Analysis of An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry
Thomas Parnell 1679 (Dublin) – 1718
To Henry, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke.
I hate the Vulgar with untuneful Mind,
Hearts uninspir'd, and Senses unrefin'd.
Hence ye Prophane, I raise the sounding String,
And Bolingbroke descends to hear me sing.
When Greece cou'd Truth in Mystick Fable shroud,
And with Delight instruct the list'ning Crowd,
An ancient Poet (Time has lost his Name)
Deliver'd Strains on Verse to future Fame.
Still as he sung he touch'd the trembling Lyre,
And felt the Notes a rising Warmth inspire.
Ye sweet'ning Graces in the Musick Throng,
Assist my Genius, and retrieve the Song
From dark Oblivion. See, my Genius goes
To call it forth. 'Twas thus the Poem rose.
Wit is the Muses Horse, and bears on high
The daring Rider to the Muses Sky:
Who, while his strength to mount aloft he tries,
By Regions varying in their Nature, flies.
At first he riseth o'er a Land of Toil,
A barren, hard, and undeserving Soil,
Where only Weeds from heavy Labour grow,
Which yet the Nation prune, and keep for show.
Where Couplets jingling on their Accent run,
Whose point of Epigram is sunk to Pun.
Where Wings by Fancy never feather'd fly,
Where Lines by measure form'd in Hatchets lie;
Where Altars stand, erected Porches gape,
And Sense is cramp'd while Words are par'd to shape;
Where mean Acrosticks labour'd in a Frame,
On scatter'd Letters raise a painful Scheme;
And by Confinement in their Work controul
The great Enlargings of the boundless Soul.
Where if a Warriour's elevated Fire
Wou'd all the brightest Strokes of Verse require,
Then streight in Anagram a wretched Crew
Will pay their undeserving Praises too;
While on the rack his poor disjointed Name
Must tell its Master's Character to Fame.
And (if my Fire and Fears aright presage)
The lab'ring Writers of a future Age
Shall clear new ground, and Grotts and Caves repair,
To civilize the babbling Ecchoes there.
Then while a Lover treads a lonely Walk,
His Voice shall with its own Reflection talk,
The closing Sounds of all the vain Device,
Select by trouble frivolously nice,
Resound through Verse, and with a false Pretence
Support the Dialogue, and pass for Sense.
Can things like these to lasting Praise pretend?
Can any Muse the worthless Toil befriend?
Ye sacred Virgins, in my Thoughts ador'd,
Ah, be for ever in my Lines deplor'd!
If Tricks on Words acquire an endless Name,
And Trifles merit in the Court of Fame.
'At this the Poet stood concern'd a while,
'And view'd his Objects with a scornful Smile:
'Then other Images of diff'rent kind,
'With diff'rent Workings enter'd on his Mind;
'At whose Approach he felt the former gone,
'And shiver'd in Conceit, and thus went on.
By a cold Region next the Rider goes,
Where all lies cover'd in eternal Snows;
Where no bright Genius drives the Chariot high,
To glitter on the Ground, and gild the Sky.
Bleak level Realm, where Frigid Stiles abound,
Where never yet a daring Thought was found,
But counted Feet is Poetry defin'd;
And starv'd Conceits that chill the Reader's Mind
A little Sense in many Words imply,
And drag with loit'ring numbers slowly by.
Here dry sententious Speeches half asleep,
Prolong'd in Lines, o'er many Pages creep;
Nor ever shew the Passions well exprest,
Nor raise like Passions in another's Breast.
Here flat Narrations fair Exploits debase,
In Measures void of ev'ry shining Grace;
Which never arm their Hero for the Field,
Nor with Prophetick Story paint the Shield,
Nor fix the Crest, or make the Feathers wave,
Or with their Characters reward the Brave;
Undeck'd they stand, and unadorn'd with Praise,
And fail to profit while they fail to please.
Here forc'd Description is so strangely wrought,
It never stamps its Image on the Thought;
The liveless Trees may stand for ever bare,
And Rivers stop, for ought the Readers care;
They see no Branches trembling in the Woods,
Nor hear the Murmurs of encreasing Floods,
Which near the Roots with ruffled Waters flow,
And shake the shadows of the Boughs below.
Ah sacred Verse, replete with heav'nly Flame,
Such cold Endeavours wou'd invade thy Name!
The Writer fondly wou'd in these survive,
Which wanting Spirit never seem'd alive:
But if Applause or Fame attend his Pen,
Let breathless Statues pass for breathing Men.
'Here seem'd the Singer touch'd at what he sung,
'And Grief a while delay'd his Hand and Tongue:
'But soon he check'd his Fingers, chose a Strain,
'And flourish'd shrill, and thus arose again.
Pass the next Region which appears to show,
'Tis
Scheme | A BBAA CCDDEEAAFF GAHH IIJJKKGGLLDXIXMMNNDDXXOOAAPPFXQQRRDD SSBBXX FFGATTBBGGUUBXVVWWXXXXYYOOXXJJDDZZ1 1 AAX1 JX |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101101 11010111 101001001 111110101 01011111 111101101 0101010111 1101011111 0101111101 11111101001 0101010101 1111000101 0111000101 11010011101 1111110101 1101010111 0101010101 1111110111 11010001101 1111100111 010100101 110111011 1101010111 11111011 111101111 1111010101 1111010101 1101010101 0111111111 1111001 1101010101 010100111 01110101 110110010 1101011110 110100101 111010101 1101110101 1111010011 0111001110 0111010101 1111010101 110010011 1101010101 1111110101 0101110101 0111010001 11101011 010100111 1111110101 1101010101 1101001101 1111001101 11110101101 0101000111 1101010101 0111010101 1101001111 1111010111 1101110101 0100010111 1011010101 1111000101 11110101001 1101010101 1101110101 1101010111 1101110001 011110101 0101010101 011110101 11110101 01011010101 110101011 1111000101 1111101 010111101 1101110101 11110101 1101110101 1111000101 11100111 0111011111 1101011101 1101110101 011111101 0101110101 11110100001 11010111 1101110101 010110101 110101111 11110111 0101010101 1101010101 1101110111 110111101 1101011111 0101011101 1111110101 0101010101 1011010111 1 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,334 |
Words | 762 |
Sentences | 29 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 4, 10, 4, 36, 6, 36, 4, 2 |
Lines Amount | 103 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 388 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 85 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 14, 2023
- 4:02 min read
- 75 Views
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"An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/36992/an-essay-on-the-different-stiles-of-poetry>.
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