Onward she glides amid ripple and | spray
Over the waters a way and a | way!

Bright are the | visions of | youth ere they | part,
Passing a ❘ way like a dream of the heart.

Sea-king's | daughter from | over the | sea.
Alexandra !

Hervey.

Saxon and Norman and | Dane are we,
But all of us | Danes in our | welcome of | thee,
Alexandra !

Welcome her, thunders of | fort and of fleet!
Welcome her, thundering | cheer of the | street!
Welcome her, | all things ¦ youthful and | sweet!
Scatter the blossom | under her feet!

Tennyson.

Brightest and | best of the | sons of the morning,
Dawn on our | darkness and | lend us thine | aid;
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our | Infant Re | deemer is | laid.

Heber.

The following examples will be found to run more in the measure of Amphibrachs, though by regarding the first foot as an Iambus it would become Anapestic, while by beginning with a single syllable it becomes Dactylic. The general character of the rhythm as interpreted by a trained ear is the sole

test.

The Bourbön ! | the Bourbčn!

Săns country | ŏr hōme,
We'll follow the Bourbon
To plunder old Rome.

The dew of the mōrning
Sank chill on my brow.
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.

Byron.

Thy vows are | all broken,
And light is | thy fame,
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

Byron.

This is perhaps better scanned as follows:

The dew of thě | mōrning sănk | chill on mỹ | brōw,
It | felt like the | warning of | what I feel | now.

Macgregor, Macgregor, | remember | our foemen!
The morn rises broad from | the brow of | Ben Lomond;
The clans are impatient | and chide thy | delay.

Arise, let us bound to | Glenlyon | away.

Hogg.

In the extracts which follow, all of which are full of melody, the rhythm is so varied that it is difficult to pronounce with certainty which of the measures predominates.

Now silently poised o'er the war of the main,
Like the spirit of Charity brooding o'er pain;
Now gliding with pinion all silently furled,
Like an angel descending to comfort the world.
Gerald Griffin.

Mount Blanc is the monarch of mountains,
We crowned him long ago,

On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,

With a diadem of snow.

Around his waist are forests braced,

The av'lanche in his hand;

But ere it fall, that thundering ball
Must pause for my command.

L

Byron.

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin;
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sighed when at twilight repairing,
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.

I was a child, and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea;

Campbell.

But we loved with a love that was more than love,

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me.

Poe.

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

I arise and unbuild it again.

Shelley.

MIXED METRES.

WRITERS of verse are under no necessity to a slavish adherence to metrical rules. The muse may soar high with steady wing and stately swoop, or flutter about the lower grounds in fantastic mazes; but his movements must always be rhythmical and his utterances musical. Linguistic difficulties and the 'seductive chains of linked sweetness,' urge him to the adoption of every possible variety of measure that lends freedom to the movement, and relieves the monotony of regularity. We have already pointed out the addition or omission of short syllables, the interchange of feet of one kind for those of another. Now we have to illustrate, in addition to these variations, the mingling of long and short measures in elegant complexity, together with the fitful ring of rhymes, the combined effect of which often adds to the melody of the rhythm the richness of harmony.

Amongst the simpler of these combinations are the Iambic with Anapestic, Trochaic with Dactylic, in both of which the swing of the melody is uninterrupted, e.g:

My life is cold | and dark | and drear | y ;
It rains and the wind | is nev er weary.

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
of youth | fall thick | in the blast,

And the hopes

And the days

are dark | and drear | y.

Longfellow.

And Willy, my eldest born, is gone, you say, little Annie?
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man.
And Willy's wife has written—she never was overwise—
Never the wife for Willy-he wouldn't take my advice.

Tennyson.

"The Grandmother'

In the following, Iambic and Trochaic verses alternate regularly.

When the lamp is shattered,

The light in the dust lies dead;
When the cloud is scattered,

The rainbow's glory is shed;

When the lute is broken,

Sweet tones are remembered not;

When the lips have spoken,

Loved accents are soon forgot.

Shelley.

In L'Allegro and Il Penseroso the measures mingled irregularly.

Sometimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecs sound,
To many a youth and many a maid
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;

And young and old come forth to play
On a sunshine holiday,

Till the livelong daylight fail;

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale.

are

Milton.