And colours dipp'd in heaven; the third his feet And shook his plumes, that heav'nly fragrance fill'd The adumbration of particular and distinct images oy an exact and perceptible resemblance of sound, is sometimes studied, and sometimes casual. Every language has many words formed in imitation of the noises which they signify. Such are Stridor, Balo, and Beatus in Latin; and, in English, to growl, to buzz, to hiss, and to jar. Words of this kind give to a verse the proper similitude of sound without much labour of the writer; and such happiness is therefore rather to be attributed to fortune than skill: yet they are sometimes combined with great propriety, and undeniably contribute to enforce the impression of the idea. We hear the passing arrow in this line of Virgil.... Et fugit borrendum stridens elapsa sagitta; Th' impetuous arrow whizzes on the wing. POPE. and the creaking of hell-gates, in the description by Milton...... Open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th'infernal doors; and on their hinges grate But many beauties of this kind, which the moderns and perhaps the ancients, have observed, seem to be the produce of blind reverence acting upon fancy. Dionysius himself tells us, that the sound of Homer's verses sometimes exhibits the idea of corporeal bulk : is not this a discovery nearly approaching to that of the blind man, who after long enquiry into the nature of the scarlet colour,. found that it represented nothing so much as the clangour of a trumpet? The representative power of poetic harmony consists of sound and measure; of the force of the syllables singly considered, and of the time in which they are pronounced. Sound can resemble nothing but sound, and time can measure nothing but motion and duration. The critics, however, have struck out other similitudes; nor is there any irregularity of numbers which credulous admiration cannot discover to be eminently beautiful. Thus the propriety of each of these lines has been celebrated by writers whose opinion the world has reason to regard.... Vertitur interea coelum, et ruit oceano nox...... Meantime the rapid heav'ns rowl'd down the light, DRYDEN. Sternitur, exanimisque tremens procumbit humi bos.... Down drops the beast, nor needs a second wound; Parturiunt montes, nascitur ridiculus mus...... The mountains labour, and a mouse is born. DRYDEN. ROSCOMMON. If all these observations are just, there must be some remarkable conformity between the sudden succession of night to day, the fall of an ox under a blow, and the birth of a mouse from a mountain; since we are told of all these images, that they are very strongly impressed by the same form and termination of the verse. We may, however, without giving way to enthusiasm, admit that some beauties of this kind may be pro duced. A sudden stop at an unusual syllable may image the cessation of action, or the pause of discourse; and Milton has very happily imitated the repetitions of an echo; I fled, and cry'd out death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd The measure or time in pronouncing may be varied so as very strongly to represent, not only the modes of external motion, but the quick or slow succession of ideas, and consequently the passions of the mind. This, at least, was the power of the spondiac and dactylic harmony; but our language can reach no eminent diversities of sound. We can indeed sometimes, by incumbering and retarding the line, show the difficulty of a progress made by strong efforts and with frequent interruptions, or mark a slow and heavy motion. Thus Milton has imaged the toil of Satan struggling through chaos.... So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on: with difficulty and labour he.... thus he has described the leviathans or whales..... Wallowing unwieldly, enormous in their gait: But he has at other times neglected such representations, as may be observed in the volubility and levity of these lines, which express an action tardy and reluctant.... When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear In another place he describes the gentle glibe of ebbing waters in a line remarkably rough and halting: Tripping ebb: that stole With soft foot tow'rds the deep, who now had stopp'd It is not indeed to be expected that the sound should always assist the meaning, but it ought never to counteract it: and therefore Milton has here certainly committed a fault like that of the player, who looked on the earth when he implored the heavens, and to the heavens when he addressed the earth. Those who are determined to find in Milton an assemblage of all the excellencies which have ennobled all other poets, will perhaps be offended that I do not celebrate his versification in higher terms; for there are readers who discover that in this passage..... So stretch'd out huge in length the arch fiend lay, a long form is described in a long line; but the truth is, that length of body is only mentioned in a slow line to which it has only the resemblance of time to space, of an hour to a maypole. The same turn of ingenuity might perform wonders upon the description of the ark: Then from the mountains hewing timber tall, Measur'd by cubit, length, breadth, and height. In these lines the poet apparently designs to fix the attention upon bulk; but this is effected by the enumeration, not by the measure, for what analogy can there be between modulations of sound and corporeal dimensions? Milton, indeed, seems only to have regarded this species of embellishment so far, as not to reject it when it came unsought; which would often happen to a mind so vigorous, employed upon a subject so various and extensive. He had, indeed, a great and nobler work to perform; a single sentiment of moral or religious truth, a single image of life or nature, would have been cheaply lost for a thousand echoes of the cadence to the sense; and he who had undertaken to vindicate the ways of God to man, might have been accused of neglecting his cause, had he lavished much of his attention upon syllables and sounds. No. XCV. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1751. A fugitive from heav'n and pray's, Of mad philosophy; but now Hoist sail, and back by voyage plow To that blest harbour which I left before. HOR. SIR, To the Rambler. FRANCIS. THERE are many diseases both of the body and mind, which it is far easier to prevent than cure, and therefore I hope you will think me employed in an office not useless either to learning or virtue, if I describe the symptoms of intellectual malady, which though at first it seizes only the passions, will, if not speedily remedied, infect the reason, and from blasting the blossoms of knowledge, proceed in time to canker the root. |