first, fourth, fifth and eighth lines rhyming, and the second, third, sixth and seventh. The sestet admits of more freedom, and might be as in the poem. (c) Being divided into two systems it is not permissible to have a rhymed couplet at the close, especially in the above case, where it is the climax of the poem. The points of similarity between this poem and a sonnet are (a) the number of lines, (b) the division into two systems, (c) the lines being decasyllabic, (d) the dignity and completeness of thought and definiteness of expression, (e) the ebb and flow of the thought. Although the rules of composition of the sonnet are numerous and stringent, it must be remembered that, as in grammar every rule has its exception, so is it with the rules of sonnets, not excepting the one of length, for the coda is admissible and not infrequently used by the Italian poets. In the "Vita Nuova,” Dante employs it in the beautiful sonnet beginning, "All ye that pass along Love's trodden way." new A third reason for the study of sonnet literature and a not unimportant one in this busy nineteenth century, is the shortness of the poem. This makes it possible in spare moments to carefully read one, and thereby gain thoughts and fresh intellectual stimulus, whereas longer compositions cannot be taken up in such limited time. For the same reasons they can very easily be committed to memory and are well adapted to be among the touchstones, which Matthew Arnold advises people to store in their memory, by which to test the poetic quality of what they read. is cut jewel, in which a single flaw is conspicuous, and where you have combined breadth of treatment, with smallness of compass. In the realm of painting one only-Turner-has achieved this task of representing immeasurable space on a few square inches of paper. [Andrew Lang has a charming sonnet, "Cameos," on this subject.] Again, more than any other form of poetry the sonnet has been the vehicle chosen by great minds to express the concentrated passion of their lives, and consequently some of the greatest masterpieces are cast in this form. Passion is apt to become diffuse and to lose its force when not confined within narrow bounds. At the close of his chequered life Michelangelo writes: Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul that turns to His great love on high, Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread. And he pours forth his repentance and faith in such sonnets as "A Prayer for Purification," and "On the Brink of Death." His sonnets go far to open our eyes to the sweetness of Michelangelo, which is as essential a quality of his work as his strength, although not so obvious. Take the case of another great painter: Rafael made a century of sonnets, Made and wrote them in a certain volume The variety of subjects treated quite inexhaustible, and there is some- Lean and list the bosom-beats of Rafael. thing to suit the varying moods of all. Art, literature, science, politics, war, peace, domestic life, public greatness, sorrow, joy, love, life, religion-all subjects alike find noble utterance in sonnets. Indeed the excellence obtained in so many directions is very marked. This branch of study is most admirable for the training of the ear, because it demands the utmost finish and perfection. The sonnet is like a finely Milton's sonnet on his blindness (to be quoted later) is perhaps the most pathetically beautiful thing he ever wrote. Blanco White immortalized himself by writing what Coleridge described as "the finest and most grandly conceived sonnet in our language," and apparently it was the only moment of poetic inspiration in his life. The sonnet is called TO NIGHT. Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, This glorious canopy of light and blue? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came, And lo! Creation widened in man's view. Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find, Whilst flow'r and leaf and insect stood revealed, That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind! Why do we, then, shun Death with anxious strife? If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life? Despite the opinion of one great modern poet, "with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart;" he never soared higher than when he wrote that marvellous warning against yielding to the sway of the senses; one feels the breath come quicker, as he flashes out the mad pursuit of pleasure, followed by swift disenchantment, ending with the bitter cry: All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the Heaven that leads men to this Hell. It is difficult to select a representative sonnet of Shakespeare's, but the following one is a fine example of his sweetness, and most of the critics seem to consider that the principal quality of his sonnets. I cannot help thinking, however, that Shakespeare, when he spoke of "deepbrained sonnettes," held a different opinion. The following one is a most exquisite description of sunrise, the sun afterwards being obscured by clouds, and Shakespeare compares it with the course of his friendship. Probably the allusion was to an estrangement caused by William Herbert's intimacy with "the dark lady" during Shakespeare's absence. He feels that friendship is too great a thing to be renounced, no matter how rudely it is assailed. Full many a glorious morning I have seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows. green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy: Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine, With all-triumphant splendor on his brow; But out! alack! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath masked him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the earth may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. The closing couplet is particularly fine. Shakespeare did not adhere to the Italian form; his sonnets usually work steadily up to a climax, with no appreciable break, instead of being divided into two systems. In Mr. Palgrave's edition they are divided up into three quatrains and a couplet, quite ignoring their construction. He has also very considerately invented fancy titles for them! Shakespeare sets aside the usual rule that there should not be more than two rhymes in the first eight lines, and also the order of the rhymes. Milton did not follow his example, but partially reverted to the Italian style, although maintaining a certain individuality of his own, such as making the break in the middle, instead of at the end of the eighth line, and aiming at one accumulating effect all through the sonnet. His sonnets are too little known, but the following is frequently quoted by some, who would be unable to state whence the quotation was drawn: ON HIS BLINDNESS. When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He, returning, chide. "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts. Who best Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state Of Venice did not fall below her birth, And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reached its final day: Is kingly. Thousands at His bidding Men are we, and must grieve when even speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve, who only stand and wait." Milton seems to have been familiar with Spenser's "Hymn to Heavenly Love," where the angels are said: Either with nimble wings to cut the skies, When He them on His messages doth send, Or to His own dread presence to attend. But these lines are far inferior in dignity and beauty to those of Milton. In reading his twenty-four sonnets we feel how each is the outcome of some special event or strong feeling, so that each almost might be the heading of a fresh chapter in his history. It would be impertinent to criticise such a poem, but the most casual student will not require attention called to the fact that it belongs to quite a different class of sonnets from Shakespeare's, different from Shakespeare's because so disconnected. the Shade Of that which once was great is passed away. Wordsworth's sonnets include his wordiness and prosiness-are almost very best work, as his worst faultsimpossible in this form of poetry. When we study the above it is surprising to see how much is condensed in fourteen lines. The brilliant suggestiveness of the octave, with its rich coloring, is in keeping with the history of Venice in her palmy days; then follows the lower-toned sestet, telling of decay, autumn following summer. According to Sharp's classification of sonnets, the last three quoted each belong to a different class; (1) the English, or Shakespearian, (2) the Miltonic (one with unbroken continuity), (3) the Petrarchan, or natural sonnet. I shall next quote one of Rossetti's translations from the "Vita Nuova,” "Tanto gentile e tanto onesta pare." The reason for choosing this one was not only on account of its great intrinsic beauty-and perhaps it is the most beau tiful sonnet Dante ever wrote-but also because it is such an admirable specimen of Rossetti's unrivalled gifts as a translator and as a master of sound. This poem has the warm, rich coloring of a Giorgione, and Rossetti carries you completely into the spirit of Italian poetry. Dante describes his lady, and we are at once conscious of the subtle charm that surrounds her. She is the counterpart of Chaucer's "verray parfit gentil knighte," and belongs to that class of beings who lived in the age of chivalry, of whom in this prosaic age we can but form a dim conception. The picture is rendered still more complete by the sonnet which follows it, describing the effect of his lady's unconscious influence on other women. At the same time it is not at all a necessary sequel, as the previous sonnet is quite a rounded whole in itself. Some critics object to sonnets being in any way connected with one another, assigning as their reason that it is contrary to the law of sonnets, which demands that only one idea be expressed and that it should be complete in its development. The argument is plausible, still there seems no reason why complete poems should not be strung together like a chaplet of pearls, the beauty of each pearl being enhanced by its setting. Above all we must not forget that, with the exception of Milton, all the greatest sonneteers, both Italian and English, have set their sonnets in clusters: Dante (La Vita Nuova); Petrarch (Vita e Morte); Spenser (Amoretti); Sydney, Shakespeare, Rossetti (The House of Life); Wordsworth (The Duddon Sonnets); Mrs. Browning (Sonnets from the Portuguese); all these and others have written suites of sonnets. In the same way, in music, songs have been grouped together by the most eminent composers. Heine's poems, for instance, have been treated thus by Schubert and Schumann. In this connection it may be well to mention that the sonnet was originally set to music. To those who are familiar with Dante in the original there is an added charm in noting the marvellous fidelity of his sonnet as a translation. On comparison the words seem to be almost literally translated, yet when read, the melody of the poem and the sonorous ring of the lines make you oblivious of the fact. Truly Rossetti had a right to say, that "the life-blood of rhythmic translation is this commandment-that a good poem shall not be turned into a bad one." My lady looks so gentle and so pure When yielding salutation by the way, That the tongue trembles and has nought to say, And the eyes, which fain would see, may not endure. And still, amid the praise she hears secure, ray; Seeming a creature sent from heaven to stay On earth, and shew a miracle made sure. A sweetness, which needs proof to know And from between her lips there seems to move A soothing essence that is full of love, Rossetti adheres to the same form as Dante with regard to the number and order of rhymes, but does not give the double or triple rhyme, which charms the ear in Italian. It is too heavy when used in English in a short poem, though it gives a greater richness of sound 1 Compare with this two other fine translations of the same poem by T. W. Parsons and Keegan Paul. Despite their beauty, you cannot help feeling conscious that they are translations, while Rossetti's possesses the spontaneity of an original poem. "So gentle seems my lady and so pure She never heeds, when people praise her worth- And such a pleasure from her presence grows The sestet appears very superior to the octave, when used with judgment. For instance, I love thee with a love I seemed to lose in the original of the above poem the rhymes are, "onesta pare"-"guardare;" "vestuta"-"venuta;" "al core"-"d amore;" "I' amira"-"sospira," etc., but when you get so many double endings in an English sonnet you feel at once that it is a mistake. Perhaps the reason is that in English you are obliged to use a larger number of words and the sibillant sound is almost inevitable. A short quotation, taken from an otherwise beautiful sonnet by Mrs, Meynell, will illustrate my meaning: Your own fair youth, you care so little for it, Smiling towards heaven, you would not stay the advances Of time and change upon your happiest fancies, I keep your golden hour and will restore it. If ever, in time to come, you would explore it With my lost saints-I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears of all my life!-and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. While Mrs. Browning's poems have the same ring of intense passion that we see in Rossetti's, they are entirely free from what I may venture to call the "earthiness" of his; there is no need to fear the enervation of soul, which results from too frequent reading of "The House of Life." Hers have a subtledelicacy of touch, which is as beautiful as it is rare. There is an interesting passage on the sonnet in Moulton's book on the "Lit erary Study of the Bible," raising a question as to the primary characteristic of the sonnet. We are all aware that there is a very wide range of poetical literature within the covers of that one book, and very naturally we compare the Your old self, whose thoughts went like different forms to see what corresponds last year's pansies, Look unto me: no mirror keeps its glances; At the present time no one ranks higher seems to How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of For the ends of Being and Ideal Grace. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light with our own literary forms. Each onewill judge for himself whether he finds the sonnet there; the author says that, although unlike in the matter of numberof lines, "the true distinction of the Sonnet, like that of the Fugue in music, is that it reverses the usual order of tnings, and presents us with matter adapting itself to external form." The type is fixed, "not to one particular number of lines, but to the working out of a number form, indicated in the opening verses." The following quotation from the Apocrypha may be taken as an illustration: WHAT WISDOM LOVES AND HATES. In three things I was beautified, The concord of brethren, And a woman and her husband that walk But three sets of men my soul hateth, I love thee purely, as they turn from And I am greatly offended at their life: Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs and with my childhood's faith. A poor man that is haughty, A rich man that is a liar, And an old man that is an adulterer, inck ing understanding. |