not from specimens that fall short of its requirements. The student need not be alarmed by the summary. Perfection, as a sine qua non, is to be demanded of nobody; and many a sonnet has lasted and been found beautiful, that had no pretensions to it. Still perfection is to be aimed at : it has often, in this small shape, been realized ; points of it may be attained, if not all; some points must be always attempted, such as unforced rhymes, and unsuperfluous words; and the student will do well always to bear in mind what has been said by a critic not given to the sentimental, that " one sonnet without a fault is alone worth a long poem.'

√ The sonnet, then, in order to be a perfect work of art, and no compromise with a difficulty, must in the first place be a Legitimate Sonnet after the proper Italian fashion; that is to say, with but two rhymes to the octave, and not more than three in the sestette.

Secondly, it must confine itself to one leading idea, thought, or feeling.

Thirdly, it must treat this one leading idea, thought, or feeling in such a manner as to leave in the reader's mind no sense of irrelevancy or insufficiency.

Fourthly, it must not have a speck of obscurity.
Fifthly, it must not have a forced rhyme.

Sixthly, it must not have a superfluous word.

Seventhly, it must not have a word too little; that is to say, an omission of a word or words, for the sake of convenience.

Eighthly, it must not have a word out of its place. Ninthly, it must have no very long word, or any

"Un sonnet sans défaut vaut seul un long poëme."

BOILEAU.

other that tends to lessen the number of accents, and so weaken the verse.

Tenthly, its rhymes must be properly varied and contrasted, and not beat upon the same vowel, a fault too common with very good sonnets. It must not say, for instance, rhyme, tide, abide, crime; or play, gain, refrain, way; but contrast i with o, or with some other strongly opposed vowel, and treat every vowel on the same principle.

Eleventhly, its music, throughout, must be as varied as it is suitable; more or less strong, or sweet, according to the subject; but never weak or monotonous, unless monotony itself be the effect intended.

Twelfthly, it must increase, or, at all events, not decline, in interest, to its close.

Lastly, the close must be equally impressive and unaffected; not epigrammatic, unless where the subject warrants it, or where point of that kind is desirable; but simple, conclusive, and satisfactory; strength being paramount, where such elevation is natural, otherwise on a level with the serenity; flowing in calmness, or grand in the manifestation of power withheld.

see

Go now, you who undertook to scorn the sonnet, and

if

you had not better have made made yourself a little more acquainted with what you scorned.

III.

OF GUITTONE D' AREZZO, AND OF THE SONNETS OF DANTE
AND PETRARCA.

ENTION has been made, in the preceding section, of a certain Friar Guittone of Arezzo, who is believed to have been the first to give the sonnet its right workmanlike treatment and versification. Mr. Lofft, in the third volume of his "Laura" (Sonnet 158), has selected a most extraordinary effusion of the Reverend Brother, for the purpose of appending to it the gamut supposed to have been invented by the Friar, his namesake, and of showing the musical accord of the verses therewith. The sonnet has a tremendous accompaniment of its own; no less, namely, than the trumpet of the Day of Judgment, which the good Brother says he shall be "delighted to hear," together with the awful words that ensue, because the Creator will then see, by his countenance, how he, Friar Guittone, has always loved Him! Not a word is added of pity for those who had not been so pious. Such is not the occasion which other lovers of the Divine Being -St. Francis de Sales, for instance, or Bishop Berkeley, or Dr. Doddridge - would have selected for manifesting this kind of superiority over their fellow-creatures. And

yet this same Friar so great is the difference between what a man actually feels and what he thinks he could feel - has left a veritably tender as well as elegant sonnet on the subject of human love, which accords with the opinion entertained of him as the harbinger of good sonneting.

Guittone d' Arezzo was followed by the tender Cino da Pistoia, by the noble-minded Guido Cavalcante, and by their great friend Dante Alighieri, who, with the graceful Guido Guinicelli and the others, carried to philosophical heights of refinement those efforts of the brain which the Provençal poets were in the habit of substituting for effusions of the heart; but these transcendentalisms were accompanied with a sensibility and a pathos which not only exonerated the Italians from the charge of a like mistake, but confirmed those demands of real feeling in the sonnet, and in amatory poetry in general, which were soon to be diffused throughout the civilized world by the fame of Petrarca.

Nor is it to be denied, we think, that, as far as feeling and expression are concerned, to say nothing of imagination, the sonnet, in the hands of Dante, reached a perfection which Petrarca himself did not attain. Dante, when religious or political fanaticism did not lower him into one of the most melancholy spectacles on earth, that of a great understanding overmastered by a violent will,—could be not only a profound thinker and observer, but tender and affectionate in the extremest degree. In imagination, which is the highest requisite of poetry, he surpassed perhaps every other poet in the world, before or since, — certainly was by none surpassed; and if this, in so proud, presumptuous, and irascible a man, says lit

tle for the exaltation of poetry itself in comparison with philosophy, for who supposes Plato and Socrates to have been slaves to such infirmities?-it says nothinganticlimax apart—against the all-embracing little sonnet, in which a man may show what humors he pleases, provided he show them in a poetical manner. Dante, accordingly, has cursed as well as blessed in his sonnets; while in the very earliest of them, written before he was out of his teens, he gave promise of that rare and intense imagination of which he was afterwards so profuse. Had he written indeed as many poems of this kind, or half as many, as his illustrious successor in this line, and thoroughly applied his faculties to the task, it is to be doubted whether he, instead of Petrarca, would not have set the pattern of the sonnet to succeeding ages, and elevated the nature of its demands besides.

For next to the unquestionable superiority in the highest respect of one of these renowned poets over the other, that of Dante in the Sonnet as appears to me was the very important one of grace over elegance; that is to say, of the inner spirit of the beautiful over the outer; of unstudied, as opposed to studied effect; of sentiment expressing itself wholly for its own sake, contrasted with sentiment selecting its words for the sake of the words also.

Not that Petrarca had no grace. Far was he from any such nullity. He had a great deal of grace, but not so much in distinction from the critical sense of it; not such reliance upon it, apart from the aid to be given it by the accomplishments of style. Petrarca has frequent instances, not only of grace, but of passion; to say