Salve Amadee
I thought about your question about poetry and speech and found the shortest, simplest poem I could. A children’s verse for the game “I’m the king of the castle, and you’re a dirty rascal”, when you climb up and recite it until pushed off and the roles reverse. Porphyrio, on Horace, first gives it:
Quaestionem tuam de poesi loquellâque cogitavi et poemam brevissimam merissimamque inveni quà m potui. Puerilis versus est circà ludo illum “Ego rex castelli, tuus degener verbero”, cùm ascendis et recitas, usque dum deturbaris, dehinc partes permutabuntur. Primus Porphyrio poemam citavit, de Hortio dicens:
Rex erit qui rectè faciet;
Qui non faciet, non erit.
I recorded it ( http://www.adrianmallonmultimedia.com/latin/rex_erit_qui.mov ) to illustrate how poetry is rhythmically quantitative rather than accentual, but I did raise pitch on word accents. Look at how rhythm overrides rules. Trochaic septenarius [Dum da/ Dum da/ Dum da/ Dum da || Dum da/ Dum da/ Dum da/ Dum (pause)], it scans both as [-^/-^/-^/-^ || -^/-^/-^/- pause] or as [-^/->/-^/-> || -^/->/-^/- pause], where - (long), ^ (short), > irrational measure, i.e., anything you care to squeeze in), and there’s a pause at the end (seven measures in the last line).
By the rule V.CV, faciet should be “fa-c(i)et” = short + long but the rhythm calls for long + (short or irrational). By VC.V we get “fac-iet”. Note also that “iet” is long and supposed to fit into a short beat. In fact, it runs into the next line’s syllable and the unusual speeding + extension on final-t + pitch & volume rise on ‘qui’ indicates word break and line break. Counter-intuitive if you follow only the rules but it’s clear to the ear. Note how the first ‘non’ is short (which is impossible according to the rules) but the second is ‘long’. ‘Faciet’ involves hiatus, of course, and squeezed into the short beat! Sounds as good as a glided vowel (or i → consonantal j) and better than dropping the ‘i’ altogether. In comedy, Allen & Greenough say tribach, irrational spondee, cyclic dactyl or apparent anapaest can be substituted for any of the first six feet; a tribach for the seventh. The same seems true for clever riddles and epigrams, too, such as
Qui de nobis longe venio late venio. Solve me.
I come far and wide from among us (from us I come long and widely). Who am I? --Petronius, c. 60CE --Hair? ) and
Postquam Crassus carbo factus, Carbo crassus factus est.
When Crassus was cremated, Carbo became fat. (–possibly off Crassus’s estate, says Matthews, 'Some Puns on Roman ‘Cognomina’, Greece and Rome, Vol 20, no.1, 1973, pp.20-24)
Here’s what I take from this. Rhythm is everything in classical poetry. When you sing to the rhythm, it’s amazing what can be merged and fitted before you ever need to drop sounds altogether. For this reason, I believe poetry does not necessarily involve anything that compromises the understandability of the phrasing and, if it does, then either the word-order of the verse could possibly be improved or I should rethink my articulation.
Ecce de his rebus quod puto. Arte poeticâ aevi classici, rhythmus res magni momenti est. In cantando cum rhythmo, mirum est quantum mergere et accomodare potes sine opus tibi erit sonos omittere. Eâ ratione, non continuò implicat ars poetica ullam rem quae comprehensionem sententiae constringat. Si aliter, vel dubius est in verso ordo dictionum vel famen meum retractare debeo.
). It means that when you make an “MMMM” sound with a closed mouth, it resembles a cow (especially when you change pitch up and down), and more so than any other animal around. Open your mouth and you have a growl like a dog; close it and you have a cow.
Come, come, Adriane, you know I meant something else.
. Plus, I wouldn’t have anything original to contribute. Up til now I’ve only just tried to make sense of both your arguments. 