In contrast to the hýmnos, enkómion and epitáphios, the development of the three-part form did not in the thrênos lead to the total disappearance of the refrain. The lament was always in some sense collective, and never an exclusively solo performance. There seems to be no example in Greek antiquity of a lament which has lost all traces of refrain. Is there any evidence about the nature of its contents which might help to determine its function and significance? First, the word epodé means not simply after-song, but a song sung over someone, a désmios hýmnos (binding song) or magic incantation, designed in the dirge to bring the dead man back to life. That is perhaps why it disappeared in many of the hymns and odes, but not in the dirge. Its magical function was never quite forgotten.

Besides the metrical refrain of the choral odes, traces of refrain structure may also be found in the repetition of certain lines throughout a lament, whether choral or solo in form. The third strophe and antistrophe of the invocation to Dareios both end with the same command: βάσκε πάτερ ἄκακε Δαριάν, οἴ (Come, guileless father Dareios, οí!) 663, 671. Similarly, the chorus of Euripides’ Elektra open both strophe and antistrophe of their lament with the call: σύντειν’—ὥρα—ποδὸς ὁρμάν·ὤ  ἔμβα, ἔμβα κατακλαίουσα ·  ἰώ μοί μοι (Press on—it is time!—with speed of foot. O go onward, onward, weeping bitterly! Alas for me!) (112-14, 127-9). And in Bion’s Epitáphios, the lines αἰάζω τὸν Ἄδωνιν· ἀπώλετο καλὸς Ἄδωνις  ὤλετο καλὸς Ἄδωνις, ἐπαιάζουσιν Ἔρωτες (Alas for Adonis, I cry, the fair Adonis is dead! The fair Adonis is dead. Alas! cry the Loves in answer) are repeated eight times with slight variation at regular intervals throughout. Finally, in Moschos’ Eptáphios, the appeal Ἄρχετε {135|136} Σικελικαί, τῶ πένθεος ἄρχετε Μοῖσαι (Begin, Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge!) is repeated at short and regular intervals. All these refrains contain or refer to a cry of lamentation.

The main contents of the refrain, as it has survived in tragedy and in later poetic laments, would therefore seem to include the reiteration of cries, statements of death and appeals by name. Its function was to rouse the spirit of the dead and establish contact, and therefore in keeping with the essential meaning of the word epodé. Further, as we {136|137} have seen in chapter 6, the etymology of both thrênos and góos suggests that this refrain of cries—which, far from being meaningless, was probably a kind of incantation—many once have formed the of the lament. It was only after the role of éxarchos had been developed, with the separation of leader from chorus, that the refrain became subordinate. Even so, its function was not forgotten, and has left important traces both in the choral laments of tragedy, where it was deliberately exploited for dramatic effect, and in Alexandrian poetry, where there are signs that it was beginning to form structural divisions of a new, almost stanzaic type.

Further, a closer analysis of Romanos’ kontákion reveals that there is more to its structure than the melodic or strophic pattern. Besides the invocation of the poem and final tropárion, with the intervening dramatic dialogue between Mary and Christ, both Mary’s first lament and Christ’s reply show traces of artistically balance three-part form:

After Mary’s opening lament and Christ’s reply, both three strophes in length, the pace quickens, as in answer to his Mothers protests that Christ has no need to die to save mankind, having performed so many miracles in the past, Christ points to the past sins of Adam and Eve and their present misery as proof of the necessity of man’s redemption through the Crucifixion (7-10). Then, in answer to Mary’s single strophe of short, anxious questions, he assures her that she will see him again after he has risen from the dead, and describes the future joy and hope of the Resurrection (11-14). The dialogue ends with a short, dramatic exchange, in which Mary’s grief is contrasted with Christ’s hope in a series of parallel antitheses (15-16).

Unfortunately, a complete analysis of the refrain in the modern moirológia is at present precluded by the usual practice of editors, which is to print texts without music and to omit all cries and repeated syllables and phrases which are extra metrum. When sung, each fifteen-syllable line of these laments may be followed by a refrain of eight or five syllables. Usually the number of syllables in the refrain is constant throughout, while the actual phrase may be varied, as in the following verse from a narrative lament from the island of Astypalaia in the Dodecanese, recorded by Baud-Bovy—one of the few collectors of Greek folk songs to have published the music as well as the texts in full:

Frequently, short cries and appeals by name are inserted within the line, sometimes dividing words, or one or more syllables of the same word may be repeated. This kind of flexible melismatic decoration is still indispensible to certain types of lament, where variety is achieved not through the melody (which to the unaccustomed ear at first resembles a monotonous drone), but through the skillful manipulation of ornamentation and refrain.

Finally, in a Tsakonian lament already referred to in chapter 6, of penetrating quality and power, we find a rare combination of antiphony and choral refrain. One woman takes the part of the girl, another the part of the mother, while the rest form the chorus; they enact a kind of drama at the girl’s wake. Each line is followed by a refrain of cries, wailed by the whole company in unison:

Antiphony, dialogue and refrain, among the oldest structural features of the Greek lament, are still vital and dynamic elements of the modern moirológia. They have survived, not because they have been consciously preserved—in the archaising laments of Byzantine learned poetry they were almost extinct—but because antiphony is still imbedded in the ritual performance, with more than one group of mourners, sometimes representing the living and the dead and singing in response to each other. The collective rather than individual performance also explains the continued importance of the refrain; and why the three-part form, as belonging primarily to the soloist, is the least universal today. Continuity has been strongest and most spontaneous in popular tradition.

Antithetical style is a fundamental and integral part of the structure and thought of the lament, though by no means exclusive to it. A study of its use and function will provide an opportunity to trace developments through a cross-section of archaising, religious and popular laments both in poetry and prose, and thereby to determine to what extent it became a literary affectation, and to what extent it remained rooted in the vernacular language and popular tradition.

These few examples, while far from exhaustive, serve to illustrate that antithetical style remains a dynamic feature of the folk laments; as in the best of the ancient and Byzantine literary laments, it is not external to, but dependent upon, the structure and thought. At the same time, the close stylistic affinities of the folk songs with the funerary {159|160} inscriptions suggest the possibility that the inscriptions were drawing on a living vernacular tradition as well as on an established literary technique. Certainly, the long history of artistically developed antithetical style in Greek, together with the interdependence of literary and popular tradition (which can be attested in some detail from the late Byzantine period), has ensured not merely its survival, but its poetic quality.