I t was scarcely possible to explain what the feet in verse are without assuming the existence of lines, in order to give intelligible examples of the various feet. But the consideration of the construction of lines really belongs to this chapter. A line is composed of a certain number of feet, from two to almost any number short of ten or so—if indeed we may limit the number exactly, for there is nothing to prevent a man from writing a line of twenty feet if he have ingenuity enough to maintain the harmony and beat necessary to constitute verse. As a rule, we seldom meet with more than eight feet in a line. A line may consist of feet of the same description, or of a combination of various feet. And this combination may be exactly repeated in the corresponding line or lines, or one or more of the feet may be replaced by another corresponding in time or quantity. Here is an instance— "I knew " by the smoke that so gracefully curled ... And I said " 'if there's peace to be found in the world.'" Here the iambic "I kne´w" is resolved into the When only two feet go to a line, it is a dimeter. Three form a trimeter, four a tetrameter, five a pentameter, six a hexameter, seven a heptameter, eight an octameter, which, however, is usually resolved into two tetrameters. If the feet be iambics or trochees, of course the number of syllables will be double that of the feet—thus a pentameter will be decasyllabic. When dactyls or anapÆsts are used, of course the number of syllables exceeds the double of the feet. But there is no necessity for enlarging on this point: I have given enough to explain terms, with which the student may perhaps meet while reading up the subject of versification. As he may also meet with the terms "catalectic" and "acatalectic," it may be as well to give a brief explanation of them also. A catalectic line is one in which the last foot is not completed. An acatalectic is one in which the line and the foot terminate together. An extract from the "Bridge of Sighs," a dactylic poem, will illustrate this. Into her " mutiny; Rash and un"dutiful, Past all dis"honour; Death has left " on her Only the " beautiful. Take her up " tenderly, Lift her with " care; Fashion'd so " slenderly Young and so " fair." Here the fourth and fifth, the eighth and tenth lines are catalectic. In the first two the last foot needs one syllable, in the others it requires two. It is scarcely necessary to point out how such variations improve and invigorate the measure, by checking the gallop of the verse. We have now seen that the line may be composed of various numbers of the different feet. The next step to consider is the combination of lines into stanzas. Stanzas are formed of two or more lines. Two lines are styled a couplet, three a triplet, and four a quatrain, while other combinations owe their titles to those who have used them first or most, as in the case of the Spenserian stanza. The reader will see at once that, each of these kinds of stanzas being constructible of any of the styles of line before enumerated, each style of line being in its turn constructible of any of the sorts of feet described in a previous chapter, to make any attempt to give an exhaustive list of stanzas would be to enter upon an arithmetical progression alarming to think of. EXAMPLES. THE COUPLET OR DISTICH. Dimeter (four-syllabled). "Here, here I live And somewhat give." —Herrick, Hesperides. Tetrameter (eight-syllabled). "His tawny beard was th' equal grace Both of his wisdom and his face." —Butler, Hudibras. Tetrameter (seven-syllabled). "As it fell upon a day In the merry month of May." —Shakespeare. "Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools who came to scoff remained to pray." —Goldsmith, Deserted Village. Hexameter (twelve-syllabled). "Doth beat the brooks and ponds for sweet refreshing soil: That serving not—then proves if he his scent may foil." —Drayton, Polyolbion. Heptameter (fourteen-syllabled). "Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are; And glory to our sovereign liege, king Henry of Navarre." —Macaulay, Battle of Ivry. The couplet may also be formed of two lines of irregular length. "BelovËd, O men's mother, O men's queen! Arise, appear, be seen." —Swinburne, Ode to Italy. "Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles Miles on miles." —Browning, Love among the Ruins. "Morning, evening, noon, and night, 'Praise God,' sang Theocrite." —Browning, The Boy and the Angel. "Take the cloak from his face and at first Let the corpse do its worst." —Browning, After. "Or for a time we'll lie As robes laid by." —Herrick, Hesperides. "Give me a cell To dwell." —Herrick, Hesperides. TRIPLETS. Trimeter (six-syllabled). "And teach me how to sing Unto the lyric string My measures ravishing." —Herrick, Hesperides. Tetrameter (seven-syllabled). "O, thou child of many prayers, Life hath quicksands, life hath snares, Care and age come unawares." —Longfellow, Maidenhood. Octameter (fifteen syllabled). "Was a lady such a lady, cheeks so round and lips so red— On her neck the small face buoyant, like a bell-flower o'er its bed, O'er the breast's superb abundance where a man might base his head." —Browning, A Toccata. The triplet pure and simple, is not a very common form; it is most frequently combined with other forms to make longer stanzas. At times the second line, instead of rhyming with the first or third, finds an echo in the next triplet—sometimes in the second, but more often in the first and third lines. "Make me a face on the window there, Waiting, as ever mute the while, My love to pass below in the square. Dreary days, which the dead must spend Down in their darkness under the aisle." —Browning, The Statue and the Bust. Another species of triplet occurs in the Pope measure (pentameter-decasyllabic). It is formed by the introduction, after an ordinary couplet, of a third line, repeating the rhyme and consisting of eleven syllables and six feet. Dryden, however, and some other writers, gave an occasional triplet without the extra foot. The Alexandrine, i.e., the six-foot line, ought to close the sense, and conclude with a full stop. THE QUATRAIN. Of this form of stanza the name is legion. Of the most common styles, the reader's memory will supply numerous examples. I shall merely give a few of the rarer kinds. The quatrain may consist practically of two couplets, or of a couplet divided by a couplet, as in Tennyson's "In Memoriam." But the usual rule is to rhyme the first and third, and second and fourth. The laxity which leaves the two former unrhymed, is a practice which cannot be too strongly condemned. Quatrains so formed should in honesty be written as couplets, but such a condensation would possibly not suit the views of the mob of magazine-versifiers, who have inflicted this injury, with many others, upon English versification. It may be well to note here that the rhyme of the first and third lines should be as dissimilar as possible in sound to that of the second and fourth. "The woodlouse dropp'd and roll'd into a ball, Touch'd by some impulse, occult or mechanic, And nameless beetles ran along the wall In universal panic." —Hood, Haunted House. "That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye, Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers." —Browning, A Fair Woman. "All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame; All are but ministers of love, And feed his sacred flame." —Coleridge, Love. "What constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or labour'd mound, Thick wall, or moated gate, Nor cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd." —Jones, Ode. "Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way." —Bryant, To a Waterfowl. The bridal of the earth and sky, The dews shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die." —Herbert, Virtue. THE FIVE-LINE STANZA. I am inclined to think this one of the most musical forms of the stanza we possess. It is capable of almost endless variety, and the proportions of rhymes, three and two, seem to be especially conducive to harmony. It would be curious to go into the question how many popular poems are in this form. Here are two examples—both of them from favourite pieces:— "Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be." —Waller, To a Rose. "Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest; Like a cloud of fire, The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest." —Shelley, The Skylark. Mr Browning frequently uses this stanza, and with admirable effect. Although he has been accused of ruggedness by some critics, there is no modern poet who has a greater acquaintance with the various forms of verse, or can handle them more ably. The following are examples of his treatment:— Such a web, simple and subtle, Weave we on earth here, in impotent strife Backward and forward each throwing his shuttle— Death ending all with a knife?" —Master Hugues. "And yonder at foot of the fronting ridge, That takes the turn to a range beyond, Is the chapel, reach'd by the one-arch'd bridge, Where the water is stopp'd in a stagnant pond, Danced over by the midge." —By the Fireside. "Stand still, true poet that you are! I know you; let me try and draw you. Some night you'll fail us; when afar You rise, remember one man saw you— Knew you—and named a star," —Popularity. "Not a twinkle from the fly, Not a glimmer from the worm. When the crickets stopp'd their cry, When the owls forbore a term, You heard music—that was I!" —A Serenade. "When the spider to serve his ends, By a sudden thread, Arms and legs outspread, On the table's midst descends— Comes to find God knows what friends!" —Mesmerism. THE SIX-LINE STANZA. With the increasing number of lines comes an increasing number of combinations of rhymes. There is the combination of three couplets, and there is that of two couplets, with another pair of rhymes one line after the first, the other after the second couplet. Then there is a quatrain of alternate rhymes, and a final couplet—to mention no others. "Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages— Golden lads and girls all must Like chimney-sweepers come to dust." —Shakespeare. "One day, it matters not to know How many hundred years ago, A Spaniard stopt at a posada door; The landlord came to welcome him and chat Of this and that, For he had seen the traveller here before." —Southey, St Romuald. "And wash'd by my cosmetic brush, How Beauty's cheeks began to blush With locks of auburn stain— Not Goldsmith's Auburn, nut-brown hair That made her loveliest of the fair, Not loveliest of the plain." —Hood, Progress of Art. "Some watch, some call, some see her head emerge Wherever a brown weed falls through the foam; Some point to white eruptions of the surge— But she is vanish'd to her shady home, Under the deep inscrutable, and there Weeps in a midnight made of her own hair." —Hood, Hero and Leander. "Ever drifting, drifting, drifting, On the shifting Currents of the restless heart— Till at length in books recorded, They like hoarded Household words no more depart." —Longfellow, Seaweed. "Before me rose an avenue Of tall and sombrous pines; And where the sunshine darted through, Spread a vapour, soft and blue, In long and sloping lines." —Longfellow, Prelude. The following form may be looked upon as Burns's exclusively:— "Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower,— Thou'st met me in an evil hour, For I maun crush among the stour Thy slender stem; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonnie gem." —To a Mountain Daisy. THE SEVEN-LINE STANZA. This form is not very common. It may be formed of a quatrain and triplet; of a quatrain, a line rhyming the last of the quatrain, and a couplet; of a quatrain, a couplet, and a line rhyming the fourth line. Or these may be reversed. THE EIGHT-LINE STANZA. This is susceptible of endless variety, commencing with two quatrains, or a six-line stanza and a couplet, or two triplets with a brace of rhyming lines, one after each triplet. "Thus lived—thus died she; nevermore on her Shall sorrow light or shame. She was not made Through years or moons the inner weight to bear, Which colder hearts endure till they are laid By age in earth; her days and pleasures were Brief but delightful; such as had not staid Long with her destiny. But she sleeps well By the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell." —Byron, Don Juan. Of this form the most generally used is the Spenserian, or the following variation of it:— "A little, sorrowful, deserted thing, Begot of love and yet no love begetting; Guiltless of shame, and yet for shame to wring; And too soon banish'd from a mother's petting To churlish nature and the wide world's fretting, For alien pity and unnatural care; Alas! to see how the cold dew kept wetting His childish coats, and dabbled all his hair Like gossamers across his forehead fair." —Hood, Midsummer Fairies. The Spenserian has the same arrangement of the rhymes, but has an extra foot in the last line. The two last lines of a stanza from "Childe Harold" will illustrate this:— "To mingle with the universe and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal." —Byron. The formation of the ten, eleven, twelve, &c., line stanzas is but an adaptation of those already described. A single fourteen-line stanza of a certain arrangement of rhyme is a sonnet, but as the sonnet is scarcely versifiers' work, I will not occupy space by the lengthy explanation it would require. On the same grounds, I am almost inclined to omit discussion of blank verse, but will give a brief summary of its "Of man's first disobedience and the fruit Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our woe." This consists of ten syllables with an accented following an unaccented syllable. It is preserved from monotony by the varying fall of the cÆsura or pause. It occurs but rarely after the first foot or the eighth foot, and not often after the third and seventh. Elisions and the substitution of a trisyllable, equivalent in time for a dissyllable, are met with, and at times the accent is shifted, when by the change the sense of the line gains in vigour of expression, as in— "Once found, which yet unfound, most would have thought Impossible." According to scansion "most wo'uld," but by the throwing back of the accent strengthened and distinguished into "most would have thought." [In addition to this in the blank verse of the stage, we find occasionally additional syllables, as— "Or to take arms against a sea of troub(les)."] Other forms of blank verse follow:— 1. "If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs and dying gales." —Collins, Ode to Evening. At morn, or noon, or eve, so sweet, As when upon the ocean shore I hail'd thy star-beam mild." —Kirke White, Shipwrecked Solitary's Song. 3. "Who at this untimely hour Wanders o'er the desert sands? No station is in view, No palm-grove islanded amidst the waste,— The mother and her child, The widow'd mother and the fatherless boy, They at this untimely hour Wander o'er the desert sands." —Southey, Thalaba. 4. "Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wast not thou born in my father's dwelling? So might we talk of the old familiar faces." —Lamb. 5. "See how he scorns all human arguments So that no oar he wants, nor other sail Than his own wings between so distant shores." —Longfellow, Translation of Dante. 6. "Yet dost thou recall Days departed, half-forgotten, When in dreamy youth I wander'd By the Baltic." —Longfellow, To a Danish Song-Book. 7. "All things in earth and air Bound were by magic spell Never to do him harm; Even the plants and stones, The sacred mistletoe." —Longfellow, Tegner's Drapa. 8. "Give me of your bark, O birch-tree! Of your yellow bark, O birch-tree! Growing by the rushing river, Tall and stately in the valley." —Longfellow, Hiawatha. 9. "Heard he that cry of pain; and through the hush that succeeded Whisper'd a gentle voice, in accents tender and saintlike, 'Gabriel, oh, my beloved!' and died away into silence." —Longfellow, Evangeline. An extremely musical form of blank verse, the trochaic, will be found in Browning's "One Word More":— "I shall never in the years remaining, Paint you pictures, no, nor carve you statues, Make you music that should all-express me; So it seems; I stand on my attainment: This of verse alone one life allows me; Verse and nothing else have I to give you. Other heights in other loves, God willing— All the gifts from all the heights, your own, love!" This by no means exhausts the varieties of blank verse; but, as I have already said, blank verse is, on the whole, scarcely to be commended to the student for practice, because it is, while apparently the easiest, in reality the most difficult form he could attempt. It is in fact particularly easy to attain the blankness—but the verse is another matter. The absence of rhymes necessitates the most perfect melody and harmony, There are, I should mention before closing this chapter, many more styles of stanza than I have named, and many varieties of them. The ode is of somewhat irregular construction, but like the sonnet it is, I consider, beyond the scope of those for whom this book is intended, and it needs not to be discussed on that account. |