Poetic diction: A study of eighteenth century verseQuayle, Thomas
History
Poetic diction: A study of eighteenth century verse
Quayle, Thomas
English language -- Diction; English poetry -- 18th century -- History and criticism
Though the archaisms are sometimes scattered in a haphazard manner, they
are not used with such mechanical monotony as is obvious in the bulk
of the Spenserian imitations. In both cantos there are long stretches
without a single real or pseudo-archaism, and indeed, when Thomson is
indulging in one of the moral or the didactic surveys characteristic
of his age, as, for instance, when the bard, invoked by Sir Industry,
breaks into a long tirade on the Supreme Perfection (Canto II, 47-61)
his diction is the plain and unadorned idiom perfected by Pope.[144] Yet
Thompson occasionally yields to the fascination of the spurious form in
_-en_,[145] as
But these I _passen_ by with nameless numbers moe
(Canto I., 56)
or
And taunts he _casten_ forth most bitterly.
(Canto II, 78)
Sometimes it would seem that his archaisms owe their appearance to the
necessities of rhyme, as in
So worked the wizard wintry storms to swell
As heaven and earth they would together _mell_
(Canto I, 43)
and
Or the brown fruit with which the woodlands teem:
The same to him glad summer, or the winter _breme_.
(Canto II, 7)
There are lines too where we feel that the archaisms have been dragged
in; for example,
As _soot_ this man could sing as morning lark
(Canto I, 57)
(though there is here perhaps the added charm of a Chaucerian
reminiscence); or
_replevy_ cannot be
From the strong, iron grasp of vengeful destiny.
(Canto II, 32)
But, on the whole, he has been successful in his efforts, half-hearted
as they sometimes seem, to give an old-world atmosphere to his poem by
a sprinkling of archaisms, and it is then that we feel in _The Castle
of Indolence_ something at least of the beauty and charm of “the poet’s
poet,” as in the well-known stanza describing the valley of Idlesse with
its
waters sheen
That, as they bickered[146] through the sunny glade,
Though restless still, themselves a lulling murmur made.
(Canto I, 3)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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