than that of three syllables from the beginning or end of a verse.

That this rule should be universally and indispensibly established, perhaps cannot be granted; something may be allowed to variety, and something to the adaptation of the numbers to the subject; but it will be found generally necessary, and the ear will seldom fail to suffer by its neglect.

Thus, when a single syllable is cut off from the rest, it must either be united to the line with which the sense connects it, or be sounded alone. If it be united to the other line, it corrupts its harmony; if disjoined, it must stand alone, and with regard to music be superfluous; for there is no harmony in a single sound, because it has no proportion to another.

Hypocrites austerely talk,

Defaming as impure what God declares
Pure;

and commands to some, leaves free to all.

When two syllables likewise are abscinded from the rest, they evidently want some associate sounds to make them harmonious.

-Eyes

-more wakeful than to drouze,
Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the past'ral reed
Of Hernies, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile
To re-salute the world with sacred light
Leucothea wak'd.

He ended, and the sun gave signal high
To the bright minister that watch'd; he blew
His trumpet.

First in the east his glorious lamp was seen,
Regent of day; and all th' horizon round
Invested with bright rays, jocund to run

His longitude through heav'n's high road; the gray
Dawn, and the Pleiades, before him danc'd,
Shedding sweet influence.

The same defect is perceived in the following line, where the pause is at the second syllable from the beginning:

The race

"Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
In Rhodope, where the woods and rocks had ears
To rapture, till the savage clamour drown'd
Both harp and voice; nor could the muse defend
Her son.
So fail not thou, who thee implores.

When the pause falls upon the third syllable or the seventh, the harmony is better preserved; but as the third and seventh are weak syllables, the period leaves the ear unsatisfied, and in expectation of the remaining part of the verse:

He, with his horrid crew,

Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulph,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserv'd to him more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments bim.

God...............with frequent intercourse,
Thither will send his winged messengers
On errands of supernal grace. So sung
The glorious train ascending.

It may be, I think, established as a rule, that a pause which concludes a period should be made for the most part upon a strong syllable, as the fourth and sixth; but those pauses which only suspend the sense, may be placed upon the weaker. Thus the rest in the third line of the first passage satisfies the ear better than in the fourth; and the close of the second quotation better than of the third:

The evil soon

Drawn back, redoundled (as a flood) on those
From whom it sprung; impossible to mix
With blessedness.

What we by day

Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind,
One night or two with wanton growth derides,
Tending to wild.

The paths and bow'rs doubt not but our joint hands
Will keep from wilderness with ease as wide

As we need walk, till younger hands ere long

Assist us.

The rest in the fifth place has the same inconvenience as in the seventh and third, that the syllable is weak:

Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl,
And fish with fish, to graze the herb all leaving,
Devour'd each other; nor stood much in awe
Of man, but fled him, or with countenance grim,
Glar'd on him passing.

The noblest and most majestic pauses which our versification admits, are upon the fourth and sixth syllables; which are both strongly sounded in a pure and regular verse, and at either of which the line is so divided, that, both members participate of harmony:

But now at last the sacred influence

Of light appears, and from the walls of heav'n
Shoots far into the bosom of dim night
A glimmering dawn; here nature first begins
Her farthest verge, and chaos to retire.

But far above all others, if I can give any credit to my own ear, is the rest upon the sixth syllable, which taking in a complete compass of sound, such as is sufficient to constitute one of our lyric measures, makes a full and solemn close. Some passages which conclude at this stop, I could never read without some strong emotions of delight or admiration:

Before the hills appear'd, or fountain flow'd,
Thou with th' eternal wisdom didst converse,

Wisdom thy sister; and with her didst play
In presence of th' Almighty Father, pleas'd
With thy celestial song.

Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles,
Like those Hesperian gardens fam'd of old,
Fortunate fields, and groves, and flow'ry vales,
Thrice happy isles! But who dwelt happy there,
He staid not to inquire.

He blew

His trumpet, heard in Oreb since, perhaps

When God descended; and, perhaps, once more
To sound at general doom.

If the poetry of Milton be examined with regard to the pauses and flow of his verses into each other, it will appear that he has performed all that our language would admit; and the comparison of his numbers with those who have cultivated the same manner of writing, will show that he excelled as much in the lower as the higher parts of his art, and that his skill in harmony was not less than his invention or his learning.

No. XCI. TUESDAY, JANUARY 29, 1751.

Dulcis inexpertis cultura potentis amici,
Expertus metuit.

HOB.

To court the great ones, and to sooth their pride,
Seems a sweet task to those that never tried;
But those that have, know well that danger's near.
CREECH'

THE Sciences having long seen their votaries labouring for the benefit of mankind without reward, put up their petition to Jupiter for a more equitable distribution of riches and honours. Jupiter was moved at their complaints, and touched with the approaching miseries of men, whom the Sciences, wearied with perpetual ingratitude, were now threatening to forsake;

and who would have been reduced by their departure to feed in dens upon the mast of trees, to hunt their prey in deserts, and to perish under the paws of animals stronger and fiercer than themselves.

A synod of the celestials was therefore convened, in which it was resolved that Patronage should descend to the assistance of the Sciences. Patronage was the daughter of Astrea, by a mortal father, and had been educated in the school of Truth, by the goddesses whom she was now appointed to protect. She had from her mother that dignity of aspect which struck terror into false merit; and from her mistress that reserve which made her only accessible to those whom the Sciences brought into her presence.

She came down with the general acclamation of all the powers that favour learning. Hope danced before her, and Liberality stood at her side, ready to scatter by her direction the gifts which Fortune, who followed her,was commanded to supply. As she advanced towards Parnassus, the cloud which had long hung over it, was immediately dispelled. The shades, before withered with drought, spread their original verdure, and the flowers that had languished with chillness, brightened their colours, and invigorated their scents, the Muses tuned their harps and exerted their voices, and all the concert of nature welcomed her arrival.

On Parnassus she fixed her residence, in a palace raised by the Sciences, and adorned with whatever could delight the eye, elevate the imagination, or enlarge the understanding. Here she dispersed the gifts of Fortune with the impartiality of Justice, and the discernment of Truth. Her gate stood always open, and Hope sat at the portal, inviting to entrance all whom the Sciences numbered in their train. The court was therefore thronged with innumerable multitudes, of whom, though many returned disappointed, seldom any had confidence to complain; for Patronage was known to neglect few, but for want of the due claims