In brief, in the Elizabethan age we have reached this—that the knowledge of Greek literature is no longer dependent on the Latin copies and plagiarisms of it, or on such driblets of philosophy as trickle through from the Saracens of Spain. It is derived, sometimes at first hand, but mostly from translations directly made in English, French, or Italian, from the Greek originals. Nor is this all. For among Englishmen who are training themselves to be the writers of the next generation there are growing up many to whom Greek itself, in all its nervous plasticity, is becoming a familiar tongue, and who will use no modern versions at the risk of distorting their taste and judgement. With this new generation will come the critical chastening of style which has hitherto been lacking.
Those who have never studied language as the classical languages are studied can scarcely hope to understand how vast is the difference between two educational results; on the one hand, of a painstaking study of that indescribable harmony of thought and word which constitutes style, and, on the other, of that superficial perusal of translations which supplies but coarse notions of the substance, notions as different from those of the scholar as the commercial plaster cast is different from the marble originals of Attic sculpture. Since the Shakespearean time our writers have become more and more scholars in Greek—witness Milton, Gray, Cowper, Shelley, among the poets—till, in our own days, it is difficult to meet with an author eminent either in prose or poetry who has not received a liberal training in the Greek language itself, and thence acquired a care of expression such as Greek models cannot fail to impress.
It may now be well to take for illustration one or two of the departments of literature—not necessarily of the first consequence—in which our debt to Greek is on the surface.
A striking form of Greek composition was the Pindaric Ode. Our English poets from Cowley to Swinburne have shown a marked fondness for this form. Cowley, Congreve, and Gray deliberately affect even the title Pindaric Ode, acknowledging the source of their inspiration and avowing the imitativeness of their work. The poet Mason speaks of “a Pindar’s rapture in the lyre of Gray.” Cowley, as has been mentioned already, is called on his tombstone the “English Pindar.” Pope’s Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day is meant to be, even if it does not succeed in being, Pindaric in both shape and spirit. It is full, too, of allusion to things Greek, to the ship Argo, to the underworld, with Phlegethon and Sisyphus and Ixion, to the yellow meads of asphodel, to Orpheus and Eurydice. Dryden’s Song for St. Cecilia’s Day and his Alexander’s Feast are imitations of Pindar and Simonides. Gray’s Progress of Poesy is of the same stamp. When he circulated the poem in manuscript, he called it an “Ode in the Greek manner.” His Bard belongs to the same category. Meanwhile the words which open the Progress of Poesy
Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings
profess a debt to Aeolis, the country of the lyric Sappho and Alcaeus. We must add Collins and Shelley to the list of those over whom Pindar has exercised his charm. Shelley’s Ode to Liberty, with its panegyric stanzas on Athens, is at least as Pindaric as the avowed Pindarics of Gray or Cowley.
We have already referred to that rather artificial and not very important form of composition called the “pastoral,” whether it be the “pastoral idyll” or the “pastoral elegy”—an idealizing picture of the shepherd’s life, or an idealistic “shepherd’s lament.” We may here briefly revert to the subject.
Of this class we have in English literature such works as the Shepheard’s Calender of Spenser, a manifest and avowed imitation of Virgil through the Italians. As, however, Virgil is but the pupil of Theocritus in this kind, it is to the Greek Theocritus that we are in the end brought back. Spenser’s imitation is, indeed, anything but good. He mixes up “Fair Elisa, queen of shepherds all” with talk of Parnassus, Helicon, Pan, Cynthia and the nymphs (whom he calls “ladies of the lake”). Colin Clout, Cuddie, and Hobbinol are found side by side with Tityrus and invocations to Calliope. Moreover he justly incurs the reproach of Sir Philip Sidney by his affectation of an archaic language for his shepherds, a language which never was on land or sea. Says Sidney, “that same framing of his style to an old rusticke language I dare not allow; since neither Theocritus in Greek, Virgil in Latin, nor Sannazaro in Italian, did affect it.” We have also the youthful Pastorals of Pope, in which the poet begins by announcing his studied imitation:
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred spring,