What metre is Solon speaking in?

I wrote a poem a few years ago and which I showed someone recently and which he liked. He asked me what metre I wrote it in, and I told him, I wasn’t thinking of metre when I wrote it.

Q. But that made me curious, is there a metre to my poem?

The poem is part of the prologue of a play I’m writing, as one can tell by the stage directions.

Solon walks onto a spotlit stage, everything else is in darkness. He turns and looks straight at the audience and speaks:

SOLON:

I have come here from that other world where Hades has established his kingdom apart from all the other gods and which he alone rules.

I am Solon, Law-Giver of Athens!

Call no man happy until he is dead and passed to the world below. Men are born to perish but some dare to think that their deeds will live on.

When I was a young man, Athens had grown choleric, gout-ridden, rancourous. Petty men stood as petty tyrants lording it over the citizens, the assemblies and the agora.

When I was older, the citizens made a delegation to my house and asked that I cut the canker out. I stood between the men of the valleys, the men of the hills, and those of the coast. And those that had much and those that had little. I made myself a mighty shield of Athens so that Athens may prosper and that none suffer unjustly.

Let no man call Solon unjust!

I cut out the canker so that the healthy flesh could grow and the sweet sap rise. I treated the common and the uncommon alike, taking their true measure, framing Athenian laws out of their span. And out of just laws, Athens rose to splendour, as did my name. Everywhere Solon’s name was proclaimed.

But now that Athen’s lamp burns high and bright, a shining city upon a hill, Athens is in danger of a fall.

O, Pallas Athena, immortal goddess, lover of nocturnal solitudes and who delights in the deer, I call on thee. Thy city and thy temples may fall, thy altars abandoned and thy priests and priestesses sold.

Hear me, O much honoured goddess, shining in the dark sky. Key-bearer of the universe, ruler, nymph and nursemaid who haunts the hills.

Implacable goddess, huntress. I am a son of earth and stars. Cast thy favour on thy faithful son and thy faithful city.

Great Perikles has anointed Athens with a silver diadem and your temple shines like a pearl in a silver band. Now, great Perikles has now fallen and all of Athens mourns but not warlike Sparta.

They sent no condolences nor delegation. They wolfishly eye Athens, Athens that did repulse the vast Persian horde that did threaten all of Attica with Xerxes yoke

Now Sparta makes sport of her and would possess and rule her – richest prize of proud Attica.

Sparta, a tyrannous city and a barborous people, who make slaves of their citizens. They will break Athenian law and custom, abandon all measure, turn our citizens to slaves, and slaves to dogs and bend and lash thy backs with their savage whips.

O Athens, my shining city! Wouldst thou turn slave to Sparta? Wouldst thou turn womanish and seek a master? I feel it may come. Look rather to thy better natures.

Citizens, soldiers, and law-givers of Athens! Fall ye not into conspiratorial whispers and dark plots. Censor thyselves! Perikles may be dead but Athens still lives! He was a friend to all democrats, nay, he loved them. He did thee much honour. You have heard him speak and cannot now deny or dishonour him – if you do you dishonour yourselves!

Solon says, Athenians! Hearken to thyselves and to thy laws! I will now take leave of this place but remain watchful.

[exit Solon]