_Ronsard_, in the Preface to his _Franciade_, owns that their
_Alexandrine_ Lines have too much prattle (_ils ont trop de caquet_)
and that it is a Fault in their Poetry that one Line does not run into
another, and therefore he wrote his _Franciade_ in Verses of ten
Syllables, and broke the Measure. The Author of the History of
_French_ Poetry confesses, that the constant Pause in their Lines
makes the Poetry tedious; and the judicious and learned Translator of
_Quintilian_ says directly, that it is owing to the continual Sameness
of Numbers that their Verse cannot please long. In reality, it is a
kind of Stanza, and ought to be so writ.

_Jeune & vaillant Heros
Dont la haute sagesse
N'est point le fruit tardif
D'une lente vieillesse._

Not to insist upon the _Prattle_ (as _Ronsard_ calls it) of these two
celebrated Lines; for what does _Vaillant_ add to _Heros_, or _haute_
to _sagesse_, and what is the Difference between _tardif_ and _lente_?
I say to let this pass, the eternal Repetition of the same Pause is
the Reverse of Harmony: Three Feet and three Feet for thousands of
Lines together, make exactly the same Musick as the ting, tong, tang
of the same Number of Bells in a Country-Church. We had this wretched
sort of Metre amongst us formerly, and _Chaucer_ is justly stil'd the
Father of _English_ Verse, because he was the first that ever wrote in
rhym'd Couplets of ten Syllables each Line. He found, by his Judgment,
and the Delicacy of his Ear, that Lines of eight Syllables, such as
_Gower_ his Cotemporary wrote in, were too short, and the twelve
Syllable-Lines too long. He pitch'd upon the other Sort just