fijL &J? &i~f*' / \ > i S//**.*^'^2*K v,r* //. #***. THE MUSIC, OR MELODY AND EHYTHMUS OF LANGUAGE, #C SfC SfC. THE MUSIC, OR MELODY AND RHYTHMUS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE; IN WHICH ARE EXPLAINED, AND APPLIED TO THEIR PROPER PURPOSES, ON PRINCIPLES NEW IN THIS COUNTRY, THE FIVE ACCIDENTS OF SPEECH, viz. ACCENT, QUANTITY, EMPHASIS, PAUSE, AND FORCE, OR QUALITY OF SOUND, ILLUSTRATED WITH SYMBOLICAL MARKS, MUSICAL NOTATION: By which are Exhibited, and may be perpetuated, The True Cadence, Metre, and Rbythmus of the English Language; the Rational mode of Scanning Poetry by Cadences as it ought to be Read, and not by the Rules of Prosody ; the Tune and Time of Composition, and the Correct manner of Reading and Speaking. TO WHICH ARE ADDED, Outlines of (Bzstmz, AND A SELECTION OF PIECES IN VERSE AND PROSE. SECOND EDITION. By the Rev. JAMES CHAPMAN, M AUTHOR OF " THE ORATOR," AND TEACHER OF THE SCIENCE AND PRACTICE OF ELOCUTION, EDINBURGH. Est aittem in dkendo etiam quiQam cantus. cic okat. EDINBURGH : Printed by Michael Anderson, FOR MACREDIE, SKELLY, AND CO., 52, PRINCE'S STREET j J. BRASH AND CO. GLASGOW,' LONGMAN AND CO. AND T. AND G* UNDERWOOD, LONDON, 1819. ?NA C4'1 CONTENTS- Pag* Introduction, ... xiii CHAP. I. Music, its Division into Sound and Measure, or Melody and Rhythmus, ... ... X Definition of Music when applied to Song, and to Speech, 2 Division of the Organs of Speech, into Vocal and Enunciative, ib. Accurate knowledge of these, Indispensable to the correct teaching of the art of Reading and Speaking, ... ib. Vocal and Enunciative Organs, how distinguished their uses, ... ... ... ... 3 The Organs, collectively, considered as a Musical Instru- ment, ... ... ... ... ... ib. Speaking by Rote and Singing by Rote, ... ... 4< Accentual Slides, among the Greeks, posterior to the days ofHomer, ... ... ... 5 Effects of good Speaking and good Music, ... ... ib. CHAP. II. The Five grand Accidents of Speech, ... ... 6 Accent restored to its True meaning, ... ... ib. 069 VI CONTENTS. Page Appogiatura in Music, how applied in Speech, ... 7 Misapplication of the Appogiatura, ... ... ... ib. CHAP. III. Quantity, what, its use in Syllables, Cadences, and Pauses, 8 Quantity subservient to Rhythmus, ... ... ... ib. Metre, its business with regard to Quantity, ... ib. Eight Degrees of Quantity ; its Notation, ... ... 9 An Etonian, an Oxonian, a Cantabrigian, or a Wintonian measure of Syllables, inadmissible in English Rhythmus, 10 The Meagre Quantity allowed by Commentators, Proso- dians, and Grammarians, to the Greek and Latin Lan- guages, ... ... ... ... ... ib. No well regulated Language can be limited to a Time and half a Time in its Quantity, ... ... ... ib. The gross mistake in supposing that Quantity governs Rhythmus, ... ... ... ... II How Prosodians may be taught, that their Two degrees of Quantity, are in reality Eight degrees, ib. We should not deny what we do not understand ... 12 CHAP. IV. Pauses, their Notation, ... ... ... ... ib. All pauses in Speech measured, as well as in Music, ... ib. Pauses, in Cadence, of equal importance with notes of Sound, ib. CHAP. V. Emphatical Divisions of all Speech, causes of this, ... 13 Grand distinction of Emphasis into Thesis and Arsis, ... ib. Origin of Common and Triple Time in Music and Speech, 14? Symbolical Marks for Degrees of Emphasis, ib. Elocutionary Grace destroyed, Impediments acquired by attempts to counteract the Thesis and Arsis, or Pulsa- tion and Remission, ... ... ... J5 CONTENTS Vll Page Thesis and Arsis overlooked, or misunderstood by Com- mentators, Prosodians, and Grammarians : one Solitary- Exception, ... ... ... ... 16 Two Syllables under Thesis cannot be pronounced without a Pause or Remission between them, ... ... ib. Examples of Thesis and Arsis differently arranged, ... 17 Heroic Lines, their number of Cadences, ... ... 18 Thesis, to what syllable it belongs in a Cadence or Bar, ... 19 Emphasis of Cadence, and Expression of Loudness, not Equivalent Terms, ... ... ... ib # Pauses and Syllables of equal value in Rhythmus Examples, 20 Elision often destructive of Pronunciation, Cadence and Rhythmus, ib. Difference between Scanning and Reading the Classics, ... 21 Scanning by the Rules of Prosody destructive of our finest Classical lines, ... ... ... ... 22 Moderns, ignorant of the ancient mode of pronouncing the Greek and Latin Languages, ... 23 Absurdity of Scanning English verse with Greek and Latin feet, 24 CHAP. VI. Force or Quality of Sound distinct from Rhythmical Pulsa- tion, ... 25 Force or Quality occasional, Rhythmical Pulsation alternate, ib. Thesis and Arsis, improperly called by Musicians accented and unaccented, ib. CHAP. VII. Rhythmus defined, its division into Common and Triple Time, 26 Metres, how diversified, ... 27 Lengths of Poetic lines, no necessary part of Rhythmus,... ib. Polysyllables, how affected to the Heavy and the Light 28 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAP. VIIL Page Cadence, what, and how divided 29 Cadences must begin with a Heavy Syllable, or a Pause,... ib. Cadences divided into Common and Triple Time ib. Quantity, or duration of a Cadence, at the pleasure of the Composer, 30 How quantity may be subdivided ib. Measure in which a parish clerk announces the Psalm, 31 Metre, or Measure, what, ib. How all Rhythmical sounds ought to be divided ib. Examples of Heroic Lines in Six and Eight Cadences ... 32 Scanning by Greek Feet, which excludes Pauses, destruc- tive of Rhythmus ... ... 3% Cadences which have most grace and dignity ... ... ib. Distichs in Triple Time ... ... $4 English Sapphics, Triple Time 35 Quality of Cadences ; those admissible, those inadmissible, 38 Various qualities of Cadences, ... ... ... 39 CHAP. IX. Accurate knowledge of Syllables, how necessary ... ... 41 Stiffness, affectation, and pomposity in Reading and Speak- ing, how acquired ... ... ... ... 42 Necessity of great accuracy in acquiring the Elements of Speech, ... ... ... ... ... ib. A great and common mistake, that though Teachers cannot pronounce correctly, they can instruct others to do so, ib. How Syllables differ from one another : Hints to Teachers, 4? CHAP. X. Distinction between'Prose and Verse, ... 46 Cadences of Prose and Verse marked, ... ... ... 47 CONTENTS. IX CHAP. XII. Page Measuring Prose and Verse Change of Time or Rhytli- mus Common and Triple Farther illustrations of the inutility of Greek Feet in the measuring of English Verse, ... ... ... ... ... 4S Words marked with proper Accent, Quantity and Emphasis, with the names of Greek Feet according to their Quan- tities, ... ... ... 56 CHAP. XIII. Verses measured by this System, as they should be read, contrasted with the mode of scanning them by the rules of Prosody, by which we never read 65 Reformation of Prosodians, not the only object of this Work, ... ... ... ... ... 72 Syncopizing, or destroying Milton's fine verses by instinct and imperceptibility, ... ... ... ... 75 Swift's doggrel lines sufficient authority for barbarizing Mil- ton's Poetry, ... ... ... 77 CHAP, XIV. Various passages selected as Exercises to be marked with Thesis and Arsis, or Pulsation and Remission, ... 78 CHAP. XV. Exercises to be marked with Thesis and Arsis, Pause, and Rhythmical Cadences, ... ... 85 CHAP. XVI. Exercises to be marked with Thesis and Arsis, Bars or Ca- dences, and Quantity, ... 98 b CONTENTS. CHAP. XVII. Page Exercises to be marked with Thesis and Arsis, Bars or Ca- dences, Quantity and Accent, ... Ill CHAP. XVIII. Exercises to be marked with all the Accidents of Speech, 128 Force or Quality of Sound, when applied, ... ... ib. Degrees of Walking Measure, how applied to Speech, ... ib. CHAP. XIX. Exercises on the preceding rules, ... ... ... 137 Reasons why Verse should be read before Prose, ib. CHAP. XX. Sacred Pieces in Prose and Verse, *.. ... ... 15% Directions how the Scriptures ought to be Read, ib. Moses' Song, ... ... 154 Habakkuk, Chap. 3d, 159 Matthew, Chap. 5th, 163 The Ten Commandments, 165 The Lord's Prayer, marked with Pauses and Rhythmical Cadences, ... ... ... 168 Psalm 1st Paraphrased, ... ... ib. The Hundred Psalm marked with the Pauses, Emphases, and Rhythmical Cadences, ... ... ... 170 A Hymn, ... ... ... ... ... 171 A Paraphrase, with Pauses, Emphases, and Rhythmical Cadences, ... ... ... ... ... 172 A Paraphrase, ... ... ... ... ... 174 A Paraphrase, ... ... ... 176 The Dying Christian to his Soul, with Pauses, Emphases, and Cadences, ... ... ... Pope, 178 CONTENTS. Xl The Scale of Reading, Modulation of Voice, Outlines of Gesture, CHAP. xxr. Page ISO ib. ib. SELECT PIECES IN VERSE. From the Bride of Abydos, ... Byron. Lines written on Visiting a Scene in Argyleshire, Campbell. Azim's Entry to the Palace of Mokanna, Moore's Lalla Rookh, Zelica and Azim's Death, Hope the Friend of the Brave, Ode to Harmony, Medora's Song, The parting of Conrad and Medora, The Death of Selim, On Death, Monody on the Princess Charlotte of Wales, On the Death of Mozart, The Spirit of Music, Song, ... Song, Speech of Brutus against Caesar, Henry V. before Harfleur, Satan calling the Fallen Angels, Satan's Soliloquy, Hohenlinden, The Exile of Erin, Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn, The Seasons, a Hymn, SELECT PIECES IN PROSE. On Delivery, The comparative Merit of Homer and Virgil, Ibid. Campbell* Anonymous, Byron Ibid. Ibid. Young. Campbell. Anonymous. Moore's Lalla Rookh. Ibid. Ibid. Shakespeare, Ibid. Milton. Ibid. Campbell. Ibid. Milton. Thomson. 184 185 187 189 190 191 193 19^ 196 197 199 201 207 205 206 208 211 212 214 217 219 221 223 Blair. 226 Ibid. 228 -Xll CONTENTS. Sense, Taste, and Genius distinguished, The Funeral of Maria, The Patriot Soldier, Pulteney on reducing the Army, Mr Walpole against Mr Pitt, Mr Pitt's Reply, ... On Religion, ... ... The Accomplished Preacher, Page Usher. 230 Mirror. 233 Doyle. 236 238 243 244 Reybaz. 247 Itoscoc. *J4S INTRODUCTION. The following Synopsis of the Music, or Melody and Rhyth- mus of Language, is published principally with the view of facilitating the improvement of the author's pupils. A re- gularly digested plan, as much simplified as possible, is in- dispensable, in order, successfully, to communicate instruc- tions to the young. On the present system no such plan has appeared. Not only from the minuteness and peculiar ac- curacy and attention, which this mode of teaching requires, but especially from the misapplication of many of the Pro- sodial and Elocutionary terms made use of here, as employ- ed by our Commentators, Prosodians and Grammarians, and their ignorance of others, notwithstanding all that has been written on the subject for many centuries, the following pages became still more necessary. This system is taken from Mr Steele's Prosodia Rationalise a work of great merit and ingenuity. I am convinced that if this book had been well understood, by teachers at least, it would not have been so long neglected ; because, when comprehended, it must carry conviction along with it. The intention of Mr Steele being to establish, upon the soundest philosophical principles, this fact, that the English language has the same accidents of speech, viz. accent, em- phasis, quantity, pause, and quality of sound, as the ancient Greek and Latin languages, he was necessarily led into controversy; and, in order satisfactorily to prove his pointy XIV INTRODUCTION. it was proper that he should go much deeper into the science of music, and all the minutiae of speech, than what is required in a system adopted entirely for instruction. Mr Thelwall, Professor of Elocution in London, is the only gentleman in Great Britain who teaches upon the^_ principles of the Prosodia Rationalis> with improvements of*! his own ; and I have every reason to believe, has justly met with that success from the public, to which he is entitled. His Illustrations of English Rhythnus are particularly valu- able, for the manner in which he accounts for the Pulsation and Remission^ or Thesis and Arsis of the Greeks. I have taken the liberty of drawing some useful hints from this work. I hope I have rendered the system, if not more complete, at least more simple, and easily comprehended, by illustrat- ing many of its intricate parts more minutely, accompanied with a greater variety of examples, than is elsewhere to be found ; to which are added, adapted exactly for instruction, a great number of exercises, marked with the different ac- cidents of language, as the progressive nature of the lessons may require ; proceeding gradually, and by easy steps, from the most simple elementary parts, to the complete develope- ment, and practical application of the whole system. In proving that we ought not to scan English verse with Greek and Latin feet, I have contrasted the mode of scan- ning, as practised by our most popular Prosodians, with the plan recommended in this system ; so that the pupil, as it were at one glance, may perceive the astonishing dif- ference. This new system, as it may be called, being only taught in London by the gentleman already mentioned, and never till now, so far as I know, attempted in this country, as one of its natural consequences is to render totally untenable the scanning of English verse by Greek and Latin prosody, it may possibly meet with some opposition, especially from INTRODUCTION. XV those, who, by learning and prejudice, are indissolubly wed- ded to that mode of measuring our language : A system, which, if mere age be entitled to veneration, has that claim in no small degree ; for it has been sanctioned by the learn- >ince the days of Quintilian ; and therefore, were it of any avail, may plead a prescriptive, though certainly not a legitimate right. I respect classical learning and literary men; and since the ancient Greeks and Romans, as well as their languages, are all dead, it is not my intention to be drawn into any comparative contest about them. I have no doubt, but that I should be quite overborne by the numbers and abili- ties of their champions ; for as nobody envies the dead, they have always on these occasions more friends than the living. Mr Steele has the following remark, the latter part of which I may apply here. " I made my request not to be drawn into any contest with the ancient Greeks and Romans. If it were possible for me to have a conversation with Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Demosthenes, Plato, or even Cicero, I should have no doubt of our general agree- ment in all these principles of Elocution : But as their com- mentators, from Qiiintilian down to our own days, have con- founded accent, quantity and emphasis, so as to make no ac- count at all of the last, though the most important of the three, I cannot agree to be tried by their laws, though I am very ready to submit to be judged by those of common sense, that is, by the judgment of the ears on our native language" It is to be hoped that the internal evidences are sufficient- ly strong to convince the candid and unprejudiced, that to measure our language as it ought to be read, preserving the proper accent and emphasis, the integral quantity of each cadence, and the complete rhythmus, instead of scanning it a mode, however, which seems to be daily gaining ground, *n such a manner as is destructive of all cadence and rhyth- mus, quantity and pause is certainly of some consequence. XVI INTRODUCTION. I have explained this system, as laid down in the follow- ing synopsis, to none who were not immediately convinced both of its truth and utility. But perhaps some of the Amousoi, though in other respects persons of genius and learning, may feel dissatisfied with the system, and attempt to cry it down, by endeavouring to show its inutility. How- ever inconsistent this conduct may be, should it happen, I will neither be surprised nor discouraged ; for we know by other instances among men, that it is not unnatural ; for, do we not see many who are less ashamed to expose their vices, than to acknowledge their poverty. But, while such are totally unqualified to judge of the cadence, melody, and rhythmus of music, they will not be very ready, it may be supposed, to obtrude their opinion with regard to the same accidents, when applied to language, where an equal degree of accuracy of ear is indispensable. But there is surely good grounds to presume, that what- ever attempts at opposition this system may meet with from the quarters above alluded to, it will receive the unqualified approbation of the fair. The study of music being almost universally thought a necessary part of their education, they will find no difficulty in easily comprehending this system, and consequently of perceiving its beauty and utility. And should they make the care of their nursery their principal amusement, as the best of them do, may we not expect to see the rising generation instructed by their mothers in the joint knowledge of letters and music ; and the typical marks of accent, quantity, emphasis, pause, and quality of sound in their proper meaning, added to their spelling books, which will then be a complete Gradus ad Parnasswn, and as fa- miliarly known as the alphabet. Then, if the Attic plant of literature should spring from the labours of these lovely instructors, it is surely not being too sanguine, to hope, that its branches may soon spread abroad, and its fruit at length be cultivated, not in our capital only, INTRODUCTION. XVli so justly famous for its genius and learning, but through the whole of our country, so much admired and celebrated for its education, its patriotism, its morality, and its religion. I am aware, that this system, by not being clearly under- stood by those who have no other means of judging it, but by the written words and symbolical marks, may be liable to misrepresentation. This difficulty, if it be one, is not pe- culiar to this plan it is found in all our pronouncing Dic- tionaries, nay, even in the most approved initiatory books that are put into the hands of children. We must learn the meaning of these marks before we can pronounce ac- cording to their directions; they are as dead as the printed letter, until they are enlivened by the human voice. But I never heard it said, that the symbolical marks used in our best pronouncing Dictionaries, and those so frequently em- ployed in the books of children, were of no use, because adults could not understand them without being taught, experience has proved them to be of the utmost consequence in facilitating instruction. This aptness to misunderstand this plan, may perhaps be increased in no small degree, by the previous misconcep- tion of our prosodial terms, and their consequent wrong application. I have, however, endeavoured to render the plan as plain and intelligible as I possibly could; and though it should not be completely understood by those who consult the dead letter only, this will be found, I trust, no good reason either to attempt to disapprove or condemn it. I have never found any difficulty in making my pupils easily comprehend it in such a manner, as completely to be con- vinced of its truth and utility. The medical student sees the origin and physical necessity of the Thesis and Arsis, upon which so much of the system depends, the moment it is pointed out to him ; though in the whole course of his studies, his attention was never be- fore directed to that important part of physiological science. XVill INTRODUCTION. The student who has made any progress in languages and philosophy, though his mode of scanning has been uni- formly classical, which, as was already mentioned, is, in al- most all cases, contrary to the nature of a cadence, destruc- tive of rhythmus, and consequently, the opposite to correct reading, yet with him I have never found any difficulty. Extremely little explanation convinces him, that quantity must always be subservient to rhythmus, and that scanning can only be of use in so far as it assists and directs our reading with accuracy; that measuring our verse by this system, the very soul of which is to direct us how we ought to read and speak, is not only consistent with the genuine harmony and melody of speech, but is, at the same time, established on the soundest principles of philosophical science, arising from the situation, and physical action and reaction of the enunciative organs. With younger, and less scientific pupils, it is easy to con- ceive that more time and minuteness of explanation are ne- cessary: But this difference is not peculiar in this case. The mind of the adult pupil, who has previously gone through a complete course of education, is in a very different state of preparation, having all his faculties developed and highly cultivated, to receive the principles of any art or science ; not to mention his great desire for improvement, and his assiduous application, when compared with the junior pupil between the ages of twelve and sixteen. And yet I have not found any of my pupils, who have gone through a proper course of study, who have not been able, with sur- prising facility, to comprehend and practise this system. But the advantage of this plan would be very limited, were its object only to show, how we are to measure our verses in contradistinction to the mode practised by proso- dians. It has much higher pretensions. Its great object is to establish a mode of teaching the art of reading and speak- ing hitherto unpractised, but in the single instance above INTRODUCTION. XIX mentioned. We at present, in almost all cases, read and speak by rote* nor is it possible to do otherwise, upon the system which is taught. " Read as I read, without any rea- son for it," though the general practice ought now to be laid aside. It is only fit for mere children. The leading design of the following synopsis, is to instruct us how we ought to read upon principle. The whole is re- gulated by scientific rules, which are founded in the very nature of the art itself. It does not stop short with merely giving a few general hints how particular tentences, or mem- bers of sentences in prose should be pronounced, and some lax, undefinable directions respecting the reading of poetry ; but applying the whole five accidents of language to their proper and natural purposes, marking exactly the pulsation and remission of the organs, and preserving entire the ca- dence and rhythmus of both verse and prose, by symbolical marks which are as simple as the words. By this means we are able to give every author his exact tune and time ; for these are a part, and as important a part of his meaning, as his words, and are always as various; we give distinctness of articulation, harmony of expression, and dignity, ease, and grace to the whole mode of delivery, on principles that can- not easily be mistaken. The Notation shows how every syl- lable ought to be pronounced, with regard to accent, quan- tity and emphases in their proper meaning ; and at no time, is any one of the five grand accidents of language used in- stead of another. In this way, it must be evident to every one, that we cannot read by rote, but by principle^ having distinctly before us reasons for every thing we do. The ad- vantages, however, will be better appreciated by an accurate perusal of the synopsis itself. But the mode of teaching the art of reading and speaking, according to the most approved authors, and as at present practised, is extremely different. From the ignorance un- der which they all labour, of some of the most important XX INTRODUCTION. accidents of language, and the palpable misapplication or' others, we have the following confused and jumbled system, laid down in books of high authority, and taught, in garbled portions, as may suit the taste or fancy of the teacher, with great assiduity. The following chaotic mass is neither ima- ginary nor overcharged, but will be found, with very little research, in various disproportioned fragments, scattered in great profusion over the pages of our most celebrated writer? on Grammar, Prosody, and Elocution. Accent is a sort of Proteus: At one time we hear of the accent of prose, at another of the accent of poetry ; applied to words of more than one syllable, accent means Thesis mono*- syllables have no accent at all : at one time we hear of the English accent, the Scotch accent, the Irish accent at ano- ther, accent supplies the place of quantity in syllables; w< are told to pause at certain places in reading ; no provision whatever is made for pauses in scanning though we are told to make pauses in reading, we are never told that their length must be regulated by the time in which the author has com- posed ; nor is it ever once hinted, that pauses constitute as important a part of rhythmus as sound : At one time quan- tity, such as they make it, is of considerable consequence at another, that it has little or nothing to do in English Prosody; at another, that it is excluded altogether: At one time, allowing quantity to be of such importance as to be en- titled to a time and half a time, for this grand reason, because Prosodians tell us, the Greek and Latin languages are mea- sured by this rule at another, introducing a third species which they call doubtful time; at one time, we are told that a Pyrrhic is a complete cadence or foot at another, that a spondee is nothing more; at one time, commencing a ca- dence with a syllable under Arsis, at another with a syllable under Thesis, just as it happens to suit the rules of Prosody measuring verse by one set of rules, and reading it by ano- ther, with the nature of which they arc totally unacquaint- INTRODUCTION. XXI ed ; at one time we are to read by the rules of Prosody, at another, we are not to do so ; at one time we are told that Prosody teaches the proper quantity and accent of syllables and words, and the measures of verses that quantity in prosody, means the length of syllables in pronunciation and almost in the same breath, that the quantity or length of syllables is little regarded in English poetry, which is en- lively regulated by their number and accent: At one time we are informed that metre, or measure, in English poetry, con- sists in the number of the syllables and the position of the accent (how very accommodating is this gentleman, Ac- cent !!! he is almost all things to all Prosodians;) at ano- ther, we find elision, synaeresis, syncope, and apocope em- ployed in cutting down, to a certain measure, some of the finest verses of our best poets ; -by every possible means we are directed to cram the lines of our Poets, such as Shake- speare, Milton, Thomson, Aitkenside, &c. within ten syl- lables, in order that we may have exactly five feet or ca- dences: and when we cannot do this, by all the means of cutting and mangling, we then, with marked reluctance, acknowledge " a redundant syllable,' 1 and of course a bad line. But I should never have done, were I to enumerate all that authors have written, and teachers, as may easily be supposed, have followed, on this important subject. With such a heterogeneous mass of indigested directions, is it possible to communicate instructions accurately, or to teach the same language on the same principles ? We find, as a natural consequence, the modes of teaching are as di- versified and absurd, as the directions of authors. Hardly will two teachers be found who teach upon the same prin- ciples, or who use the same books- Is it to be wondered at, then, there should be such a diversity in our reading the same identical words? For we find, from the vagueness and multiplicity of rules, as laid down by authors, and the modes of instruction, as followed by teachers, many of them men XXII INTRODUCTION. of distinguished merit and ability, almost an endless variety of ways in reading the same piece. Not to mention the indistinctness of articulation, the fre- quent gross defects of utterance, the diversity of pronun- ciation, and the excessive silliness and bad taste, of aping what is called the English accent, (which, by the bye, is be- come very fashionable,) such an accent, however, as was never heard to proceed from the mouth of a Mrs Siddons, or a Mrs Jordan, but which may be heard in all its perfec- tion from a Bond-Street lounger, or a haberdasher in the city of London some pronounce without marking their emphatic words or syllables, so as in the least to distinguish them from other words in the sentence ; some make every third or fourth word strongly emphatic some give so little force to their accented syllables, as hardly to distinguish them from others ; here I use accent and emphasis in the vulgar acceptation ; some pronounce the smaller words and particles with such rapid flippancy, as to escape notice altogether ; others make them of as much consequence as any noun or verb in the sentence; some pronounce every thing in a stiffj formal, pompous manner ; others reduce every author to the common standard of colloquial conver- sation; some pronounce in a uniform monotony; others drawl their inflexions to such an immoderate length, as to produce a species of song ; some make their inflections constantly acute ; others as frequently grave ;^-some read at the rate of three or four syllables in a second of time ; others go on with the rapidity of eight or ten syllables in a second ; some pronounce every thing in common; others every thing in triple time, without any respect to the Jmieand time of the author ; some regulate their pauses by the grossly absurd rule of grammarians, viz. one, two, three, four ; others stop only according to the imperious de- mands made upon them for supplies of breath ; some swell the voice at the beginning of every period, and gradually INTRODUCTION. XXlli lower it to the end of the sentence, throughout the whole of any piece of any given length ; others begin on some acci- dental pitch, which they regularly continue till the last word, which unfortunate word is so completely sunk as not to be audible, &c. &c. These diversities and striking peculiarities, and many more might have been mentioned, must happen notwith- standing all the talent and industry of teachers, while they follow the present system of reading and speaking by rote. It is not so in music, because every thing there is defined, and its use and importance ascertained exactly : nor can it be so in language, when the whole accidents of speech are as evident before our eyes as the words themselves. It can be demonstrated, that this system affords the best opportunities, not only for removing the defects of utterance, so very prevalent, but for curing Impediments, whether ac- quired, or what are commonly called hereditary. By not regulating our delivery according to a material part of this system, we destroy all distinctness of utterance, and all elo- cutionary grace ; by ill-directed efforts, attempting to pro- nounce contrary to the capabilities of the principal enun- ciative organs ; by endeavouring to counteract what nature has wisely established, the regular and periodical succes- sion of Thesis and Arsis, which, from physical necessity, must be alternate, in defiance of every effort on the part of the speaker ; but which, at the same time, may be so in- jured and impeded, or accelerated, in the proper dicsharge of their alternate pulsations, as to produce a species of arti- culation, if it deserve the name that cannot be understood ; ; by these, and similar causes, we give rise to almost all Im- pediments of speech. On the principles of this system, I have removed many impediments and defects of utterance, which were consider- ed irremediable, from the previous attempts that had been made, and the great length of time they had been establish- ed. I beg to be understood as claiming no merit for this ; XXIV INTRODUCTION. because any one tolerably acquainted with this system, might have clone the same thing* The merit, therefore, is in the system much more than in the person who applies it; " hon- our to whom honour is due :' I have already designated to whom it is due in this case. To the classical scholar, I have only to observe, that if he is captivated with the beauties of Homer and Virgil, while he scans them by the rules of Prosody, he will find, if he makes the experiment, that these beauties are a thou- sand times magnified and heightened, when he measure* the classics Ar such a manner as to preserve entire their in- imitable cadence, metre, and rhythmus. And it is to be hoped that the time is not far distant, when it will be not less an object of attention, and equally meritorious, to mea- sure our own language, and to scan Shakespeare and Mil- ton, by laws founded in nature, which preserve their true metre, cadence and rhythmus, and which give energy and grace, beauty and harmony, elegance and expression to their diction, as it is at present to measure the dead la?i- gnagcs, or to be able to scan, with rules by which we never read, the hardest passages of the Iliad or the iEneid. I would recommend to all grammarians and professors of Elocution, to acquire a little knowledge of music. Music and Grammar were, by the ancients, always taught together. They are of mutual advantage, and should never have been separated. I will not, though there is a most ample field for it, enter at present upon the many important purposes which would naturally be the consequence, if this system were brought into general use; but conclude with remarking, that if this were the case, the Elocution of our modern Orators, whether of the Pulpit, the Senate, or the Bar, and also that of our most celebrated Tragedians, might be transmitted to posteri- ty, as accurately as we have received the musical composi- tions of Corelli, Haydn, or Handel. THE MUSIC, OR MELODY AND RHYTHMUS or SPEECH. CHAPTER L MUSIC OF SONG AND MUSIC OF SIEECH DEFINED. THE IM- PORTANT USES OF THE VOCAL AND ENUNCIATIVE ORGANS POINTED OUT. PLAYING BY ROTE, AND SPEAKING BY ROTE DESCRIBED. Music, which is equally applicable to speech as to song, whether applied to speaking, singing, or dancing, is divided into two great branches, viz. sound and measure, which are commonly called tune and time ; instead of which words, it will suit my purpose better, to use the more classical terms of Melody and Rhytkmus, being more significant as generals, than the vulgar terms. A When applied to song, music may be defined, a series of sounds moving distinctly from grave to acute, or from acute to grave, by intervals , and always dwelling for a perceptible space of time, on one certain tone. But when music is applied to speech, it may be defined, the melody of speaking ; in this application, it moves rapidly up or down, not by notes, but by slides, in which no graduated distinction of tones, or semi-tones can be measured by the ear ; nor does the voice dwell distinctly, for any perceptible space of time, on any certain or uniform tone, except the last tone, on which the speaker rests or makes a pause. There are two grand classes of organs necessary to accomplish speech, viz. Vocal and Enunciative. These ought to be well understood by the Pro- fessor of Elocution, or his instructions will be inac- curate and ineffectual. The various purposes for which they are intended; the physical effects which their peculiar applications produce ; and, the im- portant phenomena they give rise to in human speech, by the action and reaction of some of the most material of these organs ; ought to be care- fully elucidated to the pupil : And great pains should be taken to render him perfectly familiar, by proper examples, with the manner in which their combined operations produce either vowels or con- sonants, syllables or words. The Vocal organs* are th 0SP , hy whfrh wp prndnrp 8 ^voluntary and tuneable sounds: They are chiefly the Larynx and Glottis . The Enunciative organs, are those by which we add to the vocal the specific and characteristic phenomena of literal and verbal utterance . The primary organs used here are, th e throat, palate, teeth , tongue, lips, and nostrils : There are others more remote, which may be considered as secon- dary. It must be evident, from these definitions, that an accurate knowledge of these organs, and the man- ner in which they co-operate in the production of language, is an indispensable requisite to every in- structor who would teach others the proper and scientific mode of reading and speaking. Without this knowledge, man, it is true, can be taught to speak and to read \ and perhaps it is well that it is so : But to be able to speak and to read, as we gen- erally hear these important offices performed, and to be able to do them well, are two things so obvi- ously different, that no illustration is necessary to point them out. The organs of speech, collectively, may be con- sidered as an instrument upon which we play every time we speak or sing. In order then, to play well, we ought to be intimately acquainted with the in- strument which we use. If we have no knowledge of its powers, how are we to employ them to ad- vantage ? If we are ignorant of the extent and variety of its compass, how are we to modulate its tones; or produce that infinitely diversified intona- tion of which it is susceptible ? Public singers bestow great pains to acquire a knowledge and command of their voice, although their object be only to please : But how few of our public speakers bestow any attention upon this the most important part of their art, although their great object is, or ought to be, not only to regulate the affairs of mankind, but to convince them of the things most essential to their true interests, to in- struct them in their most indispensable duty, and to persuade them to the performance of those things which are not only necessary for their happiness in this world, but for what is infinitely superior, their eternal welfare. Were it not that bad speaking is so very common, we should be as much disgusted with it in public speakers, as we are with bad singing at public ex- hibitions. How many performers of music have we, who, to superficial judges, play well, but who only play by rote, and are ignorant not only of the power of their instrument, but frequently cannot tell the key in which they are playing ? So it is with the gene- rality of speakers ; they speak and read by rote, and frequently are totally ignorant, not only of the wonderful effects which the instrument they use can produce, but of the proper management of its .simplest tones. Nay, we find some of those who play by role, and sing by rote, are proficients in practice, without knowing that those arts are capable of rules, and of very subtile analyzation, any more than a child of five years of age comprehends, or can ex- plain, how he stands and walks. Our pedestrian performers on the pipe and fid- dle, &c. are seldom farther advanced in the literate art of music, than Europe is in the musical part of language ; that is, unconscious of notes, or any scientific method, they are talking and playing by rote and by ear, or, in the more vulgar phrase, by air. There was a time when the Greeks, with regard to their language, were in the same situation ; for we are told accentual slides, or notes, were not used by them, till long after the days of Homer, Now, when an unlettered pedestrian performer, though perhaps of some fancy and considerable execution, meets with an inferior player possessed of the art by notes, it humbles the pride of his native talent, and he submits to the lettered man as his master. But what is the effect produced upon an im- proved, polite, and intelligent audience by this ex- cellent pedestrian, compared with the musician who excels in practice and in science ? There can, indeed, be no comparison. When a piece of music is properly played, or a speech properly spoken, the senses of the audience are immediately influenced, and carried along with the player or speaker, in whatever is the proper measure of his tune or his speech ; and it is worthy of remark, that the effect of this periodical im- pulse is more immediate and more certain in speech than in music ; in as much as we are all more per- fect in our understandings of speech than of mu. sic : many people are not musicians, but all use their tongues, and listen to the discourses of others. CHAPTER II. ACCENT EXPLAINED, AND RESTORED TO ITS TRUE AND ORIGINAL MEANING. Speech consists of the five following accidents, without a correct knowledge of which, accurate instructions in the art of reading and speaking cannot be communicated. 1. Accent. 2. Quanti- ty. S. Pause, or rest. 4. Emphasis, or Cadence. 5. Force, or quality of sound. First, Accent. It is acute /, grave \, or both combined v ~' /- ^ l in a variety of circumflexes. These are, in this system, restored to their true, original meaning, viz. the slides of the voice, and are called the accents or notes of melody. These notes or accents are totally distinct from force or want of force, upon any syllable or word ; nor have they any thing to do with emphasis, rhyth- mu^ metre or quantity. The accents are the essential constituents of that characteristic manner of speaking, which is so easily marked, and which so forcibly strikes the ear of the most common observer ; not only be- tween those, who, in different parts of the country speak the same language, but between all nations who articulate words as signs of their ideas, with- out the music of song. These accents, though ca- pable of being considerably diversified, all originate from three simple modifications of voice. The application of the accents must always vary according to the position of the words, whether in question or answer, in a suspended, or in a final pause. Besides these varieties, there is also a manner of gracing the notes, which, as in singing, is always at pleasure. This is done by what the Italians call the Appogiatura or supporter. As the quantities of these little notes, in music, are always taken out of the next note that follows, so it is in speech ; instead of a plain acute, we may use a little cir- cumflex grave-acute, thus \l, or sometimes acute- grave, thus /v ; and sometimes, instead of a plain grave, thus \, or thus V. It is said that this appogiatura, or grace-note, is also applicable to some particular syllables, and constitutes an essential part of the expressive har- mony of the best writers, and should never be su- perseded by the barbarous expedient of elision, either in printing or in utterance, practised so much by those finger-counting critics who scan by their eyes rather than by their ears. The syllable meant here, is that which is generally cut out by Prosodians. It is printed in italics in the following lines : Girt amzable a scene of pastoral joy. Covering the beach, and blackening all the strand. His genwine and less guilty wealth to explore. 3 The cock's shrill clanon and the echoing horn. Ungrateful offering to the immortal powers. But the appogiatura is in no way peculiarly ap- plicable to these vowels, or to any syllables that prosodians may absurdly cut out with elision, they are regulated by the next article, or accident of language, and not by accent. CHAPTER III. QUANTITY. The term Quantity, is appropriated to discrimi- nate the relative value of sounds in duration of time, being either the quantity of whole cadences, that is, it refers to the distinction of longer or shorter notes or syllables, or of longer and shorter pauses. It is, therefore, subservient to the caden- ces of rhythmus, as fractional or aliquot parts are to integers ; and it is the business of Metre, to ad- just the quantities of notes or syllables contained in each cadence or bar : Rhythmus is to keep, by its pulsations, all the cadences of an equal length. The time or duration, therefore, of every indi- vidual sound, syllable, or pause, is called its quan- tity, and may be marked longest tj, long , short y, shortest |, which, since the measures of time in music and in speech are the same, may be distinguished by the terms used in music, thus, a semibrief = 2 minims = 4 crotchets = 8 quavers. cj = = yyYY = im nil The method adopted in music for lengthening a note by a point or dot, is also used here, as a Cj. =Cj ? , a ? .= ?Y> a Y-=YI Long and short notes or syllables are the common component parts of all metres, of all cadences, under all kinds and species of rhythmus ; that is, each cadence under any species of either of the general modes, may be metrically subdivided into fractional or aliquot parts. The absolute quantity of every syllable, as to the positive time it requires, is to a certain extent lati- tudinary ; or we should not be able to speak faster or slower, and consequently have no distinction of rhythmus. Hence it is, that in delivery, we find no difficulty in giving to a trochee or an iambus, the same entire quantity with a spondee, &c. or 'vice versa, though differing in the proportions of their integral parts. When, therefore, the standard or preponderate cadences, are spondees, the whole measure will be stately and solemn, and the trochaic and iambic feet must have, in delivery, still without the least difference to their integral proportions, an increas- ed quantity. If the trochee be the prevailing foot, the cadences of that passage must preserve the E 10 same briskness of measure ; and the spondees, though still maintaining their syllabic equality, must be pronounced comparatively short. It must be evident, therefore, that syllables are not meted out by a Wintonian, an Oxonian, a Can- tabrigian, or an Etonian measure, according to any arbitrary standard of critical legislation ; but derive their quantities from the accidental association of their elements, and other independent circum- stances. The Greeks, we are told, gave rules for the long quantity equal to two times, and the short quantity equal to one time ; only two propositions in all. They sometimes admitted a third, which they called irrational : it was shorter than the long and longer than the short. It is mentioned by Meibomius Bacchius senior. But this distinction has been little attended to by prosodians, if not altogether over-looked. The English Language, notwithstanding all the efforts of Commentators, Grammarians and Proso- dians to reduce it to the standard which they have assigned to the Greek and Latin Languages, has at least eight different proportions of quantity, as explained at the beginning of this chapter. All these and more different proportions of time are employed either in syllables or pauses. And what- ever is either taken from, or added to, the pauses, is given to, or taken from the syllables ; so that all these various proportions may be necessary in well regulated language. 11 It is a gross mistake to suppose, as many do, that quantity governs rhythmus. The truth is, that quantity is as subservient to rhythmus as ma- terials are to the building of an edifice ; where it is the business of the workman to choose the materials that will fit, and not accommodate the size of the apartments to the dimensions of the bricks and stones. To a person not initiated in these degrees of quantity, but accustomed to consider all syllables as regulated by the rules of prosodians, it is proba- ble that he may deny that there is any such thing as eight degrees of it in our language, for this plain reason, because he cannot perceive them. But notwithstanding this want of the power of distinction in those who are unpractised in the art of reading, as here explained, these dis- tinctions of quantity are perfect ; and those who are versed in them, find no difficulty in accurately distinguishing them. We know that those who are entirely ignorant of music, when they begin to acquire it, cannot easily perceive the difference between a crotchet and a quaver ; yet the proportion of these notes are as two to one ; and they have still more difficulty in distinguishing the difference between a doted crotchet and a plain one, which are to each other as three to two. But these novices never think of doubting, much less of denying that such facts exist, although their ears are, at first, too obtuse to perceive them - 7 but they persevere, and by practice 12 come to find no difficulty, not only in discriminat- ing these, but even in being able to distinguish, nay, perform twenty-four, or thirty-two notes in a second of time. It has very properly been observed, that it would be unjust for any one to say, that there is no dis- tinct power of description in the language of Japan, for this special reason, because he did not under- stand it, and that all the words of that language sounded to his ears exactly alike. CHAPTER IV. PAUSE, OR SILENCE. Pauses may be marked semibrief rest |, minim rest w, crotchet rest r , quaver rest" 1 All measured rests or pauses are as significant in computation of time, and in value of place, re- specting cadence, or the heavy and light, as express notes of sound. If a syllable be too short, we may supply its deficiency by a pause ; by which means an iambus or trochee may answer to fill a cadence as well as a spondee. This, however, is only one of the many impor- tant purposes which rests or pauses serve in speech. CHAPTER V EMPHASIS OR CADENCE. All speech, prose as well as verse, naturally falls under emphatical divisions, which are here called cadences ; which will be afterwards more minutely explained. Our breathing, the beating of our pulse, and our movement in walking, make the divisions of time by cadences familiar and natural to us. Each of these movements, or cadences, is divided into two alternate motions, significantly expressed by the Greek words Arsis and Thesis, raising and posing, or setting down ; the latter of which, com- ing down as it were with weight, is called heavy, being the most energetic or emphatic of the two ; the other, being more remiss, and with less empha- sis, is called light. When we lift our foot, in order to walk, that motion is arsis or light ; and when we put it on the ground, in order to proceed, that act of posing is thesis or heavy. If we count every step or cadence which we make in walking, we shall find each of them consisting of, and sub-divided by, these txvo motions, arm 14 and thesis, or the light and the heavy ; and if we count only on every second cadence or step, which makes a pace, we shall find each pace sub-divided by four motions ; two of which will be thesis or heavy, and the other two arsis or light This division of the step by the even number two, and of the pace by the even number four, na- turally arises from the walk of a sound or perfect man. The halting of a lame man makes a pace divi- sible into six, instead of four ; that is, the thesis or posing of one of his feet, rests twice as long on the ground as that of the other foot ; consequently, in each pace of this lame walk, there will be one thesis of so much greater weight or emphasis than the other, that the second thesis appears, in compa- rison with it, to be light This whole pace is, there- fore, considered as one cadence, divided unequally into heavy, lightest, light, lightest. The following marks represent these degrees of poise. Heavy A, light /. lightest . . Here, then, are two general modes or measures of time. The first, wherein each step makes a cadence, and is divided by the even number two ; and the pace or double cadence, by four : and this in music is called common time, andante, or the measure of a march. The second, where the whole pace making only one cadence, may be equally divided by the num- ber six, as the double of three ; and is called tripk time, or the measure of the minuet or jig. 15 But it must be observed, that the two steps com- posing the pace of triple time, are so far dissimilar, A .. that one of them is composed by 3 + 1, and the other by 1 + 1; which diversity when slow, makes the graceful variety of the minuet, and when faster the merry hobble of the jig. The thesis and arsis, or heavy and light, pervade every language. They must always, from the very nature and conformation of the organs of speech, be alternate ; and are as independent of volition, as the beating of the pulse, or the ebb and flow of the breath. The reasons of this are so minutely point- ed out to the pupil, and illustrated by such appro- priate examples, as to render it perfectly obvious, and easily comprehended by any one of ordinary capacity. It is a demonstrable fact, that the primary causes of the destruction of all the graces of Elocutionary utterance arise from efforts to articulate, without proper attention to the laws of pulsation and remis- sion, or thesis and arsis. And this, in almost all cases, arises from improper modes of instruction. It is a fact equally incontrovertible, that with very few exceptions, all the causes of impediments of speech, under the various phenomena which they assume, may be shown to have their origin in a gross violation of these natural affections. To un- dertake, therefore, with almost certain success, the cure of impediments, the first and most indispensable 16 step, is to understand the peculiar structure of those organs of speech, which, by physical necessity, pro- duce this pulsation and remission. The thesis and arsis, and the powerful effect which they had upon articulated language, were well understood by the ancient Greeks, as the structure of their language evidently shows : but they have been entirely overlooked, or misunder- stood by all the commentators, grammarians, and prosodians, with the single exception of Mr Steele, the author of the Prosodia Rationalis, which appeared in 1779. This affection of heavy and light, when properly understood, demonstrates to all who can judge of language by their ears, the palpable absurdity of measuring verse by prosodial rules, which require a mode of pronouncing totally different from the manner in which the same reader pronounces a verse, either before or after he has scanned it. Such power have the thesis and arsis, from the physical situation and power of the organs, over articulated sounds, that we cannot pronounce even two heavy sounds in succession, without a pause or remission between them. It must be carefully remembered that these af- fections of heavy and light, or pulsation and re- mission, are totally independent of accent and quantity ; they are always alternate, unless cut off by rests or long-holding tones, without change of articulation. 17 Examples of Thesis and Arsis differently arranged. 1. A succession of heavy sounds, necessarily re- quiring a pause or rest after each, A r A r A r A r A r A r A r. 2. A succession of heavy and light alternately, or the pauses between filled up with light, which is the natural order, A .\ A /. A .\ A .\ A /. 3. A succession of light sounds /. /. /. /. /. 4. Light and heavy alternately .*. A /. A .* A .*. A .*. A /. A /. A /. A .*. A /. A The Thesis, or heavy, may be applied to such words as these ; love, live, leap, learn, hill, keep, A A A A A A lame, walk, man, hand, horse, &c. A A A A A The Arsis, or light, may be applied to such words as, we, ye, you, of, to, for, by, it, in, or, &c. Heavy and light are exemplified, in the natural order, in such words as these, dissyllables : favour, A/. honour, fervour, patron, matron, father, climbing, A .\ A .*. A .\ A .\ A .\ A .\ falling, running, better, matter. A .\ A ,\ A .\ A .\ Light and heavy on such dissyllables, as, prefer, .\A detest, relieve, molest, conceit, deceive, receipt, /.A .\A .\A .\ A .\ A .\A deprive, propose, reprieve, &c .A .\A /.A c IS Heavy, lightest and light syllables ; or 3-4 ; as, consecrate, designate, numerous, syllable, abro- A .. .\ A.. .\ A ... / A.. /. A .. gate, telescope, &c. Light, lightest and heavy syllables \ as, ac- quiesce, contravene, decompose, disbelieve, un- .. A /. ..A .*... A /...A derstood, reprimand, &c. . . A .\ . . A Lightest, heavy and light syllables, as develope, ..A .\ rejoicing, detested, convulsive, domestic, returning, .A/. ..A.\ .. A/. ..A/, ..A/. carousing, reporter, &c. . . A /. . . A /. It must be particularly noticed, that almost every syllable in our language, monosyllables excepted, is affected positively, either to the Arsis or Thesis, though some are of a common nature, and may be used with either. Our heroic, or ten-syllable lines most commonly begin with a syllable under Arsis ; and supposing a line to consist of five feet, or rather, according to this system, of five bars or cadences, of musical time, exclusive of rests or pauses, there will be half a bar at the beginning and half a bar at the end ; that is, it will begin with Arsis and end with Thesis. But sometimes the affection of the first syllable is so positive to Thesis as to oblige the measure of the line to begin with a whole bar ; for the beat or 19 Thesis constantly falls on the first note or syllable of the bar : but always some rests or pauses are ne- cessary, as being more agreeable both to the sense and to the measure ; so that, including the rests, a line of nominal^^^^, or ten syllables in words, occupies at least the time of six bars or cadences, as in the following example ; in which the syllable Oh ! is positively emphatical and under Thesis ; and the syllable our, agreeably to the sense in this ex- pression, is as positively remiss and under Arsis. Oh! A happiness r A . . /. our A/. being's end and A .\ A /. aim! A But it may be observed, that this emphasis of cadence, and the expression of loudness are not to be considered as equivalent terms, or affections of the same kind : for arsis or remiss may be loud or forte ; and the thesis or emphatic may be piano or soft, occasionally. The Thesis and Arsis being periodically alternate, whether expressed or sup- posed ; whereas the piano and forte, in speaking as in singing, are always ad libitum, or apropos. It may be proper here to show, that a line of heavy syllables, that is, where they are all under the affection of Thesis, has the same rhythmus, as when the pauses are filled up with a light syllable 5 20 My hopes, fears, joys, pains, all centre in you, /. A .\ A .\ A .\ A ,\ A/. A .\ .\ A and My hopes, k fears, & joys, & pains, all centre in you, 9 \ A .\ A .\ A ,\ A.\ A.\ A /. ,\ A are both of the same length as to rhythmus, and this may be proved by the swings of a pendulum, or the strokes of a time-beater. Were prosodians to attend to this, and, directed by their ears, acquire an accurate idea of rhyth- mus, we should not have so many of the best lines of our finest poets so shockingly mangled ; nor meet with such barbarisms as hoxfring for hovering ; dang'roas for dangerous : tit autumnal, for the au- tumnal : nor, in the sublime and perfect rhythmus of Milton, meet with such violences done to his finest lines as the following : tit omnipotent, for the omnipotent, tit etherial, for the etherial : tit Almighty, for the Almighty : Nor would many of the most beautiful lines of our best classics be de- prived of their peculiar excellence. I shall give an example or two from Virgil ; merely as a hint to my classical pupils. And I request them to observe, that determining Greek and Latin he- roics, such as the Iliad and JEneid, to be hexa- metre lines, excludes rhythmical pauses altogether. The followingline of the JEneid, set (by our marks for quantity and pulsation), strictly according to the Latin prosody, will be thus, in common time : 21 J YY ? Y Y ? J? .? ?. ?YY I?? Arma vi rumque ca no lro jse qui primus ao or is. A .'. A 77 A ,\ A .'. A .'. A/. Here, there is no room for variety of metre, nor a moment's pause even for breathing, the line being strictly confined to the six metres, or cadences, or, in the common phrase,/^. The above line is set according to the quantities prescribed by the rules of prosody ; it may be proper also to exhibit it, as it is generally scanned in our schools ; where, by making the last syllable of the dactyl longer than the first, in direct contradiction both to the rule and the real quantities, they turn dactyls into ana- pests. Y' 1? Y- 1 ? 1 J .? ?. Y-l ?, ?? Arma vi rumque ca no lro jas qui primus ab oris. A .-..-. A .-. .-. A A A A A .-. .-. A.-. Upon this and the three following lines of the iEneid, this remark will be found in the Prosodia Rationalis. " If I could meet with a living Virgil, I should ask him, why these lines might not be set in the following manner, in triple measure, still pre- serving the long and the short syllables, but with an extended variety of long and longer, short and shorter, and also with the proportion of triples and thirds, as well as of doubles and halves ? And if he gave me a better reason why they should not, than either the grammarians, or the commentators have done, I would certainly submit to him, and 22 copy his manner of pronouncing exactly, in accent as well as in quantity, which would most probably be quite new to all Europe." m H.X i t n Y' 1 Y I Y'Y } \ \ ! } V Arma vi rumque ca no, r <- 1 Tro jae qui primus ab oris 1 1 A ...-. A . . .-. A.-. a" .-. A.-. A...-. A.-. A.-. By reading the line in this manner, the rhyth- mus and the metre are preserved, and by the ad- dition of necessary rests for breathing-time, and for stops of expression, it becomes an octometre in- stead of an hexametre. How monstrously is the following line cut to pieces by the rules of prosodians. It is here set first according to these rules, and also according to the rules of this system ; and it will be found, that without any elision they are. both pronounced exactly in the same time, if re- peated to the swings of the same metronome, or pendulum. Let the distance of time between A and A be equal to one step of walking. Y- Y- Monst' hor Y' I Y Monstrum hor A .-. Y\, Y- rend in A form' in A .-. Y- 1: gens cui A .-. Y* r 1- lumen a A .. .-. d Y ' t Y ' demptum A .-. rendum in A . . .% Y'lY forme in A ...-. Y- Y' gens cui A .\ Y'l Y lumen a A...-. 1 t Y ' demptum A .-. 23 When the construction of a language depends on the termination of its words, elisions by which these terminations are concealed, must, to say the least of them, tend to render such a language obscure. But I have no doubt, that as good reasons can be given for elisions of the above kind, as for scan- ning verses, whether of the dead or of the living languages, in such a manner, as no good reader of either ever pronounces Nay, I have strong reason to suspect whether even a Prosodian can read ac- cording to his own rules. These are only two instances of thousands that might be given, of the absurdity that Commenta- tors, Grammarians and Prosodians have been teach- ing since the days of Quintilian the Rhetorician, who died A. D. 95. His Institutes of Eloquence were discovered A. D. 1415, in an old tower of a monastery at St. Gall, by Poggio Bracciolini, sl na- tive of Florence. But perhaps there would be very little harm, if these absurdities were confined to what are called the dead languages: for it is believed, that the moderns know no more of the manner in which Cicero and Demosthenes pronounced their lan- guages, than they know of the mode of pronounc- ing the language of Britain, in the time of King Alfred. But this very abstruse and most useful part of classical erudition has found its way, even for ages past, into our own language. Every initiator of children, must scan his own native tongue with 24 Greek feet : and many of them, not contented with teaching this most important part of grammar, they must write upon it also ; and cautiously copy all the blunders that the literati have handed down to them, with frequently not a few of their own. It is surely matter of regret, that this strange inconsistency should have been persevered in, from the days of Quintilian down to the last treatise which I have seen upon the subject of scanning, published in London in 1816, with the exception of the book I have already mentioned, viz. The Pro* sodia Rationalis. Were this book properly understood, this monstf hor\ with all his long irregular train of associates, would, huge as he is, be entirely rooted out of the deep, sacred recesses of our Universities, and other seminaries of learning. And then, in all proba- bility, our native language would be scanned as it should be ready and not according to the measure- ment of the ancient poetic feet But till accent, quantity, and emphasis, especially the last, as it is the most important of all, be clear- ly understood, not only as separate affections of speech, but as totally independent of each other, this is not to be expected. 25 CHAPTER VL FORCE OR QUALITY OF SOUND. The variety of soft and loud, or, according to musicians, of piano and forte, should never be consi- dered as a governing principle of rhythmus, because, though sometimes it may be accidentally coincident with rhythmical pulsation, yet it would be offensive if it continued for any considerable length of time ; for the application of the loud and soft, both in music and in language, either for use or ornament, must not be indiscriminate or periodically alternate, but as occasion calls for it : Whereas, the rhythmi- cal pulsation of A and /., or emphatic and un- emphatic, is regularly periodical and constant as the swings of a pendulum, but of itself implies no sound or noise at all. And agreeably to this, a band of musicians are much better governed in their measures by a silent waving of the hand, or of any thing that may catch the eye, than by the more noisy way of beating time with the foot. These affections of A and / were always felt in music, though erroneously called by the moderns accented and unaccented; the accented or heavy note, however, was never understood to be necessarily loud, and the other necessarily soft. Because if this D 26 were so, there would be no occasion for separate directions where to apply the piano and forte, in as much as the affections of heavy and light are con- tinued in every sentence of every air, from the be* ginning to the end : Whereas the forte and piano are often applied directly contrary to heavy and light I repeat it, as I wish it to be clearly understood, that the distinction of load and soft, must never* as is too often the case, be reckoned among the go- verning powers of rhythmus, though they may sometimes coincide with the heavy and the light, which are the only governing principles of it. CHAPTER VII. &HYTHMUS DEFINED- ITS POWERS AND USES TOINTED OUT. Rhythmus, as it signified with the Greeks num- ber, that is, the number of metres contained in a line or cadence, so it may signify with us the num- ber of cadences in a line or sentence ; but we shall use it as the general term under which cadence is a division, and quantity a subdivision. Rhythmus, then, in this acceptation, is divided into two general modes of time, common and triple, each of which is subdivided into specific differences of faster and slower ; consisting of cadences whose 27 inetres may be uniform or mixed, even or pointed. These diversities of uniform or mixed, even or point- ed, arise from the different manner of subdividing or disposing the quantities contained in the whole of each cadence or bar* For example, this cadence of common time Cj may be subdivided uniformly into - Y Y ? or thus, the two genera of com- mon and triple measure may > be mixed, - - ) YYVYY or thus, pointed, - - Y" I Y* I or thus, even, - - - IIIMIII or any other way, so that the fractions, being aliquot parts, shall altogether make up the whole quantity of the bar or cadence. The bar or cadence of triple measure may be subdivided in a similar manner. It must be observed, that rhythmus takes notice of no quantity less than that of a whole cadence. The lengths of verses, or lines of poetry, are no necessary constituent part of rhythmus; for, though every line should be composed of regular metres or cadences, yet the rhythmus will he good, whether the number of cadences in each line be equalized or not, as in the species of poems called Odes. But a line may consist of ten syllables, which, for want of the proper poize, that is, the thesis and arsis, or the proper quantities, cannot be reduced to metrical cadences, without great assistance from pauses, or changing the position of the words, and of course will not be a rhythmical verse. It is emphasis, cadence, or the poize of A and *. which 28 alone governs, by its periodical pulsation, that part of music and poetry properly called rhythmus. It may be remarked, that in the rhythmus of language, all polysyllables are affected to their poize of heavy and light so positively, and the poize determines the cadence, that nothing remains in doubt, except the difference between the fastest and the slowest speakers. This, however, is of no consequence, since every speaker, if he preserves the proportions demanded by the natural quantity and poize of the words, must adopt that measure of quickness which the poize of the words points out ; that is, he must allow himself time to mark the dif- ference between long and short syllables : For, as has been mentioned, a cadence must begin with A and end with /., the .. being only an inferior species of the light ; or, in other words, as every cadence begins with A, of course the whole of every cadence lies between A and A, as often as they occur. It is the office of rhythmus, aided by the influence of this instinctive poize, to regulate the whole dura- tion of every melody or movement, by an exactly equal and periodical pulsation, until it is thought proper to change the measure, for some other uni- form pulsation, either quicker or slower. CHAPTER VIII. CADENCE. The space of time between each pulsation and the next succeeding pulsation is a cadence or bar. The word bar, properly speaking, is only the gra- phical mark of the beginning and ending, or of the boundaries of cadences : Whereas cadence itself is an essence co-existing with articulate sound, the subject both of sense and intellect, totally inde- pendent of any mark on paper. Each cadence, as was already mentioned, must always begin with thesis, or a pause supplying its place ; and end with light, or a pause. If there be only one note or syllable which fills the whole ex- tent of a cadence, of course, that one note is at first heavy, and the latter continuance supposed light. If a cadence be subdivided into many notes or syllables, they are nearly divided under the se* veral degrees of emphasis of A, /. . . The whole time of a cadence or bar must be ca- pable of being subdivided by the number 2, the es- sential and distinguishing mark of the genus of common measure, or by the number 3, the essential mark of the genus of triple measure. o The whole quantity of the time or duration of a cadence, may, at the pleasure of the composer, be subdivided by metrical articulation, in sound or in silence, into any unequal fractional quantities of time, provided their sum, altogether, be neither more nor less than the integral quantity of the said cadence or bar. Something similar to the following example will be found in the preceding Chapter. Let the time of a whole bar be equal to 1 , then the subdivisions of other bars in the same piece may be J- + \ = J 4- l 4- X III j 1 - - _i_'l -L 2 2 \ jl 3 3 5 ~"~~ I 4. Tl 6 ' i 6 ' 6 3 ' 3 &c. the sum of each bar making always 1, And this diversity of division within a bar, is the subject of quantity. The division, as formerly noticed, of i- + J- is naturally governed by the andante, or walking cadence of a perfect man. The division of t + \ is the halting of a lame man, or minuet measure. And the & + T V + T V + * + tV+ A. or > as commonly marked by musicians -| # 5 equivalent to * The denominator 8, shews into how many parts a semi- brief is supposed to be divided, " and the numerator 6, the number " of these parts in the for;" and consequently that a bar of this measure contains only three quarters of a semibrief. If a semibrief represented any positive length of time, this rule of making it appear as a standard would have some useful mean- ing ; but as its length is only relative, it has little or none, and the figures 2 and 3 would be sufficient to denote all changes, of measure, and be more simple and more satisfactory. Prosodia Rationalis. 31 * +T-6+ tt + tt + tV + ft is the cantering of a horse or the measure of a jig. The procla- mation of a parish clerk, announcing the psalm, is in this measure : the natural rhythmus and metres of the words will admit of no other. 5 T C I 8 Let us i % t r. t sing to the praise and C-EC ^ glory of God ! n The integral division of a cadence is properly called its Metre, according to which its aliquot quantities are metrically computed and disposed ; that is, the cadence is either equally divided by the integral even number 2, or by the integral odd num- ber 3, which constitute the two general modes of metre or measure: These two being the first numbers possible that occur, for the division of any length into two parts, and the next possible division is into three parts. This division of all rhythmical sounds, by the multiples or subduples of 2 or of 3, is so strongly affected by our nature, that either a tune or a dis- course will give some uneasiness, or at least not be quite satisfactory to nice ears *, if its whole dura- tion be not measured by an even number of com- plete cadences commensurable with, and divisible, by 2 or by 3. For this reason, the judicious com- I * The last movement in the celebrated overture of La Buona, FigUuola, has this defect, and every nice ear feels it. Prosodia Rationalise 32 poser or orator, unless he wishes to offend the ears of his audience, will lengthen his piece with pro- per expletives, or with adequate rests or pauses, so as to make his periods duly commensurable. Whoever would pronounce our heroic lines of ten syllables with propriety, must allow at least six cadences, by the assistance of proper pauses to each line, and frequently eight : as in the follow- ing example. Not attending to this is one of the many reasons why we hear so much of our finest poetry wretchedly read and delivered, and the rhythmus of our most sacred songs totally destroy- ed. Example in Six Cadences. i Oh, A m T n M| } happiness ! r -Hour being's end and aim! A .. .\ A .-. A .-. J A .-. A .. The same line in Eight Cadences or Bars. "J m ? U H ? ^ Oh, happiness 1 r I our being's end and aim! i A A A.-. A .-. A .-. A .-. A.-. A Another Example in Six Cadences. r Tb n To en 3 3 J all in A .-. y-iy ten or Y- 1 Y, animals A- .-. r 'tis A.-. joy the A .-. ? Y state al A .-. Y'Y- lott ed A.% ? Y them by A .-. Y ? giv en, A.-. Y? heav en. A.-. S3 The following also, as well as thousands of lines that might be produced, distinctly show, that the method of measuring, or scanning English verses with Greek feet, without any allowance for pauses, is inaccurate and indecisive, and ought to be a lesson to those prosodians who are guided in the measuring of our finest verses, by their eyes rather than by their ears ; which they will find, if they make the experiment, to be as fallacious guides, when applied to the rhythmus of a poetic line, as they are when applied to the rhythmus of music. The following lines are set with the marks of rests, quantity, and cadence. It will appear that verses of jive feet consist of from 6 to 8 cadences ; and those off our feet generally consist of five caden- ces. Lines which consist of five cadences or metres, have less grace and dignity than those of eight. Y' Yl Daughter of A -.-. ? Y ? Y God and man, a ac A .-. A .-. A .-. Y ? comphsh'd A .-. Eve. r A.-. I Pleasures,! - the A.-. A .-. sex, r m as A. childrenjbirds purlsue. r j rj A.\ A .-. A.\|A.\ The following line set as pronounced by Mr Garrick: rong with A A.-. ? rage; a7. E Y " with A .-. Y; Yl? Y outoer flowing ? full, r ? Thou, r A .-. Y - When A .-. ? Y Stella, A.-. ? Y first, for A .-, 04 ? Y wast no A .-. ? Y longer A .-. thee, my A .-. lyre I A.-. ? r young, r A .-. ? r strung. r A .-. The three following distichs are all in triple time and jig measure, and the syllable more or less, at first, or at last, makes no difference in the rhyth. mus. i Y! Y- i Y r , From the knaves, and the A* A I JmX Y' I Yl Y* i Y fools, and the | fops of the A .. .-.A .. .% f time r 1 a .-. I Y 1 From the Y' IY drudges in A . . .-. m My I time, oh ye A .-. I A . . .\ Y- I Y prose, and the a .. .-. YY Y Muses, was A.. .\ triflers in I rhyme* 1 r A . . .v I A .-. happily a...-. spent, r ^ A .-. Y - When A .-. Y* I Y I Y' I Y Phoebe went I with me where Y- 1 Y ever I A . . .-. Y- went. r 1 A 1 It I Y If I e'er in thy A .-. I A . . .. Y- I Y sight I found A ...-. T l 1 favour, A A . . .\ Y? polio, A.-. Y - De A .-. Y' I Y fend me froi A from Y- I Y I Y' I Y all the dis I asters that A . . .*. I A . . .*. Y? follow, A.-. 35 In the application of the preceding rules to these and the following examples, the only endea- vour was to do justice to the proper measure of our language, without the least intention of adapt- ing them to the Greek prosody. ENGLISH SAPPHICS. Y- IY Place me in A . . . YY U regions 01 e a.. TT* Y Y ternal T A . . .-. YY r winter, r A . . .'. J IYf n YY 'J Where not a j blossom to the A ...-. . *-*-> I A., Y* Y breeze ~l can A . . .-. open ; r but A.. V 1 Y i Y Y Darkening > tempests r closing all a A. Y Y round me, i A Y' I Y Chill the ere YY ation. r Y* I Y Place me where A . a . Y Y Y Climes where no A , * .-. Y Y* sunshine "* A . . .-. M Y Y ever more me A . . .-. Y Y scorches, r A ...-. mortal r A . . .\ v- III builds his habi A ....... YY r tation; 1 A . . % 36 Y' I Y Yet with my Y Y charmer r . I A ... Xii 1 Ui fondly will I A .. Y Y wander f A . . .-. Y" ! Y Fondly con A . .*. YY versing. r Herries* Elements of Speech. THE SHIP OF HEAVEN. Y* Y i Swift thro' the Y* sky r the A.. .-. Y Y I J vessel ot the Y'Y Suras, "1 A .. .. Y: I Yl Y- i Sails up the I field r of iajk . . I JmA . Y i Y I ether like an Y'Y angel ; "1 A . . .\ y- Y I Rich is the Y- Y freight, n O vessel ! that thou YY bearest, r A.. .'. Y'l Y IYY Beauty and J Virtue. r A...-. A .. .-. Y' IY Fatherly A . . .-. ^ r 1 , cares, \ ana A % YY I I filial vene YY ' ration, r A . . .\ Y' Y I Hearts which are A .. .-. proved r and A .. .-. Y I Yl. strengthened by af A YY fiiction A.. . 37 Y'l Y Manly re A ...\ Y # Y sentment, 1 A .'. m \ Y'Y I fortitude and A../. .. YY r action, r A . . ,\ Y'i Y Womanl A . . .'. Y Y goodness. r I I Y 11 with which YY Nature r halloweth her Y Y daughters, r A .. .-. Y- I Y Tenderness, A . . .-. truth, r and A V. I, punty and A....... v y meekness, r p Y't Y I Y-.Y r Jri e ty, I patience, l A . . .-. I A . . ,\ faith, and res lg YY r nation, i A.-. Y- I Y I Y Y Love and de I votement. r A .. .-. A .-. Y; I Y Ship of the A .. .-. Y Y Y Y Y .Y YY , god ! r how richly r art r thou laden ! r A . . .. A .. .. A .. .-. A.-. Y- I Y Proud of the Y Y charge, T thou A . . .\ YIY I voyagest re A...\ .. .YY joicin A.-. Y* Y I Clouds float a A 38 Y- , I round, r to A . ..% honour thee, and A .. .-. .. T Y-I Y Lingers in A.. .-. even inj A . . .-. YY heaven. r A.% Southey's Curse ofKehama^ It must be observed, that two or more cadences may be compressed within the space called a bar j or there may be a bar at every cadence ; the bar, of itself, as already mentioned, being of no other use than as an eye-mark to the reader or per- former, to shew where some cadences are, by which he can easily observe t]ie others. At the pleasure of the composer, the space be- tween bar and bar may contain either 1, or 2, or 3, or 4, or 6, or 8, or 9, or 12, &c. cadences, which may be multiples of 2 or of 3, but whereof neither 5, 7, 11, 13, or any prime number, except the fore- going 2 or 3, shall be divisors or factors. This, however, may be considered, as more strictly ap- plied to music than to the rhythmus of speech :-r-be that as it may, the number S, being composed of the prime numbers 2 and 3, may be excepted, and is the only exception. Cadences may be either in common time, as, | Ye | hills and | dales, r | r ye rivers, | woods and plains r | 39 Or in triple time, as, | Where is the | mother that | look'd on my | childhood. r | The quality of Cadences are various. 1. The best cadences are those that are made up of two or of three syllables, that is, common or triple time ; and as the one or other of these pre- vail, it gives the denomination to the verse. 2. The next kind in excellence, and which may be called the Emphatic cadence, is when a cadence or foot is made by a single protracted syllable, be- ginning with Thesis and ending with Arsis ; for a cadence may have only one syllable or note, in the rhythmus of speech, as well as in music. Ex- amples of this are frequently to be found. It oc- curs in the following lines. In the first example the words sing and fate, constitute each a ca- dence. Arms and the I man I I sing, A .. .-. A .*. r**-* A.\ r who, r A .-. forc'd by A .-. fate. aT And the words hail and born in the following line : Hail, a7. ho ly A.-. light ! r A .-. offspring of I heaven first A . . .-. I A . . .-. born a^ 3. The next of inferior degree may be called 40 the accelerated cadence, or foot of four syllables, as, r The | admirable, | r the in | imitable | Poem of | Paradise | Lost r | is com | posed of | these r I three kinds, | r the last in | deed r | r is but | spar- ingly | used, r | r but | when it is, | r it is | placed in the | best r | possible ] station | r for the | rhyth- mus | r of the | line. 1 " | 4. The foot or cadence of 5 syllables, may be considered as a base foot for the reasons already mentioned. It is seldom found but in familiar con- versational prose, and is more generally the result of carelessness in the speaker, than from any necessity in the language, or even in the arrangement. I shall exemplify this in the following prose sentence. Pronounced in a careless indistinct manner, as, If die | mind be im | proved and | happily dis | posed, J every thing be | comes | capable of af | fording enter | tain- ment- | How different is it, when pronounced with di- stinctness of articulation, and in a grave didactic manner, as, If the mind r | r be im | proved and | happily dis | pos- ed, r | every thing r | r be | comes | capable | r of af | ford- ing | r enter | tainment. Monosyllables that are long or short, at discre- tion, as most of our monosyllables are, must be pro- 41 iiounced A or *. or . , just as the syllable with which they are combined may require, and the state of the organs will, at the time, permit. The progress of the voice, in the formation of the cadences, both in reading and in speaking, must be regularly perceptible from A to .*. without re- spect to the nature of the syllable with which the line may begin. For though the mode of marking the cadence may be discretionary, yet the alterna- tion is inevitable. Pause and emphasis may, and frequently do, in- crease the number of cadences, but they must never alter in any degree their proportion. CHAPTER IX, SYLLABLES. Without an accurate knowledge both of the quantity and quality of syllables, no distinct reading and speaking can be taught. There may be some things, I have no doubt, that it maybepossible to teach,if the instructor be well ac- quainted with the principles upon which they pro- ceed, although he cannot exemplify them : he may, for example, describe them, which may be sufficient. But parents ought to know that reading and speak- F 42 ing are none of these. If the teacher is obliged to be upon his guard when he teaches, least he pro- nounce wrong, he will teach a stiff, affected, mouth- ing manner of speaking ; he may even give some- thing like the language of an illiterate Englishman- . nay, he may give some sounds as fine as a Cockney; but, though such vulgarity is too often mistaken for what is correct, it is, however, at a vast distance from that ease, accuracy, and elegance inseparable from genuine English. Even the articulation of the first elements, the letters, is of much more consequence, than most parents and teachers seem to be aware. It is at the age when these are generally taught, that distinct- ness and accuracy, or the reverse, are most easily acquired. To this period can be traced that drawl- ing, cluttering, indistinct articulation, which is so very prevalent, and which generally remains during life, bidding defiance to all future attempts to ameliorate, or destroy, what time and custom has formed into a second nature. They are, therefore, miserably mistaken, who either deceive themselves or the public into the be- lief, that any instructor can teach children the first elements; or that a man may be a very good teacher, not only of the initiatory part of the English language, but even of Elocution, (for al- most every initiator is a Professor of Elocution,) al- though his mode of pronouncing, when in conver- sation, does not place him above the level of those 43 who are destined to drudge in the illiterate arts of life, and who have, from their education and pro- fession, no pretensions either to accuracy or ele- gance in the pronunciation of their native language. English syllables, and indeed the syllables of every language, differ from one another in a vast variety of ways. Those teachers who wish to ac- quire an accuracy and neatness in articulating and pronouncing the language, and who are desirous of making good readers, will particularly attend to this. Many of these varieties are of a very delicate nature, and take their rise from the various passions, emotions, sentiments, &c. with which we are affect- ed. Many of the most important of these can only be exemplified to the pupil, when he is studying those passages that require particular and appro- priate intonations of voice, arising from the various degrees of agitation with which the mind is affected, when reading or delivering such passages.^ These are most prevalent in the higher degrees of oratory, and in Epic and Dramatic speaking. But the prin- cipal, and indeed, the indispensable differences, be- cause they are constantly occurring in all ordinary cases, are the following, viz. I. Syllables differ from one another in their enun- ciative elements, that is, in the qualities of the let- ters of which they are composed. II. In their respective quantities, that is, in the time required in pronouncing them. This difference takes in a much wider range than commentators, 44 grammarians, and prosodians allow in the Greek and Latin languages. These literati, not the lan- guages, for, in many respects, these languages are more perfect than the English ; allow only a time and half a time to their syllables ; whereas, in our language, we have all the degrees, from a time to the eighth of a time, III. Syllables differ from each other in their poize, viz. in the affections of heavy and light the Thesis and Arsis of the Greeks. These alternations, un- derstood by so very few, constitute those measure- able cadences, by which alone the proportion and varieties of rhythmus can be rendered palpable to the ear. Without a thorough knowledge of these most important affections of speech, in vain will we attempt to measure, or read English poetry. IV. Syllables differ from one another by the quality of percussion. By this is meant an additional ex- plosive force ; not arising from organic affection, as just mentioned, though always upon the syllable under Thesis, but from the sense of the passage. This additional force upon the heavy syllable, or word, is independent, for its place, of the taste, feeling, or judgment of the reader, but inherent in the very nature of the sentence, and may properly be called the emphasis of sense. This species of emphatic percussion, must be carefully distinguished from that commonly called emphasis of force, which is entirely at the option and taste of the reader, and which we use when we 45 wish to be animated, forceful, or impressive. But although this additional force may grace, enforce, or enliven our reading and speaking, it cannot, in any degree, affect the sense of any passage. What- ever degree of percussive force we may give to such words or syllables, it must always be inferior to that degree of percussion which exclusively belongs to the emphasis of sense, if any such occur in the sentence. Even this emphasis of sense has its varieties of percussive force ; and this depends entirely upon the nature o the emphasis. We have, under the general term Emphasis or Thesis, the five following varieties, viz. 1. The Thesis or heavy syllable, constantly alter- nate with the light. 2. The additional percussion given to the heavy syllable, called emphasis of 'force. 3. The percussion given to the heavy syllable, called emphasis of sense, when the antithesis is ex- pressed, and not denied. 4. The force given to the emphasis of sense, when the antithesis is expressed and denied. In the last place, the highest degree of emphatic force, is that which is given to the emphatic word, when it affirms something in the emphasis, and denies what is opposed to it in the antithesis, while the antithesis is not expressed but understood. No emphasis of sense can take place without an anti- thesis either expressed or understood ; whereas the 46 emphasis of force, though frequently mistaken for it, is infinitely of inferior moment, and always at the option of the reader. 5. Syllables are still farther diversified by their degrees of loudness and softness, piano and forte, and other varieties of modulation. As a general rule, for I cannot here go into particulars, substan- tives, verbs, and adjectives require more swelling loudness than the smaller and less significant words and syllables. 6. Syllables differ from each other in those most evanescent, yet highly important properties, their musical accents which constitute the melody of speech. CHAPTER X. DISTINCTION BETWEEN PROSE AND VERSE, &C. Verse is constituted of a regular succession of similar cadences, or of a limited variety of cadences, divided by grammatical pauses and emphasis, into proportional clauses, so as to present sensible res- ponses to the ear, at regular proportioned distances. Prose differs from verse, not in the proportions, or in the individual character of its cadences, but in 47 the indiscriminate variety of the feet that occupy these cadences ; and in the irregularity of its clau- sular divisions. " It is composed of all sorts of cadences, arranged without attention to obvious rule* and divided into clauses that have no obvious- ly ascertainable proportion, and present no respon- ses to the ear, at any legitimate or determined in- tervals." The two following passages exemplify these defi- nitions ; they consist of the same words or syllables, and differ only in that arrangement which is pecu- liar to each : PROSE. Hail, r | therefore, | patroness of | con tern | pla- tion, | r of j health and | ease, r | heart r | solacing I j 0vs > r I r ana< I harmless | pleasures, | r un- f known in the | thronged a | bode of | multitudes ! | Hail ! r | rural | life ! | VERSE, | Hail, r | therefore, | patroness of | health r | r an d | ease, r J | TAnd | contem | plation, | heart r | solacing | joys, r | | r And | harmless | pleasures, | r in the | throng'd a | bode r ( | r Of multitudes un | known: f | Hail! r | rural | life ! r | Cowper's Tack. 48 PROSE. Then I will | not be | proud of my | beauty or my | youth, | since r | both of them | fade and I wither ; | r but r | gain a | good r | name by I do- ing my | duty | well; | this, 1 " | when I am | dead, r j will | scent like a | rose. VERSE. | r Then | I'll not be | proud r | r of my | youth or my | beauty, | r Since | both r | r of them | wither and | fade ; r | | r But | gain a good | name r | r by well | doing my | duty ; r j | This will | scent like a | rose r | when I'm | dead, f | CHAPTER XI. MEASURING PROSE AND VERSE. CHANGE OF TIME OR KHYTHMUS COMMON AND TRIPLE FARTHER ILLUS- TRATION OF THE INUTILITY OF GREEK FEET IN THE MEASURING OF ENGLISH VERSES, &C. When the cadences of our language, whether verse or prose, are marked according to the preceding rules, every person, properly initiated, can easily 49 understand them. The pupil, after a proper prac- tical knowledge, will acquire a correctness of ear which will enable him to mark off any piece of composition in bars or cadences, distinctly to point out the pulsation and remission, to fix the time, whe- ther common or triple, and the different species of each, and to preserve entire the rhythmus of the period. Though the mixture of common and triple time is constantly occurring, yet when properly ex- plained and exemplified, the quantities distinctly ascertained, and the ear properly tuned to the na- ture of a cadence, nothing is more easy. For, as has been shown, V- V* make a cadence in common measure, and are exactly equal in length or dura- tion to Y V Y' wn * cn ma ^ e a cadence or bar in triple measure ; the duration of each of these cadences or bars being determined by the swings of a pen- dulum of the same length ; as in the following ex- ample. The measure, it will be observed, changes from 2 to 3, that is, from common to triple time, but the times or lengths of each cadence or pulsa- tion, are exactly equal, notwithstanding the diversir ty of the subdivisions into 2, or 3. Example. My YY n t Y Y n Every sentence in our language, whether A.\ A/. A /. A .'. A.\ 50 n J n Y Y prose or verse, r r r has a rhythmus r r A /. A.'. A/. A .'. A *. A.\ \ YY * h. n \ r_, pe culiar to it self; f r r 3 A /. AA A.*. A/. A/. 4 Y Y That is, A J ,1 in the Y' I Y. language of A /. YY Y Y.? rr .l J lodern mu sicians, r r it is A / -'^ s / ' \ ** A.\ A /. either in YYY dehcet, A-/. YYY common time A i iY Y minuet time, Yl Y YY r r or triple time, A .\| A .\ r r Vt A,\ rr^ .Y' Y- rr or jig time, A/. A .*. rr or A .\ Y- mixed. r ~* A It will be observed, that we can make the pulsa- tions, and of course, the cadences quicker or slower at pleasure ; just as we alter the swing of a pendu- lum, by making it shorter or longer. With regard to the preceding example, it maybe remarked, that where the brace is written, it is to 51 show, that all the syllables or rests under it, are to pass as one in respect of the A, or the .* ; thus, in minu, or in the. ~a" "/T It admits of some alterations also, which may be worthy the attention of the pupil : similar altera- tions are frequently occurring, particularly in prose. w Every A-/. n x sentence in A .\ w ? y our language, A/. A .'. This mark "3 s shews that the three notes written under that arch must pass off in the time of two ; by which means, the two modes of common and triple time are easily intermixed. Besides, by this alteration the syllable in, one of our pliant monosyllables, which before was heavy and acute, is become light and grave ; and our is become heavy on the diphthong ou, and light on. the liquid r, and extending to the length of two syllables, is accented with a circumflex as before. n H I) u )) \ Has a rhythmus r of its own, pe culiar r to it self. r r'r A.'. A .'. aT7 A .-. A.'. tCT. A.\ 52 It must always be remembered, that the Thesis> or pulsation, is not peculiar to a long syllable, nor the Arsis or remission to a short one^ but may be upon either. Whether a cadence begins with a long or a short syllable, or note, or with a rest in silence, is quite indifferent to rhythmus 5 but the syllable, or note, or rest, must invariably carry with it the heavy poize or Thesis. Many of our finest verses, which present such a stumbling block to the prosodians, who scan Eng- lish verse with Greek feet, begin in this manner ; that is, with a rest and one syllable, or sometimes two under Arsis ; which, though they are not aware of it, constitute a complete cadence or bar. The Greek feet, under all their various names, cannot answer in any suitable degree to the rhyth- mus of our language ; for the commentators have told us, and our learned prosodians and gramma- rians scrupulously follow their directions, that their long and short syllables were in proportion to each other as 2 to 1 ; whereas, in our rhythmus, we have the several proportions of 2, 1, J-, \: and 3, 1, , -; and when we add to this, that no allowance, by this learned mode of scanning, is made for pauses, we must conclude, that to measure English verse by Greek feet is inaccurate and indecisive ; and that those who scan our verses by these feet, give the best possible proof that they have yet to learn the ; 53 nature, power, and effect of pulsation and remission, quantity, cadence, and rhythmus. However important the difference may be be- tween a dactyl, an anapest and a cretic ; or between a spondee and a trochee, or an iambus, to those who scan by their eyes rather than by their ears, it will be found upon experiment, which is paramount to a host of such prosodians, that the difference is extremely unimportant in our language, provided the thesis or heavy poize is not put out of its pro- per place. As mechanical instruments for the composition of Poetry, the Greek feet were ingenious, though intricate and inaccurate, compared with our musical rhythmus : But now, if joined with ours, the two together may become useful for the better reading of the ancient classics, and perhaps for modern composition in our own language. It may be affirmed, that according to this method of rhythmical divisions by bars, or cadences, and by the metrical subdivisions of these cadences into sub-duples, and sub-triples, or any such mixed frac- tional numbers as are aliquot parts of the whole cadence, there are no words, or form of words, but what may be reduced to an exact rhythmus. The invention of our modern notes, the figures of which denote accurately their metrical quantities, together with the bar to mark the pulses or rhyth- mical divisions, has rendered the Greek feet totally useless in the practice of modern music, Poetry is often read in a certain formal manner, supposing the ten syllables of our heroics must be cut exactly into five cadences of two syllables in each, or of four whole, and two half cadences ; whereas they always require the time of six cadences at least, and sometimes seven, and even eight ; but those who have only the idea of 'Jive cadences seldom attend to the necessary rests or pauses, or to a nice metrical subdivision of the cadences according to the natural and necessary emphasis or poize, and the quantity of such syllables, and therefore frequently misplace the light and the heavy. Several of our monosyllables, such as our, hour, xvorn, torn, borne, and the like, are so long, that any one of them, with eight other syllables, will make an unexceptionable hexametre line. However, long syllables so employed have evidently the effect, and nearly the same sound as two syllables, though in other lines they may be sounded as merely mono- syllables. Example of a line of nine syllables in six cadences, coupled with an Alexandrine of eight cadences. 8 | r So | Britain | worn | out with | crops of | men, r | | ri Must J now be | stock'd with] brutes, r | - a| wilderness a J gain. r Measured lines, therefore, of whatever lengths, are, or may be rhythmical clauses ; and are other- wise distinguished both in ancient and modern lan- guage, by the names of hexametres, pentametres, 55 tetrametres, &c. It may be remarked, that if it were not for the rhymes in modern Poetry, the ear would never discover the ends of verses, when pro- perly pronounced ; because the rhythmus never stops, not even at pauses ; for, though there is a discontinuance of sound, the rhythmus still conti- nues to the end of the piece, and by that continu- ance every pause is measured. These, however, would be tiresome and offensive, if we found them at equal and periodical distances ; and hence it is, that the caesure is never offensive in blank verse. From this is evident, not only the indispensable necessity of pauses, but the propriety of measuring them in every line. But wc find them not only frequently improperly placed, both by readers and authors, but their time or measurement totally ne- glected. Many instances might also be adduced, where both poize and quantity have been violated by our best poets ; but a poetical license, the offspring of hard necessity, is not a sufficient authority to vio- late the laws of nature. For, though speech is ar- tificial, yet pause, accent, quantity, and poize are na^ tural principles, without which it could not be con- structed. 66 CHAPTER XIL WORDS MARKED WITH PROPER ACCENT, QUANTITY AN EMPHASIS. It was mentioned in the last Chapter, that per- haps the Greek method of composing by feet, join- ed with ours, might be of some use in modern com- positions : In this view, I shall set down, from the Prosodia Rationalis, several English words, mark- ing them with the notes of accent, quantity, and poize; and likewise give them the names of such Greek feet as their quantities seem to refer them to. The following specimen will shew that our lan- guage has the same title to syllabic accents, and perhaps as fixed as those of the Greek ; for it is not probable that the Greek tongue should have been denied the convenient power of marking the dif- ference between an interrogative and a positive ex- pression, by the change of accent. The following are Spondees: n Y- Y* r.t Y- Y" y constant ? constant. carelses ? careless. will- A /. A .'. A /. A .'. A 57 x yy yx n n y ling, wicked ? wicked, maxim ? maxim, won- A /. A .% A/. A.*. A y yx r? yx xy der ? wonder, succeed ? succeed, success ? A /. % A / A .*. A yx y y y X success. common ? common. to . A A /. A ,\ XX tf to accent. .-.A an accent ? A.'. an xy yx to insult ? an insult. A A n yi music, trochee. A/. music, spondee* A/. \ eager, trochee. A /. w xy accent ? /.A yx accent. A.'. eagerly, dactyl. A .'. 58 ) able, trochee. A.\ a bi li ty, choriambic. A H ever, A.*. H never, A.\ n sever, A.\ >pyrrhic. x n * hi I Y / \ compose, iambus. .'. A 3f YIY composition, third epitrite. A ,\A /. H wonderful, " A /. absolute ? A /. t absolute. A /. dactyl, or a- napest d ma~ jore. H>* compensate, molossus. impossible?^ A A compensation, choriambus. impossible, ) A* A A choriambic or \Wpccon. 59 pry V/X varu^, dactyl or spondee, exquisite, anapetl. aT a " * vanTty, choriambic. deliberate, choriamhc. A A u cuiw dactyl or spondee, avwice, MUpnft a TT A cu ri o sity, iambus 8$ ana- aver, iambus. *~*~* *A* pest per co- .\ A * A .. ^ w /^ w# terrify, anapest. average, anapest. n it . . h exterminate, choriambic, r . , ^a^ confess, iambus. , A .. .. A 60 t LY \ f ( confession, dactyl. or, successor, cretic. A A ' .-. or, confession, 1st pceon. beauty, spondee. "r^ A .-. . A .\ confessor, dactyl. .-. A - beautifully, proceleumatic. ux. or, confessor, creft'c. IK beautiful, cretic. succession, 1st pceon. - A I IT consider, cretic. .-. A.: fH successor, dactyl. .: A^ mi? consideration,creftc-ztfwfoc. A % A.-. 61 declare, iambus. .-. A musical, dactyl. declaration, diambic. A- A~ U T 3T>? musician, dactyl. A.: H to demonstrate, lacchic. differ, p.rrhic. .: A . A .-. a demonstrative, Idpceon. defer, iambus* .: A -.-. .\ A J Y JY MS demonstration, diambic. difference, anapest. A .\ A.\ A .-. necessary, proceleusmatk. deference, anapest. A.-. A.-. 0n y necessity, choriambic* \/v delicate, anapest. .: A 62 \ H delinquent, bacchic. a project, iambus, A.\ o to project, spondee. u mis e ry, ampest, A V. YY species, efac/[y/ or spondee. a7T specific, cre//c, .\ A .*. respect,(in suspense)^ /.A H respect, (final) /. A respective, molossus. A YY miser, spondee. A.*. . J ? ICLYYl- fo cs compare, iambus. ' .'. A t comparison, choriamUc* A com\>arab\e,proceleusmatic. "a""/? 63 instant, spondee. constitution, disspondee* A A ..AA instantaneous, jrooftrf. <& ' . ^ ' \ _ . _ a . a .. . ^j constituent, choriarnbus < *J* y m 1 UH communicate, choriarnbus. ' -.. v A . ..- constanti |nopie,?wo/os.s^# A . . .- A . . spondee. r j m /y / \ /\ Y Y communication, rfacA & . ~ spoi instru A ct ' ^P "** A A.-. ^ . A Y IY \ ' A continue, creft'c. ,\ A continual, choriarnbus. .-. A-.-. instruction, molossus, .-. A .-. yu continu I ation, J#cA & 1 ~ spondeeJ Vduce tambus. A--.% A.-. ^ .-.A instrument, dactyl. A . - .. 64 ft \ V the produce, iambus. inspire, iambus. A.-. .-. A n HH product, ditto. inspira tion, dis-spondee. A.: A .-. A^? production, bacchic. HH .-.A ?T or inspira tion, ionicus a ml ^^ A *-*-* wore. .. A .. m syllable, anapest. A . . .-. vibrate, spondee. Ui A .v syllabic, dactyl. . A .\ uy H ; to frequent, 1. vibration, molossas. .-. A .-. .-. A n adj. frequent, A .-. dee. / /\ J occupy, ^dactyl A .\ 65 MH .... >?-# occupa tion, ionicus d mi- or occupation, diambic. / ~ A ~> a""""^ nore. A f \ A .\ CHAPTER XIII. EXAMPLES OF VARIOUS KINDS OF VERSE, MEASURED BY THIS PLAN, AS THEY SHOULD BE READ, CONTRASTED WITH THE MODE OF SCANNING THEM BY GREEK FEET. In measuring the different kinds of verse in this Chapter, according to the system laid down in the preceding pages, I have contrasted them with the mode of scanning practiced by our modern proso- dians. According to their mode of scanning, viz. by Greek feet, it is impossible to read our poetry ; and if prosody is not to assist and direct us how we ought to read, I confess I know not its use. Al- though I have heard repeatedly the best speakers in Britain, have studied with the most eminent professors of the art of reading and speaking, and have been in the practice of teaching elocution for twenty years, I never found one who read poetry according to the rules laid down by prosodians for i 66 scanning it ; indeed, I believe it is impossible to do so. Nor can this be wondered at, when we find these accidents of language, poize, accent, quanti- ty, &c. so much mistaken and misapplied. # * " As these Greek and Roman names of feet and verses have (with the substitution of English accent for Greek and Latin quantity), been applied to English versification by other writers before me, and as they are convenient terms to save circumlo- cution, I have deemed it expedient to adopt them after the ex- ample of my predecessors, and to apply to our accented and un- accented syllables, the marks generally employed to indicate long and short syllables in the Greek and Latin prosodies : as, for example, the marks, thus applied to the Greek Pegasos, or the Latin Pegasus, signify that the first syllable of that animal's name is long, and the other two short ; whereas, in English prosody, the same marks are to be understood as simply mean- ing, that the first syllable in Pegasus is accented, and the other two un-accented. This observation applies to every other case. " It might be thought improper to pass, wholly unnoticed, a fourth species the Dactylic of which Mr Murray observes, that it is " very uncommon :" and indeed he has not quoted any admissible example of such metre ; for, as to that which he ad- duces, thus marked with the appearance of three dactyles " From the low pleasures of this fallen nature I cannot discover in it even one real dactyl. If the fault be mine, I am sorry for it ; but I have been taught (whether right or wrong, I leave to better scholars than myself to determine), that, in scanning verse, whether Greek, Latin, or English, we are not arbitrarily to connect or disjoin syllables, with the view of producing whatever kind and number of feet we choose ; much less to alter, at our pleasure, the accent or quantity of 67 EXAMPLES. The first example has six cadences ; each line be- gins with a syllable under Arsis, which is filled up with a pause equal to a heavy syllable or Thesis ; it being always remembered, that every cadence must begin with a A syllable, or a pause. These two lines, therefore, are two complete hexametres. syllables for that purpose, as in From, Low, and Fall, in the ex- ample above quoted ; but that each foot must independently stand on its own ground, without any violation of accent or quantity ; and that we must produce the due number of feet, whatever those feet may be : otherwise there would be an end of all metre ; and no reader could tell the difference between verse and prose. The observance of those rules, of which I never have heard the propriety disputed, compels me, however reluctant, to differ from Mr Murray, and to scan the verse as follows " From the^ | low plea- | siires 6T | this fall- | en na- | tiire making it a five-foot Iambic, with a redundant syllable at the end, as is common in every kind of English metre, without ex- ception." " We see that a Pyrrhic, of two light, un-accented syllables, equally makes a foot with us, as a spondee of two heavy, ac- cented syllables ; and this, not only in cases where a contiguous spondee might be supposed to compensate, by the additional length of its time, for the stinted brevity of the Pyrrhic, but also in verses innumerable which contain no spondee, though some- times two Pyrrhics occur in the same line." And elsewhere we have these remarkable words The quantity or length of syl- lables is little regarded in English poetry, which is entirely regu- lated by their number and accent/' Caret's English Prosody. 68 1st Example *. I r The I swain, with j tears, r his * A/.l A .-.| A /. frustrate A /. labour A/. yields, r A * r And I famish'd, I dies a I mid his 1 ri pen'd | fields, r A .\ A .% A .\ A .% A/. A /. These lines, scanned by the latest prosodians, with Greek feet, have only five cadences in the line, and each of these cadences, contrary to nature, be- gins with a syllable under /. The swain, | with tears, | his frus | trate la | bour yields, | And fa | mish'd, dies | amid | his ri | pen'd fields. | Pope- 2. Examples in Six Cadences. r In | moder | a tion I plac ing I all my ] glo ry, Imoder | A/. I A.\| A/. I A/. I A.\ | A .\| A While r I Tories I call me 1 Whig, r and I Whigs a I Tory. A ,\ j A/, j A /. j A .Y I A /. I A.\ Improperly scanned with Greek feet in 5. In mo | dera | tion pla | cing all | my glo | ry, | While To | ries call | me Whig, | and Whigs | a To | ry. Pope. 69 3. Examples in Five Cadences. r Of I pleasure's I gilded I baits be I ware, r . A .\ I A ,\ J A .% | A ,'.| A r Nor | tempt the I siren's I fatal I snare. r A /.A ,\ A .\ A .\ A .\ Improperly scanned, with Greek feet, in 4, Of pleas | ure's gild | ed baits | beware, | Nor tempt | the si | ren's fa | tal snare. | 4. Example in Five and Four Cadences. Ir A I las ! by I some de | gree of | wo, r A .-. I A .: J A .-. I A .-. J A .-. | II" We w ev e ry 1 bliss must I gain ; r "1 I A .-. J A--.-. J A .-. I A .-. I | r The 1 heart can I ne'er a I transport I know, r | A .-. I A .-. I A .-. J A .: I A .-. j I That r I never I feels a | pain. r I A .-. I A .-. I A .-. j A >, j Improperly scanned in Four and Three- Alas ! | by some | degree | of wo, | We ev | 'ry bliss | must gain ; ( The heart | can ne'er | a trans | port know, j That nev | er feels | a pain. | 70 5, Example in Three Cadences, [ r With | ravish'd | ears, r | | r The | monarch J hears, r | | r As j sumes the | god, r | | r Af | fects to | nod, r | p And | seems to | shake the | spheres/ | Improperly scanned thus, With ra | vish'd ears, | The mo | narch hears, | Assumes | the god, | Affects | to nod, | And seems | to shake | the spheres. 6. Example in Four Cadences complete. Man a | lone, in I tent to I stray, f I A .\ j A .% I A .\ J A .-. f Ever I turns from I wisdom's I way. ? A.'. A .-. A.'. A .*. Moore. These lines, scanned by Greek feet, are called trochaic verses, of three Jeet and a hatj: Let it be observed, that the three feet in each of the lines, exemplified below, are accidentally right, be- 71 cause each of these feet forms a cadence. I say accidentally r , because, in scanning by these feet, we find no attention paid to the cadence, whether it begins with a syllable under pulsation or remission, but as it happens to suit the foot ; and, of course, it it will be found, that cadences formed by these feet, are frequently begun with a syllable under arsis, which should never be the case, as already explained. By not knowing the value of a pause, they call the last syllable half a foot, whereas, by a proper pause, viz. a crotchet, it is a complete ca- dence ; because every pause or rest is counted in the rhythmus of a line, as well as sound, and is fre- quently even more expressive ; but our learned prosodians, not being aware of this, are constantly, according to their rules, destroying the rhythmus of our verses. Scanned according the laws of Greek prosody ; Man a | lone, in | tent to ] stray, Ever | turns from | wisdom's | way. 7. Example in Five Cadences. 3.] r Tis the I voice of the .-. ..| A r Yon have j wak'd me too .\ I A sluggard; I I hear him com I plain, r A .*. A .'. ' A soon,i 1 1 must r I slumber a A . A A .-. gain.r A | Watts. 72 Mark how these lines are spoiled by the rules of prosody, by making every cadence begin with a light syllable, and allowing no time for pauses : 'Tis the voice | of the slug | gard ; I hear | him complain, | You have wak'd | me too soon, | I must slum | ber again. | Should any of those prosodians, who scan accoraV ing to the Greek terms of prosody, be of opinion that there is nothing in this improved mode, but a direct tendency to spoil that manner of scanning which has been sanctioned for many centuries, they are at full liberty to remain in that opinion, and will, no doubt, do so, until they are able to under- stand what, in the preceding pages, is meant by Thesis and Arsis, the value of quantity in rhyth- mus, the meaning and proper application of the term accent, as an affection which is totally distinct from quantity and rhythmus, the meaning and music of a cadence, and that it may be completed with rests or pauses, as well as with syllables, &c. I write this, not so much with the view of reform- ing prosodians, as to put my own pupils upon their guard against false modes of scanning, by which they cannot read, and to teach them the method of preserving, in their reading and speaking, the pro- per melody and rhythmus of the English language. 73 8. Example in Four and Three Cadences, with the light syllables, as formerly exemplified, placed at the beginning of each, with an unnecessary elision in the word powers. Ye pow'rs | who make beau | ty and vir | tue your care ! | Let no sor | row my Phil | lis molest ! | Let no blast | of misfor | tune intrude | on the fair, | To ruf | fle the calm | of her breast. | Anon. These lines ought to be marked thus, in six and four cadences, totally independent of the Greek feet. The verses are in &. | r Ye 1 1 powers who| make "Jj beauty and | virtue your | care ! r | | Let no | sorrow my | Phillis | molest, r | | Let no | blast of mis | fortune in | trude on the | fair, r | J r To | ruffle the | calm of her | breast. 1 " | As examples that the Pyrrhic forms a complete foot or cadence in our language, we find the two following lines scanned thus : As on | a day, | reflect | %ng on | his age. Louth. Solem | mtys | a co | ver for | a sot. Young-, K 74 This doctrine, I make no doubt, may suit very well all prosodians who scan our verses with Greek feet ; but that it will direct any one to read a line so as to preserve the integral quantities of a cadence or bar, and produce the rhythmus, 1 hold to be im- possible ; these lines ought to be measured and read in this manner : | r As on a | day re | fleeting r | r n his | age. r | | r So | lemnity's | r a r | cover | r for a | sot. f | Here, it may be observed, that the integral quan- tity of every cadence, including the pauses, is alike, and may be measured by the same swings of a pen- dulum. The spondee is equally mistaken by giving it the same time in a cadence as a Pyrrhic, not being aware that two heavy syllables cannot be in one cadence, nor can two heavy syllables succeed each other, and be pronounced without a pause between them ; and, as was formerly shown, cadence is al- ways from heavy to heavy ; as, { Rocks, r | caves/ | lakes/ | bogs/ | dens, r | fens and | shades of | death/ where the pulsation, the cadence, and rhythmus are exactly the same, as if the line were thus filled up with light syllables, and which would add no- thing to the length of the line were it measured by a time-beater. 75 Rocks, & j caves, & lakes, { j& | bogs, & | dens, & | fens, & | shades of | death. But mark how it is scanned by our learned pro- sodians : Rocks, caves, | lakes, dens, | bogs, fens, j and shades | of death. But farther, let us observe the scanning of the following inimitable lines of Milton, and how dread- fully they are mangled ; and the minuteness of the directions how to do so. " The fact is," says a modern prosodian, " that we do not, in the utterance of these lines, (viz, the two following,) pronounce murmuring as three com- plete syllables, or innumerable as five ; in each case, we instinctively and imperceptibly make a syncope, which converts murmuring into a trochee, and in- numerable into an iambus and a pyrrhic, thus : Murm'ring ; | and, with | him fled | the shades | of night. Innu | m'rable | before ] th' Almigh | ty's throne." It may be matter of regret, but really we are not conscious of any such instinct or imperceptibility as to lead us to barbarize Milton's fine verses in such a manner. Such instinct and imperceptibility may indeed belong, or be imagined to belong to those who are so completely fettered by the prejudices of learning, as to consider it a species of the grossest heresy to scan any verses by any rules, but those dictated by prosodians, viz. the Greek feet ; but un- 76 questionably by none who have perceptibility enough to be guided in the cadence, metre, and rhythmus of our verses by their ears, which, though infinitely superior, are not, with prosodians at least, so legiti- mate guides, as the eyes. These lines ought to be measured and read thus, by which means we preserve entire Milton's pecu- liarly expressive and highly poetic verses, and also the complete cadence, metre, and rhythmus of each line, without either syncope, or apocope, or any other necessary implement of cutting and mang- ling. Each line has six cadences, instead of five, as marked by the rules of prosody. Murmuring ; | r an d I with him I fled the I shades of | night, r A /. I .\ A .*. I A.\ I A/. I A r In | numerable I r be | fore the Al I mighty 's | throne. r .\ A-.V /.A /. A /. A The following line of Milton is directed to be scanned and read thus : All judg | ment, whe | th'r in heaven, | or earth, | or hell, where the author is much indebted to Swift for his authority, which is established by the following lines: And thus fanatic saints, though neitKr in Doctrine or discipline our brethren. 77 which is quite sufficient grounds for barbarizing Milton's line, as measured above, and cramming it within five cadences ; whereas it should be mea- sured and read in six cadences, without any elision $ thus, All r I judgment, I whether in 1 heaven, or I earth, or I hell. r A A /. A-.\ A- .\ A /.A As to the authority of Swift on this point, I con- sider it equally good, or equally bad with the thou- sands who have gone before him, that scanned Eng- lish verse with Greek JeeL But perhaps the measure of this learned absurdi- ty is not complete, without the following example from Shakespeare ; where, in order to make it obedient to this most imperious law, the exact number of feet, we have this extraordinary line : O Ro | meo ! Ro | meo ! where | fore art | thou Ro | meo? Instead of the beautifully complete rhythmus of Shakespeare, which ought to be measured and read thus, without any synceneris or redundance, O HRoraeo! 1 Rome o ! | wherefore ] art thou I Rome o ? A J A ".\| A-/. J A /. J A .\ J A-.\ which is a line of fourteen syllables, measured in six cadences, instead of the eleven syllables, scan. 78 ned in five feet with a redundant syllable, by the rules of prosody. CHAPTER XIV. VARIOUS PASSAGES OF POETRY SELECTED AS EXERCISES, TO BE MARKED WITH THE THESIS A AND ARSIS .\ OR THE PUL- SATION AND REMISSION. THE FIRST THREE EXAMPLES ARE MARKED. To be able accurately to mark the syllables under A and .*. is a most important step in this system, so much so, that, without this, which may be con- sidered as the basis of rhythmus, no proficiency can be acquired. Jn going over these exercises, the student is made acquainted with the degrees of pulsation and remission, how they are accomplish- ed by the action and re-action of the enunciative organs ; why these organs cannot pronounce two pulsations without a pause or remission between them and is shown, that from the very nature of the organs, these affections must pervade every language. 79 Soft r rising now the eastern breeze* A A.\ A ,\ A .% A Plays r rustling through the quivering trees. A A /. A .\ A .\ A 2. Come r lovely health ! divinest maid ! A A .\ A A /. A And lead me through the rural shade. .\ A % A .\A.\ A 3. Soft r is the strain when zephyr gently blows, A A .\ A /. A /.A/. A And the smooth r stream in smoother numbers flows ; \ ' A A .\ A .\ A ,\ A But r when r loud r surges lash the sounding shore, A A A A .-. A .\ A .% A The hoarse r rough r verse should like the torrent roar, /.A A A /. A /. A /. A When Ajax strives r some r rock's r vast r weight to throw, /.A/. A A A A A .\ A The line, too, labours, and the words r move r slow. /. A .\ A .\ /. /.A A A Pope. 4. Judge we by nature ? habit can efface, Interest o'ercome, or policy take place : 80 By actions ? those uncertainty divides : By passions ? those dissimulation hides : Opinions ? they will take a wider range, Find, if you can, in what you cannot change, Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes, Tenets with books, and principles with times. Pope. 'Tis with our judgements as our watches, none Go just alike, yet each believes his own- In poets, as true genius is but rare, True taste as seldom in the critics share ; But must alike from heaven derive their light, These born to judge, as well as those to write. Let such teach others, who themselves excel, And censure freely who have written well. Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true, But are not critics to their judgements too ? Pope. 6. Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend, And round his dwelling guardian saints attend : Bless' d be that spot, where cheerful guests retire, To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire j 81 Bless'd that abode, where want and pain repair, And every stranger finds a ready chair : Bless'd be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd, Where all the ruddy family, around, Laugh at the jests or pranks, that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale : Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good. Goldsmith. 7. A troop came next, who crowns and armour wore, And proud defiance in their looks they bore -, u For thee," they cried, " amid alarms and strife, We saiFd in tempests down the stream of life j For thee, whole nations fillM with arms and blood,' And swam to empire through the purple flood : Those ills we dar'd, thy inspiration own, What virtue seem'd was done for thee alone." " Ambitious fools !" the queen replied, and frown'd, " Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown'd j There sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants gone, Your statues moulder'd, and your names unknown !" A sudden cloud straight snatch'd them from my sight, And each majestic phantom sunk in night. 82 & See the sole bless heaven could on all bestow I Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know ; Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, The bad must miss, the good, untaught, will find : Slave to no sect, ^-who takes no private road, But looks through nature, up to nature's God ; Pursues that chain which links the immense design. Join heaven and earth, and mortal and divine : Sees that no being any bliss can know, But touches some above and some below ; Learns from this union of the rising whole, The first, last, purpose of the human soul ; And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, All end in love of God and love of man. For him alone hope leads from goal to goal, And opens still, and opens on his soul, Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfin'd, It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. Pope- 9. SLAVERY. Hark ! heard ye not that piercing cry, Which shook the waves and rent the sky ? 83 Even now, even now, on yonder western shores, Weeps pale Despair, and writhing Anguish roars : Even now, in Afric's groves, with hideous yell, Fierce Slavery stalks, and slips the dogs of hell : From vale to vale the gathering cries rebound, And sable nations tremble at the sound ! Ye bands of Senators ! whose suffrage sways Britannia's realms, whom either Ind obeys, Who right the injur'd and reward the brave, Stretch your strong arm, for ye have power to save ! Thron'd in the vaulted heart, his dread resort, Inexorable Conscience holds his court ; With still small voice the plots of guilt alarms, Bares his mask'd brow, his lifted hand disarms ; But wrapp'd in night, with tenors all his own, He speaks in thunder when the deed is done. Hear him, ye Senates $ hear this truth sublime, * He WHO ALLOWS OPPRESSION SHARES THE CRIME.' No radiant heart, which crested fortune wears, No gem, that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears, Nor the blue stars, which night's blue arch adorn, Nor rising suns, that gild the vernal morn, Shine with such lustre, as the tear that breaks for others' wo, down virtue's manly cheeks. Darwin- 84 10. ON A LADY SLEEPING. Where my Laura is laid beneath this old tree, Asleep to the whispers that die on the gale, Ye wood-nymphs attend, as kind guardians, and see That no harsh intrusion her slumbers assail. Swell gently thy murmur, O, soft rolling stream, And gently, ye zephyrs, skim o'er the sweet maid ; By rustling your pinions, disturb not her dream, Nor ruffle the bank where my Laura is laid. May her dreams be of rapture, and through her dear breast, May pleasure, quick darting, give transports divine ; Such transports as lovers oft feel unexpress'd, Too poignant for language, for utterance too fine. O let me for ever, unconscious of change, Still, sleeping or waking, protect the sweet maid ; Still range the same groves that my Laura shall range, And lie on the bank where my Laura is laid. A. M'D. 85 CHAPTER XV. VARIOUS PASSAGES OF POETRY SELECTED AS EXERCISES TO BE MARKKD WITH THE A AND .'., THE PAUSES, AND ALSO TO BE CUT INTO RHYTHMICAL CADENCES OR BARS. r The 1 man r that j hath no I mu sic I in him I self, ** \ I A .\ I A .\| A.\ I A *\ | A r Nor, j is not I mov'dJ" with I concord of | sweetl I sounds," 1 A .'. | A /. I A /. I A I A r Is 1 fit for I treasons, r I stra ta gems, r I r an d I spoils .\|A.\| A/. A--/. .*. A r The I mo tions I in his I spi rit r are 1 dull as I night, r ..| A/. |A.\| A/, v I A/. r And | his af I fections r | dark as I Ere bus : A /. j A /. j A /. j A /. Let ? 1 no such 1 man be I trusted. A | A.'. I A .\| A v.. . Merchant of Venice* 86 A STORM, WITH ITS CONTRAST. \ A A /. A ,\ r A I mighty | wind o'er | flows the I hills,'" .\ I A ,\ I A /. J A .\ J A r And I pours'its I current I down the I vale,- / .\ A /. A ,\ A .% A How, 1 I yonder, I many | forest I stoops A I A.*. I A.\| A.\ | A r Be | neath its I fu ry ! A /.A .\ r And I lo ! r I on the in I dignant J main," 1 A A^ A.'. I A What r I a gi I ta tion I r of its I waves ; n A A.\ A.\ / A . r Or I tossing .-. I A .-. high their I foamy A .-. A.-. heads, r A Or J dashing r J gainst the I shore. r A .-. A .-. A Onward in I billowy I gusts, 1 " A .-.A-.-. A F The im penous A--.- tempest A .-. rushes, A .-. f And I aught its I force with I standing I fiercely as | sails:"! A .-.A .-. A .-. A -.-. A 87 r Of I mingled I strife the | clamorous I voices I rise, ^ .-. I A I A .-. I A-.-. I A.-. I A r And in I rude r I peals, in I vade the a I larmed I ear. r A A .-. I A-- .-. I A .-. I A r But | upward | turn'd, r | r the ad | miring I eye n I .-. | A.-. I A I ".-.| A.-. | A I Far r I other I prospect I meditates A A .-. A.-. A-.-. r The I moon, r I fair r I governess of I night, r A I A I A--.-. "I A Walking in I brightness : A .-. \& .-. And, I scatter'd | o'er the I vast ex I panse, r .-. I A.-. I A .-. I A .-. I A r The in numerous A-.-. multitude A-.-. r f stars, r A f With | what r I calm r I aspect r i they ap I pear i A A A.-. A .-. A r To I view the I storm be I low. 1 .-. A .-. A .-.A While r 1 musing I o'er r | both r I scenes, n A [ A.-. I A J A A While r I thus r I both r I scenes con I trasting, A A A A A.-. My | fervent I spirit e 1 jaculates, I " Oh ! 1 I when, r ..[A.-. I A-.% I A-.-. A I A 88 Frm the se | rener I heights of I mental j peace, r A ' .\ A. ; . | A .\ J A .'. I A Shall r I I look I down on | life's tu | multuous | cares."" 1 A I A.-. | A .-. I A .-. I A--.-. I A Roe, 3. THE AFFECTED PREACHER. J" In | man or | woman, | but r | far r | most in | man, r [ r And | most of | all r in | man that ] ministers | r And | serves the | altar, | r in my | soul I | loath 1 | All r | affec | tation. | Tis my | perfect | scorn, c | Object | r of my | r implacable | r dis | gust, r | What ! | will a | man play | tricks, r | will he in | dulge f j r A | silly [ fond con | ceit of his | fair r | form, f | r And | just pro | portion, | fashion | able | mein, F | And | pretty | face, in | presence | r of his God ? r F Or | will he | seek to | dazzle me | r with | tropes, r | F As I with the | diamond | r on his | lily | hand, | r And | play his | brilliant | parts be | fore my | eyes, r | r When | I am | hungry | r for the | bread of | life ? | r He | mocks his | Maker, | prostitutes j r and | shames r His r | noble | office, | r and, in j stead of | truth, r | r Dis | playing his | own | beauty, | starves his | flock ! | Therefore, a | vaunt | all r | attitude, | r and | stare, r | f And | start the | atric, | practised | at the | glass ! | r I | seek di | vine sim | plicity in | him r | Who r | handles | things di | vine ; | r and [ all be | sides, 89 Though r | learn'd with | labour, | r and tho' | much ad | mir'd By r | curious | eyes and | judgments | ill in | form'd, | I" To | me is | odious | r as the | nasal | twang r | Heard r | at con | venticle, | where r | worthy | men, | r Mis | led by | custom, | strain ce | lestial | themes r | Through the | press'd | nostril | spectacle | t bestrid. | Coteper, 4. THE NEGRO SLAVE. Force, ruffian force, and guilty hands, Has torn me from my joys away ; Condemn'd to toil in distant lands, And doom'd to weep each passing day. The sounding whip and clanking chain, With horrid din disturb my rest ; And curses dire, from lips profane, Shoot sudden terrors through my breast. Divided far from all I love, Remov'd from all my heart holds dear, Death's sharpest pangs each day I prove, And shed, each hour, the fruitless tear, M 90 A JANUARY NIGHT IN TOWN. There vice and folly run their giddy rounds j There eager crowds are hurrying to the sight Of feign'd distress, yet have not time to hear The shivering orphan's prayer. The flaring lamps Of gilded chariots, drawn by pamper'd steeds, Illume the snowy street : the silent wheels On heedless passenger steal unperceiv'd, Bearing the splendid fair to flutter round Amid the mazy labyrinths of the dance. TO PEACE. Hail, long lost Peace ! hail, dove-ey'd maid divine! See at thy feet a suppliant votary bend : Oh ! deign to view him with an eye benign ; So dying hope shall find in thee a friend : Ah ! turn not thy angelic face away ! If thou'lt be mine, no more I quit this vale, But sit beside thee all the live-long day, And list in silence to thy rural tale. 91 There may we live, unsought for, arid unseen By fortune's train, fantastic, cold, and rude ; Nor let the sons of Comus mark the green, Nor lounging triflers on our hours intrude If ought be welcome to our sylvan shade, Be it the traveller who has lost his way ; Who knows not where to rest his anxious head, Who knows not where his weary limbs to lay. TO PEACE. O thou who bad'st thy turtles bear Swift from his grasp thy golden hair, And sought'st thy native skies : When War, by vultures drawn from far, To Britain bent his iron car, And bade her storms arise ! Tir'd of his rude tyrannic sway, Our youth shall fix some festive day, His sullen shrine to burn ; But thou who hear'st the turning spheres, What sounds may charm thy partial ears, And gain thy blest return ! 92 O Peace, thy injur'd robes up-bind ! O rise, and leave not one behind Of all thy beamy train : The British lion, Goddess sweet, Lies stretch'd on earth to kiss thy feet, And own thy holier reign. Let others court thy transient smile, But come to grace thy western isle, By warlike honour led ! And, while around her ports rejoice, While all her sons adore thy choice^ With him for ever dwell. ROBINSON CRUSOE. 1 am monarch of all I survey ; My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. O solitude ! what are the charms, That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. 93 I am out of humanity's reach ; I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. Society, friendship, and love, Divinely bestow'd upon men ! Oh ! had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again ! Ye winds that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore, Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. 9. TO A BEECH TREE, WITH TWO NAMES CUT IN ITS BARK. Fair Beech, that bear'st our interwoven names Here grav'd, the token of our mingled names, Preserve the mark, and as thy head shall rise, Our love shall heighten till they reach the skies : The wounds in us, as these in thee, shall spread, Larger by time and fairer to be read. Stand sacred Tree, here still inviolate stand, By no rude axe profan'd, by no unhallow'd hand. Be Thou the Tree of Love, and here declare, That once a nymph was found as true as she was fair. Sty. 94 10. THE TEMPEST. 1. All bloody sunk the evening sun, And red the wild wave gleam'd, And loud and billowy o'er the deep, The angry tempest scream'd. 2. When Mary, weeping, kiss'd her babes, And laid them down to rest, As slow the sad thought pal'd her cheek, And chilFd her heaving breast. Blow, blow, she cried, thou wintry wind, Then cast her streaming eyes, Where, foaming o'er the rocky cliff, The bursting breaker dies. Ah me ! to Mary's harass'd heart, How welcome yon rude tone, That swells on sorrow's saddening ear, And, wailing, seems to moan. 95 5. Tho' many a day be past and gone, Tho* many a month be fled, Since Henry left his tender wife, And shar'd her faithful bed ; 6. I've seen his form, when still at eve, The moan on ocean slept ; I've heard his voice, when o'er the rock, The dying breeze hath crept. 7. She scarce had said, when from the deep. Slow peal'd the sullen swell ; Dark grew the heavens, and dark the wave, And fast the chill rain fell. 8. When Mary thought on Henry dear, And breath'd the tender sigh ; When wild, as scream'd the untimely ghost, Was heard the seaman's cry. 9. She left her cot, and turn'd the cliffy Where plain'd the dismal sound $ 9S She flew, on hopeless Henry cali'd, And wav'd her hand around. 10. That moment rush'd the billowy surge, And o'er the rough rock rolFd ; And far through ocean's viewless depths, The knell of Mary toll'd. II- Her children slept till morning's dawn, Then kiss'd each other's cheek ; As pouring o'er their guileless heads, They heard the tempest break. 12. They wept, they call'd for Mary dear, Her soft embrace delay'd, Then turn'd their dewy eyes to heaven, And clasp'd their hands and pray'd. 13. The wild wind ceas'd, the sun beam'd forth, Red shone the tinted ray ; The children rose, and Edward smil'd His Charlotte's tears away. 97 14. They went to seek their lost mamma, They reached the craggy shore, When lo ! to land poor Mary's corse, The tide deep heaving bore. 15. When nought she answer'd, their fond hearts Did almost burst with grief, And won't mamma, then, speak to us ? And won't she bring relief ? 16. They kiss'd her pale lips, kiss'd her hands, And laid down by her side j Their cheeks to her cold cheek they placed, And weeping still, they died. Drake. N 98 CHAPTER XVL VARIOUS PASSAGES OF POETRY SELECTED AS EXERCISES, TO BE MARKED WITH THE A AND .*., THE PAUSES, BARS OR CA- DENCES, AND THE QUANTITY. I* Justice A.*. YY Terror A.\ And And Y Tshall V yet in A.\ trample A .*. V yet un A .*. Y' I close her A /. wrath a rise/ A .\ I A I I J It L Ton the tyrant s A Y: I 1 Y Y make op I pression A .'. I A /. eyes, A breast, r Y- I groan, op A .*. ^or press a. ' A 99 % THE IMPRISONED DEBTOR. ? o A Y- 1 stranger ! A /. Y Letr gentle A .'. Y' I hear the A ,\ YYI pity A/. YY faraish'd a.-. Y- I snatch him Y Y, debtor s A .'. Y Y from des A /. Y'l, prayer ! A.\ pair.J A Y' Though A "The And r And YY, harden'd Y' I guilt and A /. YY fol ly A/. YY revel A.*. here, A Y Y guiltless A/. Yl I many a A-.*. Y- I feel the A /. Y Y oft shed a .*. Y Y wrong in A /. Yl I many a A .'. YY si lence A/. YY bitter A/. Y' I they de A .\ I tear A Y r vour, r A ' f In Y; I vain my a .-. YY iron . I A ,\ Y I vows, my A /. Y Y hand of A .'. I Y j wants'" A Y- I ruthless A /. X cry r A Y-l power. . A A Y ' J loud for A .*. aidp A Since r A laws se A /. r IJYY vere with j rigour A .'.A /. Y Y are o A .'. Y' bey'd.T A 100 Y There r lies my A .-. wife, on A .-. Y' I I YY I Y I damp and 1 sickly 1 bed, r A .-. I A .-. I A 1 Her p A r With r To Y' MY' I peace de I stroy'd, her Y- I youth and A .-. n A.: all in A.-. 1,1 A .-. saw her A .-. Y Y child ex A .-. difte rent A--.. Y death r A ^ r her r A Y.Y spirits A.-. I r pire ' XJ sole de A .-. Y fled, r A sire. r A SONNET TO THE NIGHTINGALE. Sweet r | poet I of the I woods, 1 a I long a I dieu I" 1 I A J A.-. I .-. --I A .-. J A .-. I A Tare | well, r I soft 1 " I minstrel | f" fthe I early I year!!" A A A .-. .-. .-. A .-. A Ah ! I 'twill be A A .-. long i ere I thou shalt I sing a I new, r A .-.A .-. A .-.A And I pour thy | music I r on the | * night's r j dulir A I A ear. Whether on 1 spring r i thy r I wandering I flight a I wait, 1 " A -.-. I A I A I A -- | A .-. I A f"Or | whether I silent I in our | groves you | dwell, r I .-. A .-. A.-. A.-. A .-. A 101 r The I pensive I muse T shall A.-. A .-. own thee I for her J mate, r A .-.A .-. A r And I still pro I tect the I song 1 " she I loves so I well. r A .-.A .-. A .-.A .-.A r With cautious aTT step ~ l the A .-. love-lorn 1 vouth shall a .-. a ;. glide r A Through the A .-. lone A brake that A .-. shades thy A .-. mossy l nest ; r A. -J A r And I shepherd I girls, 1 from I eyes pro A .-. A .-. A .-. fane, shall A .-. hide r A r The | gentle I bird, r | who r 1 sings of 1 pi ty I best ; r A.-. A A A .-. A/.U r For I still thy 1 voice 1 shall I soft af .-. A .-. A .-. A.-. fection I move, n A.-. A r And | still be 1 dear to I sorrow I r and to I love. 1 A.-. A .% A.-. .-. A 4. SONNET TO NIGHT. I love thee, mournful sober-suited night, When the faint moon, yet lingering in her wane, And veil'd in clouds, with pale uncertain light, Hangs o'er the waters of the restless main. In deep depression sunk, the enfeebled mind Will to the deaf, cold elements complain, And tell the embosom'd grief, however vain, To sullen surges, and the viewless wind. 102 Though no repose on thy dark breast I find, I still enjoy thee, -cheerless as thou art ; For in thy quiet gloom, the exhausted heart Is calm, though wretched ; hopeless yet resign'd : While, to the winds and waves its sorrows given, May reach, though lost on earth, the ear of heaven. Smith, 5. ON TH& EFFECTS OF TIME AND CHANGE. Of chance or change, O let not man complain, Else should he never, never cease to wail ; For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale, All feel the assault of fortune's fickle gale ; Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doom'd ; Earthquakes have rais'd to heaven the humble vale, And gulfs the mountain's mighty mass entomb'd, And where the Atlantic rolls r wide continents have bloom'd. But sure to foreign climes we need not range, Nor search the ancient records of our race, To learn the dire effects of time and change, Which in ourselves, alas! we daily trace. 103 Yet at the darken'd eye, the wither' d face, Or hoary hair, I never shall repine : But spare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace, Of candour, love, or sympathy divine, Whate'er of fancy's ray, or friendship's flame is mine. Beat tie. 6. ON TRUE DIGNITY. Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose ; Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes ? Here Innocence may w r ander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph wings. O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes, When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, Shall never know the source r whence real gran- deur springs. Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire ? Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid : To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hirer It is thy weakness that requires their aid : To palaces, with gold and gems inlay'd ? They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm : 101 To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade? Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm ! Behold what deeds of wo r the locust can perform ! True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind Virtue has rais'd above the things below, Who, every hope and fear to heaven resign'd, Shrinks not, though Fortune aims her dreadful blow : This strain from midst the rocks was heard to flow In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star j And from embattled clouds emerging slow, Cynthia came riding on her silver car, And hoary mountain-cliffs r shone faintly from afar. Beattie. THE SOLDIER S DREAM. 3. Our bugles sang truce for the night-cloud had lower'd, And the sentinel stars 1 set their watch in the sky: And thousands had sunk ^ on the ground over- power'd, The weary to sleep, "> and the wounded to die. 105 When reposing that night ~ 1 on my pallet of straw, By the wolf-scaring faggot 1 that guarded the slain ; At the dead of the night " 1 a sweet vision I saw, And thrice ere the morning 1 I dream' d it again. Methought from the battle-field's ~l dreadful array. Far, far I had roam'd 1 on a desolate track : 'Twas autumn and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcom'd me back. 1 flew to the pleasant fields, "* travers'd so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats n bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain "" that the corn- reapers sung. Then pledg'd we the wine cup, and fondly I swore. From my home " 1 and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kiss'd me "* a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud 1 in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us-^-rest, thou art weary and worn ; And fain 1 was their war-broken soldier to stay o 106 But sorrow returned n with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. Campbell. THE HAMLET. The hinds how bless'd, who ne'er beguil'd To quit their hamlet's hawthorn-wild ; Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, For splendid care and guilty gain ! When morning's twilight-tinctur'd beam Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam, They rove abroad in ether blue, To dip the scythe in fragrant dew ; The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, That nodding shades a craggy dell. 'Midst gloomy shades, in warbles clear, Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear : On green untrodden banks they view The hyacinth's neglected hue ; In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, They spy the squirrel's airy bounds : 107 And startle from her aspen spray, Across the glen, the screaming jay : Each native charm their steps explore, Of Solitude's sequester'd lore. For them, the moon, with cloudless ray, Mounts to illume their home-ward way : Their weary spirits to relieve, The meadows incense breathe at eve. No riot mars the simple fare That o'er a glimmering hearth they share But when the curfew's measur'd roar Duly, the darkening valleys o'er, Has echo'd from the distant town, They wish no beds of cygnet-down, No trophied canopies, to close Their drooping eyes in quick repose. Their little sons, who spread the bloom Of health around the clay-built room, Or through the primros'd coppice stray, Or gambol in the new-mown hay ; Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine, Or drive afield the tardy kine ; Or hasten from the sultry hill To loiter at the shady rill : 108 Or climb the tali pine's gloomy crest. To rob the raven's ancient nest. Their humble porch with honied flowers The curling woodbine's shade embowers : From the trim garden's thymy mound, Their bees in busy swarms resound : Nor fell Disease before his time, Hastes to consume Life's golden prime ; But when their temples long have wore The silver crown of tresses hoar, As studious still calm peace to keep, Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. Warton. TO EVENING. If ought of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs, and dying gales, O nymph reserv'd, while now the bright-hair'd sun Sits in yon eastern tent, whose cloudy skirts, With brede etherial wove, O'erhang his wavy bed : 109 Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eye'd bat, With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small, but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum : Now teach me, Maid compos'd, To breathe some soften'd strain, Whose numbers stealing thro' thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit, As musing slow, I hail Thy genial lov'd return ! For when thy folding star arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours and Elves Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare their shadowy car 110 Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene, Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod, By thy religious gleams ; Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all, Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil. While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont. And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter, yelling thro' the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : Ill So long regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! Collins* CHAPTER XVII. VARIOUS PASSAGES OF POETRY SELECTED AS EXERCISES TO BE MARKED WITH THE A AND .\, THE PAUSES, BARS, OR CADENCES, THE QUANTITY AND THE ACCENTS. ) * \ m n * Tool long the fu ri ous god of war" 1 A A /. A--.-. A .-. A 1 X X n Xi X J" Has crush'd us with his Ir on car, "J A ,\ A .*. A.'. A 112 Y Y* 1 / / / U X} ("Has rag'd a long our ru in'd A .\ A .\ A.\ plains, r A 1 x \ Y Y ft Y' rHas soil'd their i with his cru el stains, i A .*. A .\ A.\ A y n B H } r Has sunk our youth in endless sleep, A .'. A .*. A.\ A ) r And t { made the A .\ widow'd A/. 1\ virgin ' weep. a.-.; a 2. TO MRS SIDDONS. .\ A A .\ y m t \ XI Y Y 1 Y- \ \ } r Ex pos'd to scenes 1 where varied pleasure , glows," 1 A A A A A .'. A .\ ' A ur}\t r And all the j lures ~> A v A which r A n vice for A .-. Y* I \ / beauty a .-. ) throws, i A US y\) h r 'Tis ; thine," 1 un ' .-.I A .-. y x y r And, tho' thou A .-. hurt r A j xx \) dangers A .-. X midst r A to re y main,r A X r The as bestos A.. feel'st its A .-. X ) thus "* the A .-. m Influence, A--.-. power of A .\ m / prove it A .-. vain,' n\? fire de A .-. fies," 1 A y TAnd, midst its A .-. y\\ vi o lence, A-.-. r un yx injur'd A.-. lies ; n A y TAnd, Y* 1 1 / / tho' de s A.-. X X tructive A.-. Y* 1 flames a A .-. X ( round it A .-. y roar, "l A Quits th A . Kit e fierce . A \y 1 furnace, 1 A.: perfect A.-. y\ as be A.-. 'X- fore. A i y i"But v whence r c A i y anst r u thou, with A .-. n feet un A .-. XX injur'd, A.-. J y tread r A X' r The w X X odd's dire y path, - ! A } with burni y ploug A y ishares X spread I r A r n Whence r can thy A A .-. 114 X { heart i temp A .\ w }{{ tation's power dis dain, A.-. A .\ I A y XX y\ Y - 1 Y* 1 } \ r / \ While r Envy's darts as sail thy : fame in vain ? A A.-. A .-. A .-.JA .-. A y O'en A y \ thee Re A .-. xx ligion's A.-. w sheltering A-.v xx pinions A.-. k wave, "" A ) XX X \ y \ YY X "And Virtue guards the wreath that Justice gave." 1 A.-. A .-. A .-. A... A THE MANIAC. Hark I the wild r maniac sings, to chide the gale A .\ A A-V.A .\ A .\ A r That wafts so slow " her lover's distant sail. ,\ A .\ A .\ A /. A .* A She, r sad spectatress ! r on the wintery shore, A A /.A/. .\ A-.\ A Watch'd the rude r surge, his shroudless corse that bore, A ,\ A A /. A .\ A /. A 115 Knew the pale r form, and, shrieking, in amaze, A /.A A /. A /. --/.A Clasp'd her cold r hands, and fix'd her maddening gaze. A .\ A A .\ A .*. A /. A Poor r widow'd wretch ! 'twas there she wept in vain, A A/. A .\ A /.A A Till r me mo ry fled r her a go nis ing brain. A A-.\ A A /.A/. A r But mercy gave, to charm the sense of wo, \ A .\ A /. A .\ A .\ A r I de al peace, that truth could ne'er bestow. \ A/. A ,% A ,\ A .\ A Warm 1 on her heart, the joys of fancy beam, A /. A /.A .\ A/. A r And aimless hope de lights her darkest dream. V. A i\ A /.A .\ A .\ A Douglas's account of the hermit. Beneath a mountain's brow, the most remote? And inaccessible, by shepherds trod, In a deep cave, dug by no mortal hand, A hermit liv'd ; a melancholy man, Who was the wonder of our wandering swains. Austere and lonely, cruel to himself, Did they report him ; the cold earth his bed, 116 Water his drink, his food the shepherds' alms. I went to see him, and my heart was touch'd, With reverence and with pity. Mild he spake, And, entering on discourse, such stories told, As made me oft revisit his sad cell. For he had been a soldier in his youth, And fought in famous battles, when the peers Of Europe, by the bold Godfredo led, Against the usurping infidels, display'd The blessed cross, and won the holy land. Pleas'd with my admiration, and the fire His speech struck from me, the old man would shake His years away, and act his young encounters ; Then having show'd his wounds, he'd sit him down, And, all the live-long day, discourse of war. To help my fancy, in the smooth green turf He cut the figures of the marshall'd hosts, Describ'd the motions, and explain'd the use Of the deep column and the lengthen'd line, The square, the crescent, and the phalanx firm : For all that Saracen or Christian knew Of war's vast art, was to this hermit known. Home. 117 HELENA CHIDING HERMIA. Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid, Have you conspir'd, have you with these contrivM To bait me with this foul derision ? Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting, us ; oh ! and is all forgot ? All school-days friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Created with our needles both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion ; Both warbling of one song, both in one key, As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate. Lo, we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet a union in partition ; Two lovely berries, moulded-on one stem ; So with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; Two of the first, like coats of heraldry, Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. And will you rend our ancient love asunder, To join with men ia scorning your poor friend ? 118 It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury. Shakespeare. Griffith's description of cardinal wolsey Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good word ? This Cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle : He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading ; Lofty and sour, to them that lov'd him not, But to those that sought him, sweet as summer ; And tho' he were unsatisfy'd in getting, Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, Madam, He was most princely ; ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford ! One of which fell with him, Unwilling to out-live the good he did it : The other, tho' unfinish'd yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 119 His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little : And to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God. Shakespeare, 7. HYMN TO ADVERSITY. Daughter of Jove, relentless power, Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and torturing hour The bad affright, afflict the best ! Bound in thy adamantine chain, The proud are taught to taste of pain, And purple tyrants vainly groan, With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone. When first thy sire to send on earth Virtue, his darling, child, design'd, To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade thee form her infant mind. Stern rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore ; What sorrow was thou bad'st her know ; And from her own she learn'd to melt at others wo. 120 Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood, Wild laughter, noise, and thoughtless joy, And leave us leisure to be good. Light they disperse, and with them go The summer friend, the flattering foe ; By vain prosperity received, To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. Wisdom, in sable garb array 'd, Immers'd in rapturous thought profound , And Melancholy, silent maid, With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy solemn steps attend, Warm Charity, the general friend, With Justice, to herself severe, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head, Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, Nor circled with the vengeful band, (As by the impious thou art seen,) With thundering voice and threatening mein, With screaming Horror's funeral cry, Despair, and fell disease, with ghastly Poverty. 121 Thy form benign, Oh, Goddess, wear, Thy milder influence impart, Thy philosophic train be there, To soften, not to wound my heart : The generous spark extinct revive, Teach me to love, and to forgive, Exact my own defects to scan, What others are to feel, and know myself a man. 10. TO LIBERTY. STROPHE. Who shall awake the Spartan fife, And call in solemn sounds to life, The youths, whose locks divinely spreading, Like vernal hyacinths in sullen hue, At once the breath of fear and virtue shedding, Applauding Freedom lov'd of old to view ? And now Alcaeus, fancy-blest, 1 Shall sing the sword, in myrtles drest, At Wisdom's shrine a-while its flame concealing, (What place so fit to seal a deed renown'd ?) Till she her brightest lightnings round revealing, It leap'd in glory forth, and dealt her prompted wound ! 122 O Goddess, in that feeling hour, When most its sounds would court thy ears, Let not thy shell's misguided power, E'er draw thy sad, thy mindful tears. No, Freedom, no, I will not tell, How Rome, before thy weeping face, With heaviest sound, a giant-statue, fell, Push'd by a wild and artless race, From off its wide ambitious base, When Time his northern sons of spoil awoke, And all the blended work of strength and grace, With many a rude repeated stroke, And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke. FIRST EPODE. Yet even, where'er the least appear'd, The admiring world thy hand rever'd ; Still, 'midst the scatter'd states around, Some remnants of her strength were found j They saw, by what escap'd the storm, How wonderous rose her perfect form ; How in the great, the labour'd whole, Each mighty master pour'd his soul ! 123 For sunny Florence, seat of art, Beneath her vines preserv'd a part, Till they, whom Science lov'd to name, (O who could fear it ?) quench'd her flame. And lo, an humbler relic laid In jealous Pisa's olive shade ! See small Marino joins the theme, Tho' least, not last in thy esteem. Strike, louder strike the ennobling strings To those, whose merchant sons were kings ; To him, who, deck'd with pearly pride, In Adria weds his green-hair'd bride : Hail port of glory, wealth, and pleasure, Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure : Nor e'er her former pride relate, To sad Liguria's bleeding state. Ah, no 1 more pleas'd thy haunts I seek, On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak ; (Where, when the favour'd of thy choice, The daring archer heard thy voice ; Forth from his eyrie rous'd in dread, The ravening Eagle northward fled :) Or dwell in willow'd meads more near, With those * to whom thy stork is dear : * The Dutch. 124 Those whom the rod of Alva bruis'd, Whose crown a British queen refus'd ! The magic works, thou feelst the strains, One holier name alone remains ; The perfect spell shall then avail, Hail Nymph ! ador'd by Britain, hail ! ANTISTKOPHE. Beyond the measure vast of thought, The works, the wizard time has wrought ! The Gaul, 'tis held of antique story, Saw Britain link'd to his now adverse strand, No sea between, nor cliff sublime and hoary, He pass'd with unwet feet thro* all our land. To the blown Baltic then, they say, The wild waves found another way, Where Orcas howls, his wolfish mountains rounding; Till all the banded west at once *gan rise, A wide wild storm even Nature's self confounding, Wither'd her giant sons with strange uncouth surprise. The pillar'd earth so firm and wide, By winds and inward labours torn, In thunders dread was push'd aside, And down the shouldering billows borne. 125 And see, like gems, her laughing train, The little isles on every side, Mona, # once hid from those who search the main, Where thousand Elfin shapes abide, And Wight who checks the western tide, For thee consenting heaven has each bestow'd, A fair attendant on her sovereign pride : To thee this last divorce she ow'd, For thou hast made her vales thylov'd, thy last abode! SECOND EPODE. Then too, 'tis said, a hoary pile, 'Midst the green centre of our isle, Thy shrine in some religious wood, O soul-enforcing Goddess, stood ! There oft the painted natives' feet Were wont thy form celestial meet : Though now with hopless toil we trace Time's backward rolls, to find its place : Whether the fiery-tressed Dane, Or Roman's self o'erturn'd the fane, Or in what heaven-left age it fell, 'Twere hard for modern song to tell. * The isle of Man. 126 Yet still, if truth these beams infuse, Which guide at once, and charm the Muse, Beyond yon braided clouds that lie, Paving the light-embroider'd sky, Amidst the bright pavilion'd plains, The beauteous Model still remains. There happier than in islands blest, Or bowers by Spring or Hebe drest, The chiefs who fill our Albion's story, In warlike weeds, retir'd in glory, Hear their consorted Druids sing Their triumphs to the immortal string. How may the poet now unfold, What never tongue nor numbers told ? How learn delighted, and amaz'd, What hands unknown that fabric rais'd ? Even now, before his favour'd eyes, In Gothic pride it seems to rise ! Yet Grecia's graceful orders join, Majestic thro' the mix'd design ; The secret builder knew to choose, Each sphere-found gem of richest hues : Whatever heaven's purer mold contains, When nearer suns emblaze its veins ; 121 There, on the walls, the Patriot's sight May ever hang with fresh delight, And, grav'd with some prophetic rage, Read Albion's fame thro' every age. Ye forms divine, ye laureat band, That near her inmost altar stand ! Now soothe her, to her blissful train, Blithe Concord's social form to gain : Concord, whose myrtle wand can steep Even Anger's blood-shot eyes in sleep : Before whose breathing bosom's balm, Rage drops his steel, and storms grow calm ; Her let our sires and matrons hoar Welcome to Britain's ravag'd shore, Our youths, enamour'd of the fair, Play with the tangles of her hair, Till, in one land applauding sound, The nations shout to her around, O how supremely art thou blest, Thou, Lady, thou shalt rule the west ! Collins. 128 CHAPTER XVIII. VARIOUS PASSAGES OF POETRY SELECTED AS EXERCISES, TO BE MARKED WITH THE FIVE ACCIDENTS OF LANGUAGE, VIZ. A AND .'., PAUSES, QUANTITY, AND ACCENTS, AND FORCE OR QUALITY OF SOUND. LOUD MARKED **, LOUDER MARK- ED n . SOFT MARKED "*, SOFTER MARKED * '. This accident of language, viz. Force or Quality of Sounds is only occasionally used ; it depends on the nature of the subject, and the taste and judg- ment of the reader or speaker $ it is, therefore, ad libitum ; it is totally independent of the heavy and the light syllables, which are never ad libitum, but positively fixed, in all words, except monosyllables. The loud or soft, i. e. the Forte or Piano, is al- ways upon whole words or sentences, never upon syllables. The following four lines are spoken in slow walk- ing measure. Walking measure means, that the duration of the whole quantity of syllables con- 129 tained in one cadence, that is, as much as is mark- ed between two bars, should be equal to the time of making one step of walking ; which admits the varieties of slow, ordinary, and quick walking ; the next degree, above which, in velocity, is running measure. } H Soft r is the A A .'. 1 1 ^ O X \ xx n } strain A 1 when Zephyr A /. gently A.\ blows, A ai o O Q aa i O 1 ) { And the smooth i A stream "I in A /. * O O smoother A.\ Y Y / / numbers A /. \ flows; A Butr w hen r A| A loud r A r I o f*p Hinin surges J lash the \ sounding A .\|A ,\ A .\ / p I ^/ > i *> p p ) shore, r A \\\ r i The hoarse r /. A P PC X rough A } \ verse " should A PP X \ n X like the "> torrent roar, r A /. A/. A P PP pr* o * PP ft Dire r I Scylla | there ? a A J A /. I A /. r And I here Cha j rybdis T .\ A .\ A .% 130 scene of I horror I forms, r I A /. I A.\| A fills the I deep with | storms : A .\ A .\ A When the A /. tide r A rushes ^ A/. fl ora her A .. rumbling A /. caves, r A / f* n r The rough r A rock i" A roars A . r 1 rtu multuous A--/. boil the A .\ waves, r A /> m on ro oo r 3. With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill, he heaves a huge round stone ; The huge round stone resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. 4. 'Tis Rome demands our tears : The mistress of the world, the seat of empire ! The nurse of heroes, the delight of gods ! That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth, And set the nations free Rome is no more ! Oh liberty ! Oh virtue ! Oh my country ! How the sweet moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sound of music 131 Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. 6. . Thou slave ! thou wretch ! thou coward ! Thou little valiant great in villany ! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! Thou Fortune's champion, thou dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety i Thou art perjur'd too, And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear, Upon my party ! Thou cold blooded knave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ? Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ? And dost thou now fall over to my foes ? Thou wear a lion's hide ! Doff it for shame, And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs. Shakespeare. 7. Ye amaranths ! ye roses like the morn ! Sweet myrtles, and ye golden orange groves ! Joy-giving, love-inspiring, holy bower ! Know, in thy fragrant bosom thou receiv'st A murderer ! Oh, I shall stain thy lilies, And horror will usurp the place of bliss ! 132 Ah, she sleeps,- The day's uncommon heat has overcome her. Then take, my longing eyes, your last full gaze. Oh ! what a sight is here ! how dreadful fair ! Who would not think that being innocent ! Where shall I strike ? Who strikes her strikes him- self My own life-blood will issue at her wound But see ! she smiles ! I never shall smile more It strongly tempts me to a parting kiss. Ha ! smile again ! she dreams of him she loves. Curse on her charms ! I'll stab her through them nil f **! * Youngs Revenge. 8. You have resolv'd your faithless bride shall die : That's truly great. What think you 'twas set up The Greek and Roman name in such a lustre, But doing right in stern despite to nature, Shutting their ears to all her little cries, When great, august, and god-like justice call'd ? At Aulis, one pour'd out a daughter's life, And gain more glory than by all his wars ; Another, in just rage, his sister slew : A third, the theme of all succeeding times, Gave to the cruel axe a darling son : 133 Nay, more, for justice some devote themselves, As he at Carthage, an immortal name i Yet there is one step left above them all, Above their history, above their fable : A wife, bride, mistress of your heart do that, And tread upon the Greek and Roman glory. Youngs Revenge- zanga's reason for hating alonzo. 'Tis twice five years since that great man (Great let me call him, for he conquer'd me,) Made me the captive of his arm in fight. He slew my father, and threw chains o'er me, While I, with pious rage, pursu'd revenge. I then was young ; he plac'd me near his person, And thought me not dishonour'd by his service. One day (may that returning day be night The stain, the curse, of each succeeding year !) For something, or for nothing, in his pride He struck me : (while I tell it, do I live ?) He smote me on the cheek ! 1 did not stab him : That were poor revenge. E'er since, his folly Has striven to bury it beneath a heap Of kindnesses, and thinks it is forgot : 134 Insolent thought, and like a second blow I Has the dark adder venom ? So have I, When trod upon. Proud Spaniard, thou shalt feel me! By nightly march, he purpos'd to surprise The Moorish camps : but I have taken care They shall be ready to receive his favour. Failing in this, (a cast of utmost moment,) "Would darken all the conquests he has won. Be propitious, O Mahomet, on this important hour j And give, at length, my famish'd soul revenge ! Youngs Revenge* 9. ZANGA. Joy, thou welcome stranger ! twice three years 1 have not felt thy vital beam, but now It warms my veins, and plays around my heart : A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground, And I could mount the spirits numberless Of my dear countrymen, which yesterday Left their poor bleeding bodies on the field, Are all assembled here, and o'er inform me O bridegroom ! great indeed thy present bliss, Yet even by me unenvy'd ; for be sure It is thy last, thy last smile, that which now Sits on thy cheek : enjoy it while thou may'st: 135 Anguish, and groans, and death, bespeak to-morrow. Thus far my deep-laid plots and dark designs Go well . Ah ! what is well ? O pang to think ! O dire necessity ! is this my province ? Whither, my soul, Ah ! whither art thou sunk Beneath thy sphere ? Ere while, far, far above Such little arts, dissemblings, falsehoods, frauds j The trash of villany itself, which falls To cowards and poor wretches wanting bread. Does this become a soldier ? this become Whom armies follow'd, and a people lov'd ? My martial glory withers at the thought. But great my end : and since there are no other, These means are just, they shine with borrow'd light, Illustrious from the purpose they pursue. And greater sure my merit, who, to gain A point sublime can such a task sustain ; To wade thro' ways obscene, my honour bend, And shock my nature, to attain my end. Late time shall wonder ; that my joys will raise, For wonder is involuntary praise. Young's Revenge* 136 10. glocester's soliloquy on his own deformity. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths > Our stern alarms are chang'd to merry meetings ; Our dreadful marches to delightful measures : Grim-visag'd war has smooth'd his wrinkled front } And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds, To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not made for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ; I, that am curtail' d of man's fair proportion, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionably That dogs do bark at me as I halt by them ; Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away my hours, Unless to see my shadow in the sun, And descant on my own deformity. Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, But to command, to check, and o'erbear such As are of happier person than myself, 137 Why, then, to me this restless world's but hell, Till this mis-shapen trunk's aspiring head Be circled in a glorious diadem. But then, 'tis fix'd on such a height Oh ! I Must stretch the utmost reaching of my soul. I'll climb betimes, without remorse or dread, And my first step shall be on Henry's head. Richard III. CHAPTER XIX. SELECT EXAMPLES IN PROSE, WHERE THE STUDENT IS EXER- CISED IN APPLYING THE PRECEDING RULES. It will be observed, perhaps, with surprise, that Prose is not the leading article in this selection ; although it is always placed^r^^ in school-books, being considered the more simple composition, and consequently the more easily read. And indeed, according to the present mode, generally practised, of teaching Elocution, I might almost have said universally, for I know of only one exception^ it is of s 138 no consequence whether prose or verse is the initi- atory article. The student may, I believe, acquire, by practice, a little more readiness in reading by rote or mere imitation ; but while the necessary accidents of language, explained in the eight first chapters, are so completely misunderstood, and of course neglected or misapplied, no higher degree of accuracy in reading either prose or verse can reasonably be expected. So far is prose from being easier than verse, that it is by far the more difficult of the two. It must be evident to all who are versed in the rhythmus of language, that prose is much more irregular in its cadences ; and the integral quantities of each are not, as in verse, limited to any obviously de- termined rule. While experience, on the contrary, proves to us, that the measured rhythmus of verse, the regularity of its cadences, and the nice adjust- ment of their integral quantities, though diversified in themselves within the cadence, are, beyond all question, best adapted to give that smoothness, har- mony and expression to Prose, which, I have no hesitation in saying, can never be acquired merely through the medium of prose alone. But, till a correct knowledge of the melody or music of language, viz. the accents, of quantity, of pulsation and remission, &c. and consequently, a more distinct and accurate perception of cadence and rhythmus be acquired, we must not be sur- prised to hear such peculiarities of tone, such same- 139 2i ess of inflection, such unvaried monotony, and such a perversion of musical cadence and rhythmus, as violently to shock any tolerably cultivated ear, and totally to destroy our finest verses ; and fre- quently so completely to eclipse the sense, with sounds which none but a prosodian, equipped cap-a- pee with all the prosodial machinery, could be able , To scan With Midas ears, committing short and long.' It must be through the medium of verse that the ear can be properly tuned, and taught that ac- curacy and delicacy of perception, by which alone harmonious reading can be effectually acquired. It need hardly be noticed, that this can only be obtained by the living instructor. No rules pre- sented in the dead letter, will ever make an accu- rate pronouncer, much less a good reader or speaker. Nor will mere imitation ever accomplish this im- portant purpose. The student may, it is true, in proportion as he possesses the power of mimickry, pronounce what his teacher pronounced before him, with tolerable accuracy ; but present him with a piece he has never heard read, and, as he has no- thing to imitate, he cannot read he may, however, pronounce the piece. But hard necessity compels the professors of the art of reading to teach in this manner, and natu- rally induces them to condemn what they do not understand \ to exclaim against all rules \ to assert 140 that science, and hard technical names, as they call them, are merely the machinery of empirics, and have nothing to do with the plain, simple, natural mode of teaching, with elegance, to read both prose and verse. I have heard this sometimes said, I have seen it advertised, and I know the ignorant and crafty play it off with too much success against the uninformed parent and guardian, and the credulous and unsuspecting pupil. I have never heard one of these readers but with pain, generally accompanied with emotions of pity. I never knew a pupil taught upon such principles, and I have had many who have attended such profes- sors. The truth is, that nature, in this, as in many other things, must lay the foundation, but science and art must raise the superstructure. And the reader or speaker, who is master of his art, never forgets this grand rule, Ars est celare or tern. The student should be exercised in marking the pulsation and remission of as many of the following passages as may be necessary to make him tho- roughly acquainted with prosaic rhythmus ; he may then mark the cadences, which he will find to be very different from those of verse, with which he has been accustomed ; he should proceed and mark the pauses or rests, the quantity, the accents and, lastly, he should be taught to distinguish where the loud and soft, the jorte and piano, should be placed, with all their different shades of variety. By this mode of tuition, presuming always that he is com- 141 pletely master of the preceding rules, he will be able easily to apply the jive accidents of language to the diversified, and constantly varying rhythmus of prose. He may also be occasionally required to point out the changes of time, whether common or triple. 1. j i y ) shall de A /. i j y Y Y 7 / 1 J \ \ \ / \ ;ain you no longer, r in the A /. A .'. u demon A .'. not do, A .'. u ^ to a stration of A/. Y Y / / what we A /. X but r A \ straight con 1 should r A ) J duct you A .'. y hill r A side, r A f ) x \ > point you out r the i right r A .\ A where I will A .\ x u path of a A /. 142 noble " and A/. rm borious, in A '7. " y y-i \ H \ virtuous A .*. Y Y edu A/. n cation ; " A.'. Ha I ) \ -tx deed, r at the T first as- A A .*. A.\ y x cent, r A X J green, r so A .'. but 1 " A full of A .'. Y Y / 7 else so A .. 1 smooth, r so A n n { i goodly prospects r and mel A .'. A .'. \\ \- { di ous ~* sounds on A /. ^ . M? J { every side, that the ^ / * \ A A X { V | | / // X X t harp of "" A /. Orphe us A "/? was r A not more n A /. mg. } charm- A Milton. 143 2. Porticoes I which with I stood the as I sault of A /. I A ,\ I A .\l A .\ time r I more than I ten r J thousand years; r A I A .\ I A I A broken I columns of I different I lengths, r I ris- a;, I a:. I a-/. I a I a ing ] r at a con I siderable I distance 1 r with- / I .\ .\ I A.*.-/. I A/. I in the I limits I r of the I same r I pile ; r I sculp- A I A/. I .\ -I A I A I A tured 1 portals, I through r I whose r I frowning I A .\ I A I A I A .\ arches the I wind r I passed with a I hollow A ' " I A I A .\ I A .\ murmuring; r I numberless 1 figures en I graven A /. I A /. I A/. I A/. r on the pi I lastersof 1 those 1 " I portals; I - and ,\ /. I A/," I A I A/. I ,\ multitudes of I hiero I glyphics I r on the I dif- A--.-. I A-.-. I A .-. I .-. I A ferent parts of the A .-. spacious aTT gave the A traveller a I mournful I r and mag I nificent A .-. A .-. I .-. I A-.\ 144 i I dea I r of the I pristine I grandeur of A .-. I .-. I A .-. A .-. this r I edifice. A I A- M Langhornes Soli/man and Almcna. 3. Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil the bet- ter artist ; in the one, we must admire the man, in the other the work. Homer hurries us with a com- manding impetuosity ; Virgil leads us with an at- tractive majesty. Homer scatters with a generous profusion ; Virgil bestows with a careful magnifi- cence. Homer, like the Nile, pours out his riches with a sudden overflow ; Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a constant stream. Pope's Preface to Homer. 4. Something of a doubtful mist still hangs over these Highland traditions ; nor can it be entirely dispelled by the most ingenious researches of mo- dern criticism ; but, if we could, with safety, in- dulge the pleasing supposition that Fingal lived, and that Ossian sung, the striking contrast of the situation and manners of the contending nations, might amuse a philosophical mind. The parallel would be little to the advantage of the more civil- 145 ized people, if we compared the unrelenting re- venge of Severus with the generous clemency of Fingal ; the timid and brutal conduct of Caracalla, with the bravery, the tenderness, the elegant ge- nius of Ossian ; the mercenary chiefs who, from motives of fear or interest, served under the impe- rial standard, with the free-born warriors who start- ed to arms at the voice of the king of Morven ; if, in a word, we contemplated the untutored Caledo- nians, glowing with the warm virtue of nature, and the degenerate Romans, polluted with the mean vices of wealth and slavery. Gibbon' 5. It is well known that constitutions framed for the preservation of liberty, must consist of many parts ; and that senates, popular assemblies, courts of justice, magistrates of different orders, must com- bine to balance each other, while they exercise, sustain, or check, the executive power. If any part is struck out, the fabric must totter or fall ; if any member is remiss, the others must encroach. In assemblies constituted by men of different talents, habits, and apprehensions, it were something more than human that could make them agree in every point of importance : having different opinions and views, it were want of integrity to abstain from disputes ; our very praise of unanimity, therefore, is to be considered as a danger to liberty. We wi\sh T 146 for it at the hazard of taking in its place the re- missness of men grown indifferent to the public ; the venality of those who have sold the rights of their country ; or the servility of others, who give implicit obedience to a leader, by whom their minds are subdued. The love of the public, and respect to its laws, are the points on which mankind are bound to agree ; but if, in matters of controversy, the sense of any individual or party is invariably pursued, the cause of freedom is already betrayed. Ferguson's Hist, of Civ. Society- 6. But how can these considerations consist with pride and insolence, which are repugnant to every social and virtuous sentiment ? Do you, proud man ! look back with complacency on the illustri- ous merits of your ancestors ! Show yourself wor- thy of them by imitating their virtues, and disgrace not the name which you bear by a conduct unbe- coming a man. Were your progenitors such as you are fond to represent them, be assured that if they rose from the grave, they would be ashamed of you. If they resembled yourself, you have no reason to boast of them, and wisdom will dictate to you to cultivate those manners which alone can dig- nify your family. Nothing can be conceived more inconsistent than to exult in illustrious ancestry, and to do what must disgrace it, than to mention with ostentation the distinguished merits of progeni- 147 tors, and to exhibit a melancholy contrast to them in character. Will you maintain that, because your fathers were good and brave men, you are autho- thorised to abandon the pursuit of all that is de- cent and respectable ? For, to this sentiment, the pride of family, whenever it forms a characteristic feature, never fails to lead the mind. In a word, considered in its specific nature, and carried to its utmost extent, it lays down this maxim, " That " ancestry gives a right to dishonour and degrade itself." After all, what is high birth ? Does it bestow a nature different from that of the rest of mankind ? Has not the man of ancient line human blood in his veins ? Does he not experience hunger and thirst ? Is he not subject to disease, to accidents, and to death ? and must not his body moulder in the grave, as well as that of the beggar ? Can he, or any of his race, " redeem his brother by any means, or give God a ransom for him ?" Go back only a few generations, of which the number is much smaller than you imagine it to be, and you arrive at Adam, the progenitor of us all. Browns Sermons- We sympathise even with the dead, and, overlook- ing what is of real importance in their situation, that awful futurity which awaits them, we are chiefly affected by those circumstances which strike our 148 senses, but can have no influence upon their happi- ness. It is miserable, we think, to be deprived of the light of the sun ; to be shut out from life and conversation ; to be hid in the cold grave, a prey to corruption and the reptiles of the earth, to be no more thought of in this world, but to be obliterated in a little time, from the affections, and almost from the memory of their dearest friends and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never feel too much for those who have suffered so dreadful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow-feelings seems doubly due to them now, when they are in danger of being for- got by every body ; and, by the vain honours which we pay to their memory, we endeavour, for our own misery, artificially to keep alive our melancholy re- membrance of their misfortune. That our sympa- thy can afford them no consolation, seems to be an addition to their calamity ; and to think that all that we can do is unavailing ; and that what alleviates all other distress, the regret, the love, and the la- mentation of their friends, can yield no comfort to them, serves only to exasperate the sense of their misery. The happiness of the dead, however, most as- suredly is affected by none of these circumstances ; nor is it the thought of these things which can ever disturb the profound security of their repose. The idea of that dreary and endless melancholy which the fancy naturally ascribes to their condi- tion, arises altogether from our joining to the change 149 which has been produced upon them, our own con- sciousness of that change, from our putting our- selves in their situation, and from our lodging, if I may be allowed to say so, our own living souls in their inanimated bodies, and thence conceiving what would be our emotions in this case. It is from this very illusion of the imagination, that the foresight of our own dissolution is so terrible to us, and that the idea of those circumstances, which undoubtedly, can give us no pain when we are dead, makes us miserable while we are alive. Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments- I consider a generous mind as the noblest work of the creation, and am persuaded, wherever it re- sides, no real merit can be wanting. It is, perhaps, the most singular of all the moral endowments ; T am sure at least, it is often imputed where it can- not justly be claimed. The meanest self-love, un- der some refined disguise, frequently passes upon common observers for this god-like principle ; and I have known many a popular action attributed to this motive, when it flowed from no higher a source than the suggestions of concealed vanity. Good- nature, as it hath many features in common witli this virtue, is usually mistaken for it ; the former, however, is but the effect, possibly, of a happy dis- position of the animal structure, or, as Dryden somewhere calls it, of a certain u milkiness of 150 blood ;" whereas the latter is seated in the mind, and can never subsist where good sense and enlarged sentiments have no existence. It is entirely found- ed, indeed, upon justness of thought, which, per- haps, is the reason this virtue is so little the cha- racteristic of mankind in general. A man whose mind is warped by the selfish passions, or contract- ed by the narrow prejudices of sects or parties, if he does not want honesty, must undoubtedly want understanding. The same clouds that darken his intellectual views, obstruct his moral ones ; and his generosity is extremely circumscribed, because his reason is exceedingly limited. True generosity rises above the ordinary rules of social conduct, and flows with much too full a stream to be com- prehended within the precise marks of formal pre- cepts. It is a vigorous principle in the soul, which opens and expands ail her virtues far beyond those which are only the forced and unnatural produc- tions of a timid obedience. The man who is in- fluenced singly by motives of the latter kind, aims no higher than at certain authoritative standards ; without even attempting to reach those glorious elevations, which constitute the only true heroism of the social character. Religion, without this sovereign principle, degenerates into a slavish fear, and wisdom into a specious cunning ; learning is but the avarice of the mind, and wit its more pleas- ing kind of madness. In a word, generosity sanc- tifies every passion, and adds grace to every acquis 151 sition of the soul ; and if it does not necessarily include, at least it reflects a lustre upon ^he whole circle of moral and intellectual qualities. Melmoth's Letters of Fiizosbornc* 9. There is a kind of voice that speaks through the universe. The language of nature is that of de- light ; and even the parts incapable of admitting this delight, have yet the means of imparting it. Behold the sun ! The lustre which it spreads, and the beauties which it enables you to discover, kindle your admiration. The Indian views it with rapture. He feels gratitude for its bounty. He addresses the God of Fire with hvmns of praise, and songs of triumph. But in vain should he attempt to make that sun share his gratification. It heeds no pro- testations ; it feels no emotions : but that orb ad- ministers to the comfort of the devotee, and conveys animation and cheerfulness to millions. The struc- ture of the heavens manifests such design, and wis- dom, that some of the ancient philosophers suppos- ed man born only to view and admire them. The bounty displayed in the earth, equals the grandeur conspicuous in the heavens. There is no region in which the volume of instruction is not unfolded. In every climate is found proper food for the support of the inhabitants, and proper medicines for the removal of their diseases. And should every age even change its food, and its diseases, there would 152 still be found in the world supplies sufficient for the inhabitant. So bountiful and provident is nature ! The distribution of oceans, seas, and rivers ; the variety of fields, meadows, and groves ; the luxu- riance of fruits, herbs, and flowers ; the return of spring, summer, autumn* and winter, not only re- gular in their approaches, but bringing with them presents, to make their return desirable ; the plea- sant vicissitudes of day and night ; all have a voice which, by telling man he is constantly receiving favours, reminds him he should be ready to bestow them. Dyer's Dissertation on Benevolence. CHAPTER XX. SACRED PIECES IN PROSE AND VERSE, Within the whole range, through which the ex- ercise of this valuable talent, the art of Reading is extended, Impressive reading will be found no where so requisite, as in delivering the Scriptures. Impressive reading, besides possessing the requisites 153 of intelligible and correct reading, must, in addition, have the following, viz. expression of the voice, ex- pression of the countenance, direction of the eye, variety of manner, as to rapidity of delivery, and rhetorical pauses. The composition of the Sacred Oracles is of that original and various character, which demands every effort on his part, who is called upon to de- liver them for the instruction of others. Hardly is there a chapter, which does not con- tain something, which requires the m ost impressive reading ; as remonstrance, threatening, command, encouragement, sublime description, awful judg- ments. The narrative is interrupted by frequent, and often unexpected transitions ; by bold and unusual figures ; and by precepts of most extensive appli- cation and most admirable use. In the narrative, the reader should deliver him- self with a suitable simplicity and gravity of de- meanour. In the transitions, which are often ra- pid, he should manifest a quick conception, and by rhetorical pauses and suitable changes of voice, ex- press and render intelligible, the new matter or change of scene. In the figurative and sublime, which every where abound, his voice should be sonorous, and his countenance expressive of the elevation of his subject. In the precepts, he should deliver himself with judgment and discretion ; and when he repeats the words and precepts of our Lord himself, with more distinguished mildness, u 154 mingled with dignified authority* Such reading would be a perpetual and luminous commentary on the Sacred Writings ; and would convey more solid instruction than the most learned and brilliant ser- mons. 1. moses' song. Exod. chap. XV. 3 r I will | sing | unto the I Lord, r ...\ A.\ A-.\ A r For he hath A.\ triumph'd A.'. gloriously ; A /. r The I horse and his | rider" 1 1 hath he ! thrown .\| A .\|a.\Ia .\| A/. into the A- !. sea r | A ! 2. r The | Lord is my I strength and my 1 song, r # \| A .\'| A .VI A r And 1 he has be I come my, sal I vation : .\ I A/. I A .-.-I A/. He is I my r I God, r A/. I A I A r And I I will pre | pare him 1 a I ha bi I tation ; V. |A.\" I A / -I A/. I A/. r My I fathers' I God, r and I I will ex I alt him. I J.\A.\ I A .\ | AV.- I A /. I 155 r The I Lord is a I man of I war ; r .'. I A .'. 1 A /. I A r The I Lord is his I name. r A - .'. A Pharaoh's A.-. chariots A.-. r and his host r A Hath he I cast A .\ I A r I into the I Sea ; r I J A - .-. | A r His | chosen I captains I also A.. A .-. A.-. r Are I drown'd in the | Red r A .% A I sea. r I A I The I depths have | cover'd | them ; r A .% A.-. A They I sank into the bottom I as a A.-. A- stone A r l 6. r Thy I right hand, | O Lord, 1 .-. I A .-. |A.-. I Is be 1 come r I glorious in I power: A '.*. A .*. 156 Thy I right hand, I O Lord, .-. I A .-. I A .-. ifath r I dash'd in | pieces the I enemy. A A .-. A A- . And in the greatness of thine excellency, Thou hast overthrown them that rose up against thee ; Thou sentest forth thy wrath, Which consum'd them as a stubble. 8. And with the blast of thy nostrils The waters were gather'd together : The floods stood upright as a heap, And the depths were congeaPd r in the midst of the sea. 9. The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil : My lust shall be satisfied upon them, I will draw my sword, My hands shall destroy them. 157 10. Thou didst blow with thy winds, The sea cover' d them : They sank as lead r in the mighty waters. 11. Who is like unto thee, O Lord, amongst the gods ? Who is like thee, Glorious in holiness, Fearful in praises, Doing wonders ? 12. Thou stretchedst out thy right hand, The earth 1 swallow 'd them. 13. Thou, in thy mercy, Hast led the people which thou hast redeemed ; Thou hast guided them in thy strength, Unto thy holy habitation. 14. The people shall hear, and be afraid : Sorrow shall take hold on the inhabitants of Palestina. 158 15. Then the dukes of Edom shall be amaz'd ; The mighty men of Moab, Trembling shall take hold upon them $ All the inhabitants of Canaan shall melt away. 16. Fear and dread 1 shall fall upon them ; By the greatness of thine arm, They shall be still as a stone ; Till the people pass over, O Lord, Till the people pass over, Which thou hast purchas'd. 17. Thou shalt bring them in, And plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance , In the place, O Lord, Which thou hast made for thee to dwell in ; In the sanctuary, O Lord, Which thy hands have established. 18. The Lord shall reign r for ever and ever. 159 19. For the horse of Pharaoh went in, with his chariots, And with his horsemen into the sea, And the Lord brought again the waters of the sea upon them, But the children of Israel went on dry land, In ttie midst of the sea. 21. Sing ye to the Lord, For he hath triumph'd gloriously, The horse and his rider Hath he thrown into the sea. 2> Habakkuk) chap, iii. O Lord, I have heard thy speech, and was afraid. O Lord, revive thy work in the midst of the years. In the midst of the years made known j In wrath remember mercy. God came from Teman, And the Holy One from Mount Paran, His glory cover'd the heavens, And the earth was full of his praise. And his brightness was as the light, He had horns coming out of his hand., 160 And there was the hiding of his power. Before him went the pestilence, And burning coals went forth at his feet. He stood and measured the earth : He beheld, and drove asunder the nations, And the everlasting mountains were scatter'd, The perpetual hills did bow : His ways are everlasting. I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction ; And the curtains of the land of Midian did tremble.- Although the fig-tree should not blossom ; Neither shall fruit be in the vines ; The labour of the olives shall fail, And the fields shall yield no meat ; The lock shall be cut off from the fold, And there shall be no herd in the stalls : Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation. 3. Isaiah,, chap. i. Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth, For the Lord hath spoken : I have nourished and brought up children, And they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, And the ass his master's crib ; 161 But Israel doth not know, My people doth not consider. Ah sinful nation, A people laden with iniquity, A seed of evil doers ; Children that are corrupters ; They have forsaken the Lord ; They have provok'd the Holy One of Israel unto anger ; They are gone away backward. Hear the word of the Lord, Ye rulers of Sodom ; Give ear unto the law of our God, Ye people of Gomorrah. To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto me ? Saith the Lord : I am full of the burn'd offerings of rams, And the fat of fed beasts, And I delight not in the blood of bullocks, Or of lambs, Or of he-goats. When ye come to appear before me, Who hath requir'd this at your hand, To tread my courts ? x 162 Bring no more vain oblations, Incense is an abomination unto me ; The new-moons and sabbaths, The calling of assemblies I cannot away with ; It is iniquity, Even the solemn meeting. Your new-moons, And your appointed feasts, My soul hateth -, They are a trouble unto me, I am weary to bear them. And when you spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you ; Yea, when you make many prayers, I will not hear : Your hands are full of blood. Wash ye, make ye clean, Put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes, Cease to do evil ; Learn to do well ; Seek judgment ; Relieve the oppress'd, Plead for the widow. 163 Come now, let us reason together, saith the Lord ; Though your sins be as scarlet, They shall be white as snow ; Though they be red like crimson, They shall be as wool. If ye be willing and obedient, Ye shall eat the good of the land. But if ye refuse and rebel, Ye shall be devour'd with the sword ; For the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it, 4. Matthew, Chap, v. And seeing the multitudes, He went up into a mountain ; And when he was set, His disciples came unto him ; And he open'd his mouth, And taught them, Saying j Blessed are the poor in spirit, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, For they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, For they shall inherit the earth. 164 Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righ- teousness, For they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, For they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, For they shall see God. Blessed are the peace-makers, For they shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteous- ness' sake, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, And persecute you, And shall say all manner of evil against you, Falsely, for my sake. Rejoice and be exceeding glad, For great is your reward in heaven ; For so persecuted they the prophets who were be- fore you. Ye are the salt of the earth ; But if the salt have lost his savour, Wherewith shall it be salted ? It is thence good for nothing, But to be cast out, And trodden under feet of men. 165 Ye are the light of the world : A city that is set on a hill Cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, And put it under a bushel ; But on a candlestick, And it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, That they may see your good works, And glorify your Father who is in heaven. THE TEN COMMANDMENTS. 1. Thou shalt have no other gods before. me. 2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, Or any likeness of any thing, That is in heaven above, Or that is in the earth beneath, Or that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, Nor serve them ; For I the Lord thy God, Am a jealous God, 166 Visitingthe iniquities of the fathers upon thechildren, Unto the third and fourth generation Of them that hate me ; And shewing mercy Unto thousands of them that love me, And keep my commandments. 3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain ; For the Lord will not hold him guiltless, That taketh his name in vain. 4. Remember the Sabbath day, To keep it holy, Six days shalt thou labour, And do all thy work. But the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God; In it thou shalt not do any work, Thou, nor thy son, Nor thy daughter, Thy man-servant, Thy maid-servant, Nor thy cattle, Nor thy stranger that is within thy gates. 167 For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, The sea, And all that in them is, And rested the seventh-day : Wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbathday, And hallowed it. Honour thy father and thy mother ; That thy days may be long upon the land, Which the Lord thy God giveth thee. 6. Thou shalt not kill. 7. Thou shalt not commit adultery. 8. Thou shalt not steal. 9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neigh- bour. 10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, 168 Nor his man-servant, Nor his maid-servant, Nor his ox, Nor his ass, Nor any thing r that is thy neighbour's. THE LORDS PRAYER. r Our | Father | r who | art in | heaven, | Hallowed | be thy | name ; | r Thy | kingdom | come ; r Thy | will be J done in | earth ^ as | it is in | heaven. Give us this | day r our [ daily | bread ; [ r And for | give us our | debts, | r As | we for | give our | debtors. | r And | lead us | not in | to temp | tation, | But de | liver us from | evil : | r For | thine is the | kingdom, | r And the | power, | r and the | glory, | r For | ever. | A r | men. | 7. THE FIRST PSALM. Blest man ! whose steady soul, to vice No power can draw, no charms entice ^ 169 Who shuns the paths, where, on each hand, Deluding pleasures tempting stand ; And hates bold sinners, who blaspheme The great Jehovah's awful name. God's righteous law, and holy word To him the sweetest joys aftbrd ; These still his sacred thirst allay, And feed his ravish'd soul by day j Revolving these, with new delight, He charms the silent hours by night. As trees that in rich meadows grow, O'er neighbouring streams their branches throw, For ever green ; and all the year, Loaden with smiling fruit appear : So this man flourishes, nor casts His fruit, nor fears untimely blasts ; While sinners, and their vain designs, Are tost like chaff, the sport of winds. When God, as righteous judge, shall come, To pass on man the final doom, They shall not stand before his face, Nor find among the just a place : The just, immortal joys attend, In which the ways of virtue end, While the smooth paths that sinners tread, To certain death and ruin lead. Y 170 THE HUNDRED PSALM, All r I people r I that on | earth do I dwell, r A I A .% I A /. J A .\ I A Sing to the | Lord r with I cheerful I voice. r A .\ A .\ A .% A | serve with 1 mirth, r his I praise r I forth r | tell, P 1 I A /. I A .\ J A I A | A J Come r I r ye be I fore him I r and re I joice. A .\ A .\ .\ - A Know r | r that the I Lord r is | God in I deed ; - A .\ "I A .\| A/. I A r With | out our I aid r he I did us | make : - ,\ A /. A /.A .% I A are his 1 flock, r he | doth us | feed, r | .-. J A ,\|A .\|A I r And I for his | sheep r he I doth us I take.- .\ A .-. A .\ A /. I A O r j enter I then his I gates with i praise, r A J A/. I A .\| A .\ | A r Ap I proach with I joy his I courts un | to, r .% I A /. I A .\ J A /. J A Praise, r 1 laud, r and I bless his I name 1 " I always, A J A .\ I A .-.| A I A/. r For r I it is | seemly I so to I do. I .'. | A.*. I A .'.I A.'.l A I 171 l" For I why ? r the I Lord our I God, is I good, r .*. | A .*. I A .*. | A /. A r His I mercy | is r for I ever I sure ; r I /.| A/. I A .\|A.\| A I r His I truth r at I all times | firmly I stood, r /. I A /. I A .\ I A .\ I A r And I shall from I age to I age en I dure. r A .\ A .\ A .\ A 9. HYMN. What holy, what sincere delight, Religion does afford ! How sweet to a refined taste, Thy rich provision, Lord ! Honours let others chace, and feed Their starving souls with air ; Or guilty and polluted joy, With short delusion share. Let mine be more substantial bliss ! Be mine more solid food ! My heart to nobler heights aspires. And seeks the Eternal God. 172 Let sons of earth, the dust of earth, Its glittering dust admire : Poor sordid minds pursue the gains, That suit a low desire. For me, my God let me possess ; This treasure shall suffice ; My glory this, my joy, my all ! All else I can despise. When on her high original My heaven-born soul reflects, With a becoming pride, the world Disdainful she rejects. Nor stoops to court these humble goods, So much beneath her state ; Such condescension is too low, And she herself too great. 10. A PARAPHRASE. O r | God of I Bethel ! r by | whose r I hand r A I A .-. J A .-. I A I A Thy r | people I still are I fed ; r A A .-. A .-. A 173 Who r | through this I weary | pilgrimage A I A .-.I A.-. I A : .-. Hast r | all our | fathers 1 led : r , A I A .-. I A .-. I A | r Our 1 vows, our | prayers, r we 1 now pre | sent r A .-. A .< I A .-. I A r Be 1 fore thy 1 throne of 1 grace ; r I .-. J A .'. J A .'. | A I God r I r of our I fathers ! I be the 1 God r A I - .-. I A .-. I A .-. I A r Of I their sue I ceeding 1 race, r A .-. A.-. A Through r | each per I plexing I path of I life, r 1 A I A .-. I A.-. I A v| A I Our r | wandering | footsteps I guide; t 1 A J A .-. I A .-. I A I Give us I each r I day our | daily | bread, r A .-. A A.-. I A.-. I A r And 1 raiment 1 fit pro I vide. r I .-. I A .-. I A .-. I A I O r 1 spread thy ) covering I wings a j round, r A I A .-. I A--*. I A .*. I A Till r I all our | wanderings 1 cease, r A J A .-. j A .'. I A r And | at our I Father's | lov'd a | bode, r A.. A.-. r Our | souls ar | rive in I peace. A .-. J A .-. I A 174 Such r blessings I from thy I gracious I hand, A A.-. | A ,.J A ~| A r Our I humble I prayers im I plore ; I A .-. | A- .% J A r And I thou shalt I be our | chosen I God, > I A ... I A ... I A ... J r And | portion | ever I more. - A.-. A.-. A 11, A PARAPHRASE. Naked as from the earth we came, And enter'd life at first; Naked we to the earth return, And mix with kindred dust. Whate'er we fondly call our own, Belongs to heaven's great Lord ; The blessings lent us for a day Are soon to be restor'd. 'Tis God that lifts our comforts high, Or sinks them in the grave : He gives, and when he takes away, He takes but what he gave. 175 Then, ever blessed be his name ! His goodness swell'd our store ; His justice but resum'd its own ; 'Tis ours still to adore. 12. A PARAPHRASE. How still and peaceful is the grave ? Where, life's vain tumults past, The appointed house, by Heaven's decree,, Receives us all at last. The wicked there from troubling cease j There passions rage no more ; And there the weary pilgrim rests From all the toils he bore. There rest the prisoners, now releas'd From slavery's sad abode ; No more they hear the oppressor's voice, Or dread the tyrant's rod. There servants, masters, small and great, Partake the same repose ; 176 And there, in peace, the ashes mix Of those who once were foes. All levell'd by the hand of death, Lie sleeping in the tomb ; Till God in judgment calls them forth, To meet their final doom. 13. A PARAPHRASE. Who can resist the Almighty arm That made the starry sky ? Or who elude the certain glance Of God's all-seeing eye ? From him no covering veils our crimes ; Hell opens to his sight j And all destruction's secret snares, Lie full disclos'd in sight. Firm on the boundless void of space He pois'd the steady pole ; And in the circle of his clouds, Bade secret waters roll. 177 While Nature's universal frame Its Maker's power reveals ; His throne, remote from mortal eyes, An awful cloud conceals. From where the rising day ascends, To where it sets in night, He compasses the floods with bounds, And checks their threatening might. The pillars that support the sky Tremble at his rebuke ; Through all its caverns quakes the earth, As though its centre shook. He brings the waters from their beds, Although no tempest blows, And smites the kingdom of the proud, Without the hand of foes. With bright inhabitants above He fills the heavenly land ; And all the crooked serpent's breed, Dismay'd before him stand. 178 Few of his works can we survey ; These few our skill transcend : But the full thunder of his power What heart can comprehend I 18. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. Vi tal I spark of I heavenly 1 flame ! A/. I A /. I A -..! A Quit, r I O r | quit this I mortal I frame ! A I A | A .% I A .\ I A Trembling, I hoping,. I lingering, 1 flying ; A ,\ I A.'. I A--/. | A Oh the 1 pain, the I bliss of I dy ing ! A /. I A /. I A .\ I A .\ Cease, r I fond r I nature ! I cease thy | strife, r A I A | A /. | A .'. I A r And | let me I languish I in to I life. A .\ A" .\ A/. A Hark ! r I r they I whisper : I angels I say, A /. A .'. A Sis ter A.'. spi nt, | come a I way. A.\ A .\ A What is I this ab I sorbs me I quite, A .\ I A /. I A .*. I A Steals my I senses, I shuts my I sight, A .\ A A .\ A 179 Drowns my | spi rit, I draws my | breath ? A .-. I A .-. I A .'. I A Tell me, my 1 soul ! r I r can I this be I death ? A .-.A - A.-. A r The I world re I cedes ; I r it disap [ pears ! A .-. | A Heaven I opens 1 r on my I eyes ! j r my I ears'" A .-. A .-. .-.A .-. A r With | sounds se I raphic 1 ring: .-. | A I A .-. I A Lend, I lend your I wings ! I I mount ! I I fly ! A A .-. A .\ A w \ I A O r I grave ! I where is thy A A A .-. victory ? A-.-. O r 1 death r 1 where is thy | sting ? A A I A . 180 CHAPTER XXI. PROMISCUOUS TIECES IN VERSE AND PROSE, This chapter contains many of the finest passages in the English language, and affords ample scope for exemplifying the scale of reading, which may be disposed thus ; 1. Intelligible, 2- Correct, 3. Im- pressive, 4. Rhetorical, 5. Dramatic, 6. Epic. Many of the pieces are peculiarly adapted as ex- ercises for the modulation and management of the voice. As the voice is the organ of eloquence, and has the entire dominion over one sense, all that language and tones can effect to influence the understand- ing, and win the affection, must depend on the power of the voice addressed to the ear. To under- stand and to be able to manage the voice, there- fore, must be of the highest importance to the pub- lic speaker. The modulation of the voice consists in the pro- per management of its tones, so as to produce grateful melodies to the ear. Upon the modulation 181 of the voice, depends that variety which is so pleas- ing, and so necessary to relieve and refresh the organs of the speaker, and the ears of the audience in a long oration. To regulate the various states of the voice, so as to produce that striking and beautiful variety, which always prevails in good reading and speaking, is one of the most important qualities of oratory, and, according to Quintilian, alone constitutes eloquent delivery. It may not be improper here, to state what is frequently confounded, the difference between loud and soft, and high and low tones. They are totally different. Piano and forte have no relation to pitch or key, but to force or want of force ; and when ap- plied to the voice, they relate to the body or volume which the speaker or singer gives out. We can, therefore, be very soft in a high note, and very loud in a low one. When w 7 e take a high pitch and give little force, we speak high and soft ; when we take a high pitch and give great force, we speak high and loud ; when we take a low pitch and give little force, we speak low and soft ; and when we give to the same pitch great force, we speak low and loud. Several pieces in this chapter being peculiarly adapted for Recitation, they are selected for the express purpose of exercising the student of oratory in that important part of public speaking. Gesture, which is too much neglected, though the language of nature* is a just and elegant adaptation of even 182 part of the body, to the nature and import of the subject we are pronouncing ; it has always been considered as one of the most essential parts of oratory : Cicero says, its power is much greater than that of words. The different modes of public speaking, to each of which a different style of gesture is necessary, may be reduced to these three, admitting different sub-divisions according to the accuracy of discrimi- nation ; 1 . Colloquial 2. Rhetorical 3. Epic. Colloquial Gesture, when concerned in the higher scenes of polite life, requires principally simplicity and grace. Precision will follow of course. It may occasionally demand something of energy and va- riety, but never magnificence or boldness. Collo- quial gesture, which is at the opposite extreme from Epic, differs from it essentially in the manner of the arm. Instead of unfolding the whole of the orato- rical weapon as in tragedy* in description, and sometimes in the more vehement passages of ora- tory, the upper arm in colloquial gesture is barely detached from the side ; and the elbow instead of the shoulder becomes the principal centre of mo- tion ; hence the action must be short and less flow- ing in every respect This kind of gesture is ge- nerally used by persons who deliver their orations or lectures in a sitting posture; the arm is seldom extended altogether, and the action is made sharp and short by the hand, the fingers, and the wrist, with the assistance of the fore-arm alone. 183 Rhetorical Gesture, requires principally energy, variety, simplicity, and precision. Grace is desir- able. Magnificence is rarely wanting, but may sometimes have place. Appropriate or significant gestures are seldom to be used ; yet propriety in a limited sense, should be observed. Boldness of gesture is inadmissable. Among the different classes of gestures, * those which suit best the ob- jects of oratory, are the commencing, the discrimi- nating, the suspending, and the emphatical ; and the qualities suited to those gestures, are principally energy, variety, simplicity, precision, and grace. The Epic, or Tragic stile of delivery, requires every natural and acquired power on the part of the speaker ; and in its perfection, is implied every ex- cellence of the highest class. The following dif- ferent qualities, which constitute the perfection of gesture, are all necessary in this species of public speaking, viz. Magnificence, Boldness, Energy, Variety, Simplicity, Grace, Propriety, Precision. The compositions which require Epic gestures in the delivery, are tragedy, epic poetry, lyric odes, and sublime description. These very general hints on gesture, are illustrat- ed and exemplified by the Author to his students, in a manner too minute to be explained here : and the various gestures proper for the Pulpit, the * See Orator, Vol. II. Outlines of Gesture. 184 Bar, and the Senate, and also for the different parts of an Oration or Discourse, are particularly attended to, in the recitation of pieces selected as exercises for the student, according to the profes- sion he may have in view, in each of these kinds of Public speaking. SELECT PIECES IN VERSE. 1. FROM THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS. Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture the love of the turtle Now melt into sorrow now sadden to crime ? Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine, 185 Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume, Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul * in her bloom j Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute ; Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple in Ocean is deepest in dye ; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine 'Tis the clime of the East 'tis the land of the Sun Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? Oh ! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell, Are the* hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. Byron. 2. LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING A SCENE IN ARGYLESHIRE. At the silence of midnight's contemplative hour, I have mus'd in a mournful mood, On the wind-shaken weeds that embosom the bower Where the home of my forefathers stood. All ruin'd and wild is their roofless abode, And lonely the dark raven's sheltering tree ; * The Rose. 2a 186 And traveled by few is the grass^cover'd road* Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode. To his hills that encircle the sea. Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk, By the dial-stone aged and green, One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, To mark where a garden had been. Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race, All wild in the silence of Nature, it drew, From each wandering sun-beam, a lonely embrace; For the night- weed and thorn overshadow'd the place, Where the flower of my forefathers grew. Sweet bud of the wilderness ! emblem of all That remains in this desolate heart ! The fabric of bliss to its centre may fall ; But patience shall never depart ! Tho' the wilds of enchantment, all vernal and bright, In the days of delusion by fancy combin'd, With the vanishing phantoms of love and delight, Abandon my soul like a dream of the night, And leave but a desert behind. Behush'd, my dark spirit! for wisdom condemns When the faint and the feeble deplore ; Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems A thousand wild waves on the shore ! 187 Through the perils of chance, and the scowl of dis- dain, May thy front be unalter'd, thy courage elate ! Yea ! even the name I have worshipp'd in vain, Shall awake not the sigh of remembrance again ; To bear is to conquer our fate. Campbell 3. THE ACCOUNT OF AZIM's ENTRY TO THE PALACE OF MOKAMA. Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls .Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound From many a jasper fount is heard around, Young Azim roams bewilder'd, nor can guess What means this maze of light and loneliness. Here, the way leads, o'er tesselated floors Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors, Where, rang'd in cassolets and silver urns, \ Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ; And spicy rods, such as illume at night The bowers of Tibet, send forth odorous light, Like Peris' wands when pointing out the road For some pure Spirit to its bless'd abode ! And here, at once, the glittering saloon Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon - 7 Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 188 High as the enamelFd cupola, which towers All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers ; And the mosaic floor beneath shines through The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew, Like the wet, glistering shells, of every dye, That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. Here, too, he traces the kind visitings Of woman's love in those fair, living things Of land and wave, whose fate in bondage thrown For their weak loveliness is like her own ! On one side, gleaming with a sudden grace Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase In which it undulates, small fishes shine, Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; While, on the other, lattic'd lightly in With odoriferous woods of Comorin, Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ; Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between The crimson blossoms of the coral tree, In the warm isles of India's sunny sea : Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, and the thrush Of Hindostan, whose holy warblings gush, At evening, from the tall pagoda's top ; Those golden birds, that in the spice-time, drop About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer flood ; And those that under Araby's soft sun Build their high nests of budding cinnamon. Moore* Lalla Rookh. 189 4. ZELICA AND AZIM's DEATH. " But live, my Azim ; Oh ! to call thee mine Thus once again ! my Azim dream divine ! Live if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, Oh live to pray for her to bend the knee Morning and night before that Deity, To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, As thine are, Azim, never breath'd in vain, And pray that He may pardon her, may take Compassion on her soul, for thy dear sake, And, nought remembering but her love to thee, Make her all thine, all His, eternally ! Go to those happy fields, where first we twin'd Our youthful hearts together, every wind That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known flowers, Will bring the sweetness of these innocent hours Back to thy soul, that thou mayest feel again For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies To heaven, upon the morning's sunshine, rise With all love's earliest ardour, to the skies !" Time fleeted years on years had pass'd away, And few of those who, on that mournful day, Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see The maiden's death, and the youth's agony, } 190 Were living still when, by the rustic grave Beside the swift Amoo's transparent wave, An aged man, w r ho had grown aged there By that lone grave, morning and night in prayer, For the last time knelt down and, tho' the shade Of death hung darkening over him, there play'd A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek, That brighten'd even Death like the last streak Of intense glory on the horizon's brim, When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and dim, His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept ; She for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept So many years, had come to him, all dress'd Jn angel smiles, and told him she was blest ! For this the old man breath'd his thanks, and died. And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide, He and his Zelica sleep side by side. Moore's Lalla Rookh. HOPE, THE FRIEND OF THE BRAVE. Friend of the Brave ! in peril's darkest hour, Intrepid Virtue looks to thee for power ; To thee the heart its trembling homage yields, On stormy floods, and carnage-cover'd fields, When front to front the banner'd hosts combine, Halt ere they close, and form the dreadful line. When all is still on Death's devoted sail, The march-worn soldier mingles for the toil - y } 191 As rings his glittering tube, he lifts on high The dauntless brow, and spirit-speaking eye Hails in his heart the triumphs yet to come, And hears the stormy music in the drum ! And such thy strength-inspiring aid, that bore The hardy Byron to his native shore In horrid climes, where Chiloe's tempests sweep Tumultuous murmurs o'er the troubled deep, 'Twas his to mourn Misfortune's rudest shock, Scourg'd by the winds and cradled on the rock, To wake each joyless morn, and search again The famish'd haunts of solitary men ; Whose race, unyielding as their native storm, Knows not a trace of Nature but the form : Yet, at thy call, the hardy tar pursued, Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdu'd, Pierc'd the deep woods, and, hailing from afar, The moon's pale planet, and the northern star ; Paused at each dreary cry, unheard before, Hyaenas in the wild, and mermaids on the shore ; Till, led by thee, o'er many a cliff sublime, He found a warmer world, a milder clime, A home to rest, a shelter to defend, Peace and repose, a Briton, and a friend. Campbell 6. ODE TO HARMONY. Nymph, we woo thee from the steeps That bend o'er Tyber's classic wave, 192 Where Rome's dejected genius weeps In anguish o'er her Brutus' grave. We woo thee from the vine-wove bowers, That breathe and bloom o'er Arno's vale, Where, sunk at eve, on closing flowers, Thou lists the Tuscan shepherd's tale :