The open vowel sounds, which are commonly but not very accurately termed long, are those which are the most easily protracted, yet they often occur in the shortest and feeblest syllables; while, on the other hand, no vowel sound, that occurs under the usual stress of accent or of emphasis, is either so short in its own nature, or is so "quickly joined to the succeeding letter," that the syllable is not one of long quantity.
Most monosyllables, in English, are variable in quantity, and may be made either long or short, as strong or weak sounds suit the sense and rhythm; but words of greater length are, for the most part, fixed, their accented syllables being always long, and a syllable immediately before or after the accent almost always short.
One of the most obvious distinctions in poetry, is that of rhyme and blank verse. Rhyme is a similarity of sound, combined with a difference: occurring usually between the last syllables of different lines, but sometimes at other intervals; and so ordered that the rhyming syllables begin differently and end alike. Blank verse is verse without rhyme.
The principal rhyming syllables are almost always long. Double rhyme adds one short syllable; triple rhyme, two. Such syllables are redundant in iambic and anapestic verses; in lines of any other sort, they are generally, if not always, included in the measure.
A Stanza is a combination of several verses, or lines, which, taken together, make a regular division of a poem. It is the common practice of good versifiers, to form all stanzas of the same poem after one model. The possible variety of stanzas is infinite; and the actual variety met with in print is far too great for detail.
OBSERVATIONS.
OBS. 1.—Verse, in the broadest acceptation of the term, is poetry, or metrical language, in general. This, to the eye, is usually distinguished from prose by the manner in which it is written and printed. For, in very many instances, if this were not the case, the reader would be puzzled to discern the difference. The division of poetry into its peculiar lines, is therefore not a mere accident. The word verse, from the Latin versus, literally signifies a turning. Each full line of metre is accordingly called a verse; because, when its measure is complete, the writer turns to place another under it. A verse, then, in the primary sense of the word with us, is, "A line consisting of a certain succession of sounds, and number of syllables."—Johnson, Walker, Todd, Bottes, and others. Or, according to Webster, it is, "A poetic line, consisting of a certain number of long and short syllables, disposed according to the rules of the species of poetry which the author intends to compose."—See American Dict., 8vo.
OBS. 2.—If to settle the theory of English verse on true and consistent principles, is as difficult a matter, as the manifold contrarieties of doctrine among our prosodists would indicate, there can be no great hope of any scheme entirely satisfactory to the intelligent examiner. The very elements of the subject are much perplexed by the incompatible dogmas of authors deemed skillful to elucidate it. It will scarcely be thought a hard matter to distinguish true verse from prose, yet is it not well agreed, wherein the difference consists: what the generality regard as the most essential elements or characteristics of the former, some respectable authors dismiss entirely from their definitions of both verse and versification. The existence of quantity in our language; the dependence of our rhythms on the division of syllables into long and short; the concurrence of our accent, (except in some rare and questionable instances,) with long quantity only; the constant effect of emphasis to lengthen quantity; the limitation of quantity to mere duration of sound; the doctrine that quantity pertains to all syllables as such, and not merely to vowel sounds; the recognition of the same general principles of syllabication in poetry as in prose; the supposition that accent pertains not to certain letters in particular, but to certain syllables as such; the limitation of accent to stress, or percussion, only; the conversion of short syllables into long, and long into short, by a change of accent; our frequent formation of long syllables with what are called short vowels; our more frequent formation of short syllables with what are called long or open vowels; the necessity of some order in the succession of feet or syllables to form a rhythm; the need of framing each line to correspond with some other line or lines in length; the propriety of always making each line susceptible of scansion by itself: all these points, so essential to a true explanation of the nature of English verse, though, for the most part, well maintained by some prosodists, are nevertheless denied by some, so that opposite opinions may be cited concerning them all. I would not suggest that all or any of these points are thereby made doubtful; for there may be opposite judgements in a dozen cases, and yet concurrence enough (if concurrence can do it) to establish them every one.
OBS. 3.—An ingenious poet and prosodist now living,[484] Edgar Allan Poe, (to whom I owe a word or two of reply,) in his "Notes upon English Verse," with great self-complacency, represents, that, "While much has been written upon the structure of the Greek and Latin rhythms, comparatively nothing has been done as regards the English;" that, "It may be said, indeed, we are without a treatise upon our own versification;" that "The very best" definition of versification[485] to be found in any of "our ordinary treatises on the topic," has "not a single point which does not involve an error;" that, "A leading deft in each of these treatises is the confining of the subject to mere versification, while metre, or rhythm, in general, is the real question at issue;" that, "Versification is not the art, but the act'—of making verses;" that, "A correspondence in the length of lines is by no means essential;" that "Harmony" produced "by the regular alternation of syllables differing in quantity," does not include "melody;" that "A regular alternation, as described, forms no part of the principle of metre:" that "There is no necessity of any regularity in the succession of feet;" that, "By consequence," he ventures to "dispute the essentiality of any alternation, regular or irregular, of syllables long and short:" that, "For anything more intelligible or more satisfactory than this definition [i. e., G. Brown's former definition of versification,] we shall look in vain in any published treatise upon the subject;" that, "So general and so total a failure can be referred only to some radical misconception;" that, "The word verse is derived (through versus from the Latin verto, I turn,) and * * * * it can be nothing but this derivation, which has led to the error of our writers upon prosody;" that, "It is this which has seduced them into regarding the line itself—the versus, or turning—as an essential, or principle of metre;" that, "Hence the term versification has been employed as sufficiently general, or inclusive, for treatises upon rhythm in general;" that, "Hence, also, [comes] the precise catalogue of a few varieties of English lines, when these varieties are, in fact, almost without limit;" that, "I," the aforesaid Edgar Allan Poe, "shall dismiss entirely, from the consideration of the principle of rhythm, the idea of versification, or the construction of verse;" that, "In so doing, we shall avoid a world of confusion;" that, "Verse is, indeed, an afterthought, or an embellishment, or an improvement, rather than an element of rhythm;" that, "This fact has induced the easy admission, into the realms of Poesy, of such works as the 'Télémaque' of Fenelon;" because, forsooth, "In the elaborate modulation of their sentences, THEY FULFIL THE IDEA OF METRE."—The Pioneer, a Literary and Critical Magazine (Boston, March, 1843,) Vol. I, p. 102 to 105.
OBS. 4.—"Holding these things in view," continues this sharp connoisseur, "the prosodist who rightly examines that which constitutes the external, or most immediately recognisable, form of Poetry, will commence with the definition of Rhythm. Now rhythm, from the Greek [Greek: arithmos], number, is a term which, in its present application, very nearly conveys its own idea. No more proper word could be employed to present the conception intended; for rhythm, in prosody, is, in its last analysis, identical with time in music. For this reason," says he, "I have used, throughout this article, as synonymous with rhythm, the word metre from [Greek: metron], measure. Either the one or the other may be defined as the arrangement of words into two or more consecutive, equal, pulsations of time. These pulsations are feet. Two feet, at least, are requisite to constitute a rhythm; just as, in mathematics, two units are necessary to form [a] number.[486] The syllables of which the foot consists, when the foot is not a syllable in itself, are subdivisions of the pulsations. No equality is demanded in these subdivisions. It is only required that, so far as regards two consecutive feet at least, the sum of the times of the syllables in one, shall be equal to the sum of the times of the syllables in the other. Beyond two pulsations there is no necessity for equality of time. All beyond is arbitrary or conventional. A third or fourth pulsation may embody half, or double, or any proportion of the time occupied in the two first. Rhythm being thus understood, the prosodist should proceed to define versification as the making of verses, and verse as the arbitrary or conventional isolation of rhythm into masses of greater or less extent."—Ib., p. 105.