In the harmony of periods two things are to be considered. First, agreeable sound, or modulation in general, without any particular expression. Next, the sounds so ordered, as to become expressive of the sense. The first is the more common; the second the superior beauty.

The beauty of musical construction depends upon the choice and arrangement of words. Those words are most pleasing to the ear, which are composed of smooth and liquid sounds, in which there is a proper intermixture of vowels and consonants without too many harsh consonants, or too many open vowels in succession. Long words are generally more pleasing to the ear than monosyllables; and those are the most musical, which are not wholly composed of long or short syllables, but of an intermixture of them; such as delight, amuse, velocity, celerity, beautiful, impetuosity. If the words, however, which compose a sentence, be ever so well chosen and harmonious; yet, if they be u skilfully arranged, the music is entirely lost. As an instance of a musical sentence, we may take the following from Milton; "we shall conduct you to a hill side, laborious indeed at the first ascent; but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospects and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming." Every thing in this sentence conspires to render it harmonious. The words are well chosen; laborious, smooth, green, goodly, melodious, charming; and so happily arranged, that no alteration can be made without injuring the melody.

There are two things on which the music of a sentence principally depends; these are, the proper distribution of the several members of it, and the close or cadence of the whole.

First, the distribution of the several members should be carefully regarded. Whatever is easy to the organs of speech is always grateful to the ear. While a period advances, the termination of each member forms a pause in the pronunciation; and these pauses should be so distributed, as to bear a certain musical proportion to each other. This will be best illustrated by examples. "This discourse concerning the easiness of God's commands, does all along suppose and

acknowledge the difficulties of the first entrance upon a religious course; except only in those persons who have had the happiness to be trained up to religion by the easy and insensible degrees of a pious and virtuous education." This sentence is far from being harmonious; owing chiefly to this, that there is but one pause in it, by which it is divided into two members; each of which is so long, as to require a considerable stretch of breath in pronouncing it. On the contrary, let us observe the grace of the following passage from Sir William Temple, in which he speaks sarcastically of man. But, God be thanked, his pride is greater than his ignorance; and, what he wants in knowledge, he supplies by sufficiency. When he has looked about him as far as he can, he concludes there is no more to be seen; when he is at the end of his line, he is at the bottom of the ocean; when he has shot his best, he is sure none ever did, or even can shoot better, or beyond it. His own reason he holds to be the certain measure of truth; and his own knowledge, of what is possible in nature." Here every thing is at once easy to the breath, and grateful to the ear. We must however observe, that if composition abound with sentences which have too many rests, and these placed at intervals apparently measured and regular, it is apt to savour of affectation.

The next thing which demands attention, is the close or cadence of the period. The only important rule, which can here be given, is this, when we aim at dignity or elevation, the sound should increase to the last; the longest members of the period, and the fullest and most sonorous words, should be reserved for the conclusion. As an instance of this, the following sentence of Addison may be given. "It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas; converses with its objects at the greatest distance; and continues the longest in action without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments." Here every reader must be sensible of beauty in the just distribution of the pauses, and in the manner of rounding the period, and of bringing it to a full and harmonious close.

It may be remarked, that little words in the conclusion of a sentence are as injurious to melody, as they are inconsistent with strength of expression. A mu

sical close in our language seems in general to require either the last syllable, or the last but one, to be a long syllable. Words which consist chiefly of short sylla bles, as contrary, particular, retrospect, seldom terminate a sentence harmoniously, unless a previous run of long syllables has rendered them pleasing to the ear.

Sentences, however, which are so constructed, as to make the sound always swell towards the end, and rest either on the last or penult syllable, give a discourse the tone of declamation. If melody be not varied, the ear is soon cloyed with it. Sentences constructed in the same manner, with the pauses at equal intervals, should never succeed each other. Short sentences must be blended with long and swelling ones, to render discourse sprightly as well as magnifi

cent.

We now proceed to treat of a higher species of harmony; the sound adapted to the sense. Of this we may remark two degrees. First, the current of sound suited to the tenor of a discourse. Next, a peculiar resemblance effected between some object, and the sounds that are employed in describing it.

Sounds have in many respects an intimate correspondence with our ideas; partly natural, partly produced by artificial associations. Hence, any modulation of sound continued, stamps on style a certain character and expression. Sentences, constructed with Ciceronian fulness, excite an idea of what is important, magnificent, and sedate. But they suit no violent passion, no eager reasoning, no familiar address. These require measures brisker, easier, and often more abrupt. It were as absurd to write a panegyric and an invective in a style of the same cadence, as to set the words of a tender love song to the tune of a warlike march.

Besides the general correspondence of the current of sound with the current of thought, a more particular expression of certain objects by resembling sounds may be attempted. In poetry this resemblance is chiefly to be sought. It obtains sometimes, indeed, in prose composition, but there in an inferior degree.

The sounds of words may be employed for representing chiefly three classes of objects; first, other

sounds; secondly, motions; and thirdly, the emotions and passions of the mind.

In most languages the names of many particular sounds are so formed, as to bear some resemblance of the sound which they signify; as with us the whistling of winds, the buzz and hum of insects, the hiss of serpents, and the crash of falling timber; and many other instances, where the same is plainly adapted to the sound it represents. A remarkable example of this beauty may be taken from two passages in Milton's Paradise Lost; in one of which he describes the sound, made by the opening of the gates of hell; in the other, that made by the opening of the gates of heaven. The contrast between the two, exhibits to great advantage the art of the poet. The first is the opening of hefl's gates:

-On a sudden open fly

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound
The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate

Harsh thunder.

Observe the smoothness of the other :

-Heaven opened wide

:

Her ever during gates, harmonious sound!
On golden hinges turning.-

In the second place, the sound of words is frequently employed to imitate motion, as it is swift or slow, violent or gentle, uniform or interrupted, easy or accompanied with effort. Between sound and motion there is no natural affinity; yet in the imagination there is a strong one, as is evident from the connexion between music and dancing. The poet can therefore give us a lively idea of the kind of motion he would describe, by the help of sounds which in our imagination correspond with that motion. Long syllables naturally excite an idea of slow motion; as in this line of Virgil,

Oili inter sese magna vi brachia tollunt.

A succession of short syllables gives the impression of a quick motion; as,

**

Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus.

The works of Homer and Virgil abound with instances of this beauty, which are so often quoted, and so well known, that it is unnecessary to produce them.

The third set of objects, which the sound of words is capable of representing, consists of emotions and passions of the mind. Between sense and sound there appears to be no natural resemblance. But if the arrangement of syllables by their sound alone recall one set of ideas more readily than another, and dispose the mind for entering into that affection which the poet intends to raise; such arrangement may with propriety be said to resemble the sense. Thus, when pleasure, joy, and agreeable objects, are described by one who feels his subject, the language naturally runs in smooth, liquid, and flowing numbers:

-Namque ipsa decoram

Cæsariem natò genetrix, lumenque juventæ
Purpureum, et lætos oculis afflarat honores.

Brisk and lively sensations exact quicker and more animated numbers:

-Juvenum manus emicat ardens

Littus in Hesperium.

Melancholy and gloomy subjects are naturally connected with slow measures and long words:

In those deep solitudes and awful cells
Where heavenly pensive contemplation dwells.

Abundant instances of this kind are suggested by a moderate acquaintance with good poets, either ancient or modern.

How are sentences considered with respect to harmony? What words are most pleasing to the ear?

Is it sufficient to choose harmonious words?

Give an instance of a musical sentence.

What is the first thing on which the melody of a sentence depends?

Give an example.