su-mârutam nă brahmânăm arhǎse, sriye maryasah añgîn akrinvata, âdityasah te akrâh' nă văvridhuh || 3. pra ye dĭvah prithivyāh na barhanā, tmanâ ririkre abhrât na suryah pāgāsvantah nă vîrāh 'panasyavah, risâdasah na maryâh abhi-dyavah || 4. yushmākām budhne apam na yamani, vithuryati na mahi sratharyati visva-psuh yagñah arvak ayam su vah, prayasvantah nă satrākāh ā gātā ■ 5. yũyam dhāh-să pră-yugah' na rasmi-bhih, gyotishmantah na bhâsâ vi-ushtishu 1 syenasah na sva-yasasah risadasah, prăvâsah na pra-sitāsah pari-prushah || Another strophe, the nature of which has been totally misapprehended by native metricians, occurs in iv. 10. It is there called Padapankti and Mahâpadapankti; nay, attempts have been made to treat it even as an Ushnih, or as a kind of Gâyatrî. The real character of that strophe is so palpable that it is difficult to understand how it could have been mistaken. It consists of two lines, the first embracing three or four feet of five syllables each, having the ictus on the first and the fourth syllables, and resembling the last line of a Sapphic verse. The second line is simply a Trishtubh. It is what we should call an asynartete strophe, and the contrast of the rhythm in the first and second lines is very effective. I am not certain whether Professor Bollensen, who has touched on this metre in an article just published (Zeitschrift der D. M. G., vol. xxii. p. 572), shares this opinion. He has clearly seen that the division of the lines, as given in the MSS. of the Sanhitâ text, is wrong; but he seems : inclined to admit the same rhythm throughout, and to treat the strophe as consisting of four lines of five syllables each, and one of six syllables, which last line is to submit to the prevailing rhythm of the preceding lines. If we differ, however, as to the internal architecture of this strophe, we agree in condemning the interpretation proposed by the Prâtisâkhya; and I should, in connection with this, like to call attention to two important facts: first, that the Sanhitâ text, in not changing, for instance, the final t of martât, betrays itself as clearly later than the elaboration of the ancient theory of metres, later than the invention of such a metre as the Padapankti; and secondly, that the accentuation, too, of the Sanhitâ is thus proved to be posterior to the establishment of these fanciful metrical divisions, and hence cannot throughout claim so irrefragable an authority as certainly belongs to it in many cases. I give the Sanhitâ text: 1. Agne tam adyaasvam na stomaih kratum na bhadram, hridisprisam ridhyâmâ tă ohaih. 2. Adha hy agne krator bhadrasya dakshasya sadhoh, rathir ritasya brihato babhutha. 1 3. Ebhir no arkair bhava no arvan svar na gyotih, agne visvebhih sumanâ anîkaih. Abhish te adya girbhir grinanto agnē dâsema, pra te divo na stanayanti sushmah. 4. 5. Tăvă svâdishtha | agnē samdrishtir, idā kid ahnaidã kid aktoh, sriye rukmo na rokǎtǎ upâke. 6. Ghritam nă pūtām | tănûr arepâhı suki hiranyam, tat te rukmo na rokata svadhavah. 7. Kritam kid dhi shma | sanemi dvesho agna inoshi, martâd itthā yagamânâd rĭtāvah. 8. Siva nah sakhya santu bhrâtrâgne deveshu yushme, sã no nabhih sadane sasmin udhan. Now it is perfectly true that, as a general rule, the syllables composing the vritta or turn of the different metres, and described by the Prâtisâkhya as heavy or light, are in reality long or short. The question, however, is this, have we a right, or are we obliged, in cases where that syllable is not either long or short, as it ought to be, so to alter the text, or so to change the rules of pro nunciation, that the penultimate may again be what we wish it to be? If we begin with the Gâyatra pâda, we have not to read long before we find that it would be hopeless to try to crush the Gâyatrî verses of the Vedic Rishis on this Procrustean bed. Even Professor Kuhn very soon perceived that this was impossible. He had to admit that in the Gâyatrî the two first pâdas, at all events, were free from this rule, and though he tried to retain it for the third or final pâda, he was obliged after a time to give it up even there. Again, it is perfectly true, that in the third pâda of the Gâyatrî, and in the second and fourth pâdas of the Anushtubh strophe, greater care is taken by the poets to secure a short syllable for the penultimate, but here, too, exceptions cannot be entirely removed. We have only to take such a single hymn as i. 27, and we shall see that it would be impossible to reduce it to the uniform standard of Gâyatri pâdas, all ending in a dijambus. But what confirms me even more in my view that such strict uniformity must not be looked for in the ancient hymns of the Rishis, is the fact that in many cases it would be so very easy to replace the irregular by a regular dipodia. Supposing that the original poets had restricted themselves to the dijambus, who could have put in the place of that regular dijambus an irregular dipodia? Certainly not the authors of the Prâtisâkhya, for their ears had clearly discovered the general rhythm of the ancient metres; nor their predecessors, for they had in many instances preserved the tradition of syllables lengthened in accordance with the requirements of the metre. I do not mean to insist too strongly on this argument, or to represent those who handed down the tradition of the Veda as endowed with anything like apaurusheyatva. Strange accidents have happened in the text of the Veda, but they have generally happened when the sense of the hymns had ceased to be understood; and if anything helped to preserve the Veda from greater accidents, it was due, I believe, to the very fact that the metre continued to be understood, and that oral tradition, however much it might fail in other respects, had at all events to satisfy the ears of the hearers. I should have been much less surprised if all irregularities in the metre had been smoothed down by the flux and reflux of oral tradition, a fact which is so apparent in the text of Homer, where the gaps occasioned by the loss of the digamma, were made good by the insertion of unmeaning particles; but I find it difficult to imagine by what class of men, who must have lived between the original poets and the age of the Prâtisâkhyas, the simple rhythm of the Vedic metres should have been disregarded, and the sense of rhythm, which ancient people possess in a far higher degree than we ourselves, been violated through crude and purposeless alterations. I shall give a few specimens only. What |