[187] While it is undisputed that the ottava rima is a native Italian stanza, its origin has never been satisfactorily determined. That it was a common measure before the time of Boccaccio is easily demonstrable; but it is equally probable that he, in his Teseide, was the earliest writer to employ it consciously for literary purposes. With him it assumed the form which it was to preserve for centuries: eight endecasyllabic lines, rhyming abababcc. In Pulci’s Morgante Maggiore it became freer and less dignified, without losing any of its essential characteristics. Pulci made ottava rima the standard measure for the Italian romantic epic and burlesque, and it was used by men differing so greatly in nature and motive as Boiardo, Berni, Tasso, Marino, Tassoni, Forteguerri, and Casti. To the Italian language, rich in double and triple rhymes, it is especially well suited; and its elasticity is proved by its effective employment in both the lofty epic of Tasso and the vulgar verse of Casti.
In English the borrowed ottava rima has had strange vicissitudes. Transferred to our literature, along with other Italian metrical forms, by Wyatt and Surrey, it was managed by them crudely, but still with some success. At least nineteen short poems by Wyatt are in this stanza. A typical illustration of its state at this period may be examined in Surrey’s To His Mistresse. In Elizabethan days the octave had a sporadic popularity. Although Spenser made choice of his own invented stanza for his Faerie Queen, he tried ottava rima in Virgil’s Gnat. Daniel in The Civille Warres and Drayton in The Barrons’ Warres associated it with tedium and dulness. It was, of course, natural that Fairfax, in his fine version of Tasso, should adopt the stanza of his original; and Harington translated Ariosto in the same measure, giving it, probably for the first time in English, a little of the burlesque tone which was typical of the Italians. Milton, in the epilogue to Lycidas, used the octave with reserved stateliness; while Gay, in Mr. Pope’s Welcome from Greece, made it a vehicle for quiet merriment.
During the eighteenth century the predominance of the heroic couplet hindered the spread of exotic verse forms—and the octave was still exotic. In 1812, William Tennant (1786–1846), an obscure Scotch schoolmaster, revived it in his burlesque epic, Anster Fair, modifying the structure by changing the last line to an alexandrine. Then came Merivale, Byron, Rose, Procter, and Keats, who settled the measure as a standard form in modern English literature.
[188] For a detailed comparison of the versification of Beppo with that of The Monks, and the Giants, see Eichler’s Frere, 170–184.
[189] The Monks, and the Giants, Introduction, 1.
[190] The Monks, and the Giants I., 9.
[191] Dr. Eichler has neglected to notice the important fact that at the time of the composition of Beppo, Byron could have been familiar with only the first two cantos of The Monks, and the Giants. A brief comparison of dates will establish this point. Cantos I. and II. of Frere’s poem were published in 1817; Beppo, written in the autumn of 1817 (Letters, iv., 172), was sent to Murray on January 19, 1818 (Letters, iv., 193), and given out for sale on February 28 of the same year. Not until later in 1818 were the last two cantos of Frere’s work printed, and the full edition of four cantos came out some months later. On July 17, 1818, Byron wrote Murray, “I shall be glad of Whistlecraft,” referring doubtless to the newly issued complete edition of The Monks, and the Giants.
[192] Only 36 of the 99 stanzas in Beppo are devoted entirely to the plot. The greater portion of the poem is occupied with digressions upon many subjects, containing some personal satire, some comment on political and literary topics, and much discursive chat upon social life and morals. The plot serves only as a frame for the satire.
[193] See Memoir of Frere, i., 166.
[194] Letters, iv., 193.