Here it will be observed that the Norman mode--that of rhymes--is employed, and that there is a far more careful measure in the line that is found in the poem last quoted. But the rhyming is carried to such an excess as to involve the necessity of constant invention of phrase to meet its requirements--a fertile source of obscurity. The most difficult form of stanza in respect of rhyme now in use is the Spenserian, in which, consisting of nine lines, four words rhyme together, three words, and two words. But the stanza in the poem before us consists of twelve lines, six of which, two of which, four of which, rhyme together. This we should count hard enough; but it does not nearly exhaust the tyranny of the problem the author has undertaken. I have already said that one of the essentials of the poetic form in Anglo-Saxon was the commencement of three or more words in the line with the same sound: this peculiarity he has exaggerated: every line has as many words as possible commencing with the same sound. In the first line, for instance,--and it must be remembered that the author's line is much shorter than the Anglo-Saxon line,--there are four words beginning with _p_; in the second, three beginning with _cl_, and so on. This, of course, necessitates much not merely of circumlocution, but of contrivance, involving endless obscurity. He has gone on to exaggerate the peculiarities of Norman verse as well; but I think it better not to run the risk of wearying my reader by pointing out more of his oddities. I will now betake myself to what is far more interesting as well as valuable. The poem sets forth the grief and consolation of a father who has lost his daughter. It is called _The Pearl_. Here is a literal rendering, line for line, into modern English words, not modern English speech, of the stanza which I have already given in its original form: Pearl pleasant to prince's pleasure, Most cleanly closed in gold so clear! Out of the Orient, I boldly say, I never proved her precious equal; So round, so beautiful in every point! So small, so smooth, her sides were! Wheresoever I judged gemmes gay I set her singly in singleness. Alas! I lost her in an arbour; Through the grass to the ground it from me went. I pine, sorely wounded by dangerous love Of that especial pearl without spot. The father calls himself a jeweller; the pearl is his daughter. He has lost the pearl in the grass; it has gone to the ground, and he cannot find it; that is, his daughter is dead and buried. Perhaps the most touching line is one in which he says to the grave: O moul, thou marrez a myry mele. (O mould, thou marrest a merry talk.)