5. Forms of Lyric Verse
Reading poetry has something in common with taking a Rohraschach test—what you bring out tells considerable about what you took in. But a poem also provides a glimpse of the poet, and perhaps not always what he thought he was showing you. The self-revelation may not be quite so evident when the work is epic, spreading heroic happenings over a huge canvas, or narrative, telling a more human story in a briefer compass, or dramatic, with characters speaking for themselves, or even satirical, jeering at human folly, as it is in the lyric poem, which deliberately opens to daylight very private feelings.
Even if one wishes to, it is hard to lie successfully in a lyric poem—except perhaps to oneself. If a lie does convince the reader, it is probably because it reveals a truth by accident. And mawkishness and sentimentality show through like pentimento through overlaid painting. The traditional verse forms that follow are generally associated with lyric poetry. It may seem in dubious taste to serve jug wine from such splendid bottles; but at least the bottles are splendid.
Most of the best-known lyric forms in English are imports, and most of the best known imports are from Italy and France. From Italy Four Italian forms that have long been at home in English are the sonnet, ottava rima, terza rima, and the rhyming sestina.
A. The Sonnet
The sonnet is a fourteen-line poem in iambic pentameter, broken by stanzas and thought development into tow movements—the octet, of eight lines, and the sestet, of six. But there may be only one movement, or there may be more than tow; and the separations may be either sharp or blurred.
The original rhyme scheme, still common, is a – b – b - a, a – b – b – a, c – d – e, c – d – e, with sometimes a shift in the sestet to c – d –c, d – c – d. Milton used the Italian rhyme scheme for his sonnets, but not the arbitrary division of thoughts. The following verse is structured in the Miltonic fashion.
WHEN CHARON FERRIES ME ACROSS THE STYX
When Charon ferries me across the Styx,
And Cerberus confines me with the dead,
Pray, Boswell, carve some legend at my head.
Say that I sharpened Machiavelli’s tricks;
Out-Croesused Croesus with my golden bricks;
That tides obeyed me in Canute’s bestead;
That Casanova envied me in bed
As Newman pales beside me in the flicks.
Pray, Boswell, tell the waiting world that I
Awhile to Joan was Darby, and awhile
To Damon, Pythias; and, pray, recall
There was the settle of Caesar in my eye,
And Aristotle’s wisdom in my smile.
What—can’t you think of anything at all?
B. The Shakespearean Sonnet
The rhyme scheme of the sonnet form that carries Shakespeare’s name is a – b – a –b, c –d – c – d, e – f – e - f, g – g. The thought may take a turn at the beginning of the sestet, but this is not required. The octet here enjambs into the sestet.
POLONIUS TO LAERTES:
A GRAMMATICAL FAREWELL
Aboard, Laertes, and my blessing carry;
And let these precepts in thy memory sit
When judging thy familiars. Be thou chary
Of tongues that scuff in slipshod counterfeit,
With words all unproportioned to their thought;
Ill-said is no less ill because intangible.
Give every man thy ear, but count him naught
Who friable equates with frangible;
For friable is foreordained to crumble,
While frangible is brittle, and must shatter.
From trope to trope do men, like drunkards, stumble,
And make of synonyms identic matter.
Reserve thy love for the grammatic few.
I wouldn’t count on more than one or two.
C. Ottava Rima
Ottava rima has six lines rhyming a – b – a – b – a – b, followed by a rhyming couplet. Any meter will do. The example below is based on the conclusion of one of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, in which a knight of King Arthur’s court is condemned to die unless he can find an answer to the query, “What does a woman like best?” After hunting vainly far and near, he throws himself in desperation on the mercy of a stooped and withered crone:
HANDSOME IS AS HANDSOME DOES
He said, “Thou art ugly as e’er man did see;
The bloom of thy nineties must seem long ago.
Yet rather than perish I’ll marry with thee
If thou halt my hanging by letting me know,
What is it a woman likes best?”
Answered she,
“To have her own way.”—And in answering, lo!
She threw her disguise off, and—son of a bitch!—
Proved beautiful, youthful, indulgent, and rich.
D. Terza Rima
Terza Rima is a series of three-line stanzas in chain rhyme; a – b - a, b – c – b, c – d – c, and so on. It may be as brief as two stanzas, or as long as Dante’s Divine Comedy. The usual meter in English is iambic pentameter, and the final stanza is a quatrain instead of a triplet. The first line of the quatrain generally rhymes with the middle line of the preceding triplet as well as with the third line of the quatrain. The second and fourth lines rhyme with each other.
LOVE SONG (MULTO CON CORPORE)
The Ways of Love
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:
From top to toe, with torso in between.
Some days heels over head, and other days
Head over heels. No neck of land’s as green
As your neck is; no arm of sea’s as blue
As your arm is; no hill’s brow so serene
As is your brow…Your headland’s noble, too…
The widest river mouth is not so wide
As your dear mouth…
Ah, men of mighty thew
And jutting chin have wooed you—been denied!
Dare I, of lesser kidney, catch your ear?
Dare jellied backbone swim against such tide?
I have no stomach for the fray, I fear;
I’m lily-livered, yellow-bellied, weak.
I’d only put my foot in it, my dear.
By begging for your hand—I lack the cheek.
Yet let your bowels of compassion start!
Lend me a leg up! Quickly!—else I seek
A toehold in some softer, warmer heart.
E. The Rhyming Sestina
The sestina, a favorite form of Dante and Petrarch, comprises six six-line stanzas followed by a three-line envoy---thirty-nine lines in all. The last word of each stanza becomes the last word of the first line in the next, with a placement of end words thorough-out in a rigid pattern. Classically (though not in my example), the word repetition replaces rhyme. The end words are arranged in the following order:
Stanza 1. a – b – c – d – e - f
Stanza 2. f – a – e – b – d - c
Stanza 3. c - f - d - a - b - e
Stanza 4. e - c - b - f - a - d
Stanza 5. b - d - f - e - c - a
THE BANKRUPT’S SERENADE
1.
My television set is snowing snow;
The snow is snowing television sets.
The lambent moon is on the wane, and lo!
The wane is on the moon. Wan parapets
Have ceased to pet their paras, for they know
Our debts repay us as we pay our debts.
2.
They said you only loved me for my debts;
yet flake on flake we snowed when we were snow
who now are mooning wanes and parapets
and television sets. You murmured low,
“Ah, sunsets, moonsets, hensets! Ah, the sets!”
None know but nuns, and nuns will never know.
3.
But if a nun dun nuns, will I not know?
Not I, for I am done with duns and debts,
And done with parapetting in the snow.
Moon on , fair wane! Be petulant, dear pets!
My lows have cattled—let my cattle low;
My fortunes rise; my television sets.
4.
Dear love, you trounced me, matches, games, and sets.
You parapetted, but your eyes said no.
Behind my back you dallied with my debts,
While television sets were snowing snow;
You stroked the parpets of parpets
While on the moon the wanes crooned sweet and low.
5.
I hear the lambent moon start up below;
Above me soar the television sets;
The duns are nunning duns amid the snow;
You stroll in from the garden with my debts
To bring me tidings I am loath to know;
The paras have forsook their parapets.
6.
Alas, the paras! And alas! The pets!
The wane is on the moon and you, and lo!
The snow is snowing television sets.
The nuns are dunning all the nuns they know.
With lowered gaze you stand, distilling debts.
The television set is snowing snow.
ENVOY
White is the snow upon the parapets;
The television sets no more, for lo!
The pale nuns know that you have paid my debts.
From France
Represented below is an example of a French verse form, all with refrains
and rigid rhyme schemes. Iambic pentameter is commonly used except in
the triolet; but in most cases the poet may take his choice of meter.
F. The Ballad
The ballade, perhaps the earliest French form to win the English heart, consists of three eight-line stanzas followed by a four-line envoy—twenty-eight lines in all. The last line of the first stanza reappears as the last line of each succeeding stanza. The rhyme sheme is a - b - a - b - b - c - b - C for the principal stanzas, and b - c - b - C for the four-line envoy.
The verse below is in iambic trameter.
MANON? MAIS NON HOW YOU TRICKED ME INTO
ATTENDING AN OPERA WRITTEN BY PUCCINI
(OR WAS IT MASSENET?)
Aida relish cymbal-smack,
Horn-sweetness, shrill of piccolo
(To savor these, how Offenbach
To Bach and Offenbach I go!)…
Or don’t. I HATE Manon Lescaut.
(You said, “Lescaut to hear Manon.
I’ve Boito tickets, second row…”)
Manon Lescaut a mauvais ton.
I go. Of Korsadov, and hack.
As old men Lakme must; I blow
My nose, and doze. I’m in the sack
From Faust plucked string to last bravo.
I dream I’m Chopin up that shmo
Puccini; c’est un sal cochon.
Most art (Mozart, say) leaves a glow;
Manon Lescaut a mauvais ton.
Manon is Verdi vulgar pack
Hangs out. If Massenet should throw
A Mass in A, I’d lead the claque.
(Giovanni hear Giovanni? So
Do I. It’s really commme il faut,
Quite Gudenov.) Alors, allons!
Indeed, I only hate one show;
Manon Lescaut a mauvais ton.
ENVOY
Prince, best of Gluck!…
One final mot:
The opera is mostly bon.
For Bizet folk, thought, one’s de trop:
Manon Lescaut a mauvais ton.
G. Ballad with Double Refrain
The ballad with a double refrain has three eight-line stanzas and a four-line envoy, like the ballad, but two refrain lines rather than one. The first appears in the fourth line of each stanza and the second line of the envoy, and the second in the final line of the stanzas and the envoy, thus; a - b - a - B - b - c - b - C, a - b - a - B - b - c - b - C, a - b - a - B - b - c - b - C, b - B - c - C.
This specimen is in anapestic tetrameter.
WHEN THE WHOLE BLAMED CABOODLE
HAS GONE UP THE SPOUT
When the whole blamed caboodle has gone up the spout;
When you reckon you’ve fizzled, and flunked out, and so on;
When your hash has been settle, your string has run out,
And you figure there’s nothing much else left to go on;
When the coin of the realm is the coin that you’re low on’
When you look like a goner, a blooming galoot,
And your dishes are busted, save one to eat crow on—
Let’s click glasses, my brother, and toss back a snoot.
You have kept your eyes skinned, you have gandered about,
You have never said die, nor your row ceased to hoe on;
You have hefted your ax, you have tickled your trout,
And you figure there’s nothing much else left to go on;
You have taken life’s wallops, and one more to grow on,
And you’ve shut up, and buttoned your lip, and stayed mute.
Say, you’re just the fellow I’ll wager my dough on—
Let’s clink glasses, my buddy, and toss back a snoot.
So it’s root, hog, or die---and you’re sore in the snout?
And it seems a coon’s age since you last had a glow on?
And you’re feeling knee-high to a skeeter, no doubt,
And you figure there’s nothing much else left to go on?
Well, I’ll risk a simoleon, win, place, or show on
My surmise you’ll be dancing soon, playing your flute.
For you’ll light a fire yet, pal; you’ve embers to blow on—
Let’s clink glasses, good buddy, and toss back a snoot.
ENVOY
Oh, you know you can’t stop it; time’s a river will flow on,
And you figure there’s nothing much else left to go on;
But I’ve got a prescription that chaws at the root:
Lesh clink glashes, ole buddy, an’ tosh back a shnoot!
H. The Chant Royal
The chant royal, developed in medieval France, was popularized in English about a hundred years ago. It has five eleven-line stanzas and a five-line envoy, sixty lines in a ll. The stanzas are rhymed a - b - a - b - c - d - d - e - d - E, with the last line of each stanza as the refrain. The five-line envoy is rhymed d - d - e - d - E. The variant that follows has ten lines to a stanza, rhyming a - b - a - b - c - d - d - e - d - E, with the d - d - e - d - E envoy as before. The obsolete words are from Poplollies and Bellibones, by Susan Sperling.
FORGOTTEN WORDS ARE MIGHT HARD TO RHYME
Quoth I to me, “A chant royal I’ll dite,
With much ado of words long laid away,
And make windsuckers of the bards who cite
The sloomy phrases of the present day.
My song, though it encompass but a page,
Will man illume from April bud till snow—
A song all merry-sorry, con and pro.”
(I would have pulled it off, too, given time,
Except for one small catch that didn’t show:
Forgotten words are mighty hard to rhyme.)
Ah, hadavist, in younghede, when from night
There dawned abluscent fome fair morn in
May (the word for dawning, ‘sparrowfart,’ won’t quite
Work in here)—hadavist, I say,
That I would ever by stoopgallant age
Be shabbed, adushed, pitchkettled, suggiled so,
I’d not have been so redmod! Could I know?—
One scantling piece of outwit’s all that
I’m Still sure of, after all this catch-and-throw;
Forgotten words are mighty hard to rhyme.
In yougheden e’er a thrip gave I for blight
Of cark or ribble; I was ycore, gay;
I matched boonfellows hum for hum, each wight
By eelpots aimcried, till we’d swerve and sway,
Turngiddy. Blashy ale could not assuage
My thirst, nor kill-priest, even.
No Lothario
Could overpasss me on Poplolly row.
A fairhead who eyebit me in my prime
Soon shared my donge. (The meaning’s clear, although
Forgotten words are might hard to rhyme.)
Fair draggle-tails once spurred my appetite;
Then walking morts and drossels shared my play.
Bedswerver, smellsmock, housebreak was I hight—
Poop-noddy at poop-noddy.
Now I pray That other fonkins reach safe anchorage—
Find bellibone, straight-fingered, to bestow
True love, till truehead in their own hearts grow.
Still, umbecasting friends who scrowward climb,
I’m swerked by mubblefubbles. Wit grows slow;
Forgotten words are mighty hard to rhyme.
Dim on the wong at cockshut falls the light;
Birds’ sleepy croodles cease. Not long to stay…
Once nesh as open-tide, I now affright;
I’m lennow, spittle-ready—samdead clay,
One clutched bell-penny left of all my wage.
Acclumsied now, I dare no more the scrow,
But look downsteepy to the Pit below.
Ah, hadvist!…Yet silly is the chime;
Such squiddle is no longer apropos.
Forgotten words are mighty hard to rhyme.
ENVOY
About me ghosts of old bawdreaminy blow;
Eldnyng is gone, and flerd is long de trop.
Yet eaubruche pleased me well; I see no crime
In looking back with a “Bravissimo!”
(Forgotten words are mighty hard to rhyme) |
