style-第13章
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may enshrine all the passion of the moment。 Romeo's apostrophe from under the balcony …
O; speak again; bright Angel! for thou art As glorious to this night; being o'er my head; As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white…upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him; When he bestrides the lazy…pacing clouds; And sails upon the bosom of the air …
though it breathe the soul of romance; must yield; for sheer effect; to his later soliloquy; spoken when the news of Juliet's death is brought to him;
Well; Juliet; I will lie with thee to…night。
And even the constellated glories of PARADISE LOST are less moving than the plain words wherein Samson forecasts his approaching end …
So much I feel my genial spirits droop; My hopes all flat; Nature within me seems In all her functions weary of herself; My race of glory run and race of shame; And I shall shortly be with them that rest。
Here are simple words raised to a higher power and animated with a purer intention than they carry in ordinary life。 It is this unfailing note of sincerity; eloquent or laconic; that has made poetry the teacher of prose。 Phrases which; to all seeming; might have been hit on by the first comer; are often cut away from their poetical context and robbed of their musical value that they may be transferred to the service of prose。 They bring with them; down to the valley; a wafted sense of some region of higher thought and purer feeling。 They bear; perhaps; no marks of curious diction to know them by。 Whence comes the irresistible pathos of the lines …
I cannot but remember such things were That were most precious to me?
The thought; the diction; the syntax; might all occur in prose。 Yet when once the stamp of poetry has been put upon a cry that is as old as humanity; prose desists from rivalry; and is content to quote。 Some of the greatest prose…writers have not disdained the help of these borrowed graces for the crown of their fabric。 In this way De Quincey widens the imaginative range of his prose; and sets back the limits assigned to prose diction。 So too; Charles Lamb; interweaving the stuff of experience with phrases quoted or altered from the poets; illuminates both life and poetry; letting his sympathetic humour play now on the warp of the texture; and now on the woof。 The style of Burke furnishes a still better example; for the spontaneous evolution of his prose might be thought to forbid the inclusion of borrowed fragments。 Yet whenever he is deeply stirred; memories of Virgil; Milton; or the English Bible rise to his aid; almost as if strong emotion could express itself in no other language。 Even the poor invectives of political controversy gain a measure of dignity from the skilful application of some famous line; the touch of the poet's sincerity rests on them for a moment; and seems to lend them an alien splendour。 It is like the blessing of a priest; invoked by the pious; or by the worldly; for the good success of whatever business they have in hand。 Poetry has no temporal ends to serve; no livelihood to earn; and is under no temptation to cog and lie: wherefore prose pays respect to that loftier calling; and that more unblemished sincerity。
Insincerity; on the other hand; is the commonest vice of style。 It is not to be avoided; except in the rarest cases; by those to whom the written use of language is unfamiliar; so that a shepherd who talks pithy; terse sense will be unable to express himself in a letter without having recourse to the READY LETTER…WRITER … 〃This comes hoping to find you well; as it also leaves me at present〃 … and a soldier; without the excuse of ignorance; will describe a successful advance as having been made against 〃a thick hail of bullets。〃 It permeates ordinary journalism; and all writing produced under commercial pressure。 It taints the work of the young artist; caught by the romantic fever; who glories in the wealth of vocabulary discovered to him by the poets; and seeks often in vain for a thought stalwart enough to wear that glistering armour。 Hence it is that the masters of style have always had to preach restraint; self…denial; austerity。 His style is a man's own; yet how hard it is to come by! It is a man's bride; to be won by labours and agonies that bespeak a heroic lover。 If he prove unable to endure the trial; there are cheaper beauties; nearer home; easy to be conquered; and faithless to their conqueror。 Taking up with them; he may attain a brief satisfaction; but he will never redeem his quest。
As a body of practical rules; the negative precepts of asceticism bring with them a certain chill。 The page is dull; it is so easy to lighten it with some flash of witty irrelevance: the argument is long and tedious; why not relieve it by wandering into some of those green enclosures that open alluring doors upon the wayside? To roam at will; spring…heeled; high…hearted; and catching at all good fortunes; is the ambition of the youth; ere yet he has subdued himself to a destination。 The principle of self…denial seems at first sight a treason done to genius; which was always privileged to be wilful。 In this view literature is a fortuitous series of happy thoughts and heaven…sent findings。 But the end of that plan is beggary。 Sprightly talk about the first object that meets the eye and the indulgence of vagabond habits soon degenerate to a professional garrulity; a forced face of dismal cheer; and a settled dislike of strenuous exercise。 The economies and abstinences of discipline promise a kinder fate than this。 They test and strengthen purpose; without which no great work comes into being。 They save the expenditure of energy on those pastimes and diversions which lead no nearer to the goal。 To reject the images and arguments that proffer a casual assistance yet are not to be brought under the perfect control of the main theme is difficult; how should it be otherwise; for if they were not already dear to the writer they would not have volunteered their aid。
It is the more difficult; in that to refuse the unfit is no warrant of better help to come。 But to accept them is to fall back for good upon a makeshift; and to hazard the enterprise in a hubbub of disorderly claims。 No train of thought is strengthened by the addition of those arguments that; like camp…followers; swell the number and the noise; without bearing a part in the organisation。 The danger that comes in with the employment of figures of speech; similes; and comparisons is greater still。 The clearest of them may be attended by some element of grotesque or paltry association; so that while they illumine the subject they cannot truly be said to illustrate it。 The noblest; including those time…honoured metaphors that draw their patent of nobility from war; love; religion; or the chase; in proportion as they are strong and of a vivid presence; are also domineering … apt to assume command of the theme long after their proper work is done。 So great is the headstrong power of the finest metaphors; that an author may be incommoded by one that does his business for him handsomely; as a king may suffer the oppression of a powerful ally。 When a lyric begins with the splendid lines;
Love still has something of the sea From whence his mother rose;
the further development of that song is already fixed and its knell rung … to the last line there is no escaping from the dazzling influences that presided over the first。 Yet to carry out such a figure in detail; as Sir Charles Sedley set himself to do; tarnishes the sudden glory of the opening。 The lady whom Burns called Clarinda put herself in a like quandary by beginning a song with this stanza …
Talk not of Love; it gives me pain; For Love has been my foe; He bound me in an iron chain; And plunged me deep in woe。
The last two lines deserve praise … even the praise they obtained from a great lyric poet。 But how is the song to be continued? Genius might answer the question; to Clarinda there came only the notion of a valuable contrast to be established between love and friendship; and a tribute to be paid to the kindly offices of the latter。 The verses wherein she gave effect to this idea make a poor s