Month: May 2026

‘Q: I am used to reading older texts that use “my” before consonants (“my love”) and “mine” before vowels (“mine eyes”). But once in a while I see them used the same way. In the King James Version, Psalm 119 has “my affliction” (verse 50) and “mine affliction” (verses 92 and 153). Were “my” and “mine” somewhat interchangeable at the discretion of the writer?

A: When “mine” first appeared in Old English as a singular possessive adjective (spelled min, myn, mine, etc.), it was used before nouns beginning with consonants as well as vowels, but it gradually came to be used only before nouns with an initial vowel or consonant “h.”

When “my,” a shortened version of “mine,” began appearing in Middle English (as mie, mi, my, etc.), it was used before all consonants except “h,” but it evolved over the years to become the universal possessive adjective corresponding to the pronoun “I” in Modern English.

However, the evolution of “my” and “mine” as possessive adjectives was messy in Middle English and early Modern English, and that’s why you’re seeing so many inconsistent examples in your reading.

Let’s look now at the Oxford English Dictionary’s two earliest Old English examples of “mine” used as a first-person possessive adjective. The earliest comes before a vowel (mine æ, “mine law”) and the second before a consonant (mines weddes, “of mine pledge”).

• “Hi hæfdon mine æ, & hi me ne gecnewon” (“They had mine law, and they did not know me”). From King Alfred’s late ninth-century translation of Liber Regulae Pastoralis (“Pastoral Care”), a sixth-century Latin treatise by Pope Gregory.
• “Þonne beo ic gemyndig mines weddes” (“Then I will be mindful of mine pledge”). From the Benedictine Abbot Ælfric of Eynsham’s Catholic Homilies, written in the late 10th century. (The term mines here is the genitive singular of mine or min, Old English forms of “mine.”)

In case you’re wondering, “mine” could appear before “h” whether the consonant was sounded or silent.

Here is an Old English example we’ve found in which “mine” comes before a noun beginning with an “h” that’s sounded: “Beo min heorte ⁊ min lichama þurh god ungeƿemmed” (“May mine heart and mine body through God be undefiled”). From Aelfric’s Lives of the Saints, late 10th century.

And we’ve found this Middle English example of “mine” before a noun beginning with an “h” that’s silent: “Have ye so greet envye / Of myn honour, that thus [ye] compleyne and crye?” From “The Knight’s Tale” in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, circa 1385.

As for “my,” the OED describes it as a “variant of mine adj. with loss of final ‑n, used originally before consonants except h, which ultimately became the universal possessive adjective of the 1st person singular except in archaic or poetic use.”

The dictionary notes some isolated examples of “an apparent reduced form” in Old English, but adds that these early “my” sightings “are perhaps the result of scribal carelessness.”

Here’s a questionable example from the West Saxon Gospels, dating from the Old English of the late 10th century: “Se hælend him andswarode & cwæþ: mi lar nis na min, ac þæs þe me sende” (“The Savior answered them and said: My teaching [mi lar] is not mine, but of him who sent me”).

The dictionary notes that “such reduced forms first occur sporadically in early Middle English before consonants except h, in which use they become general in northern varieties of Middle English by the end of the 13th cent.”

Oxford adds that the use of “my” before consonants spread to “other areas during the course of the 14th and 15th centuries, although occasional examples of mine before consonants are found even in the 16th cent.”

And until the end of the 16th century, the OED says, “my often resulted also from the transference of the n of mine to the following noun or adjective by metanalysis,” the process by which the division between words is changed, resulting in a new word (as in “a napron” becoming “an apron”).

The dictionary notes the appearance of “myne errande,” “myn eronde,” and “mi nerrand” in various manuscripts of Cursor Mundi, an anonymous Middle English poem that dates from the early 1300s. Here’s a passage with “mi nerrand,” a result of metanalysis:

“Be þis well sal i habide Quat o mi nerrand” (“By this well I shall abide to see what may become of my errand”).

We’ll end with an early Modern English example from Shakespeare’s 1595 play Richard II (Act 4, Scene 1), in which the deposed king uses the possessive adjectives “my” and “mine” repeatedly in handing over his crown to Bolingbroke (the future Henry IV):

Now, mark me how I will undo myself.
I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duteous oaths.
All pomp and majesty I do forswear.
My manors, rents, revenues I forgo;
My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny.
God pardon all oaths that are broke to me.
God keep all vows unbroke are made to thee.
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved,
And thou with all pleased that hast all achieved.
Long mayst thou live in Richard’s seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit.
God save King Henry, unkinged Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days.

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Q: I recently encountered a sentence about the need for “state and local leadership on immigration.” This use of “on” strikes me as lazy and inconsiderate of syntax. It’s probably permissible in conversation, but not in edited writing. Or am I wrong?

A: The preposition “on” has been used by respected writers since Anglo-Saxon days to mean about or concerning, and the usage is recognized by all eight standard dictionaries we regularly consult.

The Oxford English Dictionary, an etymological reference, defines this sense of “on” as “with reference to, as regards; concerning, about.”

Here’s an OED citation from the Old English Boethius, a late ninth- or early tenth-century translation of De Consolatione Philosophiae (“The Consolation of Philosophy”), a Latin treatise by the Roman philosopher Boethius:

“Hwæt godes magon we seggan on þa flæsclican unþeawas” (“What good may we say on the fleshly vices?”). The preface in one of two early manuscripts of the work identifies King Alfred as the author, but that attribution is now considered doubtful. The author was likely one of the scholars in his court, though Alfred may have overseen the translation.

Another Oxford example of the usage comes from Chaucer’s Middle English poem Troilus and Criseyde, composed around 1385: “He moste assente on that conclusioun, As for the tyme” (“He must agree on that conclusion, at least for the time being”).

An OED citation from Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte Darthur, a late 15th-century Middle English version of the Arthurian legends, says the Knights of the Round Table surpassed all others at jousts and tournaments, “and that was well proved … on [as regards] sir Launcelot de Lake.”

Since then, the preposition “on” has been used routinely for “about,” “concerning,” and so on in both formal and informal English. Here are some entries from online standard dictionaries and their examples for the usage:

American Heritage: “concerning; about: a book on astronomy”

Cambridge: “about or having something as a subject: Did you see that documentary on volcanoes last night?”; Sarita’s thesis is on George Crumb”

Collins: “concerned with or relating to: a tax on potatoes; a programme on archaeology”

Longman: “about a particular subject: an international conference on global warming”

Merriam-Webster: “used as a function word to indicate the subject of study, discussion, or consideration: a book on insects; reflect on that a moment; agree on price”

We’ll end with an example (for “meditating on”) from one of our favorite scenes in one of our favorite novels, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813). Here, Darcy is looking contemplative at a party at the home of Sir William Lucas when he’s approached by Miss Bingley:

“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

“I should imagine not.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner,—in such society; and, indeed, I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance, of all these people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied, with great intrepidity,—

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

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