Chapter VIII: Part 8

The great variety of modulation conspicuous in English verse, will be found upon trial to arise chiefly from the pauses and accents; and therefore these circumstances are of greater importance than is commonly thought. There is a degree of intricacy in this branch of our subject, and it will require some pains to give a distinct view of it. But we must not be discouraged by difficulties. The pause, which paves the way to the accent, offers itself first to our examination. From a very short trial, the following facts will be verified. 1st, A line admits but one capital pause. 2d, In different lines, we find this pause after the fourth syllable, after the fifth, after the sixth, and after the seventh. These particulars lay a solid foundation for dividing English heroic lines into four sorts, distinguished by the different places of the pause. Nor is this an idle distinction. On the contrary, unless it be kept in view, we cannot have any just notion of the richness and variety of English versification. Each sort or order hath a melody peculiar to itself, readily distinguishable by a good ear; and, in the sequel, I am not without hopes to make the cause of this peculiarity sufficiently evident. It must be observed, at the same time, that the pause cannot be made indifferently at any of the places mentioned. It is the sense that regulates the pause, as will be seen more fully afterward; and consequently, it is the sense that determines of what order every line must be. There can be but one capital musical pause in a line; and this pause ought to coincide, if possible, with a pause in the sense; in order that the sound may accord with the sense.

What is said must be illustrated by examples of each sort or order. And first of the pause after the fourth syllable:

Back through the paths || of pleasing sense I ran

Again,

Profuse of bliss || and pregnant with delight

After the 5th:

So when an angel || by divine command,
With rising tempests || shakes a guilty land,

After the 6th:

Speed the soft intercourse || from soul to soul

Again,

Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall part

After the 7th:

And taught the doubtful battle || where to rage

Again,

And in the smooth description || murmur still

Beside the capital pause now mentioned, other inferior or semipauses will be discovered by a nice ear. Of these there are commonly two in each line; one before the capital pause, and one after it. The former is invariably placed after the first long syllable, whether the line begin with a long syllable or a short. The other in its variety imitates the capital pause. In some lines it follows the 6th syllable, in some the 7th, and in some the 8th. Of these semipauses take the following examples.

* * * * *

1st and 8th:

Led | through a sad || variety | of wo.

1st and 7th:

Still | on that breast || enamour’d | let me lie

2d and 8th:

From storms | a shelter || and from heat | a shade

2d and 6th:

Let wealth | let honour || wait | the wedded dame

2d and 7th:

Above | all pain || all passion | and all pride

Even from these few examples, it appears, that the place of the last semipause, like that of the full pause, is directed in a good measure by the sense. Its proper place with respect to the melody is after the eighth syllable, so as to finish the line with an Iambus distinctly pronounced, which, by a long syllable after a short, is a preparation for rest. If this hold, the placing this semipause after the 6th or after the 7th syllable, must be directed by the sense, in order to avoid a pause in the middle of a word, or betwixt two words intimately connected; and so far melody is justly sacrificed to sense.

In discoursing of the full pause in a Hexameter line, it is laid down as a rule, That it ought never to divide a word. Such licence deviates too far from the connection that ought to be betwixt the pauses of sense and of melody. And in an English line, it is for the same reason equally wrong to divide a word by a full pause. Let us justify this reason by experiments.

A noble super||fluity it craves

Abhor, a perpe||tuity should stand

Are these lines distinguishable from prose? Scarcely, I think.

The same rule is not applicable to a semipause, which being short and faint, is not sensibly disagreeable when it divides a word.

Relent|less walls || whose darksome round | contains

For her | white virgins || hyme|neals sing

In these | deep solitudes || and aw|ful cells

It must however be acknowledged, that the melody here suffers in some degree. A word ought to be pronounced without any rest betwixt its component syllables. The semipause must bend to this rule, and thereby vanisheth almost altogether.

With regard to the capital pause, it is so essential to the melody, that a poet cannot be too nice in the choice of its place, in order to have it full, clear, and distinct. It cannot be placed more happily than with a pause in the sense; and if the sense require but a comma after the fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh syllable, there can be no difficulty about this musical pause. But to make such coincidence essential, would cramp versification too much; and we have experience for our authority, that there may be a pause in the melody where the sense requires none. We must not however imagine, that a musical pause may be placed at the end of any word indifferently. Some words, like syllables of the same word, are so intimately connected as not to bear a separation even by a pause. No good poet ever attempted to separate a substantive from its article: the dividing such intimate companions, would be harsh and unpleasant. The following line, for example, cannot be pronounced with a pause as marked.

If Delia smile, the || flow’rs begin to spring

But ought to be pronounced in the following manner.

If Delia smile, || the flow’rs begin to spring.

If then it be not a matter of indifferency where to make the pause, there ought to be rules for determining what words may be separated by a pause and what are incapable of such separation. I shall endeavour to unfold these rules; not chiefly for their utility, but in order to exemplify some latent principles that tend to regulate our taste even where we are scarce sensible of them. And to that end, it seems the eligible method to run over the verbal relations, beginning with the most intimate. The first that presents itself, is that of adjective and substantive, being the relation of substance and quality, the most intimate of all. A quality cannot exist independent of a substance, nor is it separable from it even in imagination, because they make parts of the same idea; and for that reason, it must, with regard to melody, be disagreeable, to bestow upon the adjective a sort of independent existence, by interjecting a pause betwixt it and its substantive. I cannot therefore approve the following lines, nor any of the sort; for to my taste they are harsh and unpleasant.

Of thousand bright || inhabitants of air

The sprites of fiery || termagants inflame

The rest, his many-colour’d || robe conceal’d

The same, his ancient || personage to deck

Ev’n here, where frozen || Chastity retires

I sit, with sad || civility, I read

Back to my native || moderation slide

Or shall we ev’ry || decency confound

Time was, a sober || Englishman wou’d knock

And place, on good || security, his gold

Taste, that eternal || wanderer, which flies

But ere the tenth || revolving day was run

First let the just || equivalent be paid

Go, threat thy earth-born || Myrmidons; but here

Haste to the fierce || Achilles’ tent (he cries)

All but the ever-wakeful || eyes of Jove

Your own resistless || eloquence employ

I have upon this article multiplied examples, that in a case where I have the misfortune to dislike what passes current in practice, every man upon the spot may judge by his own taste. The foregoing reasoning, it is true, appears to me just: it is however too subtile, to afford conviction in opposition to taste.

Considering this matter in a superficial view, one might be apt to imagine, that it must be the same, whether the adjective go first, which is the natural order, or the substantive, which is indulged by the laws of inversion. But we soon discover this to be a mistake. Colour cannot be conceived independent of the surface coloured; but a tree may be conceived, as growing in a certain spot, as of a certain kind, and as spreading its extended branches all around, without ever thinking of the colour. In a word, qualities, though related all to one subject, may be considered separately, and the subject may be considered with some of its qualities independent of others; though we cannot form an image of any single quality independent of the subject. Thus then, though an adjective named first be inseparable from the substantive, the proposition does not reciprocate. An image can be formed of the substantive independent of the adjective; and for this reason, they may be separated by a pause, when the former is introduced before the latter:

For thee, the fates || severely kind ordain

And curs’d with hearts || unknowing how to yield.

The verb and adverb are precisely in the same condition with the substantive and adjective. An adverb, which expresses a certain modification of the action expressed by the verb, is not separable from it even in imagination. And therefore I must also give up the following lines.

And which it much || becomes you to forget

’Tis one thing madly || to disperse my store

But an action may be conceived leaving out a particular modification, precisely as a subject may be conceived leaving out a particular quality; and therefore when by inversion the verb is first introduced, it has no bad effect to interject a pause betwixt it and the adverb which follows. This may be done at the close of a line, where the pause is at least as full as that is which divides the line:

While yet he spoke, the Prince advancing drew
Nigh to the lodge, _&c._

The agent and its action come next, expressed in grammar by the active substantive and its verb. Betwixt these, placed in their natural order, there is no difficulty of interjecting a pause. An active being is not always in motion, and therefore it is easily separable in idea from its action. When in a sentence the substantive takes the lead, we know not that action is to follow; and as rest must precede the commencement of motion, this interval is a proper opportunity for a pause.

On the other hand, when by inversion the verb is placed first, is it lawful to separate it by a pause from the active substantive? I answer not, because an action is not in idea separable from the agent, more than a quality from the substance to which it belongs. Two lines of the first rate for beauty have always appeared to me exceptionable, upon account of the pause thus interjected betwixt the verb and the consequent substantive; and I have now discovered a reason to support my taste:

In these deep solitudes and awful cells,
Where heav’nly-pensive || Contemplation dwells,
And ever-musing || Melancholy reigns.

The point of the greatest delicacy regards the active verb and the passive substantive placed in their natural order. On the one side it will be observed, that these words signify things which are not separable in idea. Killing cannot be conceived without some being that is put to death, nor painting without a surface upon which the colours are spread. On the other side, an action and the thing on which it is exerted, are not, like substance and quality, united in one individual subject. The active subject is perfectly distinct from that which is passive; and they are connected by one circumstance only, that the action exerted by the former, is exerted upon the latter. This makes it possible to take the action to pieces, and to consider it first with relation to the agent, and next with relation to the patient. But after all, so intimately connected are the parts of the thought, that it requires an effort to make a separation even for a moment. The subtilising to such a degree is not agreeable, especially in works of imagination. The best poets however, taking advantage of this subtilty, scruple not to separate by a pause an active verb from its passive subject. Such pauses in a long work may be indulged; but taken singly, they certainly are not agreeable. I appeal to the following examples.

The peer now spreads || the glitt’ring forfex wide

As ever sully’d || the fair face of light

Repair’d to search || the gloomy cave of Spleen

Nothing, to make || philosophy thy friend

Shou’d chance to make || the well-dress’d rabble stare

Or cross, to plunder || provinces, the main

These madmen never hurt || the church or state

How shall we fill || a library with wit

What better teach || a foreigner the tongue?

Sure, if I spare || the minister, no rules
Of honour bind me, not to maul his tools.

On the other hand, when the passive subject by inversion is first named, there is no difficulty of interjecting a pause betwixt it and the verb, more than when the active subject is first named. The same reason holds in both, that though a verb cannot be separated in idea from the substantive which governs it, and scarcely from the substantive it governs; yet a substantive may always be conceived independent of the verb. When the passive subject is introduced before the verb, we know not that an action is to be exerted upon it; therefore we may rest till the action commences. For the sake of illustration take the following examples.

Shrines! where their vigils || pale-ey’d virgins keep

Soon as thy letters || trembling I unclose

No happier task || these faded eyes pursue

What is said about placing the pause, leads to a general observation, which I shall have occasion for afterwards. The natural order of placing the active substantive and its verb, is more friendly to a pause than the inverted order. But in all the other connections, inversion affords by far a better opportunity for a pause. Upon this depends one of the great advantages that blank verse hath over rhyme. The privilege of inversion, in which it far excels rhyme, gives it a much greater choice of pauses, than can be had in the natural order of arrangement.

We now proceed to the slighter connections, which shall be discussed in one general article. Words connected by conjunctions and prepositions freely admit a pause betwixt them, which will be clear from the following instances.

Assume what sexes || and what shape they please

The light militia || of the lower sky

Connecting particles were invented to unite in a period two substantives signifying things occasionally united in the thought, but which have no natural union. And betwixt two things not only separable in idea, but really distinct, the mind, for the sake of melody, chearfully admits by a pause a momentary disjunction of their occasional union.

* * * * *

One capital branch of the subject is still upon hand, to which I am directed by what is just now said. It concerns those parts of speech which singly represent no idea, and which become not significant till they be joined to other words. I mean conjunctions, prepositions, articles, and such like accessories, passing under the name of _particles_. Upon these the question occurs, Whether they can be separated by a pause from the words that make them significant? Whether, for example, in the following lines, the separation of the accessory preposition from the principal substantive, be according to rule?

The goddess with || a discontented air

And heighten’d by || the diamond’s circling rays

When victims at || yon altar’s foot we lay

So take it in || the very words of Creech

An ensign of || the delegates of Jove

Two ages o’er || his native realm he reign’d

While angels, with || their silver wings o’ershade

Or separating the conjunction from the word it connects with what goes before:

Talthybius and || Eurybates the good

It will be obvious at the first glance, that the foregoing reasoning upon objects naturally connected, are not applicable to words which of themselves are mere ciphers. We must therefore have recourse to some other principle for solving the present question. These particles out of their place are totally insignificant. To give them a meaning, they must be joined to certain words. The necessity of this junction, together with custom, forms an artificial connection, which has a strong influence upon the mind. It cannot bear even a momentary separation, which destroys the sense, and is at the same time contradictory to practice. Another circumstance tends still more to make this separation disagreeable. The long syllable immediately preceding the full pause, must be accented; for this is required by the melody, as will afterward appear. But it is ridiculous to accent or put an emphasis upon a low word that raises no idea, and is confined to the humble province of connecting words that raise ideas. And for that reason, a line must be disagreeable where a particle immediately precedes the full pause; for such construction of a line makes the melody discord with the sense.

* * * * *

Hitherto we have discoursed upon that pause only which divides the line. Are the same rules applicable to the concluding pause? This must be answered by making a distinction. In the first line of a couplet, the concluding pause differs little, if at all, from the pause which divides the line; and for that reason, the rules are applicable to both equally. The concluding pause of the couplet, is in a different condition: it resembles greatly the concluding pause in a Hexameter line. Both of them indeed are so remarkable, that they never can be graceful, unless when they accompany a pause in the sense. Hence it follows, that a couplet ought always to be finished with some close in the sense; if not a point, at least a comma. The truth is, that this rule is seldom transgressed. In Pope’s works, upon a cursory search indeed, I found but the following deviations from the rule.

Nothing is foreign: parts relate to whole;
One all extending, all-preserving soul
Connects each being----

Another:

To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow’rs,
To steal from rainbows ere they drop in show’rs
A brighter wash----

But now, supposing the connection to be so slender as to admit a pause, it follows not that a pause may always be put. There is one rule to which every other ought to bend, That the sense must never be wounded or obscured by the music; and upon that account, I condemn the following lines:

Ulysses, first || in public cares, she found.

And,

Who rising, high || th’ imperial sceptre rais’d.

With respect to inversion, it appears both from reason and experiments, that many words which cannot bear a separation in their natural order, admit a pause when inverted. And it may be added, that when two words, or two members of a sentence, in their natural order, can be separated by a pause, such separation can never be amiss in an inverted order. An inverted period, which runs cross to the natural train of ideas, requires to be marked in some measure even by pauses in the sense, that the parts may be distinctly known. Take the following examples.

As with cold lips || I kiss’d the sacred veil.

With other beauties || charm my partial eyes.

Full in my view || set all the bright abode.

With words like these || the troops Ulysses rul’d.

Back to th’ assembly roll || the thronging train.

Not for their grief || the Grecian host I blame.

The same where the separation is made at the close of the first line of the couplet:

For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease
Assume what sexes and what shapes they please.

The pause is tolerable even at the close of the couplet, for the reason just now suggested, that inverted members require some slight pause in the sense:

’Twas where the plane-tree spread its shades around:
The altars heav’d; and from the crumbling ground
A mighty dragon shot.

Thus a train of reasoning hath insensibly led us to conclusions with regard to the musical pause, very different from those in the first section, concerning the separating by an interjected circumstance words intimately connected. One would conjecture, that where-ever words are separable by interjecting a circumstance, they should be equally separable by interjecting a pause. But, upon a more narrow inspection, the appearance of analogy vanisheth. To make this evident, I need only premise, that a pause in the sense distinguishes the different members of a period from each other; that two words of the same member may be separated by a circumstance, all the three making still but one member; and therefore that a pause in the sense has no connection with the separation of words by interjected circumstances. This sets the matter in a clear light. It is observed above, that the musical pause is intimately connected with the pause in the sense; so intimately indeed, that regularly they ought to coincide. As this would be too great a restraint, a licence is indulged, to place pauses for the sake of the music where they are not necessary for the sense. But this licence must be kept within bounds. And a musical pause ought never to be placed where a pause is excluded by the sense; as, for example, betwixt the adjective and following substantive which make parts of the same idea, and still less betwixt a particle and the word which makes it significant.

Abstracting at present from the peculiarity of modulation arising from the different pauses, it cannot fail to be observed in general, that they introduce into our verse no slight degree of variety. Nothing more fatigues the ear, than a number of uniform lines having all the same pause, which is extremely remarkable in the French versification. This imperfection will be discerned by a fine ear even in the shortest succession, and becomes intolerable in a long poem. Pope excels all the world in the variety of his modulation, which indeed is not less perfect of its kind than that of Virgil.

From what is now said, there ought to be one exception. Uniformity in the members of a thought, demands equal uniformity in the members of the period which expresses that thought. When therefore resembling objects or things are expressed in a plurality of verse-lines, these lines in their structure ought to be as uniform as possible, and the pauses in particular ought all of them to have the same place. Take the following examples.

By foreign hands || thy dying eyes were clos’d,
By foreign hands || thy decent limbs compos’d,
By foreign hands || thy humble grave adorn’d.

Again,

Bright as the sun, || her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the sun, || they shine on all alike.

Speaking of Nature, or the God of Nature:

Warms in the sun || refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars || and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life || extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided || operates unspent.

Pauses are like to dwell longer upon hand than I imagined; for the subject is not yet exhausted. It is laid down above, that English heroic verse, considering melody only, admits no more than four capital pauses; and that the capital pause of every line is determined by the sense to be after the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, or seventh syllable. And that this doctrine holds true so far as melody alone is concerned, every good ear will bear testimony. At the same time, examples are not unfrequent, in Milton especially, of the capital pause being after the first, the second, or the third syllable. And that this licence may be taken, even gracefully, when it adds vigour to the expression, I readily admit. So far the sound may be justly sacrificed to the sense or expression. That this licence may be successfully taken, will be clear from the following example. Pope, in his translation of Homer, describes a rock broke off from a mountain, and hurling to the plain, in the following words.

From steep to steep the rolling ruin bounds;
At every shock the crackling wood resounds;
Still gath’ring force, it smokes; and urg’d amain,
Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetuous to the plain:
There stops || So Hector. Their whole force he prov’d,
Resistless when he rag’d; and when he stopt, unmov’d.

In the penult line the proper place of the musical pause is at the end of the fifth syllable; but it enlivens the expression by its coincidence with that of the sense at the end of the second syllable. The stopping short before the usual pause in the melody, aids the impression that is made by the description of the stone’s stopping short. And what is lost to the melody by this artifice, is more than compensated by the force that is added to the description. Milton makes a happy use of this licence; witness the following examples from his _Paradise Lost_.

---- Thus with the year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day || or the sweet approach of even or morn.

Celestial voices to the midnight-air
Sole || or responsive each to others note.

And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook || but delay’d to strike.

---- And wild uproar
Stood rul’d || stood vast infinitude confin’d.

---- And hard’ning in his strength
Glories || for never since created man
Met such embodied force.

From his slack hand the garland wreath’d for Eve
Down drop’d || and all the faded roses shed.

Of unessential night, receives him next,
Wide gaping || and with utter loss of being
Threatens him, _&c._

----For now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him || round he throws his baleful eyes, _&c._

If we consider the foregoing passages with respect to melody singly, the pauses are undoubtedly out of their proper place. But being united with those of the sense, they inforce the expression and enliven it greatly. And the beauty of expression is communicated to the sound, which, by a natural deception, makes even the melody appear more perfect than if the musical pauses were regular.

* * * * *

To explain the rules of accenting, two general observations must be premised. The first is, That accents have a double effect. They contribute to the melody, by giving it air and spirit: they contribute not less to the sense, by distinguishing important words from others. These two effects ought never to be separated. If a musical accent be put where the sense rejects it, we feel a discordance betwixt the thought and the melody. An accent, for example, placed on a word that makes no figure, has the effect to burlesk it, by giving it an unnatural elevation. The injury thus done to the sense, is communicated to the melody by the intimacy of connection, and both seem to be wounded. This rule is applicable in a peculiar manner to particles. It is indeed ridiculous to put an emphasis on a word which of itself has no meaning, and like cement serves only to unite words significant. The other general observation is, That a word of whatever number of syllables, is not accented upon more than one of them. Nor is this an arbitrary practice. The object represented by the word, is set in its best light by a single accent: reiterated accents on different syllables in succession, make not the emphasis stronger; but have an air, as if the sound only of the accented syllables were regarded, and not the sense of the word.

Keeping in view the foregoing observations, the doctrine of accenting English heroic verse, is extremely simple. In the first place, accenting is confined to the long syllables; for the melody admits not an accent upon any short syllable. In the next place, as the melody is inriched in proportion to the number of accents, every word that has a long syllable ought to be accented, unless where the accent is rejected by the sense: a word, as observed, that makes no figure by its signification, cannot bear an accent. According to this rule, a line may admit five accents; a case by no means rare.

But supposing every long syllable to be accented, there is constantly, in every line, one accent which makes a greater figure than the rest. This capital accent is that which precedes the capital pause. Hence it is distinguishable into two kinds; one that is immediately succeeded by the pause, and one that is divided from the pause by a short syllable. The former belongs to lines of the first and third order: the latter to those of the second and fourth. Examples of the first kind.

Smooth flow the wâves || the zephyrs gently play,
Belinda smîl’d || and all the world was gay.

He rais’d his azure wând || and thus begun

Examples of the second.

There lay three gârters || half a pair of gloves;
And all the trôphies || of his former loves.

Our humble prôvince || is to tend the fair,
Not a less plêasing || though less glorious care.

And hew triumphal ârches || to the ground

These accents make different impressions on the mind, which will be the subject of a following speculation. In the mean time, it may be safely pronounced a capital defect in the composition of verse, to put a low word, incapable of an accent, in the place where this accent should be. This bars the accent altogether; and I know no other fault more subversive of the melody, if it be not that of barring a pause altogether. I may add affirmatively, that it is a capital beauty in the composition of verse, to have the most important word of the sentence, so placed as that this capital accent may be laid upon it. No single circumstance contributes more to the energy of verse, than to have this accent on a word, that, by the importance of its meaning, is intitled to a peculiar emphasis. To show the bad effect of excluding the capital accent, I refer the reader to some instances given above, p. ooo, where particles are separated by a pause from the capital words that make them significant, and which particles ought, for the sake of the melody, to be accented, were they capable of an accent. Add to these the following instances from the Essay on Criticism.

Oft, leaving what || is natural and fit,
_line 448._

Not yet purg’d off, || of spleen and sour disdain
_l. 528._

No pardon vile || obscenity should find
_l. 531._

When love was all || an easy monarch’s care
_l. 537._

For ’tis but half || a judge’s talk, to know
_l. 562._

’Tis not enough, || taste, judgement, learning, join
_l. 563._

That only makes || superior sense belov’d
_l. 578._

Whose right it is, || uncensur’d, to be dull
_l. 590._

’Tis best sometimes || your censure to restrain
_l. 597._

When this fault is at the end of the line that closes a couplet, it leaves not the least trace of melody:

But of this frame the bearings, and the ties,
The strong connections, nice dependencies

In a line expressive of what is humble or dejected, it improves the resemblance betwixt the sound and sense, to exclude the capital accent. This, to my taste, is a beauty in the following lines.

In thêse deep sôlitudes || and aŵful cells

The pôor inhâbitant || behôlds in vain

To conclude this article, the accents are not, like the syllables, confined to a certain number. Some lines have no fewer than five, and there are lines that admit not above one. This variety, as we have seen, depends entirely on the different powers of the component words. Particles, even where they are long by position, cannot be accented; and polysyllables, whatever space they occupy, admit but one accent. Polysyllables have another defect, that they generally exclude the full pause. I have shown above, that few polysyllables can find place in the construction of English verse. Here are reasons for excluding them, could they find place.

* * * * *

I am now prepared to fulfil a promise concerning the four sorts of lines that enter into English heroic verse. That these have, each of them, a peculiar melody distinguishable by a good ear, I ventured to suggest, and promised to account for: and though this subject is extremely delicate, I am not without hopes of making good my engagement. First, however, like a wary general, I take all advantages the ground will permit. I do not aver, that this peculiarity of modulation is in every instance perceptible. Far from it. The impression made by a period, whether it be verse or prose, is occasioned chiefly by the thought, and in an inferior degree by the words; and these articles are so intimately united with the melody, that they have each of them a strong influence upon the others. With respect to the melody in particular, instances are without number, of melody, in itself poor and weak, passing for rich and spirited where it is supported by the thought and expression. I am therefore intitled to insist, that this experiment be tried upon lines of equal rank. And to avoid the perplexity of various cases, I must also insist, that the lines chosen for a trial be regularly accented before the pause: for upon a matter abundantly refined in itself, I would not willingly be imbarrassed with faulty and irregular lines. These preliminaries being adjusted, I begin with some general observations, that will save repeating the same thing over and over upon each particular case. And, first, an accent succeeded by a pause, makes sensibly a deeper impression than where the voice goes on without a stop: to make an impression requires time; and there is no time where there is no pause. The fact is so certain, that in running over a few lines, there is scarce an ear so dull as not readily to distinguish from others, that particular accent which immediately precedes the full pause. In the next place, the elevation of an accenting tone, produceth in the mind a similar elevation, which is continued during the pause. Every circumstance is different where the pause is separated from the accent by a short syllable. The impression made by the accent is more slight when there is no stop; and the elevation of the accent is gone in a moment by the falling of the voice in pronouncing the short syllable that follows. The pause also is sensibly affected by the position of the accent. In lines of the first and third order, the close conjunction of the accent and pause, occasions a sudden stop without preparation, which rouses the mind, and bestows on the melody a spirited air. When, on the other hand, the pause is separated from the accent by a short syllable, which always happens in lines of the second and fourth order, the pause is soft and gentle. This short unaccented syllable succeeding one that is accented, must of course be pronounced with a falling voice, which naturally prepares for a pause. The mind falls gently from the accented syllable, and slides into rest as it were insensibly. Further, the lines themselves, derive different powers from the position of the pause. A pause after the fourth syllable divides the line into two unequal portions, of which the largest comes last. This circumstance resolving the line into an ascending series, makes an impression in pronouncing like that of mounting upward. And to this impression contributes the redoubled effort in pronouncing the largest portion, which is last in order. The mind has a different feeling when the pause succeeds the fifth syllable. The line being divided into two equal parts by this pause, these parts, pronounced with equal effort, are agreeable by their uniformity. A line divided by a pause after the sixth syllable, makes an impression opposite to that first mentioned. Being divided into two unequal portions, of which the shortest is last in order, it appears like a slow descending series; and the second portion being pronounced with less effort than the first, the diminished effort prepares the mind for rest. And this preparation for rest is still more sensibly felt where the pause is after the seventh syllable, as in lines of the fourth order.

No person can be at a loss in applying these observations. A line of the first order is of all the most spirited and lively. To produce this effect, several of the circumstances above mentioned concur. The accent, being followed instantly by a pause, makes an illustrious figure: the elevated tone of the accent elevates the mind: the mind is supported in its elevation by the sudden unprepared pause which rouses and animates: and the line itself, representing by its unequal division an ascending series, carries the mind still higher, making an impression similar to that of mounting upward. The second order has a modulation sensibly sweet, soft, and flowing. The accent is not so sprightly as in the former, because a short syllable intervenes betwixt it and the pause: its elevation, by the same means, vanisheth instantaneously: the mind, by a falling voice, is gently prepared for a stop: and the pleasure of uniformity from the division of the line into two equal parts, is calm and sweet. The third order has a modulation not so easily expressed in words. It in part resembles the first order, by the liveliness of an accent succeeded instantly by a full pause. But then the elevation occasioned by this circumstance, is balanced in some degree by the remitted effort in pronouncing the second portion, which remitted effort has a tendency to rest. Another circumstance distinguisheth it remarkably. Its capital accent comes late, being placed on the sixth syllable; and this circumstance bestows on it an air of gravity and solemnity. The last order resembles the second in the mildness of its accent and softness of its pause. It is still more solemn than the third, by the lateness of its capital accent. It also possesses in a higher degree than the third, the tendency to rest; and by that circumstance is of all the best qualified for closing a period in the completest manner.

But these are not all the distinguishing characters of the different orders. Each order also, by means of its final accent and pause, makes a peculiar impression; so peculiar as to produce a melody clearly distinguishable from that of the others. This peculiarity is occasioned by the division which the capital pause makes in a line. By an unequal division in the first order, the mind has an impression of ascending; and is left at the close in the highest elevation, which is display’d on the concluding syllable. By this means, a strong emphasis is naturally laid upon the concluding syllable, whether by raising the voice to a sharper tone, or by expressing the word in a fuller tone. This order accordingly is of all the least proper for concluding a period, where a cadence is proper, and not an accent. In the second order, the final accent makes not so capital a figure. There is nothing singular in its being marked by a pause, for this is common to all the orders; and this order, being destitute of the impression of ascent, cannot rival the first order in the elevation of its accent, nor consequently in the dignity of its pause; for these always have a mutual influence. This order, however, with respect to its close, maintains a superiority over the third and fourth orders. In these the close is more humble, being brought down by the impression of descent, and by the remitted effort in pronouncing; considerably in the third order, and still more considerably in the last. According to this description, the concluding accents and pauses of the four orders being reduced to a scale, will form a descending series probably in an arithmetical progression.

After what is said, will it be thought refining too much to suggest, that the different orders are qualified for different purposes, and that a poet of genius will be naturally led to make a choice accordingly? I cannot think this altogether chimerical. It appears to me, that the first order is proper for a sentiment that is bold, lively, or impetuous; that the third order is proper for subjects grave, solemn, or lofty; the second for what is tender, delicate, or melancholy, and in general for all the sympathetic emotions; and the last for subjects of the same kind, when tempered with any degree of solemnity. I do not contend, that any one order is fitted for no other talk, than that assigned it. At that rate, no sort of modulation would be left for accompanying ordinary thoughts, that have nothing peculiar in them. I only venture to suggest, and I do it with diffidence, that one order is peculiarly adapted to certain subjects, and better qualified than the others for expressing such subjects. The best way to judge is by experiment; and to avoid the imputation of a partial search, I shall confine my instances to a single poem, beginning with the first order.

On her white breast, a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.
Her lively looks, a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfix’d as those:
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike,
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike.
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:
If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you’ll forget ’em all.
_Rape of the Lock._

In accounting for the remarkable liveliness of this passage, it will be acknowledged by every one who has an ear, that the modulation must come in for a share. The lines, all of them, are of the first order; a very unusual circumstance in the author of this poem, so eminent for variety in his versification. Who can doubt, that, in this passage, he has been led by delicacy of taste to employ the first order preferably to the others?

Second order.

Our humbler province is to tend the fair,
Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care;
To save the powder from too rude a gale,
Nor let th’ imprison’d essences exhale;
To draw fresh colours from the vernal flow’rs;
To steal from rainbows ere they drop their show’rs, _&c._

Again,

Oh, thoughtless mortals! ever blind to fate,
Too soon dejected, and too soon elate.
Sudden, these honours shall be snatch’d away,
And curs’d for ever this victorious day.

Third order.

To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note,
We trust th’important charge, the petticoat.

Again,

Oh say what stranger cause, yet unexplor’d,
Could make a gentle belle reject a lord?

A plurality of lines of the fourth order, would not have a good effect in succession; because, by a remarkable tendency to rest, its proper office is to close a period. The reader, therefore, must be satisfied with instances where this order is mixed with others.

Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav’n are cast,
When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last.

Again,

Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.

Again,

She sees, and trembles at th’ approaching ill,
Just in the jaws of ruin, and codille.

Again,

With earnest eyes, and round unthinking face,
He first the snuff-box open’d, then the case.

And this suggests another experiment, which is, to set the different orders more directly in opposition, by giving examples where they are mixed in the same passage.

First and second orders.

Sol through white curtains shot a tim’rous ray,
And ope’d those eyes that must eclipse the day.

Again,

Not youthful kings in battle seiz’d alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb’d of all their bliss,
Not ancient ladies when refus’d a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her manteau’s pinn’d awry,
E’er felt such rage, resentment, and despair,
As thou, sad virgin! for thy ravish’d hair.

First and third.

Think what an equipage thou hast in air,
And view with scorn two pages and a chair.

Again,

What guards the purity of melting maids,
In courtly balls, and midnight-masquerades,
Safe from the treach’rous friend, the daring spark,
The glance by day, the whisper in the dark?

Again,

With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre,
And breathes three am’rous sighs to raise the fire;
Then prostrate falls, and begs, with ardent eyes,
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize.

Again,

Jove’s thunder roars, heav’n trembles all around,
Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound,
Earth shakes her nodding tow’rs, the ground gives way,
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day!

Second and third.

Sunk in Thalestris’ arms, the nymph he found,
Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound.

Again,

On her heav’d bosom hung her drooping head,
Which with a sigh she rais’d; and thus she said.

Musing on the foregoing subject, I begin to doubt whether I have not been all this while in a reverie. Here unexpectedly a sort of fairy-scene opens, where every object is new and singular. Is there any truth in the appearance, or is it merely a work of imagination? The scene seems to be a reality; and if it can bear examination, it must exalt greatly the melody of English heroic verse. If uniformity prevail, in the arrangement, in the equality of the lines, and in the resemblance of the final sounds; variety is still more conspicuous in the pauses and accents, which are diversified in a surprising manner. The beauty that results from combined objects, is justly observed to consist in a due mixture of uniformity and variety[102]. Of this beauty many instances have already occurred, but none more illustrious than English versification. However rude it may be by the simplicity of arrangement, it is highly melodious by its pauses and accents, so as already to rival the most perfect species known in Greece or Rome. And it is no disagreeable prospect to find it susceptible of still greater refinement.

* * * * *

We proceed to blank verse, which hath so many circumstances in common with rhyme, that what is necessary to be said upon it may be brought within a narrow compass. With respect to form, it differs not from rhyme farther than in rejecting the jingle of similar sounds. But let us not think this difference a trifle, or that we gain nothing by it but the purifying our verse from a pleasure so childish. In truth, our verse is extremely cramped by rhyme; and the great advantage of blank verse is, that, being free from the fetters of rhyme, it is at liberty to attend the imagination in its boldest flights. Rhyme necessarily divides verse into couplets: each couplet makes a complete musical period; the parts of which are divided by pauses, and the whole summed up by a full close at the end: the modulation begins anew with the next couplet: and in this manner a composition in rhyme proceeds couplet after couplet. I have more than once had occasion to observe the influence that sound and sense have upon each other by their intimate union. If a couplet be a complete period with regard to the melody, it ought regularly to be so also with regard to the sense. This, it is true, proves too great a cramp upon composition; and licences are indulged, as explained above. These however must be used with discretion, so as to preserve some degree of uniformity betwixt the sense and the music. There ought never to be a full close in the sense but at the end of a couplet; and there ought always to be some pause in the sense at the end of every couplet. The same period as to sense may be extended through several couplets; but in this case each couplet ought to contain a distinct member, distinguished by a pause in the sense as well as in the sound; and the whole ought to be closed with a complete cadence. Rules such as these, must confine rhyme within very narrow bounds. A thought of any extent, cannot be reduced within its compass. The sense must be curtailed and broken into pieces, to make it square with the curtness of melody: and it is obvious, that short periods afford no latitude for inversion. I have examined this point with the greater accuracy, in order to give a just notion of blank verse; and to show that a slight difference in form may produce a very great difference in substance. Blank verse has the same pauses and accents with rhyme; and a pause at the end of every line, like what concludes the first line of a couplet. In a word, the rules of melody in blank verse, are the same that obtain with respect to the first line of a couplet. But luckily, being disengaged from rhyme, or, in other words, from couplets, there is access to make every line run into another, precisely as the first line of a couplet may run into the second. There must be a musical pause at the end of every line; but it is not necessary that it be accompanied with a pause in the sense. The sense may be carried on through different lines; till a period of the utmost extent be completed, by a full close both in the sense and the sound. There is no restraint, other than that this full close be at the end of a line. This restraint is necessary in order to preserve a coincidence betwixt sense and sound; which ought to be aimed at in general, and is indispensable in the case of a full close, because it has a striking effect. Hence the aptitude of blank verse for inversion; and consequently the lustre of its pauses and accents; for which, as observed above, there is greater scope in inversion, than when words run in their natural order.

In the second section of this chapter it is shown, that nothing contributes more than inversion to the force and elevation of language. The couplets of rhyme confine inversion within narrow limits. Nor would the elevation of inversion, were there access for it in rhyme, be extremely concordant with the humbler tone of that sort of verse. It is universally agreed, that the loftiness of Milton’s style supports admirably the sublimity of his subject; and it is not less certain, that the loftiness of his style arises chiefly from inversion. Shakespear deals little in inversion. But his blank verse, being a sort of measured prose, is perfectly well adapted to the stage. Laboured inversion is there extremely improper, because in dialogue it never can appear natural.

Hitherto I have considered the advantage of laying aside rhyme, with respect to that superior power of expression which verse acquires thereby. But this is not the only advantage of blank verse. It has another not less signal of its kind; and that is, of a more extensive and more complete melody. Its music is not, like that of rhyme, confined to a single couplet; but takes in a great compass, so as in some measure to rival music properly so called. The intervals betwixt its cadences may be long or short at pleasure; and, by this means, its modulation, with respect both to richness and variety, is superior far to that of rhyme; and superior even to that of the Greek and Latin Hexameter. Of this observation no person can doubt who is acquainted with the _Paradise Lost_. In that work there are indeed many careless lines; but at every turn it shines out in the richest melody as well as in the sublimest sentiments. Take the following specimen.