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WIDENER LIBRARY

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• PRACTICAL

ENGLISH PROSODY

AND

VERSIFICATION;

DESCRIPTIONS OF TBE

DIFFERENT SPECIES OE ENGLISH VERSE,

WITH

EXERCISES

SCANNING AND VERSIFICATION,

GRADUALLY ACCOMMODATED

to the Tarioas Capacities of Youth at different Ages,

aad calculated to produce Correctness of Ear and Taste

in reading and writing Pottiy ;

the whole interspersed witli occasional Remarks ou

ETYMOLOGY, SYNTAX, AND FRONUNCIATION.

BY JQHN QAREY, LL. D.

PRIVATE TEAClkBR^
Author of" Latin* Froiodtf,** and various other Publications.

A NEW AND IMPROVED EDITION.

LONDON.

PRINTED FOR BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY,

PATERNOSTER-AOW,

Bjf J. Gillct, Crown-court, FlccLstrect,

1816. ^~

/<^M-^%.5'7.3

Pthlicathns hi/ Dr. Cuiiy.

" Kty to Practical English Pfosody and Versification^^ a new
edition.

Latin Prosody^ a new edition, considerably enlarged and im-
proved.

Abridgement a£ " Latin Prosody,*' for the use of Schools.

Scanning Exercises for young Prosodians.

Alphfibetic Kcff to Propria^ qus Marilmsy ScQ,

Skeleton of the Latin Accidence, exhibiting thd whole in one
convenient folding Table.

Learning better than House and Land, a Moral Tale for Youth.

Dryden^s Virgil, rewised and corrected.

(' ^
HARVARD
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

PREFAC

It is not with the view of malbg j\^£t|^^tiL JOO*
etesses^ that I send forth this little l^tfllc:c*.t ^^L, Oil ^^
must be the work of Nature aloue : it is not in my
power to create them ; and, if it were, I might be
accused of doing more harm than good, in tempting
any of my young readers to quit a gainful calling
for the gainless trade*. My aims are more humble —
1. to teach the learner to read poetry with propriety '
and grace; — 2. to improve and polish his style for
prose composition. ^

However unprofitable the writing of poetry (as a
professional occupation) may in general prove, the
reading of it is universally allowed to be far from
unprofitable. It softens and humanises the heart:
it inspires the soul with generous and exalted sen-
timents: it inculcates every virtue with greater
energy and success, than the most labored, the m6st
animated, prose. But it loses much of its eifect,

* Trade, — My profound respect for the inspired sons and
daughters of genius would have forbidden me to apply this
ignoble term to their sublime pursuit, if a great poet had not
himself set me the example—

I left DO calling for this idle trader (Pope.
a

iv Preface.

when dis-harmonised and enfeebled in the recitation,
/by an injudicious mode of utterance ; and this will
ever be the case, when the reader is not thoroughly
acquainted with the metre — HOt aware of what lati-
tude it allows in the changes of feet, and other
poetic licences of diflPerent kinds*. Nor can that
necessary knowledge be so well acquired from pre-
cept alone — often ill understood, and quickly for-
gotten-— as it may be gained by practice. For this
obvious reason, it has been deemed expedient, in all
the chief schools of this and other countries, to train
the young student to Latin versification, for the
purpose, not of making him a Latin poet, but of
qualifying him to relish the beauties of the ancient
poetry, and to improve his style. for prose composi-
tion, And shall* we pay more attention to a dead
laiTguage than to our own? It wei:e a shame if we
did*— a flagrant shame, if, while we carefully culti-
vate the Latin versification, we wholly neglected the
English ; hardly one individual in a thousand ever
feeling any temptation tp write Latin poetry after
he has quitted college; whereas there are very few

• With studied impropriety of speech,
' He soars beyond the hackney critic's reach ;

To epithets allots emphatic state,

While p. hicipals, ungrac'd, like lac«[uey8, wait.......

Conjunction, preposition, adrcrb, join,

To stamp new vigor on the nervous line.

In monosyllables his thunders roil : —

Hey She, It, And, We, Ye, They, fright the soul, (aurchill.

Preface. v

of the thinking part of mankind, who do not^ at some
time or other, find occasion to pen a few verses in
their native language. In such cases, which may
daily and hourly occur, what a pity, that, for want
oF due acquaintance with the technical part of the
business, they should, by the unmetrical rudeness of
their lines, disparage perhaps good ideas, which, in
a more terse and polished form, might command the
reader^s applause! Indeed every person, whether
poet or not, who has received any tolerable educa-
tion, and pretends to write decent prose, ought like-
wise to be qualified for the occasional production of
a few verses, smooth, at least, and metrically correct,
whatever may be their merit or demerit in other re-
spects.

That the practice of versification materially im-
proves the style for prose composition, there cannot
be a doubt. The ear which is acutely sensible to
the harmonies of verse, will naturally revolt against
inharmonious harshness in prose ; and. the pains, be-
stowed in searching for a variety of words of diffe-
rent lengths, quantities, and terminations, to suit the
exigencies of the metre —

• the shifts and turns,

Th' expedients and inventions multiform.
To which the mind resorts in chase of terms,../
T' arrest tlie fleeting images, that fill
The mirror of the min3* —

* Cowper, Task, book 2.

vi Pnfaci.

will copiously enlarge the writer's stock. of exprts-
sions — will euable him to array bis thougbis in iei
more elegant and attractive garb^ and to vary lliat
garb al pleasure, by the ready aid of a diversified
phraseology. It will at the same time produce a
more important and beneficial effect — it will enrich
the intellectual store of thought : (or^ while in search
of ^n epithet, for example, or a peripkrasey he is
obliged to view the subject in all its possiUe bear*
iogs and relations, that he may choose such parti-
cular word or phrase as shall exhibit it in the most
advantageous point of light. And- what study nore
effectual to call into aclion the powers of the mtiid, to
exercise the judgement^ to whet the sagacity, aad
give birth to a variety of ideas, which might other-
wise have Iain for-ever dormant, like those deep-
buried seeds, wbicJi sleep inert and barren in ^
womb of earth, until the hand of Industry banr<
turned them up, to feel the genial influence of the
sun and air*.?

* I have some-wbere read, that earth, turned up from deep
pits, produces plants before unknown in the vicinity. — Hav« tbe
seeds of those plants lain dornjaot in their dark recfsses, from
the time when the general deluge, or some later inundation,
providentiallj overwhelmed the forests of our isle, to preserve
them for remote posterity under the more convenient form of
pit-coal? — That question, if answerable by any other than the
Creator alone, I leave to be ans%vered by those who are better
qualified, than I, to investigate and eiplain the woadroqs opera-
tions of almighty wisdom and pow«r.

Preface. vii

For these weighty ^considerations, the practice of
verse-making has been recommended bjr LocVe,
Chesterfield, Franklin^ &c^ and, although it has not
yet been publicly adopted as a necessary part of an
English education, it is to be hoped that every
teacher who aspires to eminence in the profession,
will henceforward bestow on it that serious attention
which it so evidently deserves. Indeed, from the
opinions which I have heard on the subject, I en-
tertain not a doubt, that those heads of seminaries
who shall make it a regular branch in their syste^m
of instruction, will, in the estimation of all good
judges, gain a decided preference over those who
neglect it*.

Nor is the business a matter of any difficulty, if
the following simple plan be pursued. 1. Let the
learner begin with single lines, which, without any
mixture of alien feet, have all the even syllables re-
gularly accented, and the odd -syllables un-accented ;
and in which the words, barely transposed from their
poetic order, require only metrical arrangement, to
produce the proper feet, which shall stand the test of
scansion. £. Let him have transposed single lines,
containing other feet besides the Iambus. Let him
be directed to murk every such foot in each verse

* I do not say this with the interested view of recommending
my book : for the simple method, which I point out in the en-
suing paragraph, may be pursued by any teacher, without the
assistance of my book, or any otjier publicaiiou of the kind.
a 3

viii 'Pr^ai^t.

that (le h;^s inade, and thus to lay a foundation for
correQt and elegant reading ; l)eing taught, of course^
in x^poatin^ \i\% lines^ to giye no emphasis to un-ac-
cented syllables^ but to lay thecbief atressof atter-
ance on those which are accented — and carefully to
observe the caesura, with its attendant pause*. 3. Iiet
him hare distichs, in which the Y^ords of the two
lines are blended together. 4. When his ear is well
attuned to metre — when he thoroughly understands
dl the admissible variations of the jeet^ and has suf«
ficiehtly accustomed aud reconciled his idea3 to those
frequent deviations from ^he natural ord^r of j&yntasr^
produced by the poetic inversi^s of style — let hun
undertake single lines^ and afterwards blended distiches,
in which, besides the derangement of the words, the
teacher has suppressed one or more eipilhtU^y to be
supplied by the pupil ; as, for example, the following
distich —

Hear, how the birds, on evVy bloomy spray.
With joyous music wake the dawning day —

may thus be given for an exercise —

Hear, how, on ev'ry ^'prayy the birds
Wake the day with mmic —

care being taken to point out the particular words
which require epithets. 5. At a more advanced
stage of the pupil's progress, besides the derange-

■ , ,, ^ . — ■ J.I

♦ See page 66.

t See the notie in page 177.

Preface. ix

fnent of words, ^d the sup^s^ioa of epithets, let
on occa»iaaaI word or phrase he altered ; and, in lieu
of the OMT word or phrase iDtrodncedi let Ihe papil
be diro^ted to s^bstitute a word or phrase of hU own,
•either &;nopyinous, or in some degree equivalent, as
?^to exemplify again in the same distieh---

Hear, how, on every bush, the birds
Wake the day with tnuHc.

Some of my readers may perhaps be surprised that
I hare not made nonseme 'oerses a preliminary part of
my plan. Of that expedient, or of another practice
which usually follows it in our British systein of
education**- 1 meaa tbe practice of ufritif^ themes —
it would ill become me to s{}eak with disrespect^
^inoe both nave long enjoyed the sanction of so many
teachers in this oountry. I hope, nevertheless, that I
may, without off(?nce to any person, be allowed to state
a simple, but Important fact, which is well entitled to
s^frious consideration . In some b ighly and j ustly cele-
brated schools on the continent, where the delicate and
difficult art of education has been carefully studied
and sysieimticaily cultivated, both the nonsense verses
and the themes (though calculated to save trouble to
the preceptor) have long since been exploded, as less
useful, less efficacious, than other methods, which at
once prove more simple, easy, and pleasant to the
learner, and are found perfectly to anBwer tbe de-
sired purpose in each respective case. With all due
deference, therefore/ to the advocates of nonsense

X ' Preface.

verses and theme-writing, I must take the liberty of
saying, that, when I consider the simplicity, the
iltility, arid the success of the continental methods^ I
can-not with-hold from them my approbation, though
I am far from presiiming to censure the practice of
those teachers who differ from me in opinion, and
who still continue to follow the old modes. — But, to
^eturD^ to my subject —

The mode, above proposed, is perfectly easy and
simple: it is the mode in which I myself was taught
Latin versification in my youth, and have since taught
it to others. From my experience of the pleasant-
ness'^and efficacy of the method in Latin, I thought
I could not do hfetter than adopt the ^me in English ;
atid, accordingly, such is the plan that J have pur-
sued both in private practice, and in the versificatory
Exercises which here follow the Prosody */^ Easy as
the first of those Exercises are, I have studied to
render the task still more easy, by premising near
thirty pages of Scanning Exercises, that the learner's
ear may be formed to the metre, and he may under-
stand the poetic licences in the different variations of
feet, before he attempt to make a single verse.

In tlie Exercises, *in consequence of niy necessary
transposition of the original words, the reader will
find occasional instances of harsh or ambiguous
phraseology — sometimes perhaps an aukward auti-

* And on f% plan as nearly? similar as t!)e diSerence of the two
languages will allow, I am preparing for the press " Exercises
in Latin Versification.*

Prtface. xi

d&nav^ or other yiolation of the rules of efegaat
writii^ : bat it is to be reoiembered that these Ex-
ercises Are n^t given as models of style: tbey are
ooly the rwde saaterials, from wbicb| by a new and
belter axrangeaient^ the young student is to produce
more polished and haimonious lines ; and those de-
fects were absolutely unravoidable, unless I had fas-
tidiously determined to reject every verse, however
elegant in its poetic form, which should not appear
equally degant when deranged into prose. To have
indulged in that over-nice delicacy of selectiop, al-
though it would have muItipUed my labor ten or
iwenty fold, could not have benefited the student,
who^ wh^ onoe apprised of the nature ao4 design
of those transpositions, incurs no greater danger of
having his taste eorrupled by the», than the youpg
' gtwunarian iBears from tbf exercises in bad English,
«hi^h ace everywhere put into his hands to be cor-
xecied.

With .respect to the pupiPs performance in the
latter stages of his progress, where he has to furnish
^^pilh^ts, to alter terms^ aod supply poetic peri-
phrases, it canaot be expected that he shall always
give the same words which appear in the original
lines. Every object is capable of being viewed in
various points of light ; and, according to the light
in which he views it, he will characterise it by an
epithet, or describe it by a term or phrase, which,
though it happen to differ from that in the " KEY,*'
miiy be equally good and commendable i or^ if gifted

xii • Preface, ^

with a poetic genius, he may, in some oases, surpass
^ the original. And here the teacher will have an op-
portunity of exercising his own judgement, guiding
that of the pupil, developing, appreciating, and im-
, proving his talents; and forming his youthful taste
on principles of sound criticism.

In my selection of examples for exercise, I have
labored under a very aukwai;d and unpleasant diffi-
culty, more particularly in the first half of the book,
where the words are barely displaced from their
metrical arrangement in the verse. I have fre-
iquently been compelled to omit the very best lines of
a passage, because I could not satisfactorily transpose
the language from the order in which I found it ;
and it would have been useless to the end which F had
in view, to present the pupil with ready-made verses,
which he could only transcribe. And, although, in
some few instances, I have, for the sake of preserving
the continuity of a piece, admitted a ready-madie
distich, it is what I do not myself approve, and
would, as far as possible, wish to avoid; the object
of this publication being, not to produce a selection
of the best poetry, but a selection of poetry best
calculated to instruct and exercise the learner in ver-
sification.

Respecting the sources from which I have derived
those examples, I am sorry that I cannot, by affixing
to each piece the writer's name, gratify that' very
natural wish, felt by every reader, to know the
author of what he reads. A compliance with that

Preface, xiii

wish was impossible, for two reasons — 1. Many of
the pieces, from which I have made extracts, are
anonymous. 2. It would have been treating an
author v6ry unfairly, to give, under bis name, a
garbled extract of a few lines, when (for the reason
above mentioned) I had omitted some verses imme-
diately connected with them, which are perhaps far
superior to those that I quote, and without whicb^
the passage must necessarily appear to very great
disadvantage. Any author, whom I had thus mis-
represented, would, I presume, be far from pleased
with me for taking such unjustifiable liberty with
his writings and his name. So at least J judge from
my own feelings: for, although I have occasionally
inserted some extracts from poetic trifles of my own,
I should be very unwilling to set my nsime to them
in that mutilated condition.

But some authors may perhaps be offended with
me upon a different ground. They may fancy that
they see their verses aUered in my pages, and con-
demn me for having taken the liberty of making the
supposed alterations. I beg leave to remove that
mistaken idea. I do not presume to alter or amend
any man's lines: 1 do not arrogate to mys/elf that
superiority of taste and judgement which is requisite
to any person undertaking the invidious task ; nor
have I a sufficiency of leisure time to bestow on the
thankless employment. The case is simply this — If
a line from one author, and a line from another, to-
gether made a distich better calculated for an exer-

x\r Preface.

else than either poet's lines could separately furnish,
I made no scruple to unite tbem : and, if a line and
half, or a line and three quarters, suited my purpose,
— in borrowing so much from one writer, I held
myself equally at liberty to take from another, or to
supply from my own stock, a half or quarter line to
complete the distich, without meaning to pass any
censure on what I did not think it necessary to
borrow*. Had I not thus acted, I should, on many
occasions, have been forced to omit a good couplet,
from the circumstance of its not making complete
sense, when detached from the context ; whereas, by
taking only a part of the original couplet, and sup-
plying a word or two from another source, I obtained
what I wanted.

It remains to say a few words relative to the marking
of the feet in the KEY.— I have thought it wholly
superfluous to mark the regular and principal feet,
which every child can discover^j and have confined
ray marks to poetic licences in the introduction of
the alien or auxiliary feet, which are thus rendered
more conspicuous. If, in doing this, I have perhaps,
through haste or oversight, occasionally suffered- a
foot to pass, otherwise marked than a censorious
cntic might wish, I am willing to hope that such ^
deviations are neither very numerous, nor likely to be

* Whoever will take cbe trouble of making the experiment , •
will find that he may often read many hundred lines, without
gleaning a single distich, in every respect fit to be given as a«
eiercise in versification.

Preface. XT

atteaded with any ill consequences to the youthful
leader^ as they will probably occur only in a few
cases, which may fairly admit a difference of opinion,
and where, though one person may condemn, ant-
other will approve. And^ with respect to such cases
as Many a, Vir^iiotis, Happier, &c. — in which some
prosodians would make dactyls or anapaests, but /
would make dissyllabic feet by the aid of synaeresis
— I have sometimes marked such combinations as
two syllabks, sQjnetimes as one ; not choosing^ by an
invariable observance of the one or the other mode,
either to force my own opinion upo& the reader, or
to give my unqualified sanction to a doctrine which
I disapprove; and thus leaving hi(n an opportunity of
exercising his own judgement on a point in which he
will perceive that I have not scrupulously studied uni-
formity, though I have clearly enough expressed my
sentiments on the subject in page 50 of the Prosody,
to which i refer him. Neither have I deemed it
necessary to be very particular in ahva^'s marking a
Pjrrhic at the close of tlie line, where the final pause
and emphasis will render such foot almost an Iambus.
Though 1 have, m some places, marked such feet,,
that I might not appear to have entirely overlookeJ
that licence, I have perhaps as often left them un-
marked; not thinking it of any consequence whether
they were marked or not, as the youngest reader c.ta
easily dibcover a Pyrrhic in tliat station, v\iliK)ut
having it pointed oat to him«

xfi Prrfact.

I now coticlude with a re()oe!St^ that, as this is (I
believe) the first attempt which has yet beea pubiiciy
imde to introduce English versification into o«r
school system *— and as absolute perfection cannot
reaswiably be expected in firstattemptaof any kind —
the publie will indulgcBtly excoSfe whatever imper-
fections may be found to blemish my pages^ and will
give ite credit for zes^l at least, if not for complete
success in the outset of my undertaking.

Of this new Edition, 1 shall only say, that I have
taken pains to improve my work, and hope it will
enjoy a continuance of that approbation which was
bestowed on it by the readers of the former wy
limited impresssion.

Map 10, 1816. J. CAREY.

t3r> Additioa to the remtrk on Grttoen, Grown, &e. in page 6.

To a similar Byiicopc we are indebted for the word Own, in
the phrases, « My ozon/^ « Tour own,'' &c. which (theugh
considered by some grammarians as an adjective, and, in some
dictionaries, most un-accountaWy marked as a tubsUntive I) is,
in reality, the contracted preterite participle of the verb Owe,
\\t, Otoen, Ow% which, in other phrases, is still universally
soanded as two distinct syllables, though improperly pronounced
Onfingj as the plural Shippen is corrupted to Shipping ; ex. gr.
" It is owing [instead of owen] to yon, that this hapfcni"—
" There is money owing'* [inHead of owen,]

CONTENTS.

Qaantitir-*Aeceiit'^Verse,j3i. 1

Metre — Scanoiog — R1iime» 2

HypermeterVeraes— Caesuffly 3

PoeireFeet»4

Elisioas'- Aphferesis —Synco-
pe — Apocope, 6

SynttresiS) 7, 54

Diaeresis,

Verses — how termiDatecf, 12

Their Classes, 13

Iambic Verses, 14. — Ballad
Measure, 18. — Alexan-
drine, 21. — Hudibrastic, 23
— Anacreontic, 24, 30

Trochaic Verses, 25

Anapsestic Verses, 32. — Ain-
steian, 34

Miztore of Feet in the Iambic
Metre, 37

The Cttsnra, 56

Hint on Song-writing, W>
Exercises tn Scanning,

Pare Iambics, 63, 70

Iambics, with examples of Syn-
seresis» 7d> 75

Iambics, with a Mixture of dif-
ftrerii Feet^ 76^ 83

Exercises in VersiJtcuHm^

Pure Iambics to be made, 91,

112
Iambics, with a Mixtare of dif-
ferent Feet, 115
Iambics, with examples of Syn-

aeresis, 134
Iambic stanzas of different

kinds^ 136.....145
Paragraphs of two verses
blended together, 153^...176
Iambics, to have £pithet»

added, 177 192

Iambics, with Words to be

altered, 196.....214
Iambics requiring both the AI^

deration of Words, and the

Addition of Epithets, 209^

..,..221
Trochaic Verses to be scanned,

222
Trochaics to be made, 223

230

Anapaestic Verses to be scanned,

230
Anapaestics to be made^ 233
Blank Verse, 242

CONTENTS — PART 11.

Mi$cellaneous Subjects treated in the Nates.

Acrostich, page 2

Greek and Latim Quantitj, 4,
49

Spirit, Sp*nt, 6

GroweD, Oweo, 6, xyi.

XXiphthong — Two saccessiYe
Aspirations, 7

The UI in Puissant, &c. 10

Mute E formerly souuded, 10

Words of doable Termina-
tion, 11

English Dactylic Verses, 13

Aukward modern Imitations of
ancient Metre, 15

The French Alexandrine, 21

Anacreontic Measure — Miscon-
ception respecting it, 30

Prndarics, 30

Martial Metre— The Poet Tyr-
tens, 33

Exceeding fair-^Passing rich,
88

Poetic Licences of the An-
cients, 39, 50,56

The Genitive £S — Queen
Besses chin, 44

Ma^ny a ...•, 52

Never so rich — not Ever so, 64

Lesser and Worser, 67

Mistakes, not Mistaking, 68

The EU in Orpheus, fcc. 112

Had rather — I were^ 116
Booby — whence derived, 117
Satellites, 118
Tauris, net Taurida, 120
Italian Derivations, 121
Practitioner, improper, 122
Patroclos, Damode8,&c. — how

accented, 125, 129
Effect of Mute and Liquid in

Greek and Latin, 126
ApAme, Aptoga, 128
Folk« not Folks, 12S
Androcles or Androclus, 129
Adjectives in ACEOUS and
ACIOUS, materially dif-
ferent in signification,. 130
Aloe„ how pronounced, 134 -
Epithet — Meaning and Use of

the terra, 177
Solecism in Pope^s Homer, 181
Ad|.ectives elegantly substitu-^

ted for Adverbs, 185
Thou and Yoa — Change of

Number improper, 195
Rapt, not Wrapped, 199
Hyphen — Where to be inserted

or omitted, 199
Bom, and Borne^ 220
. Robinson €k-usoe, 2S2
The Y a distinct syllable in
Greek.names, 240

PROSODY.

Prosody teaches the proper quantity and ^accent
of syllables and words^ and the measures of verses. *

Quantity, in prosody, means the length of sylla*
bles in pronunciation — that is to say> the length of
time necessary. for the proper utterance of each syK
lable;

Some syllables are long,. as Note, Hate, Neat:
others are short, as Not^ Hat, Net: but the quantity
or length of syllables is little regarded in English
poetry, which is entirely regulated by their number
and accent.

Accent is the emphatic tone with which some one
syllable of a word is more forcibly sounded than the
other syllable or syllables; as, in the words L^i)e/y,
Loveliness, Beauty, Beautiful, the first syllable of each
is accented; and, in Adbre, AUne, liematn, theacceot
is laid on the final syllable.

A verse is a single line of poetry,

A hemktich is a half verse *.

'* In strict propriety » it means &q exact half verse : bot, in the
Greek and Latin prosodies, whence the term is borrowed, it is

i Prosody.

A dMch,. or coupktj is two verses; »nA the name
is generally applied to two verses comprimag a com*
plete sentence.

A sianisa (called likewise a stave) is a combination
of several verses^ wholly dependent on 4i3e poet's
wilt, with respect to nHmber> metre, and rhime, and
forming a regular portion 6r divtsioii of a song, or
other poem.^

Metre is the measure by which verses are com-
posed, and by which they are divided in seanning ;
wd, in English poetry,, this measure consists in the
number of the syllables, and the position of the ac*
\Vi9nts.

To scan * a verse is to divide it into its component
parts, or feet.

Rhime is a similarity and agreement of sound ift

also applied to a portion of a verse eiceeding or falling short of
the half, by one half foot. — ^The word HemUtkhy and likewise
TetratHck and AcroUick, being sometimes erroneously written
with CKf merely in consequence of a typographic error in John-
son's Dictionary, I wish my young readers to observe, diat
the former three, derived from the same Greek source with Di^
stkhf ought, like it^ to terminate with Cfi, pronounced, of coarse,
hardy as in £pocA, Siomaeh, Anthch, — Having incidentally
mentioned the Acro$tichf let me add to Dr. Johnson's definition
of it, that die acrostich law extends to the Jinal^ as well as the
initial, letter of each verse ; there being still extant some ancient
trifles of that description, in which the same words are acro-
sttchally disphiyed at both extremities of the lines.
. * Originally, to sconi^ ftom the Latin seofufo (to elia^) th«
iehii«sed for this proocts by the anoieni Latin gnunmariaaSk

final 8j)litbl«8, 89 adoff, dep2oi^y^-OV^4iWifc iiitif*
jBOce, la xegaiu verves, it iiicludes oQ]y ^^ »yl<*
lable^ as

Ye nymphs of Soljma, b^a tN •B^Hg!
To heav'fiiy themes sobiioier ^traios beiliM^.

(Pope,
te hgfpenmter or i>eduiid«at ^^s^9f Le. yers^ ex-
ceeding the regular measure^ it extendfi to twoi tbe
peoultiinate accented, the pther t)ot> as
For what has Virro |)(|ii^ed, biuttj 9Xk^plmt^\'ei^
Only to show how many tastes he watU'Vtdr. (Pope«
aii4 io careless burlesque versificationj as that of.
Swift and Butlerj we sometimes find redundant Unes '
viA .a tripUoate jhioieg^the accent falling on the
astepeBnltknatie, which termioAtes the regular mea*^
sute^ and no accent on either of the two stfpemiime-
rary syllables, as

Uniting aU> to show their S-l-mt^j^,
As in a general ca/a-l-7)|^j^ *. (Swift,
but 9»ch tfiplicaie rbime is wholly inadmUmible in
any verse which at all aspires to die praise of dignity
or harmony.
Blank verse is verse without rhime.
The Casura (which means a cut or divisi<m) is the
separation, or pausCj which takes place in the body
of a verse in the ntterance-^ividing the liQe, as it
were, into two members : and, in difletent species of

* Tli«8€ weieoot inteB^ed for rq^^Ur ten-^lUbl^ lines: tky
piece from which thej an quoced, is in eight^^llable verse.

vin-se, or different verses of the same species, tbis
pause occurs in different parts of the line, as, for ex-
ample —

How empty learningy^jl ^^^ how vain is art,
But as it mends the Hfei^|| and guides the heart !
Poetic Feet.
Afoot is a part of a verse, and consists of two or
three syllables.

A semifoot is a half-foot.

The feet, chiefly used in EpgHsh poetry^ are the
following *—

* The names, here given to the fecit and verses, are ncN, ia
itritt propriety, applicable to English versification. In the
Greek and Latin languages, from Which the]f are borrowed, they
have no reference to decent; the feet being thei-e solely deter-
mined by the quantity^ or length of syllables, and consisting-—
the Iambus, of one short syllable, and one long; — the Trochee,
ot oae long and one short ; — the Spondee, of two long ;— the
FyrrhiCf of two short ; — the Anapast, of two short and one long ;
—the JDactyl, of one long and two short; — the Tribrachi/i, of
three short;—* and the Amphibra$hys, of otie long between two
short. — However, as these Greek and Roman names of feet timi
verses have (with the substitution of English accent for Greek
and Latin quantity) been applied to. English versification by
other writers before roe, and as they are convenient terms to
save circumlocution/I have deemed it expedient to adopt them
after the example of my predecessors, and to apply to our ac«
cented. and un-aceented syllables the marks generally employed
to indicate long and short syllables in the Greek and Latin pros-
odies ; as^ foF example, the marks, thus applied to the Gre«k .
JPegasbs, or the Latin Peg^sUs, signify that the first syllable

The /amte**? consisting of two syllables, the first
un-acceoted^ and the latter accented, as a^opc, M«
Kind.

The Trochee, of two syllables, the first acoented^
the Tatter un-a(5ceiited, as hoi^,thum^.

The Spondee, of two syllable, both accented, as
tt<lly cKirge in the fbllowing Kne —
Why charge I we heav'n in those, in these acquit i

(Pope.

The Pyrrifc, of two un-accented, as 48 t6 in the
following verse—
A choice collection I what \t8t(i\he dooef (YoQog»

The Anapastf of two nn-accented, and one ac4
cented, es each of the four feet in the following linc^-
at the close 1 of the day^ \ when the ham-l-let h Btilf.i.

(Bcattie.

The Dadyl, of one accented^ and two ua-acoeiiledi
as holiness^ thundaing.

of that animal's oanie is long» ami the btfaer two short;
whereas, ia En^isb prosody, the same marks are to he ander-
stood as simply meaning, that the first syllable io PegiftUt is
accented, and the- other two un-accented^ This obsenratioa
applies to every other case.

* This foot is soaethnes improperly sailed an Iambic ; which
IS equally wrong, as Co say a Boyish or a Girluh, for a Boy or a
GirL — Jamhui^ Trochee, Anapit^^ he, are the sobstantive names
of the feet themselves : but J^unhk, TroektHe, Anapattic, &e. are
adjectives, solely applicable to the mecte, verse, or peem,.co»>
sistiDg of such feet»

6 ProBO€fy.

The TriirachySp of thre^ un-accebtcd, as -ritual \n
the word S^xritudl.

The Amphibrachys, of one accented^ between two
UQ-acceated^ as removal coeval.

Elmon. — Synareds. — DieresU^
. la our versificatioD^ we have vejry frequent exam-
ples of elision and ^yiurmu— none^ ot very few, of
diarisis.

. Elision is of three kinds^ viz.
> 1. jipharesis^ which cuts off the initial letter or
sjr liable of a word, as 'squire, ^gainst^ *§««, for esquire,
against, began^

2. Syncopl*, which strikes out a letter or syllable
from the body of a word, as sp*rii f for spirit — lov'd,
tkund'ring, laVrer, for loved, thundering, laborer —
se'fwight for sevennight.

* The use of syncope is not conBned to verse : in prose also,
numberless instances of it occur, as don't for do noi^wond*rou$
for wonderous — hast, hath, for the obsolete Kavest, haveth —
gro»n, sown, for the antique growen, sowen—'midst, for middtst,
an old superlative from mid, &c. Sec.

Right in the mldd^st of that paradise.

There stood a stately mount .(Spencer.

The barren ground was full of wicked weeds,
Which she herself )iad tow)in all about,

Now growt&n grea^, at first of little seeds. (Spencer.

t Converted, by the addition of £ to lengthen the sound, into
Sprite, which, together with Sprightly, proves that the syacope
took place in the ^r5^ syllable, and that the syncopated word
was intended to be Sp*rit, rhiming with Grit, not Spif^t, rhiming

Prosody. 7

S, Jpocopi, which cuts off a final vowel or syl-
lable, or one or more letters, as Gi* for give, Fro^ for
from J O' for of, TK evening for the evening, Philomel
for Philomela.

Synaresis is the contraciioD of two syllables into
one, by rapidly pronouncing, in one syllable, two or
more vowels which properly belong to separate syl-
lables, as ^£ in Israel, IE in Alienate, ££ in E^en
and E'er, 10 in Nation r for, though the 10, in 'such
terminations, be usually accounted a diphthong*,

with Squirt, as I have seen it printed io the following line of
Milton, Par. L. 5, STT—

O alienate from God ! O spirit accurst !
* DipAMong.— Some late writers have directed us to pro-
nounce this vord as Diptkong, &nd some have even adopted that
mode of spelling it ; i)ecause, as one of them observes, ** two
aspirations in succession are disagneable to an Enflnb ear.''
This may be partly true in some cases, on account of the ac-
companying consonants, as " worth their while," " bo^A those
men," " comc.for*/* thence :" but, in " worM Ais while,'* " hath
Ais eyes/' " he led forth Ais army," the double aspiration will, I
believe, be found more easy to the tongue, and more grateful
to the ear, than the single one in " worth is esteemed,'* " the
merit ofbofA t5 eqtial," "the Forth is a Scottish river;" the
continued aspiration more softly blending and combining the.
syllables in " worf A Ais," " botA Ais," " for^A Ais,'' without lea-
ving that disagreeable chasm, or requiring that effort of the voice,
which necessarily attend the utteranire of *' wor^A is," " bo^A is,"
ToTth is." But, to return to PHTH, let us see how the doctrine
of the double aspiration applies to it. That the Greek consonant,
which we render by FH, was an aspirated P, is certain ; and that,

8 Pf o«(w^.

and r/ON", of course, a sittgle syllable, yet, in strict

propriety, TI-ON are two distinct syllables ; and

instead of writing, as we do, $top him, up hilly kept him, a Greek
would have written stoph him, uph hilly kephth him^ How he
pronounced the P thus asfM rated, is of no consequence to iirr
b«t, in wtr pronunciation, the Greek P^ and the English J* are
wnniled so exactly alike, that any objection, which Ues against
the PBt wUl bear with equal force against F. Now I sabmit to
any of my readers, young or old, whether, in the following com-
binations with THy the F (or its equivalent G H) be not in reality
much less difficult to the tongue, and less grating to the ear,
than P— .Charles ih^jifth, Charles the JJplA— a tou^A thong,
tup fAong — a sti/f Morn, slip thorn — a rough tAimble, mp Mimbie
—the grn^ (Jkunderer, grop f*underer — you have not enough
^oi^ht on it, enup Mought— put of their clothes, op Meir— a
whWHtArough a pipe, whip ^Arough— q«a^ *Aick beer, quap thick
«^acou^fc iJlffeatens a consumption, cop Mseatens — i/TAeodore's
wife fMaks, ip 21eodore*« wip« ^*inks. In all these examples, I
coafidentty anticipate the unanimous vote of my readers in favor
of P: and so far indeed is the English ear or tongue from being
shocked or embarrassed by the sound of 1* before TH, that the
vulgar (whom one of the advocates of Diptkong hohis up to us
as « no contemptihk guides" in pronunciation) are often heard to
aspirate the T, in after, laughter, left her, pronouncing afther,
kfiher, Ufth her ; to which may be added the Yorkshire " thruj"
the mrld,"' for « through the world:* Hence it would appear^
that the harsh and irregular dipihong did not originate from any
fepugnance of the English tongue or ear to the more smooth and
regular difthong, but from some other cause— very probably
ftom the ignorance of some of those village dames of former days
vhe kkittated children in spelling— and who, not knowing the
power of the H added to P, taught the youngKngs to convert

Prosody. 9

the same remark applies to Dubious, Duteous, Plen*
teous, Warrior, 8cc. Besides these^ and similar e%-
ampies of synaeresisi which take place ia prose^ the
licence is carried further in poetry, where we find
Virtuous, Arduous, Gradual, Patriot, used as dissyl-
lables, with many others which will occur in the
following \)ages.

Diarists is the division of one syllable into two, as
when Puissant, Puissance^ which are properly di»-

Seraph into Syrup, A nymph into An imp. Pheasant into Pea-'
iant, Diphthong into Dipthong, &c.— From them the corrupt
tion jspread among the lower class of the commonity, until
at length their example was held up for the imitation of their
betters, as a late writer has seriously recommended to us to
adopt their Sparrow-grass instead of Asparagus, If the natural
order of things is to be thus inverted-*-if the vulgar, instead of
learning from their superiors, are to become U>eir models and.
their teachers— then let Sphinx also be altered to Spink, which
I suppose to be the prevalent prommciation among the private
soldiers of his majesty's foot guards; for so I have heard the
word very distii^ctly pronounced by one of them, who wfis ex«.
plaining to the bystanders the ornaments on the carriage of the
Egyptian gun in St. James's Park. I hope, however, that none
of my young readers will ever adopt either Spink, Spur row-graiip
or Dtp^Aong, but invariably pronounce PH as F, whertver they
can so pronounce it ; which they ultoays can do in the body of a
word, ae Diphthongs Naphtha^ Ophthalmia, &c. There may
in<|eed be some eicuse for not so pronouncing it before TH, at
the beginning of words, ^& Phthisis, Phthia, PA^Ai'rtflm, because
it i» there thought to be difficult of.pronpnciation ; though, for
ray part, I see no difficulty in it, if custom would only allow us.
to utter these words with the sound of FTU,

JO Prosody.

syUabics^ are (by a licence hardly allowable even m
poetry) toxnuAe A pu^isuiut^ pu-issanee"*, as in SoQfu»« ^
▼ille's HobbiDol,3, 131— '^

, ; ...Tboagh great the force

Of this purismnt arm, as all mast own —

* In tbQ origJQsl Frenchi the VI of Fui$SMnt and PtcifMitce
(as is well knowa to all who pronounce that language with pro^
|»'iety) IS an inseparable diphthong, though very difficult of ufi>
terance to those who have not) in early youth^ enjoyed good
opporumiti^i of atquiriqg 4ie genuifie French pronunciatioflu
Witnesff ^ broad W in our Sfmet, instead of the tliio delicate
Fiencb V\n tbeori^al {lliii«-:aiid the words Suite^ CuUsc^ and
CkiraH, which ev^n our pfoaoMciag dielioiuirief pervert into
8tif€0tf Qf*mt mHhm''ai$i by whioh pronvnciatiooy the tru«
lowid of the FrBAcb dipbtkiong is destroyed-^Bet, nolwitb*
standing lihe dtfiodty «f AitteHMOe, Milto^^^ qsed 4be word as
adss^ltaMe ^

Ompp^Uamue is our eirti < wx own right hand... (P. L, ^, 964*
•^His puiimnetf trusting tfi A' Almighty's aid».^ (fit 1 X9*
ttekeepear also hat Miployod it as a dissyllablei io his
Htnry V.-r-

Guarded by gra^diifieSf babieSt and old wpmtaf
Or past or not arrid^ed al pith and p$isiMnc0^
the latter being, net an AlesumdriDe of NX feetj but a common
five^foot Iambic with a redimdaiil ua-accented syllable al the
end» like the verse imoiedifttely preceding it, and ten thousand
Others every-whete occurring, more particularly in dramatic
poetry. Spencer, too, (F.^. 1*) has the ptcts* in this word a
single syllable*-

To prove his ptctsssnc^ in battle bravo'^
tbt faal JE, with its oonaaoant, being sounded a» a sepnrnte
syllable; a practice very fis^aoiit with Sfheacer and pur other

Ft090ify. It

Bat it were utterly wrong ta shelter under this title
the very improper division of the diphthong EU, in
Orpheui, and many other Greek names of similar ter-
minatiou--a division, unsanctioned by our poets^and
justly reprobated by cl^ical scholars, for reasons
which will be found ixi a note to No. S4f8 of the fol-
lowing Exercises.

■ ■ !■« I.. . I |fc [t • . ■ I M IM ■ .1.-. . ■

earlj bards, who, ia that papticalar, imitated the eiani|)le of the
IVench poets, but with this difference, that, in. French, ereo to
the present day, the final un-accented £» though route in prose,
muii necessarily be accounted a syllable m verse, unless drded
by«kVow«lmiaEiediately following: e.gr.

Je chan^l le b6ros qui reg6a sur la Fmn0»,
£t par droit de oonquc^ tt par droit de aaissaacef-*
whereas, in English poetry, it was optional with (he writer either
to leave it mute, or to make it sound in a separate syllable, as
Spencer has here done — pronouncing it, I presume, neariy like
puu-^an-cy; for we can still catch a last dying echo of the
antique pronunciation in the werda £^^^v<;i3f, Slavtpyp Fk^ety,
Nicety^ Roguery^r*-to say noHfaiug ef f&indmorky Jfmndicraflj
and the i^ulgar Wwkyday^ which Were originally Umde^mark^
Hande<rqfi, Worke^day, i. e, in modern orthography, Ha^d-
mork, Hand-<rafty Work-day. From the licence of thus arbi-
trarily sounding or not sounding the linarE, seems to have arisen
that very convenient ^pllcity of termination (ANCE, ANCT
-^ENCEjENCY) which our language lias allowed to a pretty
I class of words adopted from the. French, as Jfti^iu^-
c, Repv^Manctff Indulgence^ Indulgency; though, as most
of those fK>rds were originally borrpwed from the Latin, which
terminates them in ANTIA and ENTlAy if any person choose
to maintain that we took ANCY jBtnd ENCY from the Latin,
AifCE and ENCE from the French, I am not dwpo^ed to
^mfvaL with bioi »a that account.

n Prmodif.

Verses.
* JSre/y species of English verse, of whatever deno-
mination, regularly terminates with an accetited syl-
lable : but every species, witfaom exception, admits,
at the end, an additiohal nn-accented syllable, pro-
ducing (if it be rhimed verse) a double rhime, that is
to say, a rhime extending to two syllables, as

Beauty I Pursuing I Resounded

Duty^ I Renewing j Confounded —

and this additional syllable does not at all affect the
measure or rhythm of the preceding part of the verse,
which remains precisely the same as if the supernu-
merary syllable were not added. But, in all such
cases, it is indispensably necessary that the rhime
should thus begin on the penultimate accented syl-
lable^ which receives so great a stress of pronuncia*
tion : otherwise, there would, in fact, be no rhime at
all, as Party f for example, could not be said to rhime
with Beauty, nor Retreating with Pursuitig^ though
the 4n^I syllables are, in both cases, the same. *

A verse, of whatever kind, thus lengthened with ^
redundant syllable, is called hypernieter (which li-
terally signifies over-measure, or exceeding the due
measure).

- In our blank heroic verse, this addition to the
metre frequently renders a very important and ad-
vantageous service, in producing a soft easy cadence
at the close of a long period, where the hypermeter
verse stands single: but, in our rhimed Iambic di-
stichs, of whatever measure, the hypermeter (ueccs-

Prosody. 13

sftril/ coupled in pairs) is. liltlq« adapted to solemn,
graiid, or lofty thatnes; it geuerally gives to the cou-
plet a c^t of levity aad.gjppf^ncy, better suited \o^
light compositions on more familiar subjects '*. [In the
Trochaic verse^ bn^ the .other band, it produces a
very happy and pleasi{ig effect: in that light,
sprightly, dancing metre, it is perfectly in character;' ♦
the duplicate rjjime — or, to speak more correctjy,!
tlie supernumerary un-accepted syllable, indepen**.
dent of the rhime — improving its natural lightness
and sprightliness.

English verses may be divided into three classes,
and, from. the feet of which they. principally consist,
may be denomipated Iambic, Trochaic^ and Anc^^
pastic t- !

♦ Mrs Barbauld, however, has not unhappily employed
double-rhimed Iambics in some of her Hymns. ' -

t It might Ije thought improper to pass, wholly unnoticed, a
fourth species"— the Dactylic — of which Mr. Murray obierVes,'
that it is *^ tery uncommon :*\ and indeed he has not quoted any
admissible example oi' such metre ; for, as to that which lie ad"
daces, thus marked with tlie appear&nce of three dactyls —

From th^ IfSto pleasures bf this fallen natUre-^ .*
I cannot discover in it even one" rca/ dactyU — If the fault b^
mine, I am sorry for it j but I have been taught (whether right or
wrong, I leave to better scholars than myself to determine)
that, in scanrting verse, whether Greek, Latin, or English, we are
■ot allowed arbitrarily to eonnect or disjoin syllables, with the
view of producing whatever kind and number of feet we choose;
much less to alter, at our pleasure, the accent or quantity of syl-'
lables for that purpose, as in From, Low, and Fall, in the exam-

1^ Prosaefy.

^ Iambic Verses.

Pure Iambic verses contain no other foot tfasa
the Iambus, and are uniformly accented on t1ie)M»

pie above quoted ; but that each foot must independently stand
OB its own ground, without any violation of accent or quantity ;
and that we must produce the due number of feet, whatever
those feet may be : otherwise there would be »n end of all metre;
and no reader coukl tell the difference between verse and prose.
The observance of those rules, of which I never have heard the
propriety disputed, compels me, however reluctant, to diffier
from Mr. Murray, and to scan the verse as follows — „

Frttro th« | low plea-|-siires ftf | this fall-I-gn na-||-ttire—
making it a five-foot Iambic, with a redundant syllable at the
end, as is common in every kind of English metre, without ex"»
oeption. And, with respect to the iueasure of the five feet (est**
dttiive of the odd syllable), it is only such asjnay often be found
io our five-foot Iambics, as in the following examples, which
have' the words From the rich, and Treasures of, in exactly the
same positions, and to be of course accented and scanned in the
•ame manner, as. From the low and Pleasures of in the verse
above —

Fr}hn tK^ \ itch store \ one fruitful urn supplies.
Whole kingdoms smile, a thousand harvests rise. (Goldanith.
...Extols I the trea-\'^res )if \ his stormy seas,
iLnd his long nights of revelry and ease. (Goldsmith.
On the subject of dattylics, let me observe, that, of fourteen difc
ferent forms of dactylic metre, which I have described \n my
** Latin Prosody,^ twelve afe utterly repugnant to the genius of
bur language, except indeed that some few of the twelve might
'perhaps, by means of that troublesome expedient, the double
rhime, be rendered tolerable to an English ean— Some attempts
were made ia the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries to intro-

Pfe9(ydy. 15

Pfe9ody. 15

cMi^fimrtk, aod other eoen syllables ; the odd syl-
lables being un-«cteftted. But the number of pure

dace the] dactylic metre, as witness the following curiouA

sample.-**

d Piiirildh, wJky wg go ? Ph4rftoh said/' Gang, &a ylS can gmag*'-*

b«t it did net succeed. Nor was it more sucoessfal in France^

where it -was also attempted about the sanse period ; tbougb it

appears to somewhat less disadvantage in the following speci*

men-^a translation from Martial, 8,tl—

Aubfi/r£b&iU£ 1^ jofir: poOrqnoi ndtre ais< r<Hieas>ta?
Cesar doit r^vikiir : aab«, rftUuU« U jour.
An elegant and ingenious poet of tin present day has, in one of
his sportWe moments, made a new attempt at English dactylics,
without rbtme : but be unfortunately chose one of those ^* un-
IRngliihP forms of the dactylic, in whicb he could not reasonably
hope for success ; and, though his other poems will undoobtedlj
pass to posterity with applausci^ I ventiift to predict that his dao
Cyfies will not %»A many admirers or imitators. Captain Morris,
r, has, with ludicrous feUoity, eiaf loyed rkimed dactyUe$
I of his foeces: but neither will Up I prestmie, have maaj
ittitatorsi for, aa the metce in question consists entirely of dac-
tyls, if we wish to render it in any degree tolerable to an £nglM
•ar, we must close the Terse with a trisyllabic rhiuie, as
Hmnier^ng, wond^^rifng — society, notoriety ; it being uecessaif^
as I have before observed, that the rhime should always begin oa
an aocedted syllable : and what one of a thousand poets will bare
the patience to seek, or the ingenuity to find, a sufficient number
of euch rhimes? Besides, this triplicate rhime, hoWever well it<«*
may occasionally be suited- to light, careless, jocular composi-
tions^ would leave our dactylics wholly destitute of poetic dignity
and grace.>-*-Thore are, however, two forms of the dactylic metre,
which our language might very well admit, the one consisting of
two, and the ether of three dactyls, followe J, in each case, by an

B «

' 16 , ' Prosody.

ilUBbics> found in the writings of our poeU^ bears a

small proportion to that of th« mixed lanabics, in

i^ose composition are admitted other feet besides tbe

' Iambus, as I shall hereafte^ show ; con teq ting myself

** "" ! ■« ■'! !■ I. II 111 I I Ml.ll H ^

accented syllable. Thus constituted, they would be exactly
equiTalent^to anapRstics deprived of the first semi-foot, as will
appear by the foUdwing exemplification^ — »

Anapastic —

We spSak I 8f the po-l-gts, wh5 cljoose, f ftr th«ir lay,
The nie-l-tr* dicty-l-Wc, s6 Itve-j-ly ftnd gSy—
The p6-l-«ts, whft chOose, | ftr th^ir | lay,
A m€-|-tr6 s6 li?©-l-ly ftnd gay —
Dactylic — ^ *

•atTc^ indeed I have, in different poems, seen some odd verses pf
the^ kind accidentally interspersed apiong anapaestics ; though I
^ X)id'rtdt think them, worthy of: notice, accounting them only as
iioipcrfect anapsestics; which, in facl^ they wcre,:Since it was for
lunapsestics that the writers had intended them. But, if adopted
«s a distinct at)d independent metre,, and professedly used as
«4uch, I conceive that the longer of the two measures could,
hardly fail to command the approbation of the public. At the
same time, however, I foresee that the poet who adopts either of
them^ will find sufficient exercise for his patien<*e and ingenuity,
* from the difficulty 'of o/koo^* finding an accented *emphatic|^l*
laMe for the beginning of his line, where Or, For, To, In, And, or
some equally undignified monosyllable, will often importunately
r obtrud^ itself for admission: and, from this circumstance, he
will frequently find amipsstic lines Steal in un^observed attioog
bis dactylics, as Iambic lines steal in upon writers who are.com*
posing in Trochwics, — See** Trochaic J*

Prosody. 17

meanwhUe miih describing thie drfierent kimls as
pure Iambics.
The following rude line of fourteen monosyllables —

H5w blithe wh^n first fr5ra far X came, t5 woo ftad wlo tb^ loaid^

contains an exe^mplification of all the «egnlar formic

of EogUsh Iambics, amounting to seven, viz«

How blithe, wbon first ffoin far I came,^ to woo and win th« «u0d«.

When first from far' I came, to woo and win th« maiid'«-

From far I came, to w6o and win the maid.

I came to woo and win the maid.

To woo atTci win the maid.

And win the maid.

Theiriaidi^

and, with the addition of the ua-accented ayliabie

EN at the end of eacb^ to convert Maid into Maideu,

it will moi^eover furnish seven hypermeters — in all,;

fourteen fornis of the Iambic *.

The seven regular foroLs are likewise found ia^
the following lines f* —

Behold,

^*How short a span

Was k>ng enough, of o\i^

To measure out the life of man..

In those well-temperM da^s, his time was thienr

Sarvey'd,cast up, and found but three-scor^ years and tenr^

An d yet, thoug^h brief^ how few would wish to live their term againU

♦ To which if W-e add the six regular forms of Trochaic, and-.
six mpre with ibe additional syllable^, this same line will serve
tq exemplify twenty^ix different forms of English metre, consbt*'
ing of alternate long and short syllables. — See " Trochaic J*

t The firscsixof these lines are a. stanza of a curious, oldpbem,.
publiihedia the Lady's Magazin© frr 1806^ pag^ W6^Uie ae-

18 Pr6tody.

Iambic of$eeenfeetj or foi6rtetn$^labU$,

aad thrice [ he rout-|-ed illl j his foes, j and thrice I
Be slew | the slain. (Dry den.

This is the old £nglish baliad-measure, and was
originally intended for a single vearte, as appears by
the following line of Cowley, which has not the
cai^a after the eighth syllable> but which, on that
account, is certainly less pleasing to the ear —
The Vessel breaks, and out.the wretched reliquesrun
at last.

It was indeed usual to make the c£esura take^ place
between the eighth and ninth syllables, as we see in
our old ballads, and likewise in ou^ metrical version
of the Psalms —

The gallant-- greyhounds swiftly ran, || to chase the
fallow deer — - (Chevy Chase. .

Behold, the wicked borrows much, || arid payeth
not again — (Psalms.

from which circupistance, it betame easy to divide
the line into two verses, and thus convert each di-
stich into a tetrastich stanza, as modern writers have
done, sdmotimes without and sometimes with rhime
to the first and third lines^ as '
Before the ponderous earthly globe
In fluid air was stayM,

venth, an extempore bupplement of my owo, added merely ror
tbe^urpose of exempliilcatioo.

Prosody. - . IQ.

Before Ae ocean's mighty springs

Their liquid stores display *d (Mrs. Rowe.

But oars alone can ne'er prevaf/
To reach the distant coast.

The breath of heav'n must swell the mil;
Or all the toil is lost. (Cowper. >

When written with only a single pair of rhimes,
as in the former of these examples, it is by far the
most easy and convenient metre in the English lan-
guage, not only because it has t{ie fewest rhimes, but
because^ in that simple and homely form^ it admits a
certain degree of quaintness, a familiar simplicity of
thought and diction, which would hardly be allow-
able in any other species of verse. . But, when it is
furnished with two pair of rhimes, as in the latter
example, it commonly assumes a higher character,
refuses to stoop so low in quaintness of idea and
language, and may, from the great frequency of its
rhimes, be considered as one of the most difficult of
our metres.

There sometimes occurs, in old ballads, a variety
of this metre, which I should not have deemed
worthy of notice, if it had not been studiously
adopted by some polished writers, who have thus
given to.it a degree of consequence, which otherwise
it never would have enjoyed *. The variation cpa-

,• I purposely omit, in the following pages, several wild irre-
gular Tiolations of metre, occurring particularly in songs written

£0 Prosody.

sists in the omissipa of the eighth semtfoot^ kavibg

a single sytlable instead, of the fourth foot> as

Then down | she sunk, | despair- j-ii^,j^ || upon the

drifted snow.
And, wrung | with kiH-l-ing an-UgwtsA, || lamented-

loud her woe—
so that, if the line he divided into two verses^
the first contains only three feet and a half, or sevea
syllables, while the latter has its due measure of three
feet : e. gr.
Twas when | the seas | were roar-l^'wg

With hollow blasts of wind^
A dam-1-sel lay | deplo-|-W«g,

All on a rock reclin*d, (Gay.
Hypermeter, with double rhime-^-
When he was dead, and laid in grave, her heart wa»

struck with s3r-Hrott?.
*'0 mother! mother! make my bed; for I shall
die to mor-l-row" (Ballad of " Barbara Allen.'*

2. Iambic of six feet, or twelve syllables.
Thy realm ] for e-l-ver lasts: j| thy own | MessW .
•ah reigns. (Pope.

by persons either regardless or ignoraot of the laws of versifica-
tion. To con^itute verse, it is not» sufficient that a number o^
jarring syllables be ranged in uncouth lines with rhime at thfr
end: order, regularity, symmetry, harmony, are requisite;,
otherwise we might apply the name of verse to Swift's " Petitioft
of Mrs. Harris;* becftose the teruinatioas of the sentences ax»
made to rhi'me I

.Proiodi/. • ^1

This inetre k' called iIk; Memmdrme; and tlie
Terse, wheo properly con^ftiQted^ ought always to
bai^Jbe caesura between the sixth and seventh sylla- ^
ble8.' It is, comparatively, little used in English
composition/ though adopted, a$ their common he-
roic . measure, by our French neighbours, who have
in it entire poems, tragedies, comedies, 8ic* &c.
which, from the dull unvaried uniformity of the
caesura perpetually recurring after the third foot,
cannot, to an English ear, be otherwise than disgust- (^
ingly monotonous*. To my ear, at least, they are so,
though accustomed to tbem from early youth.-— la
our English poetry^ the Ajsxandriae appears to much
greatei atjvaptage ; .nqt, tieiag.. uniformly continued
in succession f, but employed as the closing line in* the

' / ^ — ^-t — ■ ■ ' ■ ' . ' • ' ^'

* Why is not oor Eoglish ballaiK-measure e^aa]>lyUreflom«
and disgusting,, sioce.it is* ^9 regularly dtvid^d at a .particukr
stage of the verse, as' the^Frencb Alexandrine ?-:-The difference
is obvious and striking. 'Odr line of fourteen syllables is not di-<
videdinto exact halves^ but into" members of unequal lengths,
viz. eight syllables and six; the eight-syllable portion admitting,
moreover; within its own- oompasSy an additional aad varied
caesura : and these two circumstanoes su£Btientiy guard against
that monotoaous sing-soug uniformity which is so irksome in the
French heroics, where wje figd nought but six and sixandsi;(^i^
six — the saoje numbers, the same cadences, from the beginning
of a volume te the end, with^^ut the smallest variety, to relieve
the. ennui of a wearied and impaticnf ear.

fl here speak of our genera/ practice only; for there ar^
some particular exceptions of English poems entirely written in
the Alexandrine metre. «

old heroic stanBa of Spencer and tiift imitaton^ or
sparingly, introduced (in singlet lines) among our ten-
syllable heroics^ and in bold, iiregnlar odes ; in both
which situations, it often produces a very fine effect,
by giving a strongly impressive weight, emphasis,
tad dignity to a concluding sentiment or image.

Hypermeter^ with doubie rhme-^
. • • .That never thought one thing; |} but doubly still
was gw?-|-<ic<i. (Spencer.

3. Iambic of Jive feet, or ten stfllables.

y This is our heroic metre — the principal'metre
in our language — and is perhaps"* the only species
of English verse which can nobly sustain its dignity
without the artificial jingle of rhime--that.mej:elri^
cious ornament of barbarous origin, wholly unknown

^|o the immortal bards of ancient Greece and Rome.

The five-ibot Iambic is happily adapted to themes of

every color and every degree, from the most exalted

to the most humble and familiar, and is used wither

without rbime, as

The swain I with tears | his frus-l-trate la**l*bdr yields,

&Qd fa>|-mish'd dies | amid \ Ms ri-t-pSn'd fields.

(Pope.

In sable pomp, with all her starr^ train,

ThS Night resumed her throne. RecalFd from war.

Her long-protracted labors Greece forgets. (Glover.

* I say ^' perhapt^ because Mr. Southey's Thalaba might be
quoted to prore that others abo of ous metres may sometimes
dispense with rbime..

Pro$Qdy. 2S

Farther on, 1 ghaU make a few remarks on the
ttracture and variations of this species of verse*
^ Hypermeter, with double rhime-^
In moderation placing all my gte-f-ry,
While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a aRS-j-ry.

(Pope,

Iambic offourfeei, or eight syllables.
of Plea-|-sure*s gild-l-ed baits | beware.
Nor tempt ) the Si-I-ren's fa-j-ial snare, (Cotton.
This metre is chiefly used in songs, fables/ and
other light tompositions, and is frequently alternated
in stanzas with the Iambic of six syllables-^the two
together constituting,' as before observed| the oW
ballad«measure of fourteen: e. gr.
Alas ! by some degree of woe,

Weev'ry bliss must gain.
The heart can ne'er a transport know.
That never feels a pain. (Ly ttelton.

The four-foot Iambic is sometimes celled Hudi^ ^
brastic, from Butler's poem of Hudibras, written in
such measure. But that appellation is not applied to
verses which have any claim to poetic terseness or
harmony: it is only when the lines are carelessly
scribbled in a coarse^ uncouth, slovenly, prosaic man«
ncr, that they are termed Hudibrastic.
Hypermeterj tmth double rhitne —
Exulting, trembling, raging, ySi»^-|-f»g,
Possessed beyond the Muses* paiW-|-iwg. (Collins,

. * S#*t]|e Jhote 00 this orthography io page 4i*.

£4 Prosody.

Iambic of three feet, or six nfUahlts*

Thou lov'st I to lie, 1 and hear
The roar | of wa-I-ters near. (Southey.
This metre i3 hardly used, except in stauzas, alter-
nately with the Iambic of eight syllables, and in ir-
i^giilar odes.-^Sometiraes, however, it is used un-
mixed, and with alternate rhitne/as-
Our English then in fight '
•' ' Did foreign foes subdue, ' '
And forc'd them all to flight, ,
When this old cap was new*
' (Song of " Time's AlteraUoQ."

Hypermeter, zcith double rhime —

Twas wlien the seas were roar-^-mg

A damsel lay deplor-l-mg, (Gay.
This latter is the measure to vyhich Anacreon tuned
bis lyre, in those sweet little songs, ivhich, after the
» lapse of above two thousand years, are still univer-
sally admired by all readers of taste. He, however,
made an occasibnal variation, which would not be
quite so agreeable in our language as it is in the
Greek, and which shall be noticed under the head of
Trociazcs: * *

Iambic of two feet, or four syllables. ,
^ With ra-|-vish'd ears

The mo-|-narch hears,
assumes | the g5d>

affects I to nod (Dryden.

This metre is'occasionall^ blended with verses of

Prosody. 2a

different kinds, to diversify the irregular ode— the
only purpose for which it can be advantageously
employed; for, although it might, as a continued
metre, be well enough suited to light sportive themea^
it would be next to impossible, even in a moderate
number of successive lines, to find a rhime for e^^ry
fourth syllable.
Hypermeter, with double rhime—

With other an'\-guhh

I scorn to Zan-l-guwA. (Thomson.

The Iambic ofonefoot^ or two syllables^

cannot be used as an independent metre, but may,

as an auxiliary, be employed in stanzas of diversified

measure, for the sake of variety — as the following

eiglit, which are the first lines of as many stanzas in

that curious old poem from which [ have quoted one

for an exemplification of the Iambic metres, in

page 17..

Behold ! ^ How vain
alas! They be!

oftr days How soon

we spend. They end!

]I}/ferm€ter^ with double rhime —

SurraSnt^l-W,
ConfoundAed. • . . (Anon.

Trochaic Verses
are, in reality, only defective lambieU— that is to say.
Iambics wanting the first syllable, as

v^ *li>^u V ^ Prosedy.

.y Vital spark of beav'nly flame. (Poj>e.
. iivhich Hne^ scanned as Iambic^ has a broken foot at
the beginning-^

j^ VI-|-lal spark | of heav'n-|-ly flame —

scanned as Trochaic, it has the broken foot at the
end — •

Vital I spark of | heav'nly | flame ^ —

In like manner, if we cut oflf the first syllable from
, any other form of the Iambic, we shall equally find
that it may be scanned in both ways, with the defi-
ciency of a scmifoot at the beginning or the end, ac-
cording as we scan it in Iambuses or Trochees.

Thus, the line which I have given as an exempli-
fication of the Iambic metres in page 17, if de-
prived, in each form, of its first sylhible, becomes
Ti-ochai'c, viz.

hoa?) Blithe, wL^n | first frttm I far ]( | came, tb \ woo &nd j win

and thus we see, that what we call Trochaies, r€»g?i-
iarly terminate in an accented syllable, as is the case
in every other form of English metre ; though, like
every other form, they also admit an additional un-
'accented syllable at the end, producing a double
rbime ; so that, by chaogiag MSid to Maiden in each
of the' preceding lines (as heretofore in the Iambics,

ProBodtf. '' 47

page 17) we shall have twelve forms* of Trochaic
metre *.

* It may, at first sight, appear capricious in me, and even
preposterous, to consider the defective verses as the regular Tro-
chai'cs^and to account thuse as irregular^ which hare the addi-
tional un-accented syllable, and are thus divisible into exact tro*
chees, without either deficiency or redundancy. Had I been un-
acquainted with the Latin Trocha'fcs and lanibics, I should cer-
tainly have done just the reverse. But, when T refle<;ted, that,
in Latin versification, the affinity between the Trochaic and the
Iambic is very intioiate, as indeed it also is in -English — that the
grand Latin TrochaVc of seven feet and a half is only the greater
Iambic deprived oif its first semifoot, as I have shown in my
** Latin Prowrfy*— and that those two forms are indiscriini*
nnteiy blended in the ancient comcdies^-I naturally paused to
exftfnine how the case stood in our English versification. Here
too I found that the Iambic and the Trochaic were in fac( the '
same, with only the difference of the first syllable, sometimes
inserted, sometimes omitted, as we very frequently see . in our
Anapestic verses, where the omission of the first syllable hardly
produces any perceptible difference in the measure, an^, none in
the rhythm or cadence; the remainder of the line being accented,
scanned, and pronounced in the same manner, whetl>cr the first
foot consist of two syllables or of three. Accordingly, Milton
makes no distinction between the Iambic and the Trochaic. In
the Allegro and the FenurotOy he mixes them without the
smallest discrimination, uniting them even in the same couplet,
of which the one line contains eight syllables, while its fellow is
stinted to seven, accented, however, in the same manner as the
corresponding syllables of the longer line, measured backward
from the end, as, for example —

^ Come, I but k6ep | thy w6nt-|-ed st^te,|

With ^-[-ven st^p | and mu-|-5ing gait.| (II Penseroso,
In modern times, the practice is the same. To instance freta

2B Prosody.

But, of the six legwlar forms above exemplified,
and the six hypenneters related to them, the first

an elegant poetess of our own day, we see, in Mrs. Barbauld's
address ** to Wisdom,"

With respect to the additional un-accentfd syllable, making
double rbime and exact trochees, that is a purely, iidyentitious
and accidental circumstance, as is sufficiently proved by the ex-
ample of Milton, who, in one and the same couplet, equally
makes the addition to the complete Iambic, as to the defective
line which we call Trochaic, viz,

^ Th^n|to c6me, | in spite | of t^r-W^rua

And at | my win-I*dow bid |^ood fw^r-||-ri»a; — (L'Allegro^

for surely nobody can suppose tliat he intended the lattrr of
these lines for Trochaic— On the whole, then, as nil our other
metres regt</ar/y terminate with an accented syllable; as the
addition of the supernumerary un-acccnted syllable is an arbi-
trary licence of the poet, and, in fact, only a privile^^rd anomaly,
which equally takes place in ewry other form of English verse ;
us the omission of the first syllable creates no difference in the
nature of the Anapaestic verse; and as the poets niake, in
reftUty, no distinction between the Tambic line of eight syllables
and the Tambic or Trochaic of seien; I conclude, that what we
Tall Trochaics, are only defective Iambics, regularly temiina*
ting in an accented syllable ; and that tho&e which have the
additional un-accented syllable, are irregular hyperweter lines,
ulthough they accidentally happen to make even trochees, and
although some poets have written entire pieces in that irregular
measure, as indeed every other kind of defective, redundant, cr
otherwise anomalous metre, has occasionally pleased the fancy of
some writer, who chose to employ it in his compositions.

Prosody. 29

t^ife in each class are cither not at all used^ or at
least BO very rarely, as not to be worthy of further
notice in" these pages. Indeed, not one of them '
woqM be at all pleasing to n poetic ear ; their too
great length being inconsistent with that rapid easy
lightness and volubility which we viish and expect
from the defalcation of the regular Iambic metre, ^
The longest regular Trochaic which has any claim
to our attention, is the

Trochaic of three feet and a half.
' Man a-l-lone, in-|-lent to | stray,
ever | turns from | wisdom's | way. (Moore.'
This metre is admirably calculated for light, lively,
cheerful subjects: but it is an extremely difficult
metre to any poet who wishes to write a// Trochaics,
without a mixture of eight-syllable Iambics: and
the cause il obvious — a, the, and, of, for ^ and other
un-emphatic monosyllables, will frequently present
themselves for admission at the beginning of the line,
where one of them will prove a very aukward stum-
bling-block in the poet's way. ' If he adopt that
puny monosyllable to begin a teven^yllable line, he
spoils his verse, which is thus destitute of the neces-
sary accent and emphasis on the first syllable. If he
seek to avoid that inconvenience, and cannot entirely
discard the obnoxious monosyllable, he must make
the line a perfect Iambic of four feet complete, with
the accent on the even syllables : and such indeed is
c 2

so Prosody.

the practice of our best poets^ in whose effusions^ We
▼ery frequenlly observe that the perfect Iambic has
UD*avoiclably and imperceptibly cr^t in among the
TrochaicSj so that it is very rare to find even a score
\ of Trochaic lines anniixed with perff^^t Iambics.
This form of the Troghaic is sometimes called
Anacreontic, but very erroneously, as Anac^eon's
metre 1$ quite different \

* It is easy to account for the ^rror.*— Some English ppet, ac-
quainted with Anacreon, wrote, like hin), on light lively subjects
-—like him, also, in light easy style — like him, too, in short
metre, though different from that of the Greek songster. From
those feattti-es of partial resemblance, he styled his pieces Ana^
cftontky as we give tbe name of Pindaric to odes composed in
the bold irregular ntanuer of Pindar, though not written in
Plndar^s metre. Hence the English reader, equally un-^cquainted
with Anacreon in the original Greek, and with the imitations of
his metre in Latin, erroneously conceived, that, in those English
productions, the metre itself was Anacreontic — an egregious
error, excusable however in him, though it would be unpardon-
able in any classical scholar. In short, as already observed ia
page 24, the metre in which Anacreon chiefly wrote, and which
alone bears the title of Anacreontic in Greek and Latin, is our
three-foot Iambic with a supernumerary short syllable, and with
the first foot sometimes an anapaest, as here exemplified in two
of his own lines —

616-1-ia, noa-l-tilr, ei-l-p^o......

apttloi-|-ttt pr6-|-ttts au-l-tas«..
in the former of which lines, his metre is exactly this—

in the latter,

Pmodif* 31

Hypermeter, with double rlume —

Trembling, | hoping, 1 llng'ring, \fliiing.

oh ! the I pain, the ;| WIss, of J dying! (Pope.

Trochaic of two feet and a half.
PiTthec, I why s8 | pale ? (Suckling.
This measure is little used, and cannot be employed
to advantage, except occasionally, for the sake of
variety, in mixed stanzas of various nletre.
Hypermeter, with double rhime —
Loudly I roars the | thunder. (Anon,

The Trochaic of one foot and a half
may not unaptly be called the Lilliputian Trochaic,
partly from the brevity of its measure, partly from
the circumstance of its having been so characteristi-
cally employed by Gay in his Lilliputian odes to

Gulliver; e.gr.

See him | stride

Valleys | wide,

over J woods,

over I flSods, &c.
Except on some Lilliputian occasion of similar
kind, this metre cannot otherwise be employed than
in diversifying mixed stanzas consisting of different
kinds of verse.

Hypermeier, with double rhime —

Soft de-l-wm/s

Are but | trials, (Hughes

St Jf¥d^.

Jnapttstit Verses
pmperlj consist of anapaests alone, as

The misfor-|-tunes that fall | to the lot | of the great.

(Ainsty,
The first foot, however, in all the different forms of
Anapsestic metre, may be a foot of two syllables ;
and, provided that the latter sj^llable of that foot be
accented, as is the case in the spondee and iambus,
the syllabic difference between either of those feet
and the anapsest, in the first station of the verse,
hardly produces (as before observed under the head
of Trochaics) any perceptible difference in the mea-
sure, and none at all in the rhythm or cadence; the
remainder of the line being accented, scanned, and
pronounced in the same manner, whether the first
foot consist of two syllables or of fiiree. But the
Pyrrhic and Trochee, which have not the second
, syllable accented, are, on that account, inadmissible.
The Anapaestic metre is happily adapted to themes
of every kind, except the heroic, for which it does
not possess, in an adequate degree, the necessary
character of masculine energy and dignified eleva-
tion. — In stanzas of four-foot lines with alternate
xh^e, it well accords with grave, solemn, melancholy
musings* : in stanzas akeruateiy subjoining verses
of three feet to verses of four, or entirely consisttog^
of three-foot verses with alternate rhime, it is admi-

* Tis night; and the landscape is lovely no more.
I mourn : but, ye woodlands, I mpurn no( for jou ;

Prcaody. 3S

rably suited to soft, tender, •enliwiental, pathetic
subjects; while, in rbimed couplets of the long
measure, it is conveniently subservient to wit, hu-
mour, mirth, festivity, ridicule, satire— to the ani-
mated effusions of martial enthusiasm, or the proud
exultation of triuinph *. — On subjects of terrific
complexion,' Mr. Lewis has very successfully em-
ployed Aiiapeestic stanzas of five lines, of four feet
and three.

jindpeestic of four feet,

*Ti$ iKi voice | of the slug-|*gard : i hear | him
c5mp!ain :

For mciro is approaching^ jour chiurms to re»tofo,

PerfuiiiM with fi-«sh fragrance, and ^litiVing with dew*

Nur yet for the ravage of winter I mourn :—
Kind Nature the enibrvo biu5soni bliall bave t

But when shall spring visit the tnooldering urn ?

Oh! when bh&H it rfawn on tlic nigiit of thegravr ? (Beatti«*

* Ify like T)rt«utof oid| I had to uwake dortnunt vnlour with
the loice cf song, 1 would, in preference to every other fona
of English nietif , choose the Anapttfttio of fottr feet in couplet^
which— i/*n;0// wriltep, in rtal aoapssts un-encumbercd with an
undue weight of heavy syllable!, and judiciously aided by appro*
prlate music- could hardly fail to martinlisc even shivering cow-
Ards, and warm them into horoes ; the brisk animating inarch of
the verse having the aame effect on the souly as the body expe«
riences from the quick lively step, wliich, by accelerating the
circulation of the blood, at once wanns and dilates the heart
and renders the warrior more prompt to deeds of 'prowess.— .''
•Many lines may be found in Mr. Lewis's productions, which
would justify my choice, and a few in No. 776 of the following
Exercises,

S4 Prosody.

'* You have Hfdk'd | me loo soon : 1 1 must slum-i-ber

again." (Walts.

The spar-\'\bw and Im-l-net will feed | from j5ur

haud^
Grow tame | at your kInd-1-ness, and come | at com-
mand. (Garricjc.
This metre is sometimes called Ansteiaii or Ain^
steian, from Mr, Ainsty, who successfully eai ployed
it in his ** Nerv Bath Guide;" and it is perhaps
(with the exception of the old ballad-measure) the

, easiest metre in our language, to a writer who can
reconcile his ear to more than one heavy or accented
syllable in each foot. But, to a poet ffho vrishes la
write real anapsests of two perfectly light syllables

"und only one heavy or accented, it is perhaps the
most difficult— more so even than the pure 'I'rochuio
— because the number of monosyllabic substnativcs^
adjectives, and verbs, with which our language
abounds, and which cannot be made to glide off
smoothly without any accent, renders it almost
impossible to find a constant supply of pure real
anapjcsts. Accordingly, in ihe very best of our an^-
passtic productions, we frequently meet with lines in
which we are compelled either to injure the sense by
slightly passing over syllables which justly claim no-
tice and emphasis, or to retard the speed of tlie verse,
by laying on those syllables a weight of accenl too
heavy for the rapid course of the real anapaest. For
this reason, unwilling to deviate' from the line of pro-
priety on either side, I have, in the " KEY," avoided

Prosody. ^5

to mark the quantity of any syllables in the Ana^
paestic verses^ except the Hnal syllable of each foot,
which, at all events, must necessarily be accented.

There is a variation, or violation, of this metre,
which here requires notice, as it not unfrequently
occurs. It consists in the omission of one syllable
from tlie third foot, which thus becomes a spondee or
an iambus ; e. gr.

In (il-l-lets of brass, | roWdup \ to his ears. (Swift,

- And observe, | while you live, | that no \ man is shy

To discover the goods he came honestly by^ (Swift,

• »

But such Hnes, by whomsoever written, cannot b^
considered in any better light than that of lame,
aokward, imperfect verses, which, thougU they may
sometimes be tolerated for the sake of the matter, can
certainly not be praised, and ought never to be imi-
tated.

The same remark is, in general^ applicable to a
similar licence sometimes occurring in the fourth
foot, when a spondee is substituted for the anapaest.
Od particular occasions, however, this latter species
of spondaic Anapaestic may (like the Gireek and La-
tin SmzoMy or limping Iambic) prpve a perfectly eli*
gibte metre. In skilful hands, it may sometimes be
successfully applied to the purposes either of ridt*
cule or of pathos. Some striking word or words>
forming a grave spondee at the close, thus becoo^e
the more impressive, where the reader, after having
h'ghtly skimmed over the preceding anapaegtS| finds

36 Prosody.

his speed un expectejiy checked by that heavy foot,
as wl>en a rarer, in his rapid course, is suddenly
startled and stopped by some unforeseen impediment.
— In the followipg line of Mr. Campbell, who con-
eludes several stanzas with the same two words, the
final spondee will probably please many reade-'
And, where-e-|-ver I went, | was my poor | dog Tratf,

Hypermeteryzvith double rhime — ^
But thanks | to my friends | for their care | in my

breed'l'tng,
Who taught I me betimes ) to love work-|-ing and

read^\-irtg. (Watts.

jdnapcestic of three Jeet,

But the swSet-j-est of mo-1-ments will fly. (Anon.
She shi-!-ver'd with cold, | as she went. (Southey.

This metre (as observed in page 32) is very plea-
singly combined in stanzas with the anapaestic of four
feet, as
Ye ppwr's, | who make Beau-] ty and Vir-|-tue your

Let no sor-[-row my Phyl-i-lis molest ! [care !

Let no bla^t [ of misfor-|-tune intrude | oh the fair,

Tomf-l-fle the calm | of her breast. (Anon.
Used by itself in stanzas with alternate rhime, it is
ineffably sweet, and is perhaps the happiest metre
in oar language, for soft lender themes, as

Ye shepherds, so cheerful and gay.
Whose flocks never carelessly roam !

Should Corydon's happen to stray,

Ah ! lead the poor wanderers home. (Shenstonc.

Prosody. ^ 37

~Hypermet€r,,with double rhime-^
So ibul I aad so fierce | are iheir nd'^-4urt$. ( Wafcls.

Anap€^tic of two feet.
The bent I of the mlod,
Fxom its plea-l-fiures, we find.
As I cannot say much in praise of this metre, I
briefly dismiss it, in company with its fellow
Hypertneter, doubk'-rhimed-^

If sor-| -rows corrode || &,
And cares | overload || us

as you write
in despite
of the. Muse,

Anapastic of one foot.

and refuse
To amend

What yoiiVe penn'd....(Anon.
This trifling metre cannot be u^d to advantage in
continuation, but may sometimes be usefully em-
ployed in giving variety to the stan2as of irregular
odes, or other compositions.

Hypermeter, with double rhime—
It \s plea'\^sure
Without mea-i^sure. (Anon.

Mixture of Feet in the Iambic Metre.
I shall here exclusively confine my view to the
heroic line of ten syllables: but the same remarks,
which I make on it, will equally apply to the other >
forma of fembic metre—with only this difference,
that, according as they are longer or shorter, tfaey
aUow more or less scope for poetic licence.

38 ' Progwfy.

As already observed in page 14, pme Iambic
Terses properly contain no other foot than the lam-
busj as '

Her beau-l-t^ nought | imp^r'd { by leogih | gf

years, •. ^.^ v..,-. ., .

cxeeed-l-ingfair^ \ her an-hgei form;j appmri*

* Excieding/air» — Soope modern writers appear to have con-
xeivcd an irreconcil£ibIe antipathy te the word *< Exceeding"
thus used in conjunction with an adjective, and have> on etery
occasion, substituted <^ Exceedingly^ in its stead. Nevertheless,
if I rightly understand the import of the former, as used bf yery
respectable authors, (and, among others, our translators of the
Bible, who have furnished us with near eixty examples of" JEf*
ceeding/* ia conjunction with adjectives) it is not only a legiti-
Riate^ but a fine, significant, emphatic expression. When, for bz«
ample, it is said of a woman, that she is exceeding fmr^ passing
Jair, or surpassing fair (which are all synonymous phrases), if we
but rightly parse the sentences, we shall readily come at the trne
meaning, which is, that she i^fair^ not merely in the positive and
ordinary degree, but superlatively fair, ♦ exceeding^ " passingl*
cv*' surpassing/' what is usually deemed **fair;^* the participle
being in the nominative case agreeing with" ^Ae," and **fair^ ia
the accusative [or objective] case, governed by the participle:—
or, both the adjective and the participle may be considered as
nominatives; i. e. ^'Slie is /</«>, surpassing all others ip that re*
speet"— Thus, when Goldsmith, in his ** Deserted Village,r de-
scribes the curate, as

,„„passing rich with forty pounds a year —
the meaning is obviously this, that the good maa, according to
bis own ideas, surpassed in riches all the rich — fancied himself e^
rich as CrGB5US.w^e the note on *^ Ever fo^' and '^ Never so,*
in page 64«

Boty however sweet and pleasing this comtructioa
may appear in a few verses — however superior it may
be (or be thought) to any other — certain it is, that^
if continued with unvarying uniCbrcaity, it would
soon cloy the taste by its unmixed^ uncontrasted
sweetness — would fioaHy prove nauseous and dis^
gusting, and would grievously disappoint that love
of variety, which the Almighty has, for a wise and
beneficent purpose, made a characteristic of the
human race. — In the present^ as in many other
cases, our taste happily accords with the condition
in which Nature has placed us : we dislike uniforoiL
sameness; and lucky it is that we do, since uniform
sameness is here un-attaitiable : for no poet, however
great his talents and his patience, could possibly
produce a good poem of any considerable lengthy
^itirely consisting of pure Iambics. To obtain an
aeoenton every second syllable, he must he obliged
entirely to exclude from his pages a very great num-
ber of fine expressive words — to lengthen, curtail,
new>-mould, and transform many other^^-^^to commit
frequent violations of syntax, with as frequent per-
versions of style and sense: and, after having tired
himself with this laborious trifling, he would tire his
reader with the monotonous drone of his stiff uniform

* After the example of Homer and other ancients, who
blended varioujT dialects in their verse, and used poetic licendei
of every klad, in a mannej: which never could be endured in our
language, though custom ha& reconciled us to it in the Greek.

40 Prosoify.

YerftificMton. But our poet^ were tocr wise to mfiike
the attempt: they bowed obedient to Nature: thej
prudently chose the smoother, easier path, which sbe
had pointed out ; and, availing themselves of that
copious variety af words and of accent which owe
langaage affords, they have pleasingly diversified
the forfiis of their metre, by occasionally obliging
the Iambus to resign its station to a foot of difierent
kind,, as the Trocbee( - "^ ), the Spondee (-t -), the
Pyrrhic ( ^ 9 ) — each a very useful auxiliary in
Iambic composition. (Bnt^ see the " Hint on Song^
vritingy'* in page 60.)
^** Of these the'^ Pyrrhic has the foremost claim to
xH>tice;as being the most necessary : for, though a
poet might perhaps dispense with the Spondee and
the Trochee, he could not possibly exclude the Pyr-
rhic from his lines, in a poem of any considerable
length. This foot, however, is rarely pf oductive of
any beauty, other than the general beauty of va-
riety : but it is un-avoidubiy admissible, from the
nature of our language, in which J, And, In, Of,
For, T&f Or, and many other light monosyllables,
must so frequently follow or precede an un-accented
syllaHe, that it would be utterly impossible to write
lambie yerse, if we were to exclude tl)e Pyrrhic.-r-
Ih the second, third, and fourth, stations, it passes
un-objectionable, particularly if the foot imme-
diately following be a strong emphatic spondee. In
the first station, it is rather detrimental to the beauty
and harmony of the line, though somewhat less in.

Prosody. 41

jurious wbqri follovred by a spondee, than when suc-
ceeded by an Iambus ; because, in the former case,
the third syllable of the verse has an accent ; whereas,
in the latter, there are three un-accenled syllables
together — a portion, too great to be wholly destitute
of accent at the beginning of the line ; although, in
the body of the verse, an equal portion may very
well dispense with accent. But, even there, two
successive Pyrrhics, or four un-accented syllables in
continuation, seldom produce any other than an utt-
pleasing effect. — In the fifth station, the Pyrrhic ma-
terially weakens and unnerves the verse, notwith-
standing our utmost efibrt to crutch up the limping
line by the support of a straraed and unnatural pro-
nunciation^ giving aa undue emphasis to the final
syllable, as when the verse terminates with such a
word as Fanityy Emfy*, &c.

The Spondee claims admission into every station of
the metre ; and, in every station, it rs welcome, if ^
we except the fifth, where, by attracting to the pe-
nultimate syllable of the line too much of the accent
and emphasis which peculiarly belong ta the final
syllable, it generally shocks the ear ;. though, in some
special cases, it is productive of a striking beauty, as
where Dryden, having to bend the stubborn bowi.

* What could be worse, thao^ never more to see

His life, bis soul; his charming Emily f (Dryden.

Furious he drove, and upward case hiseje^

"Where, next the que?*, was plac'd his. Emiljf. (Dr^^dcn*

42 Frosody.

re%enes his main effort for the close of the linc> and
there^ with more striking and impressive eSect,^xexts
his utmost strength in straining the ** toitgi yew" —

At the full stretch of both his hands, he drew.
And almost join'd, the horns of the tou^yew.

Too many spondees render the verse heavy and
prosaic. Although three may somtiimes be tolerated^
to9 are, in general, as great a weight as the line can
urell bear, if we wish it to move with easy step, and
with poetic grace. Tw.0, in fact, are no incum-
brance, particularly if they be not placed together,
"hut separated by the intervention of one or two
Iambuses, or a single Pyrrhic. — In every case, indeed>
unless where sonie striking and impressive effect is
intended to be produced by the tardy weight of
continued spondees, it is always advisable to keep
them asunder.

The Trochee very frequently occupies the first sta-
tion, where it is almost always blameless, and often
highly laudable *. In the third, it may sometimes

* It is worthy of remark, however, that, when the initial trochee
. divides a word, it is much less pleasing to the ear, than when the
foot and the word terminate togetiier : e. gr.
I tS6^- \'ing forth, the knight bestrode his steed. [(ThomsoB *

'Reai6n is here no guide, but still a guard. (Pope.
Xoose ^^ I the winds their airy garments flev/. (Pope.
But tchut is the cause? — In Latin, as observed by QuintiHan
Aud other ancient writers, the interruption iu the continuity of
t^e foice, between the terminatioa of one word and the coofc-

P'rosocfy^ 43

pass uncensured : but, iti the second or fourth, ft ge-
nerally has a tendency to enfeeble and tinharmonise
the line ; thoueh, in some rare instances^ it may be
made to produce a happy effect — as indeed almost
every species of poetic deformity ipay, by skilful ma-. .
na^ement, be occasionally converted into a cbarm,
like the artificial spot on the cheek of Beauty, or tlie
j-iigged ruin amid the cultured landscape.

Without further remark, I proceed to quote a few
verses cpntaifjing examples of the auxiliary feet*.

m^ncemeiit of the next-^-however short, and almost imper-
ceptible, the pause may be — gives nevertheless an additional
iength of lime to the final syllable of the former : and w^e per-
fectly well know, that, in Greek and Latin poetry, that littfe
pause frequently produces a dactyl or a spondee from syllables
which, to an inexperienced pro^odiap^ w.ou^d appear to , maj^e
only a tribrachys in the former case, in the latter an Iambus, as I
have shown in my " Latin ProsodtfJ" — -Is the same doctrine
applicable to our English language? I leave that point to be de-
termined by others: but, in the mean time, whatever may be
the cause of the difference, certain it is that the initial trochee
which terminates a word, more completely fills and satisfies the
car, than thax really shorter trochee, vvliich, embracing only part
of a word, admits no interruption in the continuity of the voice^
- no pause whatever, that can at all aid in giving weight and em-
phasis to its second syllable : and the same effect is produced in
every oth^r station of the verse where a trochee occurs, as may
easily be proved by altering such trochee and the following syl-
lable to one soliti trisyllabic word, corresponding in accent witik
the three syllables displaced.

* I reserve to a future occasion to enter into a minute ana-
lytical examination of this our principal metre, fQot by foot^

44 Vrosody.

The Pyrrhic--
and to I the dead [ my will-1-ing shade | shall ga.

(West.
Toqua-I nty \ belongs* | the high-t-est place. (Young.
And ^11 I the ie-^nor of \ his soul | is lost. (Parnelh
His heart | dilates, | and glo-^nes in \ his strength.

(Addison.
And speak, | though sure, I with seem-l-ing diF-l/I-
dince. (Pope.

audio I be ta-l-fcen ttiith \ ^ sud-1-den pain. (Young.
a5 on I a day, | reflect-l-5fng on \ his age... (Lowth.
Solem-l-ni^j^ '« 1 a c(^\'VtrJor \ a sot. (Youug.

The Spondee —
^ born I to thoughts, I to plea-|-sures, more [ sublimet

(Langhorne.

Forbear, j great man \ in arms | renown'd, | forbear.

(Addison.

The west-1-ern sun | now Mt \ a fee-1-ble ray,

(Addisoo.

That touched I the ruff | that touchTdlQwcew Bess-l-es*

ehin. • (Young.

and syllable by s^lUble^Ja all its diflFerent forms and modifica-
tions, on the extensive pUn of the ^ Anal^sit'' of the Hexameter
Vetse, in tl« ia&t improved edition of my " Latin Prosody,*"

* Queen Besses cA»«.— This spelling, though different from
that of the printed copy now before me, is undoubtedly correct,
and sanctioned by former usage, as may be seen Uy recurring ta
early editiona of books written before the comraencepient of the
last centary: audit has reason on itsside.AS well as custom^
Our modero genitive S witk the apostrophe (« ^^^'^^ Feter's^

Prosody. 45

For who I can write | so fast | as men | run mad'f

(Young,
Hire dwells | kindtase^ \ and un-repro-|-ving joy^

(Thomson,

&c.)is evidently nothing else than a contraction of t1te aQtiqii0
genitive termination ES, in which, for brevity^s sake, we omit the
£in pronunciation, as v^e do in the preterites of most of our re-
gular Yerbs, Lov'd, Walked, Composed, &c. But there are cases,
in which we eannot suppress the £, of either the preterite or the
genitive. To verbs ending in D or T, we cannot, in pronuncia-
tion, add the D for the preterite without the aid of a vowel ;
whence we are compelled to retain the sound of the E io.speaking,
and also to express it in writing, a? Sound-ed, Lu^fneni-ed^ &e.
and^ 10 verbs endiug m DE or TE, as Divide, liecite, the mute
E becomes sonorous in the preterite, i^nd furnishi s an additional
syllable. Divided^ ReciUdy &c. In nouns, a siiniiar cause pro-
duces a similar effect, which has the universal sanction ^forat
usage. As we cannot, without the assistance of a vowel, add S
to nouns ending in 5, X, Zy CHySH, w«* retain, io pronoacia*
tion, the full original sound of the ES in the genitive, a^, a Foxa
Imish, a Lotfef beauty, a WUckea art, a ThrHMh€9 nest ; and ia
noofift ending in CE, SEy GE, the mute E becoiueb sonorous, and
productive of an additional syllable, as, her Graces concert, a
Hones mane, a Saget wisdom. Now this is all as it should be :
we speak properly, thougli we choose to write incrirrectlj^.^ and
coBtrary to the practice of our fore-fathevs. But I ask, is it
reasonable to retain, in writiag, the E of tlie preterites Loved,
Walkedy &c. which is not at all sounded in speech, and to reject
the E of the genitives FoxeSy Thruthesy 6cc which is universally
sounded ? For my part, in ray edition of Dry den* s Virgil^ I
thought myself bound to adopt tha pure old orthography which
I found in his own original edition, and, after his example, to

46 Prosoch/.

Vew scthiU I arise: | new fi«J-|.scapes strike | the
eye. (Thomion.

y5»fcffiss-|-ed san, | and this \ green earth \ so fttiV*
A (Thomson.

Or where I old Cam } sqftpa-Uces o'er | the lea.

(Thomsoii.
Wipe cff 1 thefaint | coW iews \ weak «5-l-ture sheds.

(Thomsen.

one dark \ rough tofid \ of sighs, | groans, pains, | and

tears. (Cotton.

Mocks, caves, | lakes, dens^ \ bogsj^ns, \ and shades |

of death. (Milton.

The Trochee--'

Tyrant \ and slave, | those names | of hate | and fear,

(Denham,
••....Was lent, ( not to \ assure \ our doubt-l-ful way.

(Dryden.

■ ■■ ■■ ■— i— iai^.».— *i^^.^—i ^ii I ■■ ■ " ■ » ■■■■ ■! ■ • m

te/minaie such genitives in £1$ witkout an apostrophe.--»lf itW
objected, that this orthography woufd create ambiguity by }^ving
no distinction between singular and plural, I reply, that the
context will, in most cases, prevent that ambiguity ; and the
apostrophe, usoally added to the plural genitive, will sufficiently
guard against it in the few remaining cases where alone any
doubt could possibly exist.— Or, as a medium between impro-'
priety and inconvenienee — and a small sacrifice tq modern fa-
shion-^the apoitrophe (though neither necessary nor strictly
proper) might be retained, together with the E, in the singular
genitive, thus-*-Queen Bess^es chin, a fox*es brush, a l^hruih^ts
nest, dec. and this practice I have myself adopted in a work of
considerable magnitnde, which has lately passed under roy revi-
sion, as editor.

Prosody. 47

And spar^t-kliDg wine | smiles in | the tempt-j-ing
glass. (Roscommon.

ecJioes | at bestj^ | all wi \ can say | is vain.

(Buckingham.
Th^auxiliary Feet promiscuously blended^
T^i^ I thick woods \ jihe wool-1-ly flocks | retreat.

(Addisoa*
F^&mtki I vain con-^l-verse of \ the world | retir'd.

(Youijg.
ai^^ii I ttch knave ^s \ a Vi^l^bel on | the laws. (Young.
Wb$f^i you I the doll-l-eji^ of\ dull things \ have said.
r ; (Young.

and to I a life | mZre hZp-'l-py and \ refin'd. (Thomson.
iff An I alljoolsey \ 5//-poi»?V-l-ful Vro'\'vidence. (Gay.
of their \ exo-|-*tic minA-strtls and \ shrill pipes.

(Somerville.
The gen-l-tle move-|-^c«^a«rf j %ldw wieo-l-sur'd pace.

- (Young.
Great souls j by in-l-s^inctto | each o-|-ther turn.

(Addison.
allln^Ystrumenis, \ all arts \ of ru-I-inmet.(Denham,
Death, wrapped \ in chains, | low at I the ba-|-sis lies.

(Yoqng.
Makes all | Jove's thun-l-^er on \ her ver-|-ses wait.

(Roscommon.
High 5ta-)-tion8 tu-|-»ttift^ but | not bliss, \ create^.

(Young.
Nature \ wasm \ alarm: | some dan-|-ger nigh.

(Drydea.
Whether \ by na-l-ture form'd \orbp\ long use.

(SomerviUe.

48 Prosody.

Sceptrh \ and thr(Hies | are de^l^itm'd to \ obey.

(Addison.
Spiders \ ensnare ; ) mikes poi-|^9on ; ti-|-gers prowl.

(Beattie«
Wind the I shrill hbruy \ or spread j the wa*|-viagi3et.

(Pope '
Europe^s \ loud cries, | that Pro'l-vidence \ assail'd.

(AddMOQ.
....Tempt the I lastfu'\'ry of \ extreme j despair.

(Denbam.
Virtue's \ the paint | thdtcdn \ maA:6 ariTz-l-kles shine.

(Young.

^,,*Brought death \ ^nta | the world, | and all ] our

woe. (Milton.

To launch | from earth | Into \ eter-|-ni^y, (Gay.

Trdops6f\ bold youths \ bom on] thedi-l-stantSaoae*.

(Addison*
What nsL^l'ture has | denied, \ fools wtll j pursue.

. (Yoong.
The bails j of his | broad eyes \ roWd m \ his head.

(IVryden.

Tis tri-l-umph all | and joy : | 7idw, my \ brave

yquth^... (Somerville.

Concerning the Trochee, the Spondee, and the

Pyrrhic, there can be no doubt. Bur, with respect

to the Dactyl, the Anapfcst, and the Tribrachys, the

• Sfl^nc— pronounced like the English word Sown, with iu
fullest SQund; whence, in sonae editions of Addison, it is erro-
neously printed iSoan^

Prosody. 4^

casfe is differeftt: and, how far they prevail in our*
Iambic verse, is a questfon which never can be dc- '
termined by the opinion or authority of any gram-
marian ; because, in ten thousand instances where
we may fancy that we discover those trisjUabtc feet, '
there occurs not perhaps a single one, in which we
can to a certainty tell whether the writer ((id not
intend, by a synaeresis, a syncope, or some other
poetic licence, to make the fool in question aTrochee,
a Spondee, or a Pyrrhic*. The author alone can

* This uncertaiaty is an inconvenience inseparable from the
nature of our language, and un-avoidably resulting from our want
of a nicely-discriminated syllabic quantity to guide us, as in. the
Greek and Latin; in which languages, it is, for the most part, ,
evident at the first glance, whether the poet meant a syncope, a
synaeresis, or any other licence, an3 what foot he intended ; the
reader finding an un-erring guide in the quantity, aided besides
by that well-known rule, that one long syllable, is equal to two
short — a spondee to a dactyi, anapaest, or proceleusmatic (i,, €.
a double Pyrrhic), If that rule were really applicable to out
language, we should have fewer doubts respecting the feet ; but
it does not hold good in English; since we see that a Pyrrhic, .
of two light, un-accented syllables, equally makes a foot with us,
as a spondee of two heavy, accented syllables ; and this, not
only in cases where a contiguous spondee might be supposed to
compensate, by the additional length of its time, for the stinted
brevity of the Pyrrhic, but also in verses innumerable which'
contain no spondee, though sometimes two Pyrrhics occur in the
same line, as may be seen among the examples quoted in page 44.
This circumstance proves that the numfter of syllables (excluMve"
of their accent or quantity) is a mucfaf more important coaiidera-

50 Prosody.

decide the question in each particolar cese tbat^liow
that decision is to be obtained^ I know not. In tlie
asean time^ it may be proper to observe, that
whei^ver, in our Iambic metre, we find the apj>ear-
ance of adactyl, an anapaest, or a tribrachys, such
appearance usually presents, itself in some word, or
combination of syllables, that is susceptible of syncope
or synseresis, — very rarely, if at all, in any others.
How this circumstance alone is sufficient to authorise
a doubt whether those feet were ever intended : for,
if intended^ why do they not as frequently occur in
words or combinations which admit no licence, and
in which the trisyllabic foot would evidently and
unquestionably appear i That they do not, is cer^
tain : and this consideration naturally suggests the
following easy and simple mode of ascertaining how
far the dactyl, the anapaest, or the tribrachys, is an
ornament or a disparagement to our Iambic metre
—and, consequently, how far we ought to court or
ayoid the appearance of such feet in poetic conipo*
•ition or recitation..

If, from any verse of ordinary construction, we

CfoniD our Eoglish poetry than in the Latia, where, without the
MnaUest diference in the metre, the heroic verse of six feet may
vaiyfroni thirteen to seventeen syllables, and the common six-
^t Iambic from twelve to eighteen. At the same time it fur-
lushea an argument against the hasty and unnecessary introdoc*
ttoa of UisylkbieleetiBto our Iambic metre, to alter ^fae number
oCiIm lyllaliks, on wUdi oar vemficattoa appears so moch to
depend.

Prosodif. 41

remove any number of syllables^ a^d substUate aa
equal number of others, exactly correspouding with
them in accent — although the sense m^y be ini«
paired/ the metre at least will still be perfect: e»|[EU

Petides' wrath, to GrScce the direful spriiig
of woes unnumbei^dj heav'nly goddess, sing.

The Frenchman's arts, to Spain the direful spring
qfj^uds and carnage, heav'nly goddess, sing»

Hark ! the numbers, soft and clear^
Gintly steal upon the eat.

Hark ! the thAnders, loud and clear,
Rudely burst upon the ear.

With horns and with trumpets, with fiddles and

drums.
They'll strive th divert him, as soon as he comes.

With dancing and concerts, with fiddles and drunM,
They'll greet and amuse him, as soon as he comets.

Here, in three diflFerent species of verse, three dif-
ferent kinds of feet are altered i and yet, so far as
mere sound and metre are coaoerned^ the altered lines
ape equally good as the original,-*- Let «is now apply
the same test to some of those Iambic verses, in
which a hasty reader might fancy that he perceives
some of the trisyllabic feet : e. gr.
Which ma-l-nydbard | had chant-|-ed »Mi-l-«y a day.
O'er ma^\-ny 6/r3-l-zen,*»a-l*'iijr «/ie^l-ry Alp.

In these lines, we four times discover the appet^"

5fi ' Prosody.

tihee of anapaests, as marked ♦. If they be real ana-
psests) and the chafstened ear approve them as such,
it win equally admit other, less questionable, ana*
paests in their stead . Let us try —
Which Ho-|-wi«r the bard \ had chant-l-ed once |

m his djay*
O'er hor-1-rad and froA-utn smo-i-ASfwg and f%Z'\--xj

Alps.

^* I have seen these yerses so scanned in print, as to make
I vs}iichmany\')tdmany\>^trmany \ -ztnmany \ Hfit \ so many
examples 'f the amphibrachys. But the amphibrachys (z.% well
observed by Mr. Dawes in his Miscellanea Critica) is not admis-
sible on the same footing with the spondee, the dactyl, or the
anapaest; and it is repugnant to the nature of our English veni"
, ^cation, which requires the ac«entson the first or last syllables of
such feet as have any accent: for I cannot consider the three
concluding syllables of a double-Thiming Iambic as a single foot,
much less an amphibrachys, because the first ankl second of those
syllables may be, and often are, both aceented.— Besides, in the
following lines — the first from Dryden, the others from Gray—-
....By guns, invented since, |^// mor\-ny a day —

Tull rao-|-fry a gem \ of purest ray serene

Fullma-l'Tii/ a flower \ is born to blush unseen....
we cannot make an amphibrachys of Tull many, the word Full
requiring too strong an accent. Full nta- will necessarily be a
spondee; and, as-ny a must here, in each case, be together
t||iken into the following foot, we may hertce learn how to dis-
pose of the same syllables in the verses above quoted.— With re-
spect to the Fie- \\\ Fiery , \t must be considered as a single
syllable, and ought, indeed, (agreeably to its obvious' etymology)
to be written without the jE; as JMiry, Spiry^ Wiry^ from Jlf«>«,

{(^mtj. rendeff of poetic ^ari wUl sesi^iisly ppo^
noiuic^ ib«99 alt^^d linesv ta ba good and fidmUsibte
«g^^0eft, 1 b^9jve4iotx>ne vfoid more to say 4m the sub-
ject. But, if every ptrson of tasie joins with m^-^
a&, |H> doubt, be will — in declaring thedi lo be most
detestable verses, or rather indeed no verses at all-r-^
then it fteemi to follow (hat the anapie^t mars our
Iambic metre : for it is not merely the badn^s^ of -
my ana[raests that has done the mischief; m the
reader will, upon trial, experience the same result
from the introduction of any others,- that have all
their syllables distinctly proaounfced. I-n reading,,
therefore, unless certain that a real anapaest occur^^
let us beware of conjuring up anapaestic phantoms,
to scare away the metre and harmony of the lines—
especially when it is so easy to avoid' the'nj; as here, for
exftoiple, where we have only to employ a synaeresis
in tuf a, and make each of those four feet an. Iambus,
by rapidly prooouncing the' two vowels as a single
syllable, as the lA in Btiiannia, Htbtmia^ Spanimti,
Italian^, FalUiut, 8lc.

By a similar synaeresis, -ry Mpires may be sounded
nearly as two syllables^ to make an Iambus^ in the
foUoiiving line of Miitonr—

....Of ignominy ; yet to glo-|-ry aspires-—
and, in many other case8> an on-accented final vowel
may, without elision,^.be made to coalesce with tffe
ioitial vowel immediately following. In. such' words,
tooy as Echoing^ Following^ Bellowing^ the two latter
syllables may be rapidly sounded together, as^one

54 ProioA/.

by synasretis : and, in the following liaes of Mieltcm^-^
Of Aif •l-rarchies, of orders, and degrees—
The great | Aiera^-1-chal standard was to oiov^ —
the syllables, A«-e, become one by synaeresis, as Liar
is made by Pope to rhime with ^Squire, and Higher
by Somerville*.

Let us now examine tiie dactyl and tribracbys^
which may, in appearance, be both found in the
fallowing lines of Milton —

...Mfirmttfli^ ; ( and, with him, fled the shades of

night—
...Inau-|-mera^/^ | before th*Almighty's throne.

But let ns try a real dactyl, and a real tribrachys — <;

•..S3rroa2/w/;|and,withhim,fled the shades of night— »

...Distin'i'gutshdble \ before th' Almighty's thtone.

^iere again the real feet most sadly limp and faolter,
jnd the lines bear little resemblance to verse ; while,
in the original, the apparent dactyl and tribrachys
move along with steady graceful step, and the lines
' are perfectly metrical. But the fact is, that we really
do not, in the utterance of those lines, pronounce
Murmuring as three complete syllables, or Innume^'
rable as five: in each case, we instinctively and

* Boastful and rough, your first sonJ» a ^squire ;
Th« next, a tradesman, meek, and much a liar*

A 'squire of Wales, whose blood ran higher

Than that of any other ^squire.*,.
If, however, any person prefer the use of syncope, to malie
UtrarchieSf Hi*rarchalf Lfr, High'ffJ am not disposed to coa-
test tba points

Fro$ody. ' 55

imperceptibly make a syncope, which converts Mur^
muring into a trochee^ and Innumerable into an Iam-
bus and fi Pyrrhic, thus -
..Jdumtring; and, with him, fled the shades of

night —
,,annu']*m*rdble I before th' Almighty's throne.

I do not, however, deny, that, on bome very rare
occasions, a real dactyl, tribrachys, or anapaest, may
be productive of beauty, in the w ^y of picturesque
or imitative harmony, i^ut, where there is not some
particular and striking effect of that kind to be pro-
duced by the trisyllabic foot, its admission, instead
of being contributive to harmony or betiuty, gene-
rally proves inimical to both In t^e latter of those
two verses, for instance, it would have beea much
better to load the line with slow heavy spoiidees, for
the purpose of retarding the reader's progress, and
affording hiui time for a leisurely survey of the
countless throng, than to hurry him away on the
wings of a rapid tribrachys, before he has enjoyed
one moment's pause, to cast his eyes around.

In the following line of Milton —
:;Alljadgeraent,whe-l-tAer ill A(?flr'» j orearthor hell-
it is not at all necessary to make a irisyll*abic foot :
we can reduce it to a proper Iambus by pronouncing
wheth'r in, for which *^ve have the authority of
Swift—

And thus fanatic saints, though neith'r in
Doctrine or discipline ouir brethren —
furnishing a hint to adopt a similar expedient in

many other cases, which, at first sight, are calcu-
lated to embarrass the in 'Experienced reader*; as,
for example, in this line of ')rVden —
The care-|-{ul De*\ vUis still | hi bund with means-^
we can easily pronounce DevH is short, as we do
DevUishf and make the third foot an Iambus

On ihe whole, I recommend to my vouog readers,
never, Witl^out irresistible necessity, to make i^trisyU
labic foot in Iambic or trochaic verse. And here I
drop the subject for the present— intending, bow*-
ever, to treat it mort' largely and minutely on a future
occasion — atxd observing in the mean time, that, al-
though I have, in compliance with the ideas of
others, occasionally marked in the *' KEY" a tri-
syllabic foot in Limbic metre, 1 by no means wish
them to consider it as really sucb» but, by shortening
it in the prooufiLciation, to reduce it to an Iambus, a
Trochee, or a Pyrrhic, as the case may require.

The Casura.

As already observed in page S, the CasurA
(which literally means a cutting or division) is a

* Although some instances of synasresis aud syncope, sacb as
I recommend, may, to the English reader,, appear harsh and
portentous, I fed confident that the classical scholar, accustomed
to the much bolder licences of Ilomer, will account these En-
glish licences perfectly moderate and warrantable : and, as Mil-
ton was well versed in Greek and Roman literature, we need
not be surprised that he should, in these as lo many otlier re-^
spectSi bftye copied cLe practice of the ancieuis*

Prosoffy^ 57

pause;, which usually takes place somewhere near
the middle of the verse^ affording a conyenient rest
for the Voice, and enabliug the reader or speaker to
renew the effort necessary for the delivery of the
entire line ; ten successive syllables^ uttered toge-
ther in unbroken tenor^ ,being in general too many
to be pronounced with proper emphasis^ and due
poetic effect.

The most advantageous position for the cssura it
generally held to be after the fourth, fifth, or srxth
syllable, though it occasionally takes place, without
disadvantage, after the third or seventh. Its position
is, for the most part, easily ascertained by the gram*
matic construction and the punctuation, which na-
turally indicate the place where the sense either re-
quires or admits a pause : e gr.
The saviour comes, *B by ancient bards foretold*

(Pope.
From storms a shelter, ' |) and from heat a shade.

(Pop^.
Exalt thy tow'ry bead, * || and lift thy eyes. (Pope.
Exploring, ' jl till they find their native dee|>.(Boyse.
Within that mystic circle, ^ || safety seek." (Boyse*
.When the grammatic coustruction does not re«
quire any pause, and there is no punctuation to mark
the place for the caesura, more accurate discrimina-
tion is requisite to ascertain it : but, even in these
cases, it is, in general, a matter of no diflBcuIty, for
a reader of any judgement, to discover, at first sight;
the proper station for the pause : e. gr«

68 Pp0sody.

Virtue alo^e ^ ![. is happiness below. (Pope*
With all the inceDse ^ || of the breathing spring.

(Pap^
Kor ardent waxriors meet ^ || ''^ with hateful eyes.

(Pope.
Deluded ' |l with the visionary light* (Boyse.
Yet be not blindly guided 7 1| by the throng.

(Koscomnioa.
Sometimes we see the c^sura take place after the
aecond syllable^ or the eighth^ as
Happy ^ II without the privilege of will. (Boyse.
In difF'rent individuals' || we find...(Boyse.
for no reader of taste wonld separate the adjective
from its . substantive in the latter of these ^erses^ or
the preposition from its regimen in the former.

Sometimes^ moreov^r^ the line requires or admits
two paua^f as
JH[is cooks^ ^ y through long disuse, ^ || their trade

forgot. (Diydea.

Caesar^ ^ || the world's great master, ? y and bis own«

• (Pope,
Or pierced, * H with half so painful grief, * |[ your
breast (Dryden,

* I^ hj a (not verj elegant) alteration of the final syllable, this
line were converted loto

Nor ardeut warriors meet With hateful ybf4 —
the cssuru should be made after Warrior$ : but to place it so in
Pope*s line above, would entirely mar and pervert the sense, as
the reader will clearly perceive, on pronoancing the words
mf€t with together m close c^njunotion.

And goodness, ' || like the san^ ^ R enlightens all.

(Boyse
And raise thee, ' H from a rebel, 7 || to a son. (Bojse*
Most perfect,' 11 most intelligent,* || most wise. (Bojse.
From the examples above quoted, and innumerable
others occurring in the works of our most admired
poets, it will evidently appear that the British Muse
is much less fastidious with respect to the caesura,
than the Muse of ancient Rome — or, at least, the
Roman grammarians, who condemned, as " un-verse/*
every line, however well constructed in other respects,
which had not the caesura in such or such particular
position *. In English — thanks to Phcebus and the
Ninel — no siich rigid, pedantic, tasteless la^|piijret
been enacted : poets may make the c»surajJ|ere they
please, and, by widely diversifying its pSj^on, may
give to their numbers a grateful variety,fwhich they
would not otherwise possess. JJryden well under-
stood the value of that advantage, and judiciously
availed himself of it, to a greater extent, perhaps,
than any bard before or since his time.

♦ Ttiese learned gentlemen (as noticed in my " Latin Pros*
ody^ had the modesty to condemn, as not proper verses, er-
tain lines in VirgiFs most polished productions — merely because
the caesora happened not to take place in exact conformity to
their notions !

do Prosody.

A Hint on Song-writing^

in addition to the remarks in page 39, on the me of
the^irr regular or avxiiia/yFeet in Iambic Metre,

Although^ in other species of iambic composition,
the employment of sudi feet be productive of a
pleasing variety, they very frequently produce a very
disagreeable effect in songs intended for music, by
setting the notes at variance >vitl) the words. In
general, the musical composer adapts his notes only
to the first stanza: and, when this is the case, how
frequently does it happen, that, although the tune be
composed with the most consummate skill and taste
for that stanza, it does not suit any one of those
which follow ! The fault here lies, not with the mu-
sician, but with the poet, who has not observed the
necessary uniformity in the structure of his stanzas.
To a songster, therefore, who intends his verses for
music, I would say : Either take no liberties whatever
in the introduction of any other than the regular
feet ; or, if, in the first stanza, you»have any-wherc
introduced a trochee, a pyrrhic, or a spondee, by all
means contrive, if possible, to have a similar foot in
exactly the c6rrespondent part of the correspondent
line in every succeeding stanza. — From inattention
to such minutiae, trifling in appearance, but serious
in their effects, the consequence ensues, that we often
hear those musical flourishes, which, in the first in-
stance, were happily applied to grave, sonorous, em-
phatic syllables, afterwards idly wasted on J, 'i'^^>

Smtg'Writtng. 61

Off r<?, fhf'^f'ing, &c. while syllables 6f the for-
mer degcriptidti are stiuted of their due emphasis,
because they uhltickily happen tg e6rrespond with'
Kgfafty tm^mphatic syllables in the first Stanza,

ef the un pleasing effect produced by that incoti-
gruky, 1 have, in mj <?wn practice, found a striking
XDStance, on' occasion of my undertakings some years
since, to gtatify a lady with a few songs to favorite
old tunes. In my first attempts, though my lines
were written in the same metre as the original, and
(whether good or bad m other respects) were metri-
cally oorpectj they did not at all accord with tl^e
music.^On examination, I discovered the cause to
be an accidental difference between th^ original
verses and my own, in the admission of irregular
feet ; aad,"iw short, I could not satisfy either the lady
or myself, until I had so modified my lines, as to
make them perfectly agree with the original, foot by
foot, and syUable by syllable*

To place this point in a clearer light, let us (sup-
pose the first stanza of Pope's Universal Prayer set
to masic, and the subsequent stanzas sung to the
same tune : then, in these three corresponding lines
of different stanzas —

Fd^ythtr

T!hou\great

To\thee,

Jirst
whose

ev ry age.a...
understood*,
is all space..

an, I %n I

cause fUeast

tem-1-ple

the notes admitting no distinction between long and ^
bhort syllables, between accented and un-accented—
vfe shall hear the corresponding syllables^ Fa^ and

09 Song^Wnitwg.

fSy niilAe ^^cfectljr eqqal in i^uslcaL iQ»p^ctiu)e«i and
th^s^fflte eqaj^i^.e%tablisbe4 )^et;wrea lihert griai^
90d t/£(B — qf^ ^J^Af^rst ^^ m and /3^, &c.

Sach discordaajce between jtbe woirds and the masic
isl,8kv^ry serious direct — an eyil^, which cannot pos-
sibly be obviated by any thing j^bort of perfect luii-
formit;^ in the corie^pQJ^diog feet a^d verses, of the
different stanzas^ unless the^ musical composer ^alL
set the entire piece to music, from beginning toend»
•—The necessity of that, uniformity seems ^. have
been forcibly felt by Horace, thie most accons^plidiied)
songster that ever tuned the Roman lyre : for^. ii^: all
his Sapphic effusions, which are pretty numjei»as»
there occurs not one variatipa. of a single syllabk,
though ijie Sapphic metre would admit some varia«
tions ; and he has, with very few exceptions, observed
the same uniform regularity in every o^her species of
metiie throughout the entire foiur books of his odes.

3A.

EXERCISES.

SCANNING.

IPure Tatniid \}mes of eight st/lhbhs, or fourjeet,
having the accent uniformly placed on the secosd,
fourth^ sixths and e'lghtloi ^llables, as
Begln^ »y \6rdj in e&rly yeMi,
To s^fTer^ ii6y> encofttage^ <r6th.
Tke homer i^ to he tanght to di'cidi tach tine into
fttt, iCnd to fibticlB each syllable, on 7X>fiich the accent
falh. tjtthe pupil tvrit€ out the verses (which would ^
answer a better purpose than the simple act i^ reading
ihem)p the divisions intojeet^ and likewise the aiccenttd
and Mt^ecented syiktbks^ may ieth^ marked-^
B«8!n> I mf I5rd. \ itt ^i^f ypQth,
T8 8ftt'-|-fftr, nay, j encoQ l-rlige truth.
(7%&part of the Exercises, and all as far as p. 75,
is too simple and easy to require notice in the *^ Key/')

Assist me, o ye tuneful Nine,
With etse lo form the flowing Kne.

And oft his voice, in accents isweet,
SkuM friendship's ^soothing sounds repeat*

Aks! thou fcnow'st not, winter drear
In snowy vest nyIII soon appear.

64 V Scanm^.

Thougbiie*er so rick*, we scorn the elf
Whose only praise is sordid pelf.

* Never to rtcA.— 'Some modern grammarians condemn
pbrases of this kind^ as improper^ aiid^ in their steady recom-
mend Ever so,,.,*, I woald very cheerfully subscribe to their
opiniony if I onljf could understand the latter phrase, so as tQ
extract from it a satisfactory meaning : but that, I own, is a task
^hich exceeds my abilities. Forexai^ple: ^ It is a fine day:
viUyou take axcalk ?''— " No : if it were EVER SO fine a day,
I wfnild not go out,*''^To discover the meaning of this reply, I
first consider that Bter signifies Always; and then I understand
it thus—** If it were ALWAYS [from the present moment
to the end of time] asfiiie a day as it n6w t$, J would not go
out this <2ay.''— -Surely this cannot be what is. intended by thost
who use or recommend the phrase : they cannot mean that my
walkmg or not walking this day shall depend on the state of the
wcaiher ten thousand years hence, and that, in the interim, we
sre to have no nights, but, all along, one un>ihternipted £ne
day 1 Yet such is the only meaning that I can discover in tbe
sentence.— But what means Never sof On examination, it will
prove to be a beautiful phrase, and pregnant with energetic
sense. It is, in fact, an elliptic expression, as the French Non-
pares'/, and the well-known English None such, — ^Whcn, for ex-
ample, we say, of a lady, that ** She is a none such" we cer-
tainly do not mean that she is A NONE, or A NOBODY, such
as some other lady^ whose name is charitably suppressed ; but
that she is a woman so good, so fair, (or whatever else may be
her praise) that none such [none equal to her in that respect]
can be found. Let us, in like manner, supply the ellipsis in the
phrase, Never so fine, " If this day were fine to such degree,
that NEVER SO FINE a day has smiled from the heel>ens,
I would not go ott^."— This simple and obvious interpretation
gives us good and satisfactory sense, perfectly according with the

Each heart, in suffering f irtiid'» MMt^
Shall swell amid fbe toud UpplMMi^v

For thee shall bud the p«r{i)e tine^
For thee her sipariiitig jaiM Fefide.

iQvwiable import of the phraee Never t<h*.t y as usmI bj dm best
writers of past days, and^ among others, hy oar translators
of the Bible, who have more than once employed it. Hence its
appears that we may, with equal propriety, and equally strong
aignificancy, use the expression, '* Were she V£V£A io fairy
as ** She i$ a NONE-SUCH;*^ which latter, I believe, no'gram-
marian has yet ?«»tttred to chMi§ii iwki Ont-tUck f xhao^h th(
innoTation might be attempted on equally good [or bad} grounds
in this case as in the former, since Never so, and None-such are
twin phrases, which must stand or fall together. In face, Never
so fair is, as nearly as possible, equivalent to None so fair, and
Nime-tach to Never such; the negative producing, in both
. cases alilse, the effect of asserting that the world lias not [or n«-
ver'] yet possessed her equal.-^^A neiu-ly iitifilfu* idea of unpti*
ralleled, and, as it were, escUtsivefy superlative excess^ was evi«>
dently intended to be conveyed ivy the antiquated furm,^^ who
Oui,;*f as in the following passage of Dryden —

Who now but Arcite mourns his bitter fate ?
i. e. ^ Who can now be at all said to mourn, in comparison with
Arcite ?-^IFi6al grief could ever equal his? — Never «o poignant
grief was felt by human beisg.'^-^In like manner we are to un^
derstand these two other passages of the same poet-—

Who now but Palamon exults with joy ?

Who now laments but Pulamon, compeli'd

No more to try the fortune of the field ?
See the note on « Esceedin^ Md *< Bxceedivsitfj'^ page 38,
r 3

^ Scanning.

To him the jojous hoars I owe^

That Bath's enchanting, scenes bestow*.

With joy I hear the solemn sounds
Which midnight echoes waft around;

The pilot warns^ with sail and oar.
To shun the much-suspected shore.

From nature too I take my ruk.
To shun contempt and ridicule*

How soft the chain^ the bond how sweet;
Where merit, virtue, wisdomi meet !

The man alone is truly great, ^

Who knows to conquer adverse fate*

The louring clouds portend a showV :
With hasty steps I quit the bowV.

The angry storm in thunder roars>
And sounding l^yiow^ lash the shores.

Through woods and wilds, we vagrant roam^
And never reach our destin'd home.

With mingled roar, resounds the wood :
Their teeth, their clawsji distil with bloods

Scanning, 67

Adiea, ye flow'rs, so sweet and fair,
That droop for want of Myra's care.

To humbler strains, ye Nine, descend,
And greet my poor sequester'd friend.

Tyith awe we view thy placid form^
Serene amid the raging storm.

A day as welcome, sure, to you.
As any day you ever knew.

While Ev'ning sheds her balmy dews,
1 court the chaste inspiring Muse*

A cheerless waste before me lay,
Where, wand'ring, soon I lost my way.

When life 's the stake for which we play,
Our lesser * intVests all give way.

* Letur and Worter are condemned by many grammarians^
as barbarisms ; and it must be owned, that, at first eight, thej
might naturally enough be considered as such. But, on more
mioote examination, I humbly conceive, with ail due deference
to the learning and judgement of those grammarians, that the
words may be defended. Our hmguagc is universally allowed
CO be of German origin : and, on tracing the family likeness be-
tween the features of the present English and those of the Ger-
man which gave it birth, it appears to me that the expressions in
question are perfectly legitimate, and entitled to respect, or at

63 Scanningm k

The fox, with prowling fearful mien'^
At ev'ning pac'd t^e dewy green.

My musing solemn way! took,
Where craggy rocks a stream o'erlook.

Mistaken^ fair! thy plaints give o'er.
Nor ever wish for tempting ore ;
For gold t«)o often f)roves the bait,
By which we purchase scorn and hate.

... ■ ■ ■■ ■ ■ . " ' " i ■ M . 1

least to indulgence, as venerable reliques of antiquity. The
termination ER is not here a comparatite terminntioHy any mofe
than in SeU-evy Bvy-er^hc. It has no reference whatever to
comparison ; and, to this day, the Germans add it, for the mas-
culine gender, to the adjective in tiie abstract, as Gut, good-^Ein
guUr umnrif a good man (not a better man); in which cases, it
produces an effect not verj dissimilar to that which it produces
on verbs; that is to say, as £R, added to a verb (Sell, Seller),
designates a man who does wh^t the verb imports, so Bit, added
to an adjective, designates a aian who it what the adjective sig-
nifies. This application, however, is not confined to man alone^
but extends to every masculine noun.->And be it observed, that
Lesser and Worser arc not the onfy examples of that Gkraiani<»n
vrhich have survived the various changes of language in this
island, since we see tlie old adjective Tond still retaining the S3^I«
labic addition ER in Yonder, where no comparison is intended.
Some philologists may be disposed to view in the same light the
adjective Nether, from the antique Neth or Neath [Low], which
we itill retain in Beneath [Be-lozo] : but, as Nether will, in most
cases, admit (though ;je^ absolutely require) a comparative inter-
pretation, I leave it to tlie decision of others.

* Jft^ai^tt.—- Some grammarians have condemned this ex-
pression, though approved by all our best and ino»t accurate

Scanning. £9

And what avails the voice of fame,
The laureled bust^ the deathless name,
The only meed the poet gains.
For all his sorrows, all his pains i

writers, and, in its stead, have recommended Mistaking, Bbt
this Mistaking quite alters the sense, and would^ in many cases,
produce the assertion of a falsehood : e. gr. '* He thought the
law could not reach his crimes : jct he was hanged for them/'
Here a mistaken man was hanged, but not a mistaking man :
for he was under no mistake tit the time of execution; hispr^
vious trial and condemnation having completely removed his past
mislske respecting the law. — Farther, if Mistaken (actively and
adjecctvely used) is to be banished from our language, what is
to become of Sworn, Drunken, Fallen, Grown, JRattcn^ SmoUen,
and some other participles, used in the same manner, and with
acknowledged propriety ? Must we convert a sipom appraiser
into a swearing appraiser, i« e. an appraiser a Jc/ic^eJ to stoear^
ing f — B fallen tower into a /ailing toner, i. e. ninv falling,
though it has fallen several centuries ago? — a drunken man into
a drinking man, i. e. a man noso drinking, though perfectly
sober, and drinking pure wate^ ? a grown man into a growing
fldan, 2. e. a youth or boy of any age or size, growing, up to
manhood, but not yet arrived at his full growth ? — a rotten tree
into a rotting tree, perhaps only just beginning to rot, instead of
being completely rotten throughout? My readers, I presume,
will hardly vote for these preposterous innovations, but wish to
retain the good old forms. Sworn, Fallen, Drunken, ^c Toge-
ther with them, let us also retain Mistaken, and, both in writing
and in speaking, congratulate ourselves on having a few such very
convenient participles of the past tense active, as Come, Gone,
Risen, Sprung, &c. Every classical scholar justly admires the
beauty, the haymony, the conciseness, the perspicuity, result-
ing from the active participles o( the past teases in the Greek

90 Seammg.

A rosy smile o'erspre&ds her ftice e
Her mien assunaes a softer grace :
She waves her snowy band ; and^ see 1
My gentle lyre, she points to thee.
She takes, she tunes my trefiiMiog lyfe ;
And, sweliiog, lo ! the notes aspire.
She strikes the chords ; and, all aroimd,
The list'ning Echoes drink the sound.

Pure Iambic verses of ten st^llables, or jfhe /eei^
having the accent uniformly placed on the seoond^
fourtli, sixth, eighth, mid tenth syUMes, cm

a s6d-l-den blnsh | !nfl5mes | the wa-I-ving sky,
Und now ] the crim-Uson cur-1-tains o-l-pen fly

Again, my Muse, expand thy feeble wing,

And wak^ with bolder towcb^ the trefiibling string.

If e'er with wreaths I'hung thy sacred fane.
Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain.

The cross so strong a red, it sheds a stain.
Where'er it floats, on earth and sea and main.

lan^mge, and r^rets tfamt the Laun has to few of them. Jjet*
not u$, who bav« still fewer, coaaeiit to diminish oar nutA^r,
and thus reduce ottrsetves to the necessity of an aukward ^ri-
pbrase, to express au idea which we can now cooTenientiy com-
prise in a single word* — In the preceding remarks, I have used
ike tersB active^ merely in opposition to passvot^ without re-
gftrding che distinciiofi (unneccAsary in this place) betv^een trans*
itive and intransitire verbs.

He rose, and saw the field deforoi'd with bloody
An empty space, where late the Goocser^ atood.

With these, of old, to toik of battle bred,
In early yjnuth my hardy days I led.

There want not chkfiai in suoh a eaaee to fight ;
And Jove himself sholi goard a monarch'^ nght.

The fltet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow ;
And hissing flew the feaiher'd fates below.

Th' assembly seated-*rising o'er the rest,
Achilles thus the king of men- address'd.

To honor Thetis' son he bends hts eare.
And plaoge the Greeks in all the- woes of war.

The army thus in sacred riles engag^'d,
Atrides still with, deep resentpient rag'd.

A prophet. then, inspired by heav'n, arose«

And points, the crime, and thence derives the woes.

So short a space the light of heav'n to view !
So short a space, and fill'd with sorrow too !

At thisy the sire anbrac'd the maid again.
So sadl// kMftn so lately sought in v«o.

7a Scanning*

While thus, with arms devoutly lais'd in air,

And solemn voice, the priest directs his pray'r.«.

She said ; and, sighing, thus the god replies,
Who rolls the thqndei: o'er the vaulted skies* .

Thy boundless will^ for me, remains in foree;
And all thy counsels take the dcstin'd course.

The thund'rer spoke ; nor durst the queen reply :
A revVeni horror silenc'd all the sky.

Apollo tun'd the lyre j the Muses, round,.
With voice alternate aid the silver sound.

She*ll lead thee on to seek a deathless name,

And snatch the wreath which bidds the browo£Fame.

The Muse astonish'd drops her feeble lyre ;
And baffled art gives way to nature's iGre.

Aghast she started back, and shook with pain^
As rising breezes curl the trembling main.

The tale of woe no longer strikes the ear;
And evVy eye is dried from ev'ry tear.

The pow'r, that bids all cares and troubles cease.
Will kindly crown our future days with peacf .

Scannings 75

His sire's exploits he now, with wonder hears :
The monstrous tales iodulge* bis greedy ears.

She thus in hasty words her grief confess^dy
While Lucy strove to soothe her troubled breast.

Their splendid domes and busy streets declare
Their firmest fort, a king's parental care.

A man he was to all the country dear.

And passing rich * with forty pounds a year.

Iambic verses of eight syllables — in other respects^
pure lafnbics '^ bult containing examples of synmresis,
marked in Italic character,

Reclaim'd, the wild licentious youth
Coofess'd the potent voice of truth.

Beneath an aged oak reclin'd,

The various scenes engroWd my mind,

I saw thy youthful mind expand.
And still the spark of genius fanned.

He bids the piteous tale of woe
In tender cadence sadly flow.

♦ Pasting ricA.— On the syntax of .this passage from Gold^
smith, and of similar phrases, see the note in page 38.

G -

f^ oiOttlfNHijI*

Amid the midlesa Ob of life,
The fltio^ of care^ the ilMais ef 4ti:ife^
In att^ toxtatf»boar$of gtief.
My soul anticipates relief.

Content to court the cooliiig glade^
Inhale the breeae^ enjoy the shade.*..
I^oanxtotis vigils' here I keep;
No dreams of gold distract viy sleep.

Superior worth your rank requires:
For tbat^ mankind reveres your sires.

Prepare the way ; your banners spread ;
Around ambrosial odors shed.

Thy breath inspires the poet's song^
The pa^no^5 free, unbiassed tongue.

The dewy leaves luxurious shed
Their balmy essence o'er his head.

Where'er I go, I play my pari.
And bring a socto/, jotial heart.

I know, as false thy prospects glare.
As flits the meteor through the air.

Th' electric flame of glory runs .
knpefuotff through her hardy sons.

Iambic term of Un ^^l€$^^kf<akiP ndipecii,
pure Iambics -^ ha cimiaifdng txan^ks ^ iifufgrem,
markedin JtaUe character.

Above the boaffdm|r l^f|lo\?s swif|f ^jr. ^^jf,
1^11 now the Qrecian camp appearl^^

Destruc^ton hangs o^r yon devoted, Wftlj,;
And nodding Wan waits t^' ipip^ndj^ fall*

The yoatbs with if ine th$i cgpiom gf>W€^a ^<mf^^A
Aq4^ p^a^'d^ dj^jppis'd tbs,%ijiri|ig bo^U wr^HOldf

To heap the shores with copious death, and bring
Tbfi Greeks to know the cnrse of such a king.

Ttntstrial Joref whose pealing thunders roll
From realm to realfn, from pole to utmost pole.

J Madhouse.
Amid those galPries drear, those doleful cells,
Tbennrelentiog despot, Mem'ry, dwells....
Insatiate Fury clanks his pond'rous chains :

Suspicious Avarice counts ideal gains

While maddest Murder waits the sword to draw,
And Ostenta^ton flaunts in robes of straw.

No more the neck \x\y\dious kerchiefs shade ;
The waist no more the tyrant stays invade.

75 J$€anning.

Bat^ goddess, thou thy supp/iani son attend :
To high Oljfmpji&Ubimng comt ascend.

A zone^ beyond tbe thought of angels bright^
Around him, like the zodiac^ sheds its light.

This ec^iflg^ voice will rend the yielding air :

'' For judgement, judgemedt, sons of men, prepare !*'

Heroic chatnjnoM^ caught the clanon'5 call^ ,

And throng'd the feast in Edward's bannei^'d ball.

tambic tferses qf eight syllables, with a mixture of
other fett besides the Jdmlmj as p(finted out in the

1
I court the Muse, and mark the day
Steal, calm and undisturb'd, away.

2
When shall I have the pow'r to bless.
And raise up merit in distress? '

... .'3 .
See Peace, with all her rural train.
Health, Plenty, Joy, return again.

4
Peace and content would bless each day,
Tbe hour;* serenely glide away....

5
Not all the world can now impart
A charm to glad my drooping heart.

' P • V '•■■ ' '
Wrest from TiA<d^t^vei.I^

Destroy Oppression's iron swaj^

He now feels wants nnknc^f j^ bffot/?.
Wants still increasing with his s^ore*

ft. ..-.■.

Cowards are crnel : hut t^e brayc;.
Love mercjr, and delight to ssLVfij

9 ,

The spring, that gave her bj^ss^^t^s^hirtb^ .
Tore lliem for ever from the earth.

10
The noble pal^s of conquest ^ro^.n
Thegodlike victor with renown^.

11
Hastthon old Greece and |lo^e survey 'ij^.
And the vast sense of Plato wei^'d i

12 - \ . . ,

Lord ! in thy sure protection bkss'dy. '
Submissive will I ever rest..

IS
I mark his trne^his faithful way^
And, in my service, copy Tray.

14
Shall Britain, on her native strand^^
Shrink from a foe's inferior hand ?

15
Thus ev*ry object of creation^
Can furnish hints to Contemplation.;..

78 Si^^nnif^,

Amdf from the most minute and meah^
A virtuous mind can morals glean.

16
Heedless of intVest, many an boor*
He loses in the myrtle bpw'r.

17
Yon towering oak^ extending wide,
Pi^vokes destruction by its pride.

18
Teach me to bless my lowly lot.
Confined to this paternal cot.

19
The gentle Zephyrs, as they fly.
On balmy wings, shall bear a sigh.

«© ^

Each youth of martial hope shall feel
True valour's animating zeal.

Si . '
Who dwells in yonder little cot.

And envies not the monarch's lot ?

. 22 .

She softly breathes, *' Ah ! sigh no more :

" Thy Nelson gains th* Eljsian shore."

23
See, rushing from the farm and fold.
Her sons in glory's lists enroll'd.

24
O Goddess ! yet assert thy claim^
And vindicate thy injur'd name.

More fatal than the Siren's song

■ - 4 .■■»,■■, - —

* See the xiinarks on " Muni/ a,** in page 52.

Seaming. 79

The crafty fl^ttVer^s wily toi\gue.

Some love the clash of hostile arms.
The trumpet's clang, the camp'$ alarms.

£7
Here faithful mem'ry may review
The scenes that time can ne'er renew.

' ■ ■ 'qS'
Once time is past, we call in tain.
No tears can bring it back again.

«9
Wanton in Sol's meridian ray.
Sip nectar from each bloomy spray.^

30
Thy glitt'ring pinions rharm mine eyes,
Stain'd with bright ))eauty'8 brilliant dies.

'31 ^
The thought would mar thy present joy,
Mix with thy bliss a base alloy.....

32
Though blest with friends, with youth, and health.
And all the gay parade of wealth...*.

33
The records of departed worth
To noblest sentiments give birth.

34
Down in the green sequester'd shade.
The streamlet pours its clear cascade.

35
Possessed of all the charms that grace

t0 Seanmng^

The brightest of the le^a}^ rac9«

96
I fiod iD thee a tc^n(||er fri^Qd^
In thee a patroq ^q cjefjeipcL

In ev*ry eliine^ froifl pok^ to pofe,
Where wiod can hlQw or I^^UJay; rqj^
Britannia's barks the coast exp^ore^
Waft science, peace, ^nc! ple^Qtj o'c^

Improving and improved, they '4,leara
New charms in wisdoni^ to ^ifiQf n^t

Yon cherish feelings too refin'4'
For him wlio mingfejp^ with nutnHin^

40
He rises from his sleepless bed^
Hk soul convujs'd witl^ secr^( 4r^a4

41
His iocome regularly spent/
H? sfiWJft^y, sayes to p^ hU rep^

4^
A temper afiable and kind,
A noble and a gen'roos mim^*

^ 49. .
Although I long have rack'd uqk brains^
Tve nought but labor focmy pfun^/

44
In terrors clad, thy foes suiround^.
Andhttri thy turrets to the g^p^nd*.

Scannings $1

46 . - •
Nor blasting envy's tainted gale .
Pollutes the pleasures of the vale.

46
She 's prompt to shed the pitying tear.
To Mercy and to Virtue dear,

47-
A coarh and four, Xo take the air^
Besides a chariot, and a chair.

4a
His head was silver'd o'er with age ;
And long experience made him sage.
In summer's h( at and wmter's cold.
He fed his flock, and penned the fold.
His hours in cheerful labor flew.
Nor envy nor ambition knew.
His wisdom and his honest fame
Through all the country rais'd. bis name. -

49
The shepherd modestly replied:
I ne'er the paths of learning tried ;
Nor have I roam'd to foreign parts.
To read mankind, their laws, and aria....}
Who by that search shall wiser grow,
When we ourselves can never know ?

58
The prostrate game a lion spiesj
And on the greedy tyrant flies.

51
So shineg his light befcMPe mankind^

Ifl Scanning*

His actions prove his honest miod.

52
He never needs the screen of lies,
Hts inward bosom to disguise. '

Wild fancy forms unnamber'd woes :
To end bis life the maniac goet*..«.
Forward I rush'd, aod.s€us^d:fais.armf
And forc'd him back^ secure from h^i^m*

54 — England*
O happy isle ! thy ff^rtile plains
Repay with golden sh^Aves the sw^oft ;
Thy verdant vale^^ a^d moimtams steep.
Are whiten'd o'er^rith fle^y iBb^f|i.

Dear rural scenes! the t«f^d t|ii^
Theflow']^ mead, bi^Vf cb^mi forme.
That far exceftd tfee. jpjf.of eonxtife
Where splendid misVy oft resort^.;
Where grief, disguis'd, lijke joy appm%
And hollow smiles bijcif; staOJii^ tcf|rp.

Much rather l^taie at^m tb^ i^^.
Without a heln my \m\. to gi}}^%
The sport of wavesi aQd>ficklt.^ivi%
Than trust to such capricious minds,
Where whim and pai^ipii hoHthQ rj^iu.
And slighted reason pl^ad^i9,vs^9«

57
F<md memory o'er thy gx%v^ 4i$l gire
A tear, to bid thy virtees Uve«

Scmning. SA

58
Still o'er the genial hours of spring
Fell Dkcord waves her crimsoa wibg :
<yer bleeding Europe's ravag'd plains^
The fiend, in state terrific, reigns;
Nor oaten pipe, nor past'ral song.
Resounds her waving woods among.
Yet far firom Albion's tranquil shores
The storm of desolation roars.

S9
Mow ev'ry brilliant moment seems
Replete with fancy's airy dreams.

60
Not from the warrior's laurel leaves
The votive garland now she weaves.

61
Beneath thy fost'ring reign b^hign,
O^st of kings ! let meicy shine.

From scene to^icene we rove and smile ;
Fond Hope our leader all the while*
We fear no brooding storms of caic;
We dread no spell, no murd'rous snare«

Iambic Verses of Sen syllables, vnth a ndjAute of other
feet besides the Iambus.

; 6a

She points to Honor and her gdrgeous train^
But shows not disappointment, Want, and pafO«

84 Scanning.

64
Bewilder'd Pride the swelling crest uprears,
And causeless Penitence is drown'd in tears.

65
A second Paradise our senses greets^
And Asia wafts us all her world of sweets,

06
Alrefidy, see! each schoolboy, ^prentice, clerk,
Assumes the pistol, and demands the Park.

67 ^ :-

Nor deem, that all, the tuneful chords who strike.
Are curs'd with base ingratitude alike.

68 — Canute.

He vainly bade each boist'rous wave retreat, .
Nor tinge the surface of his royal feet.

69
But ah ! how chang'd! The Muse, that once was gay.
And wanton laugh'd the dancing hours away.
No more shall winder o'er the flowery plains.
Or waken Echo with her rural strains-

70
See, most tremendous ! o'er his beardless face,
Th' enormous beaver, cocked with SQidier grace,
Aslant and edgewise confidently hurl'd.
Inviting broils, and braving all the world.

71
Though my dejected spirits pant for breath,
And my soul flutters on the verge of death

7«„
And why should such (within herself she cried)

Scanning. 85

Lock the lost wealth, a thousand want beside?

73
One tranquil eve, when Sol had sunk to rest.
And gilt with splendid tints the glitt'ring west.
Their daily task perform'd, this loving pair
Walk'd forth, to breathe the pure salubrious air,

74
Friends, country, children, wife, no more restrain ;
And fate and nature boast their laws in vain.

75
Flush'd with revenge, each miscreant drew his dart,
And plung'd it in the constant Oran's heart.

76
Alas I Hope's rain-bow visions, how they fade !
How sbon the sun-bright landscape sinks in shade !

77
Go, seek distress ; explore the tents of woe :
Bid the wan cheek with rosy tints to glow.

. 78.
To Eve's fair daughters various virtues fall:
But thou,-lov'd charmer, hast exceli'd them all.

79
Blest she descends into the vale of ye^rs.
With the lov'd partner of her youthful cares.

80
Smiles oft are fraudful ; beauty soon decays ;
But the good woman shall inherit praise*

81
Rouse all thy pow'rs, for better use design'd j

And know thy native dignity of mind.

66 Scamuf^*

82
Such were the hours^ and such the scenes that charm'd:
So nature glow'd, and so her beauties vic^um'd.

83
The glow of youth blooms lovelj in his face,
And fills each active limb with manly grace.

84
The wrinkled matron opes her.treasor'd store
Of fairy tales and legendary lore.

85
Their tyrant rule has blighted all thy time^
And marr'd the promise of thy early prime.

86
Her love instructs a fair and numVous race
To share his glories, and supply his place.

87
See, with what calmness, what contempt of breatb;
The sons of Newgale hear the doom of death. |

88
Why pass in slavery here the lingering hours,
While Oran dwells in amarantine bow'rs i
Where rivers of delight for ever flow.
And blusliing fruits on trees immortal grow;
Where no rude tempests howl, no storms arise;
Where suns eternal gild the genial skies,
Unfading flovv'reis deck the verdant plains.
And sprinj in gav profusion ever reigns.

Fain would the Muse each beian^us plant rebearsi
And sing their glories in immortal verse*

90
Oh ! heed not, yoatb> yon Siren's 'wkdimg Uj :
Fly from her tempting accents : fly away.
False are her sonnds, her visions vain^ though bright-*-
A flitting rainbow's varied transient light.

91
Each manly sense^ each charity refin'd ;
Whatever illumines or exalts the mind.

92
For wisdom fam'd, for probity renown'd^
She sits in council^ with br^ht faoa(»: crown'd.

93
Peace crowns our cities, plenty loads our plains;
And sether rings with gratukting strains.

94
Greater than be who vanquished first the maio^
Th« Persian with a mi}lk)n in his train.
Himself soon vanquish'd by the Grecian chief.
And homeward sent in solitary grief.

95. — Epitaph on an Infant.
Repose in peace^ sweet babe ! this still domain
Gives no admission to the tyrant, pain.
Thy noblest part^ thy spotless soul, is flown
To scenes where dread misfortunes are unknown.

96
At length thy long-lost liberty regain :
Tear the strong tie, and break th' inglorious chain :
Freed from false hopes> assume thy native powVs,
And give to Reason's rule thy future hours.

dS - Spinning.

To her dominion yield thy trusting so^ul^

And bend thy wishes to her strong control.

97
Pleas'd have I oft our little babe caress'd.
And vie\¥^d him smiling at his mother's breast. ^

98 ' .
Early slie rises^ ere bright Phcebus shines^
And to her damsels sep'rate tasks assigns.

99
If to her farm some field contiguous lies.
With care she views it^ and with prudence buys.

100
Benignant, from her ever open door.
She feeds the hungry, and relieves the poor*

101
Hope promis'd future bliss without alloy.
And Fancy's pencil pictured scenes of joy.
^Ah, gilded Tiaions ! fleeting, as they're fair !
How soon those day-dreams vanished into air ! .

lOS
Yes, Europe's polish'd sons approve the plan
That fetters and enslaves their fellow man....
The wretched captive leaves his native shore.
Ne'er to behold his much-lov'd country more.

103
Soon will misfortune their bright hopes destroy,
Aud dash with gall the mantling cup of joy.

104
Nature would dvoop in everlasting night,
Unblejss'd by Solj great source of heat and light.

Setuming. 89

105
When tyrant Frost bis strong domioiMi holds.
And not a blade expands, a bud unfolds......

"When gathered thunders burst abrupt and loud.
And midnight lightening darts from cloud to cloud.
Or rends, with forceful Hiomentarj stroke.
The ivied turret and the giant oak.
Can faint remeoibraiice of meridian mirth
Bedeck with visionary charms the earth i

106
She calls grim phantoms firom the shadowy dcep^
And sends her Furies forth to torture sleep.

107. — Tke kidnapped Negro ffoman.
Excess of grief forbade her tears to flow :
She stood a living monument of woe.
No tender friend was near> with kind relief
To calm the wild extravagance of grief:
No pity could the hapless maiden (ind :
No scenes of sorrow touch the brutal mind.
Th' inhuman villains bore their prize away,
And gain'd the harbour where the vessel lay.
Conveyed on board, she join'd a numVous band
Of fellow captives, riinion'd hand to hand.

108. — A Slave^Ship.
There husbands, torn from ail their hearts held dear.
Id sullen silence drop the fruitless tear.
Fond mothers there, to gloomy grief consign*d.
Mourn for the tender babes they left behind.
Heart-cheering hope forsook tiie horrid place ;
And desperation lour'd in ev'ry face.

90 Scanning.

109
The undertakers say^ on corses fed,
" Ah ! there's no man of value, till he 's dead.*

no. — IVtte Beauty.
What is the blooming tincture of the skin,
To peace of mind, and harmony within ?
What the bright sparkling of the finest eye,
Tb the soft noothing of a calm reply ?
Can comeliness of form, or shape, or air.
With comeliness of words and deeds compare ?
No ! those at, first th' unwary heart may gain :
But these> these only; can that heart retain.

VERSIFICATION.

Lines to be made into Iambic Verses of eight sylla-
bles, or four feet, with the accent on the second^ fourth,
sixth, and eighth syllables: — each line to make one
verse ; and the two lines of each couplet to rhime with
each other.

Ill

And, while I feel thy gracious gifts.
My song shall reveal all thy praise*

112
Bless'dwith freedom, at early dawn,
O'er the verdant lawn -I wander,

113
Unheard I mourn, I sigh unknown^
Live unfriended, die unpity'd.

114
The fleecy mothers stray'd below ;
And thdr sportive lambkins play'd round.

11.5
My friend, thy days flow serenely,
Nor know any interruption.

116
Tke search shall teach thee to prize life.
And make thee good, wise, and gratefuU

92 Fersi/lcation

117
The flock fly in wild disorder.
And cast a frequent eye behind.

118 •

At last the contest rose so high,
From words they almost came to blows*

119
Religion'^ beams shine around thee.
And cheer thy glooms with divine light.

120
Henceforth I go to rural haunts.
Through winter's snow and summer's heat.

121
Thou fly'st to scenes where Joy and Youth
Employ their time with Love and Mirth,

122
With ease you wear a thousand shapes ;
And still you pleasedn ev*ry shape.

123
Leander bow'd to Hero's eyes :
Her cheek glow'd with yielding blushes.

124
The Muse, ever true to merit,
Prepares the meed doe to Valour.

125
We raise the choral song to thee.
To whom belong sublimer strains.

126
Supine beneath embow'ring shades,
In wine he loves to drown his c^res.

Versification. 95

1S7
The impatient. steed spurns the ground :
The fuU-toflM horns sound harmonious.

Neither wealth I pursue, nor pow'r,
Nor hold in view forbidden joys.

129
And will you then conceal this wealth.
For time to steal, or age to rust i

130
Observant eyes confess her ways :
Pursuing praises bless her steps.

131
The tim'rous breed knew the robber.
And flew o'er the meadow, trembling.
The wolf o'ertook their nimblest speed,
And courteous thus bespoke the dam.

13« ^
The genial hours and fragrant airs*
Were shedding dews apid flowVs round him :
Aurora pass'd before his wheels ;
And last was Hesper's golden lamp.

133
Their board is crown'd with flow'rs by thee;*
. Their walks resound with songs by thee;
Their sprightly mornings shine by thee.
And evening hours decline in peace.

♦ N. B. Thee, thee, terminating two successive line«, will not
make allowable rhime.

94 Ftn^caiion.

Iambic Versa of eight syllables^ with a mixture cf
dSffhrentfeet.

134
Repose, sweet babe ! cease thy crying :
For thine 's an age of peace and trnth.

135 '

Without another word, this fact
Might afford a. useful les^n.

136
Ever bound to one dear object,
I*ever search around for that.

Thousands bend, ff&efe'er she passes ; ^
And thousands attend where she liioyes.

138 '

The flow'rs, disclosed in early bloOttij
Repos'd upoa her. fragrant breast*

139
A mother may forsake her son :
But I will ne'er break my coTenant.

140
As a simple swain, one ev'ning,
Attended his flock on the plain.
He chanced to spy the shining bow,
Which warns us when a show'r is nigh.

141
From the north if Winter bellow.
The sweet Spring soon comes forth dancing.

142
Disputes are far too long^ though sbort>
When both are in the wrong alike.

143
Ye great and rich^ shut not your hearts
Against the wand'rer at your gate.

144
Must I still complain of thy powV,
And arraign thy too partial hand ?

145
But must the kind and the gentle
Find thy fury, undistinguish'd i

146
Yet base and cruel I am call'd^
Who seek to release the wretched.

147
The fox, vers'd in deeper cunning,
Rebears'd the beauties of her mind.

148
Now mounting high, now sinking low.
The sailors cry, '* We're lost ! weVe lost 1** -

149
Who would combine mirth and wisdom.
Should confine his stint to three cups«

150
While I thus prolong roy stay here,
The silent night steals along, swift.

151
Now toil, thirst, and hunger, combined,
To wring her mind, and oomb her Ihnbs.

96 Versification.

152

Maiur'd to happier days, he may
Repay your care with filial love.

153
The cares that fill thy tale^ are past :
/ bewail my present troubles*

154
But ah ! what dismal and dim shade
Casts o'er the glade this strange horror i

155
But now the rugged North no more
Pours forth half her population.

ThroHgh the thick mist of fears and doubts,
How hideous appears Death's fair form !

157
Lovely Health ! divinest maid ! come,
And lead me through the rural shade. ;

15S
'Tis he, who still keeps his promise,
Though he sleeps wrapped in Death's cold arms.

159
Howe'er depressed or exalted.
Be the feeling breast ever mine.

160
Alike, the vain and the foolish
Are strangers to the humane sense.

161
Fiird with grief's distressful train, life
For ever asks the humane tear.

162
Oh I woman ! loveliest work of heav'n !
Giv'n for man's solace and lAelighl.

163
Now the eastern breeze, soft risibg^
Plays through the qiiiT'ring trees, rustling.

164
If you scan all nuture's system,
Man is the only idle thing.

165
Discourse like this daitn'd atttation :
Grandeur inflamVi the motber^s breast.

166
So saying, he flies on the lamb.
The victim dies beneath his jaws.

167
Each well-known scene now appeals dead,
The meadow greeti, the glassy brook.

168
They soon shall leam humility.
And discern their own emptiness*

. 169
The watchman cried, '* Past tw^lre o' clock i"
The studious lawyer plied his brief.

170
The wretch shook with thrilling horror ;
Pale his look, and loose ev'ry joint.

171
Lend to wiser heads attention,
And from a friend leam this leftson. ^

98 Verrijlcatkn^

17« t

Still share my bosom with the Mdsei .
And soothe corioding care to peace*

173
So shall he discern rightfrom.wrong.
And learn mer^y from oppressioo. .

174
Be thou the vessers guide, kind heay'ii :
Divide the whelming waves for her.

175
Thy kindness knows no ebbing tide :
It flows like some perpejtual stream.

176
'Tis thine to dwell, s^eet modest flow'r !
In the thorny dell, secluded.

177
Carus, worn with pain and sickness^
Sighs for moruj^ and chides the slow night«

■ 178 ■ ,
I raise my s6ng in bolder noteS|
To praise the deeds of Hercules*

179
When altars were dressed to his nmnej.
His tears con Fess'd that he was man.

180
I survey with indignatioti. ;
Such judgement and skill thrown awdjT.

18JI . . ^

The sublimd Heliconiaii fount
Flows in rhiaie marvelpusl;^ jvelL

Vernation. 99

182
Suspend your follies, if you can,
And from a friend^ learn instruction.

183
We toil to find a happiness.
Which, like the wind, still avoids us.

184
His light dissolved those mists and clouds,
Which long involved t>ur dark nation.

185
They say, a poor astrologer
Went out, one luckless day, to walk.

186
While such pursuits engage your thoughts, '
You'll live an age in a few years.

187
And titn^, which renioves all things else^
Still heightens and improves virtud^ .'

188
He who is a fool at fifty,
fs grown far too stubborn for school. .

189
Let pthers shine in foreign spoils :
Intrinsic excellence- is thine.

190
I descried a smiling-l^ndicape,
Dress*d in the robesof summer pride. ,

191
Oh ! take me to some peaceful dell,^ .* - .
To dwell with sweet content and thee. -

Might and day had now alrea^
Held an equal swa^ o'^r the wofld.

193
Thy deep abode is tremendou^^
And the fury of thy flood dire, ^

194
And now, at thy side, imnptorta]^
The beauteous capti^jr^d bride still blooois.

. 195
The surgy din grows still }ouder;
The gale blows with wilder fury.

196
Ample pow'r and wealth attend me ;
And my realms extend o'er the plains.

197 .
Alas ! thy page, poor Ziiomerfflann !
Betrays thy age and iiidoleQ^e.

198
Disabled in the race, and tir'd.
Ambition's fruitle$4 chase I quit.

199
The British banner fii^s aloft
To the skies in triumphant fold^.

The Lesbian lute can charm no mox^,
Nor warm my once-paating bosom.

«01
Not that those prisei ahine with me ;
F6r neither fame is nune^ nor wealths

^ Fersificatiom 101

202 ^ '

Ask, of heav'n, virtue, health, wisdom ;
But never let wealth he thy pray'n * . .

£03 -

Still there remains oue more Iabor>
A greater perhaps than before. • . .

204
Fear precludes the light,, like a fog, ' » *

And swells the object to the sight.

205 : V .
Honorio turns from side to side; - . ^'
And now burns lylth insatiate thirst.

206 »

This frightful monster came from hell t

Guilt was his name, and Sinlsis sire» '

207
Let virtue be ever my guide^
And preside o'er my secret thoughts.

208
The lucid waves roll aloog, soft.
And gently break among the rocks ;
Explore the strand in playful lapse,
And waft to shore a pallid corse.

> 20»
To foreign climes why do you roam.
To study modes, times, and nations^-*
A science often bought dearly.
And often what nought avails yon i

210
If heav'o, wise io ev'xy purpofie,
I 8

Denies the envied lot of weaIth,«^M.
Still true to tl^ee, HamiulHjF^
The good I cannot .c|% I'll m^

«11
Our pleasures must ^eoay shertlyjp
And vanish away with ourselves ;
But virtue shall sustain the soql^
And soothe each figonising pfiii^

See terrific Mars advance next^
Who joys in wars, uproar^ |uin>-p-
Fear, Flight, Fury, mtfod bfside bim.
Prompt to fulfill his dread cooHll^nd.

The summer paat thus in pte^ty ;
At last revolving winter came.
The tre^ no more yield ^ sbeUer s
The verdure withers from the fi^ld.

214
Array'd in white, plain InqooeQae
/ Lifts her fearless be^d before thee ;
Religion's beams sbiae ground the^.
And cheer thy glooms with divine lighl;

215
The flow'rs, that deck th^ field, are sw^et* :
The smell, the blossoms yield, is sweet ;
The summer gale, that.bjows, is sweet'; :
And the rose sweet, though sweeter you*

- ■■ ' ■ *■ '■ . , M . .^ ■.■■■■■■■ I .I..!

* N. B,Sw€€t,„.swul, wplaf t4>€ aUfiwaUe iliiiBe.'

216
When Zephyrs atroqr o'er the hlossc^m.
And coDvey sweets alon^ the air,
Sba'n't / inhale th^ fragir^at breeze.
Because ^pu breathe a sweeter gale i

217
The much-admiring crowds awe^^struck^
Bow'd before the virgia vision ;
Gaz'd with an ev^r new delight^
And^ at the sight, cangtit fresh virtue.

218
A fearful, profound, and Uaok gulf
Appears, the bound of either wprld,
Leading up to lights through darkness^
Sense shuns the sight, and shrinks backward*

219
With silent tread fate steals alpng,
Oft'nest found in what we dread least,
Frowns with angry.brow in the storn^^
But strikes the blow in the snn^hiqf.

2«Q
All external things combir^e no\v
To make thy days shine uuclonded ;
And kindjy has providence shed
On thy head its choicest blessings*

Near him stood his fi^v'rite spanid.
And shar'd hid food with his master.......

Till, sated, he now lay supine,
And fuofd away the rising fumes.

104 Fers^cation*

The noblest minds prove their virtue
By love, sympathy, and pity.
These, these are truly fine feelings,
And prove their owner half divine.

I reach my native plain once more,
Where reign all the peaceful pleasures :
My longing eye devotrrs once more
Her shady bow'rs and crystal stream*

224
Grown restive by long indulgence.
She minded no will but her own.
She'd oft scold and fret at trifles,
Then take a seat in a comer.
And, moping all the day sourly.
Disdain alike to play or work.

225
Divines confess that life's a game ;
This says, at cards, and that> at chess.
But, if we centre our views here,
I fear Ms all a losing game.

226
The furious god of war too long
With his iron car has crushM us.
Along our ruin'd plains has rag'd.
With his cruel stains has soil'd them.
In endless sleep.has sunk our youtb^
And made the widow'd virgin weep.

0,^7.— Virtue
I tell unwelcome truths, indeed :
Bat mark well my aacred lesson:
Whoever lives at strife with me,
Loses^ for life^ bis better friend :
Who lives in friendship's tie^ with ipe^
Finds all that 's soi^tfor by th? wi$e,

I keep^ with watdiful diligence.
His fleecy sheep fj»HQ(iprawliQg wolve>;
Secure his midnight hours at home.
And drive from his door the rc^ber.
His breast glows with kiadoess for tlu^* :
His band bestows th^ food fox thi&»

A long farewell toi Britain's isle^

Where pleasures dwell, and plenty smiles 1

Ye woods all waving wide, farewell^

Ye vales attir'd in summerV pride^

Ye tow'rs, that rise in. air proudlyjt

Ye cots^ so fair and -so cleitoly 1

230
But, if thou com'st with austere frown.
To nurse the brood of fear aind cav^ft. •
Wisdom, I disclaim thine empire.
Thou empty boast of pompous naawe I
Dwell in gloomy shade of e)ai,s|ers j
But never haunt my cheerful celL

* Thi$^,,thiSf cannat be adodtted as fmper rliiflif.

J 06 Venifkation.

231
Let me but hopq content from weafth.
Still rememl/ring it uas but lent ;
Spread my store to modest merit.
My hospitable door unbar,
Nor feed an idle train for pomp,
While unpitied vvant'sues in vain,

2S£
A prowling cat spies the sparrow.
And expands her amber eyes wide.
Grimalkin draws near and more near;
She protends her claws, wags her tail ;
Then, springing on her thdoghtless prey.
She hilars away the shrieking bird, '

£33' ; *
No costly paintings gracie toy room^ :
The humbler print smpplies thdr place.
My garden lies b«hr«d the house.
And o|.ens to the sotfthern skies. '
The distant hills yield gay prOspects> '■
And, in ev*iy field, plenty^smiles. '

234 .
Would'st thou bind the genVous lioaf
Bribe him to be kind by kindness.
He gives with muhiplying hand
The good he receives from others.
Or makes fair return for the bad.
And pays scorn for scorn, with intVest.

The lovei that, cheers life's latest stage.

Proof agaiDflt old age and sicknesSj**,.
Is kind, delicate, and gentle.
Compassionate or blind to faults^
And will endgre with sympathy
Those evils it would cure gladly.

. £36
The prudent nymph, whose cheeks disclose
The blushing rose and the Jily,
Will screen tier charms fronx public view.
And rarely be seen in the crowd*

.237
Oppress'd with heaviness and toil.
Seek not the flow'ry bank for r€;st.
Though the bow'ring woodbine spread there
O'er thy head its fragrant shelter,
Though Zephyr should long linger there,
To hear the sky-lark's tuneful song.
Heedless youth, thou shalt awake ther^
The vengeance of the coiling snake.

(258; — To Zimmermann^ on SQlitudet
Fond enthusiast, cease to obtrude.
The love of solitude on. man : ,
Cease, cease, with faint, and gay colons^ - ,

To paint that sickly nymph's retreat.
Her slothful ease and silent shades ,
May please the old and impotent ;
But the brisk eye and firm muscle
Shall fly at distmice from her haunts, , .

As die maid now grew in stature, .

108 fersificattoH.

(A flow'r ju8t op*tting to the vie^)

She oft stray'd through her native lawns.

And play'd with the lambkins, j^restling.

Her looks bequeathed diffusiye sweets :

As she breatb'd, the bree're grew ptirer :

The morn assumed her rosy blush :

The spring bloomM with earlier fra^anfce;

And nature took delight yearly

To dress the world in Wftite, like her.

£40
The morning bhish'd ; the shades were fled ; ^
The winds were htTsh^d in their caverns; ^
When Hymen, sedate and penrive.
Held his musing gait o^er the ^Ids.
Through the green-wood shade, bfehitid him>
The god siflrveyM Death's meagre form,'
Who, with gigai)tic stride, quickly
Outwent his pace, and joined his side.
The chat ran on various subjects.
Till angry liymen began thus.

U\.-^Toaltedbreast.
From icy sprays and snbwy' plains.

From sunless days and moonless nights,

Helpless, panting guest ! thrice welcome !

In my breast I'll Fondly warm thee

A captive's doom thou need'st not dread.
No ! flutter round my room freely....
At my lonely meal, no longer
I'll feel alone, while thou art by :
For^ devoid of all distiiist, soon

ren^^toHan. 109

Thou'lt share my humble oru#t^ nibUiag;....

Heedless of the raving, blasts tbasy

Till winter 's past> thou'lt dwell with tM.

242
Friend ! forbear^ o'er this s^pulere^
The pitying tear, the plaintive sigh*
My death supplies no just pretence
To dim thine eyes, or heave thy l»-east*
Grac'd with children's chydren» one Wife
Walk'd down the vale of life wi& me.
My joyous bands three blooming yout(»
Entwin'd in Hymen's blissful bands*...*
I shed, through life, no streams of grief
O'er child or grandchild, dead or sick.
To my departed shade, by them,
The rite was paid, the tear wa^ pour'd :
Convoy'd to eternal rest thus.
Supremely blest in life, in death.

243
In triple row, the pine^apples
Were basking hot, and all in blow.
A bee of most discerning taste.
As he pass'd, perceiv'd the fragrance.
The spoiler came on eager wing.
And search'd in the frame for crannies,
Urg'd his attempt on cv'ry side.
Applied his trunk to ev'ry pane.
But still in vain : tight was the 'frame.
And pervious to the light only.
HaTiDg wasted half the day thus>

110 Vernation.

Another way he trimm'd his flight.
Methinks I find in thee/ said I,
The madness and sin of mankind*
Man aspires to forbidden joys,
With vain desires consumes his soul ;
Folly the spring of his pursuit.

And all the fruit, disappointment.

Such are often our dear delights^
To view, but not to touch, expos'd.
The sight inflames our foolish heart ;
We long for pine*apples in frames.

244
The prophet of the Turk says thus,
** Abstain from pork, good musselman.
In ev'ry swine, there is a part.
No friend of mine or follower
May taste, whate'er his inclination^
On pain of excommunication.*'
Such Mahomet's mysterious charge ;
And he left the point at large thus.
Had he express'd the sinful part.
They might eat the rest with safety :
But they thought it hard, for one piece.
To be debarred from the whole hog.
And set their wit at work, to find
What joint the prophet had in mind.
Straight arose much controversy :
These chose the back, those the belly.
Tis confidently Said by some.
He meant not to forbid the bead ;

Firsification. Ill

While others rail at that doctrine^

And piously prefer the tail.

Thus, conscience freed from ev'ry clog,

Mahometans eat the hog up..

You laugh ! 'tis well, — ^The tale, applied.

May make you laugh on t'other side.

The preacher cries, " Renounce the world."

A multitude replies, " We do;"

While one regards, as innocent,

A friendly and snug game at cards,

And, whatever you may s?iy, one,

In a play, can see no evil.

Some love a race or a concert.

And others the chas« or shooting.

Revird and lov'd, followed and renounced.

The world is thus swallow'd, bit by bit.

My course is sped in youth's soft prime ;
Yet many a flow'r has spread my path.

246
If presumptuous foes dare invade.
Our country cries for aid to us :
Our children spread their hands to m:
We guard the nuptial bed fr^^ai wrong.
From uSy who feel the joys of home.
The vengeful steel falls like lightning.

1I« Vtr^fi^Hon.

Iambic verses oftm syUabks*

247.
As Orpheus* tunes his song in TTiracian wilds^
The laptur'd beasts throng around bim in crowds*

* Orpheus* — ^This word contains only two syllables. In Orpheug,
Theieus, Proteus, and a very numerous list of Greek names of
similar termination, the EU is a diphthong, as in Europe, Ett^
charist, l^ulegy, Euterpe, &c. In the original Greek, it is tii-
variahly a diphthong : in Latin^ likewise, it is %lmo*t always ae ;
for the examples of diaeresis in such names are so wry fern, «•
not to merit the slightest attention. This I can safely yentoie
to assert, after the pains which I have bestowe()^ in annate^
searching through the entire collection of the ancient Latin
poets, for authorities and examples of every kind, to be inserted
in my " Latin Prosody :" and let me further observe, that Mil-
ton, Dry den. Pope — in short, every English poet, who had aaj
pretensions at all to classical knowledge, has paid due regard t9
classic propriety in these cases, by making the £(7a diphthong.
I therefore advise my young readers carefully to avoid, in prose
as well as in poetry, the gross impropriety oP dividing the EUS
of Orpheus, &c. into two syllables, and always to pronounce it
as a single syllable, nearly like the French verb Eutse, or tEs
English noun Use. At the same time be it remembered that
PeneUs and AlphiUs (the names of two celebrated rivers) are tci-
syllabic words, and have the middle syllable long and accented.
— ^There are several other Greek names in EUS, which have the
JS-27 in separate syllables, with the E long and accented in some
instances, and in Mothers bhort end un-accented : but to enume-
rate and diioriminate them would be a tedious and laborious
tarit. Hmotheus, however, and Briareus, seem to require parti-

Femfication. US

248
Tiie mountain seeois to throw a sable gldom^
Shades the glen below, aad imbrowns the steep.

cular notice — Timotheus conttiins Jour distinct syllables: and,
altboDgh Dr^den has, by poetic licence, used it as three, in tlie
following and some other fines of his " Alexander's Feast —

** Revenge i revenge I Timotheus cries" —
it is clear that he did not consider it ns a proper trisyllabic ;
because, in such case, he must have accented it on tlie first syl-
lable, like its English offspring, Timotht/ ; the second being ori-
ginally short, and our usual mode of pronunciation forbidding us
to place an accent on a short penultimate; whereas, in Ti-mo*
the^us, the syllable •illO'^ b«ing then the antepenultimate, natu-
rally admits the accent, which he has correctly preserved* In
his lines, therefore, (the EU not being a diptlithong) the EUS
is not to be pronounced like the French Eusse, as in Orpheus,
Froteus, &c, but like the EOUS in our English BeauteouSy
which, though in reality a word of three syllables^ is usually pro-
nounced as ^070, by synsresis. — In Briareus, the case is di^e-
rent: the £U'is here a proper diphthong: the word contains
only three syllables ; and so we find it in Virgil, Ovid, Lucan,
and other Latin poets, who all have its second syllable short, as
it likewise is found in a verse of Homer, which I shall presently
notice. Accordingly, Dryden, in his translation of Virgil, has,
with perfect propriety, used Briareus^ as a trisyllabic word, with
the second syllable short, and the accent on the first, viz.

Before the passage, horrid Hydra stands.

And Briareus with all his hundred hands, (^n. 6. 401.)
If it be said that Milton has made it /our syllables, because, in
the common editions of his '^Paradise Losi,^ (1. Id9) wc iiud

Briareus, or Typhon, whom tfie d^w

By ancient Tarsus held—
I have only to reply, that the passage is falsified aad dibfi^u.cd

K 3

.n4 Fimt^gcM^.

249
How long $haU man survey creatkm's boon%
And madly thraw awiay it$ richest pearly ^

The fresh'biog breezes' sweep away the eloads^
That hid the golden orb of day awhile.

She made a little stand at evVy turn.

And thrust her lily hand among the thorns.

hj the ioaccuraey of wther printers or editors^ aad that, m be^
ter editionsy we read Briarfor; tilie n*iite' betof wrktaii ito two
ways, viz. JBrtarfii^ of three syliaUes^ as Ia Virgil , Oi^d, aad
Lucan, above aoticed--^and BriareS^y of fl).ar^ which occim m
Homer's liiad, U 49S^ and in Hesiod, Tbeog. H9. In Pope's
trandatioa of Homer's Hne, the common editions make bim
guilty of a gross violation of prosody in lengtheuiog and accen*-^
iftg the short penultini» of the trisyllabic i|ri<ifrei*t-^ tha*-^

Whom gods Er^t&rewt^ men iEgason name. («. &2d.)
But I doubt not, that, after the example of hi» autlior, and of
Milton, he intended Briareoi, which, as a word of four syllables,
properly admits the accent on the second — and that he meant
a sifnaretis of the third and fourth^ such as he bad before bi»
eyes in the very line which he was transkuing^ where the ac*
cusative, Briartbn, is reduced by synaresis to three— * and suek
as Shakespear three times exhibita in the name Biomeo^ in tbe
fo) lowing line —

O B.om€o ! Romeo /j wherefore art thou Romeo f
which is only a common five^foot Iambic, with a redundaot
syllable. [%♦ Part of this note is extracted firom a letter of^
mine, in reply to a querist in the " Lady 4 Magagine,*' foe No-
vember, 180<>.}

He brought back the beauteoiia dame in triumph.
With whom came her sisler, fair Emilia.

Iambic Verses of ten syllables, with a mixture of other
feet besides the Iambus.

£53
To partake of those sublimer pleasures^
I would forsake the world and all its charms»

While the shepherd^ free from passion, thus sleeps,,
A moDarch might see his state with envy.

Fair order and rule dwell in her mansion :
What she eari^s so well, she eats with temperance.

£56
With more than mortal sound the pavement rang;-
Huge stones, uprooted from the ground, flew wide^.

e57
Fiends incarnate,, who, void of shame or fear,^
Dare to assume the Christian's sacred name.

At l<engtb I sink to rest, sad and hopeless^
Oppressed by solitude, soFrow, silence.

259
Led on by me, bravely dare the danger ;,
Share the perils and the glory wiib me.

260
Thirsting for immortal fame, the l>ero

116 Vers^cation. ^

Had rather^ die nobly, than live with shame.

261
We tend to th' appointed place, like pilgrims :
The world's an inn, and death the journey's end#

* Had rather. — Dr. Johnson has somewhere stigmatised this
phrase as a vulgar barbarism; and many modern writers, infln-
enced, I presume, by his authority, have utterly discarded it, to
adopt Would rather in its place. But, liowever great the vene-
ration, which I entertain, in other respects, for Df . Johnson's
transcendent abilities, I cannot, in the present instance, subscribe
to his opinion, without wilfully siiutting ray eyes against the
light. Had rather fis genuine English, and a very good expres-
sion, if rightly understood. Had is here in the raiperfect tense
subjunctive : and, when a man says, for example, " I had rather
die than submit^' the meaning is, " I zvould rather have [or
take, or cAoose] to die, than to submit,^* — But, as some modern
grammarians deny the existence of a subjunctive mood in En-
glish, it may be well to recollect that the ground-work of our
language is borrowed fram the German. Now the Gertnan lan-
guage most evidently and undeniably has a subjunctive mood,
which is more particularly conspicuous in the very numerous
host of irregular veibs^ because, in the generality of these,^ tha
present and imperfect of the subjunctive mood are found mate-
' dally to differ from the same tenses of the indicative. I shall
here quote two examples, which we can exactly parallel in En-
glish — Indicative, " Ich war,** I was — Subjunctive, " Ich zc'tire,**
or ** ware^ [prounounctd, in either case, zoa^/rt] I were, i.e. J
would or should be ; — Indie. " Ich hatte,** I Aa^i—^ Subj. " JcA
hatte, or hatie [pronounced, in either case, hayttl\ I would or
should have. Now this hatte, or h'dtte, is the very word used in
our good old English form, '^ hud rather,^ and if^ such phrases
as "Aflrf I the means, I would do it,'^ — *^ hadi been there,
I would have dono it;''— and its preseiit want of a distinctive

f^enificaiion. «117

Take what God gives, since to rebel is vain.
The bad> which we sustaia well, grows better.

263
A holy and a happy pair lie here.
They now share in glory, as once in grace.

264
He strove, in Scythia, with the warrior queen,
Whom, first by force, then by love, he conquer'd.

character to discriminate it from had of the indicative^ is easily
accounted for. Whea the hatte of the indicative was changed
to had, the subjunctive hdtte naturally underwent a similar me-
tamorpbosisy and became had [pronounced AoycQ. In proceM
of tiBM, partie«liwly after the NormaD conqweafe bad banished
the Ai^^la-Saxoa language froou the court aad the polite ei#cle%
the diatinction between hml and hiid was gradually obliterated,
till at length both words were indiscriminately pronooficed had*
—If Dr. Johnson had looked to the German, he certiuniy wovki
not have reprobated, as barbarous, a loog-establi&bed and per-
fectly grammatical form of expression. But, of hit unfortunate
wast of acquaintance with that language (so indispensably re*
qoisite to an English lexicographer) a truly ludicrous instance
ooeara ia his Dictionary » under the wordy Booby. At a loss
for its etymology, he quotes the authority of a fanciful prede*
cesser, wlio derives the word from Bull-hitf! / / Whether Ibis
was intended as a compliment to Mr. John Bull, as if honest
John and his progeny were the most notable boobies in Europe,
I pretend not to determine. But, be that as it may, the word
Boohif is pore German, viz. Buht [pronounced hoohl'] wliich
signifies a chUdf a 6oy, % great awkward hay^ an oaf — ia short, a
hooky — without a single particle of John Bull's beef in his whole
composition.

il8 Versification.

^G5. — The Planet Saturn.
A wond'rous circle clings round his huge form,
And, with lucid rings, girds his frozen globe*

266.— The Planet Jupiter.
Four bright satellites* attend his orb.
And lend their borrowed radiance to his uigbt.

267
My breast labors now with oppressive care ;
And the falling tear descends o'er my cheek.

. 268
Distrust mankind : confer with your own heart ;
And dread to find a flatterer e'en there.

* 5a^tf//i/es.-— Although Satellites be coinnionly pronounced,
in Engliih, as three syllables, and aeceivted on the fifst, it roust.
In the present instance, be pronounced as four, and accented on
the second ; the word being here pure Latin, ns in Pope's Essay
on Man, tpist. i. 42 —

"Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
" Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove."
Pope, it is true, hag been accused of an almost unpardonable
poetic licence in thus accenting the word: but there was- not
the slightest ground for such accusation, as there is not even
a shadow of poetic licence in the case. Had he, as a Latin
word, accented it on the first syllable after the English fashion,
he would have shown himself grossly ignorant of what is well
known to every school*boy who has learned the Latin declen-
sions, viz. that the Latin Satellites neither is "nor can be other-
wise accented than on the second syllable : and he would have
been equally ridiculed by every classical scholar^ as if he had
accented Themistocles and Achilles on the first, and curtailed
them to Themistocles and Ach*les*

Versification; 1 19

269
tov'd Charity, seraph of earth, appears.
And drops celestial tears on human griefs.

270
Tell them, I still hope to live triumphant;
And revive in bliss with them after death.

271
The honor, which the Muse conveys, is faint.
If, void of truth, she lavish wanton praise,

272
O genial Nature ! preside o*er my soul :
Guide the trembling hand of feeling friendship.

273
ril deck his humble tomb with pious care,
And bid the mem'ry of his virtues bloom.

274
To gain your praise, was all my ambition, '
And to please you alone, all my pleasure.

275
He bids his car to rise from earth^s low orb.
And sails through the trackless skies, advent'rous. .

. 276. f

Though, with her laughing eyes, Pleasure hail thee,
Thy crimes will soon rise in direful judgement. .

277
Conceive a maid crown'd with ev'ry virtue,
Renown'd alike for wit and for beauty.

278
His speech restrained the tempest of her grief;
And the maid regained awhile her lost peace.

120 Fers^Miion.

279
The sun tarns^ revohhig on his axis, '
And burns intecisely with creative fire.

£80
Alas ! the gilded prospects fled too soon^
Leavings in their stead, despair and mis'ry.

281
Jack may weM be yain of his fine feeftngs ;
For be has felt a cane mo^t acutely,

282
Succeeding agea shall hear his triumph,
And blend a tear with tlieir admirationt

283
Oh ! discard for a wliile the vulgar joys
Of unmeaning noise and empty pageaot.

£84
Where'er h^ fiies, suspicion haunts the Wtetch :
He lives hated, and dies unlamented.

285
Though he shifte here, bright in polish'd lostre,
His fainter light is scarce seen in the beav'ns*

£86
Stem Diana's altar stood in Tanris^,
DrencbVi with human blood, and girt with terrors.

* T««m.— This appeUation of the Crimea (or Taaric Cher-
sonnesos), lately revived by Russian Catharine, is soosetimes
improperly written Taurida; an error, which originated m
hasty tnnsladons from the French, by persons wbo happened
not to recdkct the anoient name, or the Firencb iiiftg« in form-^

«67
See stern defiance lour on Satan's broir.
And Hell's grim legions pour all around hun.

€88
Then man, blest with universal concord.
Shall daap to his breast leach brother and friend.

289
Vain the giddy strife for honors and gold :
A usefal life is the first of honors.

290
Modest Worth pines there in secret sorrow.
And reclines his head^ far from ev'ry joy.

291
If you want, earn : impart^ if you abound.

iog terminations. In this and many similar cases, where th^
ancient name of a country (I do not say, of a town) ends in IS^
the French closely follow the practice of the Italians, who, io
almost innvmerable instances, form their nouns from the Latin
ablative, as LihrOj Vino, Cuitello, Fane, Cesare, Cicerone*
Thas the Latin Tauris (ablative, Tauride) becomes, in Italian,
Tauride, of three syllables, and, in French, Tauride, of two—as.
Aulii, Colchis, Phoeis, are rendered Aulide, Colchide, Phocide,
in Mons. Dacier*s Horace, and Madame Dacier's Homer. And,
siace it has not been judged proper, in English, tu tranfrA>rm the
names of the^e lastrmeptloned countries intQ AulUttf Colchida,
Phocida, it is much to be regretted that some respectable
writers, who c<znnp< be ^u^pected of ignorance, have, with too
great » facUity of condescension, adopted frofn (hose translators
the irregular appellation of Taurida, instead of setting them
right by their own example, which would have been deferen-
tially received as authority, and have fianUy preponderated with,
the public.

let f%M«lfe«<Jdm

To the feeling heart, these both are pleasures.

The favorite child^ without siriotdiscipliae.
Buds wild, like a neglected foreiter*

Can gold.make reason shine, or calm passion i
Can we, from the mine, dig wisdom or peace i

If attir'd inheav'nly truths, religion,
To be admirM, needs only to be seen.

The slaves of established mode and custom^
We keep the road with pack-horse constancy.

He that has a father's heart, will not blash
To take a childish part in childish plays.

297
Lofty hills now display their verdant crowns.
Emerging into day in vernal pomp.

298
The boasted skill of old practitioners*
Could avail nought to check the growing ill*

■ . ■■■■ 11 - ■ ■■■ ■ I ■■! , I 11 .1.. ■ I ■■.! ■ | . J I I .III. ■—■- »■ .wy

^ PrattiU&ncri»'^Hon this word coald e?er .gain ftii ttHfr
blished footing in our language, I am titterlj at a loss to con-
ceive: but I hope that the gentlemen of the liberal profinsionS)
to whom it is uftuaUjr applied, majr brand it with, their marked
disapprohatitm^ and, as a mifr-crealed monster, hunt* it froa
the cilrdes' of polled society, to herd' in fatare witb- Tulgnr
** Mutitumeri* aud ^ JPbltH#tfmers."-^AA, from the Fxwch
MuiickHf Ifigkicn, Hathkneticien, rrt hare fonned Mm$iiitM)

The eye of mora leods its brightness in vain :
The eve sendu its ixoitc Zephyr in yain*
For me^ whom fale begutlies ofev'ry joy^
No beauty smiles^ and- no music warbles.

Wafted by thy gentle gale, blest MeinVy !
I oft turn my sail up the stream of time>
To view ihe fairy haunts of long-lost hours.
Blest with far fresher flow'jns, far greener shades.

301
I pity bashful men, who feel the pain
Qf nndesery'd disdain and fancied scorn>,
And bear/ upon a blushing face, the marks
Of self-impos'd disgrace, and needless shame.

302 .

We come from our eternal rest with joy.
To see th' oppressor uppress'd in bis turn .m^.
lis thus Omnipotence tuitils bis Jaw;
And, what Justice wills, Vengeance executes.

303
Without her heav'nlv guide, Philosophy

LogiciaJif Mathematician^ so we out&ht to form Practician from
the French Praticitn — re-ikibUting, of course, the c or & oi the
original Greek, Practicot, which is oiuitted. in the Frencii, only
for the take of a cofter sound.**- With respect to Parishioner,
improperly formed from tlie French P^troisnen in the aame irre-
gular manner as Practitioner and Musitioner above, it were
fraitless to attempt the extirpation of an error now inveterate
in the Itsigaage, and too deeply rooted to. allow any hope of
success.

I£4 Vemjkation.

Mblj nouriBh pride^ and blow up self-conceit^
But, while tbe reas'aiDg'part is her proviace^
Has still on her heart a veil of midnight..

304. — J^eCAmfwu.
With unmanly fears he holds no parley :
He confidently steers, where duty bids ;
At her call, faces a thousand dangers.
And surmounts them all, trusting in his God.

305
When life is new, our joys are not numerous f
And some of the few are falling yearly.

S06
Seek not thou, with vain endeavour, to find
The secret counsels of almighty mind.
The great decree lies involv'd in darkness ;
Nor can the depths of fate by thee be piercM.

307
Oh ! wipe the falling dew from Sorrow's cheek :
The sons of want renew to you their plaint«
Impart the balm ofkind relief again.
And glad the aching heart with timely aid.

308
The morsel valour gains, is sweet to me:
The homely cup which freedom drains, is sweet :
The joys which mdependence knows, are sweet ;
And revenge, wrtpak'd on insulting foes, sweet.

309
A najced new-born child, on parent's knees
Thou sat'st weeping, while all smil'd around thee.
So live, that, sinking in thy last long sleep,

Vers^ation. \%5

Thou may's! smile calm^ when all weep aroiiad thee.

310
Pleasures are few ; and we CDJoy fewer :
Pleasure is bright and coy., like quicksilver :
With our utmost skill we strive to grasp it :
It eludes us stilly and it still glitters.

311
'* Can this be true ?" cries an arch observer.—
" True ! yes, 'tis true : with these eyes I saw it,**— *•*
'* On that ground alone^ sir, I believe it :
Had I seen it with my own, I could not."

sl^

A tale should be succinct, clear, judicious ;
The incidents well link'd, the language plam»
Tdl not what ev'ry body knows, as new ;,
And, new or old, hasten still, to a close..

313
Though array'd in Vulcanian panoply,,
Pflfrooiiis* betray'd his native weakness,.

* Pa^r^e/fif.— -Thif name must here take the accent on the
first tjUable, and have the second short; which, in fact, is the
g^oaine clastic prenuaciatioD, though Mr. Pope, in translating.
Homer, chose to make it Patrocluiy for the sake of metrical
oonrenienee; Patrdelus being better suited t^ the nature of'
iambic verse than PatrMus. A late writer, after.bavin^ quoted^
theantfaoritj^of some modern lexicographers, and^^iven his own.
▼ole in favor piPairditu^y caUs fer a reason why he^hould not
be «t liberty to accent Palrecles^id'P^trocli in the same men--
ner. — A very pimple and obvious reason might easily have been,
giveiii .without recurring to modern authorities in ii case where.;

I. 3.

IWd Versification.

When, tempting the unequal fight rashly,
Beneath resistless Hector's might he fell.
Taught ly his superior prowess to know.
How difTrent real worth from empty show.

314
Oh ! could some poet rise, boldfin wisdom.
And unfold half thy beauties to the world.

they cannot possibl/liaye the smallest weight, as the question
must be decided by one universal and invariable rule, vfdi known
to e\'ery school-boy who has read even the first page of the La-
tin prosody. The rule is, that a short vowel, immediately pre#
ceding a mute and liquid, is vendered, by such 'position, not ne-
cessarily long, but simply common; that is to say, that, although
it still remain short in prose^ it may, in poetry, be made ^ther
long or short, at the writer's option, as I have shown by various
examples in my ** Latin Prosody," Now, Patrdclus, Potr^cUsy
Andri^cles, Nicikles, Metr^les, Dembcles, &c. being written in
Greek with the Otnicron, or short 0, that 0, though rendered
common in poetry by the following mute and liquid, still con-
tinues short in Greek and Latin prose i consequently, it ought
to be 80 pronounced in English prose ; and, as our language does
not admit a licentious two-lbld pronunciation, it oegbi to be
equally short in our poetry. Indeed the warmest admirer of
ancient literature would certainly laugh at any wciter who
should, in English Terse, transform the well-known - prosaic
names oiPertcUs, SopMcles, Themisl^cUs, to Pericles, Sophdcles^
Themstocles, though such transformation is perftctly allowable
• in Greek and Latin.-^The same unvarying rule applies to 2>ory-
clus, Ipkiclusj and many other names, which are too often mis-
accented and mispronounced by persons u unacquainted with the
ancient languagei.-«See the note on Androcies, page 1S9, No.
331.

^^•^'

Vemjkuthn* 1^7

Roving on fiance's wing, inapart thy fire.
And feel thy genius beaming on his heart—
I'd wish humbly, though the wish would be yain^
That on me some small portion itiight alight.

3^15. — To England f on the Roman Invasion.
At this distant moment, thy language shows.
How much the country owes to the conquVor:
Refin'd^ energetic, and expressive.
It sparkles with the gems he left behind.
When he came, he brought thy land a blessing :
Savage he found thee, and tame he left thee.

316
The scenes of life, when confessed and present^
Stamp on the breast but their bolder features :
Yet not an image, when view'd reoaolely.
However rude, and however trivial.
But wakes the social sigh, and wins the heart.

With ev'ry claim of close affinity.

317
■ ilich harvests fill each undulating vale :

Trees crown the waving hill : flow'rs deck the mead.

Oaks throw a showV of acorns from their boughs :

In the trunk below, bees hoard their nectar.
. Large flocks, that whiten and spread o'er the field,

Yield to the shepherd their fleecy tribute.
318. — Sif Robert Walpole.

Thus was he form'd to please and to govern :

Dignity with ease, familiar greatness,

Composed his frame : in evVy state, admir'd ^

Great in public, amiable in private;

128 Vers^cation.

In powV, gentle, but, in disgrace, daring;
His love was liberty, peace was his wish,

319
Darius tow'rM in pride high on his throne i
The fair Jpame^ jiracM the sovVeign's side;
And she smil'd now, and, with mimic* frown, now.
Placed the monarch's sacred crown on her brow*
He bends o'er her fauhless form in transport.
Loves evVy look, an I commends evVy act.

SSO. — A Miser.
He wore a threadbare cloak, and rusty hat :
At charge of other/o/fcf he din'd and supp'dr:
And, bad he held out his palms, by his looks^.
An object fit for alms he might be thought.
So, if he refus'd his pelf to. the poor.

* AjMime, — ^The elegant and ingenious author of these lines-
has used a poetic licence in lengthening the middle sellable of'
this name, which must here accordingly he made Apdme, though,
its real quantity is J2>^iRe.— But, as some of our dictionaries say.
otherwise, it may be necessary to add, that, although perhaps no
ancient verse can be produced^ in which the name appears, thera
occurs, in Priscian's geographical poem, a line (quoted in roj
<' Latin Frosodyi^ sect. 8) which mentions the city of Apitmea^.
denominated from ApHme ; and, by a well-known rule of ancient
prosody, the quantity of the derivative proves that the primitive
ApUme has the middle syllable short.

f Fo/fc.— 'These lines arc from Swift, ^hose suffrage we thui-
luckily have in favor of grammatic propriety ; folk being a sin-
gular noun of multitude, like people ;. and neither of them ad--
rnitting a plural, unless (like the Latin populi and the French.
peupks} we were to saj folks or peoples, for natiom*

Versification* 139

Full as kindly as himself he us'd them.

SQL^^jindrocles and the Lion.
When the lion rears his terrific form,
Lo! Androcles* appears half dead with fright.
But^ when the lion views his well-known face.
How soon he renews his former friendship !
The grateful brute lies on the ground, fawning, .
And licks the hand that had erst heal'd his wound.

322. — TAe Planet Jupiter.
Revolving earth must run her course twelve times,
Ere, rounci the sun, the vast planet journeys.
Four radiant moons guide the mighty monarch.
And dance by his side in bright succession ;
Eclips'd and eclipsing, move around him.
And light the night of Jove with changing beams.
Round the sacred oak, gay with garlands, thus
In bright array the rural virgins dance.

323
We die in part, as those we love decay :
String after strin'g from the heart is sever'd ;
Till Iposen'd life, but breathing clay at last.
Is glad to fall away without one pang.
•"*— — ^ ■ ....... . .. ■> .... . -■ - ■■■■■^_-, ^..^ ^

* Andrticles. — This name, like some other Greek names of
kindred derivation, is written in two way^, AndiMns and Andr^
cks, as, in Homer, we find one and the same individual indis-
criminately called Patroclus and Patrocles.-^la Aulas Gelliu9>
the name is AndrMus-^'m ^lian, AndrHcUs ; which latter is
preferable, as the more usual form of such derivatives. In cither
shape, it has the middle syllable ^fcort, tqd the accent on -the
first.— See the note on Patroclus, page U5, No. 313, .

130 VersifieaHon.

Unhappy he, who feels the blow latest.
Whose eyes, o'er ev'ry friend laid low, have wept ;
Dragg'd on from partial death to death, ling'riiig^
Till, dying, breath is all he can resign.
%2A.~ThePoitHfm€.
Ere his exhausted spirits can return.
Or reriviog ardor bum through his frame, [ing :
He must come forth, though sore, maim'd, and Uoip-
The chaise is at the door : he hears the whip*.
The collar tightens : and he feels again
JBis half-heal'd wounds inflam'd ; the wheels i^i^
In his ears resound with tiresome sameness,
O'er blinding dust, or miles of flinty ground*
TTius robb'd nightly, and ev'ry day injur'd,
Kis piece-meal murd'rers wear away his life.

The blackbird, the thrush — all the tuneful throo^
That with their melodious song eheer the groves,
And spend their days harmless — spare, ye gunners!
But the predacious* tyrants of the air.
Whose fierce attacks annoy the peaceful tribes-—
Ye gunners! employ all your skill on these*

* FredachuM. — This word being frequentljr mis-spfl!ed, even
in dictionaries, and converted into PredaCEoug, I wish mj
young readers to lobsenre, in this and numerons othtr cases,
the very materia) distinction between the terminations ACImlt
and ACEouif which convey meanings as widely different as the
terminations ING and ED annexed to our En^ish verbs. Ad*
jectives in ACEout (in Latin ACEUS, and either always or oaost
commonly derived froSB lubstf otivet) signify, of the same nature

Venjficati§n. 131

sea

Say^ in his own proud esteem, what is man i
Hear him — himself the theme and the poet —
A monarch cloth'd with awe and majesty ;

■ .1 II I » I III II I ii»— — ■!■ 11 iiai I I ,■ , ■■!■ I I I ,,Wi

QT fuMance as the original noun, or resembling or belonging to
Of consisting . ^ it, as Argillaceous^ FarinaceouM, Sekaceaus^
Saponaceous f &c. &c. But adjectives in ACIous (in Latin, AX
— Italian, ilC£ — French, sometimes 4CJE7, ^ Tsnaccy sooM^
times ACIEUX, whence our English ACIOUS, as Audacietue,
Audacious) are mostly derived from verbs, and signifjr fond of^
or addicted to, or fit for the action of the original verb, as Lo'
quadous, fond of talking. Rapacious, addicted to snatching or
plandering,^ Tenacious, apt to hold or retain. Capacious, fit or
able to contain, or of fit size to contain much; and so in a va«
riety of other examples. — Agreeablj to this analogy, from the
Latin terb Prdtdor (to prey or plunder) ^e form the adjective
Fredas — In English, PredaClous -^apt to prey or plunder —•
addicted to preying or plundering ; and, from the substantive
Frsda (prey, plunder, booty) comes the Adjective Fradaceus-^
in English, FredaCEous — belonging to prey or booty — consisting
of prey or 5oo/|y.— Hence it is evident that birds or beasts qf
prey must be described as FredaCIous, but cannot correctly be
caQed FredaCEous, Indeed the word FredaCEous can hardly
be used with propriety, except by a writer, who, little scrupe-
lova respecting qoaintness or novelty of diction, should employ
it in fome such combination as the following —
With rav'ning appetite, the bird of Jove
la haste dispatches his predaceous mea]^^
i.e. his meal consisting of prey --or (speaking of Gil Bias i«
the robbers' cavern) —

He looks around,, and, with astonished gaze,
Silent surveys the rich predaceous hoard —
i. c. the hoard consisting of prey or plunder.

132 Venificaiion,

His will his laW; and his mind his kingdom ;
la his mien grace^ and in his eyes glory;
Supreme on earthy and worthy of the skies ;
Dominion in his nod, strength in his heart;
And quite a god, thunderbolts excepted.
So sings he, charm*d with his own form and mind;
The theme a worm, the song magnificent.

327
See the peacock, that self-applauding bird !
Mark what a haughty Pharisee he is.
Meridian sun-beams tempt him to unfold

His radiant glories, gold, green, and azure ,

He seems to say, " Give place, ye meaner fowl ;

I am all grace> dignity, and splendor."

The pheasant presumes not so on his charms.

Though he has a glory in his plumes too.

He, with modest mien, retreats, Christian-like, -j

To the far-sequest^r'd green, or close copse, J-

And, without desiring to be seen, shines. ^

328
Plac'd on this bustling stage for his trial,
Prom thoughtless youth to ruminating age,
Free in his will to refuse or to choose,

Man may abuse or improve the crisis

Conscience from within, and heav'n from above.
Cries in his startled ear, **From sin abstain."
The world around solicits his desire,
And kindles a ti-each'rous fire in his soul,
While, to guard all his purposes and steps.
Peace follows Virtue^ as her sure reward;

And Pleasure brings in her traip as surely
Viadtctive pain and sorrow and remorse.

329
The lapse of rivers and time is the same :
With a restless stream both speed their journey.
The silent pace^ with which they steal away.
No wealth can bribe, no pray'rs persuade to stay :
Both, when past, alike irrevocable ;
And at last a wide ocean swallows both.
Though, in ev'ry part, each resemble each,
A difF'rence at length strikes the musing heart.
Streams never flow in vain : where streams abound>
How the land laughs, crown'd with various plenty !
But time, that should enrich the nobler mind.
Neglected, leaves behind a dreary waste.

330. — TVrUten in a hollow Tree.
Di^os'd to philosophic mental peace,
I Sit composed here in this hollo^y trunlc.
In this sequester'd cell, far from the world,
Content to dwell, like old Diogenes;
Inspir'd to moralise, and trace the time
When this oak, once towVing, was in its prime,
When its verdant branches spread o^er the lawn,
Tfaongh now dead from mutilation and age......

This relic then shall be a temple now
To those who, like me, love Arcadian scenes ;
Who with rapture hear all the warbling throng
Hail, with grateful song, the sweet mom of spring.

194 Fm^aiiM..

Iambics of Jive fe^, or ten s^llmbles, with ^XMOpki of
synaresis*

331
The fragrant blossoms of the vernal field
Yield BaeUtfluous essence to artfal bees*

3S«
He was a virtuoas and brave veteran^
Who ne'er bent the knee to foul dishonor.

SS3
The ui&li^ bioofios, wtien o'er her tow'ring bead
A hundred years have shed their fost'ring dews.

* Aloe, though, ^operly three syllables^ must here be re-
duced by sjnaeresis to two, and so pronounced as nearly to
rhime with Talliizcy, when shortly and rapidly uttered — not with
Tallow or Fallow, ds it is sometimes erroneously sounded. The
^ord is pure Greek ; and, m that language, as likewise in the
Latin, it is invariably a trisy liable, like Pkoloey Eunoiff Dmui^im
— With respect to Aloes, improperly u^d as the name of tJbe
drug , HI. as imprupeiiy made to rhime with Fallows, I can
only say (what is sutficiently known to every school-boy who
lias but learned tlie. Latin grammar, and a couple ofdeclensions
in the Greek) that no such form as Aloes does or can exist in
the Greek or Loin •, except in eke ^nitive case stagulary very
correctly , used by pikysiciaii» itr ciieir prescriptioDS, as Tmct»
Aloes, Tinctu*e(jF,Alof; irOin wliich prescriptions^ I presooiey
the word acvid^iuaUy niade iis w*iy into tomiuon conversation,
as a sillgul^r nominative, for, as to plural,, \t has none in either
Greek or Latm, as is equally well known to even the youthful
novices in those languages. — Were there question, however,
of-mentioning Aloe plants in the plural; my young readers need

334
She seeks tbe Tule of death with, bnrried stjaf$,
And resigns her breath in wild ddiriom.

SSS
The morning beams, that imparl life and joy, ^
Shall warm my heart with their genial inflanoe.

336
He then fiew lightl j from bis lofly stecd^
And he rais'd the suppliant crew, one by one

.337
Begardless of the divine spark, they striTO
To shine in fasbioa's transient and dim beams.

338
In days of jore, thou wast the veriest slave^
That ever tugg'd an oar, or dragg'd a chain.

339
Whoe'er ^an lead forth a patriot statesman.
Replete with worth, fortitude, and wisdom, ••••
I give this golden chain and scarf to him.
Hi» name 8ha)l ever live, engr^t'd witii mine*

340
While, aniid the pomp of state, Damocle^^
Sate enra^tur'd al the regal banqurt,
O'er his head he spied the sword suspended ;
And all pleasure Und joy fl^d at the sight.
From the sumptuous board he started, alarm'd,
And wish'd.his humbler, safer, fare restor'd.

not scruple to say Aloi^s, proDouncing the word in three sylla-
bles ; the last to rhime with The$e.

* DmmlkUi — the middle syllable short, and the accent on the
first. — . Sm tha fott oa P«<HMlf, No. 915; pute ltd.

186 VmificMon.

341
Has nature denied thiilt force, to my nerreti.
With which my happier fellows are supplied?
Or does my shrinking mind, to toil averse.
Lazily i-ecoil fr4>m labor^s dutiefi i -
jNo ! . the bounteous hand of heav'n to these limbs
Has giv'n a more than common share of force :
Nor were their powers, by pride or indolence.
Denied to the severest claims of toil.

342. — To Mrs. Siddens.
^xpos'd to scenes where varied pleasure glows.
And all the Inres which ^ice throws for beauty,
TTis thine to remain, 'midst danger, unhurt.
And, though thou feeFst its influence, prove it vain»
Thus th' asbestos defies the pow'r of fire.
And lies un-idjur'd, 'midst its violence ;
And, though destructive flames roar around it^
Quits the fierce furnace perfect as before.
But whence canst thou tread with un-injur^d feet
The world's dire path, spread with burning plough*

shares f
Whence can thy heart disdain temptation's tK>w'ri
While Envy's darts in vain assail thy fame!
Religion's shelt'ring pinions wave o'er thee ;
And^the wreath, that Justice gave. Virtue guards.

Iambics of eight and six syllables altematcfy; the
first line to rhime with the third-^the second, mth the
fourth.

343
Ah ! what is life ? — The road to death

Through disDiay and aiiguMtv '
With ev'ry breath we iififaate ilb«

Along the devious way*
844 —'
The sweet soagsters of tb^ grove iiovr

Prepare their matin hynifis.
Which, tun'd to love ati^ JB^ratiuidcv

Declare their maker'frpowV.

We still rove together at- eve, »

To hear the nigh^ingafle.
Who diants sweetly the' notes of love,

So tremulously clear. • - ^
.546
He clad too and taught the orphan, .

Relieved the widow's wants,
Brought kind assistance to prisons,
' Where captive debtors griev'd.
■'347/ ' ' • ■'
His drear abode is yon hovel.

Which scarcely yields shelter ;
He sits beside the road all^day>

Or walks the fields slowly.
- 348
Round me glows th' Ely sian -prospect,

O'erspread with vernal hues:
My heart o*erflows with ecstasy, •

As I tread these lovM scen^.
349
Bat now, planned by judgement and taste, .

ISt Vmtrifieatim.

We findl^ throughMt these tceneft^
The worka of Art's improtiog hand

Join'd with ancient splendor.

3 50. — The Glow'Oorm. >
Near the stream^ or beneath the hedge^

A worm is known to stray.
That shows a lacid beam bj nighty

Which by day disappears.

35 1. — TAe Antiquary »
He bore a druid's sacred form :

A girdle bound his rofaes :
Id ancient lore he was deep vers'd:>

In old, profound customs.
^ He'd trace old kings, by musty coi.ns,,

And know their mien and air.
By face he well knew king Alfred,.

Though he'd never seen George^

Iambics of eight and six syllables alternately; ik
sis^Uable lines to rhime — the others, tiot.

Could we obtain our present wi8fa>.

Should we rest contented i
That wish might perhaps prove fatal «— >

If possess'd, lamented .
$59
Come, ye faithful ! come triumphant i

Repair to BethleheoEU
Behold the king of angels born :

With pray'r adore the Lordt

FemfieatUn. <IS9

Let the holy host of beair- n now

Raise the che^rbil choros :
Psaise to the Lord in the highest :

Let all nations proue him.

Iambics of eight syllables, with alternate rhime ;
i. e. the first line to rhime with the third — the seq^nd,
with thejourth.

354

My soiil^ stop thy rapid flight here^
Nor depart from the pleasing groves,

Where great Nature first charm 'd my tigbt^
Where first Wisdom informed niy beait*

In vain they searched, to find the wretch^

Whose bre"ast never knew soft pity;
Whose heart ne'er felt a refin^'d joy,

Bui still drew its pleasure from giitU«
356
Why so soon retir'd from tlie world ? .

Why have you fled to solitude —
Your heart fir'd with friendship and love>

And poetic dreams in your head i
357
Now morning and gentler gales came;'

And hope chee];'d our bosoms again :
We trimmed our tatter'd sails gaily ; /

And England's coast appeared at lengths
358
On the Gallic, shore soon landed.

140 Fers^atien.

And allowed to roam on parole,
Hope once more filFd iJij» faithfiil breast

With thoughts of pcacefol home and thee.
359
What, though the miser's iiainYul hand

Should drain the rich Peruvian mines?
Could these coAimand one single joy,

Or mitigate one moment's pain ? *
360
As her rapid thoughts arise, she

Can, in glowing fvhrase, express each.
With charm*, which Nature's self supplies

To all she says, to all she does.
361 ^
The fervid source of light and heat.

Through the western skies descending,
Though veil'd from. mortal sight awhile.

Shall rise with golden b^lam again.
362
In dire amaze, o^er the sad scene.

With courage not her own, she went*
She cast her gaze on many a corpse.

And to many a groan turn'd her ear.
368
When I first begah life's journey.

With the lead of care anburdea*d,
I ran with giant strides, in thought.

To scenes that Pancy painted fair.
My wishes would fly already

To many a great and arduous height.

VenifieaiiQn. 141

Nought was too high, nought too dktantj

To tempt my fancy's daring flight.
d64. r^Toa sleeping Irifant.
Seraphic boy, sleep^ sleep in peace.

Thou tender {Jedge of sincere lorel
Thy wretched parents' only joy,*

And their only solace here now.«««.4
Smiling innocence, sleep secure !*

May heav'n's sustaining arm be near,
And aid tttee to endure calmly

The evils which here await thee.

Honeysuckles and new hay lend

To the breathing vale their fragrance ;
While nameless flow'rs blend their odors^

And regale the smell with their sweets.
366
Thy moral grace, thy peerless charms^

Far excel the pow'rs of fiction.
Each beauty decorates thy face ;

AH the virtues dwell within thee.
367
Soft regard, dear, dove«like kindness.

And wit combin'd with loveliness***
At once our reward and our bonds—

Shall make captives. of all mankind.
^368
Some hapless wretch, a prey to grief.

Oppressed with more than common woes.
Pines away the night in sorrow^

I4t F&s^diwi*

Uoblesft'd fay pi9aee> uocheer'd by hope««««^
Fair queen of night 1 I call on thee:

H«ar my prayfr, O. silver Cyntbift ! .
Unveil to my sight thy radianc<3^

And to the child of eac^ gaide me.

369 , .
Madd'ntng with b^r, woe, JL^cy ptow

Tore her garments ia frantic rage.
She wildly view'dthe ^es^ below;

Then pluug'd headlong, no more to riie«...«
They pass'd along .the wav^Wi>ro beach.

Their wand'ring search was vftin some time'.
At last they saw poof Lilc^i's cor^eji

Where on the main ii floated loose.
S70
When the tempests ro^r loud and dreao

When the billowy muuntaiii^ rise high.
And 'gainst the r(Ocby shone, headlong^

The vessel flies, dniv'n by the Wast, .»».#
Say, does the seaman's daring mind

Shrink frua) the angry frown of &te i .
Does he, resigned to abject fear,

Wait th* impeding stroke in silepce? ' .

With guilty hands, tot^ee, r«fii«m /trace, • :
Has torn roe ^wnfjrom my joys, ...

Condemned in distant lands to tbil.
And doom'd each passing day to vrcep.

The clanking cliain, and mmding whip.
Disturb my rest witk horrid dia ; i

And dire curses, from profane lips.

Shoot through my breast sudden terrors*
From all I love, far divided,
V From all iny heart holdsd^ar, ramov'd^
I each day prove death's siiarpest pangs,

And shed the fruitless tear, each hour.

O'er their flutt'riog bands shall g^y Youtb

Preside as chief, still atteDtiye :
To watch thy nod, bear thy commands^

And execute thy mighty will.
From thy amarantiae bow'r, lo !

At his call, their host rushes quick;
And each opposing povir'r shall soon

Fall beneath their conqu'ring legions.
Then, bound in thy silken fetters.

Around thy throne, earth's various tribes
To ground shall bow their heads, captive.

And own thbe their sov'reign ruler»
E'en stubborn Mars, encbain'di subdu'd^

Shall kneel submiss before thy ahrine.
Shall rend the wreath gain'd by valour,

And break the deadly steel, sighing.
He'll tear from earth hta an€e4oy'd fwdn^

Embru'd with ^arA And gore.a^d goll^
And rear, in iu placey.tfae.'ixvylrUey

Bedew'd by tluie with.aeetar's juioe*.
His shrill claeion shall no more fiiie i . .

The warrtior train witjii nuadd'mng notes^
A tyrant's rav'ning ice to sate, ^

144 Ftrsification.

And drench the plain with kindred blood.
Amid th' embattled throng, himself

Shall tune his lay to the soft lute.
And prolong sweet Lydian measures, ^

Till frowning Discord hie away.
And, lo ! their louring knitted brows

The adverse hosts unbend gradual ;
Each bosom glows ; each heart relents ;

Eadh hails his former foe a friend.
Join'd in Concord's tlow'ry bands, now

They shout joyous the sacred name
Of Brother ! and, uniting hands.

Proclaim eternal peace on earth.

Iambics of eight syllables; the second and fourth Una
to rhime — the first and third, not,,

373
Her visage was pale, her cheek wan;

Yet her languid eye beam'd sweetly.
Her faded form own'd a grace stilly

Which might almost vie with beauty. '

374
The sky waa serene, the sea calm^

And the eastern gale blew gently^
When, seated on a rock, Anna -

View'd the Lavinia*s lessening sail. *

She thus address'd hier pray'r to heav n :

'^ Thou,..who ca^st destroy, or canst sfve,
Guard from each surroundiag danger

Fersificatu^. 145

Mjr little sailor boy much-Iov'd,"

Iambics of five ftet^ or ten syllables, with alternate
rhime; i. e. the first line to rhime mth the third — \ihe
second, with the fourth*

375
Whither, whither art thou flown/Ione wand'r^r f
To what gloomy dell or sequester'd bow'r? . .
Say, do«t tboa go where sorrow is unknown?
Dost thou dwell where trouble never enters?
376
Through the sky the ev'ning radiance gleams faint:

The sober twilight darkens round dimly :
The shrill bat flits by, in short quick circles.;
And along the ground the slow vapor curls» .
377
Quench the sacred fire, ye sons of science !
No more awake the vocal shell for fame:
Let sordid gain ii)S{Mre your stooping souls,
And bid the soaring dreams of Hope farewell,
378
Ye Muses, say, what now avail your gifts.
The poet's fi/rie, and the poet's feelings ?
Tliey but teach me to bewail keener pangs:
They, but itispire deeper lamentations.
379
Di fiusing gladness all around, Spring now

Courts the western breeze with alluring smiles.
Scatters o'er tb€ ground her :gayest flowers^

, - N

146 Vtr^atim.

And clothes the spreading trees in green foliage.
380
A flriend I had : now that friend is no more.

His cold remains lie beneath the marye*
I deplore his loss with bitter anguish^

And often heave a sigh to his mem'ry.
381
But^ lo I with crowded sail he comes at last !

See, what eager figures bend o'er the cliff!
And hark, what mingled murmurs swell the gale !

He hears the welcome of a friend, in each.
382
Huge co\rer'd tables stood in the wide hidl,

Crown'd with rich viands, and wines high-flavoar'd,
Whatever tasteful food or sprightly juic^

Is found on the green bosom of this earth.
383
The rooms Wfeie hung with costly tapestry.

Where many a gentle tale was inwoven^
Such as the rural poets sung, of old,

Or of Arcadian or Sicilian vale.
384
Ye guardian spirits, to whom man is dear.

Shield tiie midnight gloom from frightful vittODs:
Be near, bngels of love and of fancy.

And diffuse a bloom o'er the blank of deep.
385
Man was a ragged wight, the worst of bmtes :

He pr^'d on his own wretched kind, ruthless :
The strongest still over^ra tlie weakest;

Mighty robbeip. m^y*A . iq ev Vy i^pniitr j.

386
Th' uiferioT dennon^ of ^k^ piac^, aliina'(}»

Rais'd aroQad rqefal shrieks jemi^ bidep(i9 y^}]s«
Stormy black clpuds deform'd tb? welkins face;; .
And a wailing sound va& beard i'tqm iieiieath*
387
How vast this wond'rous scene appe^r'd, how feif* J

When hope displayed its Q|]^'ning buds at first!
How dull and comfortless^ hpw tneaa and poioi;^
Has reason since portcay'd this mighty world!
388
Pour tby melting notes pn my f^in^ng^souli

Softer than spring's lone minstre] can bestow.
While ih>^ cadence floats through the listening ai'O '
The sigh shall cease, the tear foiget to flow^
389. — Retinv9^tu.
On a faiti)fui shore, a^bUian's vessel , .

Res^s in peace her^> swi^t ^.iptenlt b^f wsi^t^
Mo more is curiosity se^Q here
:^plaring each event with prying eye<
390
The Muses rove o'er the grassy aifeac)» hert.

Or by yoQ streaai that strays tbiiougb the vallty;
While through. the grpve inspiration whi»{>ers»
And ^ortive fancy plays 'mid the foliage*
391
Ye sublime bills, that o'er the wild landscape
Frown wild and. drear in terrific grandeur^
Thou crystal Tay^ that rollst in mVX cadeoc^,

]48 Versification.

I coiii^ to sooth here my cbiMish sorrows*

Charmer of the anguishM hour^ Patience } come,
Skiird to beguile each desponding horror.

Sweet but serious pow'r ! come, benignly mild,
And with thy melancholy smile sooth me.

The rooks are hush'd to rest in yonder grove.

Within their nests^ among the topmost bouglis ;
The light-wing'd lark has pre$s'd his lowly bed:
The glossy blackbird his song has forgot.
394
The tall tomb uprears its pompous head there,

Spread o'er with praise and with high-sounding verse,
As^though the fulsome theme the dead could please.
Or on eternity's vast shore sooth them*
395
Thou hast powV, sweet child of fancy^ Fiction,
To move each various passion that we know ;
Canst bid the brow lour with imag'd sorrows,
Canst make the breast glow with imag'd pleasures.
396
How oft shall we be told, in reason's spite,

(And told it in Britain's lib'ral air too)
By those who hold Afric's sons in bondage.
That they fare better than Scotia's peasants?' ,
397
O Peace ! I resign all the world for thee;

I fly from all the haunts of men for thee.
O divine maid, 1 ask but this on earth.

Fen^cation. 14Q

To waader wUh th^e, ^u<;l tp die with t|«ee.. .
398
Where'er they go, obedient Fortune waits :

Til' inconstant elements are kind, for them :
The proodest streams forget to flow, for them ;
And the fav'ring wind spring? up at their wish*
399
I now aand ^Jone on the world's bleak; Wi^^t^.; .

I am Jeft an unproteicted orphan.
The names oi kindred are uijknown to me;
Vm bereft of e^h endejariiig comfort.
400
Gentle villc^er, paus^e here a ^K>Aient :

Forego the thoughts of earthly cares awhile : :
Drop on€ pitying Jtear, or breathe a soft sigh,
If for oiliers' woe tby bosom e'er throbb'd.
401
Days of my youth ! are you flown fof ever?
Blest days of ease and jnnoceace, adieu !
Are you gone, dear rustic recreations —
Pastimes of youth, when ev'ry sport could please ?
402. — May.
No frowning moments dare intrude their gloom : .

But from ev'ry spray melody is heard.
The fleecy wand'rers crop their plenteous food.
Or sport away the sunny houjrs gaily.
403
AflFection's glance can pierce the dreary gloom.

That curtains round the unknown land with clouds.
She wails and spbs o'er thy tomb ia anguish ;.

N 3

1 50 Fersification.

Alas! her moan unheard, her tears unseen.
404

Let busy Scandal, with tongue maKgnant,

Repeat thy piieous tale with savage joy r
Wrunu by thy sorrows, the feeling soul shall

Bewail thy fate in sympathetic strains.
405
Anxious for his country's weal, some statesman

Perhaps scans the fate of mighty empires.
His laboring mind can feel no soft repose^

While he weighs th' important plans in bis breast.
406
I strike thy trembling strings once more, my lyre;

But I raise not again thy notes to joy.
Grief flings her hand o'er the chords, distressful.

And oft delays the song, faintly pausing.
407
I beheld a youthful stripling with him :

His mien wa§ modest, and his gait careless;
And he held a half-strung lyre in his hand.

Which he oft struck, between each- idle pause.
408
If e'er you chose, sweet pensive jessamine.

To deck an humble spot to fame unknown ;
And thou, fair virgin rose, of modest blush.

If kindred worth and charms claim thy notice j
Oht round yon tomb interweave your branches,.

And embalm the air with united sweets :
For beauty's blooni, and truth, and innocence-
All that the poet lov'd— is there buried.

Fenificatian. 151

409
Sterne ! thy poetic pow'ra are dear to all :

We sit and moan near sick Le Fevre's couch.;
And^ wrung with anguish, drop the piteous tear

For poor Maria, wild, wand'ring, alone.
Nor less thy poignant wit and mirth delights :

The angled fence, the martial bowling-green,
Old Siiandy's argoments, are fit emblems

Of ruling passions mastering common sense.
410- — Indolence.
He wishM sometimes to shake off bis stupor.

And break the charm which bound his senses thus.
Awake to deeds of noble enterprise,

And join the busy crowd which buzz'd around.
But still he ever found some vain excuse^

And said, " It will do as well to morrow/* ^ ,
It came, and tied ; — the same unvaried round

He pass'd, nor could repel its numbing pdwVs*
411
That breast, the seat of refin'd sentiment.

Those pow'rs, that could explore ev'ry science.
Are now consigned to Death's unfathom'd gulf —

Alas ! no more to charm th' admiring world. .
What avails now that divine eloquence.

That on the dubious mind stamp'd conviction.^
The lavage and sage must resign their life :

Time leaves behind no wreck of human pow'r.
41^
What, if the smiles of Fortune play round me.

Or if through the lund my name be eeho'd? .

152 Fersification.

Whati If a servile train obey my voice,

Or honors, or length of days, stand round mc ?
Can these imparl o^e ray of bliss to mind.

Or spread o'er the breast the glow of virtue.
From a love-sick heart remove the anguish.
Lull our fears to rest, or disperse our doubts i
413
There, too, was he, who siemm'd nobly the tide

Of corruption foul, with breast undaunted;
Who liv*d f«)r his country, and would have died.

Could he, dying, have seen bis country blest*. *
He pitied its woes, and redressed its wrougs ;

Devoted each successive day to it:
But the iron arm of pow'r oppress'd him,
Strewing o'er his way the thorns of sorrow.
414
Long-lost Peace, hail ! divine dove-ey'd maid, hail !!

See a suppliant vot'ry bemi at thy feet :
Oh ! with an eye benign deign to view him :
So dying Hope shall find a friend in thee.
Ah ! turn not away thy angelic £aoe !

If thou'lt be mine. Til quit this vale no more>
But sit all the live-long day beside thee.

And list to thy rural tale in silence

There may we h've, unseen and unsought for.

By Fortune's train, rude, cold, and fantastic ;.
!Nor let the sons of Comus mark the green.

Nor lounging triflers intrude on our hours

If to our sylvan shed aught be welcome.
Be it the traveler who has lost bis way.

Versification. 153

Who knows not where to rest his anxious iiead.
Who knows not where to lay his weary linibs.

The second and fourth tines to rhime — the others, not.

415
To chase the clouds of gloom^ and sooth my griefj

The beauties of the painted vale [ sought.
I often water'd the flow'rs with my tears.

And loaded the passing gale with my sighs.
^ 416. — J dicing Father, to his Children,
Pious oiF:>pring ! go> and restrain those tears. .

To regious of eternal bliss I fly :
Heav'ii hears my dying pray'rs in your favor :

Take, in this clay-cold kiss, my last blessing*

Iambics of eight syllables ; each paragraph to make
two verses, with rhime,
417
Blest spirit ! forgive the mournful rites we keep. —
We weep for ourselves.
418
How soothing sweet nature's music to the traobfed
mind ! how refin'd !
419
A swain, unvex'd with all the cares of gain, lit'd
remote from cities*
420
I never averbear in conversation, with important air.

421.
IS or would I invade my neighbour's right by stealth,
with felonious slight.

IM Fersification.

Frail man is ever prone to err: but generous
minds will own their faults.
423
Sweet to rove the tangled thickets of the grove at this
twilight hour.

424
To enrich her cells, the bee sucks honey from
cowslips* golden bells-
425
The drooping Muse, now dropped for news and poli-
tics, lay neglected.
426
And the hands, that plough the soil, shall guaid
well the produce of their toil.
427
Then let us kneel here on your hallow'd threshold,
while we seal our vowa.
428
The earth keeps her richest, proudest treasures within
bef cavcrn'd deeps.
429
Benumbing frosts, which chiU'd fair nature-'s genial
fire, retire at length.
430
Atrides! my Muse, with daring wing, would fain
siog thy glorious deeds.
431
But the meltitig notes soon agaia begin to flow in
slow murmurs.

Fersificaiimm IS^

432
The fav'rtog Muse bad stor'd his mild bosom with
all her ample views.
433
The surges force their way o'er the labor'd molej,
with resistless sway.

434 .
In the vale below, sparkling 'midst heaps of drifted
snow^ I've found thee,
435
The sun has now nearly run his headlong course In
the kindling west.

436
Old Simon, remov'd to the manor-house, now proved
evVy comfort.

437
Oh ! haste ! restore the blessings of sweet peace to
this once-favor'd shore.
438
The Muses stray, far, far from Grandeur's noisy way,
to vales and groves.
439
Hence, the ant is found to tread the ground with
anxious steps, ev'ry day.
440
Thus died the wicked, wanton sparrow, in her pride
and cruelty.

441
The hoary swain strove^ with cautious steps, to gaiii
the river's margin.

156 Versijitation.

442
With anxious bleat, the playful lamb pursues his
dauQj and seeks the teat,
'443
Contentment, and sincere piety^ and truth, loVd to
shelter here. ^

444
The river-god, beguiFd by music's trilling notes^
sat up, and smil'd.

445
But see how regular . the motion of the heav'nly
spheres appears.

446
A clown took his way across the forest before the
break of day.

• 447
Lo ! a mother, a friend, a wife sleeps, where weeps
. this silent marble.

. 448
The suflTrer, no more oppressed with earthly cares,
sio^ti sinks to rest there.
449
Haply, some angel whisper'd low in his ear, that his
hour w'^s near.

450
Why should Ae, whose life i« pass'd with fair renown,
fear the tyrant's frown ?
451
Her lovely face, her faultless form, add new grace te
the diadem ;

Fers^ication. 157

and Dariiis^ subject to a woman's lavs, sees, and

smiles applause.

452. — Memory,
' She flies far from the busy worlds to taste that peace

the worlds denies.
From youth to age, she sits entranced, reviewing liA^s

eventful page,
and noting the little lines of yesterday, as they fade

away.
453. — To Dr. Thornton, on kU beautiful represeti"

tation of the Agave, or American Aloe*.
Agave, nurs'd by a length of rolling years, rears her

statdy form,
with wise delay, still protracting the beauty followed

by decay.;
till, urg'd by time's resistless date, ^e braves ap»

proaching fate nobly,
and, conscious of impending doom, bursts forth into

bloom,, impatient ;
while the golden gems profusely shoot, rich, from all

their curving stems ;
then the vegetable martyr, fading 'midst admiring

eyes, dies.
But, at thy command thusflow'ring, lier finished form

shall stand unchanged,
and, through ages yet to come, shall smile, glorying

in perennial bloom.

* See the note on Ahe^ No. 333, page 134.
o

158 PCers^atian.

Iambics of ten syllables; each paragraph to make two
•Verses f with rhime.

454
The Thracian herdsman so stands full in tbe gap
with his spear, and hopes the hunted bear.
455
And a temple, sacred to the queen of love, was
rais'd above, o'er its eastern gate.
456.
Tbe form of Mars, all sheathM in arms, stood high
on a chariot ; and the god look'd gruffly*
457
The huntress Cynthia pursues the deer, with her
nymplis around : tbe woods resound with horns.
458
Then^ she preferred her chaste request thus lowly,
kneeling with her bands across her breast.
459
The w-ar, and stern debate, and immortal strife,
shall then be the business of my life.
460
They were scarce seated, when a promiscuous rude
crowd at once rush'd in with loud damors.
461
But, whither bis soul went, let those, who search
the secrets of the future state, relate.
462
But, alas! why do mortal men in vain complain of
Providence, Fate, or Fortune i

463
He snor'd secure tilJ morn, hisrMDses bound in slum-
ber, and drown'd in long oblivion.
464
In days of old, there liv'd a vjftliant prince, of mighty
fame; and his name was Tkema*.
465
Indulgent Heav'n vouchsafes the sweet vicissitudes
of night and day, for onr delight.
466
O thou, with whom, from reason's dawn, my heart
was wont to share each care and each pleasure !

467'
Oh ! from our fate and our example learn, ere too
late, learn repentance and wisdom.
468
Thus, always teas'd, always teasing others, to be dis«
pleas^'d is his uuly pleasure,
469 .
The rhetVic they display, like quicksilver, shines, as
it mns, but, gra$|»*d :at, slips away.
470
To catch from the sight new rapture, angels had
stopped, when Mercy's mandate ^»ing'd their tlight.
471
We pay tlie tributary tear at learning's tomb, with
sincere grief and due rev'r^nce.

47«
How much of learning, how much oi knt)v\ ledge,

* Thestttt, two syUiibles. *- See the note on Or-pheus, No. 247,
page 112.

160 FersificaUan.

bade the world farewell, when Horatio fell !
473
The careful housewives make an ample cake for me
at home, rich with almonds and plums.

474 —

Pride of the land ! you largely share whate*er of fair
or good celestial bounty gives, * •

475
The fool, who presumes to utter ooe opposing word
'gainst his sov'reign lord, is rash. '
476
Scotia's queen nowrose on her couch, and gaz'd away
her soul, as the day faintly dawn'd*
477
Ever working on a social plan, God attaches man to
man by various ties.
478
Yet depend not much upon your golden dream^ al«-
though it seem feasible and fair.
S^ 479

The sage, who late diffas'd the blessings of Britan*
nia*8 reign o'er India's wide domain.
48a
There was a time, when the light wak'd me at morn
cheerfully, and, at night, peace was mine.
481
Ill-fated Greece saw both her taste and her genius
excite beneath a victor's ire.
482
Lo ! lame Tyrtaeus wakes slumb'ring Sparta's half-
ex tin guish'd fire with his martial lyre.

483
No tongue can express, no pen describe, and no
thought figure poor Orra's dire distress.
^ 484
We thank the hand, that points the wholesome lancet
to some morbid part, with gentle art.
485
Theodosius, a youth endu'd with worth of early
•giDWthy woo'd this beauteous virgin.
486
B&riiis, tir'd with the toilsome pleasures of the day,
now lay reclined on his coueh.
487
E'en now, e'en now, pale Despair weeps, and wrilli-

iog Anguish roars, on yonder western iliares.
E'en now fierce Slav'ry stalks in Afi'ic's groves with
hideous yell, and slips the dogs of hell.
488
The prophet §pake well, " Let the desert sing : the

spiry fir shall spring where the thorn sprang;
and the luxuriant yew and myrtle shall grow, where
grew rank and unsightly thistles."
489
Bat these fond dreams of happiness are not confessed,
• 'till time has calra'd the ruffled breast.
Hoav'n's sweet Smile is not reflected on the wave, *till
the rushing winds forget to rave.
490
Ye careless and supine, from a voice like mine, take
counsel and caution^ if you can.
o 3

162 Vernation. ,

I would teach truths, which the theorist could never

reach^ and observation taught me*

, 491 * •

Just Heav'n approves the work of gen'rous love and

£lial fear, hs sincere and honest :
but the omniscient judge scorns, with averted ejes,

the slavish drudge, and the base hiteling.
AQ^.— To Death.
Ah ! why dost thou thus, capricious, stili turn aaide^

with tyrant pride, from the wretched ?
and why love to stray, an un-invited guest, where

thy presence strikes with wild dismay i
493. — The Pknet Mercury.
Swift Merc'ry, scorch'd as he moves around the solar

blaze, first displays his vivid orb.
494 ^

Surrendered, ev'ry hour, to the ruling pow'r of some

ungovern'd passion, the heart
finds the truths that once bore sway, and all their

deep impression, wear away by degrees.
So coin, passM current in traffic, grows smooth, 'till

at last Csesar's image is effac'd* ,
495
I saw thee, thwarted by storms af elemental strife,

cross the troubled sea of life.
I saw thy skiff, on the raging main^ maintain unequal

fight with fearful tempests.
I saw the whirlwind's breath heave up the mighty

billows of the deep, with dreadful sweep.

Fers^aiion. l63

496

The Gipgey's faggot blaz'd , at ev'niog, down by yon
hazel copse. — There we stood, and gaz'd -—

gaz'd^ with silent awe, on her sun-burn'd face, her
hood of straw, and her tuttt:r*d mantle

As she drew the silver piece o'er my palm, and, with
searching view, trac'd the line of life,

how my flutc'ring pulse throbb'd with fears and hopes^
to learn the color of my future years !
497

.4ffi)d the wreck of time, so Tully paused, to trace the
suhlime truth on the rude stone,

when th' immortal sage of Syracuse, disclosed in ho-
nored dust, reposed at his feet.

Iambics of eight and six syllables alternately ; each
paragraph to make a line of eighty and one of six--^
the first rhiming with the third — the second with the
fourth.

498
Her plaintive strains play'd in mournful accents on

£cho's ear ;
and the warbling notes sweetly decayed on the di»

stant plains.

499

Though my fortune has denied show, pomp, and daz-
zling splendor,

yet content has well supplied more than grandeur
can bestow.

]64 VersyUatwn.

500.
Lo ! impetuous torrents *dash down the mouataia's

rugged side,
and the tide, with horrid crash, bears down mingled

rocks and trees.

501
Ye verdant groves^ adieu! ;e .plains, where nature

smiles, adieu !
The view no more proves my solace, no more be*

guiles my thought.

502. — Epitaph on a Child.
With friendly care. Death came, ere sorrow eould

fade or sin blight,
convey'd the opening bud to heav'n, and there bade

it blossom.

503
Alasl the little victims, regardless of their doom,

play.
They have no care beyond to-day, no sense of ilk

to come.

504. — Migratory Birds.
On weary wing,, from remote climes, a helpless train

arrive,
which in vaia seek food and rest, low circling in

ai/y ring.

505
The sons that Britain leads to combat on the main^

are firm,
and firm her hardy race that tyeads the plain in steady

march.

Versification. 165

606 ^

The peacefal eve spread her twilight mantle^ with

serene smile ;
and Cynthia shed her argent lustre o'er the dewy

green.

507
Fair fountain ! may tufted trees arise on thy greea

margin,
and spreading boughs screen from summer's fervid

skies thy bosom ! *

508
Ah me I what charms the prospect wears to youth's

untutor'd eye!
The op'ning world appears bright as the portals of

the skyt

50y
Old chieftains^ who knew no refinement, dwelt here

in rude state.
The wants their bosoms felt, were small, and few their

enjoyments. ,

510
Sure, sacred friendship shall gloWj not confin'd to

life's short span. .
The ardent mind shall know its best delights beyond

the grave*

511
The panting herds' repose : the toiling hand of Care

is still :
the busy murmur of insects glows through the peo-
pled air.

166 Versification.

512

The swallows compose their useless wing in their
torpid state ;

and. bees wait the call of early spring as idlj in
hives,

513

I ask nqtf ye great, your repose, laid on swelling
velvet,

while the oak-leaves close their venerable shade o'er
my head.

514

If we saw each inward grief written on man's out-
ward brow,

how many would then draw our pity, whom we

, now envy!

515

In black attire the church was deck'd, the saints ar-
rayed in black,

and a bloody corpse was laid in the middle of the
choir

and he found the altar stain'd with blood, as became
nearer;

and there streamed a crimson flood on the steps, and

all around.

516

O'er the vale I wander'd, while balmy Zephyrs blew

gently.
The blue vi^iet and white lily gave fragrance to the

gale.
The feathered tribes hail'd Sol's refulgent beam with

tuneful song :

Femjication. 167

the finny race saiPd down the stream swiftly, in
sportive throng.

In the following stanzas^ of the same measure as the
preceding, the rhime is confined to the seaond\andfourth
lims.

517
And they hail'd the bridal day with joy, when it

came at length ;
and they went their willing way onward to the hoase
of God.

518
The day's last splendors shine bright on the mciin«

tain's heathy slope,
and gaily gleam o'er the Rhine, rich with many a-
radiant hue*

519
Your strong compassion glows, where Mis'ry spreads

her deepest shade :
the balm, that softens human woes, distils fron your
blest lips.

520
While the thoughtless many glide down the summer

stream of vice,
you stem the rushing tide, and steer your steady bark
upward.

521
Never, durst the fisher cast his net in the lake be-
low;

168 VtrsykatioTim

not would ever swallow wet her passing wing in its
waves*

From beneath, th' unfathom'd lake sudden sent forth

strange music ;
&nd the solemn sounds of death sail'd slowly o'^r the

waters.

Yet the wishes I disclose, arise not from discon*

tent:
my heart overflows with gratitude for blessings I

enjoy.
/ 524. — The double-blossomed Cherry-tree.
How this tree shone lately, array'd in beauty's fauest

vest !
I fondly said, '^ Thou shalt henceforward be my

garden's pride :"
But now not a vestige of my late fav'rite tree re-
mains.
y^see its snowy blossoms in scattered heaptf all

around

I stand rebuk'd, who could turn my eyes thus from

real worth,
and prefer to that worth a flow'r, which only

blooms and dies*.

* The doubie-blossonied cherry-tree produocs no fruit.

Ffni/ication. 169

Iambics of eight $yllable$^ with alternate rhimc —
1. e. the first line rhiming with the third -^ the second,
with the fourth.

Thou object of my mournful tear! when last we met,

iby smiles were glad.
But thy sun is now set in shades^ no more to cheer

mine eyes\vith smiles.
. 526
In our youthful days, how gaily on the vernal plain

we gamboVd,
where the pure streamlet strays swiftly to the main,

through woodlands and vales !
.3£7
Each sabbath morn^ duly is seen, with herbs and

flowVs, a weeping troop
of virgins and youths, to adorn, within the sacred

green, thy grave.

To the subjugated mind fell Despotism shows his

giant form,
as the meteor of the storm, the horror, the dread of

mankind, glares.

529
While, with bare bosom, Jessy rov'd, the boisterous

blast of heav'n roar'd loud :
the fleecy snow was driven iu heaps: the blackening

tempest fiU'd the air.

170 Versification,

530
Sorrow's child ! tranquil and serene be thy rest ! be

thy slumbers soft !
Thy smiles have oft beguil'd my tears, and sooth'd
my agitated breast.
531
Oh ! see yon chief go to battle. As he flies, the stroke

arrests him.
He falls ; and the husband and the father dies^ in
that fatal blow.

530,
Too full to speak, Laura*s fond heart sigh*d a soft

adieu to Arthur.
As Arthur withdrew mournfully, down her cheek
stole love's gentle tear.
533
Now releas'd from the cares of worldly business,

impatient Arthur
repairs with ardor to the spot where all his cares
ceas'd in rapture.

534
The moon, with pallid beam, shot temporary light

through louring clouds,
on the rippled scream now glitt'ring, now fading fcom
the sight slowly.

535
What mournful voice sounds sad alon-g the windiBg

vale with plaintive sighs?
What piercing shrieks of Anguish rise, aad. float
upon the passing gale ? ♦ *

Ver^i/ication. 171

636
Each fragrant flow'r, that drinks the deve, shall spring

around my ivied porch ;
and Lucy, in russet gown and blue apron^ shall sing

at her wheel.

537
Contending hosts drop the brandish'd blade from

their grasp, in mute surprise^
forget th' affray, and turn on th* angelic maid their

eyes, transported.

538
At op'ning day, the thrush, high on the thorn, be-
gins Ills sprightly song ;
nnd the blackbird tunes his varied lay^ where the

streamlet winds along.

539. -— To Friendship.
Men call thee vain, changing, sordid, scarce knawn,

ani 'are to see, on earth ;
aod un ihee they lay the heavy blame^ when they

feel L.jse tread I'ry's pain.
5K)
As late I strayVi alo.ig the flow'ry side of Derwenl's

murmVing sueain,
in the sunny glatle I spied a rosy sweet-briar bush

full blooming.
Its bWssoms, as they spread ocr the glassy wave,

glow'd with crimson die ;
and their delicate perfume was thed on the gales that

sported by.

1 72 FefsificatioH.

To the spot returning this day^ to view the buah so

richly blown, •"

I mark'd its lot with tearful eye ; for its crimson bloom

was all gone.

541. — To the Nightingale.
Why, tell me why thy troubled heart sighs for crer,

plaintive warbler ?
Cannot that glowing sky^ these groveSi impart to

thy woes a solace i
See, Nature renews her robe of gayest green, at thy

wish'd return :
and, when Nature wakes the rural scene, can thy

wayward bosom mourn ?
In dews Aurora steeps the new-born flow'rets of the

dale^ for thee ;
On the western gale she strews ber fragrance with

Ub'ral hand, for thee.
542
Gentle Sleep, come! stea) softly upon my senses

with drowsy charms :
In thy downy arms infold me, and set thy seal on

my eye-lids,

543
Fancy ! come, weave for thy vot'ry the dreams that

own thy soft control.
Lift thy wand high : my willing soul shall bless and

believe thy fictions.
I long have known the louring sky, the with'ring

blast, the cheerless path.
Fancy ! come, aid mc : we'll descry a world of our

own, far happier.

Feni/kation* 175

There fine forms alone, with softenM mien and gentle

voice, shall visit :
nor cold Distrust, nor Selfishness, nor severe Pride,

sKall be seen there.
And Hope shall light up our skies and our landscapes

with her gay sunshine ;
and Sensibility, with dewy eyes and swelling heart,

stray there.
The sentient plant, whose feeling frame turns away

from the stranger's touch,
exists but in the soften'd beam, which art can con-
vey around it.
Distressed by evVy passing gale, by coarser stems

that rise near it,
oppressed by evVy rude impulse — expose it, and it

dies, like me.

In the following stanzas, of the same measure as the
preceding, the rhime is confined to the second and fourth
lines,

544
Thus propitious Nature grac'd my natal hour, with

indulgent care^
and gave the flower, the sunshine, and the gale, with
superior sweetness.
545
He went, and he spake sweet mercy's mild accents,

with a parent's voice.
His love returned, he long'd to strain his sorrowing
child within his artns.

p 3

^ 174 y Venificaiion.

Fambics often yllables, with^altemate rhime.

546
Mark how the frequent gale delights to play around

the j^rave of her I srill adore,
forsakes the rosy how'r and spicy grove, to wave the
grass that clothes this hallow'd clay.
547
Immortal Liberty, the heay'nly guardian of the Bri-
tish isles, stood triumphant,
and, With' fav'ring soriles, view,'d her gallant sobs,
undaunted heroes of the flood or field.
548
Pareweil, fleeting, false hopes, and vain desires !

Anxious, fond wishes, that within my breast
dwell with im-availing anguisb and sighs, leave me,
oh ! to my wonted rest leave me.
549
Alas ! 1 myself must never know the consolation I

would grant to others ;
but, if I want the means, the pow'r to bless, I can
commiserate, though not bestow.
550
When the orient sun expands-his roseate ray o'er the

sky, the rising morn is fair ;
and the meek radiance of departing day fades lovely
to the bard's enraptured eye.
551
The flow'r, though so sweet once, so lovely to the
eye, thus fades, nipp'd by the frozeli gale :

Fersificaiioh. 175

whcQ boistVous storms assail^ the tall oaks, torn
from the earthy thus lie a mighty ruin.

The shipwrecked stranger's weary bones should he

far, far beyond the haled btllow's reach :
but blest the hands, that, with pious care, supply

this hasty grave on the wave- worn beach.
553
Oh ! could I hide the pencil'd story of my early

years from Memory's steadfast eye!
She heaves the lin^Vitig sigh o'er tlie sad view, and

drops her fruitless tears at evVy glance.
554
The lucid orb of day now gilds the verdant beauties

of the lawn with mellow tints : *

his slowly-setting ray smiles unclouded-— sure pre-
sage of a mild dawn succeeding.
555
Heav'n saw her meek submission to her maker's will, .

and with pitying eyes view'd the maid,
and, from ev'ry future ill, caught her pure soul to

the blissful mansions of the skies.
556
Pomp shall no more disjlay her charms for him, nor

ceremony with a smile greet him.
Servile swarms of sycophants, veil'd in flattVy, shall

no more attend bioi; to beguile.

176 FersificaHon.

Iambics often ^ikibks ; the first line to rhime with the
fourth — the second, xsnth the third,

557

From thy bright abode, O Mercy ! descend ; aed bid
Ambition's direful contests'cease.

Oh ! haste ! and bring sweet smiling Peace with thee,
and all the blessings bestow'd by her hand.
358

Ah ! I thought once, this bosom, that had throbbM
so much with varied gangs, was steel'dat length

by sullen apathy, nor would more yield to sensibi-
lity's impressive touch.
569

The shepherd, rous'd from his dream, hears a sound
of rustling plumes, that seek a distant clime ;

and their clamors strike his ears at intervals, as he
marks them steer their sublime course.
560

I do not dread the vivid lightning, glancing, with
awe-inspiring glare, o'er the plain ;

nor all the horrors, now spread around me, give one
moment's pain to my aching breast.
56\.—Tothe Out.

Melancholy, cheerless bird ! I woo thee. Thy fu-
nereal cry is soothing to me.

Build thy lonely nest iiere ; and be thy sullen wail*
ings ever heard nigh my dwelling.

Virrijkation. 177

Iambics of eight syllables.--^ Epithets'^ arc to be
added to ike substantives which are printed in ItqKcs,
and each line to make one verse.

562
Tbroagh yon grove of mournful yevrs,
I muse with solitary steps*

563 ^
The sland'rlng thief h worse
Than the rogue who steals your purse.

564
One night, when slumbers shed
Their poppies o*er my head,

565
Does not the ox bow
His neck, to draw the plough i

566
Now Cambrians f tvilds appear^
Her drear valleys, and rude mountains.

* Although the word, Epithet, in its original significatioDy
simply means an adjectivcy it is, in treating of poetry, exclu-
tirely employed to designate an ornamental adjective — orna-
mental to the poetry, I mean, whether ornamental or dispara-
ging to the subject to which it is applied — as bounteous nature,
thn /ottering sun, the sordid miser, the noxious viper.— •>¥bere
ao adjective is not used for poetrc ornament^ but is necessary to
complete the sense, it is not, in this point of view, considered
as an epithet : ex. gr. An old gentleman of high rank met a
y9ung man of low degree.

t Cambria is the Latin name for Wales.

178 Versification,

567
In ev'ry shade, fancy now dreads
The midnight robber's blade^

5f)8
Released from Winter's arms,
Spring unfolds now her early charms.

569
Is there no pow'r in nature
To sooih iiffliciion^ lonely hour,
To blunt the edge of disease,
And leach these winiVy shades to please?

570
When, sunk in despair by guilt.
Repentance breathes her prayr,
Thy vo CO cheers the nuppUant ;
And mercy calms hcvfear^.

571
As he who travels Libya's plains,
Whcro the limi n\^us Lawless,
Is seis'ci wiih fiear and dismay^
When theybe obstrufts his way

572 ^
Methought T spy'd a spacious road,
(And trees adom'd its side)
Frequented l)y a crowd
Of mortals, loud and vain.

573
Before us lay a heath,
And clouds obscur'd the day ;
In spires rose the darkness ;
The lightnings flash'd their fires.

Versification. 179

574
G wisdom ! if thy control
Can sooth the sickness of the sou],
Can bid the passions cease.
And breathe the cahn of peace,
Wisdom ! 1 bless thy sway,
And wiil ever, ever obey.

575
Whene'er we meet, the houcs flow soft,
And virtue is our treat.
Our breasts know no envy ;
And hence we fear no foe.
Ambition ne'er attends our walks ;
And hence we ask no friends.

Ten-syllable Iambics, — Epithets to be added to the

zvords printed in Italic,
576
What offence springs from aai'rous causes ;

What contests rise from trivial things...,

577
Goddess, say, what motive could impel
A lord t'assault a gentle belle ?

578. — The Hunted Stag.
He flies so fast, that his eye
Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry-

579
By my sire, I claim superior lineage.
Who waFm'd the clod with heav'nly fire.

580. — ' The Mariner.
With day his labors cease not ;
But perils and toils mark his nightly way.

180 Versification.

58}
MemVy wak«s me now to the review
Of joys, ihat, like the morning dew, faded.

582
As the grave M use awakes the strings.
In airy rings the Graces dance round you.

583
The years lag slow, worn in anguish;
And these conquWors mock their captives' woe.

584
A happy offspring bless'd his board:
Fruitful were his fields, and well stor'd his barns.

585
There his horses^ warm with toil, browse
Their canopy of pendent boughs.

586 ^ '

When hell's agent found him so stagg'ring.
While virtue scarce maintain'd her ground....

587
Not that I contemn your father's mildness ;
Bat force becomes the diadem.

588
Nor happier they, where sandy wastes extend.
Where Arabs tend their parch'd cattle.

589
And Fame's trumpet shall tell to the world,
Nebon fell in Victory's arm*.

590
The AanJ of Time may heal perchance
The guilty pangs, the remorse I feel.

Vemfication. 181

591
To this $hore we bid thee welcome,
Whereadverse winds no more shall thwart thy course.

592
Twas night. The chiefs lie beside their vessel.
Till morn had purpled o'er the sky ;
Then launch, and hoist the mast : gales,
By Phoebus supplied, fill the sails.

593
The quarrels of the mortal state
Are far unworthy of your debate, Gods!
Let men employ their days in strife,
We * in constant joy and peace.

The woodbine, faintly streak*d with red, blows here,
And rests its head on ev'ry bough :
Its branches xneei round the young ash.
Or crown the hawthorn with its odors.

595
The prophet spoke ; and, with sl frown,
From his throne the monarch started :

* My young readers will observe, that this passage, though
from the pen of Mr. Pope^ is not grammatically correct; for^
on supplying the ellipsis, tliey will find, ** let we employ onr .
days;'' which is a solecism. It should have been us: bat, as
fify standif'g singly in this place, would hnvc He en harsh and
aukward, he ou^ihi to have either repeated the verb Let^ with an
infinitive atf»rr m«, t)r adopted t^e <»ther form of the imperative,
in some such manner as the following —

Pass we our years in constant peace and joy.

182 Versification.

Choler fiird his breast, that boiFd with ire ;

And ihej^re flash'd from his eye-balls.

59fi
The prey, in each conquest, is thine;
Though the danger and sweat of the day [be*] mine.
I bear to my ships some trivial present ;
Or praises pay the wounds of war.

597
Let not Britannia's sons deem ignoble
The task that guides the team or sows the corn,
That watches o'er the grain, anxious,
And clothes the /)/am with crops.

Now has Autumn assumed her reigfiy
And the mists remain upon the hills :
The whirlwind roars o'er the heath;
The torrent pours through rpcky vales.

S^g.^The lost Child,
The mother flies through ev'ry grove.
Tries each glade, each path-way,
'Till the light leaves disclose the boy,
Long stretch'd in repose on the wood-moss.

6oa

They pressed the ground, laid close by each other ;
Their bosoms pierc'd with many a wound.
Nor were they well alive, nor wholly dead :
But some signs of life appear.

• The word between crotchets is to be omitted.

Versification* 183

.601
Should sleep surprise, on Missisippi's bank,
The peasant f in ambush close lies
The alligator, gorg'd with blood :
Beneath ihejiood he lurks con^eal'd.
Or ranges around the shore, fierce,
Climbs the ifl»A;,and crouches on the ground.

602
Beneath the hawthorn shade I oft have seen
A rustic maid reclin'd on the turf,
With anxious eye watching her lambs
Sporting round their dams in circles;
Have heard her, o'ercome with heat, hail
T!\ie freshness of the rising gale.

603. — "Rooks and Crows.
The flock goes increasing from field to field.
Most fonnidablefoes to level crops.
HYiQ pluncCrtrs well know their danger,
And, on some bough, place a watch.
Yet oft, bs surprise, the gunner,
As they rise, will scatter death among them.

604
May the spirits of the dea : descend oft.
To -watch tjie slumbers of a friend ;
Raand his ev'ning walk, unseen, to hover.
And, on the green, hold converse ;
To hail the spot where firsi grew their friendship,
Aod nature and heav'n open'd to their view.

605
O'er dale and hill, Night extends her mngs,

9«

1^4 Verbatim.

And spreads a till on shadowy earth ;

The pictured forms of natwre £ade^

And sink in shadey wehing.

The dews descend, unheard : the i^how'rs, UHseepj

Cool the earthf revive the^ot^Vs...,

606
The laborers bless tlieir home now.
When midnight and the tempest come.
The farmer waives, and, with dread, sees
The shafts of heav'n gle^m round his head.
The clotid roars re-iterated.
Shakes his roof, and jars his doors^

607
O'er the village green steal twilight's detstf,
To harmonise the scene with magic tints.
The hum is still, that broke through the hamlet,
When, round the ruins of their oak.
To hear the minstrel play, the peasants fiock'd,
And carols and games clos'd the day*

60S.— To Memory.
His ev'ning ray when Joy's sun has shed.
And Hope's meteors cease to play ;
When clouds on clouds close ih^ prospect,
Thy star still glows serenely through the gloom;.
She gilds the brow of night, like yon orb*,
With the magic of reflected light.

609
Distracting thoughts rul'd his bosom by turns^
Now fir'd by wrath, and now cool'd by reason.

- ■ ■ ' »■ ■ ! ■ ■■■ ■ *■ m, I , ■.. l <

• Tli« Mood.

Vers^cation. , 185

That prompts his hand to dt aw the mord,

Force through the Greeks, and pierce their lord;

This whispers soft, to control his vengeance.

And calm the tempest of his soul.
610

Achilles bore not his loss so r

Bat, returning to the sAare, sad,.

He bung o'er the margin of the deep,
That kindred deep, from which sprung his mother %
There, baih'd in tears of disdain and anger,
Lamented loud to the maiuy thus.

611. — The Farmer's Boy.
He hies, with many a shrug, from the fire-side^
Glad, if the moon salute his eyes.
And, through the siUlness of the nighr.
Shed her beams of light on his path.
The distant stile he climbs with saunt'ring step,.
Whilst all wears a smile around him ;.
There views the clouds driv'n in clusters.
And all the pageantry of heav'n.

612
The goddess flies swift* to the seas,
Jove to his mansion iw the skies..

* As some grammarians loudly condemn an adjective thus
employed in conjunction with a verb, and maintain, that, in alT
such cases, in poetry equally as in prose, tiie adverb alone is
correctly admissible, viz, " the goddess flies swe/'f/y" — let me
caution my young readers against that doctrine, which, if
adopted, would prove the r^iin of poetry, aod debase it to the.

136 Ven^eation.

The s}fmd of tb* immortals wait

The god comiogi and^ from th^ir thrones of .state>

Arising silent, rapt iny^ar,

Appear before the Majesty of heav'n«

While Jove assumes the throne, they stand trembling;

All but the god's queen alone.

low level of tame, vulgar prose. In poetry, . sm adjective tta^
very properly \i^ thus U8ed-<-agr(BeiBg9 of co«)r$ey.witb the nomi-
native to the verh, as liere, << tkt goddess, sw{ft in her motioB,
flies :*^ and, in cases innumerable, it is by far more elegant and
poetic than the adverb. That such has ever been the unanimous
opinion of our best and most admired poets — in short, of a!i oar
poets most distinguished- for correctness of diction and taste^is
evident from their own practice, in which they have judicioosty
copied the example of the Greek aod Bonian bards, wb«, nradi
oftener than our English writers, use the adjective iu lieu of the
adverb, and with very fine poetic effect, as mustjbe acknowledged
by every reader who is capable of perceiving and relishing their
beauties. To iwy conception, the mode or quality, thus ex-
pressed by the adjective, appears more perfectly identified with
the substantive-^becoming, for the moment at least, one of its
characteristic features, and forming with it a more complete uuity
of object, than could possibly result from the addition of the ad-
verb. — At the same time, I cannot approve the improper substi-
tution of the adjective for the adverb, which too often takes
place in careless conversation, as when a person says he is" very
badf^ instead.of" very ill:** and, although Dr. Johnson (without
authority) has inadvertently suffered Bad, for Sick, to steal into
his dictionary, I advise my young readers to avoid the phrase,
kst they lay themselves open to such answer as a gentleman of
my acquaintance jocularly made to a lady who complained that
she was " very fcad"— ** I always thought you bad: but now,
tbat you confess it, I cannot doubt of your badness,**

Lo! Faith's visions burst upon the sights

And put to flight the host q( Fear«

Terror's Myrmidons recede afar^

Before the beams of Hope's star,

That shoots rays, for ever dear sparkling.

Through Sorrow's realms, and Doubt'^ hemiqAere ;

Cheers the pilgrim on his way.

With a happier day, and finer proapeets ;

And points the sc^e, oppressed bjr toils,

To lasting pleasures, and a land of rest.

6i4
From this cliff', whose impending rough brpw
Frowns o'er the cataract that foams betow^
I view the plain, where manj a hand
Tills the land for another's gain.
Borne on the ev'hing breeze, their ^ng
Stamps images of ease on my soul.
Ah ! why, dead to man and social converse^
Do I alone tread the numrUain,
Where Nature, stubborn and coy, seenis to fly
The human race, and defy all approach ?

615
When gates difi^use on closing flow'rs
The fragrant tribute of the dews,
When, at het pail, the milkmaid chants,
And, o'er the vale, reapers whistle,
Charm'd by th6 murmurs of the shade,
I stray'd along the river's banks.
And, through the twilight way, calmly musing,

188 FemficaHon.

1 fram'd my rustic by in pensive mood ;
When lo ! a golden gleam, from clouds,
O'er the shadowy stream pour'd splendors,
And its guardian queen arose from the ware.
Known by her stole of green,
616
Oh ! say, Muse, whose purer birth
Disdains the low ties of earthy
By what images shall be defin'd
The nature of th' eternal mind ?
Or how shall thought explore the height.
When to adore is all that r ason can ?„•••
Through the tracts of space.
Go, Muse, and trace present Godhead.....
Could thy fond flight beyond the starry sphere
The morning^s lucid pinions bear,
His presence should shine confessed there,
His arm arrest thy course there.

617. — The imprisoned Debtor^
Hear the debtor's pray'r, Ostranger !
From despair let pity snatch him.
Though here guih and folly revel, '
Many a tear the guiltless oft shed ;
And they devour many a wrong in silence.
And feel the hand of pow'r.
For aid, my woes, my wants, cry loud in vain.
Since laws are obey'd with rigor.
On sickly and damp bed my wife lies there^
Her spirits and youih fled, her peace destroyed..
She saw her child expire, with teailess eye —
rndiffrent to all — her sole desire, death.

f^trri/BcohM* '189

lasting infamy ! Odhgrttee

To chiefs of manly raoe^ and youihl

In you and the gods I tru^ed, to see

Greece victorious, and het navy fiee.

Ah no ! you disclaim the cemb&t^

And one cfo^ clouds all her former faiBe.

Heav'ns ! what u prodigy these •eyes survey.

Unseen, unthought, WW this Say I

Fly we at length from Troy's bands oft conqner'd ?

And falls our fleet by such hands--^

A straggling train, a nmt,

Not born to glories of the plain ;

lAkefawnSf pursued from hill to hill,

A prey to ev'ry savage of the wood f

1 dart my eye, with look erect.

Seem wing'd to part, and gaiq my natiye sky.

I strive, but, alas! strive in vain, to mount.

Tied with magic chain to thi^ globe.

Now from pole to pole I range with swift thought,

View worlds roll around their eeiktre$;

What/>oa?V5 guide their motions

Through the same paths of void*

I trace the comet's tail,

And in a scAle weigh ihe phneis.

While I eager pursue these thou^Us,

Some tri/le, offered to my view,

A gnat, an insect of the meanest kind.

190 Versificatioru

Erase* from my mind the image :
Some want, importunate, craving.
Vile as the mastiff at my gate,
Calls off this reasoning me from truths
And tells me I'l^i a brute as much as \f/t^

620. *— May.
Hail, May^ dear to nature's votaries !
Thou loveliest offspring of the year !
In thy train advance the Graces^
Move their/eef, and form the dance.
Village maids bring their garlands to thee.
Feel the springs and biHsh with health-^
A little spare, ere years o'eishkde,
To flourish like thee, and to tacle like ihee.
Hail, chosen month of old, when shtyw'n
Nurs'd \\\v flowers, and enrich'd the meads ;
When fruits ran in disorder, un< ropp'd,
God conver^'d v^iih man, and on earth peace dwelt;
What time, Irom dark, wild, imd stormy Chaos,
Sprang creation, and spring emii'd ;
When the air, shedding health and life,
Chas'd all darkness ; at whose breath, Despair
Might feel a sullen joy, and Disease
Spring from her couc^h, to catch the breeze.
The Zephyrs stray'd through th' Elysian fields thus,
And sooth'd the heroes shade, murm'ring;
Sigh'd, sadly pleasing, through the cypress wood,
Whose branches wav'd o'er Lethe's flood.

* Grammar is here sacrificed to metre* The verb should btre
been in the singular number, Evits.

Femfication. 1^1

6^\. — To the Deity.
Let Israel praise thee potent.
And raise their homage to lay narae.
Let Egypt's land declare tliee potent God,
That teit thy awfully severe justice.
How did thy frown benight the land,
Nature reversed, how own thy command,
When elements forgot their use.
And the sun felt thy 6/0/;
When earth produced the pestilential brood.
And into blood the stream was criipson'd !
How deep the horrors of that n%^^>
The fright how wild, aiid the terror how strong,
When thy sword pass'd o'er the land.
And infants and oien breath'd their last at once!
How did thy arm convey thy favor'd tribes.
Thy light point the way, *
Ocean divide to their march.
The wat'ry wall on either side distinct.
While the procession sped through the deep,
And saw the wonders of its bed!
Nor long they march'd, ^tiil, in the rear, blackening.
The tyrant and his host appear.
Plunge down the steep — the waves obey thy nod.
And whelm th^ storm beneath the sea.

Iambics of eight syllable^ wiih atiemate thimt.^
EffM^ts to be added to the words printed in Italic,

Zephyrs fan the groye now,.

And scatter perfumes around ;
And feather'd songsters^ warbling lave.

Are found in evVy bmh.

Oh ! is there not, when eve

Spreads o*er the vide her ligbitexture^
Some fay, that loves to leave

'Ret pastime in the dale.
And, where sits the poet

To view the mi^ls spread around^
Flits across his mental vision.

And wraps in peace his^thoughtsf

Iambics of ten syllables^ with alternate rhkne. — jBj«-
thets to be added to. the words printed An Italic.

624. -^ On the Death of a Daughter^
So fair> so gay, where is fled my hlossomj.

Ah ! see I by Death *tis ravag'd :
See her honors spread in the dust.
All pale, and blast e(i by his breath.
625
Go, rose, and on Ella^s breast bloom ;
And, while thy buds adorn the maid,

Fersificatum. 193

^e blest beneath the sunshine of her eyes :
But, ah ! fair Bov9*r, conceal thy thorn.

When, in Utopian dreams, youth
On the sea of life first launches.
He trusits to sail on pleasure's streams, —
Aias ! to woe and scenes of strife he Tvakes*
687. — £i>cwmg.
The shades o'erspread the west :

Before the breeze, the clouds sweep on :
Labor leaves his sons to rest ;
And, among the trees, murmurs sound.
628. — NfgA^
The poor enjoy now within yon hamlet
^ The bliss that flies the great and rich.
No factious cares annoy their breasts,
No sorrows agitate, no guilt disturbs.

629
Verdure adorns the plain here.,

There the team, and the grey fallows,
The farm's mansion, and the village fan*,
Whose tow'r reflects the solar beam.
630. — Spring.
Spring ! I taste thy gales :

Pregnant with life, they cheer my souL
Creation smiles : the dales, the hills, the woods^

Hail the morning of the new-born year.
Expand your blown, ye groves :
Ye streams, warble: ye &M(f$, unfold :
Waft all the plenty of your perfume;

194 Versificaiion.

And wave, wave your leaves of gold, ye flow'j^eti*
63 1 . — To a Snow-drop.
Harbinger of springs welcome !

Thy beauties caught nay eye.
Solitary flow'r, Fve pluck'd thee, to bring

Thy tender frame where no blasts are nigh.
1 see, thou canst scarce rear thy head;

Vor frosts pierce thy lovely form :
But to a^safer bed 1*11 transplant thee :

My fire shall warm, and my hand shall raise thee.
632
Behold ! past is the storm :

The sun relumes the Jace of clay :
Each^onyV, that shrunk before the blast.

Spreads to the cheering ray its bosom.
Its reviving tints glow bright and more bright ;

Its petals catch the gale:
Zephyis blow o'er its breast.

And through the vale waft new fragrance.
633. — Summer,
Spring withdraws now her milder-beaming raj',

And summer, glowing 6'er the com,
To these northern climes leads the day,

Borne leful^ent from Afiic's plains.
No cloud steers its course across the welkin.

To pour its showers upon the earth :
No fount. .in bubbles from its source:

No deti's refresh ihe Jlow^rs.

634 j

O Nature I may thy sway ever i

Versification* 195

Lead me a voiVy to thy shrine. .
May Qo passion chase away that -sense,

That feels a bliss in charms like thine;
Whether, enshrin'd in autumn's clouds,

You* touch the /eaves with yellow tints.
Or raise, before the reaper's niind,

Grain to fill his future sheaves ;
The wandWer with the Zephyr's breeze

Whether you cheer 'mid summer's blaxe,
Or paint the trees with liveliest green,

When Spring's warmth endears her milder days.
635. — Evening.
When eve, fair child of day.

Throws o'er the verdant ground her mantle,

* I wish niy joong readers to observe, that, after Thy and
Thine preceding, uniformity requires Tmu i ovchestyraisest, &c
in the stn^^uiar number; and tknt a sudden transition from Thou
and TAy to You and Ybtir, or the reverse, ouglit, if possible, to
be avoided ; though metrical necessity, and a regard to euphony
occasionally compel poets to fall into that irregularity, whieh
however, is much l^ss blamable than Mr. Pope's ungrammattc
change of number in the following passage, where the nominative
is singular, and the verbs plural*—

Thou first great ca^ise, least understoodi

Who all my sense confin'd
To know but this, that thou art good.

And that myself am blind;
Yet gavejne, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill.
And, binding nature fast in fate^
Left free the human will,...**

196 Verification.

How s^veet to stray adown the vah,

While Cynthia sheds her radiance round !
How sweet to hear the bird of Voe *

Pour to the grove her murmurs,
As the warbled numbers flow through the air.

Fraught with the melody of love !
How sweet to mark the landscape near.

The. tow'r, and the cottage !
How sweet to hear the village peal,

Borne on the gale at this silent soft hour !

The first line to rhimt zsith the fourth--^ the second
with the third.

636
Ah ! pleasing scenes, where my childhood stray'd once,

Securely blest in innocence I

No passions iospir'd my breast then ;
Vo fears swa/d my bosom.

Iambics of eight syllables. — The Italic words to be
altered to other expressions, either sjfnom/mous or an
some degree equivalent.

637
Why can r\o poet, with magical strain.
Steep the heart of pain in sleep?

* The Nightingale.

Versificatiou. 197

638
Possess'd of conscious rectitude.
Can griV/" pierce the good man's bosom?

'639
Justice shall yet open her e^'es.
Yet arise terrific in anger,
And tread on the tyrant's bosom.
And make oppression groan oppressed.

Iambics of ten si/llables. — The Italic words to be
altered, as above ; and the elided syllables to be disco»
vered by thepupifs own sagacity**

640
While former desires still continue within.
Repentance is only want of power to commit sins^

641
The white-robed priest stretches forth his upraised

hands:
Ev^ery voice is hushed : attention bends, leaning.

* N. B. When two or more Italic words come together with-
out a line separating them, they are to be taken cdliectively, and
altered to some other word or phrase of similar import. But,
when they are divided by a perpendicular line interposed, each
division is to be separately taken, and altered independently of
the other. The following example will make this plain —

She receives with gralitude what heaven has sent,

And, rich in poverty, possesses [ contentment —

She gratefully receives what heav^i has sent,^,

And, rich in poverty, enjoys content —
in which lines, the words, with ^ratitude^ are together, altered to
gratefully — possesses, separately altered Xo€iijoj,s — ar.d conUnt*
ment, to content,

K 3

198 VernfUation.

642
Whence flows the strain that salutes the. dawn of

morning?
The Red-breast sings in the flowering haw-th&m.

643
Now unbounded snows disfigure the withered heatk.
And the dim sun hardly wanders through the storm.

644
When her husband \ dies, the widowed Indian
Mounts the drea^ul pile^ and braves the funeral (ires.

645
Alas ! how un-atailing is pity's tear with thee.
The orphan's terror , or the widow's anguish !

646
Not by the assistance that marble or brass affords.
Lives the remembrance of the noble patriot.

647
I would soon> Yi\i\i pleasure, \ exchange existence
For the tasting sleep of one endless night.

648
Courageous and undismayed as the god of war.
When prostrate legions fall round his chariot.

649
Here early rest makes early risiog certain:
Disease or does not come, or finds easy cure, —
Much prevented by neat and simple diet,
Or speedily starved out again, if it enter.

050
He comes ! tremendous Brama shakes the sunless skj
With murmuring anger, and thunders from above.

Under his warrior form, heaveji'a fiery horse
Gallops on the tempest^ and paws the light clouds.

651
He ceased; and the cro2z?d still cow^i/zwed silent.
While rapt* attention acknowledged the power of

music:
Then, loud as when the whirlwinds ofwirUer blow.
The thundering applauses flow froii all voices.

65«
When the Egyptians^ a rude untntored people,
Learned to ornament the obelisk with wild figure*,
AnA fashion the idol godf in ductile c/ay,
The polished needle and loom took their origin.
1#—

* Let my ^oung readers carefully distinguish this elegant and
expressive Latin word from the common English Wrapped, with
which it is» too often confounded ; — a circumstance, to which it
perhaps owes its exclusion from some of our modern dictionaries,
wader the mistaken idea of its being only a corruption u>f tlie
English word, — Rapt (of the same origin as Rapture, Rapid,
Rapine,nnd Rapacious, whicli have no connexion with wrapping)
signifies snatched or hurried away^ transported, enraptured, eo
$ta$ied. TtMis Pope —

Rapt into future tinies, the bard begun :

" A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a son.''

+ Idol god, — This expression, which I print as two separate
words, suggests to me that it may not be improper in this place
to notice the hyphen, which has, of late years, been employed in
our typography to a truly blaraahle excess, and, on some occa-
^ons^ to the uiter perversion of ihe syntax and the sense, as, for
example, in Each other and One another, which we somedmes
see improperly coupled with the hyphen as compounds^ though
totally distinct in the grammatical construction ; since^ in thos«

200 Versification.

653
How short is the life of man ! Time descends rapidly :
Our friends and our fathers go away with him ;

elliptic phrases, there is always a suppres«-ed word understood Ca
intervene, and to govern the word other or another. — Without
entering into a general and raJHute investigation of the various
uses of the hyplien, I shall'here offer a few cursory remarks on
some of the cases in which I conceive that it ought to be inserted
or omitted; previously observing;, that ttie rules are not to be
taken separately, hut in connexion, as far as they agree;-— that
the accent will, in most cases, prove a sure guide; and the car
may more safely be trasted than the eye. — 1. When each of
two contiguous substantives retains its original accent, omit- the
hyphen, as M&ater bdila'er* Where the latter loses or alters its
accent, inse; ^ the hyphen, as ship-builder. — 2. When two sub-
stantives are in Apposition^ and eacl) is separately applicable to
the person or thing designated, omit the hyphen, as the Lord
chancellor t who is both a lord and a chancellor. When they are
not in Apposition, and only one of the two is separately applica-
ble to the person or thing, insert the!»yphen, as a h'jrse-dealer,
who is a dealer, but not a horse. — 3. When the first substantive
serves the purpose of an adjective expressing the matter or sub-
stance of which the second consists, and may be placed after it
with Of (not denoting possession) omit the hyphen, as a Silkgomng
a Cork jacket, u e. a gown of silk , a jacket of cork. Wiieu the first
does not express the matter or substance of the second, and may
be placed after it with O/* (denoting (possession) or with For or
Belonging to, insert the hyphen, as School-master, Play-time^
Cork-screw, Laundry^maid, i. e. Master o/*a school, Time qforftr
play, Screw/or corks,JVIaid belonging to the laundry. — 4, Between
an adjective and its substantive (used as such in the sentence) omit
the hyphen, as High sheriff", Prime minister. When the adjective
and its substantive are together used as a kind of conipouud

Versification. SOI

While we, melancholy mourneraj^Iag behind, to shed

tears, , .

To utter J un-availing sighs, and keep wakeful vigilsr

6j4
As wild imaginary j%wre5 | terrify
The child all daricling in the obscurity of night.
Fond dreams, as wild as infant terrors, dismay

Our souls vf'xihfear in the glare of day-light.

" . f ' -^. ....fci ■ ,.».. - ■■ .1 ■■ ^ , I ■ ,

adjective to another substantiTe, inttrt the hyphen between the
two farmer, as High-church doctrine, — 5, When an adjeetWo
or adverb, and a participle immediately -foUowing, are^ together
used as a kind of compound adjective, merely expressing aa
inherent quality without reference to immediate action, and (in
the order of syntax) precede the substantive to which they are
joined, insert the hyphen, as a quick-sailing vessel. When they
huply immediate action, and (in the order of syntax) follow the
substantive, omit the hyphen, as The ship quick sailing o'er the
deep, or Quick sailing o'er the deep, the ship pursues her
course. — The same distinction may likewise be made iu other
cases, which do not exactly fall under those descriptions, as the
ubff9€'mentioned circumstances, and the circumstances above
mentioned, — The preceding rules are undoubtedly liable to many
exceptions, which I cannot here undertake to enumerate. Im*
' perfect, however, as they are, they may prove useful : and it is
worthy of remark, that, in every one of the cases which I have
noticed, the accent, as before observed, is a sure guide. In the
following, its effects will be evident. A glass Muse, a tin mdn,
an iren m6uld, a negro merchant, pronounced as separate words,
each with its natural accent, will mean a house made of glass^
a man made of tin, a mould made of iron, a merchant who is a
negro : but a gldss-house, a tin-man, an iron-mould, a x^cgro'^ner"
chant f taken as compounds, with a change of accent^ will mean a
house for manufacturing glass, a man who works in tin, a mould
or stain caused by the-rust of iron, a merchant who buys and sells
negroes.

4oa Versification.

655
The unfortunate \ maid strays, in profound despair.
Through tangled paths, and roads \ not frequented.
While cold vapors shroud the moon's pale ray^
As she roams, wild, by the murmuring stream.

656 [ship.
Wicked men, professing the hallowed name of friend'
Form a covenant of shame instead of it,

A dark confederation agaiust the laws

Of virtue, and the glorious cause of religion*

657 [her,
Extended | upon that bier in death's last heavy shm-
Lies, cold and motionless, the friend for whom I

shed tears.
658. — The Picture of Venus,
When first the Rhodian's imitative art arrayed
Venus in ihe shade of Cyprus,
The happy master mixed in \\\^ picture
Each look that delighted him in the beautiful women

of Greece/
Faithful to nature free from fault, he borrowed a

grace
From every more beautiful form, and swwter coun*
tenance,

639
Luminous as the pillar rose at the command of heaven,
When the Israelites | travelled along the wilderness,
Blazed, during the night, on solitary wilds, afar.
And told the path — a star, that never set:
So, celestial Genius ! in thy divine career.

VersyUation, * £03

Hope is thy star : her light ever is thine.

660
Babylon !* to grace the feast, thy daughters
Weave the flowing robe, and paint the vest ornamented

wiih flowers :
They braid the glossy hair with wreaths of roses;
They color the cheek, which Nature formed so beati*

Learn the delicate step, the glance which subdues the

soul.
Swim adown the dance, and melt in the song.

* 661
Mild Peace, come from realms of everlasting \ repose!
Bid the troubled earth be happy, like thy own heaven.
Bid destructive war cease his mad ravage.
And Plenty gladden the earth with new increase.
Oh ! bid deploring nations cease to lament,
And convert guilty swords into smiling ploughshares.

662
Ah ! of what use is it, if the fire of the Muse
Must die, like the meteor's transitory flash ?
Alas ! what does it boot ? since the hero's yi^e
Is Death's obscure \ cave, and the oblivious grat^e-—
Since not Fame's loud trumpet can bestow \ durable

praise ;
And neither bays nor laurels live in the grave.

663
Retired from the noisy court and loud camp^
In mral diversion and honorable ease
He securely ] spent the remainder of his day*.

204 Versification.

And did not Jitid they flew too fast> or lagged too slowiy^
He made his desire comply with his estate^
Glad to live, yet not afraid of dying.

664
The adventurous boy, vthoadcsjbr his little por^ton.
And hies from home with the prayer of many a gossip.
Turns upon the neighbouring hill, to behold once again
The beloved \ residence of privacy and peace;
And, as he turns, the thatched roo/* among the trees.
The smoke's blue wreaths, mounting with the breeze^
All rouse reflexion's mournfully pleasing train ;
And he often looks, and sheds tears, and again looks.

665
Oh ! at the hour of moonlight, let toe roam
To some silent bower, or private grove.
When the songs of the plumy multitude cease.
And the nightingale her plaintive song commences.
Sweet bird oi evening, I delight in thy li<juid note,
That, from thy quivering x\\xo^\.,fioweth mellifluous.

Zephyr! fleeting Zephyr ! delay longer.
And do not hear away that lovely musical sound.

When the western gale breathes upon the blue waves.
My panting bosom \ defies the peaceful sea,
Glows with the scene, inhales those more soft \ dtlights
Dropped from the balmy wings of the breezes.
But, when the curled \ wave \ lifts up its form,
And silent horror broods on the tempest,

1 direct my steps to yon sheltering wood,
The retreat of love, the refuge of misfortune.

Fersificatioti. 205

667. — The Carrier Pigeon.
Guided by what chart, transports the iimid pigeon
The wreaths of victory, or the professions of love ?
Say, wbatcoaipass£rfc/5herfiight through the clouds?
Kings hH,re gazed, and nations^ have blessed the sight.
Heap up rocks on rocks: bid mountains and ^b*

rests I arise :
Hide from xntm her native skierf, her native shades :
It is to no purpose: she proceeds through aether's

wilds where there is no path,
And at last aKghts where all her cares rest.

668
Where should we discover {those consolations at an end,
Which Scripture affords) or hope to discover a friend ?
Grief might then muse bersdf info madness,
'And, seeking banishment from the sight of mankind,
Bury herself in rfeep solitude.
Grow mad with her pangs, and bite the earth.
Thxxs frequently unbelief, become weary of living.
Flies to the felon knife, or inviting pool.

669
And shall I be afraid to wander at this dark hour
Jn the solemn stillness of the wood,
Or where ri^e the battlements worn by time,
Or the haughty turret iieth low in ruin ?
I disdain the idea — fteiwg/i^swr^rd that sovereign power
Rules the noontide or the nightly hour alike:
And I roam^ as free from groundless alarm, here
In the midst of these shades, as in the blaze of sun*
shine,

206 F€r$ffication.

While to thy attention, O thou almighty protector,
I commend my spirit^ by night or day.

670
Friend of my bosom, compapion of my earfy age^
As renowned for learning* as vespected for U\l\)^^
Combined in whom we admire equally
The wisdom of the philosopher and theja^eqffkepoitf
A generous disposition and an elevated mind.
Unlimited genius^ and undamped warmth;
Equally skilful to niioie the sublime soog^
Or sport playfully among the flowery meadows ;
The smiling Muse has taught thee all her skill.
To catch the imagination, and to take possesion <^

the heart.

67 1. --Tobacco.
Noxious weed ! whose odor \ molests the ladies,
Unfriendly to society's greafes^ \ pleasures!
Thy most mischievous effect is driving away for hours
The sex whose society civilises ours.
Thou art indeed the drug^ of which a^gardener sUmii

in need.
To destroy vermin that infest bis plants. ,
But are we so blinded to beauty and genius.
As to set no value upon the glory of our species,
And show to the fairest and softest forms
As little lenity as to worms and gtuhsi

672 [«ew,

Nobody sends his arrow to the mark wkieh he ^as in
Whose aim is false, or whose hand weak.
For, although,,\ before the arrow is yet on the wiDg>

Vers^fysation. 207

Or when it first quits the elastic cord.
It deviate but little from the lice in^ended^
Jn the end it falls far wide of his intent. « [heaven,
In like manner^ \ the person who seeks an abode in
Must with a steadfast eye watch his'dfs^.
TbA prize belongs, to the sincere alone :
The smallest obliquity is here fistal.
&IS.—The Maniac.
Listen f the distracted maniac srngs, to chide the wind,
That wafts her lover's distant ship so slowly.
She, melancholy spectatress ! on the bleak shore
\Vatch*d the rude billow, that bore his body^^ | desti^

tute of a shroud.
Recognised the pale form^ and^ shriekfAg in amazC"

ment,
Locked together her cold hands, and fixed her inad«

deniug stare. [tears,

Poor widowed creature! it was there she vainly \ shed
Until memory Jied from her agmising braii^.
Bttt^ to cb&rm the sensation ol ansery, Mercy bestomd
Ideal peace, that truih could never give.
The pleasures 6f imagination beam warm on her heart ;
And hope, without an aim \ charms her darkest dream.

674.— To Hope.
Favoring power! when rankling cares disturb
The sacred home of connubial joy.
Where, condemned to puveriy's remote dell.
The wedded pair of affection and virtue live,
Meeting no pity from the worlds not knoum to fame^

208 Versification.

Their forrosss, tbeir J€^|>a^ add their boarts the sap^e--
0h ! m that spot, \ prophesying Hope, bestow tby smile^
And drive away ih^.pang^ that worth should never

experience y , .

There, as the p§jerit distributes his imvjffifi^nf, stpte.
To young children \ bereft of friends^ %Qd w^ps to

bestow no more, ...

Announce, that his manly offspring shall yet alleviate
Their father^s wrongs, and protect his advanced ^e.

675
At eve in summer, yihen the aerial bow of heaven
Spans with hiUiant arch the glittering hills beneath,
Wliy does the musing eye turn io yonder mountain.
Whose top, j bright with sun^shine, mingles with thi

sky ? ' - .

Why .do those cliffs of shadowy coloring \ seem
More sweet than the entire landsefipe \ uphich smiles

near

It is distance, lends enchantment to the prospect,
And arrays the mewntain in its blue | coloring.
In the same manner, we Unger with pleasure, to vtes'
The promis'd^e/ig^^^ of lifers unmeasured /<wui:
Thus, Jrom a distance, each gqene dimly discovered
Jppears more captivating than all the past has beeo;
And every form, ihat imagination can repair
From A'dxk for getfulness, glows there divinely.

Ten-syllable Iambics, in which some of ike Ilaiic
words are to have epithets added — some aret0i€jal'
tered-^some are both to be altered and t0 have epithets;

Venification. 209

9^ each particular case to be distinguished bj/ the pupits
^wn sagacity.

676.'-Botany Bay.
Here we are secure : on this peaceful shore^
No Kont roar, no tigers provrl :
No wolfh heard : no brake
Hide$ the venom of the coiKng serpent.
The summers smile as mildly here as in England ;
As mild winters terminate the year. [this country ;
Nor is the breath of the autumnal whirlmnd heard in
Nor spring ] storms breathe the blast of death.
Without a single j regret to call n^ tears,
Or awake one desire, 1 fed myself satisfied here.
And we shall yet enjoy happiness : yonder beam,
The mild rudiance of departing day light.
As ^ily gilds over this humble habitation,
As the mperb \ edifices on England's remofe shore.

6n,^The Slave-Trade.
The ties of friend, husband, father,
All bonds of nature, cease in that moment.
And each suffers, while he yet breathes,
A stroke not less fatal than \ Death's scythe.
The black warrior, mad with regret [remembrance,
Of the woman he loves, and never can lose from iii$
Loses in Aw tears the shore retiring to a distance,
But not the idea that they must never ^gain meet.
Robbed, at a blow, of her and liberty,
What has he remaining^ that he yet oan forego ?
Yes, sullenly resigned-to melancholif,
He feels in his mind the bondage of his body,
S3

210 ' Versification.

Divests himself of his generous disposiiioH, and, to suU

His manners with his destinjfy puis on the brujte*

678 A.
Ye spirits, who dwell iu unknown worlds^
Formidable spectres ! to what place are you down f
I have often heard, you delight, at this awftU hour^
To resort to the moss-grown tower, or aisle tying in
To flit along the glade in shadowy^gtireJ, [ruins;
Or stalk giant-like 'midai the shade.
Yet here, un-accompanied, I walk with silent steps.
Where broken walls spread their ruinsi
Where the remains of the great and fair
Rest in uwful state, vainly enshrined;
Where the 4.ark ivy embraces the embattled tower.
And lengthens out its last hour for a time:
But every thing is quiet; no ghost appears;
No phantom uprears its huge^iirg;
No spirit, robid in white, glides through the darkness;
No groan j lowly mutters from the grave.

678 B.
As when a criminal, whom the laws of his country
Have with just reason \ sentenced for some atroeious

cause,
Expects, in darkness and terrors,
The ignominious \ termination of all his years which

he has spent amiss ;
If, chance, slowly borne on heavy wings,
^ A storm \ introduce the d/eaded mornit^,
The Hghtni)ig plays upon the walls of his dungeon^
The thunder appears to call him away $ -

Fersificatiotu « 2i ^

The warder applies iis key at the door.

Shoots the bolt backward, aad all hi$ forlUvde dies.

If^ at that moment, just at ihat moment, all thought

of mercy being lost,
When hope, long lingering, at last gives up the ^hos.t,
The sound of pardon penetrate his startled ear.
He drops at the same moment bis chains aad his terror ;
In every thing ^Aa^ .be speaks aadiooksy a transport

glows ;
And the first tears of gratitude | wet his cheeks.

679. — Cosciusko.
Warsaw's last champion viewed, from her summit,
A waste of destruction laid widefy ower the field*
He exclaimed, ''Oh! Heaven! preserve my bleeding

country! [valiant 'J

Is there no hand in the regions above, to protect the
Nevertheless, though ruin sweep these lovely plains.
Arise, fellow men! our country remains yet.
By that awful name we bpundish the sword on high;
And swear to live for h^r, to pmsA with her."
Thus he spoke, and, on the heights of the ramparts,

arrayed
His warriors, few, but undaunted.
Firm in their pace, and slow, they form a horrid fronts
jis still as the breeze, but €25 terrible as ihe tempest*
Sounds lowly murmuring fly along. their banners :
The watcli-word and reply, " Revenge or death !^.....

To no purpose, alas ! to no purpose, ye brave few,
Your voiieyed thunders flew from rank to rank......

For a time, Hope bade farewell to the world-;
And Liberty \ uttered a shriek as Cosciusko fcH.

«ie V^mfication.

ddO.-^Bcaut/s Eclipse.
The storm of a winter's night howled loudfy,
And lamps | gave a dim light.
No ^tor ■ illuminattd the vault of heaven ^
But cfcucts were wildly driven over its face*
In each street, \ silence \ prevailed*, ^

Except where thq blast, or s/^er, ^

Wai heard to whistle, or to beat rudely* ^
It was then, that, leaning on a step,
Resigned to all the power of wretchedness.
With famine in her eye, and with grief on her cheeky
A child of misfortune was observed to lie.
The witid blew rovghly \ round her ^hUtiing frame :
Her sighs were lost in the storm.
Exposed was her bosom, once so beautiful^
I^ow the abode of despair.
Her hair lay loose down her back—
Those locks, once dressed in showy colors.
Her temples were damp with the dews of death.
And her struggling and thick respiratiofi slowly drawn.
Life's taper hastened to an end :
She invokes Death— an acceptable friend to her.
I observed the termination of her tempestuous day :
I saw hec lingering graces gradually vanish —
Heard the last sounds tremble on her lips.
While nature heaved a sigh at the eclipse of Becfuty,

— ' r- — , . m II •

* Here is a triplet-^ three verses rbiming together.

f.srsificatim. 213

Iambics of eight and six ^llableSf with alternate
rhime; the Italic words subject to alteration ofid addi^
tion, as in the preceding examples,

681
Do not inquire of me the essential form

That highly-prized beauty weareth.
Ab! who is able to paint ihe mogtW charm^

That eusnares each } bosomf
Search for the reply in your breast ;

For the secret is discovered there.
It is your own taste that paints tite arrow,

And causes our beiiuty to wound*

Iambics of eight syllables, mth alternate rhimc; the
ItaMs^, as above*
682 '
I am pleased with the tear, the pearl of iorrosr^^
• .That adorns thfe eye affected by ^mp$thy —
To behold ihe stream oi grief \Jlowing,
To hear deeply-heavipg fiighs,
683
Yes^ let th^ miser reckon Im money,

And /a£or apd sot'ape to in^vtea^e tlie h€;ap:
Say, can the heart, that .is eold and hard,
Enjoy the fruitful pleasures of Wd^<?
684
I delight to hear the woodlark singing,

As, risiag from bee neU,
She makes the valleys and woods resound^
And pleasingly sooths my soul to peace.

214 Versification.

685
Tortured by the hand of disease, ^

See, our favorite bard lies ;
While every object, calculated to give pleasure,

Ungratefully flies to a distance from his couch.

lan^hics of ten syllables, with alternate rhime; the
Italics, as above,
686
No wisdom of man can foresee the injury:

No prudence of man can turn aside its force.
Like the r^hirlwind, \ behold! it rushes along ^
And nothing but heaven can check its career.
687
Come, Sleep! and assuage this sickness of soul : ,

Come, Sleep ! and clasp me to thy bosom,
(^spring of oblivioii ! roll over my imagination,
And grantTle repose in some long, long slumber.
688
Not affected by care, the whistling hind goes
To yon bank, where high the poplar moves
Its limbs : as he makes ready his repast,
His dog craves the morsel which he expects.
689
Ah ! of what advantage is it, that the face of day

Wears the verdure of returning spring?
Alas ! ii does not shed awf genial beam on me:
Its approaches do not bring any noft feelifip.
690
Though pearls enrich the depths of the sea.
No eye sees the beauty of their ray.

Vemjication 215

Thej sleep in deep caves under the waters,
And from the gaze of day conceal their brilliancy.
69\.—To a JRed-breast.

Wanderer! to this shed thou art welcome:
For thou hast endured the cold pitiless iempcit,

Feh the blast on thy undefended head>

And heard destruction threaten thy geni\e frame.

Perking in my face, and perching upon my book.

The Robin, void of guile \ appears to watch my
jih! be is not acquainted with man's race, [thoughtSj

By whose allurement birds are taken.
Even man to man is but rarely true:

The love, te^A/cA he professes, is ar^.
Though heaven's image appear on his forehead, .

Yet Robin boasts a heart of greater purity.
693
Oh ! she was as beautiful as lilies of the valley:

Her voice was divine: on her cheek.
Pale with pain and long sickness,

Sat patience ever mild, and calm-eyed faith.
Family \ affection would watch the whole day,

Smoothing her pillow ; | in the mean time, she
passed the hours in thankful silence.

Reviving hope with many a smile.

694. — To the Violet. [are past,

Now winter's gloomy and uncomfortable \ mornings

And the sun's renovating warm beams prevaiL
Now wimdering over the waste of the common,

To breathe the scents \ conveyed on the Tsnnd

£16 Versification.

From the pale primrose or gold-colored furtse-broom,

I discover thy blue gems> spread so lowly
Beneath some soHtaty thorn adown the valley,

Hardly rei^ring thy head from the ground.
695
Delightful Hop^^ that with fond delusive dreams still

Cheerest the melancholy heart, surcharged with
sorrow and care,
My ffitW longs for those healing streams [rison.

Which flow from thee, aitd delight beyond compa-
CMi ! vouchsafe \ therefore to visit my solitary cell,

And breathe thy influence on my fatigued soul:
Pleasing flatterer, come, and, txnth a smile, \ declare

That my hours shall yet pass m felicity;
That the tide of Fortune shall flow again.

That foes shall relent, and friends smile;
That I shall increase in wisdom, as in years.

And find all my moments crowned with sweet con-

696 [tentment^

Where woods extend their shade, [night,

And give additional horrors to the obscurity of
If, chance, the swain bend his steps,

Infear pausing for Borne light; [the glade,

How joyously \ does his hearty beat, when, through

He perceives the moovis ray \ penetrating the clowdsl
With vigorous and light step he springs ouward.

And salutes the empress of tlie fainter day.
Thus, while I ramble through life's pa^As,

Should despondence spread the gathering darkness,
May Hope's lustre, streaming from on High,

Dispel the bodings of a sad \ destiny.

Versification, ^17

697
SolUarjf^ ixixd/tUt of thought, near spme unfrequented

shore,
, ^t a distance from the raorts of men, I love to

wander,
And mth caution \ explore my path at a distance,

Where the step of man never marked the way.
1 endeavour to fly far from the gaze of the public,

And communicate my sorrows to the winds aIon«,
While, in my eye and cheek.

The fire, that consumes my inmost heart, appears^
But, alas! I fruitlessly go to scenes /ar removed:

No solitude allays my thoughts*
Methinks, even Ufeless things must know

The flame that secretly preys on my soul.
698
Farewell, autumn ! I feel the breath

And influence of winter's reign.
How extensively the empire of death spreads round,

Usurping pleasure's \ domain.
The sun now ascends slowly over eastern hills,

While fogs besiege the vale;
His oblique beams now shine faintly at mid-day,'

And the valley is only half illuminated.
Clouds sail through the shy in rapid sudtcession,

And obscure all the solemn view round :
The wood murmurs to the gale :

The storm \ rapidly rushes along the ground.

* Compare this piece %vith No. 822.
T

218 Fer^^/ice^ien.

G99.— To a Candle.
JHaili lumntms companion of my solitary honn.

My midnight sun with light faintly glimmering!
Thy master now pours a sonnet to the^:

Accept the poetfy : it is all the poet can pay.
Whe» darkness veils the earth,

And Night with blaek sceptre exercises her dominion
over the plain,
When I fear gives spectres birth,

And imaged horrors fill the. brain of the vulgar;
Then I zvithdraw to my chamier,

Wliere books and solitude invite ;
Trim my fire with secret satisfaction^

And light my taper from its flame.
yioxe pleasing to me thy little quivering rays.

Which hardly \ enlighten my study round,
Than the glare, where thousand torches burn,

And Folly and Mirth pour their united sound.
700
Inconstantly seen through dust driven in whirlwinds.

The swords thickly flash : the frequent y\ci\m, die^;
While, over his mutilated trunk, and ghastly visage,

Armies rush trampling, where yiiry calte.
Tell me, soldier, grira spectacle of pain, tell me.

What Siren decoyed thee from thy home.
To abandon thy poor, thy small domestic train.

To wander over billowy deeps for labors of arms?
No beams of glory cheer thy unfortunate \ destiny;

Thy name does not descend tQ future ages —
Forced io fight for thou knowest not what.

And impelled to l^ft^ety by (Ae^ rage of another
penon.
Thy wi^Wf thy children w^ep.

And beg tb^r suisifttme'ftomdapt to door^
While thy limbs, mangled with WQ^unds^ jleep «piVA-
out honqr.
And waste and tot on ^Ae ^Aare ojTa $trangecQuntrj/.

Tbefint line to rhim^ wpth ihefourthr- the ^ with theSd.

701
At a diitn^a^ from the disturbance of ihe bjasy multu
tude,

1 court thegroz;e'5 \ shdde;

And, as I behalf the tints of the sun \ fading,
I perceive the hours dragging along heavily*
I ramble onward, and, rapt* in pensive glooni)

Jlleditate on. the various -^mZs of wayward life,

On faisebood's wiles, ambition's con/^n^tm,
iAnd virtue rapidly going to an early grave.

702
Ah ! dear pleasures of youth, for ewer gone!

J^h ! were I once again a child here,

Again this strand, tbe;»e wood-waUss,
And dells, I would tread witb careless step.
The manderings of more mature years

Would then present no unpleasant retrospect;

Nor regret for time imprudenilt/ \ wasted
Would fill my foreboding \ bosom Yfiuijears^

/ '■ . I I ^ III ! .. I . » I,.,,

, ♦ Sec, the n/ste 4m Jlapt, Jfa. ^l,p^ge 199.

2£0 Versification.

70S.— To a Rei-brgasi

In autumn's decline, thy lay which sweetly sooths,
Thy' querulous warblings^ lulled my cares to peace:
When winter came, arrayed in horrors,

I beheld thee silent on the spray.

The trees again dressed in gay leaves.
While reflected rays streak the west,
Thy cadence again sooths my uneasy \ bosom,

And trills the requiem of day-light departing.

The first and third lines to rhime — second and fourth^
fifth and eighth t— sixth and seventh.
704
The transitory \ little fiower is no sooner born*.

Than, quickly ripening, if hastily proceeds xo decay :
Nursed by the beams of mornings
Its little year is terminated at evening.

* JBorn.— 'Although many persons confine this word to the
birth of living creatures, and some even exclusively r^rict it
to the human species, there is no impropriety — none in poetrf
at least"--- in applying it to irrational creatures, or to inanimate
productions. As a cow hears a calf, and the* eartjh lean
flowers, the calf is horn of the cow, and the flowery j&urn of the
earth; which, in reality, means nothing else than ^orn« (y tke
cow or the earth; horn and home having been originally the
same identical participle from Bear^ though they now happen to
be differently pronounced. But that difference of sound is purely
accidental, and such as we may every day observe in Tern,
Shorn, and Forlorn; some speakers making them to rhime with
Horn, others with Sworn; which latter prounciation, by the way,
is more agreeable to etymology ; those words behig formed by
syncope from the antique Toren, Shor^in, Fortdr4n, as Born aud
Sworn from Boren and Swor^n ; whereas the other sound (rhim-

And thus manU life: — the child

Speedily enters into youth's ^nng;

Then remains a. while, 'till Time, with quick wing,
Dmet him on to Age's dreary wHderaess.

'9he first and fourth lines to rhime — second and third
— fifth and dghth — sixth and seventh — ninth and
eleventh — tenth and twelfth,

705
Man of the grey \ hair^ thou must wander

Through [the*] ^yaste destitute of water , and over

[the*] hill destitute of herbs,
Where no blossom bloom s^ and where no rivulet
rolls,
To cheer thyjoiirwey to Death, thy jottrw^ [ void of joy.
But youth, whose soul is hope, anticipates no evil:
Trees areh h'l^path ; and cheerful landscapes
Smile all round him, while the sun
Shines on shades resounding with the song of birds,

and quiet valleys.
He looks right before him with that eye void of fear.

Which does not discover a sorrow in futurity:

But age, that heaves many sighs over past pleasures.

Shall soon humble his fond aspiring thoughts,

ing with Horn) was originally only a provincialism, such as, to
ibis day, we may peneive in nany of thf. natives of certain di- •
stant counties, who often pronounce tlie long O like A W, tbut
converting Joe into Jaw, Know intu Gjiaw, Whole into Wail,
sounded exactly like the wall of a iiouse.

* " TAe" is to be omitted, in both cases.
tS

282 Versification.

Trodhdic Verses to be scanned -^ some' of tJiempure
TrochaicSy as

'Quips and | cranks and } wanton | wilc8, *
Nods and f 'becks and | wreathed [ smiles —
others hating an admixture of differ erU feet, or a sit/per-
numerary un-nccented syllable at the end.

706
Laura's ey^s, in soft dismay.
Chiding frowns would fain betray.

707
Hail to Pleasure's frolic train !
Hail to Fancy's golden reign !
Festive Mirth, and Laughter wild,
Fxee and .sportive ^s the child !

708 .—To the Sky-lark.
Sweetest warbler of the skies.
Soon as morning's purple dies
O'er the eastern mountains float.
Wake me with thy merry note.

709. — Written in a Garden.
Here, amidst this blest retreat,
May each fairy fix her seat :
May they weave their garlands here,
Ever blooming, ever fair....
May the songsters of the vale
Warble here the tender talfe.
Pour the thrilling cadence sweet,
Each blest habitant to greet.
May Pomona, ever gay,
Here her smiling gifts display,

Versification^ Q23

And with autumn's mellow hoard
Heap the hospitable board. .

710
Where the rising fx)rest spreads ^

Shelter for the lordly dome^
To their high-built airy beds

See the rooks returnin'g home.
711
Haste, ye sister pow'rs of song !

Hasten from the shady grove,
Where ^he river rolls along

Sweetly to the voice of love ;
Where, indulging mirthful pleasures,

Ligljt you press the flow'ry green.
And, from Flora's blooming treasures, t

Cull the vrreath for fancy's queen.

Trochaics to be made.

Each line to be one verse ; each couplet to rhime ;

the Italic z&ords requiring alteration or addition, as in

page 196.

712

Now battle glows with fury :

In torrents flows hostile blood.

713 • ,

Earth resumes all her verdure :
A\l its«plendor illumes hcav'n.

714
The voice, the dance, obey thee,
To thy warbled lay tempered.

715
tfkerever she directs her welcome step,

e£4 Vmj^Hm.

Poverty I ceases to^eve:
Where her smiles enliven the pro^pect^
Anguish dries tEe tear.

716
Here you will meet witli I intellectual pleasures-
Pleasures that ornament the mind.
The pleasures of sense«are tramitory :
They give no solid happiness,

717
Be no longer alarmed, little trembler :
Thou hasiplentifiU crops ^gred i<p —
Seed, sown by genial sorrows.
More than all thy scorners possess,

718
Rise, I amiable \ reppntant ;
Come, and lay claim to thy kindred heaven.
Come I thy sister angels declare
Thpu hast wept out thy stains.

719
Charming songster, begin the song,
Ever new and gay.
Bring the wine which inspires joy,
Ever fresh and fine.
Gentle boy, whose/ee^
Move li^^hiiy to melodious cadence,
Quickly (ill us the wine.
Ever fresh and fine.

720
Now let cxpt ience determine

Between the good and evil ofti;hich you have made tfiaL
In the level ground where enchantment reigns^

Ver9yication. 225

'Declare, unfold the treasures that you discovered,,..
Seas that lie smoothly dimpling,
While the tempest \ threatens \ abate.
Exhibiting, in an obyious glass^
Pleasures that vanish in possession ;
Gay, light, fickle, and transitory,
Flattering, only /or the purpose of betraying.

721
With prophetic zJoic€, sisters.
Let us pour now the dirge of death.

Will tlie stork, when she intends rest,
Build her nest on the wave ?

723
listen! among yorider | old trees.
The breeze sighs, wandering.

724
Over the head of a parent, bast thou
Shed drops of filial affection f

Heaven shall conduct thy unbefriended steps,
Enliven thy hours, and protect thy side,

Trochdics with alternate rhime, requiring alteration or
addition, as the preceding.

726
The roar of the battle brayed faintly,

At a distance, down the hollow wind.
Terror fled before :

In the rear were left wounds and Death.
727
'' We will still keep our arras -^

££6 Ferfjficatif^.

Thus anmered the nobk king :
*^ Helmet and inail shall remain.

And the sword tirtged in blo<)d'^
- 728
The shepherd dines beside the rkulet.

From the fierce heat of noon
f^rotecied by the p/we^,

WTAicA Aa/ig over his seat,
729
But from rarer, dell, or mountain.

Not a Zephyr \ rises,
Afraid, lest the beai?i (ifnoqn

Should scorch his silken, his jdelicate wiflgs.
730
With the rose, the plant of love,

Let us tinge our wine;
With the most beautiful flower that bloweth,

Let us entwine crowns.
731
The sword, in the king's hand.

Cleft brawi \ helmets, like wat^r,
While, over \ valiant Hacon's head.

Sword and lance pass, without hurting him.

The first and thirfl lines h^em^er^mth double rhimt;
the other two of the reg^dar measure.

732
Behold! the spirited baad comesforward,

Sabres brandished aloft.
Hope dances in each breast ;

In euch eye, courage speaks.

Venifitation. - 9/il

733
Amiabhj gar, whimsical cvetXnre^

Source of every pain and pleasure,
Beautiful, imperkci production of nature.

Vain, tender, and too apt to believe.
734^.'-' To the Rose.
Thou delicious, sweet flower, hail !

Once more stimmer bids thee welcome
To my agreeable and neat bower—

Thee, the most sweet of her train.
735
While every | ancient poetic mountaia

Breathed inspiration round abou^t,
Every shade and hallowed spring

Deeply murmured a solemn sound*
736
With declining motion, in the west.

The sun, the monarch of day, goes down,
From the eastern sea early

'To emerge with golden beam.

The first and third lines regular — the second and
fourth, hypermeier, double-rhimed,

737
Shall the budded rose blow,

Wasting itt beauties on the air,
"Not cropped by any desiring hand.

None enjoying its early sweets f

228 Versification,

All of the regular measure; each couplet rhimifig.

* 738
Begone hence, mistaken* woman !
Do not attend to what the Sirens say.
Pleasure, as rapidly fleeing as ihe wind, /
Leaves after it pain and repentance.

739.— To the Cricket.
Diminutive inmate, full of merriness,
Chirping on the hearth of my kitchen,
Wheresoever be thy residence,
Always the forerunner of good !
For thy warm shelter, \ reward me
With a softer and sweeter song.
Thou shalt have, in return,
Such a strain as I am able to give,*..
Neither night nor morning
Puts an end to thy sport.
Sing, therefore, and leifgthm out thy span
Far beyond the date of mankind.
Miserable man, whose days sue passed
In discontentment.
Does not live, \ although he be old,
Haifa span, m comparison with thee.

* Sec ihe Dote on Mistaken and Mistuking, page 68.

Versificatiofu 229

7'he s€C07id. and fourth lives rhiming; the first and
third, without rhime.

740 '
First trace her glossy locks:

Paint them soft, and as black as jet :
And, if thy imitative power be such,

Paint them breathing ev'ry sweetness.
Prom the cheek, luxuriant, full.

Partially appearing through her dark-colored hair.
Let ih^ forehead rise.

Fair, smooth, and glittering bright.

The first and third lines hypermeter,^ without rhime; the
second andfouM, regular, and rhiming,

lA^\. — To Slee^.
My eyes have a long fiywc sought thee to no purpose.

Come, and bring-the reXxei which I wish for.
Come, and assuage my tormented \ breast.

Sick with care and so7tow | at the same time.
Stealing over my eye-lids^

Steep my sense in rest,
Shedding from thy wings

Kind forgetful ness over ray sorrows.
Under thy friendly shade, Hope

Shall spread her fairy colors.
And with acceptable, \ cheerful illusions.

Dance round my head again.

230 Versification.

Regular^ with alternaU rhime.

742
Behold! what storms \ are gatliering rounds

Gloomy, and pregnant with England's destiny I
England ! rouse thyself tx the sound !

Behold! the Frenchman is at thy door!
Before the arrow of war be sped,

Meet \iy and anticipate the stroke,
European powers ! lend your assistance,

To exterminate the common enemy.

jinapastic Verses to be scanned, — See ^' Anapastic"
in the Prosody, page 32.

743 ,
The spirit of chivahy reign'd o*er the laws.
When the glances of beauty decided, the caiuse.

744
No arbour, no shade, and no verdure is seen ;
For the trees and the turf are all colors but green.

745
My tenaples with clusters of grapes Pll entwinq;
And ril barter all joys for a goblet of wine.
In search of a Venus, no longer 1*11 run ;
But ril stop, and forget her, at Bacchus'es tun.

746 (See Nos. 755, and 756.)
All bold and erect ev'ry ruffian we meet ; [street.
And the coachmenj in tremors, scarce trot through the

Versification. ' £31

With a flourishing whip they once gallop'd along,
And crush'd out the souls of the beggarly throng.
To fracture a leg was but reckon'd-a joke^
While the chariot was whirling through foam and
through smoke.
■ - . 747
Let them talk of the beauties, the graces, that dwell

In her shape, in her face, in her air.
I, too, of those beauties, those graces, could tell :

But, ah ! what avails that she's fair?
I could jsay, that, in nature, each emblem is faint^

To express all the charms of her face.
Her form—oh ! 'tis all that young Fancy can paint ;

And her air, the perfection of grace.
Bnt the frost of imkindness those blossoms can blight-^

Each charm, each perfection, can stain —
Make the sweet-smiling Loves and the Graces
take flight, .

And ease the fond fool of his pain.
Come, Mirth, and thy train! Oflh yjoys let me share—

Those joys that enliven the soul.
With these, Til forget that my Phylhs is fair. —

Love and care shall be drown'd in the bowl.
748
Ye pow'rs, who make Beauty and Virtue your care;

Let no sorrow my Phyllis molest !
Let no blast of misfortune intrude on t^e fair.

To ruflSie the calm of her breast !
749
I have march'd, trumpets sounding, drum$ beating,
flags flying.

232 Ftrs^caiion.

\Where the music of vTar drown'd the shrieks of the
dy^ng.
^ 1 50."^ Warranted Kasors.

" You "wtirrant those lasors which now I have

bought?''—
" Yes, truly, L warrant them not worth a groat."

751. — Robinson Crusoe*.
I am monarch of all I survey :

My right there is none to dispute.
From the centre all round to the sea,
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.

solitude ! what are the charms /
That sages have seen in thy face ?

Better dwell in the midst of alarms.
Than reign in this horrible place.

1 am out of humanity's reach ;

X must finish my journey alone.
Never hear the sweet music of speech —

♦ It may be proper to inform som» of- my young renders that
tlie fictitious tale of B^binson Crusoe was built on the real
story of Alexander Selkirk, a Scotchman, who had lived sereral
years in total solitude on the island of Juan Fernandez. Upon
bis return to England, he intrusted his papers to Daniel fiSs Foe,
to prepare them for the press, with the reasonable hope of de-
riving benefit from the publication of his extraordinary adven-
tures. But De ice, shamefully betraying his trust, stole from
those papers the ground-work of his tale, which be published,
for his own benefit, as an original piece*— leaving poor Selkirk to
lament the confidence which he had unluckily placed in a man
who could thus basely and cruelly rob him of all the advantages
which he was entitled to reap from his past sufferingst .

Vers^aiion. 233

I start at the sound of my own

Society, friendship, and love.

Divinely bestow'd upon men !
Oh ! had I the wings of a dove.

How soon would I taste you agaia !.«♦..
Ye winds, that have made me your sport.

Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.

jinapasiics to be versified.

jinapastics of four feet. — Each line to make a
verse, and each couplet to rhime, — N. B^ It is of no
consequence whether the first foot of each verse consist
of two syllables or of three, provided that the last syU
table of that foot be accented. — See page 32.

752
. Adieu to the woodlands, where, gay and sportive,
The cattle play so froRbsomey light bounding,

753
Adieu to the woodlands, where I have rov'd oft.
And, wuth the friend that I lov'd, conversed sweetly*

754
Content and joy are now fled from our dwellings;
^nd, instead, disease and want are our mmates.

755. — The French Revolution.
Now chivalry is dead, and (Jaliia rum'd ;
And the glory of Europe is fled for ever.
u3

SiS4 Versification.

756
No distioctioDs remain : lost is all order :
Grosses, ribbons, and titles, obtain no revVence.

757
All ranks, all ages, all nations, shall combine
In this divine aad just war of benevolence.

758
Though, from danghills, meteors arise with lustre.
Is the filth, left behind, like the flame in the skies ?

' 759 .

A singular custom prevails at Pavia,
To protiect, from jails and bailiifs, the poor debtor.

760 [pale;

In my eye there's no grief, though my cheek may be
And 'tis seldom I give a sigh to sad mem'ry.

761
You'll Boort fly afar from country and from friends^
To havoc and to camps, to war and to rage.

76!£
His case I remember'd, though scant was my wallet.
Nor, to his pitiful face, refus'd my last crust.

76S
Blind, forsaken, and poor, where shall I now go?
Can I find one so kind and faithful, to guide me ?

764 [burden ;

Her limbs could then no more support their faint
And 8h6 sank on tl^e floor breathless and exhausted*

765
The hotter the fight, we still grow the fiercer.
So we conquer the foe, the loss we heed not.

Venificaiion. * £35

766
Queen of the fairies, so, gay and^rosy ! come !
As the daughter of May, with flow'rs we must crown
you.

767. — The impressed Sailor.
Because I've ventur'd my life for ray country.
From my wife and my home Fm dragg'd, like a thief.

768. — The Soldier.
Af^er majTching all day, sore and hungry and faint,*
Oil the swamps of the moor, at night I have kin down,
Unsheltered, and by fatigue forc*d to remain,
By the wind all chiU'd, and by the rain benumb'd.

769. — Oh a Vintner.
While Balderdash vends the vilest of compounds.
And, for all his good friends, brews his dear poison,
No wonder they can never get him to dine :—
He's afraid they'll oblige him to drink his own wine.

• 770

From my brother the post has just brought a letter ;
And, to write him another, I am seated here.
Wo'n't it be very clevei;, if I can do'tin rhime ?
And I could for ever scribble, I'm so fond of rhime.

771
She pass'd still fearless o'er weed*cover'd fragments,
^nd at last arriv'd at the innermost ruin,....
When, on her ear, the sound of a voice seem'd to
All eager to bear, she listen'd, and she paua'd. [rise.

Prostrate is laid the elm, beneath whose broad shade
1 have play'd and gambol'd in childhood's blithe day.
The gay thrushes shall no more sing on its boughs.

236 Vtmfkatwn.

Nor goldBnches hall the commencement of spring.
The musical choir, deprivM of their shelter,
Retire to the shade of the ihirkets, with regret. -

773. — Woman.
Tis woman, whose charms impart ev'ry rapture.
And to the pulse of the heart add a soft spring.
Her sway is so supreme— the miser himself
Resigns her his key, aud to love grows a convert.
Sorrow lifts up his head, at the sound of her voice.
And, from his shed, Poverty, well pleas'd, listens. '
Even Age, hobbling along, in an ecstasy,
Beats time to the tune of her song, with his crutch.

774
We cheerfully hope to find in our cottage
The solace of mind, and the transport of life.
Nature may shine there with unborrowed beauty.
And read some divine lecture through all seasons ;
Excite the ambition pur^'d by wisdom.
And point to the giver of good, from his gifts.
Friends, ever welcome, shall pay glad visits there.
And books shall display the science of ages.
.. 775. — To a Daughter, zdth a Cltaplet of Flowers,
A more beauteous garland may adorn thy breast^
Than courts the soft dew-drops of May's lucid morn,
If, kind and obliging, good-humour'd and mild.
The fruits of the heart aid the blossoms of mind.
If love and duty join with ease and spirit,
The dear chaplet they form, that will ever please.
In thy bosom, my sweet little Jane, wear these ;
And unfaded will remain the flowVs that we prize.

Versification, £37

776
Oh ! burn the tall heath which waves in the gale now :
Let nought prevail but the war-songs of Erin*.
The prows of the strangers swell the green wave now :
Unsheath then the sword of the brave, ye heroes.
Far from the shore, far, chase the deer of black Mot-
Till the banquet of Odin and of Death is oer. [vern,
Of our fathers of old sing the deeds, ye bards.
And rouse the bold and the brave to new glory....
From the heath-cover'd dell shall start the heroes.
Determined to fall as fell their forefathers.
Ye bold hunters of Colna's dark plain ! bend the bow:
Hejoice again m the strength of your arrows*
Now the spears of the strangers darken the sky :
Dread Odin is mgh, and the eagle has shriek'd thrice.

Jlnapastics of four feet and three alternately — with
alternate rhime.

777
The beauties, so rare, that acjorn my Phyllis,

To those of her mind are inferior.
The forlorn orphan, and aged, she succours,

And is kind to all the afflicted.
778
A slave to passion, of Fancy a vot'ry.

With a heart that of guile 's unconscious.
Of each plodding mean knave e'er shall I be the dupe.

And of each villain's dark wile the prey.

• Erin, the Gaelic name of Ireland.

238 Versification.

779
A maiden cried, Ah me ! ah ! where can I fly,

For aid, from so wild a tempest ?
Can you now, my rigid stern sire, mock the sigh

Of your wandering, houseless, poor child ?
780
Ev'ry care and sorrow I sooth tenderly :

I toil; unwearied, to ease thee.
I ensnare, by my wiles, the fish of the stream.

Despoil of their flowers the meads

781
When our forefathers stray 'd wide o'er the woodlands.

As rude as the rocks of our isle,
Along the deep glade wanton^ fair Liberty,

And with a smile deck'd evVy face,
782
The wide world is a desolate waste to me.

Where to roam Fortune has doom'd me,
Expos'd to the blast, a care-haunted pilgrim,

And denied a home or companion.
783
^ Fond visions of joy ! vain illusions ! hence! hence !

In my breast no more shall you reign.
The frown of my Phyllis can annoy no more:

Her smile can make me blest no more"

Resolv'd to shake ofi^ the soft chain, young Strephon,

Among the gay shepherds, sang thus.
But his triumph is short : for, o'er the plain, see !

Lightly trips along his Phyllis.

Versification, 259

Anapmtks offourfecty with alternate rhime.

784

From the blush of young Morn the trees borrow tints.

As to the gale they expand their beautiful bloom.
Where they adora the cottage, and shadow the path.

Of Emma, the pride of the vale, sweet E:nma,

785

Stern winter has stripped the trees of their honors.

And sirew*d blighted beauties around in ruin:
Nowby the breeze the pride of the woodlands is toss'd,

And the still streamlet is bound in strong icy chains.
786
I have, as I pass'd, seen how the rose, gay blushing,

Display'd her bosom to the gale of the morning :
I return'd : but away had her beauties faded ;

And, ere the ev'ning, was the pride of the morn dead.
787
The look was gone, that spoke gladness and welcome :

The blaze was no more, that in the hall shone bright.
A stranger, with a bosom of stone, was there j

And, as I euter'd his door, his look was cold.
788
^ strange contest arose between nose and eyes :

Unhappily the spectacles set them wrong.
As evVy one knows, the point in dispute was.

To which ought to belong the said spectacles

So his lordship decreed, with a solemn, grave tone,

Clear and decisive, without one but or if,
That, whenever the nose put on his spectacles.

By candle-light or day-light, eyes should be shut.

240 Versification.

The first and third lines witTi double rhime^
789
How sweet is the thougbt of to-m6rrow to the heart.
When Hope's fairy pictures display bright colors!
How sweet, when we can borrow from futurity
A balm for the griefs that lo-day afBict us !

790
The last torrent was streaming from his bosom that
heav'd ;
And his visage, deep mark'd with a scar, was pale:
And dim was that eye, once beaming expressively.
That kindled in war, and that melted in love.

J[7iapa^iics qf three feet : — rhime alternate.

791
I was cast upon the wide world,

A little boy, fatherless, poor :
But, at last, Fortune, kind Fortune,

Has turn'd to joy all my sorrow.

Anapastics of four feet : — each couplet to rhime.

79^.— Diana,
While she follows th^chase> Taygetus* sounds
With the cry of the hounds, and the notes of the horn.

* Taygetus. — In ancient .Greek names, the F nwer uoites
with a preceding vowel to form a diphthong, but always makes
a separate syllable, as in Cc-yXy C'd-yster, &c, though (stran|:e
as itmay appear to the Enghsh reader) THYIh but one syllable
in Ilithyia and OnVAym, which, in Greek and taiin poetry, con-
tain only four syllables each, as I have shown in my ** Latin

Versification. 2A\

793
Let order preside throughout your whole Irousebolcj ;
For order is ever allied with prudence,

794
For departed moments, ah ! ne'er to return —
For scenes of past bliss/ we mourn^ un-availing;
When, blooming with health, our little ones and our-
selves
Tq indolent Wealth were objects of envy ;

Prosodjf ;^* the YI being, in the original, a diphthong (l/i),
sounded^ ptobably, by the ancieo^t Greeks, as it is by the modera
French in Xui, Nuit, Puis, though difficult of pronunciation to
au English tongue, as observed in my note on the word P«m-
sanccy* under the head of " Diaresis,*' in page 10.— With respect
to TiiygetuSf ag^reeobly to the praptice of Virgil, Homer, and other
ancient writers, it contains four syllables — the third^ short ; and
the accent falls on the second — Ta-y-g^tus, In my edition of
Pry den's Vtrgiil (Geo. 3, 74), I chose rather to presume that
our English bard had intended a syneope, however harsh, in the
third fiyllabie, than that he could have been so grossly ignorant
of the classical quantity and pronunciation, as to make Tay a
single syllaUe, and to lengthen the ge. Accordingly, I thus
printed the line— » *

Thy hounds, TUyg'tus, open, and pursue their prey.

Such of my readers, however, as prefer dactyls and anapssts to
tlio use of the syncope, may avoid the harsh elison, by making
the third foot an anapaest, thus—

Thy hounds, i Tdy- \ -getus, o- \ -pen, and pursue their prey —
though neither that nor any other management in the reading
can ever render it a pleasing line, destitute, as it is, of tht'middle
anuray which is indispensable in the Alexandrine metre.

242 Versification.

Wfaeo, at the dose of each daj^ inQocent spcnrts
Could banish away our sorrows and our cares.
Ah ! when will sweet pastime the plain revisit^
And content and joy smile again around usf

Alternate rhime.

795 [oaan.

When, ia the vale, liad ceasVi the stroke of the wood-
And night's lonely warbler"* her sweet song com-
menc'd.
Her tale a heart-broken maiden repeated^

And to the stream, as along it murmur'd^ sigh'd.

Blank Vene.

Ten-syllable Iambics, in which some of the Italic
words are to have epithets added — some are to be al-
tered as directed in page 1 96 — and some are both to be
altered and to have epithets*

796
Ob 1 if I had but the envied power of choosing
My residence, no sound of city bell should come to
My ear — not even the caanon^s roar.

797
Agreeable to see the laborer hastai homeward^
Light-hearted, as he supposes his steps [fofniljf.

Will soon be welcomed by the smile of his young

798
Ah! who can describe the mother's joy,
When first her infant leaps, quivering,

With extended arms^ to meet her embrace f

" I J 1 ■' - ■ I II 1 I ■ 11 •

♦ The nightingale.

Versification. 243

79y
Now^the sbn, from the burning heaven^ {ne$$

Has driven away each cloud : with universal hright-
Blazing^ the ebrlh repels the eye.

800
Amid the nocturnal prowlers of thy wild commons,
Britannia, man walks safe ; in all their tribes^ [aim
None calculated to bid h\m shake with fear, none to
Claw or fang against their master.

801
Thus, when his arn^ over the Alps, to no purpose

opposed,
Hannibal led, the last ascent, [now trod.

Laboriously proceeding over ice-built rocks^ as they
Gasping for bireatb, the myriads | flatted.

802
Far from \ie\i\g- ihe same, wis(Jom aiid (nowledse
Frequently have nb cons^exion. knowledge Vendes
In heads stored with other mens thoughts,
Wisdom in minds that attend to iherr owti,

803
Ohe spring ev^ing, as, rapt in solitary thought,
'iBe tntced his confines, fiom the bordering common
An old man came forth : his steps
A young womUn watch'd, with looks of filial affection.

804
Hypocrisy, hate her as we may.
May still lay claim to this merit, that ^\\q acknowledges
The value of what she imitates with such care.
And thus gives virtue praise \ indirectly i

£44 Ven^icatitm.

805
Btt^, my friend^ btfore we separate, kt us ascend
You niount0in, and trace back ourjmiTn^j,
Easy the ascent^ and many an agreeable herb
Has Nature lavishfy ] strewed round.

806 1 £fcet
There are^ whom more humble walks please: theiir
Can visit the close cottage, ] in which Poverty
Patiently sits^ and t» afAicA Industry^ retired

From daily labor, \ breathes the poisoned air;

807 [sGundfyy
Charming \ baby! oh! mayest thou ever sleep as
Smile as softly, while over thy little bed

Thy mother sits, with enraptured gaze
Catching ewAk feature's sweet expression.

808
How rapd the falcon's mng in purmvngl
Less rapid the linnet's flight. Alas! unfortundU bird !
Weak and weary is now thy wing,
While the foe draws close and closer.

^OQ. — Spring.
Whep the waking flowers and imprisoned leaves now
Burst from their tombs, the birds, that lurked, withomi

being seen, ^

In the midst of the hybernal shade, in busy tribes
Pour their forgotten crowds, and derive.
From the smile of Spring, new rapture^ new life.

810 [scene.

Thou mayest then peacefully \ endure the passing
3ure of more noble life beyond the tomb.

Versification, 245

Where vice, pain, and error, shall no longer \ exist.
But untainted happiness, and consummate wisdom.
Fill the capacious soul, and crown the everlasting
811 [scene.

The ptire stream now, from the skoz&ers of April
Refined, shows each pebbU, that ornaments
Its bottom, and each scaly inhabitant
Glancing quick in the shallow parts, or, in pursuit
Of prey, sailing slowly in the deep.

How soft the harifnony of the bells of the tillage
Falling upon the ear at intervals
In phasing cadence, now all dying away,
Now again /ou^y pealing, and still more loudly,
Clear and sounding, as the gale approaches!

813
The moon rides high in the clouds,
That glisten, as they arz wafted athwart her disk.
Charming is the glimpse, that, for a little while, plays
Among these mouldering pinnacles. But, listen!
That dismal sound ! it is the owl,

814. — Young Birds stolen front the Nest.
In the mean lime, the younger victims, one after

another.
Drop off, destroyed by attention, and improper food.
One perhaps, more hardy than th^ others, s\]i'ViVes>
And, 'tween the bars with weeds
Entwined, suspended at some high window, hops
JVam one stick to another, his unvaried Utile rounds

^46 V Firsification*

S\5. — To Fancj/i.
Friend of my solitary hours ! thou conductest me
To such peaceful J pleasures, as Nature, wise and

good,
Vainly proffers to all her miserable sons —
Her miserable sons, who pine with yvant, in the midst of
The abundant earth, and hVmdly prostrate themseives
Before the Moloch altars of riches and power.

816
Do summer suns load the meudow^mih grass,
And color the ripening year * ? With sudden fury
The thunder-storm descends: the river rises,
Impatiently leaps the mound ;, and, while* the waves
Devour the crop, calls on thee,

man, to bexilarmed for thy daily sustenance.

817
Come, pensive Sadriess, thou, who avoidest
The haunts o^ mankind: it is thee I woo.
Come, appease the tumults of an agitated mind.

1 will che'rish thee as an acceptable \ visitor.

And, in $>ome place (^retirement, indulge in freedom
The gloom of sorrow, unkaown and unnoticed.

818
The heart is hard in nature, and not calculated
For human society, as being devoid
0( fellow feeling, and therefore equally dead

Both to qfcction and friendship, that is not delighted

. . '. ^

• In the ordinal, It is " Tear!* which, if not a typographic
erw for Ear [of corn\, seems latended by the author as a
m^toDymy -^ the year, for the produce of the year.

Vertificaiion. 247

With sight of living creatures enjoying existence^
And does not feel their happiness augment his*

819
While, with their heads under their ruSied feathers
Concealed, the birds, xhdit pursued their sport Awtiv^g

the day time,
Repose in those bushes, at the roots of which
The vivid worm illumes her spark that sfiines in the

night,
And, couching in that brake, the deer
Sleeps, \ forgetting each past alarm.
The evening tribes come out o/* their cells.

820
And what hthe life of man? a day's short journey,
Fraught with vicissitudes. Now up the wonderfud

height ^

Hope ascends, and views wistfully, and again views
The prospect which extends in length — calls the ^xo-^

sfect beautiful —
Now, like the kid, over the lawn
She springs ; then, in the midst of the waste,
Cheerfully siiigs, thbugh she does not hear any voice

around-
82 1 . — Children employed in Manufactories.
Behold! the poor elves, with pale faces, in torn \

garments,
Motley with half-spun threads^ ^nA flakes of cotton,
Trudge, drooping, to the li^y \ building.
In which, thpusan4. spindles whirling deafen the ear.
Confused. There, closely \ in^riaoned, they moil,

wretched.

248 Ffft^ation.

Charming age ! perverted from its proper end !
When childhood labors, the field ought to be the
scene.

822 [solitary wildd^

Full of thought f^ \ without a companion, I walk the
Pacing the earth with sluggish and lingering steps^
Vigilantly avoiding all haunts of human kind;
Intently watchful to shun with speed
The impertinent stare and prying eyes of the tmrld:
For, long bereft of cheerful and gay thought, [me.
My aj^earanceheti-ays the internal fire that consumes

823
Fresh from his lurking place, yon hollow trunk, see
The wild-cat, the most deadly of the savage tribes
That wander in British woods, | accustomed on high
To seise the squirrel, or by stratagem
Pluck the dove from her nest.
Or, coming down to the ground, thin the race
That bores the sandy warren,******

S24. — Home.
In that little expression, there is an enchantment:
It is a m^s^^a/ circle, that encompasses
Comforts and virtues which are never known beyond
The hallowed boundary. My heart heiS frequently
Asked for that peaceable haven : at present havened,

* The reader may compare these lines with the first eight of
No. 697; bothheiog trdneiiuions from tb6 twentj-eigbth sonnet
of Petrarch; The foroiev was first pubtisbed ; the ktter giv^d
afterwards by a difoenrbaii^ ,i^ a literal triltiiiatioD*

Fersification. 849

I r^ect on those, in the wildtm^of this zporld .
Who stray on, and da not find anjf home of rest*

82o
In thetnean tinU, the litile songsters, eager to cheer
Th&r partners \ ciosefy brooding io the brake tudler-

neath,
Strain ihw. ihvoata, or, with the attention of parents,
Conduct their offspring from twig to twig;
Instruct them to seise the gnat, to balance > .

Their friiigs in short flights, t<f make trial of their

strength.
And venturously \ commit themselves to the bosom tf

the air.

826
fVhither shall I turn myself? whither shall I dir^fct
My weary way f thus exhausted with labor, and faint,
How, through the mazes of this forest,
Reach my dwelling? That deep cry^
That echoes along the wood, | appears to sound
My ftnf//; it is the midnight homing
0( mooters prowling for thi^ir.prey.

89,7.- Civilised Socieity. . \maltitude
Happy I the man, thought uadistingulsbed b^m.S^^
By riches or dignity, who securely | resides ,.
Where man, naturally fierce, has />m* off
Hh fierce disposition, having learned, thouglii tai"^

V .. djfr I in learning.
The arts and the manners of civilised life.
His necessities indeed are numerous: but supply ^
Is obvious, being placed within the reach
Of industrious hands and temperate (fe^/re;.

•fiiO Venification.

828
O ye, ^ho court the silent pcflce/w/ retreats
Of contemplation, and who abot^e all prefer
The lonely walk— as being best suited to [liamits

The 'Views of those who sigh to penetrate the sccrtt
Of Nature, observing her vagaries,
And, as bold znAJreefram restraint as she, to niase
The free, the rapturous lay — continue, to face along
Your solitary way ; and delightful be your musings.

829. — Parental Jitthority,
See your friend, your best, your most sincere friend,
A parent, whose authority, in appearance
When severest, and collecting all its force,
Is only the graver countenance of affection,
Whose favor fnay lour, like the spring cloiiSr,
And somtiifhes ulter a YremfenrfoMS voice,
But has a blessing in the darkest of its frowUs,
, At the same moment threatening 'dtidfeeWtg the))heiAt
830 —Profusion.
Jt is a hungry vice. It devours | eveiy thihjg
ThvLi gives tx> society its strength, bciiuty,
Security, and coiivetatence, and utUity ;
Cofiverts men into mere vermin, deserting to be trapped,
And hanged on gibbets, as fast as catch pole claWs
Can lay hold &n the slippery prey; loosens the knot
Of union, and changes the band,
TbM holds the human kind together, into a scourge,

831.— rAc Owl
She mourns during the whole night, \ being perch'd

in some vacant niche,
Or li me-ren t crevice. To the forests sometimes^

Fersification. 251

She bends her silent wing, which moves slowly,
And on some tree, dead of old age.
Sits on the watch for her prey.. But, should the foot
Of man force its way into her shades,
He, being startled, hears ihe decayed breaking branch
Crash, as she rises : — further in the obscurity ,
She wings her way to deeper solitudes.

832.— I'Ae Swallows.
A long time before the gusts of winter^ with chilly

sweep,
Sigh through the groves, the swallow tribes.
Warned by heaven, \ assemble in airy bevies.
Or sit in clusters, as if in deep consultation
When to launch : but they linger and wait.
Until the weak of the last broods
Have collected sirengtb to venture on the seaward path.
At last, the twitter of adieu, spreading, sounds :
They flyjMp,and melt in the air at a distance,

&S3.— Death.
Death ! where the magic in that name,
That freezes my inmost heart ? At the idea, why
Starts, on every limb, the dew of fear ?
There ^are no terrors to e^iviron the grave.
When the mind, collected within itself,
Fiews that narrow habitation. The ghastly train, .
That haunt the midnight of Gwift,
Then disappear. — In thai home of everlastings | repo$e.
All. sorrows cease.****

834. — A January N^lit in Town.
Folly and Vice run their fo»iu2s;tbere s

252 Versification,

There multitudes are hastily going to the sight

Of fictitious distress, yet have not leisure to hear .

Theprayer of the shivering orphan. The flaring lam ps

Of chariots, drawn by pampered horses,

Illuminaie the snowy street : the wheels, foiling zciih^
oat noise.

Steal, unperceived, on incautious p^LSsenger,

Conveying the fair to flutter round

Amid the labyrinths of the dance.

'^^S^. — A February Night in a Village,

While the night cow^mMes long, and Jreary, and chilly,

As soon as the oblique sun has sunk from view.

The sound of the anvil cheerily invites
The fatigued \ rustic to leave his [ovni*]j^re,
^nd bask himself before the glare of the furnace ;
Where the rustic circle, blest with merriment | which

costs them nothing,
(While their faces are tinted with the yellow blaze)
Beguile the hours, and do not envy rooms of state.

83(i. — April.
The western gale now sweeps lightly over the plain ;
It gently waves the cascade of the rivulet :
It gently divides the lock on the brow of Beauty,
And raises the tresses from the white heck.
And bends the flewers, and causes the lily to stoop.
As if to kiss its image in the watef,
Or curls the poo/, with softest breath. [spaxkles.

Conduct, where, through the glade, yon spring
Over whose brink the narcissus bends,

' ■ ' 3 " ' ' ■ ' . — ' - ..- m*--.... . ,wm H ill !■! ■■ ■■ '

• The word, " ozen," is t« be omitted.

That delight to fra^ih tlie ^^ve its beauty ;
Wheire thtffMem 6^eve, uiliispering through the
Dips his mingi ia thii! ctirr^ Reaves,

And spriakles fteshii^ss' d^f* th6Jft^krsl
QST.—Mayi^Birdf Nests.
The little bird; from the hank cf tiifijtotptn, now
Picks the I7iosf/aiidilie9to the thicket.
And returns repeattMyy artd renews the work repeatedly,
Till all theyiiAhc hangs doitnpiete;
Ah ! but ill ii<2(2eit from threye of the school-boy,
Who, regardless of thteirrd's saddest plaint,
Snatches from the bush the /a6or of many afihour.

898. — June.
Unfortunate is the many whd, in this season, pent
Within the gfobwiof city lane.
Pines for the'flowfery paths, and shades of the woods,
From which the desire of gain or of poWer ^

Enticed his youthful steps. He un-Vatdilingly turns
The rich descriptive pages of Thomson's porm.
And endeavours to persuade himself that the lovely

scenes
Are before his eyes, \ In the same manner the hand of

childhood tries
To grasp the bunch of fruit or flowers represented in

a picture,
Boi; being disappointed, feels the canvas smooth.

QSg.^^SeptembeK
At hour of noon; the reaper band
R^id from* their labor*. Around- their simple ^fare,

* See the note in the following page.
Y

254 Vef^ification.

Spread upon the stubble^ they blitkesomdg form

A circling groupe, while behind humbly waits

The^^ogy and, with dgnifkant look

And pawing foot, hegs his little |>or^ion.

The short mealy seasoned with mirths

And not without sirring, gives place to sleep.

With sheaf ttite^er his head, \heyoui9grmtic

Enjoys sweet sleep, while the young woman he loves

Steals to his side, and shelters him from the suo.

840. — October.
The woods are hushed : not a bird is heard.
Except where the red-breast mourns the fall of the leaf.
At close of day now grown shorter, the reaper*, fa^

tiguedf
With sickle on his shoulder, hies towards home.
Night comes with menacing \ tempest, first lowfy

whispering,
S^hing amid the branches; then, gradualfy,
With violence increased at each pause.
It rages furiously, | terrifying startled sleep.

841. — December.
The hhst loudly blows. While, screewerf from itsyaiy.
The social circle feel their pleasures enhanced.
Ah ! little do they think of the ship,
In the midst of the uproar of the winds and billows-^
The billows unseen, except by the g/are oftheJigktningj
• Ot flash of the cannon, | melancholy signal of distress !

* These descriptions were ivritten ia Scotlaod, wbare the
harvest is not so early as in the southern parts of our island.

Ver$ificaiioH. 255

Each moment the crew \ fancy they feel
The shock ^ a $mken rock. At length they strike.
Wafted on the blast, their 'voices reach,
Faintly, the sea-girt hamlet. Assistance is un^availing.

Can prolific natvre present to the eye

A more noble scene, than when the retiring sun

Gleams on the fading prospect, and illuminates

The extensive view with a last stream of brightness f

The death of Virtue is similar; similar the glow

Of her last hour, that enlivens the mind.

When on the course of a life proper^ spent

The eye of the mind reverts, and continues to gaze.

Till the shades of death overwhelm the sight.

And lull the senses in a durable \ sleep.

*843 [thee,

England ! notwithstanding all thy faults, I still lov^
My native land ! and, while yet a comer is left,
Where English manners and minds may be found,
Shall he forced to love thee. Though thy climate
Be changeable, and thy year, for the most part, de-
With rains, or withered by a frost, [formed

Yet I would not exchange thy sullen skies
And &e\d^ destitute of flowers, for warmer France
With all her vineyards, nor for Ausonia's groves
Of golden ym^s, and her bowcTi" of myrtle,

844
How th^ delighted \ Are^s/ swells, when the eye
Rofoes, unsated with pleasure, from shade [hand

To shade, from grove to thicket, from groups near at

256 rer$yu0tiBn:

To yon prima^vijybres/^^ with darkeoingsweep
Retiring ; and perceives the \vhole with beauty
KindHngt and ghmug with reii^w^iiJifis !
For now^ at the re-^mimating c^U of spring.
Each native of the wood— from the trunk
Huge and towering^ dowa to the buA'-^
Again assume its owji pecnliar cbar£u>ter*

845
Behold, from his cavern ] under yon bramUy bank.
The fox glide forth, scenting the prey
Perched at the cottage til ^etttcinify. «| ^fott^iycrcieping,
^ The weasel, and nlenthf, through the fern,

Come$ unaware jon the dozing leveret. From her seat
She stalls, and carries aw^y the a88ailant,^^a»^^jieif
Firmly to her neck, and, from the flowing vein,
Sockiag the vital current, BehM ! she drops down : — r
Ttie murderer fimks into the brake
From t^e corcoif, sated wid) the blood*

846
Thus, wb/^Q ^t her standard
Pinnt^ on donate hturbarous shore, to mountains .
And fastnesses tn craggy rocks his warrior sons
The amVa^ec^ .Gjeniua of tfaemA^eriies wiihdrawB^
There bids thi^m, from ih^ detested influence
Of science free, their bloody rites.
Their unpolished maifiuers, and savage laws, uphold ;
Till destiny shall again pour them from their cavem<^
Eager over their loag^lost plains again •

Tq extend the veE of ignoranfiA and night.

B47.^Boiany Bay.
Why, stern Memory, must thy hard hand

Versification, 257

Harrow my saul? why recalk thy power

The fields of England to my eyes here in exile—

The pleasures which once were mine? Even now l-

The lowly, lovely habitation : even now [behorld

See the woodbine clasping itswrnUs^

And bear the red-breasts chirp around.

To ask theij* morning repast ; for I was accustomed,

With friendly hand, to furnish their morning repast,

Was accustomed to love their song, when lingering

morning
Streaked the light over the cfarlly landscape.

848
See yon pool, by springs.
Still nurtured, attract the crozf;ds that graie
The plain lying near. — On the bank worn bare/
And marked vfhh ten thousand -steps^ the colts
Join together in shifting groups ,- or,, to the brink -
Going dorvn, dip their pasterns in the water.-
The tribes that have horns y being bolder ^ or less of heat
And insects patient, far from shore
Immerge their chests ; and, while the swarm
Now soars i/p, now resolvJtely descends,
Lash their sides, and, stamping quickly
And frequently, scatter the fluid round.

849
The glow of evening i& faded. The West Hardly
Retains d pale memorial of the sun-beams
That made it blaze, when the horizontal clouds,
^With |)urple dies, and fissures Aorrf^r^i with gold;,
Streaked the calm aether; while, through Aazc,,

y 3

'fbe faint hills gUnimered, mort/idnt, as tfa^r Am
Came sear ip the fouDt of brigfatoess, still maarffmt.
As the darting prb d^icendfd, and vith tbe sky
l/tu^ in undtsliqguisbabl^ splandictf....
The sobsiding glow, w>re fi|f4l» still m^rc miU,
Spared the pained ^^ and, with sober rays
Extinguished in the gatheiing du^fc, refreshed the
ej/e-^igki.
850. — Th Finding of M^ms.
The Nile glides slowly. Amid the flags on the margk.
The babe is left, shut tfp in a bidru^h ark.
Left b; the hand of a mother. His sister waits
At a distance; and^ pale between hope and fear, sees
The royal virgin, surrounded by her attendants.
Draw near to the river ban|(, dra^i^ mor to the spot
. Where sleeps the chUd. She sees them stpop
To view the ark. . The lid of rushes i& opened.
And wakes the babe, smiling ia his tears ;
As when, along a small lake on a mountain.
The south"^wtnd qf summer breathes with gentle sigh,
And separates the reeds, showing, as they bend>
A wateHily, which floats on the wave. .*w

a51
What wonders can the divine power perform
More grand than it annually produces.
And all in sight of mapkirkd \ who pay nq attention ?
Beingfamiliar. with the effect, we disregard the caose^
And, in the constancy of the course of nature^
The regular recurrence of genial n^onths,,
And renewal of a faded world,,

DUeovernothing to woudqr at, Sboul(| CJod a^ga^
As on a certain occasion in Gibeoq*, mtfrr^jpi tfie

. . career
Of the punctual and undeviating sun,
How wonVd \\^ world be fistonished ! Bv^tdoes it speak

less
A divine agency, to make him kno\Y
His moment when to descend, and when to ascend.
Age after age, than to stop his course ?
Everjf thing that we behold, is miraqle: but, being

seen
Sq d^Iy, every thing is miracle to no purpose.

852. — Cnie/ Punishmmt ofet Negro Slave*
Inhuman Europeans! not satisfied
Vyith sentences of death, c^loft you hung your yiiBtim
Confined in a cage, to scorch beneath the torrid ray,
And feed, while yet alive, the fowls of heaven !
Behold! already they cling round the bars !
The head of the vulture looks through : sheinegecfu^

ally st^ises
To force her passage. The lesser* birds z^4i
'Till exhausted nature sinks: then they pounce pn,
And tear the^CTA. In excruciating pain
The victim awakes^ and rolls his eyes,
And with feeble effort drives away^tbe rave^iifig multi-
tudes of: birds,

* Gibem — The first syllable to be aocented, the two Iftitep
reduced b^ lynaBregis to que, as bian iu Gubion,

t See the remark^ on Lesser and Wbrsci', in page 07,

260 Versification.

He groans in the most dreadful manner : it is thirst,

thirst, thirsty
The most dire of human torments ! Down agaia
ii^ sinks: again he feels the beak»

853. — Ovid's Departure into Exile*.
While I scan in memory's mirror
The scenes of that night —
That night of deepest woe, when^ ybmi^ dragged by

destiny
From* every thing that my heart held dear, to Rome
I sorrowfully bade adieu — the tear
Even at this moment lolU down my cheek. The morrf

ing I was approaching
Of thatdoy, by Caesar's will
Previously ordained to be the period, when, within

thy boundaries,
Ah ! dearly-beloved Italy ! my steps
Might not any longer dare to tread : — nor sufficient
Had been the time allowed, nor had m)^ mind
(However submissive to the severe decree)
Exerted sufficient energy, to prepare myself
For the hour which impended: — the delay,
Indulged during too long a time, had frozen up my souT,
And benumbed the thinking poze?er within me.
Heedless, I did not select, from the menial throng
What slave should, in the xcilds of Scythia, ease
My various wants, v/hixi friend
Escort me on voy journey; nor store of dress

♦ From his 'iVijfjVy, book 1, elegjr 3;

Fenjfication* 26 i

Propj^r for this ungenial rade cihnate, nor any thing

Necefsary to life's enjoyaifenty occupied

My providential care. Bereft ofinteltect

I stood, as a person who, stunned by lightnings retains

The vital spark, without being cojascious that he is

' aUve.
At length the excess of my grief] dissipated the cloud
That before had darkened my reason ; and^ thoqght
Recovering its lost empire, i address,
^ In last, melancholy, parting speech, the sorrowful few
Who now remain, of friends that zs>erc lately so nu-
merous*>^

THE BND.

^ltncs tiillct, I'riuier, Cr«vvu court, Fledt-^t c^t, Loudun.

FuhtUhtdky BAtsviii, Ca a]>ock, and Joy y 47, PsUm^sttr-RoiOf
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editorial accuracy. The Works already proiiuced are— Horace, price
4s. Od.; Virgil, 6s.; Terence, 58.; Juvenal and Pcrsios, 3s.6d.; Lucan,
5S. 6d. ; Ovid, in 3 vols. 18s.; Catullus, Tibullus, and Propertius, in
one vol. 5s. ; an<l, in consequence of the urgent demand for some of
the most popular prose writers, ORsar^ Cicero, Tacitus, and Livy, will
immediately follow.

TRIGONOMETRY FOR SCHOOLS, kc.
ELEMENTS of Plane nnd Spherical Trigonometry; wilh their
Applications to Heights and Distances, Projections of the Sphere,
Dialling, Astronomy, the Solution of Equations, and Geodesic
Operations; intended for the Use of Mathematical Seminnries,
and of first-year Men at College. By Olinthus Gregory, LL.D.
of the Royql Military Academy, Woolwich ; Author of Letters
on the Evidences, Doctrines, and Duties of the Christian Reli-
gion ; a Treatise of Mechanics, and other V/orks ; in ISmo. price
5s. bound.

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