Thursday 17 July 2014

Metre (explained using frogs)

Before we get into the specifics of poetic form, it is important to know what metre is: metre is the rhythm of the poem, consisting of patterns of stressed and unstressed syllables. Different combinations of these have different names.

The most commonly used one in English poetry is Iambic metre: an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed one:

Each pair of unstressed and stressed syllables is called an 'Iambic Foot'.

So, lets have some examples. You may have heard that Shakespeare's plays were mostly written in iambic feet, but not in rhyme - this was called blank verse. Probably the most commonly quoted line as an example of iambic metre is from Richard III: 


'A Horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!

It is also the metre used in ballads and sonnets, and all sorts of other things. Basically, iambic feet in English are easy. And they sound good. So you see them all over the place. The most commonly used metre is iambic pentameter - it is found in blank verse, as well as sonnets. This means five iambic feet side by side, like so:


A good hunting ground for iambic feet is Milton's 'Paradise Lost' - here's a bit of Book I:

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, (etc, etc, etc.)

He goes on like that for several thousand lines. Probably not a good place to start if you're not already into reading poetry and/or Christian theology, even if his Devil is rather dashing. But this is a good example of continuous use of iambic feet. Milton takes his rhythm seriously.

The other commonly used measure is the Trochaic Foot, which is just an iambic foot backwards:



Trochaic feet, or trochee, are not quite as common as their iambic cousins, but you still find them in many places. A particularly famous example of trochee is William Blake's 'The Tiger'; in the first stanza, the first three lines are trochaic and the final one is iambic:


TIGER, tiger, burning bright          
In the forests of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye           
Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

(William Blake, ‘The Tiger’)

He omits the second syllable of the last trochaic foot, so his metre could be rendered in frogs as follows:


This is, apparently, a common thing to do when using trochee. If you have a burning desire to find out exactly why, look at Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Travelled. It has a very good chapter on metre, because Stephen Fry knows everything. But in terms of the poetic forms I will be talking about in the next few posts, this is all you need to know. 

Summary:
  • Some poems have metre
  • Iambic feet [unstressed-stressed] are very common
  • Five iambic feet in a row is called iambic pentameter
  • Unrhymed lines of iambic pentameter is called blank verse
  • Trochaic feet [stressed-unstressed] are less common but still fabulous

But because useless knowledge is fun, here's some more: (u=unstressed s=stressed)
Anapest - u-u-s
Dactyl - s-u-u
Amphibrach -u-s-u
Pyrric - u-u

You may guess from the names that these originate in ancient Greek poetry (yuck), but they're found in some surprising and entertaining places; take You are Old, Father William by Lewis Carroll: a most amusing use of the anapest.

"You are old, Father William," the young man said,
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."


"You are old," said the youth, "As I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "And your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth, "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose—
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you down stairs!"

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