the results of these iamboids or halting iambs is "variety," whether "pleasing" or not; and it is equally clear, as in the case of the so-called spondee, that a frequent use of the pyrrhic would make the composition prose. The mone and anapest suggested above is the rational alternative with the text as it stands. The scanning of the line, then-if it must be scanned-is this:

"He ceased, and Satan stayed |not to reply," the "not" being a mone, such as it is, and the "to reply" an anapest of good character. The same poet has this verse:

"Fierce as ten Furies terrible | as Hell,"

wherein "rible" is more "pleasing variety" of the same kind. The scanning of the line is, as much as anything, this:

"Fierce as ten Furies terrible | as Hell, |!"

the diverse varieties yielding a line of average prose; if Milton did write it.

EVOLUTION.-Metre with the multitude of prosodists-exclusive of those, like Wordsworth, that call rhythm by that nameseems to mean the measuring and dividing

of poetry into verses; into verses of somewhat uniform lengths; lengths varying from one to sixteen or more syllables; generally, however, from six to ten. At first, it seems, the verses were all of the same length; and the remains of the early poetry of most if not of all nations show that this equality was a necessary part of the idea of verse. It is notably so in the Greek, the earlier poetry being of uniform length. Next came alternates, the second verse being shorter than the first. Then followed, in that and other languages, greater, and later, still greater varieties, until we have to-day hundreds.

The step we propose to take is in the direction which history shows the tendency to have been and to be; and the conclusion we wish to present is that the whole idea of uniform, approximately uniform, or in-any-way related lengths of verses, is no part of poetry. The idea of this metre seems to have grown out of the earliest uses of verse. first poets were prophets or priests and moralists; and, in those ante-literary days, verses were used at first to embody apothegms and the pithy utterances of the Pythian mediums,

The

in a form differing from every-day language. A verse to a thought, or a thought to a verse, was the first form. A verse meant then a sentence-one thought epigrammatically expressed, an epigram-epi and grapheinoriginally meaning an inscription. The epigram gradually grew into a rhythmical verse. The second step was to pair these verses; and here came the need of identity of rhythm. The result was the couplet.

About this stage in the evolution of verse, presumably came in alliteration and rhyme of various kinds. We need only refer the reader to the anthologies of early nations for illustrative examples of these steps or stages, and of the introduction of these elements.

The couplet doubled or repeated becomes the quatrain; and the quatrain, by simple accretion, grew to the poem of indefinite number of verses of uniform length. It was this uniformity in the length of the verses that gave meaning to the word metre. At that point, of course, the canons of unwritten prosody required-demanded-absolute equality in the verses. That metre, with this idea, has been losing its meaning down to

the present day, we think is easy to be seen; and that metre, both as a word and as an idea, should be utterly and finally dropped from our language, is the main point of this essay.

Variations-departures from this equality -came in slowly, but came in steadily; until to-day we have a degree of variety that is well calculated to bewilder the brain that looks at it through the glasses of the old prosodies-that holds on to the dead idea that metrical limitations have even a shadow of a foundation in nature and reason. The variety is easily accounted for. The hunger for it, as to metres, stanzas, echoes, refrains and reiterations, arises from the natural differences in subjects and treatments. It is clear that whenever two subjects differ in nature, then should the treatments-in details of metre, rhythm, and all-also differ. The infinite differences in subjects call for infinite variety of metres; and infinite variety of metres means no metre at all.

The young poet, naturally desirous of applause, accepts the conditions upon which he has seen former poets become popular.

He accepts the existing as the safest way; and so adds another to the ancestral line of form

upholders.

This conforming to existing models and to the conventionalities of the art is becoming more and more irksome to young poets; and in America, beyond all other countries, this spirit of discarding forms—as well generally as in poetry-which are conventional and which have not some good reason in the nature of things-some use-is steadily and in several directions rapidly growing. So that we need no Daniel's power to foresee that whatever there is of mere conventionality in this matter of prosody is destined to give place, sooner or later, before this spirit. What is natural will survive. What is conventional will pass away.

Let us pause here to define our word "use." It has nothing whatever to do with utilitarianism, which seems to mean a measuring of everything by the standard of material values—by money, for that is what it amounts to, in its sinister aspect. That this demon-the Love of Money, which is the root of all evil-is rampant, universal, and