If I do decide to write an epic poem about Pyrrho and Alexander the Great, I would do so in blank verse, i.e., in unrhymed iambic pentameter. Toward that end, recently I found myself re-reading All the Fun's in How You Say a Thing: An Explanation of Meter and Versification by Timothy Steele, one of my favorite living poets. This is an extremely helpful book for anyone who wants to write - or gain a greater appreciation for - metrical poetry in English, from Chaucer to the present day. Here are some of the lessons I learned this time around...
One of the challenges with iambic pentameter is avoiding a sing-song effect (da-DUM-da-DUM-da-DUM-da-DUM, endlessly repeated); this is especially important in long poems, where such sameness becomes cloying after a while. There are a number of ways to avoid this problem: substituting trochaic for iambic feet here and there (most commonly in the first foot of the line, but sometimes in the second, third, or fourth foot, e.g., if there is a grammatical transition at that juncture); occasionally using the so-called feminine ending, where instead of having ten syllables the line tacks on a weak eleventh syllable; artfully including lines of iambic hexameter here and there (e.g., as the third line of a triplet); breaking grammatical units across line endings ("enjambment") so that not every line ending also finishes off a sentence or a clause; relatedly, varying the length of sentences and clauses; and so on.
Contrariwise, using enjambment too often can cause the reader or listener to lose track of the overriding rhythm of the verse, so that the poem starts to sound like prose. This is less of a danger in poems that feature end-rhyme - which comprise about 98% of metrical poetry in English - but can loom large in long stretches of blank verse; for instance, this is not infrequently my experience when reading Milton's Paradise Lost - something noted long ago, apparently, by Samuel Johnson. One mitigation I'm considering is ending every small section of 10-20 lines with a rhyming couplet, as well as not overdoing the use of enjambment.
Intelligent use of varying word lengths can add rhythmic interest: monosyllabic words are typically read more slowly and deliberately, whereas polysyllabic words flow along more quickly. On this point, consider these successive lines that Steele adduces from Shakespeare's Hamlet: "Absent thee from felicity awhile / And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain."
Although intuitively we might expect that rhymed verse would be more bombastic because the poet needs to continually chime those line endings, Steele observes that, if not handled skillfully, it's blank verse that tends toward "rhetorical excess"; prime causes are the frequent use of enjambment and syntactically complex sentences that flow across multiple lines. I suspect that additional factors might include the subject matter (much blank verse is found in epic poetry) and historical precedent (few poets are more high-flown than the likes of Homer, Virgil, and Dante).
If I get serious about composing a "Pyrrhiad", these are definitely considerations I'll keep in mind.
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
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