an ornament of language chiefly used in poetry, and consisting in the repetition of the same letter at certain intervals. We do not remember to have ever seen any satisfactory account of alliteration in the writings of the critics. They seem to have passed it over in contemptuous silence; either as a false refinement or as a mere trifle. It perhaps deserves a better fate. Many chapters have been composed on quantity, on the expression resulting from different arrangements of long and short syllables, and on the powers of pauses as they are variously placed, without a word of alliteration. This is the more extraordinary, as one should think it impossible for any man to examine minutely, and, as it were, dissect a number of verses, without perceiving the vast abundance of this ornament. It is as if an anatomist should publish a complete table of the arteries in the human body, and affect never to have seen a vein nor a nerve: for it may be affirmed, with small danger of mistake, that if you examine any number of verses, remarkable either for sweetness or for energy, they will be found in some degree alliterative. We do not pretend to say, that the sweetness and energy of versification depends chiefly on this circumstance, yet we cannot help believing that it may claim some share; for it is a constant appearance, as far as we have ever observed, that the poets whose fame is highest for versification, are most extensive dealers in this article.

The trifling poor appearance of the ornament itself, upon a superficial view, and the frequent abuse of it, are circumstances indeed which give no encouragement to a ferious inquiry into its nature and operation. How common is it for writers, who affect to be comic, when in want of other means for raising a smile, to use affected alliteration with success. But, in the fine arts, no beauty nor grace is beyond the power of ridicule. The noblest attitudes in painting have been rendered laughable by caricature. St Paul preaching at Athens, in the design of Raphael, appears elegant, noble, and in some degree awful. The same apostle, represented by Hogarth in nearly the same attitude, pleading before the governor Felix, seems altogether ridiculous. So the language and verification of Milton in the Paradise Lost appear only proper for the most elevated subjects. In the Splendid Shilling of Philips, they appear equally proper for the lowest. So fares it also with alliteration. Nor ought we to be mortified at the discovery, that much of the delight afforded by verification arises from a cause so pitiful as the repetition of the same letter twice, or oftener, on the accented parts of a verse; for there are many other causes of pleasure, which, when thus detected and taken to pieces, seem equally contemptible.

We apprehend the principal operation of this ornament to be quite mechanical. It is easier for the organs of speech to refuse, at short intervals, one certain conformation, than to throw themselves into a number of different ones, unconnected and discordant. For example, a succession of labials, interspersed at regular distances with dentals and gutturals, will be more easily pronounced than the succession of all the three at random. Sounds of which the articulation is easiest, are most completely in the power of the speaker. He can pronounce them slowly or rapidly, softly or with force, at pleasure. In this we imagine the power and advantage of alliteration is founded: for we would not lay any stress on the pleasure which can result to the ear from the repetition of the same letter. It has been compared to the frequent returns of the key-note in a musical strain; but that analogy is extremely faint. The ear, we presume, can be pleased with alliteration only in so far as it contributes to the superior easiness of recitation; for what is recited with ease must be heard with pleasure.

These remarks might be confirmed and illustrated by numberless passages from the best poets. Some few lines will suffice, taken from Grey, who seems to have paid particular attention to this grace. He professed to have learned his verification from Dryden, as Dryden did from Spencer; and these three abound in alliteration above all the English poets. We choose Grey for another reason, in proof of what we mentioned before, that alliteration contributes not only to the sweetness, but also to the energy, of verification; for he uses it chiefly when he aims at strength and boldness. In the Siller Odes (as Dr Johnson styles them), almost every strophe commences and concludes with an alliterative line. The poet, we suppose, wished to begin with force, and end with dignity.

"Ruin seize thee, ruthless king." "To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay." "Weave the warp, and weave the woof." "Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom."

"Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway." "That hush'd in grim repose, expects his ev'n'ing prey."

It must be observed here, that we hold a verse alliterative which has a letter repeated on its accented parts, although those parts do not begin words; the repeated letter bearing a strong analogy to the bars in a musical phrase. Grey seems to have had a particular liking to these sort of balanced verses, which divide equally, and of which the opposite sides have an alliterative resemblance.

"Eyes that glow, and fangs that grin," "Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." "Hauberk craft, and helmet ring."

All these lines appear to us to have a force and energy, arising from alliteration, which renders them easy to be recited; or, if the reader pleases, mouthed. For the same reason the following passage appears sad and solemn, by the repetition of the labial liquid.

"Mountains, ye mourn in vain." "Modred, whose magic song," &c.

If alliteration thus contributes to enforce the expression of a poetical sentiment, its advantages in poetry must be considerable. It is not, therefore, unworthy a poet's regard in the act of composition. If two words offer of equal propriety, the one alliterative the other not, we think the first ought to be chosen. We would compare this to the practice of fuguing in music. A composer who aims at expression will not hunt after fugues; but if they offer, if they seem to arise spontaneously from the subject, he will not reject them. So a good poet ought not to select an epithet merely for beginning with a certain letter, unless it suit his purpose well in every other respect; for the beauty of alliteration, when happy, is not greater than its deformity when affected. A couplet from Pope will exemplify both; the first line being bad, and the second good:

"Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever green."