for Absalom; though he does not point out that it contains, as it stands, two beautiful trochaic lines:—
"O my son, my son Absal-om, Absalom, my son, my son:
Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!"
It is, of course, merely accidental when, as in numerous instances, whole tetrameters can be thus evolved from impassioned prose; it is enough for our argument to observe that such rhythmical sentences perpetually occur in any elevated language, and that, in accordance with such elevation of thought, the tendency to run into trochaic, and other measures developed from it—the dactylic, for instance—is proportionably increased. The translation of Jerome, commonly called the Vulgate, furnished probably in this respect much of the very materials, as also of the life and spirit of these sacred Latin hymns. The writer measured himself by no standard, and conformed his style to no rule of ancient or contemporary composition. The subject-matter had no parallel on earth, and a new speech must, as it were, be created to fit itself, by an entire disconnection of all heathen associations, to be the very transcript and echo of the written word and the spoken voice of heaven. And as our versions of the Holy Scriptures were composed at a time when our language was more spoken than written, and both spoken and written more than it was printed or read; when the echo of these glorious hymns, continued often in the dialogue of the Mysteries and Miracle-plays, still lingered, spite of the Reformation, in the nation's ear; when men expressed themselves as they felt, rather than as others expressed themselves or felt, without premeditation or rule, and therefore, when the subject-matter essentially required it, rhythmically, melodiously, powerfully, and well—how much may thus have been contributed towards inspiring and sustaining a poetic life in the English language, which an entire
