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New Perspectives in Alliteration (well, half, anyway)

On September 1st I participated in a conference on New Perspectives on Alliteration in Poetry and Cultural History. It was organized by Tim Anderson, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of East Anglia. It was a fascinating experience — a topic like “alliteration” doesn’t have a tight connection to any particular academic discipline, so people can come at it from any direction. And did we! It was a great opportunity to meet people I only knew from reading their poems, like Paul Deane, Adam Bolivar, and Rahul Gupta. I couldn’t attend all the talks, but here’s what I saw in my half of the parallel sessions.

Modern and Contemporary Alliteration

Harriet Truscott, “Type-setting, Poem-making, Pattern-shaping: Alliteration and the poem as a print object”

This was an eye-opener. To Harriet, poems are something different from what I’d thought. She painted us a picture of a typesetter loading type into a frame. To the typesetter, alliteration is a motion, as they reach to the same box for a letter — or even a space! From this point of view, the printed poem on the page is an adaptation, made by the typesetter. Her example was Ezra Pound’s poem “In a Station of the Metro“. If you click on that link, you’ll see something quite different from what Pound sent to the printer, and what the printer put in the magazine. That’s because HTML doesn’t care about how many spaces you put into the text. Pound and his typesetter did, though. The original had several spaces in the middle of the lines. So… what’s the actual poem? I think she wants us to treat everything as an adaptation — even the typewritten page the poet sent to the publisher, which would have been my guess.

Paul Deane, “The Late Twentieth- and Early Twenty-First-Century Alliterative Revival”

Paul traced the history of alliterative poetry over the past 150 years, from the discovery of ancient manuscripts by the Victorians to the science-fiction and fantasy fans who have been writing under the cultural radar. That latter group has been well documented by Dennis Wise in his book and in a series of blog posts at Tales after Tolkien. My favorite line: “Gerard Manley Hopkins doesn’t count!” Without Paul’s work, my own paper wouldn’t have happened, so it was good to meet him and hear the story of his decades of work to publicize modern alliterative verse. 

Jacob Edmond, “Bad Bad Beat: The Alliterative Alignments of Revolutionary Rhythm”

Scholars have a tendency to focus on poetic alliteration that’s derived from Old English. (guilty!) To this body, Jacob wants to add the Barbadian poet Edward Kamau Brathwaite. Iambic pentameter doesn’t go well with Caribbean speech-rhythms, so his poems are quite different. He uses short lines, usually with two stresses, which makes alliteration really stand out. He likes to alliterate on “b” and “d”, to give his verses a feel like drums accompanying them.

Alliteration in Numbers

Maria Hartman, “Alliteration in Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘The Masque of the Red Death’ in Swedish Translation: A Mixed-Methods Study”

Edgar Allan Poe loved alliteration. This talk was about the tradeoffs you have to make when translating him into Swedish. Lots of S-words in English are P-words in Swedish, so which do you want to keep: onomatopoeia or alliteration? And when a character is Prince Prospero, do you try to keep the P’s? Or do you change him to Duke Prospero, so everyone will get the reference to The Tempest?

Joe Hoffman, “The Hunt for Alliterative Melody”

We’ve already read this one

Rafael Pascual, “Alliterative Metrics and Digital Methods: A new Index and Database for Classical Old English Verse”

Rafael told us about his work in the trenches of digital humanities. This is the kind of thing that makes life so easy for numerically-oriented investigators into how poems work. (In case I should ever run into one.) He calls it a database in the title, but when he’s talking he says it’s an Excel spreadsheet. (Not everything has to be Big Data!) Each half-line of Old English poetry gets a row, in which it is labelled by scansion, alliterative pattern, and position of the caesura. It’s going to be online under the title “The Scansion of Old English Verse”. It’s intended as a replacement for Hutcheson’s “Old English Poetic Metre”. Rafael noted, as an example application, how to use it to find what he calls “clichés of alliteration”, which may help with attribution of anonymous works (is my guess).

Alliteration in Translation

Selene Genovesi, “Finding Phonetic Fidelity: Alliteration in English Translation of Trilussa’s Poetry”

I’d never heard of Trilussa before. As Selene introduced him to us, he was a 19th-century Romantic poet, with extra Roman. The Italian language was just getting standardized back then; Trilussa wrote in the Roman dialect. He wrote a lot of political satires that, as translated for us, were pretty brutal. Selene has a gorgeous reading voice, which made a funny contrast with the subject matter. The main point of the talk was about a recent translation by Lawrence Hooper of his poems into Cockney, which some scholars say is insulting but I accept Selene’s argument that it keeps the disrespectful tone intact. Trilussa’s alliteration was (fittingly) three-fold: for reinforcement, playful manipulation of words; and as a mnemonic aid. The talk was followed by a spirited discussion of whether it was legitimate to alliterate on the apostrophe at the beginning of a word, so that e.g. “here” and “there” alliterate in Cockney. I think the consensus was “yes”.

Margaret Ann Noodin, “Naanabweginiwewe gaye Nanaabikidowinan (Folded Phonemes and Waves of Words): Anishinaabe Alliteration in Songs and Stories”

Margaret is a poet in the Ojibwemowin language. The language is agglutinative. It makes different parts of speech out of the same concept by adding suffixes. As you can see in the title, the suffixes can pile up pretty deep. Ojibwemowin poetry, therefore, has an alliterative pattern that’s tightly bound up with the subject matter. She sang us a song that illustrates it well: the root for “opening” applies to springtime, flowers, river mouths, and being bitten by mosquitoes. All those ideas begin with “zaag” so the poem is highly alliterative, four letters deep. Presumably, a poem that talked about two contrasting ideas would find itself falling into an ABAB alliterative pattern.

Carlos Fernandez, “Cayeron … como caían los cuerpos muertos del Dante”: José Martí’s Alliterative Adaptation of Dante’s Inferno in “El presidio político en Cuba”

This talk zoomed in tightly on the line in the title of the talk. The Inferno, which is an unimpeachable choice of source material for a poem about being sentenced to hard labor in a pre-revolutionary Cuban prison camp. All those “k” sounds give the feeling of dead bodies piling up. 

Jean Martinely Iata, “It’s Not a Broken Record: The Dynamics of British and Malagasy Battle Raps’ Poetic Sounds”

Few things in our sublunary existence approach the perfection of a Platonic ideal, but one of them was, until this talk, my ignorance of Malagasy battle rap. The genre is derived from US hip-hop culture, but the rappers on Madagascar have given it their own twist. They write with a two-line structure: the first is an image to be taken literally; the second is the figurative application to the person who needs to be taken down a peg. The narrative images get fricative sounds (f, v, θ, ð, s, z, ʃ, ʒ) and the punchlines get plosives (p, t, k, b, d g). In a way, this means that Malagasy rappers use slant alliteration the same way US and British rappers use slant rhyme.

Plenary Talks

Joseph Phelan, “Made to Match: Alliteration in the Poetry of Robert Browning”

Robert Browning had a long career, during which fashions changed tremendously. His use of alliteration rose and fell over time. “The Ring and the Book” is the peak, after which he seems to have gotten the feeling that he was getting too “mannered” (a word I had to look up). There’s a correlation between lines that include alliteration and lines where Browning deviates from strict iambic pentameter and some other way to flag the end of a line was evidently needed. Best throwaway line: ” ‘Browning’s macabre poems’ is practically a pleonasm.” For a contemporary critical source, Prof Phelan referred us to the marvelously-named Coventry Patmore’s “Essay on English Metrical Law“, whither I shall proceed directly.

Chris Jones, “Over all Nations: Alliteration and Indigeneity in the Work of Carter Revard”

Birch Canoe” by Carter Revard is only six lines long, but Prof. Jones spent an hour on a close reading of it. Electron microscopes don’t read so closely. Carter Revard was a half Osage scholar of Old English poetry. This poem is a perfect fusion of those two things. The “indigeneity” in the title refers to the unfortunate infestation of the fields that study early-medieval England by anti-immigrant racists, and forces us to use circumlocutions like “early-medieval England” after they crufted up the term “Anglo-Saxon”. They’re very proud of being the spirit of their homeland, but if you want to talk about being indigenous, the descendants of immigrants from Germany don’t have a leg to stand on, compared to the Osage. By the time Prof Jones got done, we could see that almost every word in the poem, which on the surface is about paddling on a stream in America, harked back to something in Old English literature. For example, “the lightfoot deer” has a web of semantic and contextual relations to the “hæðstapa” in Beowulf. A real tour de force.

The Hunt for Alliterative Melody

As presented at “New Perspectives on Alliteration in Poetry and Cultural History”, University of East Anglia, 1 September 2025

1. Introduction

What’s the purpose of alliteration in modern poetry? The oldest answer I could find to that question is from 1902. Talking about Shakespeare’s sonnets, Thomas R. Price said, “As the result of the caesura was to cut the verse into two halves, he felt, like older poets, the need of linking the two parts by most ingenious harmonies of sound.” (Price) I like this: As poetic structures got longer and more complex, poets needed a technique to keep the listener’s ears connected to what they were doing. So they reached back into the history of English, where alliteration linked two halves of a longline, and gave it a new job: jumping across a caesura wherever one might show up. Or in a rhymed poem, alliteration can pole-vault line endings, connecting verses orthogonally to the rhythmic structure. In a sense, it might even form a separate melody, like a baroque concerto over the continuo, or a jazz solo over the rhythm section.

If this is truly what’s happening, it will take some proving. This is going to be harder to hear than the structures of formal verse. It’s just at the limit of what I can hear. Well, when confronted with a phenomenon that’s just beyond sensory perception, physicists immediately start thinking of a way to augment our senses with some sort of technology. And that’s exactly what I did.

As Paul Deane argued this morning, and as Dennis Wilson Wise demonstrated by collecting 400 pages of it (Wise), the language is currently experiencing a revival of alliterative verse. Are modern alliterative poets using it for the same function? Is this a recreation of the old forms, or are they doing something new? I can’t think of anything more 21st Century than to apply natural-language processing to that question. A caution, though, from Richard Bailey in 1971: “some of the questions of greatest concern to critics are amenable to mathematical treatment. Yet work of this kind is historically troubled by literary fatuity or statistical ineptness…”. (Bailey) I’ll have to be careful.

2. History

Literary scholars have been extracting everything they can from Shakespeare for a few hundred years, including detailed maps of which sounds are used where in his sonnets. They found all sorts of interesting things, like Price’s observation.

Around 1939, B.F. Skinner (the famous psychologist and rat-tormentor) decided that their scholarly claims were nice, but they needed quantitative validation, and he began with Shakespeare’s alliteration.(Skinner) He identified the positions of common letters at the start of stressed syllables, tested them according to a binomial distribution of the expected frequency of repetition, and concluded that you could produce a similar distribution “by drawing words out of a hat.” I have tremendous respect for anyone with the perseverance to do a binomial regression by hand, but unfortunately Skinner began from some flawed premises. He was immediately smacked down in the literature for (a) not understanding how alliteration is defined and (b) ignoring the fact that alliteration has an ancient tradition in English verse and poets have said they’re using alliteration for centuries. His antagonists, such as Elizabeth Jackson (Jackson) and Ulrich Goldsmith (Goldsmith), used the old qualitative methods, augmented by knowing that alliteration resides mostly in nouns and verbs and never in function words, and combinations of consonants aren’t the same as a consonant in isolation, to set the record straight, and there it lay for a few decades.

In the 1970s, digital computation became cheap enough that a new generation of non-poets was inspired to turn computers loose on the question of poetic alliteration. (Leavitt), (Greenberg) They created a variety of clever algorithms to do simple statistical tests and make contour maps of sound density of a selection of poems. They were hampered a bit, though, by the unavailability of a large corpus of phonetically-coded digital texts and, once again, their unfamiliarity with the traditions of alliterative verse. Their algorithms tended to zero in on very simple structures and miss some features that would jump out immediately at a human reader. As a result, when they ranked poems by the importance of alliteration within them, they would get odd results. For example, Ezra Pound’s translation of “The Seafarer”, (Pound) which explicitly echoes Old English alliterative patterns, comes out in the middle of the pack. Jay Leavitt et al. in particular knew this wasn’t working well, because their papers provide several different algorithms that give different results, and the reader is invited to choose among them. (Machine-learning researchers do this, today.)

Then there was another lull until the 21st Century, when natural-language processing and digital archives of verse became available. Text-to-speech systems could finally reproduce the patterns of stressed syllables and their associated phonemes in a way that matches how humans hear poetry. These spoken-equivalent texts get tested with graph theory, time-series analysis, and geolocation. I’m a particular fan of a group called “Plotting Poetry” dedicated to pushing the boundaries of “mechanically-enhanced reading”. But I haven’t seen modern statistics applied to alliteration yet, and that’s where I’m going to go.

3. Method

Three-box process diagram as described in the text.

Figure 1. Analytical process.

The Carnegie-Mellon University has put on line an open-source English dictionary for the text-to-speech step.(Rudnicky) Open source is important, because poets don’t use the same kind of English that telephone-answering robots use, so every new poem I investigate requires a few words to be added to the dictionary. I also needed to tweak the database to account for the convention that not all words participate in alliteration, so words like “the” and “she” and “if” don’t have a stressed syllable. The next step is a Perl program to read the poem and throw out everything except the sound at the beginning of the stressed syllables. (This role was played by two young women in Skinner’s work.) These sounds, the skeleton if you will of the audible part of the poem, are fed to a notebook in the R statistical software. A function in R counts, for each sound, the number of non-alliterating stresses that come before the next occurrence of the same sound, generates histograms of intervals, and compares them to the theoretical distribution we should get if the choice of sounds were truly random.

a histogram with high peaks at 0 and 1 (about 25) and low, random bars (about 2-3) elsewhere.

Figure 2. Intervals in strict Old English form

For the most-alliterative end of the bench, I chose J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Song of the Mounds of Mundburg”(Tolkien, Poems 1235), which he said in Letter 187 was “the strictest form of Anglo-Saxon verse”. (Tolkien, Letters) The spike in the left figure is what the rules require: 0 means two consecutive stresses alliterate; 1 means the half-line skipped one syllable. So that’s what the left-hand side of these histograms means: a high bar means a lot of old-school alliteration.

A bar graph that slopes gradually downward from 15.

Figure 3. Intervals in Wikipedia sample

The graph in Figure 3 might be unexpected, though. As we’d expect, it’s a lot more spread out and there’s no distinctive spike. Its maximum is 2 however, and zero is the second most-common interval. English speakers like to alliterate even when there’s no poetic intent at all.

4. Experiments

Now that we’ve got the machinery built, we can conduct experiments. The frequency of letters in English, etaoin shrdlu, is not the same as the frequency of alliterative sounds: all the vowels are lumped together; “T” gets split into T and TH; “S” gets split apart into S, SH, ST, and SK. When we get done, there are 28 possible things on which to alliterate. But the chance of getting an alliterating syllable on the next stress isn’t 1/28th – English speakers love to alliterate, so the best-fit chance is closer to 1 in 6.

4.1. Inside you there are three Beowulves

3 bar graphs with the same red reference line. They're described in the text.

Figure 4. Frequency graphs of three Beowulf poems.

Here are the first 200 lines of “Beowulf” translated by Seamus Heaney (Heaney), the same very freely translated by Maria Dahvana Headley (Headley), and “The Lay of Beowulf” by Tolkien (Tolkien, Poems 815). The red line I’ve put on the histograms is the best-fit parameter to a negative-binomial model of “K” in the Wikipedia selection. Headley, on the left, makes heavy use of alliteration but she’s not being poetic about it. She’s more like cramming alliterating words together for fun. You can see that the normally-expected intervals between consonants of 3-8 stressed syllables has been depleted after each alliteration binge.

Heaney, in the middle, looks pretty random. This is close to the reference line, and wherever there’s a peak, there’s a valley next to it. Tolkien’s “Lay” on the right doesn’t really have alliteration beyond the typical English rate, but since it’s a lay, every stanza ends with the word “Heorot”. The poem is in iambic tetrameter, so the end repetition causes the bump up at 15. The bump up at 8 is also not very alliterative, because that happens every time an H-syllable appears in the middle of a stanza. It breaks the 15 into two halves. So now we know what the right-hand side of those histograms means: it’s where large-scale poetic forms can make an appearance.

4.2. A-LotR-ation

The alliterating consonants are colored. D is orange and W is green., there are S and ST as well.

Figure 5. Last stanza of the poem.

Gimli’s song about Khazad-dum from The Fellowship of the Ring (LR 2.04.188) is the poem that got me started. This all began with Corey Olsen’s talk at Mythmoot XI. The poem’s form is rhymed quatrains of iambic tetrameter, but some people see an irregular pattern of alliteration in it. Other people aren’t convinced, so out come the computer programs. Measuring the alliterative structure of a Tolkien poem is tough, though, because Tolkien used alliteration much more than your typical trafficker in text. If we feed the entire Lord of the Rings to the program, zero is prominently above the curve. If we’re going to ask about “Khazad-dum”, we need to take this into account. If we compare Gimli‘s song to some random victorian tetrameters it might or might not look alliterative, but what happens if we compare it to the 300 words of prose that come right before it?

Two histograms. The one for the poem has lower frequencies and less structure than the one on the right.

Figure 6. Frequency graphs for Gimli’s song and preceding prose.

Gimli’s song has a spike at 4 that might be important – 4 beats is the distance from the middle of one line to the next, which is what you’d see if alliteration was working vertically, tying lines together, but overall it’s much less alliterative than the prose section. It’s also less alliterative than the other dwarf song we get, “Far over the Misty Mountains Cold”. Now, an absence of tight alliteration goes along with the idea of tying large-scale structures together. If people are constantly hearing ram-rum-ruf, it’s harder to hear an interleaved sparse alliteration, so a poet will want to exclude that. It’s possible that Tolkien was making what he thought of as a kind of blank verse, leaving out alliteration for poetic effect, just like the way a blank-verse poet avoids rhymes.

4.3. Sparse Alliteration

Leaving out the close alliteration is a feature I’ve found in another genre. Here are four classic hip-hop songs, “C.R.E.A.M.” from the Wu-Tang Clan, “Express Yourself” from N.W.A., “Lose Yourself” from Eminem, and “Make Tracks” from US3. West Coast, East Coast, Detroit, and the U.K. The reference line in red is the same as before, scaled for the size of each sample. All of these songs have a deficit at 0, and 1. The Americans continue the deficit up to 4 or 5 syllables, but the Brits hit the curve at 3. I’m disappointed that US3 didn’t turn out to have a stronger Old English influence. That would have been fun, but numbers are merciless.

Four bar graphs with the same red reference line. For small intervals, the bars are all below the line.

Figure 7. Frequency graphs for four hip-hop songs.

North Atlantic hip-hop basically doesn’t alliterate. It happens, but less often than standard English prose. Like Dwarves, rappers de-emphasize close alliteration. Their verses are short, dominated by rhymes crammed tightly together. There’s no need to bind together a long alexandrine or anything, so they don’t use alliteration for that purpose. Besides, when a rhyme comes every four or five syllables, it’s hard to alliterate on top of it without just saying the same word again. After Jacob Edmond’s talk this morning, highlighting repetition as a form of alliteration in Caribbean verse, I wonder if this might not be an explicit intention of the rap poets.

4.4. Ranking poems by median interval

I’ve been saying the word “compare” a lot, but I haven’t given a direct standard yet. These histograms are important when we’re dealing with small sample sizes like a poem, but it’s hard to compare them directly. For that, we need a single metric. I propose to use the median of the distribution of intervals. Medians are good because they don’t depend on the exact value of long intervals that I’ve cut off of these histograms. And because my poet friends said they wanted a graph that showed how alliterative a poem is, this graph shows the inverse of the median.

Horizontal bar graph. The bars increase smoothly from 0.09 to 0.2 in length. Then there's a jump up to 0.4 - 0.5 for the Old English verses.

Figure 8. Alliterative density of a set of poems.

This shows a sampling of verse that has already been identified as alliterative and some that isn’t. Paul Deane’s alliteration.net website has a great selection of poetry, some of which is more faithful to the Old English and Old Norse forms and some which is more modern and free-form. From this archive, I selected some poems that Paul has previously flagged if they’re faithful to an old form. Then I picked a few others that aren’t and a few non-alliterative Tolkien poems. The prose samples are in green and the rappers are in red. Last, in keeping with my conviction that literary theory should always be tested with literary experiments, I’ve included a poem by Rio Wulfmare, a fellow member on the “Forgotten Ground Regained” listserv, written precisely for the purpose of superposing an alliterative melody over metered rhymes.

The first thing to see is that when we rank the more-or-less poetic samples by density, they fall into natural groupings. At the bottom we have the Old English forms. Just above them are the Middle and Modern English poetic forms, with our Norse example mixed in because formal Old Norse poetry has other things going on besides the alliteration. Higher up are Tolkien’s non-alliterative poems. Prose is near the top, but not at it. The rappers have the lowest alliterative density. I spent quite a while looking around Ireland and anglophone Africa for writers who are unaffected by Anglo-Saxon traditions, without great success, but there was one right under my nose all along. The West-African/Celtic fusion from which American pop music sprang turns out to be the counterweight to Anglo-Saxon poetics.

A ranking that makes intuitive sense is further than my 20th-century predecessors in feeding poems to computers usually get. Their rankings are all mixed together, and they’ll often have something like Vachel Lindsay’s “The Congo” at the top.
The second thing to notice is that there’s not a clean break between poems that alliterate and those that don’t, with one exception: none of these poems has a median of 3 or 4 syllables, which would put them between .25 and .33 on the graph.

a similar bar graph, as described, with the 3, 6, and 9 called out.

Figure 9. Frequency graph for “Children of Dusk”.

“Children of Dusk”, our literary experiment, is sitting between the old-school alliterative poems and the modern revival poems. Mr. Wulfmare set out with the intention of writing a two-level poem that exactly matches the melody-plus-continuo hypothesis. On its graph we can see more structure than most poems show: The usual spike at zero & 1 that says we’re in Old English alliteration, but then there’s a deficit at 2 and a spike at 3, a deficit at 5 and a spike at 6, and a deficit at 8 and a (tiny) spike at 9. Then we run up against the limits because we run out of poem.

4.5. The “Main Sequence”

Here’s one last graph, of an unexpected result. I asked, How many of the possible alliterative sounds does a poem use? These samples are all pretty much the same length. There’s a general trend – the tighter the alliteration, the fewer consonants of the set of 28 get used by the text. The two outliers are Tolkien rhymed poems. It’s almost like alliteration is draining attention away from some other, less fortunate sound.

This scatter plot has the names of the poems arrayed according to the two variables. They cluster around a straight line upward to the right.

Figure 10. Scatter plot of sounds used vs alliterative interval.

5. Conclusion

In conclusion, this work has built upon a long tradition of numerical analysis of poetry. The tools we have now for language processing make it easy to investigate the distribution of alliteration within a poem, whether the poet has foregrounded it or not. This method is very simple; looking at histograms and picking out the median is as basic as you can get. I did some high-powered Bayesian analysis using Stan; it gave me better uncertainty estimates, but the story was the same. Apart from that, calibrating the baseline was the most statistically difficult part. Despite the lack of sophistication, the method can rank texts according to how they use alliteration, and the results seem correct: Different kinds of alliterative verse are stratified as we’d expect. Prose on one end, strict Old English on the other, middle-english in between Old and Modern. Spurious alliteration that comes from structural repetition in formal metered verse has a clear signal in the histogram, which resolves the weakest part of Skinner’s original treatment.

That horizontal bar graph was a surprise. I was expecting the analysis to show me that some poems are alliterative and some are not, but that’s not what came out. Instead, it shows that some poems are strict Old English, but those that aren’t have a lot of variety. Modern alliterative-revival verse lies on a continuum. We’re trying everything. With one exception – that gap at 3 or 4 syllables might present an opportunity. Maybe a hexametric expanded version of Old English longlines? I’ll leave that to a poet.

So what?

This is a method that works on small samples, where parametric statistics are overwhelmed by “noise” as scientists call it, or “technique” as poets think of it. The ideas are 50 years old; the difference here is that combining the statistics with natural-language processing, incorporating the rules of English stress, removes a lot of the noise that interfered with the letter-based methods a couple of generations ago.

When I started my project of quantitative analysis of literature, my goal was to find ways that graphs and numbers and maps can increase readers’ enjoyment of whatever they’re reading. Now, the world contains quite a few nerds who are delighted just to see things in graphs, and for … us … this is already an interesting contribution. But it’s really just the first few steps. The more I’ve learned about Old English, the more I’ve come to see that its old music is still with us today. If Price is right, though they can be hard to see and hear, they’re what makes modern poetry possible. I hope to extend this method to find out how to alert readers when an ancient tradition is still alive and playing a new role in a modernized form.

The “Main Sequence” is intriguing: There’s no reason in principle that alliterative poems couldn’t use the same range of consonants as any other sample of similar size, but they don’t. Next up is to figure out if this is true in general, or just for the poems I happened to choose. It’s possibility that alliterative verse might be as much about the sounds poets omit, as about the ones they use. Richard Bailey stated in his 1971 review that “readers can’t hear the sounds that aren’t there.”(Bailey) It will be fun to put that to the test.


Works Cited

Bailey, Richard W. “Statistics and the Sounds of Poetry.” Poetics, vol. 1, no. 1, Jan. 1971, pp. 16–37. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/0304-422X(71)90003-9.
Goldhahn, D., et al. “Building Large Monolingual Dictionaries at the Leipzig Corpora Collection: From 100 to 200 Languages.” Proceedings of the 8th International Language Resources and Evaluation, 2012.
Goldsmith, Ulrich K. “Words out of a Hat? ‘Alliteration and Assonance in Shakespeare’s Sonnets.’” The Journal of English and Germanic Philology, vol. 49, no. 1, 1950, pp. 33–48. JSTOR.
Greenberg, Nathan A. “Aspects of Alliteration: A Statistical Study.” Latomus, vol. 39, no. 3, 1980, pp. 585–611.
Headley, Maria Dahvana. Beowulf : A New Translation. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2020.
Heaney, Seamus, editor. Beowulf: A New Verse Translation. 1st bilingual ed, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2000.
Jackson, Elizabeth. “The Quantitative Measurement of Assonance and Alliteration in Swinburne.” The American Journal of Psychology, vol. 55, no. 1, 1942, pp. 115–23, https://doi.org/10.2307/1417038. JSTOR.
Leavitt, Jay A. “On the Measurement of Alliteration in Poetry.” Computers and the Humanities, vol. 10, no. 6, 1976, pp. 333–42.
Pound, Ezra. “The Seafarer.” The Poetry Foundation, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44917/the-seafarer. Accessed 16 June 2025.
Price, Thomas R. “The Technic of Shakespere’s Sonnets.” Studies in Honor of Basil L. Gildersleeve, Johns Hopkins Press, 1902, pp. 363–75.
Rudnicky, Alex. CMU Pronouncing Dictionary. 0.7b, http://www.speech.cs.cmu.edu/cgi-bin/cmudict.
Skinner, B. F. “Alliteration in Shakespeare’s Sonnets: A Study in Literary Behavior.” The Psychological Record, vol. 3, 1939, p. 185.
Tolkien, J. R. R. The Collected Poems of J.R.R. Tolkien. Edited by Christina Scull and Wayne G. Hammond, William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 2024.
—. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Edited by Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, Revised and Expanded edition, William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 2023.
Wise, Dennis Wilson, editor. Speculative Poetry and the Modern Alliterative Revival: A Critical Anthology. Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2024.

Tolkien’s Empty Chapel

Tolkien’s Collected Poems contains several we’ve never seen before. One of them is a bit surprising.  Number 36 is a half-finished piece called “The Empty Chapel”, written in 1915 while JRRT was in basic training before shipping out to the front. One stanza in particular jumped out at me from Page 226:

Lo, war is in your nostrils and your heart
And burning with just anger as of old
Though stunted in dark places far from God
Though cheated and deluded and oppressed
Arise you, O ye blind and dumb to war
Come open your eyes and glorify your God
Come sing a hymn of honour to your Queen.

When I read that, I thought that Tolkien was right there with Wilfred Owen among the World War 1 poets. I heard echoes of “Dulce et Decorum Est“, and could hear irony dripping from them. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that kind of voice from Tolkien before.  Yes. About that. It’s important to read poems more than once, and this is why. On third reading, I see that Tolkien was completely sincere. The “Queen” is the virgin Mary, about whom Tolkien would never have been less than reverent. This wouldn’t have worked out well for him.

The survivors of WW1 would become Gertrude Stein’s “Lost Generation”.1 Earnest poems about how the destruction wrought by the war somehow brings glory to god would fall flat on any reader’s ear. So how to oppose the ironic disillusionment of the Zeitgeist? Blank verse stating the opposite of everyone else won’t do. As well be shot for a sheep as for a lamb, and write poems about Faërie.

Un Changeable

Tom Hillman is taking on another of the big questions. This time it’s Fate, and how Turin relates to it.2 He calls out the line from “Beowulf”: “Fate often keeps an unfey man safe when his courage avails.”

I’ve taken a couple of courses from Tom Shippey in which he brought up that line. Usually with a comment like, “That’s not much of a fate, if you can avoid it with a bit of courage.”  When he’s being more formal3, he says

… people are not under the domination of wyrd, which is why “fate” is not a good translation of it. People can “change their luck”, and can in a way say “No” to divine Providence, though of course if they do they have to stand by the consequences of their decision.

The Road to Middle-Earth, Chapter 5

I suspect that wyrd isn’t the only word here whose meaning has slipped over the last thousand years. The word unfaege, produced from the word for “fey”, also has the prefix “un-“. When I first learned Old English, it jumped out at me that “un-” isn’t quite what it used to be. In most words, it means what modern speakers expect, but there are plenty of words where it doesn’t. Unweder, “un-weather”,is a storm. Unweod, “un-grass”, is a weed, as is unwyrt. Uncræft, “un-craft”, is an evil art. Unbletsung, “un-blessing” is not the absence of a blessing, but a curse.

The “un-” prefix seems also to have meant “wrong” or “the opposite of what you wanted”. Is it possible that unfaege, “un-fey”, might have meant something like “doomed to something else”?  Then the Beowulf poet would have meant, “If wyrd has something else in mind for a man, he’ll come through this one safely as long as he keeps his courage.” With the implication that a coward can screw up even the fate of the world, so don’t be one.


 

True vs. Useful

The difference between the concept of “truth” in the sciences and the humanities is endlessly fascinating. I’ve bloviated about it before, in the context of research progress. But another instance came to me recently as I was reading a book called Affective Ecologies4.

schematic neuron

We use neurons when we reflect, so, maybe?

The book is about how the reader’s psychological affect is the channel by which literature affects our attitudes about the events related in a story. Prof. WvM takes the idea of “mirror neurons” and runs with it, treating mirror neurons as the physiological mechanism underlying readers’ empathy. All well and good, except, well, the mirror-neuron hypothesis seems not to be true. When it was conceived a few decades ago, it was greeted with excitement, but as people have looked at it more closely, it seems to flunk a couple of tests. That’s a shame — had the hypothesis panned out, it might have led to therapies that could have helped almost everyone on the autism spectrum.

Prof. WvM introduces the idea of mirror neurons on page 23. On page 25, she acknowledges that there are problems.

“Needless to say, the use of mirror neuron research in literary studies does have its caveats. As Kuzmičová points out, “in each attempt at fusing literary theoretical speculation with experimental cognitive science, one could identify a host of methodological problems, starting from the fact that the stimuli used in cognitive experiments usually do not bear the slightest resemblance to literary narrative”. Like Kuzmičová, I have chosen to accept most of these problems as a natural part of any interdisciplinary inquiry.”

That last line is what got me intrigued. With my scientist’s hat on, if I find one of the premises of my research is wrong, I go get a new premise. But maybe this book has a different purpose. Could it be that there’s a value to carrying out the train of logic to a conclusion, even if the starting place isn’t true? I suppose it’s reasonable to presume that something must be the physiological basis for empathy. Almost nothing of the argument depends on specifics of biology, so once the correct mechanism is discovered, the argument here can be carried over directly.

This is an interesting role for the humanities: the repository of all ideas, whether they work or not. It certainly explains why it’s necessary to keep incorrect concepts around and make grad students learn them and cite them, as I was complaining about in the older post.

Owen Barfield and the Necessity of Rap

A thing from Poetic Diction5 has stuck with me since my last reading. Owen Barfield doesn’t challenge the idea that verse began as rhythm. I, like most timid thinkers, think rhythm was there to aid the poet’s recall, but Barfield extends it further. He says rhythm is intrinsic to Nature, indeed to our own bodies: “We can only understand the origin of metre by going back to the ages when men were conscious, not merely in their heads, but in the beating of their hearts!”6

it's not easy to come up with an iconographic emblem for "poetry"But he also notes a problem, as history goes on and languages change: those ancient languages used inflection instead of word order to convey meaning, which is very handy for a poet. If you need to adhere to a meter you can just rearrange the words however you need them. But as languages mature, word order becomes more important, so that putting  a word in an unusual place is still intelligible, but it sounds affected and archaic. Poetry gets harder to make.

Barfield suggests this is how rhyme came to be. It’s a much more flattering idea to a rhymer than the usual. He says there’s a general trend: Poets tend to lose ground to writers of prose, as word order becomes more strict. For an extreme example, nobody’s writing physics papers in verse any more, as Lucretius did with De rerum naturae. So poets need something else to add to their verses. Barfield suggests it’s music. “Music (if one can use a fraction here) may comprise perhaps as much as half the meaning of a modern lyric.” Modern meaning post-medieval.

He’s thinking of rhyme, first: “in rhyme we are face to face with the development, at a comparatively late date, of an entirely new system of versification.” To which he adds changing uses of sound in general, explicitly mentioning alliteration and assonance, claiming that they were “unknown to the ancients”.  I don’t agree that alliteration and assonance are quite what he’s saying they are. As I’m sure he knew from drinking beer with Tolkien,7 alliteration was there first as far as English poetry is concerned. But I’m more interested in the modernist experiments in sound that were under way in the 20th Century, such as the Sitwells were doing. Barfield saw the trend away from classical poetry to music happening around him, and didn’t see it stopping. That definitely turned out to be correct.

Which leads us to a path I’ve trodden before. Those modernist experiments in the UK fused with the afro-celtic musical innovations happening in America8 to create rap music in the last quarter of the century. By now, “as much as half of the meaning” is now “basically all”. Chapter IX of Poetic Diction closes with this: “It would be pure fantasy to attempt to prescribe in advance what  uses man himself shall henceforth make of the material element in language.” Barfield lived until 1997, so he overlapped hip-hop by two decades. I wonder if he ever heard a rapper. And if he did, did he recognize his prediction coming true?

ETA: this is a re-posting of an essay from May that has mysteriously vanished from the database.

Notes

Information, Data, Information

I’m catching up with A Collection of Unmitigated Pedantry. They have a guest post from James Baillie about prosopography from a few weeks ago. I did not know that prosopography has expanded from family relationships to more general connections. In fact, it seems to have crossed over into graph analysis. I hope they have taken Frank Harary’s appeal to heart and aren’t just drawing pictures, but are also using the mathematical power of a graph.

There’s interesting stuff there about medieval Georgia9, but the larger point Baillie gets across is about data-driven historical research: “a data structure or a block of code are things that make implicit and subjective arguments about how to see the world.” This is a good point, which I’ve lived in another context. In our modern world, data are everywhere. The job of combining data and synthesizing information from them employs a lot of people.

A historian has to do the reverse task as well, though. The evidence that we are given from the past is not data, pace10 the dictionary, we aren’t given data; we’re given information. We have immensely-powerful tools for processing digital data, which everyone should apply wherever they can. In order to exploit the power of data processing, though, a lot of human thought has to go into creating the database.

This is the way it used to be. The word “analysis” referred to the step where observations of the real world were cut up into data, then “synthesis” was how we reassembled the data into a theoretical framework.11 Our world of ubiquitous surveillance has greatly reduced the first step, causing us to put the lion’s share of our effort into the second. If we’re not careful we can lose sight of all the thought that needs to go into observation and analysis, and misinterpret what we’re seeing when we look at the synthesis. Good job by Baillie putting out that reminder.


 

Idiosophical Tag Cloud

I’ve just handed in my essay for Gardeners of the Galaxies. But before I did, I ran it through the JSTOR Text Analyzer to see if there was anything I’d missed. It found me a paper I’d never heard of that was relevant enough to include.

In the process it produced a list of relevant tags. My first reaction to it was, “What in the world did I just write?” My second reaction was, “Mission Accomplished!”

topics covered in the essay

The secret of a strong field of research

Boethius looks depressed about how much work writing a philosophical tract is turning out to be

Boethius is about to get schooled

Last year, Brenton Dickieson wrote a series of blog posts asking the question, “Why is Tolkien Scholarship Stronger than Lewis Scholarship?”  The third post gives a number of hypotheses that may answer the question, but no definite conclusion was reached. The discussion in those posts, and the comments that follow them, is much better informed than I can be. However, I can always contribute to the low end of a scholarly debate.

The Idiosopher’s Razor: When several hypotheses are consistent with the evidence, the least dignified one is to be preferred.12

I’ve recently been researching criticism of Poul Anderson’s science fiction. A lot of people named “Anderson” have written books,13 which means that the first step answering any question, at the moment, is making sure I’ve got the right Anderson. It’s the literary equivalent of the “data cleaning” problem in statistics. It’s a huge part of the work in studying anything, C.S. Lewis for example. That’s a trans-disciplinary fact. And don’t even get me started about “Charles Williams”!

This is a problem that Tolkien scholars never have. Anybody writing about anyone named “Tolkien” is certain to be relevant. Looking up Tolkien is a lot easier than looking up Anderson, Lewis, or whomever. Eliminating a laborious step in the research lowers one of the barriers to getting the paper written. Applying our Razor, we can slice away many hypotheses in favor of pure laziness. Tolkien papers are easier to research, so there will be more of them, and the best of a larger group will often be better than the best of a smaller group, such as the papers about Lewis.

I think I just understood Shakespeare scholarship, too.


 

J.R.R. Tolkien and Eminem make common cause

This is Part 2 of my presentation at Mythmoot VII. Part 1 is here. Part 1 was the mathematical treatment; this is the humanities context.

This paper grew out of Prof. Olsen’s explication of Eminem last year. I took upon myself the mission to figure out why Tolkien fans should like Eminem. Paradoxically enough, it’s because Tolkien was a reactionary.  It’s common to hear critics use that word about him. (Google Scholar returns over 2,000 hits.) But everybody elides one detail: Against what was he reacting? Well, in technology or theology, practically everything, but in terms of poetry, I think I’ve found a specific person.

Introducing Edith Sitwell

edith sitwell and marilyn monroe

Celebrities

Dame Edith Sitwell was a character. A classic English eccentric. Wealthy as sin, six feet tall, thin as an icicle, descended from the Plantagenet royal family. She was a bit older than Tolkien, so she was a presence in the English literary scene when he was in his 20s and 30s. Emphasis on the word “scene” — Photographers loved photographing her, and she loved to be photographed, so she was a pioneer of the publicity-driven life we see so much of today.  This photo is the level of celebrity we’re talking about: She and Marilyn apparently took to each other immediately.

edith sitwell in the 1920s

As a medieval illumination

The second photo is what she looked like at the beginning of her fame as a writer, in the early 1920s. This is the time at which she would have come to the attention of the Inklings, the way she came to the attention of absolutely everyone.

I like this photo because she looks like she just climbed out of an illuminated manuscript. It’s easy to imagine her among her 12th Century ancestors.

Façade

The work I want to talk about is called Façade.[1] It’s a series of poems intended to be spoken aloud from a stage, set to music by a very young Sir William Walton. The poems frequently are titled with reference to music or dance: “Tarantella”, “Fox Trot”, “Country Dance”, “Hornpipe” … Edith and her brothers Osbert and Sacheverell would write poems, then they would set up a screen in their parlor, and read the verse aloud from behind the screen. The verse was mostly nonsense. “It’s all a bloody façade!” said their housekeeper one day, so Edith named the whole piece accordingly.

performance screen

Performance screen designed by John Piper

Façade is subtitled “An Entertainment”, and it’s fun to imagine what the audience thought they were in for when they walked into the theater. There on the stage were a few chairs, a piccolo, two trumpets, a saxophone, two cellos, and an array of percussion. Behind it all was a screen painted with a face whose mouth is a megaphone. The poems get read through the megaphone. They’re not sung, though performers sometimes try. If you look around YouTube you’ll see what a bad idea singing them can be. I like the way Paul Driver put it: “It is not so clear for what kind of non-singer Facade was conceived.” [2] Well, you’re about to find out.

This is what C.S. Lewis called “The gibberish literature of the Lunatic Twenties” in The Pilgrim’s Regress. [3] I can’t find any time that J.R.R. Tolkien mentioned the Sitwells, but Lewis was there to pick up the cudgel. At least one reviewer identifies the Sitwells as one of the inspirations for the “Clevers” in Lewis’s book.

Anyway, love her or hate her, I’m calling her the “Anti-Tolkien” here. What does it mean to be the “Anti-Tolkien”? Well, like matter and anti-matter, you have to have a lot of things in common, but disagree on one or two fundamentals. Both Sitwell and Tolkien were Modernists, but they pushed back against some of the basics of Modernism. A nice paper by Demoor, Posman, and Van Durme [4] put this part of the Modernist project in musical terms. To start at the beginning: The most inclusive definition of of “music” is “sounds arranged in time”. The arrangement can go two ways. Melody is the part of music that goes along with the flow of time; Harmony goes perpendicular to time. Modernism devalued melody and emphasized experimental harmony. Tolkien and Sitwell both thought the melody was the important part. They were united in the belief that language could and should be musical, but what that music ought to be about is where they parted company.

I’ve put the relevant areas of agreement and disagreement into a table.

Tolkien Sitwell  Eminem
English Yes Yes No
Edwardian Yes Yes No
Poet Yes Yes No
Drawing from country life Yes Yes No
Inspired by Classical mythology Yes Yes No
Scenic depictions of darkness Yes Yes No
World War 1 Yes Yes No
Hunting shows up in odd places Yes Yes No
Importance of musicality in poems Yes Yes No
Respect for the traditions they’re appropriating Yes No Yes
Poems should make sense Yes No Yes
Structured rhyme Depends No No

The big difference comes in their relationship to their inspirations. Sitwell is frankly imperialist, though she can see the end of Empire coming up soon. That’s actually the meaning of “Hornpipe”, which I just recited, but the tempo of the piece makes it invisible until you sit down and read it line by line and try to figure out if it’s really nonsense or not. Like any imperialist, she thinks of her source material as a resource to be exploited. She doesn’t care whether in reality a Hottentot is hot or not — all she wants is the sound of the words. Dame Edith definitely did not take Prof. Sturgis’s advice about how to write other cultures.

By contrast, when Tolkien takes inspirations from north-western English villagers, it’s with genuine affection. He notes their flaws, but likes them anyway. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins is the clearest case.[5] When he’s done telling the story, we see that things that are flaws in one context sometimes turn out to be great strengths in another.

This leads directly to their second area of disagreement. Nonsense verse can be a lot of fun, but it’s rarely respectful. (That’s why I like it so much.) Tolkien occasionally wrote a tra-la-lally or a ring-a-dong-dillo, but only as a brief insertion into an otherwise intelligible sentence. Which, of course, is entirely consistent with English folk song. As Professor Flieger mentioned Friday, Tolkien is “longing for a lost and irretrievable past.” Sitwell is, to put it mildly, not.

Looking at the last column, Eminem and Dame Edith look like almost exact opposites, but their ears for rhyme have a lot in common. To understand the relationship, we’ll need a way to make the scattered rhymes of their verses visible, which means we have to dig into some rhyme measurement.

Rhymometry

William Harmon, in his wonderful history of English versification,[6] says Rhyme is lowbrow. Classical verse generally doesn’t rhyme in Greek, Latin, Sanskrit, Hebrew… Verse in old Germanic languages doesn’t rhyme either. It’s like Rhyme conveys a sense of frivolity, a lack of seriousness. Rhyming verse is down in the gutter, amusing the plebs. You know what rhymes? Light verse almost always rhymes. (Tom Hillman and I have written light alliterative verse, but it’s a really obscure niche.) And what’s more, the rhymes have to be perfect or it’s not funny. (This will come in later when the rappers join us.) The idea of rhyme as Art (capital A) only existed for a few centuries in English.

Rhyming verse came into respectability in English because the language was shifting from synthetic-suffixal to analytic-prefixal. That’s Harmon again; I don’t use words like that. The way it looked to me in high-school foreign language classes was “everything rhymes!” The French/Germanic fusion we were all speaking in the High Middle Ages was different, though. It put Chaucer in a position to grab two innovations and run with them: iambic rhythm and masculine rhyme. Or, as Prof. Olsen put it yesterday, the “single-syllable terminal rhymes” that would one day be the foundation of rap.

Two centuries later, Shakespeare was solidly in this respectable-rhyme world, but he’s already using enjambment to undercut the importance of the rhymes. “Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments” – without seeing the rest of the sonnet, you’d never know which word of that sentence was the rhyme. By two centuries after Shakespeare, we were back to looking askance at rhyme.

But still, even with Chaucerian/Shakespearean pedigree, rhyme has a taint of the common people about it. It’s not serious. Which brings us to Eminem. Hip-hop is all about rhymes. Hip-hop poets even call their works “rhymes”, not “verses” or “poems” or “lyrics”, but what they consider a rhyme isn’t perfect (unless they’re trying to be funny). They use assonances, consonances, and other kinds of slant rhyme instead.

How rhyme is used

Part 1 of this paper showed graphically that the Modernists of the 1920s resemble the hip-hop rhymers of the 21st Century in their use of bursts of slant and mosaic rhyme. But I promised that there was a fight going on. What is the argument? What are these poets disagreeing about? We need to look at what each is doing with their art.

Eminem is trying to elevate hip-hop to an artistic genre. Rap is unquestionably lowbrow, with a few people trying to elevate the form from its natural habitat on the sidewalk to something higher. Their individual purposes differ. Chuck D is trying to motivate political action. Eminem does that sometimes, but usually he’s trying to exorcise personal demons, like any Romantic. As the musicologist Robert Greenberg says, “In many ways, we’re still in the Romantic period,” and that fits perfectly here.

You don’t have to listen to a work of hip-hop for very long before you hear the word “respect”. That’s what all rappers want. Eminem is making verse that tries to get respect from the highbrows, while staying entirely within the idiom of the street.

Dame Edith didn’t need any more respect. Her status was as sure as the Thain of the Shire’s. She was mining lowbrow amusements for form, just as she was mining the empire for sounds. She agreed with Tolkien that the current forms were becoming hidebound, and she re-vitalized them by bringing in this low-brow infusion. She might even have said, “The inhabitants were too stupid and dull for words, and an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them.”[7] Everyone was shocked by the result, which was exactly what she wanted. In a sense, she was pushing the highbrows downward.

Tolkien was embracing the lowbrow for its own sake. He wasn’t gentrifying rhyme, he was celebrating it. Like Beethoven writing country dances, he’s showing his audience the merit in the simple people. At the same time, he’s trying to revitalize highbrow verse with an infusion of bucolic vitality. When the highbrow and lowbrow sides of culture are too separated, art stagnates. True vitality comes from free exchange between the sides of culture. Like Eminem, Tolkien wanted to create art by lifting up the bottom of society. Dame Edith Sitwell wanted to go the other way, bringing the high down to the low. And the war between the brows isn’t really as disconnected as it looked at first. Tolkien has become so popular that there are  highbrows who look down on him. Especially since the Jackson movies made a billion dollars, there’s a nimbus of the lowbrow around the Lord of the Rings.

Artists frequently describe their work as in conversation with those who have gone before, but the conversation can go only one way. JRRT couldn’t respond to hip-hop for obvious reasons, so what this work has accomplished is to identify an analogous contemporaneous situation to which he clearly related, and restore a bit of symmetry. This, then, is my conclusion. A Tolkien fan who likes hip-hop can be entirely consistent with the artistic missions of both.

 


Works Cited

[1] Sitwell, Edith. Façade and other poems, 1920-1935. Gerald Duckworth & Co. Ltd., 1950.

[2] Driver, Paul. “‘Façade Revisited.” Tempo (1980): 3-9.

[3] Lewis, Clive Staples. The pilgrim’s regress. Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2014.

[4] Demoor, Marysa, Sarah Posman, and Debora Van Durme. “Literary modernism and melody: an avant-propos.” Texas Studies in Literature and Language 55.1 (2013): 31-35.

[5] Tolkien, J.R.R The Lord of the Rings. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2002. VI,ix.

[6] Harmon, William. “English versification: fifteen hundred years of continuity and change.” Studies in Philology 94.1 (1997): 1-37.

[7] Tolkien, op.cit., I,ii.

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