THE form of the Xenions is, like their Roman prototype, the elegiac distich.

The elegiac distich has rarely, if ever, been used in English poetry, although there is much classical beauty in its rhythm. It consists of alternate dactylic hexameters and pentameters which in ancient Greece were recited to the accompaniment of the flute, and went by the name of “elegies,” the etymology of which has nothing to do (as has been assumed) with lamentations, but probably means flute-songs.

A meter in Greek prosody is comparable to the musical bar, while a foot is a rhythmic figure. Some meters, such as the iambic (◡ – ◡ –) and trochaic (– ◡ – ◡), consist of two feet, but the dactylic meters(– ◡ ◡) consist of one foot only.[C] Accordingly a trochaic trimeter consists of three meters or six feet; while six dactyls, the last one of which is always catalectic, are called a dactylic hexameter. Catalectic means “ending” or “terminating,” signifying that every line is mutilated at the end. A catalectic meter lacks the last syllable, which, musically considered, is to be regarded as a pause so as to make a musical halt between the lines. According to another rule, the last syllable is always indifferent, i. e., it may be either long or short (⏓).

The dactylic (or, as it is also called, the heroic) hexameter is too long to be read in one breathing, so it is divided into two, sometimes into three parts, and the division is called a caesura, i. e., a cut or incision. This division of the line is irregular and we do not hesitate to say that to its irregularity the hexameter owes a peculiar charm, for it breaks the monotony of the dactylic rhythm.

The new start after the caesura will never be dactylic (– ◡ ◡) like the beginning of the line; it may be anapaestic (◡ ◡ –) or iambic (◡ –); but not dactylic. The break should occur either after an arsis (–) or after a trochee (– ◡) so as to change the character of the latter part of the hexameter from a descending into an ascending meter. The former, the descending meter which begins with a long syllable, is halting and possesses an attitude of holding back, of dignity, of assertion, while the descending meter rushes forward from a short syllable to a long one; it is progressive, it rises. The latter indicates struggle while the former shows strength and the calmness of victory.

Every caesura has its own name in Greek and the most common caesura cuts the verse in the third meter between the arsis, the long accented syllable, and the thesis, i. e., the two short syllables or the one long unaccented syllable. Since in prosody two short syllables are equivalent to one long syllable, they are regarded as half a meter, and so this caesura is called penthemimeres πενθημιμερὴς which means the one after the fifth half-meter. It runs thus:

– ◡ ◡ - ◡ ◡ – || ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡

There is another caesura after the seventh half-meter. It is called in Greek hephthemimeres (ἑφθημιμερὴς) and runs thus:

– ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – || ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡

Caesuras after the third and after the ninth half-meter are rarely used; they occur sometimes in Latin but the latter is regarded as inadmissible in Greek.

Almost as common as the penthemimeres is the caesura between the two short syllables in the third meter; and because it cuts off from the meter a trochee (thus – ◡ || ◡) it is called κατὰ τρίτον τροχαῖον, i. e., the caesura “after the third trochee.” It runs thus:

– ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ || ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡

Caesuras after the second trochee are rare and after the fourth are strictly forbidden in Greek metrics.

Finally we must mention the caesura after the end of the fourth measure, which is not uncommon in bucolic poetry, picturing the peaceful life of the ancient Greek cowboys, so different from the cowboys of the American Wild West, and it has therefore received the name, “bucolic caesura.” It is rare in heroic poems; nevertheless it occurs sometimes and its occasional appearance is effective, for the combination of one dactyl with one trochee (– ◡ ◡ – ◡) gives a euphonious ring to the verse.

The heroic hexameter is best known to the English-reading public from Longfellow’s Evangeline. It has not been a favorite with them mainly because of the awkwardness with which it has been handled and the boldness with which short syllables are frequently used to serve as long syllables. We may say that at present the German language has proved itself most apt in reproducing this classical measure, in which, however, the long syllable (arsis) is to be replaced by a decidedly accented syllable, while the place of a short syllable (thesis) is taken by an unaccented syllable. This makes it possible that the same word may, according to position, in one place serve as a short, in another as a long, syllable, while the prosody of the classical languages is more severe. There a syllable is either long or short, and a short syllable can only become long through subsequent consonants, which is called “length through position.”

We have to recognize the fact that Teutonic languages are qualitative while the classic languages are quantitative. This means that in the former the accent of the word is predominant and wrong accents render a word positively unintelligible, while in the latter the word-accent is of less account. It is of little consequence in English whether we pronounce “ĕgg” or “aigg,” but it makes a decided difference whether we say “in′fidel” or “infi′del.” In modern French however, we may pronounce with propriety either “la mai′son” or “la maison′”. And this character of the Teutonic languages which renders quality of accent so prominent in speech is the reason why they tend to brevity, for they contract words more and more until, as is the case in English, most of their forms are reduced to monosyllables. Thus the Gothic word habededian is contracted in Middle German into habete, (viz., haben—tat = “I did have”), in modern German into hatte, and in English into “had.” The Teutonic languages neglect the unimportant and unaccented portions of the word, and wherever they can be disposed of drop them entirely or fuse them into the main syllable.

Another reason why the hexameter is not liked in English is on account of the length of the verse. If the reader has first to search for the caesura, for the place where he can take breath, he feels discouraged at the long line that stretches before him like a road through the desert, and for this reason we deem it an improvement to print dactylic verses so as to begin a new line with the caesura. It renders the reading of the line easier in the measure, as the break in the verse is thus most easily taken in by the eye.

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Since we have been discussing metrical details at some length, we may be permitted to add a few comments on the iambic trimeter which in English is really nothing else but what is commonly known as blank verse. This verse is very generally misunderstood and we have nowhere seen it properly explained in English books on prosody.

The blank verse is the most common and best adapted form for dignified speech in both the dialogue and the monologue of the drama. We quote as a typical verse the first line of Hamlet’s soliloquy:

The meter is a catalectic iambic trimeter and there is only one rule of importance, viz., that at the beginning and after caesuras an iambus ◡ – can be replaced by a trochee metric: – ◡. A scheme of the meter runs thus:

◡ – ◡ – | ◡ – ◡ – | ◡ – ◡ ||

Or in musical script thus:

The last long syllable, sometimes even the whole last foot, is omitted or, more correctly, is replaced by a pause. We may write it thus:

This latter case, originally merely allowable, has become very frequent in English, because the English language is rich in monosyllables so as to make it sometimes difficult to end the verse with an unaccented (i. e., a short) syllable, but this custom has produced the impression that the verse consists of five iambi, and among people but little versed in the rules of classical poetry who forget that an iambic meter consists of two feet, has given rise to the error that blank verse is an iambic pentameter. Strange to say this mistake is now perpetuated in almost all our text-books.

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After this digression on the iambic trimeter we shall make, in conclusion, a few comments on the dactylic pentameter.

The pentameter, i. e., “a five-measure,” is so called because it consists of twice two and a half dactylic meters thus:

– ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ –

In reality the pentameter is a repetition of a penthemimeres.

Two short syllables may always be replaced in elegiac distichs by one long syllable, with the exception of the fifth meter of the hexameter and the latter half of the pentameter. The schedule of a distich, accordingly, is thus:

 —    —   —     —   —    —  
– ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – ◡

 —    — 
– ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ – || – ◡ ◡ – ◡ ◡ –

Considering the fact that the measures of Greek prosody are comparable to musical bars in which time and not accent is the decisive element, we readily understand that the name “pentameter” is a misnomer, for the pentameter consists as much as the hexameter of six full dactylic bars, only that there is a pause of one-half meter after each two and a half meters. Expressed in musical characters, the distich reads as follows: