BEGINNING OF THE ILIAD.

Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεά, Πηληϊάδεω ̓Αχιλῆος
οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί' Αχαιοῖς ἄλγέ ἔθηκεν,
πολλὰς δ ̓ ὀφθίμους ψυχὰς Αϊδι προΐαψεν
ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεύχε κύνεσσιν
οἰωνοισί τε πᾶσι--Διὸς δ ̓ ἐτελείετο βουλή,
ἐξ οὗ δὴ τὰ πρῶτα διαστήτην ερίσαντε
Ατρείδης τε ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν καὶ δῖος ̓Αχιλλεύς.

Wrath of Pelides, Oh Goddess, sing of the wrath of Achilles;
Woe was the havoc! and sorrows unnumbered it heaped on Achaians;
Yea, full many the stalwart spirits of heroes it hurried

Down into Hades, allotting themselves for a prey to the bandogs
And all carrion fowls-(while the purpose of Zeus was aworking)
E'en from the time when at first these twain contended and quarrelled--
King among men, Atrides, and, kin to the Godhead, Achilles.

BEGINNING OF THE ODYSSEY.

"Ανδρα μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσεν· πολλῶν δ ̓ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα, καὶ νόον ἔγνω· πολλὰ δ ̓ ὅγ ̓ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμὸν, ἀρνύμενος ἥν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων· ἀλλ ̓ οὐδ ̓ ὡς ἐτάρους ἐῤῥύσατο ἱέμενός περ αὐτῶν γὰρ σφετερῃσιν ατασθαλίησιν ὄλοντο·

νήπιοι, οι κατὰ βοῦς ὑπερίονος Ηελίοιο

ἤσθιον· αὐτὰρ ὁ τοῖσιν ἀφείλετο νόστιμον ἦμαρ.
τῶν ἀμόθεν γε, θεὰ, θύγατερ Διὸς, εἰπὲ καὶ ἡμῖν.

Tell me the much-knowing man, Oh Muse, who to wanderings many
Fared forth, after he wasted the hallowed city of Troja.
Many the men whose towns he beheld and whose manners he noted;
Many the trials which he in his mind on the deep had to suffer,
Seeking the prize of his life and the homeward return of his comrades.
Yet not thus did he save his companions, though never so wishful;
For of their own very selves, by their arrogant folly, they perished,
Senselessly having on beeves of the Daygod, riding in heaven,
Banquetted; wherefore the god robbed them of their day of returning.
Even to us, Oh daughter of Zeus, tell somewhat of these things.

BEGINNING OF PARADISE LOST.

Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,

Sing, heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire

That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,
In the beginning how the heavens and earth

Rose out of chaos. Or, if Sion hill

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed

Fast by the oracle of God; I thence

Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song,

That with no middle flight intends to soar

Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.

And chiefly thou, O Spirit! that dost prefer Before all temples th' upright heart and pure,

Instruct me, for Thou know'st: Thou from the first
Was present, and with mighty wing outspread
Dovelike satst brooding on the vast abyss,

And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine! what is low raise and support!
That, to the height of this great argument,
may assert eternal providence,

I

And justify the ways of God to men.

CHAPTER IV.

THE LYRIC.

In the drama, outward shows are represented; in the epic, these are represented while the hidden life is also exhibited; in the lyric is represented the inward life alone. Thus it will be seen that in the drama, things are shown as they appear; in the epic, things are shown not only as they appear but also as they are; in the lyric, things are what they seem, a perfect lyric being the perfect expression of feeling, and more than this, a perfect expression of the singer's own feeling. The highest lyric is never imitative. Great lyrics have indeed been written from a dramatic point of view, and perhaps in these romantic times the greater number have been so written. Seldom is Tennyson more dramatic than when he is most lyrical; dramatic in the sense of giving utterance to the supposed poetry of another, as well as in the sense of giving utterance to the supposed feelings of another: so that although he has written no regular drama, though he has reared no single

edifice of this kind to be compared with the palaces of an avowed dramatist, still his various pieces may be arranged, like the various houses of a town, into a mass of building not unworthy of a great dramatist. Here he builds a house for Shelley, here for Wordsworth, here for Coleridge, here for himself, here for the monks, here for the knights, here for the ladies. Such also is the character of most of our lyrical poesy, lyrical in form, imitative in conception; another illustration of the dramatism of Christian art. And it is for this reason that the English have so signally failed in the lyric that you can almost count on the fingers of one hand all the songs in the English language that are worthy of the name, at least, all those written by Englishmen. The English poets, whose stronghold has ever been the drama, where truly they have outshone all rivalry, have the dramatic rage so strong that they dramatize the lyric, singing in every character but their own. perhaps I should say the very reverse; that it is not because of their excellence in the drama that they are weak in the lyric; but because they dread the openheartedness of a lyric that they take refuge in the drama: not willing to sing in their own characters, they will sing for any and everybody else. However this be, it is plain enough that the English lyric is dramatic, that there lies its weakness, and that this weakness is fatal. There are drinking-songs by teetotallers who trespass in ginger-beer; love-songs by

Or