The use of archaic and obsolete words in the eighteenth century was then chiefly an outcome of that revival of the past which was one of the characteristics of the new Romantic movement, and which was later to find its culmination in the works of Scott. The old words used by the eighteenth century imitators of Spenser were not often used, we may imagine, because poets saw in them poetical beauty and value; most often they were the result of a desire to catch, as it were, something of the “local colour” of the “Faerie Queene,” just as modern writers nowadays, poets and novelists alike, often draw upon local dialects for new means of expression. The Spenserian imitations recovered not a few words, such as meed, sheen, dight, glen,[158] which have since been regarded as belonging especially to the diction of poetry, and when the Romantic revival had burst into life the impulse, which had thus been unconsciously given, was continued by some of its great leaders. Scott, as is well known, was an enthusiastic lover of our older literature, especially the ballads, from which he gleaned many words full of a beauty and charm which won for them immediate admission into the language of poetry; at the same time he was able to find many similar words in the local dialects of the lowlands and the border. Perhaps in this work he had been inspired by his famous countryman, Robert Burns, who by his genius had raised his native language, with its stores of old and vivid words and expressions, to classical rank.[159]

Nevertheless it is undoubted that the main factor in the new Romantic attitude towards old words had been the eighteenth century imitations and collections of our older English literature. Coleridge, it is to be remembered, made free use of archaisms; in the “Ancient Mariner,” there are many obsolete forms: loon, eftsoons, uprist, gramercy, gossameres, corse, etc., besides those which appeared in the first edition, and were altered or omitted when the poem reappeared in 1800. Wordsworth, it is true, made no use of archaic diction, whether in the form of deliberate revivals, or by drafts on the dialects, which, following the great example of Burns, and in virtue of his own “theories,” he might have been expected to explore. Nevertheless the “theories” concerning poetical language which he propounded and maintained are not without their bearing on the present question. Reduced to their simplest terms, the manifestoes, while passing judgment on the conventional poetical diction, conceded to the poet the right of a style in keeping with his subject and inspiration, and Wordsworth’s successors for the most part, so far as style in the narrower sense of vocabulary is concerned, did not fail to reap the benefits of the emancipation won for them. And among the varied sources upon which they began to draw for fresh reserves of diction were the abundant stores of old words, full of colour and energy, to be gleaned from the pages of their great predecessors.

CHAPTER VI
COMPOUND EPITHETS IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POETRY

It is proposed in this chapter to examine in some detail the use of compound epithets in the poetry of the eighteenth century. For this purpose the following grammatical scheme of classification has been adopted from various sources:[160] First Type, noun plus noun; Second Type, noun plus adjective; Third Type, noun plus present participle; Fourth Type, noun plus past participle; Fifth Type, adjective, or adjective used adverbially, plus another part of speech, usually a participle; Sixth Type, true adverb plus a participle; Seventh Type, adjective plus noun plus -ed. Of these types it will be evident in many cases that the first (noun plus noun) and the sixth (true adverb plus participle) are not compounds at all, for the hyphen could often be removed without any change or loss of meaning. Occasionally the compounds will be regarded from the point of view of the logical relation between the two elements, when a formal classification may usually be made as follows: (a) Attributive, as in “anger-glow”; (b) Objective, as in “anger-kindling”; (c) Instrumental, as in “anger-boiling.” This scheme of classification permits of an examination of the compounds from the formal point of view, whilst at the same time it does not preclude an estimate of the æsthetic value of the new words thus added to the language of poetry.[161]

It may be said, to begin with, that the formation and use of compound epithets has always been one of the distinguishing marks of the special language of poetry in English, as distinct from that of prose. The very ease with which they can be formed out of the almost inexhaustible resources of the English vocabulary has been a constant source of temptation to poets with new things to say, or new impressions to describe. Moreover, the partial disappearance of inflections in modern English has permitted of a vagueness in the formation of compound words, which in itself is of value to the word-maker. Though, of course, it is possible in most cases accurately to analyse the logical relation between the elements of a compound, yet it sometimes happens, especially with the compound epithets of poetry, that this cannot be done with certainty, because the new formation may have been the result of a hasty but happy inspiration, with no regard to the regular rules of composition.[162] Hence, from one point of view, the free formation of compounds is a legitimate device allowed to the poets, of which the more severe atmosphere of prose is expected to take less advantage; from another point of view, the greater prevalence of the compound in poetry may not be unconnected with the rhythm of verse. Viewed in this light, the use of compound epithets in our poetry at any period may well have been conditioned, in part at least, by the metrical form in which that poetry received expression; and thus in the poetry of the eighteenth century it connects itself in some degree—first, with the supremacy of the heroic couplet, and later with the blank verse that proved to be the chief rival of the decasyllabic.

The freedom of construction which facilitates the formation of compounds had already in the earliest English period contributed to that special poetic diction which is a distinguishing mark of Anglo-Saxon verse, as indeed of all the old Germanic poetry; of the large number of words not used in Anglo-Saxon prose, very many are synonymous compounds meaning the same thing.[163] During the Middle English period, and especially before the triumph of the East Midland dialect definitely prepared the way for Modern English, it would seem that the language lost much of its old power of forming compounds, one explanation being that the large number of French words, which then came into the language, drove out many of the Old English compounds, whilst at the same time these in-comers, so easily acquired, tended to discourage the formation of new compounds.[164] It was not until the great outburst of literary activity in the second half of the sixteenth century that a fresh impetus was given to the formation of compound nouns and epithets. The large number of classical translations especially exercised an important influence in this respect: each new translation had its quota of fresh compounds, but Chapman’s “Homer” may be mentioned as especially noteworthy.[165] At the same time the plastic state of Elizabethan English led to the making of expressive new compounds of native growth, and from this period date some of the happiest compound epithets to be found in the language.[166] From the Elizabethans this gift of forming imaginative compounds was inherited, with even greater felicity by Milton, many of whose epithets, especially those of Type VII such as “grey-hooded even,” “coral-paven floor,” “flowery-kirtled Naiades” reveal him as a consummate master of word-craft.

With Dryden begins the period with which we are especially concerned, for it is generally agreed that from nearly every point of view the advent of what is called eighteenth century literature dates from the Restoration. During the forty years dominated by Dryden in practically every department of literature, the changes in the language, both of prose and poetry, which had been slowly evolving themselves, became apparent, and, as the sequel will show, this new ideal of style, with its passion for “correctness,” and its impatience of innovation, was not one likely to encourage or inspire the formation of expressive compounds; the happy audacities of the Elizabethans, of whose tribe it is customary to seal Milton, are no longer possible.

The compounds in the poems of Dryden show this; of his examples of Type I—the substantive compounds—the majority are merely the juxtaposition of two appositional nouns, as brother-angels (“Killigrew,” 4); or, more rarely, where the first element has a descriptive or adjectival force, as traitor-friend (“Palamon,” II, 568). Not much more imaginative power is reflected in Dryden’s compound epithets; his instances of Types III and IV include “cloud-dispelling winds” (“Ovid,” Met. I, 356), “sun-begotten tribe” (ibid., III, 462), with more original examples like “sleep-procuring wand.” Next comes a large number of instances of Types V and VI: “thick-spread forest” (“Palamon,” II, 123), “hoarse-resounding shore” (“Iliad” I, 54), as well as many compounded with long-, well-, high-, etc. Most of these examples of Types V and VI are scarcely compounds at all, for after such elements as “long,” “well,” “much,” the hyphen could in most cases be omitted without any loss of power. Of Dryden’s compound epithets it may be said in general that they reflect admirably his poetic theory and practice; they are never the product of a “fine frenzy.” At the same time not a few of them seem to have something of that genius for satirical expression with which he was amply endowed. Compounds like court-informer (“Absalom,” 719), “the rebels’ pension-purse” (ibid., Pt. II, 321),

Og, from a treason-tavern rolling home