5.

'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night
To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's,
That tell black tidings.

Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?
Clarence. O, I have passed a miserable night,

So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,

That, as I am a Christian faithful man,

I would not spend another such a night,

Though 't were to buy a world of happy days,

So full of dismal terror was the time!

Brak. What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. Clar. Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;

And, in my company, my brother Gloucester;

Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches: thence we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thousand fearful times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we paced along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Lord! Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea:

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had; and often did I strive

To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

Brak. Awaked you not with this sore agony? Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; O, then began the tempest to my soul,

Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?
And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair

Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud,

Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;

Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made the dream.

VI

THE TECHNIQUE OF VERSE; LITERARY

FORMS

A. Verse and Prose Form..

The difference between verse-form and prose-form may be

Normal English verse is measured in lines of definite length. The unit of measurement is the foot,--the equivalent of the bar in music. Each foot consists of a definite number of syllables, one (or more) of which bears the stress of the voice. The regular occurrence of this voice-stress or accent constitutes regular rhythm. Thus:

The curfew tolls the knell of part ing day

1st Foot 2nd Foot 3rd Foot 4th Foot 5th Foot

Here each foot consists of two syllables, of which the second is accented. It is an example of the simplest and commonest English metre and rhythm. The notes and definitions given below contain other examples more complicated and less obvious.

B. The Technique of Verse.

The following notes will be useful in any definite technical study of verse:

(i) GENERAL.

Metre the measure of verse in syllables and feet (see below). Rhythm explained and illustrated in the note above.

:

Foot: a unit of metre consisting, in English, of one, two, or three syllables according to the rhythm (cf. the bar in music). The simple two-syllabled foot is exemplified above; the other types of foot are shown in the examples of the various rhythms given below.

-meter: compounded with mono-, di-, tri-, tetra-, penta-, hexa- = lines consisting of one, two, three, four, five, and six feet respectively. Thus the line quoted in the note above is a pentameter.

:

Stanza a unit of verse, consisting of a definite number of lines to suit the general metrical scheme. Beware of confusing stanza and verse. A verse is strictly a line. (Cf. French vers< Lat. verto—'turn over'.)

(ii) RHYTHM.

Iambus: the two-syllabled foot with the stress on the second syllable xa (where x = unaccented and a = accented syllable).

:

Anapaest: the three-syllabled foot with the stress on the third syllable, xxa. A good example of prevailing anapaestic rhythm may be found on p. 104 (d).

(Note that the iambus and the anapaest make a 'rising' rhythm, whereas the rhythm of the trochee and the dactyl, illustrated below, is 'falling'.)

Trochee: the two-syllabled foot with the stress on the first syllable, ax.

Longfellow's Hiawatha is an excellent example of prevailing trochaic rhythm:

2968-4

X

X

First he | danced a | solemn | measure |

X

In and out among the | pine-trees, |

Through the | shadows | and the | sunshine, |

Dactyl (lit. 'a finger'-one long and two short joints): the three-syllabled foot with the stress on the first syllable,

axx.

It is rare in English as a prevailing rhythm. Hood's poem The Bridge of Sighs illustrates it:

It illustrates incidentally the 'rest' or pause common in English rhythm. Thus, the last foot of the second and fourth lines above is really a dactyl, the unaccented syllables being omitted. Spondee: the two-syllabled foot with stress on both syllables. We can see it ordinarily in some compound words like arm-chair. In verse it occurs infrequently, and never as a prevailing rhythm. Milton has it now and then in a line of monosyllables:

X

Rocks, caves, | lakes, féns, | bogs, dens, | and shades |

X

of death.

Caesura originally the definite 'cut' or break in a line ot quantitative verse, like Latin, or alliterative verse like Old English. In modern English verse it is the natural pause in the rhythm of most lines, particularly in pentameters and long metres generally. It is the variation of the caesura that produces true metrical subtlety, and is the secret of good blank verse. A passage from Shakespeare will illustrate :

Be thou familiar | but by no means vulgar.

Those friends thou hast | and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul | with hoops of steel;