of, his mind is unaffected, and his life is unre- monosyllables is almost always harsh. This, formed. with regard to our language, is evidently true, not because monosyllables cannot compose harmony, but because our monosyllables being of Teutonic original, or formed by contraction, commonly begin and end with consonants, as, -Every lower faculty But though truth and virtue are thus frequently defeated by pride, obstinacy or folly, we are not allowed to desert them; for whoever can furnish arms which they hitherto have not employed, may enable them to gain some hearts which would have resisted any other method of attack. Every man of genius has some arts of fixing the attention peculiar to himself, by which, honestly exerted, he may benefit mankind; for the arguments for purity of life fail of their due influence, not because they have been considered and confuted, but because they have been passed over without consideration. To the position of Tully, that if Virtue could be seen, she must be loved, may be added, that if Truthi could be heard, she must be obeyed. But he that hath a curious piece design'd, "THERE is no reputation for genius," says Quintilian, "to be gained by writing on things, which, however necessary, have little splendour or show. The height of a building attracts the eye, but the foundations lie without regard. Yet since there is not any way to the top of science, but from the lowest parts, I shall think nothing unconnected with the art of oratory, which he that wants cannot be an orator." Confirmed and animated by this illustrious precedent, I shall continue my inquiries into Milton's art of versification. Since, however minute the employment may appear, of analysing lines into syllables, and whatever ridicule may be incurred by a solemn deliberation upon accents and pauses, it is certain, that without this petty knowledge no man can be a poet; and that from the proper disposition of single sounds results that harmony that adds force to reason, and gives grace to sublimity; that shackles attention, and governs passions. That verse may be melodious and pleasing, it is necessary, not only that the words be so ranged as that the accent may fall on its proper place, but that the syllables themselves be so chosen as to flow smoothly into one another. This is to be effected by a proportionate mixture of vowels and consonants, and by tempering the mute consonants with liquids and semivowels, The Hebrew grammarians have observed, that it is impossible to pronounce two consonants without the intervention of a vowel, or without some emission of the breath between one and the other; this is longer and more perceptible, as the sounds of the consonants are less harmonically conjoined, and, by consequence the flow of the verse is longer interrupted. It is pronounced by Dryden, that a line of Of sense, whereby they hear, sec, smell, touch, taste. from the collocation of vowels and consonants, The difference of harmony arising principally will be sufficiently conceived by attending to the following passages: Immortal Amarant-there grows And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life, The same comparison that I propose to be made between the fourth and sixth verses of this passage may be repeated between the last lines of the following quotations: -Under foot the violet, Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay Broidered the ground, more coloured than with stone Of costliest emblem. -Here in close recess, With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, Milton, whose ear had been accustomed, not only to the music of the ancient tongues, which, however vitiated by our pronunciation, excel all that are now in use, but to the softness of the Italian, the most mellifluous of all modern poetry, seems fully convinced of the unfitness of our language for smooth versification, and is therefore pleased with an opportunity of calling in a softer word to his assistance: for this reason, and I be lieve for this only, he sometimes indulges himself in a long series of proper names, and introduces them where they add little but music to his poem. The richer seat Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoil'd Guiana, whose great city Gerion's sons Call El Dorado The moon-The Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands. He has indeed been more attentive to his syllables than to his accents, and does not often of fend by collisions of consonants, or openings of vowels upon each other, at least not more often than other writers who have had less important or complicated subjects to take off their care from the cadence of their lines. The great peculiarity of Milton's versification, compared with that of later poets, is the elision of one vowel before another, or the suppression of the last syllable of a word ending with a vowel, when a vowel begins the following word. As -Knowledge Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns This license, though now disused in English poetry, was practised by our old writers, and is allowed in many other languages ancient and modern, and therefore the critics on "Paradise We Lost" have, without much deliberation, commend- There is reason to believe that we have negli gently lost part of our vowels, and that the silent e, which our ancestors added to the most of our monosyllables, was once vocal. By this detruncation of our syllables, our language is overstocked with consonants, and it is more necessary, to add vowels to the beginning of words, than to cut them off from the end. Milton frequently uses in his poems the hypermetrical or redundant line of eleven syllables. -Thus it shall befall I also err'd in over-much admiring. Verses of this kind occur almost in every dissonant, they ought to be admitted into heroic page; but, though they are not unpleasing or allow us no other distinction of epic and tragic poetry, since the narrow limits of our language measures, than is afforded by the liberty of changing at will the terminations of the dramatic lines, and bringing them by that relaxation of metrical rigour nearer to prose. TUESDAY, JAN. 22, 1751. Milton therefore seems to have somewhat mis- -What he gives, Fruits,-Hesperian fables true, If true, here only, and of delicious taste. -Evening now approach'd, For we have also our evening and our morn. Of guests he makes thein slaves. Inhospitably, and kills their infant males. And vital Virtue infused, and vital warmth, Throughout the fluid mass. God made thee of choice his own, and of his own To serve him. I believe every reader will agree, that in all those passages, though not equally in all, the music is injured, and in some the meaning ob scured. There are other lines in which the vowel is cut off, but it is so faintly pronounced in common speech, that the loss of it in poetry is scarcely perceived; and therefore such compliance with the measure may be allowed. Wisdom at proper times is well forgotten. HOR. LOCKE, whom there is no reason to suspect of being a favourer of idleness or libertinism, has advanced, that whoever hopes to employ any part of his time with efficacy and vigour, must allow some of it to pass in trifles. It is beyond the powers of humanity to spend a whole life in profound study and intense meditation, and the most rigorous exacters of industry and seriousness have appointed hours for relaxation and amuse ment. It is certain, that, with or without our consent, many of the few moments allotted us will slide imperceptibly away, and that the mind will break, from confinement to its stated task, into sudden excursions. Severe and connected attention is preserved but for a short time; and when a man shuts himself up in his closet, and bends his thoughts to the discussion of any abstruse question, he will find his faculties continually stealing away to more pleasing entertainments. He often perceives himself transported, he knows not how, to distant tracts of thought, and returns to his first object as from a dream, without knowing when he forsook it, or how long he has been abstracted from it. It has been observed that the most studious are not always the most learned. There is, indeed, no great difficulty in discovering that this difference of proficiency may arise from the difference of intellectual powers, of the choice of books, or the convenience of information. But I believe it likewise frequently happens that the most recluse are not the most vigorous prosecutors of study. Many impose upon the world, and many upon themselves by an appearance of severe and exemplary diligence, when they, in reality, give themselves up to the luxury of fancy, please their minds with regulating the past, or planning out the future; place themselves at will in varied situations of happiness, and slumber away their days in voluntary visions. In the journey of life some are left behind because they are naturally feeble and slow: some because they miss the way, and many because they leave it by choice, and, instead of pressing onward with a steady pace, delight themselves with momentary deviations, turn aside to pluck every flower, and | repose in every shade. 142 THE RAMBLER. beginning to seize him, should turn his whole attention against it, and check it at the first discovery by proper counteraction. There is nothing more fatal to a man whose business is to think, than to have learned the art of regaling his mind with those airy gratifications. The great resolution to be formed, when hapOther vices or follies are restrained by fear, reformed by admonition, or rejected by the convic- piness and virtue are thus formidably invaded, tion which the comparison of our conduct with is, that no part of life be spent in a state of neuthat of others may in time produce. But this in- trality or indifference; but that some pleasure visible riot of the mind, this secret prodigality of be found for every moment that is not devoted to being, is secure from detection, and fearless of labour; and that, whenever the necessary busireproach. The dreamer retires to his apart-ness of life grows irksome or disgusting, an imments, shuts out the cares and interruptions of mediate transition be made to diversion and mankind, and abandons himself to his own fancy; gayety. After the exercises which the health of the new worlds rise up before him, one image is followed by another, and a long succession of body requires, and which have themselves a nadelights dances round him. He is at last called tural tendency to actuate and invigorate the mind, back to life by nature, or by custom, and enters the most eligible amusement of a rational being peevish into society, because he cannot model it seems to be that interchange of thoughts which to his own will. He returns from his idle ex-is practised in free and easy conversation; where cursions with the asperity, though not with the knowledge, of a student, and hastens again to the same felicity with the eagerness of a man bent upon the advancement of some favourite science. The infatuation strengthens by degrees, and, like the poison of opiates, weakens his powers, without any external symptom of malignity. It happens, indeed, that these hypocrites of learning are in time detected, and convinced by disgrace and disappointment of the difference between the labour of thought, and the sport of musing. But this discovery is often not made till it is too late to recover the time that has been fooled away. A thousand accidents may indeed, awaken drones to a more early sense of their danger and their shame. But they who are convinced of the necessity of breaking from this habitual drowsiness, too often relapse in spite of their resolution; for these ideal seducers are always near, and neither any particularity of time nor place is necessary to their influence; they invade the soul without warning, and have often charmed down resistance before their approach is perceived or suspected. suspicion is banished by experience, and emulation by benevolence; where every man speaks with no other restraint than unwillingness to of fend, and hears with no other disposition than desire to be pleased. There must be a time in which every man trifles; and the only choice that nature offers us, is, to trifle in company or alone. To join profit with pleasure, has been an old precept among men who have had very different conceptions of profit. All have agreed that our amusements should not terminate wholly in the present moment, but contribute more or less to future advantage. He that amuses himself among well chosen companions, can scarcely fail to receive, from the most careless and obstreperous merriment which virtue can allow, some useful hints; nor can converse on the most familiar topics, without some casual information. The loose sparkles of thoughtless wit may give new light to the mind, and the gay contention for paradoxical positions rectify the opinions. This is the time in which those friendships that give happiness or consolation, relief or security, are generally formed. A wise and good man is This captivity, however, it is necessary for never so amiable as in his unbended and familiar every man to break, who has any desire to be intervals. Heroic generosity, or philosophical wise or useful, to pass his life with the esteem of discoveries, may compel veneration and respect, others, or to look back with satisfaction from his but love always implies some kind of natural or old age upon his earlier years. In order to re- voluntary equality, and is only to be excited by gain liberty, he must find the means of flying from that levity and cheerfulness which disencumber himself; he must, in opposition to the stoic pre-all minds from awe and solitude, invite the mocept, teach his desires to fix upon eternal things; he must adopt the joys and the pains of others, and excite in his mind the want of social pleasures and amicable communication. dest to freedom, and exalt the timorous to confidence. This easy gayety is certain to please, whatever be the character of him that exerts it; if our superiors descend from their elevation, we love them for lessening the distance at which we are placed below them; and inferiors, from whom we can receive no lasting advantage, will always keep our affections while their sprightliness and mirth contribute to our pleasure. It is, perhaps, not impossible to promote the cure of this mental malady, by close application to some new study, which may pour in fresh ideas, and keep curiosity in perpetual motion. But study requires solitude, and solitude is a Every man finds himself differently affected state dangerous to those who are too much accustomed to sink into themselves. Active em- by the sight of fortresses of war, and palaces of ployment or public pleasure is generally a neces-pleasure; we look on the height and strength of sary part of this intellectual regimen, without which, though some remission may be obtained, a complete cure will scarcely be effected. This is a formidable and obstinate disease of the intellect, of which, when it has once become radicated by time, the remedy is one of the hardest tasks of reason and of virtue. Its slightest attacks therefore, should be watchfully opposed; and he that finds the frigid and narcotic infection the bulwarks with a kind of gloomy satisfaction, for we cannot think of defence without admitting images of danger; but we range delighted and jocund through the gay apartments of the pa lace, because nothing is impressed by them on the mind but joy and festivity. Such is the dif ference between great and amiable characters; with protectors we are safe, with companions wa are happy. hexameter might be easily observed, but in English will very frequently be in danger of violation; for the order and regularity of accents cannot well be perceived in a succession of fewer than three syllables, which will confine the English poet to only five pauses; it being supposed that when he connects one line with another, he should never make a full pause at less distance than that of three syllables from the beginning or end of a verse. It is very difficult to write on the minuter parts of literature without failing either to please or instruct. Too much nicety of detail disgusts the greatest part of readers, and to throw a multitude of particulars under general heads, and lay down rules of extensive comprehension, is to common That this rule should be universally and inunderstandings of little use. They who under-dispensably established, perhaps cannot be take these subjects are therefore always in dan- granted; something may be allowed to variety, ger, as one or other inconvenience arises to their and something to the adaptation of the numbers imagination, of frighting us with rugged science, to the subject; but it will be found generally or amusing us with empty sound. necessary, and the ear will seldom fail to suffer by its neglect. In criticising the work of Milton, there is, indeed, opportunity to intersperse passages that can hardly fail to relieve the languors of attention; and since, in examining the variety and choice of the pauses with which he has diversified his numbers, it will be necessary to exhibit the lines in which they are to be found, perhaps the remarks may be well compensated by the examples, and the irksomeness of grammatical disquisitions somewhat alleviated. Milton formed his scheme of versification by the poets of Greece and Rome, whom he proposed to himself for his models, so far as the difference of his language from theirs would permit the imitation. There are indeed many inconveniences inseparable from our heroic measure compared with that of Homer and Virgil; inconveniences, which it is no reproach to Milton not to have overcome, because they are in their own nature insuperable; but against which he has struggled with so much art and diligence, that he may at least be said to have deserved success. The hexameter of the ancients may be consi dered as consisting of fifteen syllables, so melodiously disposed, that, as every one knows who has examined the poetical authors, very pleas ing and sonorous lyric measures are formed from the fragments of the heroic. It is, indeed, scarce possible to break them in such a manner, but that invenias etiam disjecta membra poeta, some harmony will still remain, and the due proportions of sound will always be discovered. This measure therefore allowed great variety of pauses, and great liberties of connecting one verse with another, because wherever the line was interrupted, either part singly was musical. But the ancients seem to have confined this privilege to hexameters; for in their other mea. sures, though longer than the English heroic, those who wrote after the refinements of versification, venture so seldom to change their pauses, that every variation may be supposed rather a compliance with necessity than the choice of judgment. Milton was constrained within the narrow limits of a measure not very harmonious in the utmost perfection; the single parts, therefore, into which it was to be sometimes broken by pauses, were in danger of losing the very form of verse. This has, perhaps, notwithstanding all his care, sometimes happened. As harmony is the end of poetical measures, no part of a verse ought to be so separated from the rest as not to remain still more harmonious than prose, or to show, by the disposition of the tones, that it is part of a verse. This rule in the old 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; 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 drowse, He ended, and the Son gave signal high First in the east his glorious lamp was seen, The same defect is perceived in the following line, where the pause is at the second syllable from the beginning TUESDAY, JAN. 29, 1751. Dulcis inexpertis cultura potentis amici, Expertus metuil. for the most part upon a strong syllable, as the | No. 91.] HOR. To court the great ones, and to soothe 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 con The rest in the fifth place has the same inconvenience as in the seventh and third, that the syl-vened, in which it was resolved, that Patronage lable is weak. Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl, 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 heaven 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, Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles, He blew His trumpet, heard in Oreb since, perhaps 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. 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 com manded to supply. As she advanced towards Parnassus, the cloud which had long hung over it, was immediately dispelled. The shades, be fore withered with drought, spread their original chilness brightened their colours, and invigorated verdure, and the flowers that had languished with their scents; the Muses tuned their harps and exerted their voices; and all the concert of nature welcomed her arrival. On Parnasses she fixed her residence, in a pawhatever could delight the eye, elevate the ima lace raised by the Sciences, and adorned with gination, 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 to her regard. Those therefore, who had solicited her favour without success, generally withdrew from public notice, and either diverted their attention to meaner employments, or endeavoured to supply their deficiences by closer application. In time, however, the number of those who had miscarried in their pretensions grew so great, that they became less ashamed of their repulses; and, instead of hiding their disgrace in retirement, began to besiege the gates of the palace, and obstruct the entrance of such as they thought likely to be more caressed. The decisions of Patronage, who was but half a goddess, had been sometimes erroneous; and though she al |