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There was an odd suggestion of antagonism in their attitude towards each other not irreconcilable, the poets tell us, with love but this is assuredly not the Love that comes from Heaven and will go back there to live through eternity. "Yes," said she at length. "Such is my love for you," he said, his quick instinct telling him that with Mathilde few words were best.
It is at all events a good sign that poets and novelists could reckon on popular applause in holding up this class of men to ridicule. Bandello not only treats this sorcery of a Lombard monk as a miserable, and in its consequences terrible, piece of knavery, but he also describes with unaffected indignation the disasters which never cease to pursue the credulous fool.
Thus he tells us of the singer in Prince Athanase: And through his sleep, and o'er each waking hour Thoughts after thoughts, unresting multitudes, Were driven within him by some secret power Which bade them blaze, and live, and roll afar, Like lights and sounds, from haunted tower to tower. Probably our jargon of the subconscious would not much impress poets, even those whom we have just quoted.
To be intelligent is merely to be human. Intelligence is only a tool, poets have repeatedly insisted, in their quarrel with philosophers. In proportion as one is intelligent within one's own field, one excels, poets would admit.
Now and then a reversion to some earlier form may prove acceptable, but in general it can have only a curious or antiquarian interest. The man of reading, who knows his Greek poets, will be glad to have seen once or twice in his life a genuine Greek play, preferably in the Greek language, with all the accessories as perfect as possible.
"Your Majesty," she answered, "as for the acquaintanceship, one of our poets has said, 'Whoever loves that loves not at first sight? and though indeed at first sight I was far from giving this gentleman my love, I saw in him at once those qualities which in a man deserve love. As for his enmity, we are told that we should love our enemies."
Pope Joan was brought on the stage by the zealous Protestants. Pensioned poets filled their prologues and epilogues with eulogies on the King and the Duke. The malecontents besieged the throne with petitions, demanding that Parliament might be forthwith convened. The royalists sent up addresses, expressing the utmost abhorrence of all who presumed to dictate to the sovereign.
AUCTOR. That shows very clearly that you have never written one, for there is nothing so hard in the writing of a book no, not even the choice of the Dedication as is the ending of it. On this account only the great Poets, who are above custom and can snap their divine fingers at forms, are not at the pains of devising careful endings.
He learnt to perceive the moral government under which he held the feudal tenure of his life perceiving it he symbolised it, and to this day our poets and prophets still strive to symbolise it more and more completely. The mind grew because the body grew more things were perceived more things were handled, and being handled became familiar.
Very likely, he replied; but I do not as yet know what you would term the greater. Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod, and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-tellers of mankind. But which stories do you mean, he said; and what fault do you find with them? A fault which is most serious, I said; the fault of telling a lie, and, what is more, a bad lie.
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