine effects arc secured 
 through the varied metres and the disposition of the 
 rhymes. 
 
 The verse is regularly xa. 
 
 The first, second, fourth, and fifth verses are tri- 
 meter (3;r^). 
 
 The third and si.xth are pentameter {^xa). 
 
 The seventh is tetrameter {^xa). 
 
 The eighth is hexameter or alexandrine {dxa). 
 
 Each metre in the stanza derives some effect from 
 the other metres, the theme-metre being 3,177. 
 
 The rhyme-scheme is aabccbdd. 
 
 The structure of the stanza, and the beauty and 
 effectiveness of the closing alexandrine are well illu.s- 
 trated by the following stanzas :
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 137 
 
 V. 
 
 But peaceful was the night, 
 Wherein the Prince of light 
 
 His reign of peace upon the earth began : 
 The winds with wonder whist, 
 Smoothly the waters kist, 
 
 Whispering new joys to the mild ocean. 
 Who now hath quite forgot to rave. 
 While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 
 
 IX. 
 
 When such music sweet 
 
 Their hearts and ears did greet, 
 
 As never was by mortal finger strook ; 
 Divinely warbled voice 
 Answering the stringed noise, 
 
 As all their souls in blissful rapture took : 
 The air. such pleasure loth to lose. 
 With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But wisest Fate says No 
 This must not yet be so ; 
 
 The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy « 
 
 That on the bitter cross 
 Must redeem our loss, 
 
 So both himself and us to glorify : 
 Yet first, to those ychained in sleep, 
 The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.^ 
 
 XX. 
 
 The lonely mountains o'er, 
 And the resounding shore, 
 
 A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; 
 From haunted spring, and dale 
 Edged with poplar pale. 
 
 The parting Genius is with sighing sent ; 
 With flower-inwoven tresses torn. 
 The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. 
 
 1 This reminds uf the fine verse in 'Paradise Lost,' i. 177: 'To 
 bellow through the vast and boundless deep.'
 
 138 IXFI.UENCE OF THE SPEXSEK/AX S/AXZA. 
 
 The stanza of Milton's elegy ' On the death of a 
 fair infant,' and of ' The Passion,' distinctly reflects 
 the Spenserian stanza. It is composed of six 5.17/ 
 verses and an alexandrine, the rhyme-scheme being 
 (thabbic. 
 
 The following is the fifth stanza of the elegy : 
 
 Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, 
 
 Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb, 
 
 Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed 
 
 Hid from the world in a low-deIv6d tomb ; 
 
 Could Heaven for pity thee so strictly ' doom ? 
 
 Oh no! for something in thy face did shine 
 
 Above mortality, that showed thou wast divine. 
 
 This is a much superior stanza to the stanza of 
 Phineas Fletcher's * Purple Island,' and of Giles 
 Fletcher's ' Christ's Victory and Triumj^h,' the rhyme- 
 schemes of which are abahccc and ababbccc, respec- 
 tively. 
 
 One of Pojie's alexandrines, a qtiite Spenserian 
 one, should he noticed here. It occurs in his trans- 
 lation ^of the ' Odyssey,' in the description of the labor 
 of Si.syphus (Hk. xi. 735-738); and note the mono- 
 syllabic second verse, with its suggestive aspirates. 
 The exceptional ictus on the initial word ' Thunders ' 
 of the alexandrine, is also effective : 
 
 With many a weary step and many a groan, 
 L')) the high hill he heaves a huge round stone : 
 The huge round stone, resulting with a iiound. 
 Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. 
 
 ' Mrictly : strmlly, narrowly ; rtlcrrnn; lu ' luw dclvcil luiiib.'
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE SPENSER TAN STANZA. 139 
 
 This is certainly not what Pope, in his 'Essay on 
 Criticism ' {v. 356), calls 'a needless alexandrine/ 
 
 That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. 
 
 One other offspring of the Spenserian stanza must 
 be noticed — an unworthy one — namely, that of 
 Matthew Prior's ' Ode on the battle of Ramillies ' 
 (1706). It is composed of two quatrains, with inde- 
 pendent alternate rhyme-schemes, and a couplet of a 
 pentameter and an alexandrine, the rhyme-scheme 
 being ababcdcdee. By adding a verse to the Spen- 
 serian stanza, Prior thought that he ' made the num- 
 ber more harmo7iio7is.'' Guest remarks (* History of 
 English Rhythms,' Vol. 2, p. 394) : ' Had he stated 
 facility to be his aim, he had shown more honesty. 
 He has escaped the difficulties of Spenser's stanza, 
 but at the same time has sacrificed all its science and 
 not a little of its beauty.' 
 
 Doctor Johnson speaks of Prior's stanza as ' an 
 uniform mass of ten lines thirty-five times repeated. 
 . . . He has altered the stanza of Spenser, as a 
 house is altered by building another in its place of a 
 different form.' 
 
 It will be found worth while to read some of these 
 thirty-five stanzas, along with some of Spenser's, in 
 order to feel very distinctly the difference between 
 an organic structure of verse and a mechanical one. 
 
 One of the most notable lyrical stanzas in English 
 poetry, in which a final alexandrine is employed in 
 the service of the lyrical gush, is that of Shelley's 
 ' Ode to a Skylark.'
 
 I40 INFLUENCE OF THE SPEXSEKIA.V STANZA. 
 
 The stanza of this beautiful ode is composed of 
 five verses. The rhythm of the first four is ax, and 
 the metre is trimeter, the third and fourth verses 
 being catalectic or defective (that is, the last foot 
 lacks the light syllable). The fifth verse is an alex- 
 andrine {6xa), the rhythm being the reverse of that 
 of the other verses. This verse also receives a second 
 rhyme, rhyming*\vith the second and fourth verses of 
 the stanza, — the rhyme-scheme being ababb. Here, 
 then, are nearly all the means of enforcement em- 
 ployed upon the concluding verse: i. It is double 
 the length of the other verses (more than double that 
 of the second and fourth) ; 2. Its rhythm is the 
 reverse of that of the other verses ; 3. A second 
 rhyme falls upon it ; 4. The ])oet has, in most cases, 
 imparted to it an extra vowel and consonant melody. 
 The effect of the ode, when read aloud, is that of a 
 succession of strong gu.shes of feeling. 
 
 To revert to what has been said in regard to the 
 unifying action of feeling : the stronger, more impet- 
 uous, more lyrical the emotion of the jioet, the more 
 compact will be the resultant unities ; the rhythm, 
 which is a succession of the primal unities, will be 
 more marked ; verses will be more strongly individu- 
 alized by means of melody and rhyme, and other 
 means to which attention has been called ; and 
 stanzas will be more clo.sely bound together by means 
 of harmony, rhyme, etc. 
 
 As poetical emotion descends and thought ascends, 
 these unities, where the form is organic, not mechani- 
 cal, become looser, so to speak, until, as in Shake- 
 speare's more mature dramatic blank verse, their
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE SPENSERIAN STANZA. 141 
 
 outlines arc quite lost, and the language is little more 
 than faintly throbbing prose. 
 
 I- 
 
 Hail to thee, blithe spirit! 
 
 Bird thou never wert, 
 That from heaven or near it, 
 
 Pourest thy full heart, 
 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 
 
 II. 
 
 Higher still and higher 
 
 From the earth thou springest. 
 Like a cloud of fire 
 
 The blue deep thou wingest, 
 And singing, still dost soar, and soaring, ever singest. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Sound of vernal showers 
 
 On the twinkling grass, 
 Rain-awakened flowers. 
 
 All that ever was 
 Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Teach me half the gladness 
 
 That thy brain must know ; 
 Such harmonious madness 
 
 Through my lips would flow, 
 The world should listen then as I am listening now. 
 
 The analyses which have been presented of some 
 of the more important stanzas of English poetry, will 
 enable the student, it is hoped, to analyze other 
 stanzas, and to show their peculiar capabilities. 
 
 The organic character of a stanza must, of course, 
 first be felt. A cold-blooded analysis avails nothing.
 
 \4- hVFI.UENCE OF THE SPENSERIAX STAXZA. 
 
 The true object of an analysis is to discover some of 
 the secrets of an effect previously experienced. 
 
 But a stanza may have been arbitrarily adopted. 
 Even then, its want of adaptedness to the theme 
 must first be felt ; and it will be the object of analysis 
 to show that it is a ready-made, ill-fittinj; vesture, 
 rather than an organic form moulded by feeling.
 
 X. 
 
 THE SONNET. 
 
 ENGLISH Poetry is indebted to the Italian for 
 one of its most important art-forms, which, under 
 various modifications, has been employed by several 
 of the greatest of English poets for the embodiment 
 of some of their subtlest feelings, and noblest and 
 most spiritualized thoughts. In his sonnet on the 
 ' Sonnet,' Wordsworth, the greatest of English Son- 
 neteers, says : 
 
 with this key 
 
 Shakespeare unlocked his heart ; . . . 
 
 a glowworm lamp. 
 It ciieered mild Spenser, called from Faery Land 
 To struggle with dark ways ; and when a damp 
 Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand 
 The thing became a trumpet, whence he blew 
 Soul -animating strains — alas, too few"! 
 
 And in another of his sonnets, he says : 
 
 to me, 
 In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound 
 Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground : 
 Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be) 
 Who have felt the weight of too much liberty. 
 Should find brief solace there, as I have found. 
 
 After setting forth the strict rules to which the 
 sonnet is subject, Archbishop Trench asks: 'What 
 
 143
 
 144 THE SONNET. 
 
 are the advantages which the sonnet offers to com- 
 pensate for the difficulties which it presents, for the 
 restraints which it imposes? Why has the sonnet 
 been, with poets at least, I speak not now of their 
 readers, so favourite a metre ? They have, in the 
 first place, felt, no doubt, the advantage of that check 
 to diffuseness, that necessity of condensation and con- 
 centration which these narrow limits impose. Often- 
 times a poem which, except for these, would have 
 been but a loose nebulous vajjour, has been com- 
 pressed and rounded into a star. . . . The sonnet, 
 like a Grecian temple, may be limited in its scope, 
 but like that, if successful, it is altogether jicrfect.' 
 
 The greatest of the Italian sonnet writers are 
 Petrarch, Dante, Tasso, Ario.sto, Michel Angelo, and 
 Vittoria Colonna ; and to these masters we must 
 look for the best types of this poetical structure. 
 And it will be found that those sonnets, in English 
 poetry, which conform most closely to these types, 
 in form and function, are, in general, the most satis- 
 fying, though it will be seen that many of the noblest 
 English sonnets violate, in some respects, the Italian 
 sonnet legislation, while .securing the peculiar art- 
 effect of the sonnet. 
 
 That jjeculiar art-effect, in its best and deepest 
 form, is well, though somewhat loftily, expressed in 
 the sestet of a sonnet by Theodore Watts, entitled 
 ' The Sonnet's Voice. A metrical lesson by the sea- 
 shore ' : 
 
 Yon silvery l)illo\vs l)reakinj^ on iIil- hcach 
 
 Fall back in foam beneath the star-shine clear. 
 The while my rhymes are murmuriny in your ear 
 
 A restless lore like that the billows teach ;
 
 THE SONNET. 1 45 
 
 For on these sonnet-waves my soul would reach 
 From its own depths, and rest within you, dear. 
 As, through the billowy voices yearning here 
 
 Great Nature strives to find a human speech. 
 
 A sonnet is a wave of melody : 
 
 From heaving waters of the impassioned soul 
 
 A billow of tidal music one and whole 
 Flows in the ' octave ' ; then, returning free, 
 
 Its ebbing surges in the ' sestet ' roll 
 Back to the deeps of Life's tumultuous sea.^ 
 
 The perfection to which the sonnet has been brought, 
 in the land of its birth, and its extensive use by all 
 grades of poetical ability, testify to the intrinsic value 
 of it as a poetical organ, and the high estimation in 
 which it has for centuries been held. And this high 
 estimation, while it has resulted in many ' a thing 
 of beauty ' which will be ' a joy forever,' has also 
 resulted in the production of thousands of worthless 
 specimens, by poetasters who made of it a literary 
 plaything. 
 
 In the production of a sonnet of triumphant success, 
 heart, head, and hand must be right. If they are not, 
 there is no other poetical form which is such a tell- 
 tale, and which so reveals all the shortcomings and 
 disqualifications of its author. ' Apart from all sanc- 
 tioris, the student of poetry knows that no form of 
 verse is a surer touchstone of mastery than this, which 
 is so easy to write badly, so supremely difficult to 
 write well, so full both of hindrance and of occasion 
 
 ' First published in the London Atheturum, September 17th, 1881, 
 and quoted in preface (p. xxi) of Sonnets of Three Centuries.' Edited 
 by T. Hall Caine, London, 1882.
 
 146 THE SONNET. 
 
 in all matters of structure and style ; neither any a 
 more searching test of inspiration, since on the one 
 hand it seems to provoke the affectations of ingenuity, 
 and on the other hand it has been chosen by the 
 greatest men of all as the medium for their most 
 intimate, direct, and overwhelming self-disclosures.' ^ 
 ' The steadiness of hand and clearness of mind re- 
 quired for rounding into the invariable limit of fourteen 
 iambic lines some weighty matter of thought or 
 delicate subtlety of feeling is not easy to overrate.'* 
 
 The first requirement of a sonnet is that it consist 
 of fourteen 5 xa verses. The second is, that these 
 fourteen verses be ^;;^'V7///W7//j' divided into an octave 
 and a sestet (the former subdivided into two quatrains, 
 the latter into two tercets) ; which organic divisions 
 must have distinct rhyme-schemes, as exponents of 
 their separate functions. Furthermore, the rhymes 
 in the sestet must not clash in any way with those in 
 the octave. Their vowels should be different, and so 
 should their consonant framework, otherwise the dis- 
 tinctness of the two rhyme-schemes is somewhat 
 reduced. 
 
 Hut there are hundreds of English .sonnets which 
 have the two distinct rhyme-schemes required, while 
 there is no turn or change in the subject-matter of 
 the sestet from that of the octave. In such case they 
 are without any organic significance. They have 
 nothing to do with the constitution of the poem. The 
 poet has simply adopted the normal number of verses 
 
 ' Tht Westmittiter Rn'inv, January, 1871, p. 78. 
 ' • (Jur Living Poets, An I'juay in Crititisni,' l»y H. Huxtun Korman, 
 l> 209.
 
 THE SONNET. 147 
 
 and the rhyme-schemes of a poetical art-structure, 
 which are not called for by the character of his 
 composition. 
 
 Tomlinson ^ gives the three types (according to the 
 order of the rhymes) to which the greater number of 
 the best Italian sonnets conform. 
 
 The rhyme-schemes of the three types are the fol- 
 lowing, those of the octaves being the same in all : 
 
 Type I. abbaabba cdecde 
 Type II. abbaabba cdcdcd 
 Type III. abbaabba cdedce 
 
 He shows that a large proportion of the sonnets 
 of Petrarch, Dante, Michel Angelo, Tasso, Ariosto, 
 and Vittoria Colonna, conform to one or other of 
 these three types. The departures from them are 
 chiefly the following : 
 
 A very small number of sonnets have their oc- 
 taves in alternate rhyme : abababab; the rhymes of 
 the second quatrain being sometimes reversed, abab- 
 baba. 
 
 The exceptional rhyme-schemes of the sestets are 
 
 the following: 
 
 cdccdc 
 
 cdddc c 
 
 cdeedc 
 
 cdedec 
 
 cde ced 
 
 cde ecd 
 
 I'The Sonnet: its Origin, Structure, and Place in Poetry. With 
 original translations from the sonnets of Dante, Petrarch, etc., and 
 remarks on the art of translating. By Charles Tomlinson, F.R.S.' 
 London, John Murray, 1874.
 
 148 rilE SONNET. 
 
 But the number of sonnets whose sestets exhibit 
 one or other of these exceptional rhyme-schemes is 
 comparatively small. 
 
 After noting the metrical arrangements of 760 
 sonnets, by the above-named poets, he remarks : 
 ' The conclusion to be drawn from these statements 
 is, that the Italian sonnet is a poem of regular con- 
 struction. It is not what some of our best English 
 poets make it, namely, a short continuous poem, run- 
 ning through, from the first line to the last, in almost 
 any order, and winding up with a couplet ; but built 
 up of parts or quatrains, the Basi, or bases, of the 
 structure ; and of tercets, or Volte, turnings or roads 
 to which the hasi point. Moreover, each quatrain 
 has its peculiar office or function, as well as each 
 tercet, and hence they should be kept distinct, and 
 not be run into each other, — (as distinct as the sepa- 
 rate parts of the Greek choral ode, which has been 
 supposed by some to be the parent of the regular 
 Italian sonnet ;)the first quatrain being equivalent to 
 the strophe, the second to the antistrophe ; the first 
 tercet to the epode, and the second tercet to the 
 antipode.' 
 
 The great luiglish poets who have most con- 
 formed to the normal Italian type, in the rhyme- 
 schemes, and in observing a distinction in the functions 
 of the octaves and the sestets, have not generally 
 made the subdivisions of these (the quatrains and 
 the tercets) di.stinct in function. This extreme of 
 organic elaboration is not found in many English 
 sonnets. It evidently docs not suit the English 
 genius. There is, it must be admitted, a certain
 
 THE SONNET. 1 49 
 
 artistic satisfaction in such strictness of workman- 
 ship ; but this strictness is more than compensated 
 for, in the greatest EngHsh sonnets, by the high 
 quality of the thought and feeling, in the two main 
 divisions, taken as wholes. When the functions of 
 these are kept distinct, there is an all-sufficient severity 
 of form. When this severity is carried further, the 
 danger is, if the subject-matter is not of a sufficiently 
 high quality, that of the result, when most successful, 
 may be said what Ovid says of the silver doors of 
 the palace of the Sun, ' inateriem supcrabat optis,' the 
 workmanship surpassed the material. 
 
 Matthew Arnold, in his Address as President of 
 the Wordsworth Society, 1883, after speaking of 
 Wordsworth's spiritual passion, when he is at his 
 highest, continues: 'A second invaluable merit which 
 I find in Wordsworth is this : he has something to 
 say. Perhaps one prizes this merit the more as one 
 grows old, and has less time left for trifling. Goethe 
 got so sick of the fuss about form and technical 
 details, without due care for adequate contents, that 
 he said if he were younger he should take pleasure 
 in setting the so-called art of the new school of poets 
 at naught, and in trusting for his whole effect to his 
 having something important to say.' ^ 
 
 1 Eckermann, Gesprdche mii Goethe, ii. 260-262 : ' Es ist immer ein 
 Zeichen einer unproductiven Zeit, wenn die so ins Kleinliclie des 
 Technischen geht, und eben so ist es ein Zeichen eines unproductiven 
 Individuums, wenn es sich mit dergleichen befasst . . . Ware ich 
 noch jung und verwegen genug, so wiirde ich al)sichtlich gegen alle 
 solche technische Grillen verstossen . . . aber ich wiirde auf die 
 Hauptsache losgehen, und so gute Dinge zu sagen suchen, dass jeder 
 gereizt warden sollte, es zu lescn und auswendig zu lernen.'
 
 150 THE SOXXET. 
 
 There is not imjilied in these remarks any depre- 
 ciation whatever of the importance of elaboration 
 of form, without which, impassioned or spiritualized 
 thought could not be adequately expressed. What is 
 meant to be condemned is the mere etiquette of form, 
 — a conventional, not an organic technique. 
 
 A number of sonnets will now be jiresented from 
 Milton, Wordsworth, and other poets, which conform 
 more or less strictly to the three Italian types, the 
 octave rhyme-schemes of which are all abba abba 
 called in Italian, rivia eliiusa (shut up or enclosed 
 rhyme) ; and the sestet rhyme-schemes are : i . rima 
 iucatenata, interlaced or interlocked rhymes, ede ede 
 (variations of which are cde dec and ede ccd)\ 2. rima 
 alternata, alternate rhymes, cde ded. 
 
 Type I. ABBA ABBA CDE CDE. 
 
 This is regarded as the truest Italian type, and it 
 certainly conforms best with the idea of the sonnet. 
 The interlaced or interlocked rhymes of the sestet are 
 the best adapted to what is the proj)er function of this 
 division of the sonnet; for the reason that the rhyme- 
 emphasis of this scheme is the most evenly distributed, 
 each verse on which a rhyme falls being a third verse 
 from that with which it rhymes. The (|uieter the 
 subsidence of the thought and feeling in the sestet, 
 the more agreeable the final imjiression generally is. 
 Adjacent rhymes j)resent a more or less sensible 
 check to this subsidence, whether they close or arc 
 within the sestet.
 
 THE SONNET. 151 
 
 To Cyriack Skinner. (Milton.) 
 
 Cyriack, whose grandsire ^ on the royal bench 
 Of British Themis,'^ with no mean applause, 
 Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws, 
 Which others at their bar so often wrench ; 
 
 To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench 
 In mirth that, after, no repenting draws ; 
 Let Euclid ^ rest, and Archimedes pause. 
 And what the Swede intend, ■* and what the French. 
 
 To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 
 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way ; 
 For other things mild Heaven a time ordains. 
 
 And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
 That with superfluous burden loads the day. 
 And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. 
 
 * Many of Wordsworth's so-called sonnets,' says 
 Tomlinson, ' are not sonnets at all, according to the 
 Italian definition ; but it must also be added, that 
 whenever he submits to that definition, whether con- 
 sciously or not, and has some respect for the har- 
 mony of the form, the thought becomes more sharply 
 defined and elaborated, and the result is not only 
 Wordsworth's best sonnet, but an English sonnet 
 deserving of the name. If I were called upon to 
 justify this statement by an example, I should be dis- 
 posed to cite the sonnet to Haydon. It is regularly 
 
 ^ Whose grandsire : Sir Edward Coke, Chief Justice of England. 
 Skinner's mother was a daughter of Sir Edward. 
 2 Themis : the goddess of law and justice. 
 ' Skinner was fond of mathematical studies. 
 
 * Intend (ed. 1673) : what the Swede and what the French intend. 
 The Swede, Charles X. (Charles Tiustavus), was carrying on war with 
 Poland, and the French with the Spaniards in the Netherlands.
 
 152 THE SOS' NET. 
 
 built up according to the first type — the second 
 quatrain terminates in a full point, and the tercets in 
 alternate rhyme ^ lead happily to a noble conclusion.' 
 
 To R. B. Haydon, Esq. 
 
 High is our calling, Friend! — Creative Art 
 (Whether the instrument of words she use, 
 Or pencil pregnant with etheteal hues) 
 Demands the ser\ice of a mind and heart. 
 Though sensitive, yet, in their weakest part 
 Heroically fashioned — to infuse 
 Faith in the whispers of the lonely Muse. 
 While the whole world seem.s adverse to desert. 
 And, oh, when Nature sinks, as oft she may. 
 Through long-lived pressure of obscure distress, 
 Still to be strenuous for the bright reward. 
 And in the soul admit of no decay. 
 Brook no continuance of weak-mindedness — 
 Great is the glory, for tlie strife is hard I - 
 
 Four of the six beautiful sonnets which Longfellow 
 prefixed to his translation of Dante's ' Divina Com- 
 
 ' The rhymes of the tercets are not alternate but interlaced or inter- 
 locked, cde tde. 
 
 2 Sending this sonnet to Ilaydon on Dcccinl>cr 2i, 1815, Words- 
 worth said it * was occasioned, I niiKht say inspired, hy your last let- 
 ter.' In Haydon's letter of November 27, the following occurs: "I 
 have benefited anrl have been supported in the troul)les of life by your 
 poetry. I will bear want, pain, niisiTV, and blindness; but I will never 
 yield one step I have gained on the road I am determined to travel 
 over.' Prof. A'nif,'/it''s Note. 'No new books worth sending for but 
 "Haydon's Life," which is as pathetic and strange as Rousseau's.' — 
 R. M. .Mihus'i Ltlter to C. J. MafCarthy. O.t. iSth, iSjj.
 
 THE SONNET. 153 
 
 media ' ^ belong to Type I. The following is the 
 second of the two prefixed to the ' Inferno.' 
 
 The Divina Commcdia is conceived of as a vast 
 minster, with its sculptures and statues, and elaborate 
 emblematic devices, which uprose from the poet's 
 agonies and exultations, his tenderness, his hate of 
 wrong. 
 
 How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers! 
 ^ This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves 
 
 Birds build their nests ; while canopied with leaves 
 Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers. 
 
 And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers! 
 But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves 
 Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves, 
 And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers! 
 
 Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain. 
 What exultations trampling on despair. 
 What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong. 
 
 What passionate outcry of a soul in pain. 
 Uprose this poem of the earth and air. 
 This mediaeval miracle of song ! 
 
 The following is the second of the two prefixed to 
 the ' Purgatorio. ' This sonnet is in the strictest accord- 
 ance with the Italian type. Each quatrain and each 
 tercet is distinct and has its own function. There 
 are no sonnets in the language more perfect than this 
 in their workmanship, nor more perfect, aesthetically. 
 The rhyme-effect could not be finer, especially that 
 from the vowel e, in the sestet. 
 
 1 The two examples of Type I., and the one example of Type II., are 
 given with the kind permission of the publishers, Messrs. Houghton, 
 Mifflin & Co., of Boston.
 
 154 THE SONNET. 
 
 With snow-white veil and garments as of flame. 
 She stands before thee, who so long ago 
 Filled thy young heart witii passion and the woe 
 From wliich thy song and all its splendors came ; 
 
 And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name. 
 The ice about thy heart melts as the snow 
 On mountain heights, and in swift overflow 
 Comes gushing from thy lips in sol)s of shame. 
 
 Thou makest full confession ; and a gleam. 
 As of the dawn on some dark forest cast. 
 Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase ; 
 
 Lethe and Eunoe — the remembered dream 
 And the forgotten sorrow — bring at last 
 That perfect pardon which is perfect peace. 
 
 Type II. ABBA ABBA CDC DC D. 
 
 When the Assault was intended to the City.} (Milton.) 
 
 Captain, or Colonel,'^ or Knight in Arms, 
 
 Whose chance on the.se defenceless doors may seize. 
 
 If deed of honour did thee ever jilease.^ 
 
 Guard lliem, and him within protect from liarms. 
 
 ' '" On his don when ye citly expeded an assault" is the original 
 heading of the sonnet in the copy of it, by an amanuensis, among the 
 Cambridge MSS., as if the sonnet had actually been posted or nailed 
 up on the outside of Milton's door. This title was afterwards deleted 
 by Milton himself, and the other title sul)stituted in his own hand; but 
 the sonnet appeared without any title at all in the edilinns of 1645 and 
 1673.' — Mass(jn. 
 
 ' Colonel : to be pronounced in three syllables, col-o-nel. * Also 
 spelt (oronel, Holland's " I'liny," bk. xxii. c. 23; which is the .Spanish 
 form of the word, due to substitution of r for /, a common linguistic 
 change; whence also the present pronunciation curnel.' — SKtAT's 
 Etymological Dictionary. 
 
 ' As it stands in the edition of 1673, and also in the rambri<!ge 
 MS.; in the edition of 1645 it stands: 'If ever dccil of honour did 
 thee please.'
 
 THE SONNET. 155 
 
 He can requite thee ; for he knows the charms ^ 
 That call fame on such gentle acts as these, 
 And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas. 
 Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. 
 Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower : 
 The great Emathian - conqueror bid spare 
 The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower 
 Went to the ground ; and the repeated air ^ 
 Of sad ■* Electra's poet had the power 
 To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. 
 
 Wordsworth's beautiful sonnet, ' The world is too 
 much with us,' is in almost strict accordance with 
 the second Italian type — the exception being that 
 the subject-matter of the octave runs over into the 
 ninth verse, but only to the extent of 2 xa, ' It 
 moves us not,' and this transgression does not in the 
 least impair the artistic merit of the sonnet. It 
 rather has a pleasant effect, when the sonnet is read 
 aloud. And then the transition to the sestet is dis- 
 tinctly marked by the exclamation, 'Great God! I'd 
 rather be,' etc. 
 
 1 Charms : magic verses, carmina. ' Carmina vel cselo possunt dedu- 
 cere lunam.' — ViRG. Btic. viii. 69 (Keightley). 
 
 ^ The great Emathian (Macedonian) conqueror : Alexander the 
 Great, by whom Thebes was sacked, B.C. 333. 
 
 8 And the repeated air : Plutarch tells us that when it was under 
 debate in the camp of Lysander whether Athens should be levelled or 
 not, a Phocian minstrel chanced to sing, at a banquet of the chief offi- 
 cers, the chorus from the ' Electra ' of Euripides, commencing with 
 
 ' Ayan^nvovoi w /c6pa, 
 
 i)\v0ov, HX^KTpa, ttotI aav aypbreipav ai>\iv, k.t.X. v. 167, 
 
 and the guests were so affected that they declared it would be an 
 unworthy deed to reduce to ruin a place so renowned as the birthplace 
 of illustrious men. — repeated, i.e. recited, sung. — Keightley. 
 * Sad : qualifies Electra.
 
 156 THE SONNET. 
 
 The thought that our hearts are divorced from 
 Nature, and her ministrations, is set forth in the first 
 quatrain, and enforced by sjiecial instances, in the 
 second — the two quatrains putting the reader in full 
 and distinct possession of it. In the sestet, the poet 
 expresses his preference for a heart open to the con- 
 soling and cheering influences of the great mother, 
 even if it were the heart of a pagan, having faith in 
 the Nature-deities of Greece and Rome. 
 
 This sonnet ranks with the noblest in the litera- 
 ture, both in its matter and in its aesthetic merit. The 
 last two verses are grandly melodious. 
 
 The world i.s too much with us ; late and .soon, (K^ 
 Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; // 
 Little we see in Nature that is ours ; P. 
 V^e have given our hearts away, a sordid Ijoon!' '^- 
 This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; 0L» 
 The winds that will be howling at all hours, », 
 And arc up-gathcrcd nowJike sleeping flowers;^ 
 For this, for everything, we are out ol tune ; "^ 
 It moves us not. -^ Great God! I'd rather be *~ 
 A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; q^ 
 So might I, standing on this plc;i.sant lea, c 1 
 
 Have glimp.ses that would make me less forlorn ;oL 
 Have sight of Proteus rising ' from the .sea ;0- i 
 Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. »' 
 
 The following is the first of the two sonnets pre- 
 fixed to Longfellow's translation of the ' Inferno' : 
 
 Oft have I seen at some cathedral door 
 A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, 
 I^y down his burden, and with reverent feet 
 
 Knter, and cross himself, and on the floor 
 
 Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er; 
 
 ' Have si^ht of TroteuB coming frum the sea. 1807.
 
 THE SONNET. 1$? 
 
 Far off the noises of the world retreat ; 
 
 The loud vociferations of the street 
 Become an undistingiiishable roar. 
 So, as I enter here from day to day, 
 
 And leave my burden at this minster gate. 
 Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray, 
 
 Tlie tumult of the time disconsolate ^ 
 To inarticulate murmurs dies away. 
 
 While the eternal ages watch and wait. 
 
 Type III. ABBA ABBA CDE DCE. 
 
 On his being arrived at the age of twenty- three. (Milton.) 
 
 How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth, 
 
 Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year! 
 
 My hasting days fly on with full career. 
 
 But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.^ 
 
 Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,^ 
 
 That I to manhood am arrived so near, 
 
 And inward ripeness doth much less appear 
 
 That some more timely happy spirits enduHh. 
 
 Yet be it le.ss or more, or soon* or slow. 
 
 It shall be still in strictest measure even ^ 
 
 To that same lot ® however mean or high. 
 
 Toward which time leads me and the will of heaven. 
 
 All is,'^ if I have grace to use it so. 
 
 As ever in my great taskmaster's eye. 
 
 1 The reference here is, perhaps, to our Civil War. 
 
 2 Shew'th : to be pronounced shooth. 
 
 3 He appeared younger than he really was. In his Second Defence 
 of the people of England, he says : ' Though I am more than forty 
 years old, there is scarcely any one to whom I do not appear ten years 
 younger than I am.' 
 
 * Soon : adj. early. 
 
 6 Still : ever; even : equal in proportion. 
 ' Lot : station in life. 
 
 ' .Ml is, etc. : All depends upon my employing it as feeling myself to 
 be under the eyes of my great Task-Master. — KticHriKV.
 
 158 THE SO. WET. 
 
 Sonnets variously Irregular, but having the 
 True Sonnet Character. 
 
 A number of sonnets will now be given which 
 exhibit various departures from the normal Italian 
 types, but which all realize, to a greater or less 
 degree, the idea of the sonnet, and produce its pecu- 
 liar artistic imj^ression, more or less distinctly — that 
 is, the impression derived from organic octave and 
 sestet divisions, the octave division presenting, com- 
 pletely and distinctly, a basal thought or fact, from 
 which proceeds, in the sestet, a corollary iji the form 
 of a sentiment, or retiection, or conclusion of some 
 kind, such as would be suggested, by the thought or 
 I fact, to a flexible, and sensitive, and poetic mind. As 
 has been just said, the sestet is a species of corollary, 
 that is, a little crown or garland, as the word signi- 
 fies, bestowed upon the thought in the octave. 
 
 The question to be asked, in judging what purjjorts 
 to be a sonnet, is, does it adequately meet the above 
 conditions."* It may not meet them, and yet be a 
 very beautiful composition ; but it is not a sonnet, in 
 the strict special sense of the term. 
 
 The sonnets which follow illustrate the fact that 
 the ideal type of the sonnet may be variously modi- 
 fied (not really dejiarted from), and yet the distinctive 
 character of the sonnet may be jjreserved, and its 
 di.stinctive artistic effect produced. The Klizabethan 
 sonnet cannot be said to be a modification of the son- 
 net proper, as its organic construction is different, and 
 the resultant artistic effect is different.
 
 THE SONNET. I 59 
 
 In the following sonnet, by Wordsworth, the octave 
 rhyme-scheme is abbabaab, instead of the normal 
 abbaabba, the as and the b's being interchanged in 
 the quatrains. Each quatrain is kept distinct, and 
 has its own function — the first characterizing the 
 rule-bound poet, the second advising a vital art which 
 has its own inherent law, and follows it, regardless of 
 outside and traditional authority and criticism. 
 
 The first tercet sets forth the freedom and boldness 
 of the meadow-flower, in unfolding its bloom ; the 
 second represents the forest-tree as owing its grandeur 
 to its own divine vitality. 
 
 This is a very pleasing sonnet. 
 
 A Poet! He hath put his heart to school, 
 
 Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff 
 
 Which Art hath lodged within his hand — must laugh 
 
 By precept only, and shed tears by rule. 
 
 Thy Art be Nature : the live current quaff, 
 
 And let the groveller sip his stagnant pool. 
 
 In fear that else, when Critics grave and cool 
 
 Have killed him. Scorn should write his epitaph. 
 
 How does the Meadow-flower its bloom unfold? 
 
 Because the lovely little flower is free ' 
 
 Down to its root, and, in that freedom, bold; 
 
 And so the grandeur of the Forest-tree - 
 
 Comes not by casting in a formal mould 
 
 But from its own divine vitality. 
 
 In the following sonnet, by Wordsworth, the rhyme- 
 scheme of the octave is ababcbcb, the dominant and 
 somewhat indistinct b rhyme (none, upon, tone, gone) 
 imparting a tone well adapted to the theme. The 
 turn which the thought takes in the sestet is in the
 
 l6o THE SONNET. 
 
 happiest manner of Wordsworth's sonnets. The 
 entire sonnet is very distinctly Wordsworthian in 
 thought and feeling. 
 
 Most sweet is it with un-uplifted eyes 
 To pace the ground, if path be there or none. 
 While a fair region round the traveller lies 
 ™ o \ — Which he forbears again to look u|)on ; 
 
 Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene. 
 
 The work of Fancy, or some happy tone 
 
 Of meditation, slipping in between 
 
 The beauty coming and the beauty gone. 
 
 If Thought and Love desert us, from that day 
 
 Let us break off all commerce with the Muse : 
 
 With Thought and Love com])anions of our way, 
 
 Whate'er the senses take or may refuse, 
 
 The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews 
 
 Of inspiration on the humblest lay. 
 
 Hood's beautiful sonnet, entitled 'Silence,' has a 
 most satisfying artistic effect ; the artistic effect, too, 
 peculiar to the sonnet, notwithstanding that it ends 
 with a couplet. The couplet-rhyme, too, is a strong 
 one, falling, as it does, on a long o, encased, in both 
 rhyming words, in prolongable sub-vowels, ;//, //, and 
 /, //. Hut in this particular case, one would have to 
 be a bigoted stickler for the established legislation of 
 the sonnet, to condemn this violation of an im|)ortant 
 sonnet rule. Rather, it must be felt that the final 
 word 'alone,' in itself, and also as emphasized by the 
 rhyme, contributes to the general imj^ression aimed 
 after. The rhyme-scheme is abhaabba ciicdcc. 
 
 In the octave, physical silence, if the e.\i)ression be 
 allowed, is presented — the mere ab.scnce of all sound : 
 the silence of the grave, of the depths of the sea, of
 
 THE SONNET. l6l 
 
 the wide desert where no life is found ; in the sestet, 
 what may be called moral silence is presented — the 
 silence which is deepened to the human spirit, and 
 made 'self-conscious,' as it were, by human associa- 
 tions, and by sounds which intensify the sense of 
 desolation. 
 
 The impression of solitude and silence is deepened 
 by presenting to the mind green ruins and the deso- 
 late walls of antique palaces where man hath been, 
 on the principle set forth by De Quincey, in his 
 remarks on the effect of the expressions, ' amphitheatre 
 of woods,' ' amphitheatre of hills ' : 'In the word 
 theatre is contained an evanescent image of a great 
 audience — of a populous multitude. Now this image 
 — half withdrawn, half flashed upon the eye — and 
 combined with the word hills or forests, is thrown into 
 powerful collision with the silence of hills — with the 
 solitude of forests ; each image, from reciprocal con- 
 tradiction, brightens and vivifies the other. The two 
 images act and react, by strong repulsion and an- 
 tagonism.' ^ 
 
 The sonnet, while being a beautiful composition in 
 itself, is an admirable illustration of the functions of 
 the two main divisions of the sonnet, — the sestet 
 crowning the thought presented in the octave, — anoint- 
 ing it, so to speak. 
 
 There is a silence where hath been no sound. 
 There is a silence where no sound may be. 
 In the cold grave — under the deep, deep sea, 
 Or in wide desert where no life is found, 
 
 1 ' Theological Essays and Other Papers,' Boston, i86o, vol. ii. 
 Milton, p. io8.
 
 1 62 THE SONNET. 
 
 Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound ; 
 
 No voice is hushed — no life treads silently, 
 
 But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free. 
 
 That never spoke, over the idle ground : 
 
 But in green ruins, in the desolate walls 
 
 Of antique palaces, where man hath been. 
 
 Though the dun fox, or wild hyjena, calls. 
 
 And owls that flit continually between, 
 
 Siiriek to the echo, and the low winds moan, 
 
 There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone. 
 
 Some readers might regard the last verse as an 
 alexandrine ; but, in effect, when i)roperly read, it is 
 a pentameter verse. The voice should make a down- 
 ward wave upon ' true,' the new idea, should go up 
 on Silence is,' and down on the syllabic ' con ' ; the 
 last foot, ' alone,' should be read on a lower key, and 
 the voice should be well filled out upon it. 
 
 Wordsworth's sonnet on Milton, written in London, 
 September, i8o3, is one of his noblest sonnets. 
 
 The poet invokes his great predecessor f)n the throne 
 of English poetry, as one whose lofty sjMrit luigland 
 needs, to lift her out of the base materialistic and 
 utilitarian interests, the commonplace worldlincss, in 
 which she is absorbed, and to inspire her with nobler 
 aims.^ This is the basal thought presented in the 
 octave — an octave remarkable for the closely packed 
 
 ' The Rev. F". W. Robertson, in a lecture on Wordsworth, 1853, 
 remarks that the first qualilicatioii fur appreciating putlry is unworKlli- 
 ncss, aii'ladiis: ' IJy wurldliness I mean ciitaiij^kiiRiit in tlic temporal and 
 visible. It is the spirit of worldliness which makes a man love show, 
 splendor, rank, title, and sensual enjoyments; and occupies his atten- 
 tion, cliicfly or entirely, with conversation rcspcclinj^ merely |)assin^ 
 events, and passing aci|uaintances.'
 
 THE SONNET. 1 63 
 
 elements included in its structure. And the many- 
 pauses required in its vocal expression, serve to exhibit 
 the strong fervor of the invocation. For the proper 
 reading of it, at least nineteen pauses are required. 
 The quatrains are not kept distinct. In the sestet, 
 the invocation is justified by the exalted character 
 presented of the invoked, the sense of which is regis- 
 tered in the versification of the first tercet, which has 
 a grandeur of movement, and there is a certain charm 
 in the subsidence of that grandeur in the second 
 tercet. The rhyme-scheme is abbaabba cddcce. 
 
 Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: 
 
 England hath need of thee : she is a fen 
 
 Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, 
 
 Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, 
 
 Have forfeited their ancient English dower 
 
 Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; 
 
 Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; 
 
 And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. 
 
 Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart ; 
 
 Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : * 
 
 Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 
 
 So didst thou travel on life's common way. 
 
 In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart 
 
 The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 
 
 In connection with this sonnet, the following, which 
 is addressed to Coleridge, should be read. It was 
 also written in London, September, 1802, and was 
 
 * O mighty-mouthed inventor of harmonies, 
 
 O skilled to sing of Time or Eternity, 
 
 God-gifted organ-voice of England, 
 
 Milton, a name to resound for ages. 
 
 — Tennyson.
 
 1 64 THE SONNET. 
 
 prompted by the same state of thinj^s. The rhyme- 
 scheme is the same : abbaabba cddecc. Though the 
 matter of the first quatrain runs over, one foot (' Or 
 groom') into the second quatrain, and the matter of 
 the second quatrain into the first tercet, one foot and 
 a light syllable, xax ('Delights us'), each quatrain 
 and each tercet has its own function, and the full 
 artistic effect of the sonnet organization is produced. 
 Wordsworth seems to have been fond of this running 
 over, a foot or two, of one division of the sonnet into 
 another, and the effect is often good. It is so in this 
 sonnet addressed to Coleridge : 
 
 O Friend! I know not which way I must look 
 
 F"or comfort, being, as I am, opprest. 
 
 To think that now our Life is only drest 
 
 For show ; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook. 
 
 Or groom! — We must run glittering Uke a Hrook 
 
 In the open .sunshine, or we arc unljjcst : 
 
 The wealthiest man among us is the best : 
 
 No grandeur now in nature or in l)ook 
 
 Delights us. Rajjine, avarice, expense. 
 
 This is idolatry ; and these we adore : 
 
 Plain living and high thinking are no more: 
 
 The homely beauty of the good old Cause 
 
 Is gone ; our peace, our fearful innocence. 
 
 And pure religion breathing household laws. 
 
 The last four verses are nolile in sentiment and 
 beautiful in expression. ' Plain living and high 
 thinking,' and ' pure religion breathing household 
 laws,' have become familiar (|U()tations. 
 
 In a letter to Alexander Dyce (1^33), Wordsworth 
 writes : ' . . . Though I have written so many [son- 
 nets], I have scarcely made up my own mind upon
 
 THE SONNET. 1 65 
 
 the subject. It should seem that the sonnet, Hke any- 
 other legitimate composition, ought to have a begin- 
 ning, a middle, and an end ; in other words, to con- 
 sist of three parts, like the three propositions of a 
 syllogism, if such an illustration may be used. But 
 the frame of metre adopted by the Italian does not 
 accord with this view ; and, as adhered to by them, it 
 seems to be, if not arbitrary, best fitted to a division 
 of the sense into two parts, of eight and six lines each. 
 Milton, however, has not submitted to this ; in the 
 better half of his sonnets the sense does not close with 
 the rhyme at the eighth line, but overflows into the 
 second portion of the metre. Now, it has struck me, 
 that this is not done merely to gratify the ear by variety 
 and freedom of sound, but also to aid in giving that 
 pervading sejise of intense 7mity in which the excellence 
 of the sonnet has ahvays seemed to me mainly to con- 
 sist. Instead of looking at this composition as a piece 
 of architecture, making a whole out of three parts, I 
 have been much in the habit of preferring the image 
 of an orbicular body, — a sphere or a dew-drop. All 
 this will appear to you a little fanciful ; and I am well 
 aware that a sonnet will often be found excellent, 
 where the beginning, the middle, and the end are 
 distinctly marked, and also where it is distinctly sepa- 
 rated into tzvo parts, to which, as I before observed, 
 the strict Italian model, as they write it, is favorable. 
 Of this last construction of sonnets, Russell's upon 
 " Philoctetes " is a fine specimen ; the first eight lines 
 give the hardship of the case, the six last the consola- 
 tion, or \\\Q. per contra.' 
 
 What is italicized, in the above quotation, makes 
 
 (cr
 
 1 66 THE SONXF.T. 
 
 it appear quite evident that Wordsworth often ad- 
 visedly ran the subjeet-matter of the octave over into 
 the sestet, for the purpose stated ; ^ but whether 
 that purpose was always secured thereby, is ques- 
 tionable. At any rate, where the subject-matter of 
 the octave runs over into the sestet a foot or two, 
 the true sonnet effect is not sensibly marred, as can 
 be seen by some of the sonnets presented. 
 
 On the Lord General Fairfax at the Siege of Colchester. 
 
 (Milton.) 
 
 abbaabba cddcdc 
 
 Fairfax, whose name in arms throiijj;li Europe rings, 
 Killing eacii mouth with envy or witii praise, 
 Antl ail her jealous monarchs with amaze. 
 And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings ; 
 Thy firm unshaken virtue ■' ever brings 
 
 * See the sonnets beginning with the following lines: ' Festivals have 
 I seen that were nut names'; ' Toussaint, the most unhappy man of 
 men'; ' (Jreat men have l)ecn amung us; hands that iicnncd'; 'It 
 is not to he thought of that the Flood'; 'There is a hundage worse, 
 far worse, to bear'; 'Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room'; 
 'Fond words have oft been spukcn to thee. Sleep'; ' .\mong the 
 mountains were we nursed, loved .Stream'; 'Dear to the Loves, and 
 to the Graces vowed.' In the following, the subject-matter ends 
 within the eighth verse: ' Is it a reed that's shaken by the wind'; 
 'Degenerate Douglas I nh, the unworthy Lord'; 'Six thousand vet- 
 erans practised in war's game'; ' Clarkson ! it was an obstinate hill 
 to climb.' There are numerous others of this kind. In the sonnet, 
 l)eginning ' I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret,' the 
 (jctavc suliject-matter extends through the ninth verse, and yet the 
 true sonnet effect is not entirely niarred, though objection may be 
 made to including the ninth verse in another rhyme-scheme. 
 
 ' Virtue : valor, and there is also implied in the word Fair- 
 fax's purity of life. Milton pronounced a eulogy u|)on I'airfax, in 
 *ii» ' Second Defence u( Uie I'cunlc of llngUnd ' •. ' Nor would it be
 
 THE SONNET. 1 67 
 
 Victory home, though new rebellions raise 
 Their Hydra heads, and the false North 1 displays 
 Her broken league to imp their serpent-wings. 
 
 yet a nobler task awaits thy hand 
 
 (For what can war but endless war still breed?) 
 Till truth and right from violence be freed, 
 And public faith cleared from the shameful brand 
 Of public fraud. In vain doth valour bleed. 
 While avarice and rapine share the land. 
 
 To Catherine Wordsworth. (Wordsworth.) 
 abbaacc a dedede 
 
 Surprised by joy — impatient as the Wind 
 
 1 turned to share the transport — Oh! with whom 
 But thee, deep buried in the silent Tomb, 
 
 That spot which no vicissitude can find ? 
 
 right to pass over the name of Fairfax, who united the utmost forti- 
 tude with the utmost courage; and the spotless innocence of whuse 
 life seemed to point him out as the peculiar favorite of Heaven. 
 Justly, indeed, may you be excited to receive this wreath of praise; 
 though you have retired as much as possible from the world, and 
 seek those shades of privacy which were the dehght of Scipio. Nor 
 was it only the enemy whom you subdued, but you have triumphed 
 over that flame of ambition and that lust of glory which are wont to 
 make the best and the greatest of men their slaves. The purity of 
 your virtues and the splendor of your actions consecrate those sweets 
 of ease which you enjoy, and which constitute the wished-for haven 
 of the toils of man. . . . But whether it were your health, which I prin- 
 cipally believe, or any other motive which caused you to retire, of 
 this I am convinced, that nothing could have induced you to relinquish 
 the service of your country, if you had not known that in your suc- 
 cessor liberty would meet with a protector, and England with a stay 
 to its safety, and a pillar to its glory' (Translation by Robert Fellowes). 
 1 And the false North : the English Parliament affected to regard 
 the entrance of Hamilton's army into England in support of the Royal 
 cause as a breach of the Solemn League and Covenant between the 
 two nations. Displays, etc. : it would seem as if in poetic vision he 
 behcKl the North spreading out a copy of the Covenant she had broken,
 
 1 68 THE SONNET. 
 
 Love, faithful love recalled thee to my mind — 
 
 But how could I forget thee? — through what power, 
 
 Even for the least division of an hour. 
 
 Have I been so beguiled as to be blind 
 
 To my most grievous loss? — That thought's return 
 
 Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore. 
 
 Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn. 
 
 Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more ; 
 
 Tiiat neither present time, nor years unborn 
 
 Could to my sight tiiat heavenly face restore. 
 
 Tomlinson says of this sonnet that it ' has a strong 
 Petrarchan flavour. Although loose in structure, 
 it reads like a good, but free, translation of one of 
 the early sonnets in the Morte.^ By ' loose in struc- 
 ture,' he probably means that the subject-matter of 
 the octave runs over into the ninth verse. That of 
 the sestet begins with the fourth foot of the ninth 
 verse. This looseness of structure does not, however, 
 sensibly impair the true sonnet impression or effect. 
 The same may be said of the concluding sonnet of 
 the series on the River Duddon, entitled ' After- 
 thought,' in which the subject-matter of the octave 
 runs over three feet and a light syllable (3.rrt-|-.r) 
 into the ninth verse. Verily, this sonnet 'justifies 
 its own structural form.' Matthew Arnold, in his 
 Address as President of the Wordsworth Society, 
 1883, says: 'Milton was, of course, a far greater 
 artist than Wordsworth ; probably, also, a greater 
 force. Jkit the spiritual passion when, as in the 
 magnificent sonnet of farewell to the River Duddon, 
 
 to be cut up to imp the wings of the Hydra of rebellion. Imp is to 
 Rraft; an<l in falconry, to imp a hawk's wiiiR was to piece its broken 
 feathers (Kkichti.kv).
 
 THE SONNET. 1 69 
 
 for instance, he is at his highest, and " sees into the 
 life of things," cannot be matched from Milton. I 
 will not say it is beyond Milton, but he has never 
 shown it.' 
 
 The rhyme-scheme is abbaabba cddcdc. 
 
 I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, 
 
 As being past away. — Vain sympathies! 
 
 For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,i 
 
 I see what was, and is, and will abide ; 
 
 Still glides the Stream, and shall not cease to glide ; 
 
 The Form remains, the Function never dies ; 
 
 While we. the brave, the mighty, and the wise, ^ 
 
 We Men, who in our morn of youth defied \/ 1/ 
 
 The elements, must vanish ; — be it so! 
 
 Enough, if something from our hands have power 
 
 To live, and act, and serve the future hour ; 
 
 And if, as toward the silent tomb we go. 
 
 Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower. 
 
 We feel that we are greater than we know.'^ 
 
 To Mr. Lawrence? (Milton.) 
 abbaabba cdceed. 
 
 Lawrence,* of virtuous father virtuous son, 
 Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, 
 Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 
 
 1 Mr. A. J. George, in his 'Selections from Wordsworth,' p. 417, 
 says, ' It is not possible to ascertain from what point the Poet took 
 this view of the Duddon.' But ' backward as I cast my eyes ' evi- 
 dently means, as I look backward in time. 
 
 ' 'And feel that I am happier than I know.' — Paradise Lost, 
 
 viii. 282. 
 
 3 ' .V pleasing picture of the British Homer in his Horatian hour.' — 
 RiCHAKI) Garneft. 
 
 •• Lawrence : Henry Lawrence, son of the President of Cromwell's 
 
 Council.
 
 I70 THE SONNET. 
 
 Help waste a sullen day, what may be won ' 
 From the hard season gaining? Time will run" 
 On smoother, till Favonius * reinspire 
 The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
 The lily and rose that neither sowed nor spun. 
 What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice. 
 Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
 To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice 
 Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 
 He who of those delights can judge, and spare * 
 To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 
 
 The octave material of the following sonnet by 
 Milton runs over very effectively into the ninth 
 verse, ^xa ('And Worcester's laureate wreath'). 
 The sestet rhyme-scheme [cddccc], including two 
 sets of adjacent rhymes, would, in most cases, espe- 
 cially if the rhymes were on broad vowels, be objec- 
 tionable, as checking too much the equable subsi- 
 dence which the sestet should generally have ; but 
 the first, ' victories,' ' arise,' is hardly felt as a rhyme, 
 and the strong rhyme-emphasis upon * maw,' brings 
 out as a final motived effect the holy indignation of 
 the poet. The sonnet is signally Miltonic in its 
 moral loftiness. 
 
 * Wh-it may be, etc. : ^aiiun^; whatever may be won from the hard 
 season. 
 
 * Time, in this way, will run on smoother for us, etc. 
 
 ' Favonius: the Zephyr, or VVcsl-wiml (a favendo vcl fovcmlo'). 
 
 * Sparc: refrain. Keij;htley mistakes the iiicaning, in his note; he 
 
 supplies ' lime ' after ' spare '; but the meaning is, he who can judge of 
 
 those delights, and, at the same time, can refrain from interposing them 
 
 oft in his occupations, is not unwise. 
 
 Uciiii; iiiiiv'd, he will nol >parc to (iril the gcxlf. 
 
 — Coriotanui, i. i. 260.
 
 THE SONNET. 171 
 
 To the Lord General Cronnvell, May, 16^2, on the pro- 
 posals of certain ministers at the committee for propaga- 
 tion of the Gospel. 
 
 Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
 Not of war only, but detractions rude, 
 Guided by faitli and matchless fortitude. 
 
 To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, 
 
 And on the neck of crownM Fortune proud 
 
 Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued. 
 While Darwen 1 stream, with blood of Scots imbrued. 
 
 And Dunbar field,'- resounds thy praises loud. 
 
 And Worcester"'s laureate wreath : yet much remains 
 To conquer still ; Peace hath her victories 
 No less renowned than War : new foes arise. 
 
 Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. 
 Help us to save free conscience from the paw 
 Of hireling wolves,*^ whose Gospel is their maw. 
 
 'The effectiveness of Milton's sonnets,' says Mark 
 Pattison, * is chiefly due to the real nature of the 
 character, person, or incident of which each is the 
 delineation. Each person, thing, or fact, is a mo- 
 ment in Milton's life, on which he was stirred ; some- 
 times in the soul's depths, sometimes on the surface 
 of feeling, but always truly moved. He found the 
 sonnet enslaved to a single theme, that of unsuccess- 
 
 * Darwen stream : where Cromwell defeated an army of Scottish 
 royalists under the Duke of Hamilton, in August, 1648. See ' Crom- 
 well's Letters and Speeches,' edited by Carlyle, Letter 64. 
 
 2 Cromwell gained a great victory over the Scottish army at Dunbar, 
 September 3, 1650, and a decisive victory over the royal army, at Wor- 
 cester, September 3, 1651. 'After a long flow of perspicuous and 
 nervous language, the unexpected pause at " Worcester's laureate 
 wreath," is very emphatical and has a striking eft'ect.' — Thomas 
 Warton. 
 
 " Hireling wolves: the Presljyterian clergy is here meant.
 
 172 THE SONXET. 
 
 fill love, mostly a simulated passion. He emancipated 
 it, and as Landor says, " gave the notes to glory." And 
 what is here felt powerfully, is expressed directly and 
 simply. ... It is a man who is speaking to us, not 
 an artist attitudinizing to please us.' 
 
 And Lord Macaulay, in his ' Essay on Milton,' says 
 of the sonnets : ' Traces, indeed, of the peculiar char- 
 acter of Milton, may be found in all his works ; but 
 it is most strongly displayed in the sonnets. Those 
 remarkable poems have been undervalued by critics 
 who have not understood their nature. They have 
 no epigrammatic point. There is none of the ingenu- 
 ity of Filicaja ^ in the thought, none of thp hard and 
 brilliant enamel of Petrarch in the style. They are 
 simple but majestic records of the feelings of the 
 poet, as little tricked out for the public eye as his 
 diary would have been. A victory, an expected 
 attack upon the City, a momentary fit of depression 
 or exultation, a jest thrown out against one of his 
 books, a dream which for a short time restored to 
 him that beautiful face over which the grave had 
 closed forever, led him to musings which, without 
 effort, shaped themselves into verse. The unity of 
 sentiment and severity of style which characterize 
 these little pieces, remind us of the Greek Anthology, 
 or perhaps still more of the Collects of the ICnglish 
 Liturgy. The noble poem on the massacres of Pied- 
 mont is strictly a collect in verse.' 
 
 ' An Italian lyric poet, born in Florence in 1642, and died there in 
 1707. Mataulay, in his' Review of the Life and Writings of Adilison,' 
 speaks of him as ' a poet with wliuin Huileau could nut sustain a compari- 
 son,' and as ' the greatest lyric poet of modern time*.'
 
 THE SONNET. 1/3 
 
 Byron's fine sonnet on Chillon has three rhymes in 
 the octave, abbaacca, a new rhyme being introduced 
 into the second quatrain instead of the regular b 
 rhyme of the first. The rhymes of the sestet are 
 alternate, dcdcde. There are but few sonnets in the 
 literature which realize more distinctly the sonnet 
 idea, or impart a fuller artistic satisfaction : 
 
 Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind.' 
 
 Brightest in dungeons. Liberty! thou art, 
 
 For there thy habitation is the heart — 
 The heart which love of thee alone can bind ; 
 And when thy sons to fetters are consigned — 
 
 To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom. 
 
 Their country conquers with their martyrdom, 
 And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. 
 Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, 
 
 And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, 
 Until his very steps have left a trace 
 
 Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod, 
 By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface! 
 
 For they appeal from tyranny to God. 
 
 The rhyme-scheme of the octave of the following 
 sonnet by Wordsworth is the same as that of the 
 preceding sonnet by Byron, abbaacca. The rhyme- 
 scheme of the sestet is quite abnormal, ddcffc. 
 
 The rhyme ce is the same as the aa rhyme in the 
 octave. This identity may have been accidental ; or 
 the poet may have advisedly carried the aa rhyme 
 into the sestet for a special artistic effect. It seems 
 that he did. 
 
 The last verse of the octave and the last verse of 
 the sestet both end with ' heard by thee ' ; and the 
 repetition is felt to be artistic. In the latter, the
 
 174 '^'^^ SONNET. 
 
 word * neither " should be emphasized, and the voice 
 should drift down on the remainder of the verse. 
 
 As has been said, an adjacent rhyme in the sestet, 
 whether internal, or at the close, has not, generally, a 
 good effect, as its emphasis presents a check to the 
 quiet subsidence of the thouj^ht in the sestet. In the 
 sonnet before us the first two verses of the sestet 
 rhyme together, and the enijihasis which the rhyme 
 imparts to the word ' left,' which really expresses the 
 pivotal idea of the sonnet, is felt to be artistic, as is 
 also the new double-rhyme in the second quatrain, 
 ' striven,' ' driven.' 
 
 The structure of the sonnet is of the very highest 
 artistic merit. 
 
 Thought of a Briton on the subjugation of Sivitzer/and. 
 
 Two Voices are there ; one is of the sea. 
 
 One of the mountains ; each a mighty Voice : 
 
 In both from age to age thou didst rejoice, 
 
 They were tliy chosen music. Liberty! 
 
 There came a Tyrant,' and with holy glee 
 
 Thou fouglil'st against him ; but hast vainly striven: 
 
 Thou from thy Ali)ine holds ^ length art driven. 
 
 Where not a torrent murmurs, heard by thee. 
 
 Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft : 
 
 Then cleave, Oh, cleave to that which still is left ; 
 
 For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be 
 
 That Mountain Hoods should thunder as before. 
 
 And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore. 
 
 And neither awful Voice be heard by thee! 
 
 Mark Patti.son, after defining what is regarded as 
 the most perfect form of the sonnet, says: ' How far 
 
 ' A Tyrant : Napulcon Bunapartc, who invaded .Switzerland in 1802.
 
 THE SONNET. 1 75 
 
 any given specimen may deviate from type without 
 ceasing to be a sonnet, is as impossible to decide as 
 it is in botany to draw the line between a variety and 
 a distinct species. Perhaps we may say that success 
 is the best test, and that a brilliant example justifies 
 its own structural form. Or we may look for legis- 
 lative sanction in consent, and demand compliance 
 with those rules which the majority of poets agree to 
 respect. " The mighty masters are a law unto them- 
 selves, and the validity of their legislation will be 
 attested and held against all comers by the splendour 
 of an unchallengeable success." ' 
 
 Of this the above sonnet is a signal illustration. 
 The question in regard to any irregular sonnet 
 should be, does it realize successfully the idea and 
 the peculiar artistic effect of the normal type of this 
 poetic form t 
 
 Mrs. Browning's ' Sonnets from the Portuguese' 
 
 Of Mrs. Browning's forty-four exquisite ' Sonnets 
 from the Portuguese,' but three, namely, the first, 
 fourth, and thirteenth, can be said to realize, with 
 any distinctness, the idea and the peculiar artistic 
 effect of the sonnet proper. Though they all ex- 
 hibit the rhyme-scheme of the Italian type, abba abba 
 cdcdcd, they do not exhibit, even in the loosest form, 
 the required organic divisions — they are not ' built 
 up of parts or quatrains, the Basi, or bases, of the 
 structure ; and of tercets, or Volte, turnings or roads 
 to which the basi point.' In their rhyme-schemes, 
 they have taken on the exterior semblance of what
 
 1/6 THE SONNET. 
 
 orf^anically they are not. They are the most beau- 
 tiful love-poems in the lang^uage, but they cannot 
 be classed as sonnets. The three following, the 
 twenty-eighth, the thirty-eighth, and the forty- 
 second, of the series, are examples, extreme, per- 
 haps, of their general character, with the three 
 exceptions named. 
 
 My letters all dead paper. . . . mute and white ! — x. 
 
 And yet they seem aUve and quivering i'- 
 
 Against my tremulous hands which loose the string ^ 
 
 And let them drop down on my knee to-night. "*■ 
 
 This said, ... He wished to have me in his sight '^ 
 
 Once, as a friend : this fixed a day in spring V 
 
 To come and touch my hand ... a simple thing, ir- 
 
 Yet I wept for it ! — this. . . . the paper's light, ... 
 Said, Dmr, / love thee: and 1 .sank and quailed 
 As if God's future thundered on my i)ast : 
 This said I am iliinc — and so its ink has paled i_ 
 
 With lying at my heart that beat too fast : C- 
 
 And this . . . O love, thy words have ill availed, 
 If, what this said, I dared repeat at last ! 
 
 First time he ki.ssed me. he but only ki.s.sed <> 
 
 The fingers of this hand wherewith 1 write, ' 
 
 And ever since it grew more clean and white, ... 
 
 Slow to world-greetings . . . quick with its ' Oh. list,' 
 
 When the angels sjjcak. A ring of amethyst 
 
 I could not wear here plainer to my sight, ' 
 
 Than that first kiss. The second passed in height 
 
 The first, and sought the forehead, and half mi.sscd. 
 
 Half falling on tiie hair. O beyond meed! 
 
 Tliat wa.s the chrism of love which love's own crown, 
 
 With sanctifying sweetness, did precede. 
 
 The third upon my lips wa.s folded down 
 
 In perfect purple state ! since when, indeed, 
 
 I have jjcen jiroud and said, * My Love, my own.'
 
 THE SONNET. 1 77 
 
 How do I love thee ? let me count the ways. 
 
 I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
 
 My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
 
 For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace. 
 
 I love thee to the level of everyday's 
 
 Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 
 
 I love thee freely, as men strive for Right ; 
 
 I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise ; 
 
 I love thee with the passion put to use 
 
 In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith ; 
 
 I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
 
 With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath, 
 
 Smiles, tears, of all my life ! — and, if God choose, 
 
 I shall but love thee better after death. 
 
 As there is no shift in the thought, in these compo- 
 sitions, after the eighth verse, they do not call for 
 two distinct sets of rhyme-schemes, certainly not the 
 rhyme-schemes of the sonnet. They are felt to be 
 purely arbitrary. The three quatrains and a couplet 
 of the Shakespearian sonnet would have suited better 
 the general character of the ' Sonnets from the Portu- 
 guese.' They are, in fact, fourteen-verse stanzas, in 
 a continuous treatment of the same theme — 'waves 
 of a prolonged melody.' 
 
 The three above-named sonnets, the first, fourth, 
 and thirteenth, of the series, which meet the condi- 
 tions of the sonnet proper, are the following. Of the 
 first, the subject-matter of the octave runs over into 
 the ninth verse, ending with 'A shadow across me.' 
 The fourth and the thirteenth are strictly regular, so 
 strictly, that not only the octaves and sestets are dis- 
 tinct in function, but, what is not usual in English 
 sonnets, their subdivisions, the quatrains and tercets,
 
 1/8 THE SONNET. 
 
 are likewise so. The tercets of the thirteenth are, 
 however, united in j^rammatical construction, but 
 there is a shift in the thought. 
 
 I thought once how Theocritu.s had .sung 
 
 Of the sweet years, the dear and wisheil-for years, 
 
 Who each one in a gracious liand appears 
 
 To bear a gift for mortals, old or young : 
 
 And, as I mu.sed it in his antique tongue. 
 
 I saw in gradual vision through my tears. 
 
 The sweet, sad years, the melanclioly years. 
 
 Those of my own life, who by turns had tlung 
 
 A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware. 
 
 So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move 
 
 Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair: 
 
 And a voice said in mastery while 1 strove. 
 
 * Guess now who holds thee?' — * Death ! " I .said. HiU there. 
 
 The silver answer rang . . . ' Not Deatli. hut Love.' 
 
 Thou hast thy calling to .some palace floor, 
 
 Most gracious singer of high poems ! where 
 
 The dancers will break footing from the care 
 
 Of w.itching uj) thy jiregnant lips for more. 
 
 And dost thou lift tiiis iiouse's hitch too poor 
 
 For hand of thine? and canst thou think and bear 
 
 To let thy music drop here unaware 
 
 In folds of golden fulness at my door ? 
 
 Look up and see the casement broken in. 
 
 The bats and owlets builders in the roof! 
 
 My cricket chirps against thy mandolin. 
 
 Hush I call no echo up in further proof 
 
 Of desolation I there's a voice within 
 
 That weeps . . . as thou nuist sintj . . . alone, aloof. 
 
 And wilt thou iiave me l;ushion into si)eecli 
 The love I bear thee, finding words enough. 
 And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, 
 Uctwcen our faces to cast light on each ? —
 
 THE SONNET. 1 79 
 
 I drop it at thy feet. I cannot teach 
 
 My hand to hold my spirit so far off 
 
 From myself . . . me . . . that I should bring thee proof 
 
 In words, of love hid in me out of reach. 
 
 Nay, let the silence of my womanhood 
 
 Commend my woman-love to thy belief, — 
 
 Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, 
 
 And rend the garment of my life in brief, 
 
 By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude. 
 
 Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief. 
 
 Shakespeare' s Sonnets. 
 
 The so-called sonnets of Shakespeare, which con- 
 sist of three quatrains {each with its distinct set of 
 alternate rhymes) and a couplet, are a law to them- 
 selves, and are entirely exempt from the legislation 
 of the sonnet proper. The rhyme-scheme is, abab 
 cdcd efef gg. The thought developed in the three 
 quatrains leads up to its consummation, or climax, or 
 application of some kind in the couplet, the conclud- 
 ing verse receiving the strongest rhyme-emphasis, 
 and clinching the whole. There is often a shifting 
 of the thought in the third stanza, the couplet sum- 
 ming up all. The artistic effect is always distinct 
 and satisfying — far more so than is that of loosely 
 constructed compositions which have taken on the 
 outward semblance of the sonnet proper, without 
 having its organic character. Such sonnets, when 
 turned to after reading a number of Shakespeare's, 
 especially impress us as misbegotten. 
 
 XVITI. 
 
 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
 Thou art more lovely and more temperate :
 
 l8o THE SONNET. 
 
 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
 And summer's lease hath all too short a date : 
 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
 And often is his gold complexion dimmed ; 
 And every fair from fair sometimes declines, 
 By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed ; 
 But thy eternal summer shall not fade. 
 Nor lose ])ossession of that fair thou owest.' 
 Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade. 
 When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st ; 
 So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see. 
 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 
 1 ail alone bcweep my outcast state. 
 And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries. 
 And look upon myself, and curse my fate. 
 Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, 
 Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, 
 Desiring this man's art, and tliat man's scojje, 
 Willi what I most enjoy contented Iciust ; 
 Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, 
 Majjly I think on thee, and then my state. 
 Like to the lark at break of day .arising 
 From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate: 
 For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings 
 That then I .scorn to change my state with kings. 
 
 x.\x. 
 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
 I .summon up remembrance of things past. 
 I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought. 
 And with old woes new wail mv dear time's waste: 
 Then tan 1 drown an eye, unused to flow. 
 For |)recious friends hid in death's dateless'^ night, 
 
 ' That fair thou nwcsl : tliat l.. miv i!i,,ii |.i>sscsscsl. 
 ' Date-lets : tnJItit,
 
 THE SONNET. l8l 
 
 And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, 
 And moan the expense ^ of many a vanished sight : 
 Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, 
 And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er - 
 The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan. 
 Which I new pay as if not paid before. 
 
 But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, 
 
 All losses are restored and sorrows end. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
 Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign e3-e. 
 Kissing with golden face the meadows green. 
 Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy ; 
 Anon permit the basest clouds to ride 
 With ugly rack on his celestial face. 
 And from the forlorn world his visage hide, 
 Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : 
 Even so my sun one early morn did shine. 
 With all-triumphant splendour on my brow ; 
 But, out, alack! he was but one hour mine. 
 The region cloud hath masked him from me now. 
 
 Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth ; 
 
 Suns of the world may stain ^ when heaven's sun 
 staineth. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 
 Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rime ; 
 But you shall shine more bright in these contents 
 Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time. 
 
 1 Moan the expense : Schmidt explains expense as loss, but does not 
 ' moan the expense ' mean pay my account of moans for ? The words 
 are explained by what follows : 
 
 Tell o'er 
 The sad account of fore- he moaned moan 
 Which T new pay as if not paid before. — DowDEN. 
 
 ^ Tell o'er : count over. * Stain : become dim.
 
 I 82 THE SOXXET. 
 
 When wasteful war shall statues overturn, 
 
 And broils root out the work of masonry. 
 
 Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall bum 
 
 The living record of your memory. 
 
 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity 
 
 Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room 
 
 Even in the eyes of all posterity 
 
 That wear this world out to the ending doom. 
 So. till the judgment that yourself arise.' 
 You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. 
 
 Spenser's Amoretti. 
 
 The Amoretti of Spenser consist, as do the sonnets 
 of Shakespeare, of three quatrains and a cpui)let, but 
 the quatrains arc interlaced by the rhyme-scheme, it 
 being abab bcbc cdcd cc. That is, the last rhyme of the 
 first stanza is continued in the first and third verses 
 of the second ; and the last rhyme of the second 
 stanza is continued in the first and third verses of 
 the third. This reiteration of rhymes contributes to 
 the ardency of the expression ; but it is often felt to 
 be too much of a good thing, especially when the 
 rhymes arc double or female rhymes. 
 
 Happy, ye leaves! when as tho.se lilly hands, 
 Which hold my life in their dead-doing might. 
 Sliall handle you, and iiold in loves soft bands. 
 Lyke captives trembling at the victors sight. 
 And happy lines! on which, with starry liglit. 
 Those lamjiing'^ eyes will deigne sometimes to look, 
 And reade the sorrows of my dying spright. 
 Written with te.ires in harts clo.se-blecding book. 
 
 ' Till the judgment that yourself arise : till the decree of the judg- 
 ment day that you arise from the dca<l. — Dhwdkn. 
 
 '^ lumping: ikining ; — 'lamping sky' i^lutent Quetne, 3. j. i).
 
 THE SONNET. 1 83 
 
 And happy rymes ! bathed in the sacred brooke 
 Of Helicon, whence she derived is ; 
 When ye behold that Angels blessed looke, 
 My soules long-lacked foode, my heavens blis ; 
 
 Leaves, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone, 
 Whom if ye please, I care for other none! 
 
 When the Amoretti are read continuously, the 
 reader wearies of the ' volee de r^sonnance ' ; espe- 
 cially when the double or female rhymes come in, as 
 in the following : 
 
 Sweet Smile! the daughter of the Queene of Love, 
 
 Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art, 
 
 With which she wonts to temper angry Jove, 
 
 When all the gods he threats with thundering dart : 
 
 Sweet is thy vertue, as thy selfe sweet art. 
 
 For, when on me thou shinedst late in sadnesse, 
 
 A melting pleasance ran through every part, 
 
 And me revived with hart-robbing gladnesse. 
 
 Whylest rapt with joy resembling heavenly madness, 
 
 My soule was ravisht quite as in a traunce ; 
 
 And feeling thence, no more her son'owes sadnesse. 
 
 Fed on the fulnesse of that chearefull glaunce. 
 
 More sweet than Nectar, or Ambrosiail meat, 
 Seemd every bit which thenceforth I did eat. 
 
 Though the sonnet was introduced into English 
 literature by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey,^ it was 
 not until Milton used it, a hundred years later and 
 more, that the normal Italian type was followed with 
 any degree of strictness. ' Milton's distinction in the 
 history of the sonnet,' says Mark Pattison, ' is that, 
 not overawed by the great name of Shakespeare, he 
 emancipated this form of poem from the two vices 
 
 * Born about 151 7; beheaded January 21, 1547.
 
 184 THE SONNET. 
 
 which depraved the Klizabethan sonnet — from the 
 vice of misplaced wit in substance, and of misplaced 
 rime in form. He recognized that the sonnet belonged 
 to the poetry of feeling, and not to the poetry of 
 ingenuity. And he saw that the perfection of metri- 
 cal construction was not reached by tacking together 
 three four-line verses rounded by a couplet at the 
 end.' 
 
 Pattison is hardly just here. The sonnets of 
 Shakespeare, and other Elizabethan .sonnets, should 
 be judged absolutely, and not relatively to the normal 
 type of the Italian sonnet. The fact that they are 
 fourteen-verse compositions does not necessarily ren- 
 der them amenable to the legislation of the Italian 
 sonnet. The question should be, have they their own 
 artistic effect .'' Shakespeare's sonnets certainly have, 
 and, in general, a most satisfying artistic effect. And 
 so have a large number of sonnets by Spenser and 
 other poets of the time. 
 
 Pattison continues: 'Milton had put his poetical 
 genius to school to the Italians, Dante, Petrarch, and 
 the rest. What of art Milton could adopt from them, 
 he had appropriated. The tradition of the sonnet, 
 coming from what had not ceased to be regarded as 
 the home of learning, ajipealed to his classical feel- 
 ing. His exquisite car for rhythm dictated to him a 
 recurrence to the Italian type in the arrangement of 
 the rimes. We may be sure that Milton's ungrudg- 
 ing submi.ssion to the rules of the sonnet was not 
 deference to authority. To that arch-rebel, rule and 
 law were as a thread of tow, if they could not justify 
 themselves to reason. Not so much the Italian tradi-
 
 THE SONNET. 1 85 
 
 tion, as his own sense of fitness, made Milton recur 
 to the Italian type from which the sonnet had devi- 
 ated since its first introduction by Surrey.' 
 
 These remarks are quite acceptable. But they 
 are, after all, merely equivalent to saying that Milton 
 saw, in the constitution of the normal type of the 
 Italian sonnet, a form of poetic art which suited his 
 purpose, which form he felt at liberty to modify 
 somewhat, \vhile, at the same time he secured, more 
 or less, its peculiar artistic effect. Whatever con- 
 demnation he might have pronounced upon the Eliza- 
 bethan sonnet, as written by Shakespeare, Spenser, 
 Sidney, Daniel, and others, he certainly was not the 
 man to condemn it by reason of its deviations from 
 the Italian type. He would have condemned it, if at 
 all, on absolute principles, regarding it as an inde- 
 pendent form of poetic art.
 
 XI. 
 GENERAL REMARKS (3N BLANK VERSE. 
 
 THK crowning glory of English poetical and 
 dramatic language-shaping is blank verse, in 
 its most vital, organic forms — the forms developed 
 in the Elizabethan era, and the epic form as j)roduced 
 by the ' mighty-mouthed inventor of harmonies,' the 
 ' God-gifted organ-voice of England,' who could not, 
 perhaps, with all his inborn power, have attained to 
 such consummate and never-to-be-equalled excellence, 
 had he not profited by the dramatic blank verse of 
 Shakespeare and his contemporaries. 
 
 And there is no mode of language-shaping which 
 e.xhibits such a variety of degrees of merit and of 
 demerit. The worst and the best hardly admit of 
 comparison, any more than things which have noth- 
 ing in common. The only respect in which they 
 may be said to agree is, that the metrical theme is 
 $X(i. The highest merits of blank ver.se can hardly 
 be said to have any existence in the earliest attempts 
 at this literary form, in which the verse has altogether 
 its own way, so to si)eak, and the thought is forced 
 to submit to that way. . Its movement had been 
 derived from rhyming verse, and could not readily be 
 changed. Much, indeed, of the earlier blank verse, 
 at its best, may be characterized as unrhymed coup- 
 i86
 
 GENERAL REMARKS ON BLANK VERSE. 1 8/ 
 
 let-verse ; at its worst, it is but a succession of verses, 
 each being, syntactically, an unconnected unit in the 
 series. 
 
 But such an imperfect medium of expression was 
 not at all suitable for the great dramatic geniuses 
 who were soon to appear, and by one of the earliest 
 of whom, fortunately, the great capabilities of this 
 medium of expression were to be recognized, and, 
 to some degree, realized. The relations of the verse 
 and the thought to be conveyed by it had to undergo 
 an entire change. The thought was to have its own 
 way, determine its own orbit, and the verse was, in 
 its turn, to submit to that way. 
 
 The stages of the change can be quite distinctly 
 traced, especially in Shakespeare. He began to 
 write when the change had decidedly set in. The 
 verse had learned to come into some submission to 
 the dramatic thought which it had to convey. This 
 submission Christopher Marlowe had taught it to 
 some extent — to a very considerable extent — when 
 Shakespeare took it in hand. And such was the 
 plastic power of Shakespeare's thought that, in a few 
 years, a complete submission was brought about, as 
 is shown in his later plays, wherein the verse is as 
 fully obedient to the thought as, before, the thought 
 was to the verse. But for this change in their re- 
 lations to each other, the English drama could not 
 have been what it became, notwithstanding that there 
 was more dramatic genius in England, at the time, 
 than we have any record of in any previous period of 
 human history. 
 
 The chances of the drama, too, would have been
 
 l8S GENERAL REMARKS ON BLANK VERSE. 
 
 Still less it rhymed pentameter verse had become an 
 established form. This form asserted itself, for a 
 time, in the dreary Restoration Drama — in the 
 ' heroic ' plays of Uryden and others, which are ' full 
 of sound and fury, sij^nifying nothing.' The sound 
 and fury took the place of honest vital thought and 
 genuine unaffected feeling. 
 
 Shakespeare was evidently fond of rhyme, in the 
 earlier period of his career ; but as his dramatic 
 identification advanced, rhyme had to give way, and 
 in his latest plays there is very little of it. Blank 
 verse became the only fitting organ for his dramatic 
 genius in its most advanced development. 
 
 In the earliest blank verse in the language, that of 
 Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey's translation of the 
 second and fourth books of Virgil's ' /Uneid,' done 
 about 1540, and first published in 1557, the orbit of 
 the thought is generally determined by the metre. 
 There is but little itijanilyoncnt ; the sense is not, 
 in Milton's words, 'variously drawn out from one 
 verse into another.' One verse follows another with 
 a dull uniformity. The car dwells on the termination 
 of the ver.se ; the mind hovers within the limits of one 
 verse, or of a couplet, at a time. 
 
 Nicholas Grimoald's blank verse,' first published in 
 ' Tottell's Miscellany,' 1557, the .same year in which 
 Surrey's translations from Virgil were published, is 
 superior to Surrey's. There is more sjiontaneity, 
 more t^o, in it ; and it does not show so much metre 
 
 ' 'I"hat t>f * The Death of Zoroas, an I'lRyptian astrunomcr, who was 
 killcl in Alexander's first battle with the Persians,' and other pieces 
 Sec Walton's ' History of Knj^liiih I'oetry,'
 
 GENERAL REMARKS ON BLANK VERSE. 1 89 
 
 consciousness as is always present in Surrey's. War- 
 ton remarks, in his * History of English Poetry,' ' To 
 the style of blank verse exhibited in Surrey, he added 
 new strength, elegance, and modulation. In the 
 disposition and conduct of his cadencies, he often 
 approaches to the legitimate structure of the improved 
 blank verse.' 
 
 The first tragedy in blank verse was * Gorboduc ' 
 (or, * Ferrex and Porrex '), the joint production of 
 Thomas Norton and Thomas Sackville. It was 
 acted before Queen Elizabeth, at Whitehall, in 1561. 
 Its blank verse, like that of Surrey, exhibits only 
 occasional shiftings of the regular accent, and extra 
 unaccented syllables; here and there an enjambei}ient 
 and a broken verse; no excursions of the thought 
 from the metre ; and though there are passages of 
 connected lines, each line is generally felt as a distinct 
 unit in the series. 
 
 It may be said that Marlowe did more in the way 
 of indicating the dramatic capabilities of blank verse, 
 by freeing it from some of the fetters in which it had 
 been bound, than of realizing those capabilities on 
 the higher planes of expression to which Shakespeare 
 carried them. He certainly did not do all that John 
 Addington Symonds credits him with, in his ' Shake- 
 speare's Predecessors in the English Drama.' 
 
 There is not, generally, in his plays, that sanity of 
 mind and heart, that well-balanced and well-toned 
 thought and genuine passion, to have brought out 
 the higher capabilities of the verse. 
 
 The student could not be referred to any passage 
 in his plays, which would better serve, perhaps, to
 
 1 90 GENERAL REMARKS ON BLANK VERSE. 
 
 represent his blank verse in its best estate, than the 
 first scene of the fifth act of his ' Edward the Second,' 
 in which the king, after his deposition, reluctantly 
 gives up his crown to the Bishop of Winchester and 
 the Earl of Leicester. The scene in Shakespeare's 
 ' Richard the Second,' in which Richard is represented 
 under similar circumstances (4. i. 162-318), should 
 ])e read in connection with this, for the purpose of 
 comparing Shakespeare's earlier blank verse with 
 Marlowe's best. The scene in ' Edward the Second,' 
 in which the king is put to death, the fifth of the 
 fifth act, also contains some of the best verse which 
 Marlowe wrote. 
 
 The blank verse of ' Tamburlaine ' is more high- 
 sounding, indeed, than that of ' Edward the Second ' ; 
 but it is in ' Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein,' — pompous 
 and passionless. Thought and passion must be per- 
 fectly honest, in order to be subtly plastic. Tambur- 
 laine and the Jew of Malta are monsters, in their 
 several ways ; and much of what they are made to 
 say, ' o'ersteps the modesty of nature.' ' 
 
 The work begun by Marlowe, of bringing blank 
 verse into a conformity with the demands of dramatic 
 
 ' It should be remembered that the exaggeration of high-sounding 
 language of which Marlowe has been accused was, in i>art at least, 
 intentional, and was meant to supply some of the resonance that the 
 ear would miss in the absence of rhyme. This is plainly stated in the 
 prologue to • Tamburlaine,' Part i. : 
 
 From jiKt{i"K veini of rhymiiiB muther wiu, 
 Anil inch conceit at clownaK' kccpi in pay, 
 We'll lead you to the italely tent of war, 
 Where you nhall hear the Scythian 'ranihurlaine, 
 Threatening the world with hi|{h-a<tloundinK lermn. 
 
 0»lK>rnc William Tancock's edition of Marlowe's ' Edward the 
 Second.' Introd., p. vi.
 
 GENERAL REMARKS ON BLANK VERSE. 191 
 
 thought, was carried on and perfected by Shake- 
 speare ; and the evolution of this wonderful organ of 
 dramatic expression can be traced in his plays, from 
 a more or less monotonous alternation of unaccented 
 and accented syllables, the thought metre-bound or 
 couplet-bound, up to an operation of the perfect law 
 of liberty ; the flexibility and the continuity of the 
 thought, and the vivacity and the fluctuations of the 
 feelings resulting in all manner of variations upon 
 the theme-forms, — shiftings of the regular rhythmical 
 accent, extra end-syllables, constant breaks in the 
 verse, weak endings of verses, upon which the voice 
 cannot press, but must move on without a pause, an 
 interweaving of verses and, as a consequence, a 
 sinking of the metre, to a greater or less extent, 
 accelerations and retardations of movement, which 
 way the thought and feeling sway it, etc., etc. 
 
 See the following passages : Love's Labor's Lost, 
 
 2. I. 13-34; Two Gentlemen of Verona, 2. 7. 1-38; 
 Midsummer Night's Dream, 4. i. 108-124; Richard 
 the Third, i. i. 1-41 ; Romeo and Juliet, 2. 2. 1-190; 
 
 3. 2. 1-31 ; 4. I. 77-88; 4. 3. 36-58 ; King John, 3. 
 3. 19-55; I Henry IV., i. 3. 1-302; 4. i. 97-110; 
 Julius Caesar, 3. i. 254-275; 3. 2. 78-234; Troilus 
 and Cressida, i. 3. 75-137; Hamlet, i. 2. 129-159; 
 Othello, I. 3. 158-168; 2. 3. 169-178; 3. 3. 347- 
 357; 451-460; 3.4. 55-75; 4. 2. 47-64; 5- 2. 338- 
 356; King Lear, i. 4. 318-332; 2. 4. 89-120; 4. 6. 
 11-24; Macbeth, i. 5. 16-59; 4- i- 48-61; Antony 
 and Cleopatra, 4. 14. 1-54; 5. 2. 76-92; Coriolanus, 
 3. 3. 120-135; Cymbcline, 3. 2. 50-70; Winter's 
 Tale, I. 2. 1-465; 3. 2. 23-46; 176-203; 4. 4. 112-
 
 192 GENERAL REMARKS ON BLANK VERSE. 
 
 129; Tempest, i. 2. 1-501; 5. i. 33-57. The num- 
 bering of the Hnes is that of the Globe Shakespeare. 
 Dramatic blank verse has never, perhaps, attained 
 to more organic forms than are exhibited by the 
 second scene of the first act of 'The Winter's Tale,' 
 and the second scene of the first act of ' The Tempest.' 
 These two scenes every student of Shakespeare should 
 read again and again ; should memorize, indeed, as 
 the perfection, humanly speaking, of dramatic lan- 
 guage-shaping.
 
 T 
 
 XII. 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 HE two grand features of Milton's blank verse, 
 are 
 
 1. The melodious variety of his cadences closing 
 within verses ; this being one of the essentials of ' true 
 musical delight ' which Milton mentions, in his re- 
 marks on ' The Verse,' ' the sense variously drawn out 
 from one verse into another ' ; and 
 
 2. The melodious and harmonious grouping of verses 
 into what may, with entire propriety, be called stanzas ^ 
 — stanzas which are more organic than the uniformly 
 constructed stanzas of rhymed verse. The latter must 
 be more or less artificial, by reason of the uniformity 
 which is maintained. But the stanzas of Milton's 
 blank verse are waves of harmony which are larger 
 or smaller, and with ever-varied cadences, according 
 to the propulsion of the thought and feeling which 
 produces them, which propulsion may be sustained 
 through a dozen verses or more, or may expend itself 
 in two or three. 
 
 No other blank verse in the language exhibits such 
 a masterly skill in the variation of its pauses — pauses, 
 I mean, where periodic groups, or logical sections of 
 groups, terminate, after, or within, it may be, the 
 
 1 See note, p. 21. 
 
 193
 
 194 
 
 M//./O.V'S BLA.Vk' r/-:A'SlL. 
 
 first, second, third, or fourth foot of a verse. There 
 are five cases where the termination is within the 
 fifth foot. 
 
 The following table exhibits the various parts of 
 verses, in the order of their numerical rank, after 
 which pauses occur. The variations of the regular 
 foot (xd), in these parts of verses, are also shown, 
 the accented syllable being often shifted, and un- 
 accented syllables being often added. These varia- 
 tions are not arbitrary, but, when properly read aloud, 
 in their connection, will be found to be organic ; that 
 is, they have a logical. or an aesthetic significance. It 
 has been seen, in a former chapter, how these varia- 
 tions were misunderstood and condemned by Dr 
 Johnson and other critics of the eighteenth century. 
 
 3 '" 
 
 
 
 
 
 587 
 
 2 xa . 
 
 
 
 
 
 497 
 
 2 xa 1 .« ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 242 
 
 3 ^a 1 X 
 
 
 
 
 
 198 
 
 xa \ X . 
 
 
 
 
 
 184 
 
 4 xa 
 
 
 
 
 
 '49 
 
 xa 
 
 
 
 
 
 116 
 
 ax 1 xa 
 
 
 
 
 
 78 
 
 ax \ 2xa 
 
 
 
 
 
 75 
 
 ax \ xa \ X 
 
 
 5' 
 
 ax 1 2 xa 1 X 
 
 
 26 
 
 at 
 
 
 23 
 
 ax \ ^ xa 
 
 
 18 
 
 2 xa 1 XX 
 
 
 '5 
 
 2 xa 1 xxa 
 
 
 «3 
 
 xa 1 xxa 1 xa 
 
 
 '3 
 
 xa 1 xxa 
 
 
 8 
 
 xa 1 .11 
 
 
 8 
 
 ' Wherever a (mal a 
 
 or U4 occurs, the •; »yllable fulluw 
 
 i the pause 
 
 in the ftuccceiling K''""] 
 
 ) or tcction o 
 
 f aRr 
 
 III)) 
 

 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 195 
 
 5 
 5 
 4 
 4 
 4 
 4 
 4 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 
 4xa \ X 
 ■2 ax \ xa 
 axx I r« 
 
 xa I xnz I r . 
 ax I ;t";ra | xa \ x 
 
 3 A'<« I XX 
 
 xax \ 2 xa 
 ax\ xa \ xxa 
 xa I xxa I 2 ra 
 
 ax\ X . 
 
 xa I .r.ra! | avz | a- 
 
 ax I xi-« 
 
 rtjr I xa I ;rjr . 
 
 axx \ s xa 
 axx I «r 
 ax\ 2 xa \ xxa 
 axx 
 
 ax \ xa \ ax \ xa 
 xxa \ 2 xa 
 2 xa \ ax\ xa 
 ax \ ;i xa \ X 
 xa \ ax\ X . 
 xxa 1 xa I X . 
 xxa I X 
 xa \ ax 
 
 Of the 2355 pauses, where periodic groups, or 
 logical sections of groups, terminate, 587 (almost 
 exactly one-fourth of the whole number) occur after 
 T^xa} This section of verse may be regarded as a 
 secondary metrical theme to the primary, 5 xa, other 
 sections being, in their turn, variations upon this. 
 
 1 The whole number of pauses after the third foot is 696, there being 
 75 {ax I 2xa), 13 {2xa \ xxa), 13 {xa \ xxa \ xa), 5 {2ax \.xa), 
 2 (ax I xa I xxa), and i {xxa \ 2xa).
 
 196 AflLTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 Examples of the Several Kinds of Pauses or 
 
 Stops. 
 
 And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer 
 Before all temples the upright heart and pure. 
 Instruct me, for Thou know'st ; 
 
 — i. 19. 
 
 Or hear'st thou rather, ])ure ethereal stream. 
 Whose fountain who shall tell ? 
 
 So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, 
 Or dim suftusion veiled. 
 
 On to their morning's rural work they haste. 
 Among sweet dews and flowers ; 
 
 — V. ; 
 
 All night, the dreadlcss Angel, un|)ursued. 
 Through Heav'ns wide champain held his way. till morn. 
 Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand 
 Unbarred the gates of light. 
 
 — iii. 8. 
 
 — iii. a6. 
 
 -vi.4. 
 
 2 xa : 
 
 on his right 
 
 The radiant image of his glory sat. 
 
 His only Son : 
 
 Freely we serve. 
 Because we freely love. a.s in our will 
 To love or not : 
 
 Others on silver lakes and rivers bathed 
 Their downy bre.i-st. 
 
 2 xa \ x: 
 
 Rut if death 
 
 Hind us with after-bands, what profits the 
 
 Our inward freedom ? 
 
 — iii. 64. 
 
 — V. 540- 
 
 - vil. 438. 
 
 — ix. 76a.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 1 97 
 
 where highest woods impenetrable 
 To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad, 
 And brown as ev'ning ! 
 
 — ix. 1088. 
 
 How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold 
 The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, 
 Depopulation ! 
 
 3 jra I r: 
 
 his doom is fair. 
 
 That dust I am, and shall to dust return. 
 
 O welcome hour whenever ! 
 
 His starry helm unbuckled showed him prime 
 In manhood where youth ended. 
 
 others, whence the sound 
 Of instruments, that made melodious chime. 
 Was heard, of harp and organ ; 
 
 xa I x: 
 
 They astonished, all resistance lost. 
 
 All courage ; 
 
 Hell saw 
 Heav'n ruining from Heav'n, and would have fled 
 Affrighted ; 
 
 Her long with ardent look his eye pursued, 
 Delighted ; 
 
 Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill. 
 Misgave him : 
 
 4ra: 
 
 These, lulled by nightingales, embracing, slept, 
 .Vnd on their naked limbs the flowVy roof 
 Showered roses, whicii the morn repaired. 
 
 — xi. 756. 
 
 — X. 771. 
 
 •xi. 246. 
 
 — xi. 560. 
 
 — vi. 839. 
 
 — vi. 869. 
 
 -ix. 398. 
 
 — ix. 846. 
 
 — IV. 773.
 
 198 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 So under fier\' cope together rushed 
 Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
 And inextinguishable rage. 
 
 They plucked the seated hills with all their load, 
 Rocks, waters, woods, and, by the shaggy tops 
 Uplifting, bore them in their hands. 
 
 xa\ 
 
 So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend 
 Walked up and down alone, bent on his prey: 
 Alone : 
 
 the careful plowman doubting stands. 
 Lest on the threshing-Hoor his hopeful sheaves 
 Prove chaff. 
 
 He celebrated rode 
 Triumphant through mid Hcav'n. into the courts 
 And temple of his Mighty Father throned 
 On high ; 
 
 in his own image he 
 Created thee, in the image of God 
 Express ; 
 
 ax\ xa: 
 
 Celestial tabernacles where they slept 
 Fanned with cool winds ; 
 
 Saw where the sword of Mirliacl smote, and felled 
 Squadrons at once : 
 
 Unfeign^(l Hallelujahs to thee sing 
 Hymns of liigh praise : 
 
 And the third .sacred morn began to shine 
 Dawning through Heav'n. 
 
 — VI. 317. 
 
 — \\. 646. 
 
 — m. 44a. 
 
 — IV. 985. 
 
 — VI. 891. 
 
 — vii. 518. 
 
 — V. 655. 
 
 — VI. 951. 
 
 — VI. 745. 
 
 vi. 749.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 1 99 
 
 He on his impious foes right onward drove. 
 Gloomy as night : 
 
 that milky way, 
 Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest 
 Powdered with stars. 
 
 — vi. 832. 
 
 — vii. 581. 
 
 This is one of the most beautiful cadences in the 
 ' Paradise Lost.' See, also, vii. 63 1 ; viii. 314, 389 ; ix. 
 394, 434, 465, 578; X. 185, 304, 412, 789, 880; xi. 
 152, 240, 465, 495 ; xii. 537, etc. 
 
 ax I 2 xa : 
 
 The bold desiijn 
 
 Pleased highly those infernal states, and jov 
 Sparkled in all their eyes. 
 
 On a green shady bank profuse of flow'rs, 
 Pensive I sat me down ; 
 
 for those 
 Appointed to sit there had left their charge. 
 Flown to the upper world ; 
 
 Thus was the applause they meant 
 Turned to exploding hiss ; 
 
 In th' midst an altar as the land-mark stood, 
 Rustic, of grassy sord.^ 
 
 though here thou see him die 
 Rolling in dust and gore. 
 
 So may'st thou live till, like ripe fruit, thou drop 
 Into thy mother's lap, or he with ease 
 Gathered, not harshly plucked ; 
 
 — XI. 537. 
 » Sward. Shakespeare's ' W. T.,' ' greene-sord ' (ist Folio), iv. 4. 1 57. 
 
 — ii. 388. 
 
 • viii. 287. 
 
 — X. 422. 
 
 — X. 546. 
 
 — XI. 433- 
 
 — xi. 460.
 
 200 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 till in his rage 
 Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the sea 
 Swallows him with his host ; 
 
 — xii. 196. 
 
 This is also a beautiful and very effective cadence. 
 It occurs seventy-five times. 
 
 ax I xa I x: 
 
 Into this wild abyss the wary Fiend 
 
 Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while, 
 
 Pond'ring his voyage ; 
 
 — H. 919. 
 And in their motions harmony divine 
 So smoothes her charming tones, that God's own ear 
 Listens delighted. 
 
 part huge of bulk 
 Wallowing unwieldly. enormous in their gait, 
 Tempest the ocean ; 
 
 With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect 
 Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass 
 Floated redundant. 
 
 nor stood much in awe 
 Of man, but fled him, or with countenance g^im 
 Glared on liim passing. 
 
 On the ground 
 Outstretched he lay, on the cold ground, and oft 
 Cursed his creation ; 
 
 High in front .idv.-inccd. 
 The brandished sword of Ciod before ihem blazed 
 Fierce as a comet ; 
 
 ax\2xa\ x: 
 
 who wont to meet 
 So oft in festivals of joy and love 
 Unanimous, .xs sons of one great sire 
 Hymning th' Eternal Father; 
 
 — V. 637. 
 
 — VII. 413. 
 
 — IX. 503. 
 
 — »• 7M. 
 
 X. 853. 
 
 — xil. 634. 
 
 — vi, 96.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 20I 
 
 Whence hail to thee, 
 Eve, rightly called mother of all mankind, 
 Mother of all things living ; 
 
 — xi. i6o. 
 
 a different sort 
 From the high neighboring hills, which were their seat, 
 Down to the plain descended. 
 
 those few escaped 
 Famine and anguish will at last consume, 
 Wandering that watery desert. 
 
 ax: 
 
 With parted spears, as thick as when a field 
 Of Ceres ripe for harvest waving bends 
 Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind 
 Sways them ; 
 
 nor is it aught but just 
 That he who in debate of truth hath won 
 Should win in arms, in both disputes alike 
 Victor ; 
 
 who him defied, 
 And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound 
 Threatened ; 
 
 Thus they in lowliest plight, repentant, stood 
 Praying ; 
 
 Studious they appear 
 Of arts that polish life, inventors rare. 
 Unmindful of their Maker, though his Spirit 
 Taught them ; 
 
 ax\ ^xa: 
 
 Encroached on still through your intestine broils, 
 Weakening the sceptre of old Night : 
 
   xi. 576. 
 
 — XI. 779. 
 
 — iv. 983. 
 
 — VI. 124. 
 
 — vi. 359- 
 
 — XI. 2. 
 
 — xi. 612. 
 
 — 11. looa.
 
 202 
 
 MILJ OX'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 Yet not the more 
 Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt 
 Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 
 Sniit with the love of sacred song ; 
 
 All Heav'n, 
 And happy constellations on that hour 
 Shed their selectest influence I 
 
 As (iod in Heav'n 
 Is centre, yet extends to all, so thou 
 Centring receiv'st from all those orbs ; 
 
 However, 1 with thee have fixed my lot, 
 Certain to undergo like doom. 
 
 The voice of God they heard 
 Now walking in the garden, by soft winds 
 Brought to their ears, while day declined : 
 
 would either not accept 
 Life oflTered, or soon beg to lay it down, 
 Glad to be so dismissed in peace, 
 
 2 xa I XX : 
 
 Turning our tortures, into horrid arms 
 Against the torturer; 
 
 That golden sceptre, which thou didst reject. 
 Is now an iron rod, to bruise and break 
 Thy disobedience. 
 
 adorned 
 With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow 
 To make her amiable! 
 
 2 xa I xxa : 
 
 Hail, holy Light, oflfspring of Heav'n first-born. 
 Or of th' Eternal coetcrnal beam. 
 May I express thee unblamed.^ 
 
 — III. 29 
 
 — vm. 513. 
 
 — u. 109. 
 
 — IX. 953. 
 
 — X. 99. 
 
 — XI. 507. 
 
 — it. 64. 
 
 — V. 888. 
 
 — viii 4(14 
 
 — lU. 3.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 203 
 
 Food not of Angels, yet accepted so, 
 
 As that more willingly thou couldst not seem 
 
 At Heaven's high feasts to have fed : 
 
 — V. 467 
 
 arms on armour clashing brayed 
 Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 
 Of brazen chariots raged ; 
 
 yet oft they quit 
 The dank, and rising on stiff pennons tow'r 
 The mid aerial sky : 
 
 the spirit of Man 
 Which God inspired, cannot together perish 
 With this corporeal clod! 
 
 He looked, and saw a spacious plain, whereon 
 Were tents of various hue : 
 
 Then through the fiery pillar and the cloud 
 God, looking forth, will trouble all his host, 
 And craze their chariot-wheels : 
 
 xa I xxa I xa : 
 
 Cherubic songs by night from neighboring hills 
 Aerial music send ; 
 
 And now their mightiest quelled, the battle swerved, 
 With many an inroad gored ; 
 
 all the ground 
 With shivered armour strewn, and on a heap 
 Chariot and charioteer lay overturned. 
 And fiery foaming steeds ; 
 
 the crested cock, whose clarion sounds 
 The silent hours, and th' other whose gay train 
 Adorns him, coloured with the florid hue 
 Of rainbows and starry eyes. 
 
 VI. 211. 
 
 — Vll. 442. 
 
   — X. 786. 
 
 — XI. 557- 
 
 — xu. 210. 
 
 ■V. 548. 
 
 — vi. 387. 
 
 — VI. 391. 
 
 vii. 446.
 
 204 MILTON'S BLAXK VERSE. 
 
 xa I xxa : 
 
 Twixt host and host but narrow space was left 
 (A dreadful interval), and front to front 
 Presented, stood in terrible array, 
 Of hideous length. 
 
 Forthwith from council to the work they flew ; 
 None arguing stood ; 
 
 Whence heavy persecution shall arise 
 On all who in the worship persevere 
 Of spirit and truth ; 
 
 xa\xx: 
 
 and th" ethereal mould 
 Incapable of stain would soon expel 
 Her mischief, and purge o(T the baser fire 
 Victorious. 
 
 o'er which the mantling vine 
 Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps 
 Luxuriant : 
 
 What meant that caution joined. If ye be found 
 Obedient ? 
 
 and now went forth the morn 
 Such as in highest Heav'n, arrayed in gold 
 Emjjyreal ; 
 
 — VI. 107. 
 
 — W. 508. 
 
 — «l«-533. 
 
 — II. 143. 
 
 — iv. a6o. 
 
 — V. 514. 
 
 — VI. 14 
 
 for what avails 
 Valour or strength, though matchless. (|uclled with pain 
 Which all subcUics. and makes remiss the hands 
 Of mightiest? 
 
 — vi. 459- 
 
 At his command th' uprooted hills retired 
 
 Kach to his place; they heard his voice, and went 
 
 Obsequious : 
 
 - vi. 783.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 20$ 
 
 \xa \ x: 
 
 and joys 
 
 Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change 
 
 BefaU'n us unforeseen, unthought of; 
 
 — ii. 821. 
 
 Son of my bosom, Son who art alone 
 
 My word, my wisdom, and effectual might, 
 
 All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are ; 
 
 — iii. 171. 
 
 Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept 
 The smelling gourd, upstood the corny reed 
 Embattled in her field, and th' humble shrub, 
 And bush with frizzled hair implicit. 
 
 One came, methought, of shape divine, 
 And said, Thy mansion wants thee, Adam ; 
 
 2 ax I xa : 
 
 My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst. 
 Unargued, I obey ; so God ordains ; 
 God is thy law, thou mine ; 
 
 — vii. 323. 
 
 — viii. 296. 
 
 -iv. 637. 
 
 The words ' God,' ' thy,' and ' mine ' receive the 
 stress. 
 
 Nor yet in horrid shade or dismal den, 
 Nor nocent yet, but on the grassy herb 
 Fearless, unfeared, he slept. 
 
 — ix. 187. 
 
 The prefix ' un-,' of ' unfeared,' receives the stress. 
 
 axx \ xa: 
 
 and as they went, 
 
 Shaded with branching palm, each order bright, 
 
 Sung triumph, and him sung victorious King, 
 
 Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion given, 
 
 Worthiest to reign. 
 
 — vi. 888.
 
 ?o6 .)///. 7 O.V'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 But Adam with such counsel nothing swayed, 
 To better hopes his more attentive mind 
 Labouring had raised ; 
 
 now Conscience wakes Despair 
 That skimbcrcd, wakes tlie bitter memory 
 Of what he was, what is, and what must be 
 Worse ; 
 
 in his right hand 
 Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent 
 Before him, such ;is in their souls infixed 
 IMagues. 
 
 — X. I013 
 
 — iv. 26. 
 
 — vi. 8^8 
 
 But if thou think, trial unsougiit may tind 
 
 Us both securer than thus warned thou seem'st. 
 
 Go: 
 
 Redouble then this miracle, and say. 
 
 How cam'st thou speakabic of mute; and how 
 
 To me so friendly grown above the rest 
 
 Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight ! 
 
 Say ! 
 
 — ix. 566. 
 
 xa I xxa I .r: 
 
 For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four chami)ions fierce 
 Strive here for ma.stVy, and to battle bring 
 Their embryon atoms ; 
 
 — ii. 900. 
 
 Nor was his ear less pealed 
 With noises loud and ruinous (to compare 
 Great things with small) than when Bellona storms 
 With all her batt'ring engines bent, to raze 
 Some capital city ; 
 
 — li. 994. 
 
 unsavVy food perhaps 
 To spiritual natures ; 
 
 - V. 40J.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 20y 
 
 With adverse blast upturns them from the south 
 Notus and Afer black, with thund'rous clouds 
 From Serraliona. 
 
 dx I xxa \ xa \ x: 
 
 Abashed the Devil stood, 
 And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 
 Virtue in her shape how lovely ; 
 
 I to thee disclose 
 What inward thence I feel, not therefore foil'd, 
 Who meet with various objects, from the sense 
 Variously representing ; 
 
 3 ;m I XX : 
 
 That thou art happy, owe to God ; 
 That thou continuest such, owe to thyself; 
 That is, to thy obedience : 
 
 but anon 
 Down cloven to the waist, with shattered arms 
 And uncouth pain fled bellowing. 
 
 xax I 2 xa : 
 
 and with the setting sun 
 Dropt from the zenith like a falling star, 
 On Lemnos, th' JEgean isle : 
 
 my constant thoughts 
 Assured me, and still assure : 
 
 — X. 703. 
 
 — viii. 610. 
 
 — V. 522. 
 
 — vi. 362. 
 
 — i. 746. 
 
 — V. 553- 
 
 This might be scanned as xa \ xxa \ xa. But, 
 according to the construction, the other is better. 
 
 ax\ xa \ xxa : 
 
 and forthwith light 
 Ethereal first of things, quintessence pure. 
 Sprung from the deep, and from her native east 
 To journey through the aery gloom began. 
 Sphered in a radiant cloud ; 
 
 — vii. 247.
 
 — X. 117. 
 
 — V. 407- 
 
 — •• «39- 
 
 — vi. 86. 
 
 20S MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 xa I xxa I 2 xa : 
 
 I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice 
 Afraid, being naked, hid myself. 
 
 xxa I xa : 
 
 Therefore what he gives 
 (Whose praise be ever sung) to Man in part 
 Spiritual, may of* purest Spirits be found 
 No ingratcful food : 
 
 ax I X : 
 
 As far as Gods and heav'nly essences 
 Can perish ; 
 
 xa I xxa I xa \ x: 
 
 The banded PowVs of Satan hasting on 
 With furious expedition ; 
 
 ax I xxa : 
 
 with grave 
 Asp<5ct he rose, and in his rising seemed 
 A pillar of state : 
 
 ax I xa I XX : 
 
 Not Spirit.s. yet to heav'nly Spirits briglit 
 Little inferior : 
 
 xax : 
 
 nigh foundered on he fares. 
 
 Treading the soft consistence, half on foot. 
 
 Half flying; 
 
 axx I 3 xa : 
 
 but Eve 
 Undecked save with herself, more lovely fair 
 Than Wood-JMym|)h, or the fairest (".oddess feigned 
 Of tlirec that in mount Ida naked strove. 
 
 Stood to entertain lier guest from Heav'n. 
 
 - y- 383. 
 
 'of: may have the force of 'by,' the antecedent being ' found'; 
 or, ibc .nntrcc'lcnt may be ' food,' the mciniiiR Ixiiij^, ' may be found 
 no inf^ratcful food of purest .Spirits.' Tlw furmi r is the belter. 
 
 — u. 30a. 
 
 — iv. 36a. 
 
 — ii. 943.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 209 
 
 axx ax: 
 
 he together calls, 
 Or sevVal one by one, the regent pow'rs, 
 
 Under him regent ; 
 
 ax \ 2 xa \ xxa : 
 
 These as a line their long dimension drew, 
 Streaking the ground with sinuous trace ; 
 
 axx: 
 
 Pleasing was his shape, 
 
 And lovely : never since the serpent kind 
 Lovelier : 
 
 ax I xa I ax | xa : 
 
 In thy pow'r 
 It lies, yet ere conception, to prevent 
 The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. 
 Childless thou art, childless remain ; 
 
 xxa \ 2 xa: 
 
 So both ascend 
 In the visions of God. 
 
 — V. 698. 
 
 — vii. 481. 
 
 — IX. 505. 
 
 — X. 989. 
 
 — XI. 377. 
 
 The word 'visions' is trisyllabic. The remainder 
 of the verse is ' It was a hill,' 2xa. 
 
 2 xa \ ax \ xa: 
 
 larger than whom the sun 
 
 Engendered in the Pythian vale on slime. 
 
 Huge Python, and his i^ow'r no less he seemed 
 
 Above the rest still to retain. 
 
 — X. 532. 
 
 ax \ ■^ xa \ x: 
 
 This having learned, thou hast attained the sum 
 Of wisdom ; . . . 
 
 , ... only add 
 
 Deeds to thy knowledge answerable ; 
 
 — xii. 582.
 
 2IO MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 xa \ ax \ X : 
 
 Both have sinned : but thou 
 
 Against Ood only ; 
 The stress should be on the word ' God.' 
 
 xxa \ xa\ x: 
 
 Unskilful with what words to pray, let me 
 Interpret for him, me his Advocate 
 And propitiation. 
 
 xxa I x: 
 
 (not so thick swarmed once the soil 
 Hedropt with blood of Gurgun, or the isle 
 Ophiusa) ; 
 
 xa I ax: 
 
 Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey 
 Before his voice ? 
 
 — X. 931. 
 
 — XI. 34. 
 
 — X. 5»8. 
 
 — X. 146. 
 
 The word ' his " receives the stress. 
 
 To appreciate these varied sections of verses as 
 contributin}^ to the general melody and harmony of 
 the verse, and to the special melody and harmony of 
 the groups to which they severally belong, an entire 
 book, at least, of the ' Paradise Lost,' should be read 
 aloud at one time. 
 
 Hut no single reading is sufficient for the appre- 
 ciation of the higher forms of verse, whatever those 
 forms may be, any more than a single rendering, or 
 a single hearing, of a production of the higher music 
 is sufficient for its api)reciati()n. A long familiarity 
 is required for securing all the effects, consciously or 
 unconsciously provided for, by the poet and the musical 
 composer. 
 
 The second of the two grand features of Milton's 
 blank verse I have mentioned, is the melodious and
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 211 
 
 harmonious grouping of verses into periods or stanzas 
 — larger or smaller waves of harmony, according to 
 the propulsion of the thought and feeling which pro- 
 duces them. 
 
 The fusion of many of the larger groups is some- 
 what due to what may be called theme vowels and 
 consonants ; certain vowels and consonants domi- 
 nating throughout a group, and giving it a special 
 vocal character, but not often so dominating as to be 
 brought to the consciousness of the reader or hearer. 
 There is much subtle initial and internal alliteration 
 of consonants, which may pass entirely unnoticed, 
 but which, nevertheless, contributes to the general 
 melodious and harmonious effect of a group. This 
 may be largely attributable to a fact already alluded 
 to, that strongly esemplastic feeling, in the expression 
 of itself, attracts certain vocal elements which best 
 chime with, and serve to conduct, it. 
 
 In the following examples, I have given, generally, 
 groups of average length, which the student can 
 readily hold together, rather than long-sustained 
 groups, of which the ' Paradise Lost ' abounds in 
 notable examples. As Matthew Browne [W. B. 
 Rands], in his ' Chaucer's England,' remarks : 'The 
 power of taking a long sweep before coming to a 
 pause, and then beginning again with a spring from 
 the pausing-point, is a well-known characteristic of 
 the best poetry. It is a characteristic of which we 
 had the last viagnificettt example in Milton.' 
 
 After citing Book i, 576-587, he adds: 'This is 
 only a portion of the sentence, which in its complete 
 form extends over seventeen lines of Milton's text
 
 212 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 
 
 [571-587] ; but it will suffice to exhibit to the least 
 accustomed j^erson, especially if he will read it out 
 loud, what is meant by length or strength of poetic 
 flight. It will be observed in reading it, that the 
 voice is kept in suspense, held as it were in the 
 air over the theme, and cannot come suddenly to 
 a cadence.' 
 
 The student should memorize all the examples 
 given, and afterwards frequently repeat them aloud, 
 until he completely feel the flow, and continuity, and 
 melodious cadence of each : 
 
 Him llie Almiji;lity Power 
 Hurled headlong flaming from th" ctlicrx-al sky. 
 With hideous ruin and combustion, down 
 To bottomless perdition, there to dwell 
 In adamantine chains and jicnal fire. 
 Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. 
 
 — >• 43-49- 
 
 He scarce had finished, when sucli murmur filleii 
 
 Th' assembly, as when lioilow rocks retain 
 
 The sound of blust'ring winds, which all night long 
 
 Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull 
 
 .Seafaring men o'erwatched, whose bark i)y chance 
 
 Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay 
 
 After the tempest. 
 
 — ii. 384-390. 
 
 Then of their session ended they bid cr)- 
 With tnmipets' regal sound the great result : 
 TowVds the four winds four sjieedy Chrnibim 
 Tut to their mouths the sounding alchemy 
 Hy henild's voice ex|)lained ; the hollow abyss 
 Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell 
 With deaPning shout returned them loud acclaim.
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 213 
 
 In discourse more sweet 
 (For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense) 
 Others apart sat on a hill retired, 
 In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high 
 Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, 
 Fixed fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute. 
 And found no end, in wandVing mazes lost. 
 
 "• 555-561. 
 
 Far off from these, a slow and silent stream, 
 Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls 
 Her watry labyrinth, whereof who drinks 
 Forthwith his former state and being forgets — 
 Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. 
 
 — ii. 582-586. 
 
 Through many a dark and dreary vale 
 They passed, and many a region dolorous, 
 O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, 
 
 Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death — 
 A universe of death, which God by curse 
 Created evil, for evil only good, 
 Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, 
 Per\-erse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, 
 Abominable, inutterable, and worse 
 Than fables yet have feigned, or fear conceived, 
 Gorgons and Hydras, and Chimeras dire. 
 
 — ii. 618-628. 
 
 I fled, and cried out Death ! 
 Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed 
 From all her caves, and back resounded Death ! 
 
 On a sudden open fl)-. 
 With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, 
 Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
 Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook 
 Of Erebus. 
 
 — ii. 787-789. 
 
 — ii. 879-883.
 
 214 MILTON'S BLANK' rEKSE. 
 
 No sooner had th' Almighty ceased but — all 
 
 The multitude of Angels, with a shout 
 
 Loud as from numbers without number, sweet 
 
 As from blest voices, uttering joy — Ik-avcn rung 
 
 With juljilee, and loud Hosannahs filled 
 
 Th' eternal regions. 
 
 Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet, 
 With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the Sun, 
 When first on tliis delightful land he spreads 
 His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, 
 GlistVing with dew ; fragrant the fertile Earth 
 After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 
 Of grateful Evening mild ; then silent N'ight, 
 With this her solemn bird, and this fair iMoon< 
 And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train : 
 But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends 
 With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising Sun 
 On this deligiitful land : nor herb, fniit. flower, 
 (ilist'ring with dew ; nor fragrance after showers : 
 Nor grateful Evening mild ; nor silent Night. 
 With this her solemn bird ; nor walk by Moon. 
 Or glitt'ring star-light, without thee is sweet. 
 
 How often, from the stec]) 
 Of echoing hill or thicket, have we heard 
 Celestial voices to the midnight air. 
 Sole, or responsive each to other's note, 
 .Singing their great Creator ! 
 
 — «»• 344-349- 
 
 — iv. 641-6S6. 
 
 — iv. 680-684. 
 
 At once on the eastern cliff of Paradise 
 
 He light.s, and to his proi)er shape return.s, 
 
 A seraph winged ; six wings he wore to shade 
 
 His lineaments divine: the pair that clad 
 
 Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast 
 
 With regal ornament ; the middle paii 
 
 Crirt like a starry zone his waist, and round
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 21 5 
 
 Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold 
 And colours dipt in Heaven ; the third his feet 
 Shadowed from either heel with feathered mail, 
 Sky-tinctured grain ; like Maia's son he stood 
 And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance filled 
 The circuit wide. 
 
 275-287. 
 
 Meanwhile in other parts like deeds deserved 
 Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought. 
 And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep array 
 Of Moloch, furious King, who him defied, 
 And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound 
 Threatened, nor from the Holy One of Heaven 
 Refrained his tongue blasphemous, but anon 
 Down cloven to the waist, with shattered arms 
 And uncouth pain fled bellowing. 
 
 — vi. 354-362. 
 
 They astonished, all resistance lost. 
 All courage ; down their idle weapons dropt ; 
 O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rode 
 Of Thrones and mighty Seraphim prostrate. 
 That wished the mountains now might be again 
 Thrown on them, as a shelter from his ire. 
 
 vi. 838-843. 
 
 On Heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore 
 They viewed the vast immeasurable Abyss 
 Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, 
 Up from the bottom turned by furious winds 
 And surging waves, as mountains, to assault 
 Heaven's highth, and with the centre mi.\ the pole. 
 
 — VII. 210-215. 
 
 There was a place. 
 Now not, the' sin, not time, first wrought the change. 
 Where Tigris at the foot of Paradi.se 
 Into a gulf shot under ground, till part 
 Rose up a fountain l)y the Tree of Life : 
 In with the river sunk, and with it ro.se
 
 2l6 MILTON'S BLANK' VERSE. 
 
 Satan, involved in rising mist, then sought 
 Where to lie hid ; sea he had searched and land 
 From Eden over Pontus, and the pool 
 Mxotis, up beyond the river Ob ; 
 Downward as far antarctic : and in length 
 West from Orontes to the ocean barred 
 At Darien, thence to the land where flows 
 Ganges and Indus : thus the orb he roamed 
 With narrow search, and with insjjcction deep 
 Considered every creature, wiiich of all 
 Most opportune might ser\'e his wiles, and found 
 The serjJent subtlest beast of all the field. 
 
 — ix. 69-86. 
 
 So saying, through each thicket, dank or dry. 
 
 Like a black mist low creeping, he held on 
 
 His midnight search, where soonest he might find 
 
 The serpent : him fast sleeping soon he found. 
 
 In labyrinth of many a round .self-rolled. 
 
 His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles: 
 
 Nor yet in horrid shade or dismal den, 
 
 Nor nocent yet, but on the grassy herb 
 
 Fearless, unfeared, he slept. 
 
 — ix. 179-187. 
 
 Thus .saying, from her husband's hand her hand 
 Soft she withdrew, and, like a wood-nymph light, 
 (Jread or Dryad, or of Delias train, 
 Hetook her to the groves ; but Delia's self 
 In gait surpassed, and godde.ss-like deport. 
 Though not as she with bow and (|uiver armed. 
 lUit with such gardening tools a.s Art, yet rude, 
 (iuiltless of fire, had formed, or Angels brought. 
 
 — ix. 38$-39«' 
 
 As one who, long in populous city pent. 
 Where hou.ses thick and sewers annoy the air, 
 Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe 
 Among the pleasant villages and farms 
 Adjoined, from each thing met conceives delight —
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 21/ 
 
 The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine. 
 Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound — 
 If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass, 
 What pleasing seemed, for her now pleases more. 
 She most, and in her look sums all delight. 
 
 ■IX. 445-454. 
 
 So spake the Enemy of Mankind, enclosed 
 In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve 
 Addressed his way — not with indented wave, 
 Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear, 
 Circular base of rising folds, that towered 
 Fold above fold, a surging maze ; his head 
 Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes ; 
 With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect 
 Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass 
 Floated redundant. 
 
 — IX. 494-503. 
 
 On the other side, Adam, soon as he heard 
 The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed, 
 Astonied stood and blank, while horror cliill 
 Ran through his veins, and all his joints rela.xed : 
 From his .slack hand the garland, wreathed for Eve, 
 Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed. 
 
 — ix. 888-893. 
 
 Immediately a place 
 Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark ; 
 A lazar-house it seemed, wherein were laid 
 Numbers of all diseased, all maladies 
 Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms 
 Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, 
 Convulsion.s, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, 
 Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, 
 Demoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy. 
 And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, 
 Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, 
 Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums.- 
 
 Dire was the tossing, deep the groans ; Despair 
 Tended the sick, busiest, from couch to couch ;
 
 2l8 MILTON'S BIAXK VERSE. 
 
 And over them triumphant Death his dart 
 Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked 
 With vows, as their chief good and final hope. 
 
 — X'- 477-488: 489-493- 
 
 High in front advanced. 
 The brandished sword of (lod before them blazed 
 Fierce as a comet ; which with torrid heat, 
 And vapour as the Libyan air adust, 
 Began to parch that temperate clime ; whereat 
 In either hand the hastening Angel caught 
 Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate 
 Led them direct, and down the clitTas fast 
 To the subjected plain — then disappeared. 
 
 — xii. 632-640. 
 
 Coleridge, in the third of his ' Satyrane's Letters,' 
 gives an account of his visit with Wordsworth to the 
 poet Klopstock. In the course of their conversation, 
 Klopstock talked of Milton and Glover, and thought 
 
 Glover's blank verse superior to Milton's. 'W 
 
 and myself expressed our surprise; and my friend 
 gave his definition and notion of harmonious verse, 
 that it consisted {the English iambic blank verse above 
 all) in the apt arrangement of f>anscs and cadences, 
 and the siueep of ivhole paragraphs, 
 
 with many a winditu; bout 
 Of linkhi sweetness long drawn out, 
 
 and not in the even flow, much less in the prominence 
 or antithetic vigor of single lines, which were indeed 
 injurious to the total effect, except where they zoere 
 introduced for some specific purpose. Klopstock as- 
 sented, and said that he meant to confine Glover's 
 superiority to single lines.' lie probably had not
 
 MILTON'S BLANK VERSE. 219 
 
 appreciated any English blank verse beyond the in- 
 dividual line, if even so much as that. 
 
 Here we have what was probably the first true 
 characterization of Milton's blank verse given in 
 1798 or 1799. Mr. John Addington Symonds has 
 worked up this characterization in his article on the 
 blank verse of Milton in the ' Fortnightly Review,' 
 December i, 1874, pp. 767-781, in which he states 
 that ' the secret of complex and melodious blank 
 verse lies in preserving the balance and proportion of 
 syllables while varying their accent and their relative 
 weight and volume, so that each line in a period shall 
 carry its proper burden of sound, but the burden shall 
 be differently distributed in the successive verses.' 
 
 Dc Quincey, in a somewhat humorous passage in 
 his essay entitled * Milton vs. Southey and Landor,' 
 says : ' You might as well tax Mozart with harshness 
 in the divinest passages of " Don Giovanni " as Mil- 
 ton with any such offence against metrical science. 
 Be assured, it is yourself that do not read with un- 
 derstanding, not Milton that by possibility can be 
 found deaf to the demands of perfect harmony. You 
 are tempted, after walking round a line threescore 
 times, to exclaim at last, " Well, if the Fiend himself 
 should rise up before me at this very moment, in this 
 very study of mine, and say that no screw was loose 
 in that line, then would I reply, ' Sir, with submis- 
 sion, you are '" "What!" suppose the Fiend 
 
 suddenly to demand in thunder, " What am I .' " 
 "Horribly wrong," you wish exceedingly to say; 
 but, recollecting that some people are choleric in 
 argument, you confine yourself to the polite answer,
 
 220 SOA//-: B/.AXK VERSE SLVCE MILTON. 
 
 " that, with deference to his better education, you 
 conceive him to lie;" — that's a bad word to drop 
 your voice upon in talking with a fiend, and you has- 
 ten to add, "under a slight, a ?r;;j' slight mistake." 
 Ay, you might venture on that opinion with a fiend. 
 Hut how if an angel should undertake the case ? and 
 angelic was the ear of Milton. Many are the primd 
 facie anomalous lines in Milton ; many are the sus- 
 picious lines, which in many a book I have seen 
 many a critic peering into with eyes made up for 
 mischief, yet with a misgiving that all was not quite 
 safe, very much like an old raven looking down a 
 marrow bone. In fact, such is the metri.cal skill of 
 the man, and such the perfection of his metrical sen- 
 sibility, that, on any attempt to take liberties with a 
 passage of his, you feel as when coming, in a forest, 
 upon what seems a dead lion ; perhajjs he may not 
 be dead, but only sleeijing ; nay, perhaps he may not 
 be sleeping, but only shamming. And you have a 
 jealou.sy, as to Milton, even in the most flagrant case 
 of almo.st palj)able error, that, after all, there may be 
 a plot in it. You may be put down with shame by 
 some man reading the line otherwise, reading it with 
 a different emjjhasis, a different caisura, or, perhaps, 
 a different suspension of the voice, so as to bring 
 out a new and self-justifying effect.' 
 
 Postscript on Somk Blank Vkksr since Milton. 
 
 In regard to the blank verse produced since Milton, 
 space will allow a reference only to some of the best. 
 Sir Henry Taylor, in his letter to Sir John Her.schel,
 
 SOME BLANK VERSE SINCE MILTON. 221 
 
 August 26, 1862 ('Correspondence,' edited by Pro- 
 fessor Dowden), is hardly just in his estimate of it: 
 ... 'for more than a hundred years the art of writ- 
 ing anything but the heroic couplet seems to have 
 been lost, . . . and when our verse ceased to clank 
 this chain, it rose into lyrical movements of some force 
 and freedom, but to me it seems never to have recov- 
 ered the subtle and searching power and consonantal 
 pith which it lost in that fatal eighteenth century, 
 when our language itself was dethroned and levelled. 
 The blank verse of Young and Cowper in the last 
 century, or (with the exception of occasional pas- 
 sages) of Southey and Wordsworth in this, is, to my 
 mind, no more like that of the better Elizabethans 
 than a turnpike road is like a bridle path, or a plan- 
 tation like a forest.' 
 
 Just what he meant to convey by the comparisons 
 with which this extract concludes is not entirely evi- 
 dent ; but that a too sweeping condemnation is in- 
 volved of the blank verse produced since the Eliza- 
 bethan era is evident enough. 
 
 The blank verse of Cowper's ' Task ' is admirably 
 adapted to the theme, which did not admit of a more 
 elaborate style of verse. (The first ninety-five verses 
 of ' The Winter Morning Walk ' afford a good speci- 
 men of it.) Cowper saw further than any one before 
 him had seen, into the secrets of the elaborate music 
 of Milton's blank verse, and availed himself of those 
 secrets to some extent — to as far an extent as the 
 simplicity of his themes demanded. Whether^ he 
 could have treated loftier themes in blank verse in- 
 volving more of those secrets, is another question.
 
 222 SOME BLANK' VEKSE SINCE MILTON. 
 
 There are passages, however, in liis translations of 
 the ' Iliad ' and the * Odyssey ' which indicate that he 
 might well have done so, and make one regret that 
 he wasted his time on Homeric translation. 
 
 The blank verse of Southey's ' Roderick, the Last 
 of the Goths ' has great merit as narrative verse, and 
 is worthy of careful study. The variations on the 
 theme-metre, and the resultant pause melody, show 
 not only great metrical skill, but a moulding spirit 
 which is quite a law to itself, and beyond mere skill. 
 
 Wordsworth's ' Yew Trees ' is a bit of masterful 
 blank verse which ranks with the very best in the 
 language. His ' Lines composed a few miles above 
 Tintern Abbey,' which announced the advent of a 
 new gospel of poetry, have a charm j)eculiarly their 
 own — a prevailing tone which is a radiation of the 
 feeling embodied. The verse of his 'Nutting' and 
 ' Michael ' has a simjilicity and directness, and an easy 
 go, which are very charming. The blank verse of 
 • The Prelude ' and ' The Excursion ' is unequal in 
 merit, there being a good deal of subject-matter in 
 both compositions of a quality not demanding other 
 than a prose expression ; but they abound in speci- 
 mens of blank verse of a high order. 
 
 The blank verse of Shelley's ' Alastor ; or, the 
 Spirit of Solitude' has an animated majesty which 
 readers the least regardful of verse must feel and 
 enjoy to some extent. The opening invocation to 
 ' Karth, ocean, air, beloved brotherhood ! ' extending 
 to the forty-ninth verse ; the verses enumerating the 
 solemn places which the Poet's wandering stej) had 
 visited (106-128); those descriptive of ' the ethereal
 
 SOME BLANK VERSE SINCE MILTON. 223 
 
 cliffs of Caucasus ' ; of the cavern which ' ingulphcd the 
 rushing sea,' and its windings which the Poet's boat 
 pursued ; of the forest which he explored, ' one vast 
 mass of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence 
 a narrow vale embosoms' (351-468), are especially to 
 be noted. But the verse throughout is very noble. 
 Effective extra end-syllables crop out occasionally. 
 
 The blank verse of Matthew Arnold's ' Sohrab and 
 Rustum ' illustrates his own definition of the grand 
 style, given in his essay ' On translating Homer ' : ' I 
 think it will be found that the grand style arises in 
 poetry wJieJi a 7ioble nature, poetically gifted, treats 
 ivith simplicity or zvith severity a serious subject.' A 
 very comprehensive definition. If he had said, 'When 
 one poetically gifted,' etc., omitting 'a noble nature,' 
 the definition would have been imperfect. Simplic- 
 ity and severity, in the treatment of a serious subject, 
 demand a noble nature. They must be the expres- 
 sion of the poet's own moral constitution. In a poem 
 which is largely the product of literary skill, and is 
 not truly honest (the feeling being more or less 
 affected), there is quite sure to be, in places, a greater 
 or less strain of expression. High art (which is more 
 than technique, and insist involve the personality of 
 the artist) is characterized by the absence of strain. 
 ' Sohrab and Rustum ' is absolutely without the slight- 
 est strain. Some readers may feel that there is too 
 much of artistic restraint in it. 
 
 Who reads this measure, flowing strong and deep. 
 It seems to him old Homer's voice he hears. ^ 
 
 ^ Edith M. Thomas's sonnet 'After reading Arnold's Sohrab and 
 Rustum.'
 
 224 SOME BLANK' J'ERSE S/.VCE Jf/LTON. 
 
 The cadence of the poem, which sets in at the 36th 
 verse from the end, ' So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab 
 lay dead,' has a sweet solemnity to which the move- 
 ment of the verse contributes much. 
 
 The abundant extracts given in Section V. of this 
 book, from Tennyson's ' Princess ' and ' Idylls of the 
 King,' as examples of organic variety of measures, 
 are sufficient to show his triumphant skill in the writ- 
 ing of blank verse. And the extract from his ' Enoch 
 Arden,' on pages 6 and 7, is a notable exami)le of it. 
 His blank verse, too, has its own distinct character. 
 It gives out no echoes of any of his great predeces- 
 .sors, so far as my own ears have heard. It is an 
 expression of his own jKietic temperament. 
 
 Already in his ' Timbuctoo,' which took the Chan- 
 cellor's medal at the Cambridge Commencement in 
 1829, when he was in his twentieth year, he showed 
 a remarkable mastery over this most difficult form of 
 verse. 
 
 But notwithstanding the high excellence of all the 
 blank verse he has written, there is none, jjerhaps, 
 superior to that of his ' Morte d'Arthur,' first j)ub- 
 lished in 1842 (many years before the original ' Idylls 
 of the King' were published), and afterwards incorpo- 
 rated in the concluding Idyll of the series, 'The Pass- 
 ing of Arthur.' It is eminently noble. 
 
 All things considered, the greatest achievement of 
 the century in blank verse, is Robert Browning's 'The 
 Ring and the liook.' I don't mean the greatest in 
 bulk (although it is that, having 21,134 verses, double 
 the number of the 'Paradise Lost'); I mean the 
 greatest achievement in the effective use of blank
 
 SOME BLANK VERSE SINCE MILTON. 225 
 
 verse in the treatment of a great subject — really the 
 greatest subject, when viewed aright, which has been 
 treated in English poetry — vastly greater in its bear- 
 ings upon the highest education of man than that of 
 the ' Paradise Lost.' Its blank verse, while having a 
 most complex variety of character, is the most dra- 
 matic blank verse since the Elizabethan era. Hav- 
 ing read the entire poem aloud to classes every year 
 for several years, I feel prepared to speak of the 
 transcendent merits of the verse. One reads it with- 
 out a sense almost of there being anything artificial 
 in the construction of the language ; and by artificial 
 I mean put consciously into a certain shape. Of 
 course, it ivas put consciously into shape ; but one 
 gets the impression that the poet thought and felt 
 spontaneously in blank verse. And it is always 
 verse — though the reader has but a minimum of 
 metre consciousness. And the method of the thought 
 is always poetic. This is saying much, but not too 
 much. All moods of the mind are in the poem, 
 expressed in Protean verse. 
 
 Many other of Browning's poems (and they rank 
 with his greatest productions) are in blank verse 
 which, in each, has its own distinctly peculiar char- 
 acter. Among these should be especially noted, 
 'How it strikes a Contemporary' (1855), 'An Epistle 
 containing the strange medical Experiences of Kar- 
 shish, the Arab Physician' (1855), 'F'ra Lippo Lippi' 
 (1855), 'Andrea del Sarto' (1855), 'The Bi.shop orders 
 his Tomb at St. Praxed's Church' (1845), 'Bishop 
 Blougram's Apology ' (1855), 'Cleon' (1855), 'A Death 
 in the Desert' (1864), 'Caliban upon Setebos' (1864),
 
 226 SOME BLANK' VERSE SINCE MILTON. 
 
 'Mr. Sludge the Medium' (1864), ' Balaustion's Ad- 
 venture' (187 1). 
 
 All of these, with four exceptions, were published 
 some years before Sir Henry Taylor pronounced his 
 verdict upon the later blank verse. The verse of 
 each is unique in character, and of eminent merit. 
 But no one, however trained in verse, could appre- 
 ciate it through a single reading. There are too 
 many subtle effects provided for to be got at once. 
 
 He who adequately appreciates the verse of these 
 poems, must regard Robert Browning as one of the 
 greatest masters of language-shaping.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Abbott, E. A., quoted on Shake- 
 speare's verse, 47. 
 
 ' ABC," Chaucer's, stanza of, 92. 
 
 Accent, 3; effects secured by the 
 shifting of, 35-50. 
 
 ' Adonais,' Shelley's, the stanza of, 
 117-120. 
 
 ' Afterthought,' Wordsworth's, on 
 the river Duddon, 169. 
 
 Alexandrines, specially enforced, of 
 Spenser's ' Faerie Queene,' 96- 
 98. 
 
 Alliteration, an important element 
 of English verse, 9 ; examples of, 
 from Chaucer, 10-13 ; from Shake- 
 speare, 14, 15 ; from King James's 
 Bible, 16; from Tennyson, 16- 
 18. 
 
 ' Amoretti,' Spenser's, 182, 183. 
 
 Ariosto, referred to, as a sonneteer, 
 144, 147. 
 
 Arnold, Matthew, quoted on Words- 
 worth, 149; on Wordsworth's son- 
 net, 'Afterthought,' 168, 169; blank 
 verse of his 'Sohrab and Rustum,' 
 223, 224. 
 
 ' Ballade de Vilage sauns Peynture,' 
 Chaucer's, stanza of, 92. 
 
 Bayne, Peter, quoted on the verse 
 of Tennyson's 'Maud,' 69; on 
 the stanza of ' The Palace of Art," 
 81, 82; on a stanza of Shelley's 
 'Adonais,' 118. 
 
 Beattie, James, quoted on English 
 
 rhymes, 99; the stanza of his 
 ' Minstrel,' 108. 
 
 Bentley, Dr. Richard, his want of 
 appreciation of Milton's verse, 45. 
 
 Blank verse, general remarks on, 
 186; Henry Howard, Earl of 
 Surrey's, 188; Nicholas Grim- 
 oald's, 188, 189; of Norton and 
 Sackville's ' Gorboduc ' ; of Mar- 
 lowe's ' Edward the Second ' and 
 ' Tamburlaine,' 189, 190; Shake- 
 speare's, 191, 192; Milton's, 193- 
 220; blank verse since Milton, 
 220-226. 
 
 ' Bridge of Sighs,' Hood's, its double 
 and triple rhymes, 30. 
 
 Browne, Matthew, quoted on blank 
 verse, 211, 212. 
 
 Browning, Mrs. E. B., her use of the 
 double rhyme, 25, 26; her 'Son- 
 nets from the Portuguese,' 175- 
 179. 
 
 Browning, Robert, example from, 
 of melody, 5, 6; a master of 
 rhyme, 26; the blank verse of 
 his ' Ring and the Book,' and of 
 other poems, 224-226. 
 
 Burns, Robert, his ' Cotter's Satur- 
 day Night,' 108. 
 
 Butler's ' Hudibras,' 23. 
 
 Byron, Lord, his use of the ottava 
 rima in ' Don Juan," etc., 92; of 
 Spenser's stanza, in ' Childe Har- 
 old,' 125-131 ; his 'Sonnet on 
 Chillon,' 173. 
 
 227
 
 228 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Campbell, Thomas, his ' Gertrude 
 of Wyoming," io8. 
 
 'Castle of Indolence," Thomson's, 
 the stanza of, 109-111. 
 
 Chaucer, Geoffrey, example from, 
 of melody, 8 ; his use of allitera- 
 tion, 10-13; '*i*^ 'Monk's Tale' 
 stanz;i, the basis of Spenser's, 92 ; 
 example of, 9a, 93; other of his 
 poems in which the stanza is 
 used, 93. 
 
 ' Childe Harold,' Byron's, stanza of. 
 125-131. 
 
 Chillon, Byron's sonnet on, 173. 
 
 ' Christabel,' Coleridge's, its melody, 
 i8-ai. 
 
 Christopher North (Prof. John Wil- 
 son), quoted on Mnglish rhymes, 
 100. 
 
 ' Christ's Victory and Triumph,' 
 Giles Fletcher's stanza of, 135, 
 136. 
 
 Coleridge, S.T., i ; quoted on verse, 
 18 ; his subtle sense of melody, as 
 exhibited in 'Christabel,' 18-21. 
 
 Collins, William, his ' Ode on the 
 I'assions' as a rhyme study, 23-25. 
 
 Colonna, Vittoria, referred to as a 
 sonneteer, 144, 147. 
 
 Colvin, Sitlney, quoted on Keats"s 
 'Eve of St. Agnes," 120, 121, 122, 
 
 i»3. '^4- 
 * Compleyntc of a Ixveres Lyfe," 
 
 Chaucer's, stanza of Envoy to, 
 
 9a. 
 Cowlcf, Abraham, Dr. John5on"5 
 
 stricture on his verse, 39. 
 Cowpcr, William, his appreciation 
 
 of Millon"s verse, 45; the blank 
 
 verse of 'The Task," 221, 222. 
 '(J<jw|mt'» Grave," Mrs. Browning's, 
 
 lis double rhymes, 26. 
 ' Curse, The, of Kehama,' Southey's, 
 
 its varied metres, 3X 
 
 ' Daisy, The,' Tennyson's, its stanza, 
 
 84, 85. 
 Dante, referred to as a sonneteer, 
 
 144. 147- 
 
 Denham, Sir John, Dryden's esti- 
 mate of the verse of his 'Cooper's 
 Hill.' 107. 
 
 De Quincey, Thomas, quoted on 
 ' amphitheatre of woods," ' amphi- 
 theatre of hills," 161 ; on Milton's 
 verse, 219, 220. 
 
 ' Divina Commedia," Longfellow's 
 sonnets on the, 153, 154, 156. 
 
 Double rhymes, 26, 28, 29. 30. 
 
 Dryden, John, his rhetorical non- 
 sense, 106, 107. 
 
 Dyce, Alexander, Wordsworth's 
 letter to, on the sor>net, 164, 165. 
 
 Earle, I'rof. John, quoted on the 
 alliteration of Anglo-Saxon poetry, 
 13 (note). 
 
 Eckermann's ' Gespn'iche mit 
 Goethe," quotation from, on lit- 
 erary form, 149. 
 
 ' Flnvoy, L", de Chaucer \ Bukton,' 
 stanza of, 92. 
 
 ' Eve of St. Agnes," Keats's, stanza 
 of, iao-125. 
 
 Exceptional feet in Shakespeare's 
 verse, examples of, 51-56; in 
 Tennyson's ' I'rinccss' and 
 " Idylls of the King," 56-68. 
 
 ' Faerie Queene," Spenser"s, stanza 
 
 of, 87-107. 
 Fairfax, Edward, stanza of his Tas- 
 
 so's "Jerusalem Delivered," 90, 
 
 9«- 
 Fairfax, Thomas, Ix)rd, Milton"s 
 
 sonnet and eulogy upon, i66, 167. 
 Feeling, its unifying action, i, 2. 140, 
 Feet in English verse, 3. 4. 
 Female rhymes, Italian, 99, loa
 
 INDEX. 
 
 229 
 
 ' Ferrex and Porrex ' (or, *Gor- 
 
 boduc"), first English tragedy in 
 
 blank verse, 189. 
 Filicaja, Vincenzo, 172. 
 fletcher.Giles, stanza of his ' Christ's 
 
 Victory and Triumpli,' 135, 136. 
 Fletcher, Phineas, stanza of his 
 
 ' Purple Island," 134, 135. 
 'Flight of the Duchess,' Browning's, 
 
 its double and triple rhymes, 26. 
 Forman, H. Buxton, quoted on the 
 
 sonnet, 146. 
 Formulation of impressions, 133. 
 
 Garnett, Richard, note by, on Mil- 
 ton's sonnet ' To Mr. Lawrence," 
 169. 
 
 George, A. J., note by, on Words- 
 worth's ' Afterthought," 169. 
 
 'Gertrude of Wyoming," Campbell's, 
 108. 
 
 Goethe, quotation on literary form, 
 from Eckermann's ' Gesprache 
 mit Goethe,' 149. 
 
 'Gorboduc' (or, 'Ferrex and Por- 
 rex'), first English tragedy in 
 blank verse, 189. 
 
 Gray, Thomas, 4. 
 
 Grimoald, Nicholas, his blank verse, 
 188, 189. 
 
 Guest, Edwin, quoted on stanza of 
 Prior's ' Ode on the battle of 
 Ramillies," 130. 
 
 Harmony and rhyme, the fusing and 
 combining agencies of the stan- 
 za, 21, 22. 
 
 Haydon, R. B., Wordsworth's son- 
 net to, 152. 
 
 Hood, Thomas, the double and 
 triple rhymes of his ' Bridge of 
 Sighs,' 30; his sonnet on ' Silence,' 
 160-162. 
 
 Howard, Henry, Earl of Surrey, 
 
 introduced the sonnet into Eng- 
 lish literature, 183 ; his blank 
 verse, 188. 
 
 ' Hudibras,' Butler's, 23. 
 
 Hughes, John, quoted on Spenser's 
 stanza, 88, 89. 
 
 Hunt, Leigh, his gallery of pictures 
 from Spenser's ' Faerie Queene,' 
 104-106. 
 
 Italian female rhymes, 99, 100. 
 ' In Memoriam,' Tennyson's, stanza 
 of, 70-77. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his ' Essay on 
 Milton's versification," 35-40 ; con- 
 founds harmony with uniformity, 
 
 38. 
 Jonson, Ben, stanza of elegy in his 
 ' Underwoods,' 70. 
 
 Keats, John, his use of Spenser's 
 stanza, 120-125. 
 
 Keightley, Thomas, notes by, on Mil- 
 ton's sonnets, 155, 157, 167, 168. 
 
 King James"s Bible, alliteration in, 
 16. 
 
 Latham"s method of metrical nota- 
 tion, 4. 
 Literary culture, true aim of, 133. 
 Longfellow's Dante sonnets, 153, 
 
 154. 156. 
 
 ' Lotos Eaters,' Tennyson's, Spen- 
 serian stanzas of, 132. 
 
 Lowell, J. R., quoted on the alex- 
 andrine of Spenser's stanza, 93, 
 94; on the pictorial character of 
 the ' Faerie Queene,* loi. 
 
 ' Lycidas,' Milton's, epilogue of, an 
 ottava rima, 91, 92. 
 
 Macaulay, T. B., quoted on Milton's 
 sonnets, 172.
 
 '30 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Marlowe, Christopher, his blank 
 verse, 189-191. 
 
 Masson, David, quotation from his 
 essay on ' Drvden and the litera- 
 ture o( the Restoration,' 107 ; note 
 
 W. 154- 
 
 ' Maurice, To the Rev. F. D.,' Ten- 
 nyson's, its stanza, 84, 85. 
 
 Melody, the fusing agency of a verse, 
 4 ; examples of, 5-8 ; consonantal, 
 9-18. 
 
 Metre.effects produced by variations 
 of. 32-34. 
 
 Michelangelo, referred to as a son- 
 neteer, 144. 147. 
 
 Milton, John, Dr. Johnson's stric- 
 tures upon his blank verse, 35-40; 
 his use of exceptional feet, 44-46; 
 perfection of his verse due some- 
 what to his blindness, 46 ; epilogue 
 to his ' Lycidas,' an otlava rttna 
 stanza, 91, 92; the sunza of ode 
 ' On the morning of Christ's nativ- 
 ity,' 136, 137 ; of his elegy ' On the 
 death of a fair infant,' 138 ; son- 
 nets: 'To Cyriac Skinner,' 151; 
 ' When the assault was intended 
 to the city," 154, 155 ; ' On his be- 
 ing arrived at the age of twenty- 
 three,' 157 ; * On the Lord General 
 Fairfax at the siege of Colchester," 
 166, 167; 'To Mr. Lawrence,' 169, 
 170; * To the Lord General Crom- 
 well, May, 165a,' 171; eulogy on the 
 I .'ird General Fairfax, 166, 167 ; his 
 bl.mk verse, 193-2^0 ; its two grand 
 features, 193; the variety of its 
 pauses, 194. 195; examples of the 
 several kinds of pauses or stops, 
 196-aio ; examples of verse groups 
 (mm the   Paradise Ix)St,' aia-ai8. 
 
 ' Monk's Tale,' Chaucer's, example 
 
 of kianza of, 9a, 93. 
 Monosyllabic words, their use in ex- 
 
 pressing strong passion, 43 ; ref- 
 erences to illustrative passages in 
 Shakespeare's Flays, 43. 
 ' My Sister's Sleep,' D. G. Rossetti's, 
 stanza of, 70. 
 
 ' Ode on the Passions,' Collins's, a 
 good rhyme study, 23-25. 
 
 ' Ode to a Skylark,' Shelley's, stanza 
 of, 139-141. 
 
 Ottava rima, used in Fairfax's 
 I I asso, 90, 91 ; m epilogue to 
 Milton's 'Lycidas,' 91, 92; in 
 Byron's ' Don Juan," ' Beppo,' 
 ' Morgante Maggiore," and ' Vis- 
 ion of Judgment," 92. 
 
 ' Palace of Art,' Tennyson's, its 
 stanza, 81-84. 
 
 Pattison, Mark, quoted on Milton's 
 sonnets, 171, 172; on the normal 
 type of the sonnet, 174, 175; on 
 Milton's distinction in the history 
 of the sonnet, 183-185. 
 
 Petrarch, referred to as a sonneteer, 
 144, 147. 
 
 Pictorial adaptedness of the stanza 
 of Tennyson's ' Palace of Art,' 80- 
 83; of Spenser's stanza, 100-106. 
 
 Po|>e, Alexander, quoted on picto- 
 rial character of the ' Faerie 
 Queene,' loi ; an alexandrine 
 verse of, 138. 
 
 Prior, Matthew, stanza of his ' Ode 
 on the battle of Ramillics,' 139; 
 Dr. Johnson's opinion of it, 139. 
 
 ' Purple Island,' Phineas Fletcher's, 
 stanza of, 134, 135. 
 
 Reading, a condition of good, 49. 
 ' Revolt of Islam,' Shelley's, the 
 
 stanza of, 111-117. 
 Rhyme, a combining agency of the 
 
 stanza, aa; definition of, aa; ar.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 231 
 
 enforcing agency of the individual 
 verse, 23 ; the emphasis imparted 
 by, illustrated, 23-25 ; Byron's use 
 of double rhymes, in ' Don Juan,' 
 26-29; Shakespeare's use of, 30, 
 31; examples of Italian female 
 rhymes, from Ariosto, 99, 100; 
 Warton, Beattie, and Christopher 
 North, quoted on English rhymes, 
 99, 100. 
 
 Rhythm, defined, 2. 
 
 Robertson, Rev. F\ W., quoted, on 
 worldliness, 162. 
 
 ' Roderick," Southey's, the blank 
 verse of, 222. 
 
 Rossetti, D. G., stanza of his ' My 
 Sister's Sleep,' 70. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter, his ' Don Roder- 
 ick,' 108. 
 
 Selden's ' Table Talk,' passage from, 
 on verse, 18. 
 
 Sestet of a sonnet, its function, 158. 
 
 Shakespeare, examples from, of 
 melody, 5, 8 ; his use of allitera- 
 tion, 14, 15 ; of reiterated rhyme, 
 30, 31 ; exceptional feet in his 
 verse, 51-56; his Sonnets, 179- 
 182; blank verse, 191; passages 
 referred to, in his Plays, illustrat- 
 ing the progressive stages of his 
 blank verse, 191, 192. 
 
 Shelley, P. B., his use of Spenser's 
 stanza, in his ' Laon and Cythna ' 
 and 'Adonais,' 111-120; stanza 
 of his ' Ode to a Skylark,' 139-141 ; 
 blank verse of his 'Alastor; or, 
 the spirit of Solitude,' 222, 223. 
 
 Shenstone's ' Schoolmistress,' 108. 
 
 'Sohrab and Rustum,' Matthew 
 Arnold's, blank verse of, 223, 224. 
 
 Sonnet, The, treated, 143-185; diffi- 
 culties of its composition, 145, 146 ; 
 its structure, 146; its rhyme 
 
 schemes, 147; sonnets variously 
 irregular, 158-175. 
 
 ' Sonnets from the Portuguese,' Mrs. 
 Browning's, 175-179. 
 
 Southey, Robert, varied metres of 
 his ' Curse of Kehama,' 32 ; the 
 blank verse of his ' Roderick,' 222. 
 
 Spenser, Edmund, his use of allitera- 
 tion, 13 ; of exceptional feet, 41- 
 43; his stanza treated, 87-107; 
 examples of his melodious mar- 
 shalling of words, 87, 88; the 
 Italian ottava rima, not the basis 
 of his stanza, 88, 89 ; his indebted- 
 ness to Chaucer for his stanza, 
 92 ; its pictorial adaptedness, 100- 
 106; its employment by subse- 
 quent poets, 108-133 '< '*s influence 
 on other modes of stanza struc- 
 ture, 134-142 ; his • Amoretti,' 182, 
 183. 
 
 Stanza, defined, 21 (note). 
 
 Symonds, John Addington, his esti- 
 mate of Marlowe's blank verse, 
 189 ; quotation from, on the secret 
 of complex and melodious blank 
 verse, 219. 
 
 Tasso, Fairfax's translation of his 
 ' Jerusalem Delivered,' 90, 91 ; 
 referred to as a sonneteer, 144, 
 147. 
 
 Taylor, Sir Henry, quoted on blank 
 verse, 221. 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred, examples of the 
 melody of his verse, 5, 6, 7 ; his 
 use of alliteration, 16-18 ; exam- 
 ples from his ' Morte d'Arthur' 
 of exceptional feet, 43, 44; from 
 his ' Princess' and ' Idylls of the 
 King," 56-68; the stanzas of 'In 
 Memoriam,' 'The Two Voices," 
   The Palace of Art,' ' The Daisy." 
 and ' To the Rev. F. D. Maurice,"
 
 112 
 
 mDEX. 
 
 analyzed, 69-86 ; his use of Spen- 
 sor's suinz.i. 111 ' Luios Eaters," 
 13a ; blank verse in his ' Princess ' 
 and ' Idylls of the King,' vj\ 
 
 Thomson, James, his use of Sjjen- 
 scr's stanza, in 'The C;isile of 
 Indolence,' 109-111. 
 
 TodhuntLT.John, quoted on Shelley's 
 use of Spenser's stanza, iia. 
 
 Tomlinson, Charles, quoted on the 
 structure of the sonnet, 148; on 
 Wordsworth's sonnets, 151, 152; 
 on sonnet ' To Catherine Words- 
 worth,' 168. 
 
 Trench, R. C, quoted on the son- 
 net, 144, 145. 
 
 Triple rhymes, 29, 30. 
 
 ' Two Voices, The," Tennyson's, its 
 stanza, 78. 
 
 Unifying action of feeling, i. 2. 140. 
 
 Variety of measures, examples of, 
 
 51-68. 
 ' Vision of William concerning 
 
 Piers the Plowman," alliteration 
 
 of. 13. 
 Voice, a well-cultivated, required 
 
 for the appreciation of poetic 
 
 forms, log. 
 Vowels as an element of melody, 
 
 18. 
 
 Waller, Edmund, Dryden's estimate 
 of his verse, 106, 107. 
 
 Warton, Thomas, quoted on Spen- 
 ser's stanza, 99; note by, on Mil- 
 ton's sonnet to Cromwell. 171. 
 
 Watts, Theodore, 'The Sonnet's 
 Voice,' by, 144. 145. 
 
 Wilson, Prof. John (Christopher 
 North), quoted on English 
 rhymes, loo. 
 
 Wordsworth, William, varied 
 metres of his ode on ' Intimations 
 of Immortality,' 32-34; sonnets: 
 'To R. B. Haydon. Esq.,' 152; 
 ' The world is too much with us,' 
 »5S. 156; 'A Poet I he hath put 
 his heart to school,' 159; 'Most 
 sweet it is with un-uplifted eyes," 
 160; 'Milton,' i6a, 163; 'O 
 Friend ! I know not which way I 
 must look," 163, 164; 'To Cath- 
 erine Wordsworth,' 167, 168; 
 ' Afterthought,' 169 ; ' Thought of 
 a Hriton on the subjugation of 
 Switzeriand,' 173, 174; letter to 
 Alexander Dycc on the sonnet, 
 164, 165; blank verse of ' Vew 
 Trees,' ' Lines com|x>scd a few 
 miles above Tintem Abbey,* 
 'Nutting.' 'Michael,' 'The Prel- 
 ude,' and ' The Excursion,' aaa.
 
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