(“Evening,” 37)
where the poetic and pictorial force of the epithet is perhaps at its maximum.[174]
Collins, however, has not contented himself with compounds already in the language; he has formed himself, apparently, almost half of the examples to be found in his poems. His instances of Types I, as of Types V and VI, are commonplace, and he has but few examples of Type II, the most noteworthy being “scene-full world” (“Manners,” 78), where the epithet, irregularly formed, seems to have the meaning of “abounding in scenery.” Most of his instances of Type III are either to be found in previous writers, or are obvious formations like “war-denouncing trumpets” (“Passions,” 43).
Much more originality is evident in his examples of Type IV, which is apparently a favourite method with him. He has “moss-crowned fountain” (“Oriental Ecl.,” II, 24), “sky-worn robes” (“Pity,” II), “sedge-crowned sisters” (“Ode on Thomson,” 30), “elf-shot arrows” (“Popular Superstitions,” 27), etc. Some instances here are, strictly speaking, irregular formations, for the participles, as in “sphere-descended,” are from intransitive verbs; in other instances the logical relation must be expressed by a preposition such, as “with” in “moss-crowned,” “sedge-crowned”; or “by” in “fancy-blest,” “elf-shot”; or “in” in “sphere-found,” “sky-worn.” He has some half-dozen examples of Type VII, three at least of which—“gay-motleyed pinks” (“Oriental Eclogues,” III, 17), “chaste-eyed Queen” (“Passions,” 75), and “fiery-tressed Dane” (“Liberty,” 97)—are apparently his own coinage, whilst others, such as “rosy-lipp’d health” (“Evening,” 50) and “young-eyed wit,” have been happily used in the service of the personifications that play so great a part in his Odes.
There is some evidence that the use of compounds by certain writers was already being noticed in the eighteenth century as something of an innovation in poetical language. Thus Goldsmith, it would seem, was under the impression that their increasing employment, even by Gray, was connected in some way with the revived study of the older poets, especially Spenser.[175] This supposition is unfounded. Gray, it is true, uses a large number of compounds, found in previous writers, but it is chiefly from Milton—e.g. “solemn-breathing airs” (“Progress of Poesy,” 14; cp. “Comus,” 555), “rosy-bosomed hours” (“Spring,” I), or from Pope—e.g. “cloud-topped head” (“Bard,” 34) that he borrows. Moreover, he has many compounds which presumably he made for himself. Of Type I he has such instances as “the seraph-wings of Ecstasy” (“Progress,” 96), “the sapphire-blaze” (ibid., 99), etc.; he has one original example of Type II in his “silver-bright Cynthia” (“Music,” 32), and two of Type III, when he speaks of the valley of Thames as a “silver-winding way” (“Eton Ode,” 10), and he finds a new epithet for the dawn in his beautiful phrase “the incense-breathing Morn” (Elegy XVII). Of Type IV, he has some half-dozen examples, only two of which, however, owe their first appearance to him—the irregularly formed “feather-cinctured chiefs” (“Progress,” 62) and “the dew-bespangled wing” (“Vicissitude,” 2). The largest number of Gray’s compound epithets belong to Type V, where an adjective is used adverbially with a participle: “rosy-crowned loves” (“Progress,” 28) and “deep-toned shell” (“Music,” 23). One of Gray’s examples of this class of compound, evidently formed on a model furnished by Thomson, came in for a good deal of censure. He speaks of “many-twinkling feet” (“Progress,” 35), and the compound, which indeed is somewhat difficult to defend, aroused disapproval in certain quarters. Lyttleton was one of the first to object to its use, and he communicated his disapproval to Walpole, who, however, at once took sides for the defence. “In answer to your objection,” he wrote,[176] “I will quote authority to which you will yield. As Greek as the expression is, it struck Mrs. Garrick; and she says that Mr. Gray is the only poet who ever understood dancing.” Later, the objection was revived in a general form by Dr. Johnson. “Gray,” he says,[177] “is too fond of words arbitrarily compounded. ‘Many-twinkling’ was formerly censured as not analogical: we may say ‘many-spotted’ but scarcely ‘many-spotting.’” The incident is not without its significance; from the strictly grammatical point of view the epithet is altogether irregular, unless the first element is admitted to be an adverb meaning “very much” or “many times.” But Gray’s fastidiousness of expression is a commonplace of criticism, and we may be sure that even when he uses compounds of this kind he has not forgotten his own clearly expressed views on the language fit and proper for poetry.
Johnson also objected to another device by which Gray had sought to enrich the vocabulary of poetry, as reflected in his use of the “participal” epithet in -ed.[178] If this device for forming new epithets cannot be grammatically justified, the practice of the best English poets at least has always been against Johnson’s dictum, and, as we have seen, it has been a prolific source of original and valuable compound epithets. Of this type Gray has some six or seven examples, the majority of which, however, had long been in the language, though in the new epithet of “the ivy-mantled tower” (Elegy IX) we may perhaps see an indication of the increasing Romantic sensibility towards old ruins.
Though not admitted to the same high rank of poets as Collins and Gray, two of their contemporaries, the brothers Warton, are at least of as great importance in the history of the Romantic revival.[179] From our present point of view it is not too fanciful to see a reflection of this fact in the compound epithets freely used by both of the Wartons. Thomas Warton is especially noteworthy; probably no other eighteenth century poet, with the exception of James Thomson, has so many instances of new compound formations, and these are all the more striking in that few of them are of the mechanical type, readily formed by means of a commonplace adjective or adverb. Instances of compound substantives (Type I) are almost entirely lacking, and the same may be said of the noun plus adjective epithets (Type II). There are, however, a few examples of Type III (noun plus present participle), some of which, as “beauty-blooming isle” (“Pleasures of Melancholy”), “twilight-loving bat” (ibid.), and “the woodbines elm-encircling spray” (“On a New Plantation”), no doubt owe something to the influence of Thomson. Instances of Type IV are plentiful, and here again there is a welcome freshness in Warton’s epithets: “Fancy’s fairy-circled shrine” (“Monody Written near Stratford-on-Avon”), “morning’s twilight-tinctured beam” (“The Hamlet”), “daisy-dappled dale” (“Sonnet on Bathing”). One instance of this class of compound epithet, “the furze-clad dale,” is certainly significant as indicative of the changes that were going on from the “classical” to the Romantic outlook towards natural scenery.[180]
Of the other class of compound epithets, Warton has only a few instances, but his odes gave plenty of scope for the use of the “participial epithet” (Type VII), and he has formed them freely: “Pale Cynthia’s silver-axled car” (“Pleasures of Melancholy”), “the coral-cinctured stole” (“Complaint of Cherwell”), “Sport, the yellow-tressed boy” (ibid.). No doubt many of Thomas Warton’s compound formations were the result of a conscious effort to find “high-sounding” terms, and they have sometimes an air of being merely rhetorical, as in such instances as “beauty-blooming,” “gladsome-glistering green,” “azure-arched,” “twilight-tinctured,” “coral-cinctured,” “cliff-encircled,” “daisy-dappled,” where alliterative effects have obviously been sought. Yet he deserves great credit for his attempts to find new words at a time when the stock epithets and phrases were still the common treasury of the majority of his contemporaries.
His brother, Joseph Warton, is less of a pioneer, but there is evident in his work also an effort to search out new epithets. His compounds include (Type II) “marble-mimic gods” (“The Enthusiast”); (Type III) “courage-breathing songs” (“Verses, 1750”), with many instances of Type IV, some commonplace, as “merchant-crowded towns” (“Ode to Health”), others more original, as “mirth and youth nodding lily-crowned heads” (“Ode to Fancy”), joy, “the rose-crowned, ever-smiling boy” (“Ode Against Despair”), “the beech-embowered cottage” (“On The Spring”). Moreover, there are a number in “The Enthusiast,” which reflect a genuine love of Nature (“thousand-coloured tulips,” “pine-topp’d precipice”) and a keen observation of its sights and sounds.