Sŏ̄me ¦ blŭ̄e | pēaks ¦ ĭ̄n | thĕ dīs|tănce rōse,
Ănd whīte | ăgāinst | thĕ cōld-|whīte skȳ,
Shŏne ōut | thĕir crōwn|ĭng snōws.
Ŏne wīl|lŏw ō|vĕr thĕ rīv|ĕr wēpt,
Ănd shōok |thĕ wāve | ăs thĕ wīnd | dĭd sīgh;
Ăbōve | ĭn thĕ wīnd | wăs thĕ swāl|low,
Chās¦ĭng | ĭtsēlf | ăt ĭts ōwn | wīld wīll,
Ănd fār | thrŏ' thĕ mār|ĭsh grēen | ănd stīll |
Thĕ tān|glĕd wā|tĕr-cōur|sĕs slēpt,
Shŏt ō|vĕr wĭth pūr|plĕ ănd grēen, | ănd yēl|low.
III.
Thĕ wīld | swă̄n's dēath-|hy̆mn tōok | thĕ sōul
Ŏf thāt | wāste plāce | wĭth jōy
Hīddĕn | ĭn sōr|rŏw: ăt fīrst | tŏ thĕ ēar
Thĕ wār|blĕ wăs lōw, | ănd fūll | ănd clēar;
Ănd flōat|ĭng ăbōut | thĕ ūn|dĕr-skȳ,
Prĕvāil|ĭng ĭn wēak|nĕss, thĕ cōr|ŏnăch stōle
Sōme|tĭmes ăfār, | ănd sōme|tĭmes ănēar;
Bŭt ănōn | hĕr āw|fŭl jū|bĭlănt vōice,
Wĭth ă mū|sĭc strānge | ănd mān|ĭfōld,
Flōw'd fōrth | ŏn ă cār|ŏl frēe | ănd bōld;
Ăs whēn | ă mīht|y̆ pēo|plĕ rĕjōice
Wĭth shāwms, | ănd wĭth cȳm|băls, ănd hārps | ŏf gōld,
Ănd thĕ tū|mŭlt ŏf thēir | ăcclāim | ĭs rōll'd
Thrŏ' thĕ ō|pĕn gātes | ŏf thĕ cī|ty̆ ăfār,
Tŏ thĕ shēp|hĕrd whŏ wātch|ĕth thĕ ē|vĕnīng stār.
Ănd thĕ crēep]|ĭng mōss|ĕs ănd clām|bĕrĭng wēeds,
Ānd thĕ wīl|lŏw-brān|chĕs hōar | ănd dānk,
Ănd thĕ wā|vy̆ swēll | ŏf thĕ sōugh|ĭng rēeds,
Ănd thĕ wāve-|wōrn hōrns | ŏf thĕ ēch|ŏĭng bānk,
Ănd thĕ sīl|vĕry̆ mār|ĭsh-flōwers | thăt thrōng
Thĕ dē|sŏlăte crēeks | ănd pōols | ămōng,
Wĕre flōod|ĕd ō|vĕr wĭth ēd|dy̆ĭng sōng.
This piece, with the "Hollyhock" (v. sup. p. 27), Blake's "Mad Song"
(§ XXXV.), Shelley's "Cloud" (note, p. 100), and the Christabel
selections (§ XXXVIII.), will almost completely exemplify substitution
in lyric. But the germ is far older—in Shakespeare, in "E.I.O.," and
even in pieces earlier still.
XLIV. The Stages of the Metre of "Dolores" and the Dedication of
"Poems and Ballads"
This remarkable measure illustrates, with especial appositeness, the
natural history of metrical evolution, and so may be dealt with more
fully as a specimen. There can be little doubt that its original, or
the earliest form to which it can be traced, is the split Alexandrine
or three-foot iambic, which appears in the French of Philippe de Thaun,
and in several English poems, such as the Bestiary, translated from
Philippe's—
After | him he | filleth,
Drageth | dust with | his stert,
and as even King Horn. But this gives far too little room in
English; and the rhymes, when rhyme is introduced, come too quick.
Substitution of trisyllabic feet remedies both faults; while the actual
six, with interchanged rhyme, gives beautiful work, though the lines
are still rather short:
With lon|gyng y | am lad,
On mol|de I wax|e mad,
a maid|e mar|reth me;
Y grede, | y grone, | un-glad,
For sel|den y | am sad
that sem|ly for | te se;
Levedi, | thou rew|e me,
To rou|the thou havest | me rad;
Be bote | of that | y bad,
My lyf | is long | on the.
(Wright's Specimens of Lyric Poetry, No. vii.)
This shortness kept it back, more especially when the fear of mainly
trisyllabic measures came in after the fifteenth-century anarchy. But
as soon as that fear disappeared, and the anapæst forced itself into
general use, logic, assisted by tune, suggested a cutting down of the
popular dimeter or four-foot anapæstic line to three. This, for a long
time, maintained itself in strict literature without much variety
of structure, as, at different times, is shown by Shenstone in the
well-known—
Since Phyl|lis vouchsafed | me a look,
I nev|er once dreamt | of my vine;
May I lose | both my pipe | and my crook,
If I know | of a kid | that is mine;
and by Cowper in the still better known "Alexander Selkirk" lines—
I am mon|arch of all | I survey,
My right | there is none | to dispute:
From the cen|tre all round | to the sea
I am lord | of the fowl | and the brute;
and in "Catherina"—
She came— | she is gone— | we have met,
And meet | perhaps nev|er again:
The sun | of that mo|ment is set
And seems | to have ris|en in vain.
Now, though these lines are pretty, they are exposed to the charge
of being pretty sing-song, and monotonous jingle. But this had, long
before Cowper, been to a great extent remedied, though for comic
purposes only or mainly, in such things as Gay's "Molly Mog," quoted
above, and Chesterfield-Pulteney's
Had I Hanover, Bremen, and Ver|den,
And likewise the Duchy of Zell,
I would part with them all for a far|thing,
To have my dear Molly Lepell!
(Pronounce "Verden" with the proper English value of er, and give
"farthing" its then correct form of "farden," and the rhyme will be
spotless.)
What it was that made Byron take this up for a serious purpose in the
lines to Haidee (before Don Juan) is not, I believe, known:
I en|ter thy gar|den of ro|ses,
Belov|ed and fair | Haidee,
Each morn|ing where Flo|ra repo|ses,
For sure|ly I see | her in thee.
The gain here, from the redundant syllable and double rhyme in the odd
lines, and from a rather more frequent use of dissyllabic feet to
prevent monotony, is immense. Praed adopted the measure, and improved
it still further, in his admirable "Letter of Advice":
Remem|ber the thrill|ing roman|ces
We read | on the bank | in the glen;
Remem|ber the suit|ors our fan|cies
Would pic|ture for both | of us then.
They wore | the red cross | on their shoul|der,
They had van|quished and par|doned their foe—
Sweet friend, | are you wi|ser or cold|er?
My own | Aramin|ta, say "No!"
And then Mr. Swinburne had the probably final inspiration of shortening
the last line to two feet (or an anapæstic monometer), with an
astonishing result of added and finished music:
Though the ma|ny lights dwin|dle to one | light,
There is help | if the heav|en has one,
Though the skies | be discrowned | of the sun|light,
And the earth | dispossessed | of the sun,
They have moon|light and sleep | for repay|ment
When, refreshed | as a bride | and set free,
With stars | and sea-winds | in her rai|ment,
Night sinks | on the sea.
XLV. Long Metres of Tennyson, Browning, Morris, and Swinburne
(a) Tennyson (The Lotos-Eaters):
For they | lie be|side their | nectar, | and the | bolts are | hurl'd
Fār bĕ|lōw thĕm | īn thĕ | vāllĕys, | ānd thĕ | clōuds ăre | līghtly̆ | curl'd
Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world,
Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,
Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.
(Trochaic six- and seven-foot lines, always hypercatalectic, or, in
stricter language, trochaic trimeters hypercatalectic and tetrameters
catalectic.)
At the close the poet avails himself of the iambic alternative which is
so effective, and has a pure fourteener:
Ŏ̄ rēst | yĕ, brō|thĕr mā|rĭnērs, | wĕ wīll | nŏt wān|dĕr mōre. |
(There is no trisyllabic substitution.)
(b) Tennyson (Maud):
Cōld ănd clēar-cŭt fāce, why̆ cōme yŏu sŏ crūelly̆ mēek,
Brēakĭng ă slūmbĕr ĭn whīch āll splēenfŭl fōlly̆ wăs drōwn'd,
Pāle wĭth thĕ gōldĕn bēam ŏf ăn ēyelăsh dēad ŏn thĕ chēek,
Passionless, pale, cold face, star-sweet on a gloom profound;
Womanlike, taking revenge too deep for a transient wrong
Done but in thought to your beauty, and ever as pale as before
Growing and fading and growing upon me without a sound,
Luminous, gemlike, ghostlike, deathlike, half the night long
Growing and fading and growing, till I could bear it no more,
Bŭt ărōse, and all by myself in my own dark garden ground,
Listening now to the tide in its broad-flung shipwrecking roar,
Now to the scream of a madden'd beach dragg'd down by the wave,
Walk'd in a wintry wind by a ghastly glimmer, and found
Thĕ shīning daffodil dead, and Orion low in his grave.
(A rather deceptive metre; for which reason foot-division has been
postponed above.) It may look at first sight like a trochaic run, but
this will be found not to fit. Then hexameters of the Evangeline
type, with a syllable cut off at the end, suggest themselves; but it
will be seen that some openings make this very bad. It is really a
six-foot anapæst with the usual allowance of iambic substitution and of
monosyllabic ("anacrustic") beginning, as thus:
Cold | and clear-|cut face, | why come | you so cru|elly meek,
. . . . . . .
But arose, | and all | by myself | in my own | dark gar|den ground,
. . . . . . .
The shin|ing daf|fodil dead,| and Ori|on low | in his grave.
(c) Tennyson (Voyage of Maeldune):
And we came | to the Isle | of Flowers: | their breath | met us out | on the seas,
For the Spring | and the mid|dle Sum|mer sat each | on the lap | of the breeze;
And the red | passion-flower | to the cliffs, | and the dark-|blue clem|atis, clung,
And starr'd | with a myr|iad blos|som the long | convol|vulus hung.
(Same metre, but almost purely anapæstic; the central pause frequently
strong.)
(d) Tennyson (Kapiolani)
When ¦ from the | ter¦rors of | Na¦ture a | peo¦ple have | fash¦ioned and | wor¦ship a | spir¦it of | E¦vil.
(Apparently intended for a dactylic octometer. Like all these things
in English, it probably goes better as anapæstic with anacrusis and
hypercatalexis. See dotted scansion.)
(e) Browning (Abt Vogler):
Would ¦ that the | struc¦ture | brave, ¦ the | man¦ifold | mu¦sic I | build,¦
Bid¦ding my | or¦gan o|bey, ¦| call¦ing its |keys ¦ to their | work,
Claim¦ing each | slave ¦ of the | sound ¦ at a | touch, ¦ as when | So¦lomon | willed
Ar¦mies of | an¦gels that | soar, ¦| le¦gions of | de¦mons that | lurk.
Man, brute, ¦| reptile, ¦| fly, ¦|| alien ¦ of | end ¦ and of | aim,
Ad¦verse | each ¦ from the | oth¦er, | hea¦ven-high ¦ hell-¦deep re|moved,
Should rush ¦ into sight ¦ at once ¦ as he named ¦ the ineff¦able name,
And pile ¦ him a pal¦ace straight, ¦ to plea¦sure the prin¦cess he loved.
(Note the alliteration.)
At first, as you read this, you can, if your ears are accustomed
to classical metres, have no doubt about the scheme. It is simply
the regular elegiac couplet "accentually" rendered in English, with
the abscission of the last syllable of the hexameter—a catalectic
hexameter and a pentameter acatalectic. For the first four lines of
the first octave there is no doubt at all. But when you get on to
the second half you are pulled up. In the fifth and sixth lines the
pentameter seems to have got to the first place, and the seventh is
no more a hexameter than the eighth is its proper companion. For a
moment you may fancy that this was intended—that the poet meant
octaves of two different parts. But when you look at the other stanzas
you will find that this is by no means the case. Truncated elegiac
cadence appears, reappears, disappears in the most bewildering fashion,
till you recognise—sooner or later according to your prosodic
experience—that it was only simulated cadence after all, a sort of
leaf-insect rhythm, and that the whole thing (as marked by the dotted
scansion lines) is in six-foot anapæsts equivalenced daringly, but
quite legitimately, with monosyllabic and dissyllabic feet.
(f) W. Morris ("The Wind"):
Ah! | no, no, | it is no|thing, sure|ly no|thing, at all,
On|ly the wild-|going wind | round | by the gar|den wall,
For the dawn | just now | is break|ing, the wind | begin|ning to fall.
Wind, wind, | thou art | sad, art | thou kind?
Wind, | wind, | unhap|py! thou | art blind,
Yet still | thou wan|derest | the lil|y-seed | to find.
(First three lines six-foot (trimeter) anapæsts with full substitution.
Refrain a graded "wheel" of four, four or five, and six iambic feet.)
(g) Morris (Love is Enough):
Such words shall my ghost see the chronicler writing
In the days that shall be—ah!—what would'st more, my fosterling?
Knowest thou not how words fail us awaking,
That we seemed to hear plain amid sleep and its sweetness.
(Intentionally irregular "accentual" lines, but with an anapæstic
or amphibrachic "under-hum." There is a good deal of alliteration
elsewhere, and some here.)
(h) Morris (Sigurd metre, but the actual example from The House of
the Wolfings):
Thou sayest it, I am outcast: || for a God that lacketh mirth
Hath no more place in God-home || and never a place on earth.
A man grieves, and he gladdens, || or he dies and his grief is gone;
But what of the grief of the Gods? and || the sorrow never undone?
Yea, verily, I am the outcast. || When first in thine arms I lay,
On the blossoms of the woodland || my godhead passed away;
Thenceforth unto thee I was looking || for the light and the glory of life,
And the Gods' doors shut behind me || till the day of the uttermost strife.
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou || wilt cast it into the night,
And cover thine head with the darkness || and cover thine eyes from the light.
Thou would'st go to the empty country || where never a seed is sown,
And never a deed is fashioned || and the place where each is alone;
But I thy thrall shall follow, || I shall come where thou seem'st to lie,
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, || and thou so dear and nigh!
A few bones white in their war-gear, || that have no help or thought,
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, || so nigh, so dear—and nought!
(A splendid construction from older and newer examples. Strongly
stressed, strictly middle-paused, but perfectly regular anapæstic
sixes, with substitution and a hypercatalectic syllable or half foot
at the pause.)
(i) Mr. Swinburne (Hesperia and Evening on the Broads).
The first line of Hesperia is practically a Kingsleyan hexameter (v.
inf.) of the very best kind—
Out | of the gold|en remote | wild west | where the sea | without shore | is;
while the second—
Full of the sunset and sad ¦ if at ¦ all with the fulness of joy,
is a pentameter of similar mould, with the centre gap cunningly filled
in by the two short stitches "if at," capable, as you see below in
Thee I beheld as bird ¦ borne ¦ in with the wind from the west,
of being duly equivalenced with one long stitch, like "borne." Yet
the second line is capable also of being scanned exactly as the
first—anacrusis and five anapæests—but without the final redundance
or hypercatalexis; and in other long lines you will find that the
principle of equivalence is preserved throughout—that two shorts, as in
Ăs ă wind | blows in | from the au|tumn that blows | from the re|gion of stories,
defeat the hexametrical movement, and pull off the mask at the
beginning, though it returns at the end. The metre is really anapæstic
throughout. And in Evening on the Broads the poet has carried this
further still, providing in some cases regular apparent elegiacs:
O|ver the ¦ sha|dowless ¦ wa|ters a¦drift | as a ¦ pin|nace ¦ in per|il,
Hangs | as in ¦ hea|vy sus¦pense || charged | with ir¦re|solute ¦ light.
(j) Mr. Swinburne (Choriambics):
Lōve, whăt | āiled thĕe tŏ lēave | līfe thăt wăs māde | lōvely̆ wĕ thōught | wĭth lōve?—
(k) Mr. Swinburne (other long anapæstic and trochaic measures):
If again | from the night | or the twi|light of a|ges Aris|tophanes | had ari|sen.
. . . . . . .
That the sea | was not love|lier than here | was the land, nor the night | than the day, | nor the day | than the night.
. . . . . . .
Night is | utmost | noon, for|lorn and | strong, with | heart a|thirst and | fasting.
. . . . . . .
Till the dark|ling desire | of delight | shall be far, | as a fawn | that is free | from the fangs | that pursue | her.
(These are respectively seven-foot anapæsts with redundance
(anapæstic tetrameter catalectic); ditto eight-foot (tetrameter
acatalectic); trochaic tetrameter acatalectic; and anapæstic tetrameter
hypercatalectic (eight feet and a half).)
XLVI. The Later Sonnet
(To illustrate the strict octave and sextet pattern with final rhymes
adjusted on the Italian pattern.)
Dante Rossetti:
Under the arch of Life, where love and death,
Tērrŏr and mys|tĕry̆, gūard | her shrine, I saw
Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe,
I drew it in as simply as my breath.
Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath
The sky and sea, bend o'er thee—which can draw
By sea, or sky, or woman, to one law
Thĕ ăllōt|ted burden of her palm and wreath.
This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still—long known to thee
By flying hair and flut|tĕrĭng hēm |—the beat
Fōllŏwĭng | her daily of thy heart and feet.
How pas|sĭonătelȳ | and irretrievably
In what fond flight, how many ways and days!
XLVII. The Various Attempts at "Hexameters" in English
(a) Earlier (Elizabethan):
All travel|lers do | gladly re|port great | praise of U|lysses,
For that he | knew many | men's man|nĕrs and | saw many | cities.
(Watson, ap. Asch. Schoolmaster, p. 73, ed. Arber.)
But thē | Queene in | meane while | carks quan|dare deepe | anguisht,
Her wound | fed by Ve|nus, with | firebayt | smoldred is | hooked:
Thee wights | doughtye man|hood, leagd | with gen|tilytye | nobil,
His woords | fitlye | placed, with his | heunly | phisnomye | pleasing,
March throgh her | hert mas|tring, all in | her breste deepelye she | printeth.
(Stanyhurst, Æn. iv. 1-5, ed. Arber, p. 94.)
What might I | call this | tree? A | Laurell? | O bonny | Laurell.
Needes to thy | bowes will I | bow this | knee and | vayle my bo|netto.
(Harvey in letter to Spenser, Eliz. Crit. Essays,
ed. Gregory Smith, i. 106.)
See yee the | blindefold|ēd pretie | god, that | feathered | archer
Of lo|vērs mise|ries || which maketh | his bloodie | game.
(Spenser in letter to Harvey, ibid. i. 99.)
(All these tried to accommodate—though sometimes rather
roughly—English pronunciation to such of the rules of Latin quantity,
by "nature" and "position," as could be applied. Some of them even
tried to make general rules for English quantity. But the wiser, from
Ascham to Campion, admitted that dactylic rhythm was difficult, if not
impossible, to keep up in our language.)
(b) Later Georgian and Victorian.
(1) Coleridge (Specimen c. 1799?):
In ¦ the hex|am¦eter | ri¦ses the | foun¦tain's | sil¦very | col¦umn;
In ¦ the pen|ta¦meter | aye || fall¦ing in | mel¦ody | back.
(A very fair attempt, but already showing the natural tendency of the
lines, when poetically rhythmed, to anapæstic—the dotted—scansion.)
(2) Southey (Vision of Judgment):
'Twas at that | sober | hour when the | light of | day is re|ceding
And from sur|rounding | things the | hues wherewith | day has a|dorned them
Fade like the | hopes of | youth, till the | beauty of | each has de|parted.
(Anapæstic run avoided with some skill, save now and then; but at the
cost of weak beginnings, frequent, and admitted, substitution of
trochaic for spondaic effect, and, above all, as in line 1, an ugly
rocking-horse division into three batches of two feet each instead of
the proper 2-1/2 + 3-1/2 or 3-1/2 + 2-1/2.)
(3) Longfellow (Evangeline):
Long with|in had been | spread the | snow-white | cloth on the | table;
There stood the | wheaten | loaf, and the | honey | fragrant with | wild flowers;
There stood the | tankard of | ale and the | cheese fresh | brought | from the | dairy;
And at the | head of the | board the | great arm-|chair of the | farmer.
Thus did Ev|angeline | wait at her | father's | door as the | sunset
Threw the long | shadows of | trees o'er the | broad am|brosial | meadows.
Ah! on her | spirit with|in a | deeper | shadow had | fallen.
(A popular, tunable sort of rhythm, obtained by a very large proportion
of dactyls—often really giving (and always when really good) the
anapæstic effect,—unhesitating adoption of trochees and even pyrrhics
for spondees, and not seldom the Southeyan split at feet 2 and 4. An
essentially rickety measure.)
(4) Clough—earlier (in the Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich—Evangeline
type, but with more spondees and spondaic endings):
I was quite | right last | night, it | is too sōon, tōo | sudden.
(5) Later he attempted English "quantitative" things of this kind:
Tō thĕ păl|āte grāte|ful; more | luscious | were not in | Eden;
and
Unto the | sweet flut|ing, girls, of a swarthy shĕphērd.
This deliberate neglect of pronunciation ("pălāte" for "pālăte,"
"shĕphērd" for "shēphĕrd") has, in the last half-century or so,
developed itself into a still more deliberate crusade against
pronunciation; it being supposed that a conflict of accent and quantity
has something attractive about it. Thus the late Mr. Stone wrote as a
hexameter:
Is my | weary tră|vāil[47] end|ēd? Much | further is | īn store.
(6) On the other hand, Kingsley's Andromeda—the best poem of
some length intended for English hexameters—is clearly, though not
consciously, anapæstic, as thus:
O|ver the moun|tain aloft | ran a rush | and a roll | and a roar|ing
Down|ward the breeze | came malig|nant and leapt | with a howl | to the wa|ter,
Roar|ing in cran|ny and crag | till the pil|lars and clefts | of the ba|salt
Rang | like a god-|swept lyre.
And Mr. Swinburne did the same thing (see above) consciously.
XLVIII. Minor Imitations of Classical Metres
(a) Sapphics (Watts):
When the | fierce North-|wind with his | airy | forces
Bears up | the Bal|tic to a | foaming | fury,
And the | red light|ning with a | storm of | hail comes
Rushing a|main down.
This illustrates—as do the pieces which it, beyond all doubt,
patterned, though in succession rather than directly (Cowper's "Hatred
and Vengeance," Southey's "Cold was the Night Wind," and Canning's
triumphant parody of this latter, the "Needy Knifegrinder")—the
unyokeableness of classical metres—when not merely iambic, trochaic,
or anapæstic—to English rhythm. The proper run of the Sapphic line is—
| tumti-tumtum-tumtity-tumti-tum | { | -ti | ; |
| -tum |
but this constantly in English, though not so much in the first line as
elsewhere, changes itself into
| tumtity-tum | { | -tum | || tumtiti-titumty. |
| -ti |
Mr. Swinburne has got it right, but only as a tour de force, and, as
in line 2, not always quite certainly.
Saw the | white im|placable | Aphro|dite,
Saw the | hair un|bound and the | feet un|sandalled
Shine as | fire of | sunset on | western |waters,
Saw the re|luctant.
But Southey and Canning always suggest the wrong:
Shē hăd nŏ ¦ hōme, thē̆ ¦ wōrld wăs ăll ¦ bĕfōre hĕr,
and
Stōry̆, sĭr? ¦ Blēss yŏu! ¦ Ī hăve nŏne ¦ tŏ tēll yŏu;
(b) Alcaics (Tennyson):
O migh|ty-mouthed | in|ventor of | harmonies,
O skilled | to sing | of | Time or E|ternity,
God-gift|ed or|gan-voice | of Eng|land,
Milton, a | name to re|sound for | ages.
(Correct, but not natural.)
(c) Hendecasyllabics (Coleridge):
Hear, my be|loved, an | old Mi|lesian | story!—
High, and em|bosom'd in | congre|gated | laurels,
Glimmer'd a temple upon a breezy headland;
In the dim distance, amid the skiey billows,
Rose a fair island; the god of flocks had blest it.
(These very pretty lines exhibit a most curious instance of the
unconscious force of the prosodic genius of a language. Coleridge was a
good classical scholar, and quite enough of a mathematician to know the
difference between 11 and 12. Yet every one of these hendecasyllabics
will be found to be a dodecasyllabic; the poet having substituted
(as in English prosody is quite allowable) an initial dactyl for the
dissyllabic foot of the original metre. Once more this shows the
English impatience of classical form.)
(d) Hendecasyllabics (Tennyson):
O you chorus of indolent reviewers,
Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,
Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem
All composed in a metre of Catullus.
.. .. .. .
Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tumble,
So fantastical is the dainty metre.
A triumph, but a criticism as well, as its own ending shows:
As some rare little rose, a piece of inmost
Horticultural art—
or "versicultural" rather.
(e) Galliambics.
These have been tried splendidly by Tennyson in Boadicea,
interestingly by Mr. George Meredith in Phaethon, unsuccessfully by
the late Mr. Grant Allen in his version of the Atys of Catullus. But
the metre is not quite plain sailing even in Greek and Latin, and it is
therefore better to leave it alone here and return to it in Glossary.
XLIX. Imitations of Artificial French Forms
(a) Triolet:
Rose kissed | me to-day.
Will she kiss | me to-mor|row?
Let it be | as it may,
Rose kissed | me to-day.
But the plea|sure gives way
To a sa|vour of sor|row;—
Rose kissed | me to-day,—
Will she | kiss me to-morrow?
(b) Rondeau:
With pipe and flute the rustic Pan
Of old made music sweet for man;
And wonder hushed the warbling bird,
And closer drew the calm-eyed herd,—
The rolling river slowlier ran.
Ah! would,—ah! would, a little span,
Some air of Arcady could fan
This age of ours, too seldom stirred
With pipe and flute!
But now for gold we plot and plan;
And from Beersheba unto Dan,
Apollo's self might pass unheard,
Or find the night-jar's note preferred;—
Not so it fared, when time began,
With pipe and flute!
(The number of lines in a rondeau is not immutable, nor is it in a
rondel, where the principle is the return of whole lines as in the
triolet, but, since the poem is longer, giving room for more not
repeated matter.)
(c) Ballade:
Ship, to the roadstead rolled,
What dost thou?—O, once more
Regain the port. Behold!
Thy sides are bare of oar,
Thy tall mast wounded sore
Of Africus, and see,
What shall thy spars restore?—
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
What cable now will hold
When all drag out from shore?
What god canst thou, too bold,
In time of need implore?
Look! for thy sails flap o'er,
Thy stiff shrouds part and flee,
Fast—fast thy seams outpour,—
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
What though thy ribs of old
The pines of Pontus bore!
Not now to stern of gold
Men trust, or painted prore!
Thou, or thou count'st it store
A toy of winds to be,
Shun thou the Cyclads' roar,—
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
ENVOY.
Ship of the State, before
A care, and now to me
A hope in my heart's core,—
Tempt not the tyrant sea!
(All these examples are Mr. Austin Dobson's, and inserted here by his
kind permission. It will be observed that the lines follow general
English prosodic rules. It is only the stanza that is borrowed.)
L. Later Rhymelessness
(a) M. Arnold (The Strayed Reveller. Words printed exactly as
original, except the added "and"; the also added brackets show the
unconscious decasyllabism):
[Ever new magic!
Hast thou then lured hither,]
[Wonderful Goddess, by thy art,
The young], [languid-eyed Ampelus,
Iacchus' darling—]
. . . . . . .
[They see the Indian
Drifting, knife in hand,]
[His frail boat moor'd to
A floating isle thick-matted]
[With large-leaved [and] low-creeping melon-leaves,]
[x]And the dark cucumber.
[He reaps, and stows them,
Drifting—drifting;—round him,
[Round his green harvest-plot,
Flow the cool lake-waves,]
[y]The mountains ring them.
(Here the first piece is three pure decasyllables, with redundance,
cut into five. The second requires only the addition of the italicised
"and" to make it a complete blank-verse passage with two shortened
lines or half-lines, x and y, of the kind common in Shakespeare.
The poem is crammed with shorter stanza-pieces of the same kind.)
(b) Mr. Henley ("Speed." Printed as original and as prose):
Roads where the stalwart
Soldier of Cæsar
Put by his bread
And his garlic, and girding
[His conquering sword
To his unconquered thigh,]
Lay down in his armour,
And went to his Gods
By the way that he'd made.
Roads where the stalwart soldier of Cæsar put by his
bread and his garlic, and girding [his conquering sword
to his unconquered thigh,] lay down in his armour, and
went to his Gods by the way he had made.
(The decasyllable is not quite avoided even here, as in the bracketed
phrase. But the main point is that the thing reads perfectly well as
prose, with no obvious suggestion of metre at all.)
LI. Some "Unusual" Metres and Disputed Scansions
Some measures of recent poets have been objected, or at least proposed,
as offering difficulties in respect of the system of this book. It has
therefore seemed well to scan them here.
(a) Frederic Myers (St. Paul):