"His ephod, mitre, well-cut diadem on."—Cowley.
"My blushing hyacinth and my bays I keep."—Dryden.
Bysshe cuts down to "di'mond," "vi'let," "vi'lent," "di'dem," "hy'cinth," words which need no such debasing elision. As in music two short sharp beats are equivalent to one long one (two minims = one semi-breve) so in verse two brief vowels, or syllables even, are admissible—indeed, at times desirable for the sake of variety in lieu of one.
Among less questionable maxims of Bysshe's is one, "avoid a concourse of vowels," instanced by—
"Should thy Iambics swell into a book."
This means, it is to be presumed, "avoid a concourse of repetitions of one sound," a very necessary rule. Some poets are careful not to get the same vowel sound twice in any line. "Avoid ending a verse with an adjective whose substantive follows in the next line" is another sound precept, instanced by—
"Some lost their quiet rivals, some their kind
Parents."
The same rule applies to the separation of a preposition from the case which it governs, as exemplified in—
"The daily lessening of our life shows by