Humboldt pointed out very clearly the difference between the epic of the people and the epic of art--between Homer and Ariosto. Both, he said, are true painters of the world and Nature; but Ariosto pleases more by his brilliance and wealth of colour, Homer by purity of form and beauty of composition. Ariosto achieves through general effect, Homer through perfection of form. Nature is more naive in Homer, the subject is paramount, and the singer disappears; in Ariosto, Nature is sentimental, and the poet always remains in view upon the stage. In Homer all is closely knit, while Ariosto's threads are loosely spun, and he breaks them himself in play. Homer almost never describes, Ariosto always does.
Ariosto's scenes and comparisons from Nature, being calculated for effect, are more subjective, and far more highly-coloured than Homer's. But they shew a sympathetic grasp.
The modern bloom, so difficult to define, lies over them--something at once sensuous, sentimental, and chivalrous. He is given to describing lonely woodland scenery, fit places for trysts and lovers' rendezvous.
In the 1st Canto of Mad Orlando:
With flowery thorns, vermilion roses near
Her, she upon a lovely bush doth meet,
That mirrored doth in the bright waves appear,
Shut out by lofty oaks from the sun's heat.
Amidst the thickest shades there is a clear