They had several others, who polished their language and
pitched their instruments with admirable skill; several who glued
over their thin and flimsy gaberdines many bright feathers from the
widespread downs of Ionia, and the richly cultivated rocks of
Attica.
"'Some of them have spoken from inspiration; for thou art not to
suppose that from the heathen were withheld all the manifestations
of the Lord. We do agree at Oxford that the Pollio of Virgil is our
Saviour. True, it is the dullest and poorest poem that a nation not
very poetical hath bequeathed unto us; and even the versification,
in which this master excelled, is wanting in fluency and sweetness.
I can only account for it from the weight of the subject. Two
verses, which are fairly worth two hundred such poems, are from
another pagan; he was forced to sigh for the church without knowing
her. He saith, -
"May I gaze upon thee when my latest hour is come!
May I hold thy hand when mine faileth me!"
This, if adumbrating the church, is the most beautiful thought that
ever issued from the heart of man; but if addressed to a wanton, as
some do opine, is filth from the sink, nauseating and insufferable.
"'William! that which moveth the heart most is the best poetry; it
comes nearest unto God, the source of all power.
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