Idiosophy

A physicist loose among the liberal arts

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.

Goethe gets it

The simplest shapesOccasionally I wonder how valuable computerized analysis of works of literature will ever be. To reassure me that I’m not wasting my time, Jan Christoph Meister tells me1 what Johann Wolfgang von Goethe thought:

Goethe discusses the pros and cons of morphology as a science, and eventually concludes: “Its arrangement of phenomena calls upon activities of the mind so in harmony with human nature, and so pleasant, that even failures may prove both useful and charming.”

The citation is to a translation of Goethe’s collected works. 2 If we want the old man to be saying something about the study of literature, we’re making an analogy, because Goethe is talking about morphology as an essential predecessor to what we now call “biology” (because he was right). Literally, he’s talking about the study of form without regard to function, which is all my programs can do with poetry. I like even better the sentences just before Meister’s quotation.

The advantages of morphology are that it is made up of widely recognized elements, it does not conflict with any theory, it does not need to displace something else to make room for itself, and it deals with extremely significant phenomena.

That sounds like a feasible goal for a small project like mine. This connection across 220 years shows that once again it’s useful to be, as the philosopher Adam Ant phrased it, “an eighteenth-century brain, in a twenty-first-century head.”

Generative AI: the monsters and the critics

Daniel Stride, kiwi clarissimus, points us to a YouTuber who does a not-bad job of speculating on what JRR Tolkien would have thought about generative AI. A useful application of AI would be to turn that 20-minute talking-head video into a blog post I could read in five. A really useful application of AI would be to take a video of a conference presentation and turn it into a written document of what I wished I’d said. But I digress. What was I talking about? Oh, yes.

“Girl Next Gondor” thinks that JRRT would have seen Large Language Models as a vindication of his ideas about language in “On Fairy-stories”: that we can abstract the word “green” from grass and “sun” from the sky and conceive of a “green sun”, which is the fundamental act of fantasy. That’s pretty close to what LLMs do. When the temperature is low, they only connect green with green things, but if you turn the temperature higher the model will connect adjectives with a much more diverse set of nouns.

Daniel kind of agrees, but notes that of the various kinds of magic, LLMs do not engage in the good kind. They don’t produce enchantment, because there is no enchanter. The person thinking of the fantastical situation is writing a prompt of a few dozen words, not, say, a novel. The resulting block of text is not really a work of art. LLMs produce a kind of mindless, inescapable magic in which we blunder around. We are not enchanted; maybe the word “emprompted” could be coined and pressed into service.

I’m less optimistic. Tolkien saw this coming — at his “Hobbit Dinner” in Amsterdam in 1958 he said, “the Age of Paper is ending; the Age of the Gadget begins.” Looking around the world, he said “… I see that Saruman has many descendants.” LLMs are definitely the work of one of those. As is generally the case, an LLM “cannot make, not real new things of its own.” [LR 6.01.109] It just twists existing language to whatever purpose it’s given. But we know what a maker of twisted language is in the Legendarium: that’s the essence of dragons. Like Glaurung, an LLM assembles words to achieve its goal without regard for truth. The goal for an LLM is maximizing likelihood conditional on the prompt, where the goal of the dragon was ruining Hurin’s life, but the effect can be the same. 

Why would something as innocuous as maximizing a function turn out as evil as a dragon? In Letter 153 to Peter Hastings, Tolkien was talking about military contractors developing weapons, but the words he used sound painfully applicable to the LLM-mania of our current crop of tech oligarchs. They may not be intrinsically evil, but “things being as they are, and the nature and motives of the economic masters who provide all the means for their work being as they are, are pretty certain to serve evil ends.”

The sort of title that brings readers into the bookstore

This is the finest title of a scholarly volume that I have ever encountered, and I feel sure it has not since been surpassed:

Studies in Honor of Basil L. Gildersleeve.

Anything using the name “Gildersleeve” is going to be aesthetically pleasing, but putting it into dactylic tetrameter makes it a work of genius.

Three Rings against progress

I just re-read That Hideous Strength by C. S. Lewis for the first time since I started studying the Inklings. It’s a completely different experience, now that I know the subtexts of what he’s talking about. Everyone gets the “Numinor” references, but for someone who’s read Owen Barfield and Charles Williams, the book turns out to be stuffed with easter eggs. 3 This line jumped out at me particularly: “… they had all, by various routes, come too far either to consider [Merlin’s] art mere legend and imposture, or to equate it exactly with what the Renaissance called Magic.” (p.200) It reminded me of Galadriel’s line, “this is what your folk would call magic. I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem also to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy.” (LR2.07.080) That change in the meaning of the word “magic” is intriguing. Galadriel comes from an earlier Age than the hobbits. She’s from the Elder Days, whereas the Shire is post-medieval.4 Hobbits think and talk like we do. Therefore, they use the word “magic” in a way she doesn’t get. Galadriel’s line emphasizes her distance from them, as if it needed more emphasis.

a line drawing of Leonardo's "Lady with an Ermine".

Not here! by Olena Panasovska

Galadriel has a Ring that she uses “to preserve all things unstained”. That’s Elrond’s phrasing (LR2.02.240), but “on the land of Lorien there was no stain,” (LR2.06.160) so Galadriel and Elrond are of one mind on this. What kind of stain are they talking about? Lewis’s line gave me a new way to read that: the stain is Renaissance rationalism, the kind that gave us the twin children Science and Magic. Galadriel is preserving a pre-modern concept of Nature that doesn’t have a place for Early Modern concepts like those. She is using her Ring to make sure that there will be no Renaissance while she has the power to prevent it. She’s not alone: Elrond is called a “lore-master” by Denethor (who should know). A lore-master is a worthwhile person to have around, but he doesn’t create new knowledge like a scientist does. Rivendell has libraries, but I’d be surprised if it had a laboratory. And Gandalf, who held the third Ring, delivered a memorable warning against foolish scientism.5

I have learned, whenever I get an idea for one of these bloviations, to check what Tom Shippey has to say on the topic. (He’s always there before me.) He extracts from the Inklings’ writings an opposition of magia, goeteia, scientism, and religion.6 That Hideous Strength is about goeteia and scientism ganging up on religion, which defends itself successfully when it’s reinforced by Merlin’s magia. Shippey identifies a common theme among the Inklings, lamenting the loss of authority by religion as the new knowledge. That may be the stain Galadriel is talking about.

But why should she, in a world without religion as we think of it, care? Religion to her is completely irrelevant — she’s actually met most of the people a religion would be aimed at worshiping, though until Frodo’s visit, they’re not taking her calls. Why is she afraid of a Renaissance? Well, that one has already been figured out. Tolkien thought that the Renaissance (in its guise as the Age of Discovery) had put an end to Faërie by sending explorers around the globe and finding just more land and more people. He suggested that shrinking to Shakespearean proportions was their defense. Perhaps Galadriel was willing to diminish to an extent, but not all the way to flitting around an English garden on moth wings. And then, of course, will come the Enlightenment, and fairies are doomed.


 

Carbon dating ancient alien invasions

Poetry assistant and archaeologist Martin Rundqvist has published a follow-up to his last November’s post about how the standard software for carbon-dating gives its answers in an idiosyncratic way. In a nutshell, the answer to “how old is this sample” comes out with confidence intervals of 68.2% and 95.4%.7 These intervals aren’t necessarily things that make sense — they could be totally disjunct periods.  In MR’s case the interval is the union of 776-782 CE, 879-994 CE, and 1007-1012 CE. What use is that to anyone?

graph of disjoint estimate region of probable age

What happened in 776?

His latest post announces a solution to the biggest problem with that. In Bayesian terms, the person requesting the test has important prior information that shouldn’t be neglected when the results are computed. This problem has been solved by a software tweak so the scientist can put in a historical period and get out the probability that the sample came from that period. That’s how statistics ought to be done. Bravo, y’all!

One other thing about that figure got me interested, though. That wiggly gray line up top is the correction the software has to make for the background atmospheric concentration of carbon -14. Different years have different amounts of C-14 to start with, so the decay over time begins at a different place. There’s a big spike in the late eighth century. (The spike points downward because this is a correction factor.) It was strong enough to make the test conclude (against prior knowledge) that there was a chance the sample could have come from then. What’s that all about? It’s from outer space! In 2012, Fusa Miyake and her team measured the C-14 content of each individual ring in some old trees and calculated the year-by-year changes. People are still arguing over what the exact cause was: Solar flare? A passing comet? I’d put my bet on a coronal mass ejection, for what that’s worth. A feature film about radioactive Vikings is already in the script-development stage, I have no doubt.

Once again, I find myself thinking back to the days of my graduate study, and my self-pitying wails over the amount of work I had to do. Ha! All I did was sit at a desk. I didn’t have to peel ancient tree trunks, ring by ring, and if my razor blade slipped a millimeter the sample was ruined. Theoretical physicists have it easy.


 

The limits of close reading

Kobold is a torus hanging in space around a sphere. Both are green with vegetation. This is no more stable than Ringworld.

via Wikipedia

I just re-read Protector by Larry Niven in the Ballantine paperback edition.8 It’s a great example of classic science fiction. The reader is barraged with one cool idea after another. Just the thing for a nerdy teen-aged boy.

In one scene, set on the artificial moon Kobold,9 Brennan has constructed a Moebius strip that’s as wide as a sidewalk. Brennan has technology that can control gravity, which he has used to make it possible to walk on the strip and have gravity always pulling you towards the surface. A character named Alice gives it a try, and walks a lap around the strip. After that, on the bottom of Page 155, she’s referred to as “Sally”.  In the next scene, she and Roy climb the stairs in a 3-D copy of M.C. Escher’s “Relativity”, after which she is called Alice again.

This put me on high alert. “Alice” and “Sally” are the same sounds, but the consonants are flipped from places 2 and 4 to places 3 and 1. Hypothesis: Niven is playing a word-game here, where a trip around an non-orientable surface scrambled her name, then another mind-bending walk straightened it out. Lewis Carroll loved playing pranks like that on his Alice.

Sadly, no. She’s “Sally” again once on page 166. And now that I’ve noticed that, the constellation “Saggitarius” is mentioned several times, and M.C. Escher is spelled “Esher”.  It’s just a bad editing job. Oh, well. I guess close reading isn’t a universally-useful technique.


Notes

CFP: Ideas Worth Saving

Renowned Inklings scholar and Causer of Things to Happen Sørina Higgins is organizing a conference on Jan 31 & Feb 1 of next year, called “Fahrenheit 2451”, dedicated to the idea that the human race has thought of some ideas that we ought to save, no matter what disasters may befall. Which ones would you pick?

It’s in San Francisco at the Internet Archive. There are still two weeks left to get your ideas in.

 

The secret of elven-cloaks

Two thoughts that suddenly got connected.

Thought 1:

In Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings we learn that in his youth Aragorn journeyed through Rohan and Gondor and won fame under the name of Thorongil. (LR A.1.iv.63-67.) He made quite an impression on the people of those countries at the time, but a few decades later things are different. We don’t hear of any old men in Rohan who recognize him, even though he rode with Thengel, father of Theoden. Denethor apparently recognizes Aragorn through the image in his palantir, so his appearance can’t have changed too much. But then Prince Imrahil, who is of similar age, says “Shall we not now send for the Lord Aragorn?” when Aragorn is standing a few feet away. (LR 5.08.041) Imrahil doesn’t notice him until he speaks.

But here’s the thing – Aragorn is “at least 6 ft. 6.”. 10 Even great warriors like Boromir aren’t that tall. 11 How is a bean-pole like Aragorn not immediately recognized by everyone over the age of 50? His reception in Edoras should have been less laden with suspicion, and more like, “Eala, Thorongil! Long time no see! How’s the weather up there?”

Thought 2:

The odd shrinkage of Elves. Medieval fairies could be small, or very large, or human-sized. “Taking the broadest known parameters, we find that size can range from fourteen feet high to a being small enough to sit on a cowslip.” 12 Victorian fairies are uniformly tiny, though. Tolkien wondered about this in “On Fairy-stories”. 13

As for diminutive size: I do not deny that the notion is a leading one in modern use. I have often thought that it would be interesting to try to find out how that has come to be so; but my knowledge is not sufficient for a certain answer.

The Professor goes on to speculate that elves started to shrink during the Age of Discovery, when Europeans sailed all around the world and found no Faërie anywhere. In order for Elves to continue to be a thing people could believe in, they needed to be able to hide from view. It was advantageous for them to shrink. The process was exactly parallel to evolutionary pressure: just as squirrels are now the right size to fit through the holes in a chain-link fence, Elves met the challenge by shrinking until they could hide practically anywhere, even behind garden flowers.

Synthesis:

Evolution by natural selection is tempting, but it is fraught with difficulties when we’re dealing with immortal creatures. Fortunately, there’s an easier answer, provided by Tolkien himself. The way the cloaks of Lothlorien hide you from view must be to make you look short. Otherwise, there’s no way Aragorn could have maintained his anonymity while standing half a head above everyone around. Apparently it’s not just Galadriel and her maidens who can make those; it’s a common skill among Elves. Maybe it’s the only way they know to make clothes. It also explains the cloaks’ preternatural effectiveness in getting Sam and Frodo to Mount Doom — knock a foot off the perceived height of hobbits and they’re just barely macroscopic.

I’m not just making this up. Let’s jump over to “Smith of Wootton Major”.14 Alf’s dramatic revelation at the end:

’Would you spare a few moments for the King of Faery?’ the other answered. To Nokes’s dismay he grew taller as he spoke. He threw back his cloak.”

In 1939, Prof. Tolkien’s knowledge was not sufficient, but by 1967 he had figured it out.


 

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