Tom Hood

“ Little Red Riding Hood promised her mother She'd not stop on the road to do one or the other. "Such allurements I old enough now to withstand am, So I 'll carry the honey and cake to my grandam, And then you shall see how quick I can be. Good bye, dearest mother!" And off hurried she. The fields with buttercups are gold, The hedges white with may; The woodbine's trumpets manifold Are bright beside the way; The foxglove rears its lofty spire Where hang the purple bells; In shady quiet nooks retire The modest pimpernels; The poppy the green corn-fields decks, The meads are bright with cowslips. ”

“ So in order to hatch it, goes out with his axe, And makes an attempt at restoring his mind's tone By setting the edge of the blade to the grindstone. The poor little souls Sit down to their bowls, And eat up their pottage without any rolls. It's not a remarkably nourishing diet, But it eases the pangs Of hunger's sharp fangs, And the wolf in the stomach keeps partially quiet. But the mother's afraid It's far from well made, For the carrot's fine flavour and strength haven't stopt in it, And it's rather too salt—from the tears that have dropt in it. ”

“ It may be a means to the end, but it does not pretend to assure its attainment. Versification and Logic are to Poetry and Reason what a parapet is to a bridge: they do not convey you across, but prevent you from falling over. ”

“ The King has taken the highest place, Beside him the Queen in her diamonds and lace. Each fairy godmother Sits down by another, And my lord the Archbishop is just saying grace, When in comes a cook, with a very white face, Who cries, as he straight up the hall rushes nimbly, "Please your Majesty, somebody's fell down the chimbley! There's silence in the hall For half a minute, And not a word doth fall From those within it; When, lo!—No!—And yet it is so! The sound of a foot comes heavy and slow Up the staircase from down below ”

“ In the case, therefore, of song-writing generally—whether to known or unknown music—the purpose of the composition must ever be kept in mind. A song, if not satisfactorily fitted for vocal utterance, and intelligible on the hearing of a moment, neither deserves, nor will receive, popular appreciation and acceptance. Where true poetry is interfused, as in the productions of Burns and Moore, then, indeed, is mastership in the art of song-writing really shown. Of all classes of writers, the song-writer is perhaps the most truly an artist. ”

“ I 'm the wretchedest mortal that's under the sun. To bed I must creep— But awake I will keep, For what I've to do is to think, not to-sleep," Said Hop o' my Thumb, When his father said, "Mum!"- To his mother, intending that she should be dumb On the subject that late Had formed their debate- "I think you had better get breakfast at eight." The boy stole to bed, To turn o'er in his head The things which his father and mother had said, And discover, if possible, 'cute little chap! As well as he can, Some snug little plan To guard him and brothers against a mishap. ”

“ The English language stands placed, in the main, very differently: and happily does it do so, as far as force, impressiveness, and picturesque beauty are concerned. No doubt, we have many words founded on the Latin and its modern derivations; and these are far from unserviceable, inasmuch as they lend general harmony to our tongue, spoken and written. But our special strength of diction comes from the Anglo-Saxon; and fortunate is it, that that primitive form of speech still forms the chief constituent of the national language of Britain. ”

“ LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. BY the side of a wood A cottage once stood, Where a little girl dwelt, who wore a red hood. Her father of trees in the forest was cutter, And her mother sold poultry, milk, eggs, cream, and butter. The little red hood, It must be understood, Belonged to a mantle—as pretty and proper a cloak As e'er you set eyes on:—in short, a red opera cloak. But operas ne'er, that I am aware, Had been heard of by any one dwelling round there; Whereas every dame had a cloak bright as flame That she wore when out riding (which gave it its name.) ”

“ Still on Pussy speeds By pastures and meads, And the coachman still follows wherever he leads. "Your estates are enormous— Pray, Marquis, inform us, If I may inquire, Did they come from your sire? He must really have been a most terrible lord, Acquiring so much by the right of the sword. I'm pleased to perceive, With such riches to leave, He'd a son of such merit The wealth to inherit Of so mighty a conqueror and enemy-killer." "Yes," said the youth, "To tell you the truth, My late father had quite a renown as a miller." ”

“ In a word, poetical genius is a gift, but education and perseverance will make almost any man a versifier.
All, therefore, that this book aims to teach is vithe art of Versification. That art, like Logic, is "ars instrumentalis, dirigens mentem inter cognitionem rerum." As Logic does not supply you with arguments, but only defines the mode in which they are to be expressed or used, so Versification does not teach you how to write poetry, but how to construct verse. ”

“ The ten-syllabled line is the heroic one of the English language, and a noble one it is, rivalling the lofty hexameter of Greece and Rome, and casting utterly into the shade the dancing, frivolous epic measure of 171French poetry. The latter runs in this rhythmical fashion:—
"She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps." ”

“ The Princess smiled sweetly, As if to hint neatly,' Though she counted the father A conqueror rather, She fancied the son Had a victory won— In fact, she was sure—as the smile would infer— About one of his conquests, and that was of her! For she felt he was lord of her bosom completely. And now the fields and meads they leave; To right and left huge mountains rise, And seem—so much their heights deceive— With lofty crests to touch the skies. Pine forests clothe their sombre sides, Where dark ravines and gorges frown, And many a mountain torrent glides, Or bounds from ledge to ledge adown. ”

“ Yet it does not on that account claim any license in rhyme, for it lacks the gravity and importance of theme which may at times, in serious poetry, be pleaded as outweighing a faulty rhyme.
This style of writing needs skill in devising novel and startling turns of rhyme, rhythm, or construction, and can hardly be employed by those who do not possess some articulate wit or humour—that is to say, the power of expressing, not merely of appreciating, those qualities.
A defective rhyme is a fault in serious verse—it is a crime in comic. ”

“ She loiters on her way, nor recks How rapidly time now slips. She enters now a glade, Dappled with light and shade, Through which the path is to her grandam's made; And as she strolls along, Singing her careless song, She meets a grim grey wolf. She's not afraid, Because close by She hears her father ply His axe, and knows he'd to the rescue fly If Master Wolf should any treason try. ”

“ And though some ingenious persons formerly puzzled themselves in prescribing rules for the quantity of English syllables, and, in imitation of the Latins, composed verses by the measure of spondees, dactyls, &c., yet the success of their undertaking has fully evinced the vainness of their attempt, and given ground to suspect they had not thoroughly weighed what the genius of our language would bear, nor reflected that each tongue has its peculiar beauties, and that what is agreeable and natural to one, is very often disagreeable, nay, inconsistent with another. ”

“ Pshaw! why waste time In spinning rhyme, When one can easily contrive To picture it with words just five?- The usual "English labourer's cottage." There dwelt a goodwife, and her goodman, Who by profession was a woodman, But was so poor and so prolific (A family of seven's terrific To one whose trade is not first chop) , That oft when trees he'd limb and lop He wished—his lot did him appal so- That he could cut his own stick also. ”

“ So he sat up in bed, And there by the red And flickering light that around it was shed, By the glare of the log Saw the cat and the dog- She was poor as a rat;—he'd a waist like a frog, Or a greyhound—but due to the absence of prog, Not the presence of breed,- He resembled, indeed, He saw on her cheek a tear-drop glisten, So he hid himself under her chair to listen The nags that you see in a cab-driver's stud, Whose "points" are all owing to bone, not to blood. ”

“ It well merits a word, and chiefly because it is an art the most easy in seeming, and the most difficult in reality, in the entire range of literary composition. People might easily discern this truth, if they would but take note how few really great song-writers have ever flourished among men, at any time, or in any country. Without forgetting Ramsay, Hogg, and Cunningham, it may be justly asserted that Scotland has seen but one such bard, Robert Burns. Ireland has likewise produced but one, Thomas Moore. England has given birth to—not one song-writer of the same high order! ”

“ A study of the style of our best poets is the only means of learning what is allowable and what is not; it is impossible to explain it within the limits of this treatise. It may, however, be laid down, as a first principle, that no change in the order of words is admissible, if it gives rise to any doubt as to their real meaning:—for example, if you wish to say, "the dog bit the cat," although such an inversion of construction as putting the objective before, and the nominative after, the verb, is allowed in verse, it is scarcely advisable to adopt it, and say, "the cat bit the dog." ”

“ In the midst of the hop the question to pop He determined—and nought his intention should stop. How sweet are first love's tender words As on the ear they fall! More musical than song of birds- More sweet than whey, more soft than curds, So welcome to us all. And, ah! to Cinderella's ear, Who'd heard so little love, How were the Prince's accents dear, Which her fond heart could plainly hear All other sounds above! Her aunt's directions to her niece Young Cupid makes her shelve; When suddenly her joy must cease- The clock upon the mantelpiece Is on the stroke of twelve. One! ”

“ The Americanising of our language—which seems to me a less remote and no less undesirable possibility than "the Americanising of our institutions," about which we hear so much—can only be checked by some such educational system. Surely the deterioration of our language is not a minor matter, and when it can be removed by the encouragement of verse-writing at our schools, xistrictly and clearly taught, it seems astonishing that no effort has been made in that direction. ”

“ Past grooms as unawakened as sad sinners, Past screws of hunters sound as Derby winners, Past hounds as fast—no less— As the express, Through Bedfordshire into the land of Nod, The young Prince trod, And on through corridors and long arcades, Halls wrapt in sombre shades, And anterooms wherein had Echo slept So long, it scarce awakened as he stept Lightly and swiftly o'er The dusty floor, That sadly stood in need of being swept. ”

“ A line is composed of a certain number of feet, from two to almost any number short of ten or so—if indeed we may limit the number exactly, for there is nothing to prevent a man from writing a line of twenty feet if he have ingenuity enough to maintain the harmony and beat necessary to constitute verse. As a rule, we seldom meet with more than eight feet in a line. ”

“ What busy times for people of all stations! What scouring out of rooms With mops and brooms! What scouring to and fro of hurried grooms! No leisure, not the least, For man or beast, Because His Majesty had fixed a feast— Acres of eatables and seas of ale, A banquet that should make all others pale, E'en those of Heliogabalus, deceased— To celebrate the day his child was quite Beyond the malice of old Fairy Spite! ”

“ The stanzas employed in our poetry cannot consist of less than three, and are seldom of more than twelve verses, except in Pindaric odes, where the stanzas are different from one another in number of verses, as shall be shown.
But to treat of all the different stanzas that are employed or may be admitted in our poetry would be a labour no less tedious than useless; it being easy to demonstrate that they may be varied almost to an infinity, that would be different from one another, either in the number of the verses of each stanza, or in the number of the syllables of each verse ”

“ And bowed very low that fair lady before, While retainers and guards crowded round by the score, Tantara-tantara-ta! And even the solemn old porter said, "Lor!" Tantara-tantara-ta! The Prince, when he heard all the hubbub and din, Tantara-tantara-ta! Came down the grand staircase, and held out his fin To the fair Cinderella, and welcomed her in, Tantara-tantara-ta! And a very sweet smile was so blest as to win. Tantara-tantara-ta! He leads her to the ball-room. As they enter, At once all eyes on Cinderella centre. Each noble of the land, well-born or grand, Desires the honour of her tiny hand. ”

“ In verses consisting only of a certain number of syllables, nothing can be of more ease, or greater use to poets, than the retaining or cutting off a syllable from a verse, according as the measure of it requires; and therefore it is requisite to treat of the elisions that are allowable in our poetry, some of which have been already taken notice of in the preceding section.
By elision I mean the cutting off one or more letters from a word, whereby two syllables come to be contracted into one, or the taking away an entire syllable. ”

“ They hustle, And bustle, In rich dresses rustle; The squeeze for good places is almost a tussle; Precedence depends not on birth, but on muscle. But they're none of them able To reach the high table, For the grave Major-Domo, perceiving the Babel, A sufficient space clears With the King's Musqueteers, Because he well knows it will cost him his ears If—when the time comes for the soups and the meats— The twelve fairy godmothers cannot find seats. ”

“ Now, it is perfectly true, of course, that a poet may well be allowed to effect the compromise of sacrificing a rhyme for a thought; but the versifier (for whom Walker's book is meant) must have no such license. He must learn to walk before he runs. Yet apart from this, Walker's argument is singularly illogical;—there can be no need to catalogue the blemishes, even on the ground he urges, since the imagination would suggest the license, not the license stimulate the imagination. ”

“ They endeavour to save Themselves in a cave: The Ogre approaches, and even the brave Little Hop o' my Thumb feels a tremor of dread When the giant, who suffers most frightful fatigues From striding across at each step seven leagues, Sits down on the rock that is over their head ”

“ Such Debasers of Rhyme, and Dablers in Poetry would do well to consider that a Man would justly deserve a higher Esteem in the World by being a good Mason or Shoe-Maker, than by being an indifferent or second-Rate Poet. ”

“ On the table is laid The cake that was made Ere Red Riding Hood opened her eyes, I'm afraid, And beside it a pot Whose equal could not At Fortnum and Mason's be easily got; For, as every one tells me, fine fragrant fresh honey Is not always obtainable, even for money. There are very few treats in the matter of sweets, Like the honey one fresh from the honeycomb eats. ”

“ Elision must be used with a sparing hand. Generally speaking, a vowel that is so slightly pronounced that it can be elided, as in "temperance"—"temp'rance," may just as well be left in, and accounted for by managing to get the "quantity" to cover it. Where it is too strongly pronounced, to cut it out is to disfigure and injure the line, as in the substitution of "wall'wing" for "wallowing." That elision is often used unnecessarily may be seen in the frequency with which, in reading verse, we—according to most authorities—elide the "y" of "many"—
"Full many a flower is doom'd to blush unseen." ”

“ Half-way to the top Puss in Boots made a stop Not because he was tired and quite ready to drop, But because he encountered a dame and her goodman And child—by profession the man was a woodman— And wished to inquire Ere he went any higher If this past all doubt was the castle and dwelling Of the wizard of whom I have elsewhere been telling. ”

“ In the midst of a snore The old lady woke up with a start, and said, "Lor! Red Riding Hood ne'er knocked so loudly before. Oh, deary me, it cannot be she; I 'll pretend I 'm still sleeping, and then we shall see." Rap, tap! once more She heard at the door: The wolf rapped so hard that his knuckles were sore. "The old woman sleeps like a top—what a bore! If she doesn't make haste, My time I shall waste— I shall miss that tit-bit who's so much to my taste." Rap, tap! Tap, rap! "She must wake from her nap, Or the child will be here Before I can clear Her foolish old grandmother up, every scrap." ”

“ At last said the grandam, "I rather a hand am At sleeping, I know, Very soundly, and so Perhaps she has waited and knocked there so long That, in order to wake me, her tap becomes strong. Who 's there?" then she cried; Said the wolf from outside, Disguising his voice the deception to hide, And whispering low with his mouth to a cranny, "It's no one but Little Red Riding Hood, granny! I've brought you some butter, some eggs, and a cake That mother got up in the morning to make, And she sends you besides some nice cream in a cup" "If you pull at the bobbin the latch will fly up!" ”

“ PUSS IN BOOTS. 'THERE once was a miller, who lived till he died— It's been done by a good many people beside; But this miller, you see, In particular—he, On the brink of the grave—"on the banks of the dee," As a Scotchman would say (vide song "Annie Laurie;" It North-country short is For articula mortis) — Made a will, whence arises the whole of my story. ”

“ While the visitors all Are crowded to death, though the place is not small, But from wall unto wall Crammed with short folks and tall, Who, as chances befall, And in various degrees They suffer the squeeze, bawl, brawl, haul, maul, squall, call, fall, crawl, and sprawl The King's looking pleasant, Expecting a present— Say knives, forks, and spoons that cost many a bezant— For his daughter and heiress From each of the fairies ”

“ Little he dreams that path has ne'er been trod By foot returning. Heedless he views the dark nooks in the glades, Passing to spots that shafts of sunlight brighten— Nor knows that human bones within those shades Are laid to whiten. ”

“ For joy they with decency scarce can bemean them When they find that their dad Every thing that he had Has left them, the eldest, to own all between them, Save one thing—and that Is only the cat, Which he leaves to the youngest, described as "that brat." The youngest, poor lad! didn't care what he had, By the loss of a father, not fortune, made sad. But as silent he sat, nursing his cat, And quite at a loss what he next should be at, Each brother, addressing him sternly as Nemesis, (Who, the Greeks say, less just and more cruel than Themis is,) Said, "Now then, young Lazybones! ”

“ One huntsman would have an ugly fall If he were not upheld by the palace wall, Whence a stray branch of woodbine, in pitying scorn for him, Has thrown out a trailer that's winding his horn for him. Another one, dropt Off soundly, is propt By a buttress that stands where his steed by chance stopt. ”