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English English language Etymology Expression Language Linguistics Pronunciation Word origin Writing

When ‘misery’ rhymes with ‘high’

Q: Was it ever normal to rhyme “misery” and “high”? I’m thinking of a couplet (“Make safe the way that leads on high, / And close the path to misery”) in the hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”

A: The noun “misery” has been pronounced various ways since it first appeared in the Middle English of the late 14th century, but the most common were roughly similar to the way the word is pronounced now (MIZ-uh-ree).

In Middle English, the noun (usually spelled “miserie” or “myserie”) was pronounced MIZ-uh-ree or MIZ-uh-ree-uh, according to the University of Michigan’s  Middle English Dictionary. (We’ve used capital letters to indicate stress.)

The Oxford English Dictionary’s earliest citation is from The Monk’s Tale (circa 1375), by Chaucer: “Now artow Sathanas, that mayst nat twynne / Out of miserie in which thou art falle” (“Now art thou Satan, that mayest not depart / Out of the misery in which thou art fallen”).

In the early modern English of the late 16th and early 17th centuries, “misery” was still usually pronounced MIZ-uh-ree, but it could be MIZ-uh-rye (rhyming with “high”) in poetry and formal speech, according to English Pronunciation 1500–1700 (2nd ed., 1998), by the Oxford philologist Eric John Dobson.

Dobson, citing contemporary orthoepists (pronunciation and spelling experts), suggests that poets and orators often pronounced the last syllable in words like “misery” with a diphthongized long “i” (sounding like “eye”) to differentiate terms of Old French and Latin origin from those of Anglo-Saxon and Germanic origin.

In The Faerie Queene (1590), Edmund Spenser rhymes the plural “miseries” with the verb “plies.” Here Una has found a haven among satyrs and fauns after wandering alone in the wilderness: “And a long time with that salvage people she staid, / To gather breath in many miseries. / During which time her gentle wit she plyes.”

Similarly, Shakespeare rhymes the plural “miseries” with “eyes” in Henry VI, Part 1 (written about 1591). Here the Duke of Bedford is speaking to others in the funeral procession of King Henry V: “Away with these disgraceful wailing robes. / Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes / To weep their intermissive miseries.”

As far as we can tell, Shakespeare rhymes only the plural of “misery,” but he has many singular examples with other words ending in “y.” In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, for example, Oberon rhymes “archery,” “gloriously,” and “remedy” with “dye,” “eye,” “espy,” “sky,” and “by” as he applies nectar to the eyes of Demetrius:

“Flower of this purple dye, / Hit with Cupid’s archery, / Sink in apple of his eye. / When his love he doth espy, / Let her shine as gloriously / As the Venus of the sky. — /  When thou wak’st, if she be by, / Beg of her for remedy.”

In the poetry and formal speech of the 18th century, the final “y” of many words of three or more syllables (like “misery”) continued to be rhymed with words clearly ending in an “eye” sound, never mind that most people pronounced the final “y” in these polysyllabic terms with an “ee” sound.

In “An Essay on Man” (1733-34), a philosophical poem, Alexander Pope rhymes “company” with “sky”: “But thinks, admitted to that equal sky / His faithful Dog shall bear him company.”

And in “The Tyger” (1794), William Blake rhymes “symmetry” with “eye”: “Tyger Tyger, burning bright, / In the forests of the night; / What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”

The British linguist David Crystal says the pronunciation of “symmetry” with a diphthong at the end  “would have sounded distinctly old-fashioned by then. But wouldn’t that suit someone who begins a poem with a spelling of tyger that was also archaic?” (DC blog, Sept. 9, 2013).

Crystal notes that the lexicographer and philologist John Walker rhymes “symmetry” with “me” in A Critical Pronouncing Dictionary and Expositor of the English Language (1791). That suggests the SIM-uh-tree pronunciation was standard English at the time.

However, some poets continued to use the diphthongized “eye” pronunciation of these “y” words as a sign of respect, especially to emphasize someone or something of venerable age, wisdom, or character. That’s probably why John Mason Neale rhymed “misery” and “high” in the hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”

Interestingly, Neale produced several different English translations of the Latin hymn “Veni, Veni, Emanuel.” The earliest, “Draw nigh, draw nigh, Emmanuel,” appeared in Mediaeval Hymns and Sequences (1851) and was revised in Hymnal Noted (1852). The better known “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” appeared in Hymns Ancient and Modern (1861).

The lines you cite were significantly different in the original 1851 version  of the hymn, and read: “Make safe the way that we must go, / And close the path that leads below.” Those lines also appeared in a children’s version, Hymns for the Young (1854).

The wording you’re asking about (“Make safe the way that leads on high, / And close the path to misery”) appeared in the 1852 and 1861 versions of the hymn.

As rhyming in poetry fell out of favor in the 20th century, it was rare to hear the “y” in a word like “misery” pronounced  as a diphthong.

Even a poet like W. H. Auden, who used a fair amount of rhyme, pronounced “poetry” the usual  way (PO-uh-tree) in reading the the first stanza in Section III of “In Memory of W. B. Yeats” (1940):

Earth, receive an honoured guest:
William Yeats is laid to rest.
Let the Irish vessel lie
Emptied of its poetry.

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English English language Etymology Expression Grammar Language Usage Word origin Writing

Has the verb ‘progress’ progressed?

Q: I saw this headline over an NPR article: “VP Vance tries to progress Gaza ceasefire.” Is that a permissible use of “progress”? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen it used like that, but I’m slow to pick up on the evolution of English.

A: That usage is somewhat controversial. The verb “progress,” used in that particular way, is frowned upon by standard American dictionaries but is acceptable in British English.

We’ve written about the uses of “progress” as a verb in two of our previous posts—in 2010 and again in 2022.

The 2022 post discusses “progress” as an intransitive verb (one without an object) meaning simply to go forward, as in “the construction progressed.” This use is not unusual.

English borrowed the word “progress” from Latin, where progressus referred to a forward movement, an advance, or a development. It appeared as a noun in the 15th century and a verb in the 16th.

We cite many examples from the Oxford English Dictionary as we show how the verb progressed over the years. We especially like this one from Shakespeare’s King John, believed written in the mid-1590s:

“Let me wipe off this honourable dewe, / That siluerly doth progresse on thy cheekes.”

Our 2010 post discusses “progress” in the sense you ask about—as a transitive verb (i.e., one that takes a direct object and means to move something forward), as in “the builder progressed the construction.”

In that post, we answer a question about a transitive use by Sarah Palin in 2008, the year she ran for vice president as the Republican nominee: “Let’s talk about progressing this nation.”

As we mentioned, this transitive use is not recognized in American English dictionaries, including American Heritage, Merriam-Webster, Dictionary.com, and Webster’s New World.

However, the OED (an etymological dictionary), and the latest editions of Fowler’s Dictionary of Modern English Usage include the transitive use. And so do standard British dictionaries like Cambridge, Collins, and Longman.

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What a fetching Labrador retriever!

Q: I say “fetch” when I want my Lab, Gracie, to retrieve something, but “fetching” may refer to her good looks as well as her retrieving. Am I right to assume the two senses are related?

A: Yes, both the retrieving and the attractive senses of “fetching” are derived from the verb “fetch,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The story begins in Old English, when “fetch” (originally feccan) meant to go on a quest for someone or something and bring the quarry back.

The verb ultimately comes from ped, the prehistoric Indo-European root for “foot” and “walk,” says The American Heritage Dictionary of Indo-European Roots.

The OED’s first citation, which refers to fetching a person, is from Ælfric’s translation of Genesis 42:34 in the late 10th century: “Þæt ge þisne eowerne broþur feccon” (“that you should fetch this brother of yours”).

Around the same time, the verb was used in reference to fetching an object, as in an OED example from Matthew 24:17 in the West Saxon Gospels.

In the passage, Jesus tells his followers that when the apocalypse approaches, a righteous person should flee to the mountains and not go home to fetch anything:

“Ne ga he nyðyr þat he ænig þing on his huse fecce” (“Let him not go down to fetch anything in his house”).

As far as we can tell, the use of “fetch” in the canine sense first appeared in The Noble Art of Venerie or Hunting (1575), by George Turberville. Here he describes the training of spaniels:

“Also it is a good thing to teach them to fetche, and to learne them to mouth a thing gently: for if they teare the fowle, or the thing which they shall fetche, it is a great fault in them.”

Soon afterward, the verb was used in reference to the ability of spaniels to retrieve not only waterfowl but bolts (crossbow projectiles) and arrows that had gone astray.

This example is from Of Englishe Dogges, Abraham Fleming’s 1576 translation of De Canibus Britannicis, a 1570 Latin treatise by John Caius:

“With these dogges also we fetche out of the water such fowle” and “we vse them also to bring vs our boultes & arrowes out of the water (missing our marcke).”

The earliest example we’ve seen for “fetch” used as a command is from Hunger’s Prevention: Or, the Whole Art of Fowling by Water and Land (1655), by Gervase Markham.

In explaining how to teach a dog to retrieve, Markham says one should use a glove to play with the dog, “then cast it further from you and say Fetch.” And if “he doe bring it you make exceeding much of him and reward him either with Bread, or Meate.”

As for “fetching,” it can be a present participle (as in “Gracie is fetching well today”), a gerund (“Her fetching has been at its best lately”), or an adjective (“She looks especially fetching after being groomed”).

When the adjective first appeared in the 16th century, the OED says, it described someone who “contrives, plans, schemes”—that is, a “crafty, designing” person.

The earliest Oxford example is from Actes and Monumentes, John Foxe’s history of Protestant persecution by Roman Catholics (1570 revised ed.): “What can not the fetchyng practise of the Romishe Prelates bryng aboute?”

That sense is now obsolete, but in the late 19th century the adjective took on the modern attractive sense, which Oxford defines as “alluring, fascinating, pleasing.”

The first OED citation, which we’ve expanded to fill an ellipsis, is from Roy and Viola (1880), a Victorian-era novel by “Mrs. Forrester” (pseudonym of Emily Feake Bridges): “there is nothing in the world so fetching as a beautiful voice?”

How, you’re probably wondering, did “fetching,” an adjective derived from the verb “fetch,” come to mean “crafty” and later “alluring”?

The Chambers Dictionary of Etymology suggests that the verb’s original meaning of to pursue and bring back inspired the later “idea of taking or catching one’s attention.”

In fact, the adjective “taking” has meant “appealing, engaging, pleasing, charming, captivating” since the 17th century, the OED says, though that sense is “now somewhat dated.”

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Are ‘hopium’ and ‘copium’ nope-iums?

Q: I’ve been hearing the word “hopium” used for an imaginary opiate taken to achieve unrealistic optimism, and “copium” used for one taken to endure hard times. I don’t see them in my dictionary. Are they legit?

A: Well, one standard dictionary, Collins, recognizes both “hopium” and “copium” while another, Merriam-Webster, recognizes only “copium.” Both dictionaries label these terms slang—that is, informal nonstandard usages.

Collins describes “hopium” as a blend of the words “hope” and “opium,” while it describes “copium” as a blend of “cope” and “opium.” Here are the dictionary’s definitions:

Hopium: “a substance said to have been ingested by those who maintain an unrealistically optimistic outlook.”

Copium: “a substance said to have been ingested by those who remain unduly optimistic in the face of defeat or disappointment.”

Are they legit? Well, we’ll coin a slang term of our own to describe “hopium” and “copium” as maybe-ums. We like slang and often use it in informal speech and writing, but only if our audience is likely to understand.

The oldest of these two satirical terms for imaginary opiates, “hopium,” first appeared in the 19th century, but as far as we can tell it didn’t show up again in that sense until the late 20th century.

In the earliest example we’ve seen, a British satirical weekly (The Tomahawk, May 28, 1870) uses the term in mocking an anti-opiate movement:

“It is possible that Sir Wilfred Lawson may head a great Ante-opiate Movement, the object of which will be to get all people afflicted with toothache to pledge themselves to abstain from laudanum. It will, of course, be marshalled under the title of The Band of Hope-ium!”

The next appearance that we know of is from a book about the 1978 mass suicide and murder of Jim Jones and members of his Peoples Temple religious cult at Jonestown in Guyana:

“This was the practical God in distinction to Sky Gods, Spooks, Buzzard Gods, and the unknown God worshipped by those who were addicted to the ‘hopium’ of myth” (Salvation and Suicide: An Interpretation of Jim Jones, the Peoples Temple, and Jonestown, 1988, by David Chidester).

The usage began appearing more frequently in the early 21st century, perhaps influenced by the “Hope” poster used in Barrack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign.

In “Hopium helps you forget several unpleasant facts,” the headline on a column by John Kass in the Chicago Tribune (July 30, 2008), the term is used satirically for the enthusiasm of Obama’s supporters.

As for “copium,” Merriam-Webster describes the term in a “Slang & Trending” feature on its website as “an Internet taunt for a delusional loser,” and has this expansive definition:

Copium is a slang term for denial or rationalization in the face of defeat or failure. It is presented as a metaphorical drug people take when dealing with losing a game or otherwise being disappointed.”

As M-W explains, “The implication of copium is that, rather than honestly accept defeat, someone deals (copes) with it by numbing their pain through denial or the like (as if taking opium).”

The dictionary says “various people probably coined copium independently in the 2000s.” The earliest example we’ve seen is from Copium, a 2003 album by the Oakland, CA, rapper Kreak da Sneak.

We listened to track 6, entitled “Copium,” to find out how the term was used, but the only words we could make out were the numerous “motherfuckers” (and variant forms). We were unable to find a transcription of the lyrics online.

The linguist Ben Zimmer says the title “Copium” here stands for “Counting Other People’s Money” (“Among the New Words,” American Speech, May 2022).

The title on most physical versions of the album is “COPIUM” (all caps), while the title on some others is “Counting Other People’s Money.”

In July 2019, the word appeared in a meme on a 4chan forum with an image of the Internet character Pepe the Frog breathing with a mask and tube from a tank labeled “copium.”

The meme was used at first to put down political losers who refused to accept defeat. It later came to mean irrational optimism to cope with any kind of disappointment or defeat.

Finally, here’s the image of Pepe, blissed out on copium:

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