Prosody
All you that bards of note would be,
Must study well your Prosody.
As Comparative Anatomy teaches what the sound of a cod-fish is; so Prosody teaches what is the sound of syllables.
Sound and quantity mean the same thing; though how that fact is to be reconciled with the proverb, “great cry and little wool,” we do not know.
Prosody is divided into three parts. Tone, Breathing, and Time. As to tone—boys are usually required to repeat it in a loud one, without stammering or drawling; and with as little breathing and time, or breathing-time, as possible.
We shall leave tone to the consideration of pianoforte and fiddle-makers; and breathing to doctors and chemists, who can analyze it a great deal better than we can. In this place we think proper to treat only of Time.
Now of Time a very great deal may be said, taking the word in all the senses in which it is capable of being used.
In the first place, Time flies—but this we have had occasion to observe before; as also that Time is a very great eater.
In the second, Time is a very ill-used personage; he is spent, wasted, lost, kicked down, and killed—the last as often as an Irishman is—but for all that he never complains.
It is a question whether keeping Time, or losing Time, is the essential characteristic of dancing.
Then we might expatiate largely about the value of Time, and of the propriety of taking him by the forelock—but for two reasons.
One of them is, that all this has been said long ago; the other, that it is nothing at all to the purpose.
We might also quote extensively from Dr. Culpeper’s Herbal, and from Linnæus and Jussieu; but the time we speak of, (although we hope it will be twigged by the reader,) is no plant; nevertheless it is a necessary ingredient in grammatical stuffing.
Time in prosody is the measure of the pronouncing of a syllable.
Like whist, it is divided into Long and Short. A long time is marked thus, as sūmēns, taking: a short time thus; as pĭlŭlă, a pill.
A foot is the placing together of two or more syllables, according to the certain observation of their time, the organ of which should be well developed for that purpose.
Ordinary feet are long feet, short feet, broad feet, splay feet, club feet, and bumble feet, to which may be added cloven feet in the case of certain animals, and an “old gentleman.”
There are several kinds of Latin feet; here, however, we shall only notice spondees and dactyls.
A spondee is a foot of two syllables, as īnfāns, an infant.
A dactyl is a foot of three syllables, as āngĕlŭs, an angel, pōrcŭlŭs, a little pig.
Scanning is measuring a verse as you are measured by your tailor—by the foot, according to rule. To scanning there belong the figures called Synalœpha, Ecthlipsis, Synæresis, Diæresis, and Cæsura.
Synalœpha is the cutting off a vowel at the end of a word, before another at the beginning of the next; as
Ōcclūsīs ēvāsi ŏcŭlīs nāsōquĕ cruēntō:
I came off with my eyes bunged up and a bloody nose.
We have here knocked out an i in evasi, on the strength of a synalœpha.
But heu and o are never cut off—at least there are no cases on record in which this operation has been performed.
Ecthlipsis is as often as the letter m is cut off with its vowel; the next word beginning with a vowel, as
Mōnstrum hōrrēndum īnfōrme īngēns—spectāvĭmŭs hōrtīs:
We saw a horrible, ugly, great monster in the gardens.
If every bear and boar were kept in a den—what a fine world this would be.
Synæresis is the contraction of two syllables into one, as in alvearia, pronounced alvaria.
Strāvĭt hŭmī dēmēns cōnfērta ālveārĭă Jūnō:
Mad Juno threw the crowded beehives on the ground.
Hydrophobia occurring in a queen bee from the bite of a dog would be an interesting case to the faculty.
Diæresis is the separation of one syllable into two, as evoluisse for evolvisse. Thus Ovid says, alluding probably to the padding system adopted by dandies and theatrical artists,
Dēbŭĕrant fūsōs ēvŏlŭīssĕ sŭōs:
They ought to have unwound their spindles.
Cæsura is when after a perfect foot (though not one like Taglioni’s), a short syllable is made long at the end of a word, as
Pēctŏrĭbūs ĭnhĭāns—mōllēs, ēn, dēsĕrĭt ālās:
Intent upon the breasts (of the fowls) lo! he deserts the tender wings.
Of the Kinds of Verses
Should any one seek here for an account of every kind of verse used by the Latin poets, all we can say is—we wish he may get it. As it behoveth no one to be wiser than the law, so it behoveth not us to be wiser than the Eton Grammar.
The verses which boys are commonly taught to make are hexameters and pentameters.
An hexameter verse consists of six feet. As the ancient heroes were at least six feet high, this is probably the reason why it is also called an heroic verse.
The fifth foot in this kind of verse should be a dactyl, the sixth a spondee; the other feet may be either dactyls or spondees; as
Ōbstāntī plŭvĭīs vēnīt cūm tēgmĭnĕ Sāmbō:
Sambo came with his Macintosh.
The fifth foot also is sometimes a spondee, as
Clāvĭgĕr Ālcīdēs, māgnūm Jŏvĭs īncrēmēntūm.
Hercules, king of clubs, great offspring of Jupiter.
The last syllable of every verse is a common affair.
An elegiac, lack-a-daisical, or pentameter verse, consists of four feet and two long syllables, one of which is placed between the second and third foot, and the other at the end of the verse. The two first feet may be dactyls, spondees, or both; the two last are always dactyls, as
Rēs ēst īnfēlīx, plēnăquĕ frāudĭs ămōr:
Love is an unlucky affair, and full of humbug.
We feel compelled, notwithstanding what has been before said, to make a few additions to what is contained in the Eton Grammar with respect to verses.
The rhythm of Latin verses may be easily learned by practising (out of school), exercises on the principle of the examples following—
Dūm dĭdlĕ, dī dūm, dūm dūm, dēedlĕdy, dēēdlĕ dĕ, dūm dum;
Dūm dĭdlĕ, dūm dum, dē, dēedlĕdy̆, dēedlĕdy̆, dūm.
N.B. The following familiar piece of poetry would not have been admitted into the Comic Latin Grammar, but that there being many various readings of it, we wished to transmit the right one to posterity.
Patres conscripti—took a boat and went to Philippi.
Trumpeter unus erat qui coatum scarlet habebat,
Stormum surgebat, et boatum overset–ebat,
Omnes drownerunt, quia swimaway non potuerunt,
Excipe John Periwig tied up to the tail of a dead pig.
Here, also, this poetical curiosity may perhaps be properly introduced.
Conturbabantur Constantinopolitani,
Innumerabilibus sollicitudinibus.
Of the Quantity of the First Syllable
There is a river in Macedon and a river in Monmouth: in like manner there are positions in dancing and positions in Prosody.
The following vowels are long by position.
1. A vowel before two consonants, or before a double consonant in the same word—as pīnguis, fat, īngens, great, Ājax, the name of a hero.
2. A vowel coming before one consonant at the end of a word, and another at the beginning of the next, as
Majōr sūm quām cui possīt tua virga nocere:
I’m a bigger boy than your rod is able to hurt.
The syllables jor, sum, quam, and sit, are long by position.
3. Sometimes, but seldom, a short vowel at the end of a word placed before two consonants at the beginning of the next; as
Occultā spolia hi Croceo de Colle ferebant:
These persons brought the secret spoils from Saffron Hill.
A short vowel before a mute, a liquid following, is rendered common, as in the word patris.
Sunt quibus ornatur Jenkins femoralia pātris:
The breeches that Jenkins is rigged out in are his father’s.
A vowel before another is always short, as tŭa, thy, memorĭa, memory.
Except the genitive cases of pronouns in ius, where the i is a common i, although alterĭus has always a short i and alīus a long i.
Except, likewise, those genitive and dative cases of the fifth declension where the vowel e, like Punch’s nose, is made long between two i’s, as faciēi, of a face.
The syllable fi also in fīo is long, except e and r follow together, as fĭerem, fĭeri.
Fīent quæ “Fĭeri Facias” mandata vocantur:
The writ which is called “Fieri Facias” will be made.
Fi. fa. is a legal instrument that deprives a poor man of his mattress that a rich one may lounge on his ottoman. Ca. Sa. is a similar benevolent contrivance for punishing misfortune as felony.
Dīus, heavenly, has the first syllable long;—Diana, common: and so has the interjection Ohe!
Thus there’s a common medium of connexion,
Between a goddess and an interjection.
A vowel before another in Greek words is sometimes long, as
Cærula, Pīerides, sunt vobis tegmina crurum:
Oh, Muses, your stockings are blue.
Also in Greek possessives, as
Somniculosa fuit, pinguisque Ænēia nutrix:
Æneas’s nurse was sleepy and fat.
Æneas has often enough been represented in arms.
In Latin mark, that every dipthong
’S as long as any stage-coach whip-thong;
Except before a vowel it goes,
When ’tis as short as Elsler’s clothes.
Words derived from others are tarred with the same stick, that is, are assigned the same quantity as those which they are derived from, with some few exceptions, which we must trouble the student to fish for.
Compounds follow the quantity of their simple words, as from lĕgo lĕgis, to read, comes perlĕgo, to read through.
By the way, reading does not always induce reading through; though we hope it may in the case of the C. L. G.
If to a preterperfect tense belong
Two only syllables, the first is long;
As vēni, vīdi, vīci, speech so cool.
Which Cæsar made to illustrate our rule;
To which we need not cite exceptions small.
Look in your Gradus and you’ll find them all.
Consult also the Eton Grammar, and works of the poets, passim, as well for exceptions to the above as to the two following rules:
1. Words that double the first syllable of the preterperfect tense have the first syllable short—as cĕcĭdī from cădŏ, &c.
Fortis Higinbottom cĕcidit terramque mŏmordit:
Brave Higinbottom fell and bit the ground.
2. A supine of two syllables has the first syllable long—
As vīsum lātum lōtum mōtum:
And many more if we could quote ’em.
Of the Quantity of the Last Syllable
We have had a poetical fit gradually growing upon us for some time—’tis of no use to resist—so here goes—
Oh! Muse, thine aid afford to me,
Inspire my Ideality;
Thou who, benign, in days of yore,
Didst heavenly inspiration pour
On him, who luckily for us
Sang Propria Quæ Maribus;
Teach me to sound on quiv’ring lyre,
Prosodial strains in notes of fire;
Words’ ends shall be my theme sublime,
Now first descanted on in rhyme.
Come, little boys, attention lend,
All words are long in a that end:
(In proof of which I’ll bet a quart,)
Excepting those which must be short—
As pută, ită, posteă, quiă,
Ejă, and every case in iă;
Or a, save such as we must class
With Grecian vocatives in as,
And ablatives of first declension—
Besides the aforesaid, we may mention
Nouns numeral that end in ginta,
Which common, as a bit of flint are.
Some terminate in b, d, t;
All these are short; but those in c
Form toes—I mean, form ends of feet
As long—as long as Oxford Street.
Though nĕc and donĕc every bard
Hath written short as Hanway yard,
Fac, hic, and hoc are common, though
Th’ ablative hōc is long you know.
Now “e finita” short are reckon’d,
Like to a jiffey or a second,
Though we must call the Gradus wrong,
Or these, of fifth declension, long.
As also particles that come
In mode derivative therefrom.
Long second persons singular
Of second conjugation are,
And monosyllables in e.
Take, for example, mē, tē, sē,
Then, too, adverbial adjectives
Are long as rich old women’s lives—
If from the second declination
Of adjectives they’ve derivation:
Pulchrē and doctē, are the kind
Of adverbs that I have in mind.
Fermē is long, and ferē also—
Benĕ, and malĕ, not at all so.
Lastly, each final eta Greek,
Is long on all days of the week—
To wit—(for thus we render nempe)
Lethē, Anchisē, cetē, Tempē.
Those words as long we classify
Which end, like egotists, in i,
Rememb’ring mihi, tibi, sibi
Are common, so are ubi, ibi;
Nisĭ is always short, and quasĭ’s
Short also, so are certain cases
In i—Greek vocatives and datives
(At least if we may trust the natives;)
Making their genitives in os,
For instance—Phyllis, Phyllidos.
(A name oft utter’d with a sigh,)
Whereof the dative ends in ĭ.
Words in l ending short are all,
Save nīl for nihil, sāl, and sōl,
And some few Hebrew words t’were well
To cite; as Michaēl, Raphaēl.
Your n’s are long, save forsităn
Ĭn, tamĕn, attamĕn, and ăn
Veruntamĕn and forsăn, which
Are short as any tailor’s stitch;
These, therefore, we except, and then
Contractions “per apocopen”—
As vidĕn’? mĕn’? and audĭn?—so in
Exĭn’ and subĭn’, deĭn’, proĭn’.
An, from a nominative in a
Ending a word is short, they say,
But every an for long must pass
Derived from nominative in as.
Nouns, too, in en are short whose finis
Doth in the genitive make inis.
And so are n’s that do delight ĭn
An i and y—Alexĭn, Ity̆n.
Greek words are short I’d have you know,
That end in on with little o,
Common are terminating o’s,
Cases oblique except from those,
Adverbial adjectives as falsō
Are long,—take tantō,—quantō also;
Save mutuo, sedulo, and crebro.
Common as vestment vending Hebrew.
Modŏ and quomodŏ among
Short o’s we rank—nor to be long.
Nor citŏ, egŏ, duŏ; no nor
Ambŏ and Homŏ ever prone are;
But monosyllables in o,
Are counted long. Example—stō.
And omega, the whole world over,
’S as long as ’tis from here to Dover.
If r should chance a word to wind up,
’Tis short in general, make your mind up;
But fār, lār, nār, and vīr, and fūr
Pār, compār, impār, dispār, cūr,
As long must needs be cited here,
With words from Greek that end in er;
Though ’mong the Latins from this fate are These two exempted—patĕr, matĕr;
Short in the final er we state ’em,
Namely, “auctoritate vatum.”
Now, s, the Eton Grammar says,
Ends words in just as many ways
As there are vowels—five—as thus
In order, as, es, is, os, us.
As, in a general way appears
Long unto all but asses’ ears,
But some Greek words take care to mark as
Short,—for example—Pallăs, Arcăs—
And nouns increasing plural sport
An as accusative that’s short.
Es in the main’s a long affair,
Anchisēs, such, and patrēs are,
Though of the third declension you
As short such substantives must view,
The genitives of which increase,
Derived from nominatives in es,
And have an accent short upon
The syllable that’s last but one.
As milĕs, segĕs, divĕs, (which
Means what a Poet is n’t,)—rich:
But pēs is long, with bipēs, tripēs,
Like to a hermit munching dry pease.
To these add Cerēs, Saturn’s cub,
(Name of a goddess, and for grub
The figure Metonymy through,)
And ariēs, abiēs, pariēs, too.
Sum with its compounds forming ĕs,
Are short, join penĕs, if you please,
Item Cyclopĕs Naiadĕs.
Greek nominatives and plural neuters,
For lists of which consult your tutors.
Is, we call short, as Parĭs, tristĭs,
Save all such words as mensīs, istīs.
Plurals oblique that end in is,
Adding thereto for quibus quīs.
The is in Samnīs long by right is Because its genitive’s Samnītis,
Where you observe a lengthened state
Of syllable penultimate.
The same to all such words applies,
And īs contracted, meaning eis,
Long too,—and pray remember this
Are monosyllables in is.
Save ĭs the nominative pronoun,
And quĭs, and bĭs, which last is no noun.
When verbs by is concluded are,
In second person singular;
But in the plural itis make,
The is is long, and no mistake—
Provided always that the pe-
Nultimate plural long shall be.
Os, saving compŏs, impŏs, ŏs
Is long—as honōs dominōs.
The Greek omicron ’s short, and that in All conscience must be so in Latin.
Words should be short in us, unless
Authority has laid a stress
On the penultimate of any
Word that increases in the geni-
Tive case when us is long, the same
Pronunciation nouns may claim—
Declined like gradūs or like manūs
Though here exceptions still detain us.
The first case and the fifth are those
Singular; short as monkey’s nose.
Long are mūs, crūs, and thūs and sūs
All monosyllables in ūs,
And Grecian nouns by diphthong ous,
Translated us by men of nous.
Lastly, all words in u are long,
And so we end our classic song.
And not our song only, but our work—the companion of our solitude—the object of our cares—for which alone we live, for which we consumed our midnight oil; and not only that, but also burnt a great deal of daylight.—Our work, we say, is ended—and such as it is we commit it to the world. Horace says Carm. Lib. iii, Ode XXX. (an ode which by some strange association of ideas, is always connected in our mind with the visionary image of a jug of ale,) “Exegi monumentum ære perennius,” I have perfected a work more durable than brass. Whether our production is characterized by the durability of that metal or not, is a question which we leave to the decision of posterity; we cannot, however, help thinking that, considering the boldness of our attempt, it possesses figuratively at least, something in common with the substance in question—and we would fain hope that that something does not consist in hardness.
And now farewell to the reader—farewell, “a word that must be and hath been”—said a great many times when once would have been quite sufficient. We need not, therefore, repeat it; nor need we say how much we hope that we have amused, instructed him, and so forth; that being as much an understood thing to put at the end of a book, as “Love to papa, mamma, brothers and sisters,” in a holiday letter.
Nothing, then, remains for us now to do, but to kick up our hat and cry
“All Over.”
Finis