Of these the false Achitophel was first;
A name to all succeeding ages curst:
For close designs and crooked counsels fit;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;
Restless, unfix'd in principles and place;
In pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of disgrace:
A fiery soul which, working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
Dryden, Absalom and Achitophel, Part I.
All human things are subject to decay,
And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey.
This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young
Was call'd to empire and had govern'd long;
In prose and verse was own'd, without dispute,
Through all the realms of Nonsense absolute.
This aged prince, now flourishing in peace
And blest with issue of a large increase,
Worn out with business, did at length debate
To settle the succession of the State.
Dryden, MacFlecknoe.
It is interesting, from a metrical point of view, to compare
Chaucer's couplets with Dryden's where he is
translating Chaucer, e. g., in the Knight's Tale and
Palamon and Arcite.
Between 1664 and 1678 it became the fashion, partly
as a reaction against the liberties of the late Elizabethan
blank verse, and partly under French influence,
to write drama in heroic couplets. But the undertaking
soon proved abortive.
Others for Language all their care express,
And value books, as women men, for dress;
Their praise is still,—the style is excellent;
The sense, they humbly take upon content.
Words are like leaves; and where they most abound,
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found:
False eloquence, like the prismatic glass,
Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place;
The face of nature we no more survey,
All glares alike, without distinction gay:
But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;
It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
Pope, Essay on Criticism.
Meantime the Grecians in a ring beheld
The coursers bounding o'er the dusty field.
The first who marked them was the Cretan king;
High on a rising ground, above the ring,
The monarch sat: from whence with sure survey
He well observ'd the chief who led the way,
And heard from far his animating cries,
And saw the foremost steed with sharpen'd eyes.
Pope, Iliad, XXIII.
Pope's couplets represent the acme of polish and
metrical dexterity—a perfect instrument for wit and
satire.[51] Thus in the mock-heroic Rape of the Lock
these well-modeled couplets prove their mettle, but in
the translation of Homer their fatal limitations are
easily apparent.
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,
How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!
How often have I paus'd on every charm,
The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topt the neighboring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made....
Ill fares the land to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made:
But a bold peasantry, a country's pride,
When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Goldsmith, The Deserted Village.
The departure from the petrified couplet was gradual
and natural, and influenced greatly by the simpler
language and content of the verses. These two specimens
show Goldsmith writing in two manners, only a
few lines apart. Still freer are Cowper's couplets in
his On the Receipt of My Mother's Picture. Byron in
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (1809) and
Crabbe in his earlier work, still practised the eighteenth-century
couplet (in the Tales of the Hall, 1819,
Crabbe varied it to a considerable degree), but the new
spirit of the Romantic Movement leavened all the
metrical forms, as it did the themes, of poetry. Compare
the following examples.
One hope within two wills, one will beneath
Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,
One heaven, one hell, one immortality,
And one annihilation.
Woe is me!
The winged words on which my soul would pierce
Into the height of Love's rare universe
Are chains of lead around its flight of fire—
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!
Shelley, Epipsychidion.
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,
Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds
Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds,
Is this; an uninhabited sea-side,
Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried,
Abandons....
Shelley, Julian and Maddalo.
'Twas far too strange and wonderful for sadness;
Sharpening, by degrees, his appetite
To dive into the deepest. Dark, nor light,
The region; nor bright, nor sombre wholly,
But mingled up; a gleaming melancholy;
A dusky empire and its diadems;
One faint eternal eventide of gems.
Aye, millions sparkled on a vein of gold,
Along whose track the prince quick footsteps told,
With all its lines abrupt and angular.
Keats, Endymion, II.
Ay, happiness
Awaited me; the way life should be used
Was to acquire, and deeds like you conduced
To teach it by a self-revealment, deemed
Life's very use, so long! Whatever seemed
Progress to that, was pleasure; aught that stayed
My reaching it—no pleasure. I have laid
The ladder down; I climb not; still, aloft
The platform stretches! Blisses strong and soft,
I dared not entertain, elude me; yet
Never of what they promised could I get
A glimpse till now!
Browning, Sordello, III.
She thanked men,—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—(which I have not)—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say ...
Browning, My Last Duchess.
It hath been seen and yet it shall be seen
That out of tender mouths God's praise hath been
Made perfect, and with wood and simple string
He hath played music sweet as shawm-playing
To please himself with softness of all sound;
And no small thing but hath been sometime found
Full sweet of use, and no such humbleness
But God hath bruised withal the sentences
And evidence of wise men witnessing;
No leaf that is so soft a hidden thing
It never shall get sight of the great sun;
The strength of ten has been the strength of one,
And lowliness has waxed imperious.
Swinburne, St. Dorothy.
Three-Line Stanza
Stanzas of three lines riming aaa (called tercets or
triplets) are not very common. Familiar, however, is
Herrick's Upon Julia's Clothes:
Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
That liquifaction of her clothes!
Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see
That brave vibration each way free;
O how that glittering taketh me!
Other examples are: Threnos (in The Phœnix and the
Turtle), Herbert's Trinity Sunday, Quarles' Shortness
of Life, Browning's A Toccata of Galuppi's, Tennyson's
The Two Voices, Swinburne's After a Reading,
and Clear the Way; and (with a simple refrain)
Cowper's To Mary:
The twentieth year is well-nigh past,
Since first our sky was overcast;
Ah, would that this might be the last!
My Mary!
Crashaw's Wishes to his Supposed Mistress rimes
a2a3a4.
Tennyson's 'O Swallow, Swallow' in The Princess is
in unrimed triplets.
On the terza rima see below, page 164.
Four-Line Stanza: Quatrain
The most important quatrains are the ballad stanza,
riming a4b3c4b3 or a4b3a4b3 (the Common Measure of the
hymnals), with the related Long Measure riming abab4
or abcb4; the In Memoriam stanza abba4; and the elegiac
quatrain abab5. These are often combined into
8-and 12-line stanzas, as abab bcbc5 (called the Monk's
Tale stanza), abab cdcd, etc., sometimes with alternating
long and short lines. And these, as well as longer
stanzas, are frequently varied by the use of repetitions
and refrains.[52]
The ballad stanza, with its frequent variations of
internal rime and additional verses is excellently illustrated
by Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. Similar is
Tennyson's Sir Galahad, a 12-line stanza of three
quatrains, a4b3a4b3cdc4d3efgf4. Another common variation
is that of Hood's The Dream of Eugene Aram,
Wilde's Ballad of Reading Gaol, and Rossetti's Blessed
Damozel, a4b3c4b3d4b3. The musical roughness of the
old ballads should be contrasted with the regularized
modern imitations, such as Longfellow's Wreck of the
Hesperus. Better imitations are Rossetti's Stratton
Water and The King's Tragedy, Robert Buchanan's
Judas Iscariot, and W.B. Yeats's Father Gilligan.
Sometimes a shorter quatrain is printed as a long
couplet and combined into larger stanzas, as in Mr.
Alfred Noyes's The Highwayman (which has an additional
variation in the inserted fourth and fifth lines):
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
The variations in Tennyson's The Revenge should be
carefully studied.
The ballad stanza is closely similar to the abab4 and
abcb4 quatrains, and (as in the Sir Galahad mentioned
just above) the two are sometimes united. All three
were much used by Wordsworth and many minor
poets for lyrics as well as narratives; the result is often
an undignified tinkle that takes the popular ear and
"makes the judicious grieve." The stanzaic unit is so
easily carried in one's mind and so rapidly repeats itself,
that there is little opportunity for the necessary
pleasing surprises. But that the measure is capable of a
simple expressive music is evident from such examples
as Wordsworth's 'Lucy' poems. These stanzas, both
alone and doubled (as in To Mary in Heaven), were
favorites with Burns.
A striking musical effect was obtained by Swinburne
in Dolores by shortening the last line of a double quatrain:
Cold eyelids that hide like a jewel
Hard eyes that grow soft for an hour;
The heavy white limbs, and the cruel
Red mouth like a venomous flower;
When these are gone by with their glories,
What shall rest of thee then, what remain,
O mystic and sombre Dolores,
Our Lady of Pain.
Similar interesting variations are Coleridge's Love,
aba4b3 and Wordsworth's The Solitary Reaper.
The In Memoriam stanza (abba4) is named after
Tennyson's poem (though that was by no means its
first use), because Tennyson gave it a peculiar melody,
and, partly for this reason and partly from the length
and subject of the poem, almost preëmpted it for elegiac
purposes.[53] Characteristic stanzas metrically are
these:
Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
These leaves that redden to the fall;
And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair.
And all we met was fair and good,
And all was good that Time could bring,
And all the secret of the Spring
Moved in the chambers of the blood.
Now fades the last long streak of snow,
Now burgeons every maze of quick
About the flowering squares, and thick
By ashen roots the violets blow.
One of the peculiarities of the stanza is the increased
emphasis which the rime of the third verse receives
from its proximity to that of the second; and this is
noticeable both when there is a logical pause after the
third verse and when there is none:
'Thou makest thine appeal to me:
I bring to life, I bring to death:
The spirit does but mean the breath:
I know no more.' And he, shall he....
I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
Run-on stanzas are very frequent; especially remarkable
is the periodic movement of the four stanzas of
LXXXVI, leading up to the last line—
A hundred spirits whisper 'Peace.'
"By the rhyme-scheme of the quatrain," says Corson,
"the terminal rhyme-emphasis of the stanza is reduced,
the second and third verses being the most
closely braced by the rhyme. The stanza is thus admirably
adapted to the sweet continuity of flow, free from
abrupt checks, demanded by the spiritualized sorrow
which it bears along. Alternate rhyme would have
wrought an entire change in the tone of the poem. To
be assured of this, one should read, aloud, of course, all
the stanzas whose first and second, or third and fourth,
verses admit of being transposed without affecting the
sense. By such transposition, the rhymes are made alternate,
and the concluding rhymes more emphatic.
There are as many as ninety-one such stanzas....
The poem could not have laid hold of so many hearts as
it has, had the rhymes been alternate, even if the
thought-element had been the same."[54] Examples for
this experiment are:
To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
The last read leaf is rolled away,
The rooks are blown about the skies. XV, 1.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all. XXVII, 4.
Compare the slightly different effect of the same
stanza printed as two lines, in Wilde's The Sphinx:
The river-horses in the slime trumpeted when they saw him come
Odorous with Syrian galbanum and smeared with spikenard and with thyme.
He came along the river bank like some tall galley argent-sailed,
He strode across the waters, mailed in beauty, and the waters sank.
The name 'elegiac stanza' for the abab5 quatrain
comes apparently from its appropriate use by Gray in
the Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard, but it is
not altogether fitting; for it is simply the quatrain
movement of the English sonnet, where no lament is
intended, and it was employed effectively by Dryden
in his Annus Mirabilis, and has been often employed
since, without elegiac feeling. For examples see the
stanza from Gray, page 55, and the sonnets on pages
129 f. An especially interesting modification is that
of Tennyson's Palace of Art, a5b4a5b3.
Five-Line Stanza
Five-line stanzas are formed in various ways, e. g.,
aaaba, aabba, aabab, abbba, ababa, ababb, etc., in lines of
three, four, five, etc., stresses.
Six-Line Stanza
Six-line stanzas are formed by similar combinations;
the most frequent is the quatrain + couplet, called,
from Shakespeare's poem, the Venus and Adonis
stanza, ababcc5 (compare the end of the English sonnet
and the ottava rima).[55] Familiar examples are Wordsworth's
To a Skylark and his fine Laodamia.
Since them art dead, lo! here I prophesy:
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:
It shall be waited on with jealousy,
Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end;
Ne'er settled equally, but high or low;
That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.
Venus and Adonis.
The same rimes with 4-stress verses are also common,[56]
for example, Wordsworth's
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Another important 6-line stanza is the tail-rime or
rime couée, a stanza much used in the Middle English
romances and chosen by Chaucer for his parody, Sir
Thopas. Harry Bailey, mine host of the Canterbury
pilgrims, called it 'doggerel rime.' The simple and
probably normal form is aa4b3cc4b3 or aa4b3aa4b3, which
to save space in the manuscripts was written thus:
| Listeth, lordes, in good entent, | Of mirthe and of solas; |
| And I wol telle verrayment |
| Al of a knyght was fair and gent | His name was sir Thopas. |
| In bataille and in tourneyment, |
Variations are extremely common: the aaa4b2ccc4b2 of
Wordsworth's To the Daisy, aaaa4b2ccc4b3 of Tennyson's
Lady of Shalott, aa3b2ccc3b2 of S. F. Smith's
America, aaa3b2ccc3b2 of Drayton's Agincourt, and the
so-called Burns stanza, in which Burns wrote some
fifty poems, aaa4b2a4b2, e. g., To a Mouse and Address
to the Deil.
Seven-Line Stanza
The most important 7-line stanza is the rime royale
or Chaucer (or Troilus) stanza, ababbcc5. In the
Parlement of Foules, the Man of Law's Tale, and
Troilus and Criseyde, Chaucer made it a splendid
vehicle both for narrative and for reflective analysis,
for humor, satire, description, and all the gamut of
emotions; in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries
James I, Lydgate and Hoccleve, Henryson and Dunbar,
and Skelton, Hawes and Barclay employed it,
largely in imitation of Chaucer; Wyatt used it in his
Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus; and Shakespeare in The
Rape of Lucrece. Since then it has not proved attractive
to the poets—though no reason for its disuse is
obvious—except Wordsworth (in his translations of
Chaucer) and Morris, Chaucer's latest disciple.
And by the hond ful oft he wolde take
This Pandarus, and into gardyn lede,
And swich a feste, and swiche a proces make
Hym of Criseyde, and of hire wommanhede,
And of hire beaute, that, withouten drede,
It was an heven his wordes for to here,
And thanne he wolde synge in this manere.
Troilus and Criseyde, Bk. III.
So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care,
Holds disputation with each thing she views,
And to herself all sorrow doth compare;
No object but her passion's strength renews;
And as one shifts, another straight ensues:
Sometime her grief is dumb and hath no words;
Sometime 'tis mad and too much talk affords.
Rape of Lucrece.
Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,
Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?
Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme
Beats with light wing against the ivory gate,
Telling a tale not too importunate
To those who in the sleepy region stay,
Lulled by the singer of an empty day.
Morris, Earthly Paradise.
In comparison with the formality of Shakespeare's and
the evenness of Morris's, the ease and smoothness of
Chaucer's stanza are striking. Wyatt's stanzas are
musical in their way.
Eight-Line Stanza
Eight-line stanzas are variously formed—chiefly
by the doubling of quatrains, sometimes with different
rimes, as ababcdcd, sometimes preserving one or another
or both rimes, as ababbcbc, abcbdbeb, ababacac,
abababab, etc. Other varieties are abcdabcd (Rossetti)
and aaabcccb (tail-rime), and aabbccdd.
One of the commonest 8-line stanzas is that imported
from Italy and called ottava rima, abababcc. It
has been charged with tediousness, and tedious it may
become if not sedulously varied. It was introduced,
along with so much else from Italy, by Wyatt, and was
then employed for different purposes by Sidney, Spenser,
Daniel, and others.[57] At the close of the eighteenth
century it enjoyed a rebirth. "It had already been
used by Harrington, Drayton, Fairfax (in his translation
of Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered), and ... in
later times by Gay; and it had even been used by
Frere's contemporary, William Tennant; but to Frere
belongs the honour of giving it the special characteristics
which Byron afterwards popularized in Beppo
and Don Juan.... Byron, taking up the stanza with
equal skill and greater genius, filled it with the vigour
of his personality, and made it a measure of his own,
which it has ever since been hazardous for inferior
poets to attempt."[58] Byron had first adopted the
stanza in his translation of Pulci's Morgante Maggiore,
which is itself in ottava rime. Beppo was written
in 1817, and Don Juan begun in the next year. In
1819 the first four cantos of Don Juan were published;
in 1820 Keats published his Isabella, and Shelley
wrote his Witch of Atlas, both in the same metre.
Those giant mountains inwardly were moved,
But never made an outward change of place;
Not so the mountain-giants—(as behoved
A more alert and locomotive race),
Hearing a clatter which they disapproved,
They ran straight forward to besiege the place
With a discordant universal yell,
Like house-dogs howling at a dinner-bell.
J. H. Frere, The Monks and the Giants.
To the kind of reader of our sober clime
This way of writing will appear exotic;
Pulci was sire of the half-serious rhyme,
Who sang when chivalry was more Quixotic,
And revell'd in the fancies of the time,
True knights, chaste dames, huge giants, kings despotic,
But all these, save the last, being obsolete,
I chose a modern subject as more meet.
Byron, Don Juan, IV, vi.
A lovely Lady garmented in light
From her own beauty: deep her eyes as are
Two openings of unfathomable night
Seen through a temple's cloven roof; her hair
Dark; the dim brain whirls dizzy with delight,
Picturing her form. Her soft smiles shone afar;
And her low voice was heard like love, and drew
All living things towards this wonder new.
Shelley, The Witch of Atlas.
Nine-Line Stanza
By far the most important of 9-line stanzas, and
one of the finest of all stanzas in English poetry, is the
ababbcbc5c6 invented by Spenser—a double quatrain of
5-stress lines plus an alexandrine. This particular
octave had been used by Chaucer in the Canterbury
Tales, and is sometimes referred to as the Monk's Tale
stanza: the stroke of metrical genius lay in adding
the 'supplementary harmony' of the alexandrine, by
which the whole stanza climbs to a majestic close or
ebbs in a delightful decrescendo as the poet wills.[59] The
long swing of nine verses on three rimes, with the combined
effect of the interwoven rimes (abab and bcbc)
united by the couplet in the middle, culminating in the
unequal couplet at the close, the extraordinary opportunity
of balancing and contrasting the rime sounds,
and of almost infinitely varying the pauses—all these
render the Spenserian stanza incomparable for nearly
every sort of poetic expression.
After the Faerie Queene, the chief poems in this
metre are: Shenstone's The Schoolmistress (1742),
Thomson's The Castle of Indolence (1748), Burns's
The Cotter's Saturday Night (1786), Scott's Don
Roderick (1811), Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
(1818 et seq.), Shelley's Laon and Cythna (The Revolt
of Islam) (1817, 1818), and Adonais (1821), Keats's
Eve of St. Agnes (1820), and the opening of Tennyson's
Lotos Eaters (1833).
From the following examples only a limited conception
can be gained of the stanza's varied capabilities.
Long passages should be read together—and read, for
this purpose, with more attention to the sound than
to the meaning—in order that the peculiarities of
handling of the different poets may be felt.
A gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,
The cruell marks of many a bloody fielde;
Yet armes till that time did he never wield.
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
Faerie Queen, I, i, 1.
With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so lowe,
She thancked them in her disdainefull wise;
Ne other grace vouchsafed them to showe
Of Princesse worthy; scarse them bad arise.
Her Lordes and Ladies all this while devise
Themselves to setten forth to straungers sight:
Some frounce their curled heare in courtly guise;
Some prancke their ruffes; and others trimly dight
Their gay attyre; each others greater pride does spight.
Ibid., I, iv, 14.
The whiles some one did chaunt this lovely lay:
Ah! see, whoso fayre thing doest faine to see,
In springing flowre the image of thy day.
Ah! see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee
Doth first peepe foorth with bashfull modestee,
That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her may.
Lo! see soone after how more bold and free
Her bared bosome she doth broad display;
Lo! see soone after how she fades and falls away.
Faerie Queen, II, xii, 74.
Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which they faine
That great Alcides whilome overthrew,
After that he had labourd long in vaine
To crop his thousand heads, the which still new
Forth budded, and in greater number grew.
Such was the fury of this hellish Beast,
Whitest Calidore him under him downe threw;
Who nathemore his heavy load releast,
But aye, the more he rag'd, the more his powre increast.
Ibid., VI, xii, 32.
O ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure
His little sister did his peril see:
All playful as she sate, she grows demure;
She finds full soon her wonted spirits free,
She meditates a prayer to set him free:
Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny
(If gentle pardons could with dames agree)
To her sad grief that swells in either eye
And wrings her so that all for pity she could die.
Shenstone, The Schoolmistress.
And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams,
Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace;
O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams,
That played, in waving lights, from place to place,
And shed a roseate smile on nature's face.
Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array,
So fleece with clouds the pure ethereal space;
Ne could it e'er such melting forms display,
As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay.
James Thomson, The Castle of Indolence, I, xliv.
The chearfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride:
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And 'Let us worship God!' he says, with solemn air.
Burns, Cotter's Saturday Night.
Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between
Heights which appear as lovers who have parted
In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted;
Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted,
Love was the very root of the fond rage
Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed:
Itself expired, but leaving them an age
Of years all winters,—war within themselves to wage.
Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, III, xciv.
(Childe Harold begins with many deliberate imitations
of Spenser's language and style, but soon neglects
them. Here perhaps more than in any other metre the
tone and subject of the poem determine the movement
of the stanza. The above is but one example of Byron's
great variety.)
The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, earth's shadows fly;
Life, like a dome of many-colored glass,
Stains the white radiance of eternity,
Until Death tramples it to fragments.—Die,
If thou wouldst be with them that thou dost seek!
Follow where all is fled!—Rome's azure sky,
Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak
The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.
Shelley, Adonais, lii.
The ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;
And so it chanced, for many a door was wide,
From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,
The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide:
The level chambers, ready with their pride,
Were flowing to receive a thousand guests:
The carvéd angels, ever eager-eyed,
Stared, where upon their head the cornice rests,
With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.
Keats, Eve of St. Agnes, iv.
During the earlier half of the seventeenth century a
small group of poets, imitating Spenser both in substance
and in external manner, introduced a number of
stanzas, some of them not to be admired, whose chief
characteristic is the alexandrine for a last line—e. g.,
abababcc5c6, ababcc5c6, ababbcc5c6, and ababbc5c6 (which
last is that of Milton's On the Death of a Fair Infant,
The Passion, and the introduction to On the Morning
of Christ's Nativity). Another modification is that of
Milton's Ode itself, aa3b5cc3b5d4d6. Matthew Prior attempted
to improve the Spenserian stanza in his Ode
on the Battle of Ramillies by a rime scheme (suggested
perhaps by the English sonnet) ababcdcde5e6—of
which Dr. Johnson says: "He has altered the stanza
of Spenser, as a house is altered by building another
house in its place of a different form." Still farther
from the Spenserian original, but probably a development
from it, is Shelley's To a Skylark abab3b6 (mainly
in falling rhythm); and an extension of this last is
Swinburne's Hertha (see above, page 81) abab2b6 in
triple rising rhythm.
Fourteen-Line Stanza: Sonnet
A sonnet is a moment's monument,—
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
Of its own arduous fulness reverent:
Carve it in ivory or in ebony,
As Day or Night may rule, and let Time see
Its flowering crest impearled and orient.
A sonnet is a coin: its face reveals
The soul,—its converse, to what Power 'tis due:—
Whether for tribute to the august appeals
Of Life, or dower in Love's high retinue,
It serve; or, 'mid the dark wharf's cavernous breath,
In Charon's palm it pay the toll to Death.
Dante Gabriel Rosetti.
The sonnet is a world, where feelings caught
In webs of phantasy, combine and fuse
Their kindred elements 'neath mystic dews
Shed from the ether round man's dwelling wrought;
Distilling heart's content, star-fragrance fraught
With influences from breathing fires
Of heaven in everlasting endless gyres
Enfolding and encircling orbs of thought.
John Addington Symonds.
A sonnet is a wave of melody:
From heaving waters of the impassioned soul
A billow of tidal music one and whole
Flows, in the "octave"; then, returning free,
Its ebbing surges in the "sestet" roll
Back to the deeps of Life's tumultuous sea.
Theodore Watts-Dunton.
It is the pure white diamond Dante brought
To Beatrice; the sapphire Laura wore
When Petrarch cut it sparkling out of thought;
The ruby Shakespeare hewed from his heart's core;
The dark, deep emerald that Rossetti wrought
For his own soul, to wear for evermore.
Eugene Lee-Hamilton.[60]
The only English stanza that can be said to rival the
Spenserian in artistic merit is the sonnet: but the two
are for very different purposes, the one being nearly
always used in long, clearly connected series, generally
narrative, the other nearly always as an independent
poem. Even when sonnets are written in 'sequences,'
the relation of the individual sonnets to each other is
rarely very close; the unity of the whole sequence (as in
Rossetti's House of Life, for example, or Mrs. Browning's
Sonnets from the Portuguese) is one merely of
general tone and subject. Some of Shakespeare's sonnets
are bound together by an intimate unity like
stanzas of one poem; others are completely detached.
Occasionally a poem is composed of three or four sonnet-stanzas,
as Leigh Hunt's The Fish, the Man, and
the Spirit, but even then each sonnet remains an independent
whole.
The word 'sonnet,' borrowed with the metrical
form from Italy in the late sixteenth century,[61] was at
first used loosely for almost any short poem on love not
obviously a 'song'; but soon the term became restricted
to a poem of fourteen 5-stress iambic lines
arranged according to one of two definite rime schemes
or their modifications. These two rime schemes are
the original Italian abba abba cde cde and the English
abab cdcd efef gg.
Italian Sonnet. The organization of the subject matter
of an Italian sonnet is (at least theoretically) as
fixed as that of the rimes. The whole should aim to
convey without irrelevant detail a single thought or
feeling. The first quatrain, abba, should introduce the
subject; the second, abba, should develop it to a certain
point, at which a pause occurs; such is the octave. The
sestet continues in the first tercet, cde, the thought or
feeling in a new direction or from a new point of view,
and in the second, cde, brings it to a full conclusion.[62]
The rime sounds of the octave and those of the sestet
should be harmonious but not closely similar.
It stands to reason that very few poets have enslaved
themselves to such an imperious master without
assuming certain liberties. Very few sonnets of any
poetic value can be found conforming strictly to all
these requirements. But the general purport of the
formal division may be seen in Christina Rossetti's
poignant "Remember"—