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The distinction also between the connected letter sounds zh and sh does not appear in our orthography, though at once sensible to the ear in comparing the sound of azure with that of Ashur.

That wh represents the whisper sound of w will, I think, be clear, if we compare the initial sounds of where, when, while, with those of were, wen, wile. It is probable that in the Anglo-Saxon hwer, hwen, hwile, the w may have been vocal, and the h may have represented a distinct breathing; but it would be difficult to account for the change of hw into wh, which took place at so early a period (perhaps as early as the 12th century), unless it indicated a change in the pronunciation; and this change would naturally be to the whisper sound of the w.

In this view of the case w may put in a fair claim to the title of consonant. If the true definition of a vowel be, that it is a letter which makes any part of a word, into which it enters, a distinct syllable, then w has clearly no right to the title of vowel. Nor can we reasonably call the initial sounds of were, wen, wile dipthongal, unless we allow the initial sounds of where, when, while, to be dipthongs also. But were this so, we should have part of a dipthong a mere whisper while the other part remained vocal. Our w then, amid a choice of difficulties, may, perhaps, be allowed the title of consonant; but the same reasoning does not apply to the y. The latter, I think, can only be considered as a letter indicating the initial sound of a dipthong.

The whisper sounds of the two liquids l, r, constitute two distinct letters in Welsh, and in several other languages. I am also inclined to think that the Latin rh, if not the Greek 'p, indicated merely the whisper sound of the r.

That these letters p, t, k, f, &c. are the whisper sounds of b, d, g, v, &c. may, I think, be shown without much difficulty. If we try to pronounce the words ab, ad, ag, av, &c. in a whisper they cannot be distinguished from ap,

at, ak, af, &c. Again, the vibrations of the organs, which are obvious while we are pronouncing a vocal letter, cease immediately we change to the whisper sound; but the disposition of the organs remains unchanged. Thus, in pronouncing the v of av, if we change to a whisper, the vibrations of the lips and teeth cease; and without any change in the position of the organs we find ourselves pronouncing f.

The number then of English consonantal sounds, if we consider w as one, amounts to twenty-two; whereof thirteen are vocal and nine mere whisper sounds.

The vowels are eleven in number. The long a, e, o, u, as heard in father, reel, roll, rule; au and a as heard in aught, ate; and the short a, e, i, o, u, as heard in pat, pet, pit, pot, put. The dipthongs are twelve, ei, oi and ou, as heard in height, hoity, out; and eleven others formed by prefixing y to the eleven vowels. These are heard in the following words, yardh, yean, yoke, yule, yawn, yare, yap, yell, yif, yon, young.

Having said thus much on the formation of our elementary sounds, we will now consider in what way and to what extent they may be rendered useful, in embellishing and perfecting the rhythm.

If, as is often the case, besides the idea which the usage of language has connected with certain words, there are others which are naturally associated with the sounds or with the peculiarities of their formation, it is obvious, that the impression on the mind must be the most vivid, when the natural associations can be made to coincide with such as are merely artificial and conventional. In all languages there are certain words in which this coincidence is perfect. In our own we have hiss, kaw, bah, and a few others, in which the natural sound so closely resembles the articulate sound which represents it, that many have fallen into the error of supposing the latter a mere imitation of the former. The number, however, of these imitative sounds in any language is but scanty, and

the assistance they render is both obvious and vulgar. The delicate perceptions of the poet demand the gratification more frequently than it is supplied by the ordinary resources of language. It is by the command which he possesses over this noblest of all gifts (after reason) that he seeks to obtain it.

In the next section we shall trace some of the artifices which have been adopted to arrive at these imitative sounds; and afterwards enquire how far the peculiarities which attend the formation of our letters, as regards the disposition and action of the organs, can assist us in the fit and suitable expression of the thought.

IMITATIVE SOUNDS.

"There is found," says Bacon, 66 a similitude between the sound, that is made by inanimate bodies, or by animate bodies that have no voice articulate, and divers letters of articulate voices; and commonly men have given such names to those sounds as do allude unto the articulate letters; as trembling of water hath resemblance to the letter 7; quenching of hot metals to the letter z; snarling of dogs with the letter r; the noise of screech owls with the letter sh, voice of cats with the dipthong eu, voice of cuckoos with the dipthong ou, sounds of strings with the dipthong ng."-Century I.

When we pronounce the letter 7, the breath in escaping under the side teeth presses against the yielding tongue, which may be considered as fixed at its root and tip. The tongue, like other flaccid bodies in similar circumstances, vibrates with a slow and uncertain trembling. This strongly resembles the motion of water. "Running waters," Bacon elsewhere observes, represent to the ear a trembling noise, and in regals, where they have a pipe they call the nightingale pipe, which containeth water, the sound hath a continual trembling; and children have also little things they call cocks, which have

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water in them, and when they blow or whistle in them they yield a trembling noise." It is in this inequality of trepidation, that the resemblance above alluded to seems chiefly to consist. Our great poets afford us many beautiful examples; in the Witches' song we almost hear the bubbling of the cauldron;

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell broth boil and bubble.

ALL. Double, double toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Not less happy are the following passages,

Gloster stumbled, and in falling

Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard

Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.

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R. 3.

P. L.

The hypothesis that has been ventured as to the origin of the resemblance, thus noticed by Bacon, is strengthened by observing, that our poets always affect this letter, whenever they have to describe a yielding wavy motion. The tye, which links such an association with the letter l, is obvious.

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R, though a trembling letter, has a character of sound differing in many particulars from that of 7. In the first place it has a narrow sound, not unlike e, while that of

has a decidedly broad one. In the second place the vibrations, instead of being slow and uncertain like those of l, are quick and decided. Its sound was likened, even by Roman critics, to the snarling of the dog; but it has a resemblance to any narrow sound, which is broken in upon by short quick interruptions. Hence its power in expressing harsh, grating, and rattling noises.

In the two first of the following examples, the roll of a liquid mass is beautifully contrasted with the harsh rattle of rock or shingle, on which it is supposed to act.

As burning Ætna from his boiling stew

Doth belch out flames, and rocks in pieces broke,

And ragged ribs of mountains molten new,

Enwrapt in cole-black clouds.

F. Q. 1. 11. 44.

As raging seas are wont to roar,

When wintry storm his wrathful wreck does threat,

The rolling billows beat the ragged shore.

F. Q. 1. 11. 21.

With clamour thence the rapid currents drive
Tow'rds the retreating sea their furious tide.

As an aged tree

Whose heart-strings with keen steel nigh hewen be,
The mighty trunk, half rent with ragged rift,
Doth roll adown the rocks and fall with fearful drift.

And she whom once the semblance of a scar
Appall'd, an owlet's larum chill'd with dread,
Now views the column-scatt'ring bay'net jar.

On a sudden open fly

P. L.

F. Q.

Childe Harold, 1.

With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound

Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder.

P. L. 2.

The brazen throat of war had ceas'd to roar,
All now was turn'd to jollity and game.

P. L. 11.

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