Samuel Johnson in his Lives of The English Poets comments upon the importance of fourteeners to later English lyric forms saying, "as these lines had their caesura always at the eighth syllable, it was thought in time commodious to divide them; and quatrains of lines alternately consisting of eight and six syllables make the most soft and pleasing of our lyric measures".
Now have I brought a work to end which neither Jove's fierce wrath, Nor sword, nor fire, nor fretting age with all the force it hath Are able to abolish quite.
Let come that fatal hour Which (saving of this brittle flesh) hath over me no power, And at his pleasure make an end of mine uncertain time.
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville Nine that day; The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play, And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
I know it's been two years but see the Tribe was never falling Would have tried for singing but that stuff was not my calling The mic is in effect so you know I'm never stalling Walking through the door and all them suckers started hauling In wilds beyond they speak your name with reverence and regret, For none could tame our savage souls yet you the challenge met, Under palest watch, you taught, we changed, base instincts were redeemed, A world you gave to bug and beast as they had never dreamed.
Good ladies, ye that have your pleasure in exile Step in your foot, come take a place, and mourn with me awhile, And such as by their lord do set but little price Let them sit still, it skills them not what chance come on the dice.