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There are, however, a few poems, in which they are admitted freely enough to give a peculiar character to the rhythm. One of these poems is the Elegy written by Brysket, (though generally ascribed to Spenser,) on the death of Sir Philip Sidney. It has very little poetical merit, but deserves attention, as having undoubtedly been in Milton's eye, when he wrote his Lycidas. From it Milton borrowed his irregular rhimes, and that strange mixture of Christianity and Heathenism, which shocked the feelings and roused the indignation of Johnson. It may be questioned, if the peculiarity in the metre can fairly be considered as a blemish. Like endings, recurring at uncertain distances, impart a wildness and an appearance of negligence to the verse, which suits well with

the character of elegy. But to bring in St. Peter hand in (as Milion in hand with a pagan deity is merely ludicrous; it was has done.) the taste of the age, and that is all that can be urged in its excuse. Still, however, the beauties of this singular poem may well make us tolerant of even greater absurdity. No work of Milton has excited warmer admiration, or called forth more strongly the zeal of the partizan. The elegy on Sir Philip Sidney will afford us a specimen of rather a curious rhythm; and at the same time enable us to judge of Milton's skill in changing the baser metal into gold. It should be observed, that, in some editions, the sections are written in separate lines, as if they formed distinct verses.

THE MOURNING MUSE OF THESTYLIS.

Come forth, ye Nymphs! come forth, forsake your wat❜ry bowers,
Forsake your mossy caves, and help me to lament ;

Help me to tune | my doleful notes to gurgling sound

Of Liffie's tumbling streams, come let salt tears of ours,

Mix with his waters fresh: O come, let one consent

Joyn us to mourn | with wail|ful plaints: the deadly wound
Which fatal clap had made, decreed by higher powers

The drery day, in which they have from us yrent

The noblest plant that might from east to west be found,

Mourn, mourn great Philip's fall! mourn we his woeful end,
Whom spiteful death hath pluckt untimely from the tree,
Whiles yet his years in flowre did promise worthy fruit, &c.
Up from his tomb: the mighty Corineus rose,
Who cursing oft the Fates that his mishap had bred,
His hoary locks he tare, calling the Heavens unkind;
The Thames was heard to roar, the Reyne and eke the Mose,
The Schald, the Danow's self this great mischance did rue,
With torment and with grief their fountains pure and clear
Were troubled and | with swelling floods: declar'd | their woes.
The Muses comfortless, the Nymphs with pallid hue.

The Sylvan Gods likewise came running far and near;
And, all with tears bedew'd and eyes cast up on high,

O help, O help, ye Gods! they ghastly gan to cry.
O change the cruel fate of this so rare a wight,
And grant that nature's course may measure out his age.
The beasts their food forsook and trembled fearfully,
Each sought his cave or den this cry did them so fright,
Out from amid the waves by storm then stirr'd to rage,
This cry did cause to rise th' old father Ocean hoar;
Who grave with eld and full of majesty in sight

Spake | in this wise: Refrain, quoth he, your tears | and plaints|,
Cease these your idle words, make vain requests no more;
No humble speech nor mone may move the fixed stint

Of Destiny or Death; such is his will that paints

The earth with colours fresh, the darkest skyes with store
Of starry lights: and though your tears | a heart | of flint|
Might tender make, yet nought herein they will prevail.
Whiles thus he said: the noble Knight | who gan | to feel|
His vital force to faint, and death with cruel diut
Of dire ful dart: his mortal body to assail,

With eyes lift up to Heav'n, and courage frank as steel,
With cheerful face: where val our lively was | exprest,
But humble mind, he said, O Lord, if ought this frail
And earthly carcass have thy service sought t'advance,
If my desire hath been, still to relieve th' opprest;

If justice to maintain, that valour I have spent
Which thou me gav'st; or if henceforth I might advance

Thy name, thy truth, then spare | me, Lord]: if thou think best

Forbear these unripe years. But if thy will be bent,

:

If that prefixed time | be come which thou | hast set,
Through pure and fervent faith I hope now to be placed
In th' everlasting bliss, which with thy precious blood
Thou purchase did for us. With that a sigh he fet,
And straight a cloudy mist his senses over-cast;
His lips waxt pale and wan, like damask roses bud
Cast from the stalk, or like in field to purple flowre,
Which languisheth being shred by culter as it past.

A trembling chilly cold ran through their veins, which were
With eyes brimfull of tears, to see his fatal houre, &c.

VERSES OF SEVEN ACCENTS

May be divided, like those of six, into two classes, accordingly as they begin or end with the compound section. Both these classes were known to the Anglo-Saxons; but under the influence of the psalm metres the latter gradually gave way, in the same manner as the corresponding rhythm in the metre of six accents. It was, however, very freely used by certain of our poets, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; more especially by Phaer and Chapman.

We will first take the verses that begin with the compound section. Cædmon generally opened the first section with an accent, and the second with an unaccented syllable.

17:17. c: 2 ll.

And moste ane tid: ute weorthan

Wes an ane winter stun de: thon ne ic mid | this wer ode
And might I one season outfare

And bide one winter's space! then I with this host- Cæd.

1:6 l. c: 8.

hæl eth helm on heaf od aset te: and thonje full heard e geband] Hero's-helm on head he set, and it full hard y-bound. Cad.

2:5. c: 5.

Warliath inc | with thone wæstm]: ne wyrth | inc wil na gæd] both ware of that fruit, ne let it goad your lust. Cad.

Be

ye

21:21.c:57.

Lag on the oth|re fynd | on tham fyre: the ær | swa fealla hæf don
Gewinnes with heora waldend.

Lay the other fiends in fire, that erewhile had so fele

Strife with their Ruler.

Cad.

21:51. c: 5 l.

Næron metode

:

Thagyta wid lond ne weglas nyt te ac stod | bewriglen fæste
Folde mid flode.

Nor had the Maker

As yet wide land, nor pathways useful; but fast beset
With flood earth stood.

Cæd.

57:17. c: 5 l.

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Tha spræcse of er mod a cyning: the ær | wæs eng la scyn ost..
Then spake the haughty king, that erewhile was of angels sheenest.
5:51. c: 47.

Se feond mid his | gefer um eal lum: feal lon tha u fon of heof num
The fiend with all his feres fell then on high from heaven.

The last verse, approaches very nearly to the favourite rhythm of Chapman; of which we have no less than five examples in the first six lines of his Iliad.

5: 1. c. 5.

Achilles bane ful wrath | resound]: O Goddess! that | imposed
Infinite sorrows on the Greeks and many brave souls los'd
From breasts herolique, sent

cavel

:

them farre] to that | invisible

That no light comforts, and their lims: to dogs | and vultures

gave.

To all which Jove's will gave | effect from whom | strife

first begunne

Betwixt | Atridles, king of men and The|tis' god like sonne].

Iliad, 1.

The same verse is also common in the translations of Phaer and Golding. Like Chapman also, these poets frequently begin the first section abruptly, and sometimes

even the second; but they never allow themselves the liberty, which the latter so often takes, of opening a verse with the section 5: 2. c.

5:2. c: 5.

This grace desir'd

Vouchsafe to me! paines | for my teares let these | rude

Greekes | repay

Forc'd with thy arrowes.

him pray.

Thus he pray'd, and Phoebus heard

:

And vext | at heart | down | from the tops of steepe | heaven

stoopt; his bow

And quiver cover'd round his hands did on his shoulders throw

And of the angrie deitye, the arrowes as he mov'd

Ratl'd about him

5:2.c:2

Iliad, 1.

Jove's and Latona's sonne, who fired against the king of men
For contumelie shown his priest, infectious sicknesse sent
To plague the armie; and to death, by troopes the soldier went
Occasion'd thus; Chryses the priest came to the fleete | to

buy

For presents of unvalu'd price his daughter's libertie, &c.

52 l. c: 1.

Iliad, 1.

Thus Xan thus spake ; ablest Achilles now at least | our

care

:

Shall bring thee off; but not farre hence the fatal moments are Of thy grave ruine.

Iliad.

This kind of verse is sometimes used in Layamon, but more rarely than might have been expected. Robert of Gloucester has made it the great staple of his Chronicle. He uses a very loose rhythm, one of his sections approaching to the triple measure, while the other not unfrequently belongs to the strictest law of the common measure. 2:5. c: 8,

Engelond ys a wel | god land: ich wenle of eche land best
Yset in the end of the world.
Rob. Glouc. p. J.

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