they go about dreaming or acting in their own petty sphere,[23] and so he overcharges with technicalities or trivial particulars. Nevertheless one may say that the poetry of action has found better methods since it shook off the influence of fantastic romance, and is distinctly improving: though its strength lies in short pieces repeating some notable incident or dramatic situations bringing out character, which is just where it began originally, and where indeed it is likely to remain, for the epic poem, or heroic verse on the grand scale, may be thought to have disappeared finally. To conclude a very brief and inadequate dissertation, we may, I think, lay it down as a principle of the art, that heroic poetry must be true to circumstances and to character, must have the qualities of simplicity and sincerity, combined with the magnetic power of stirring the heart by showing how men and women can behave when really confronted by danger, death, or irremediable misfortune. Its background, in skilful hands, is the contrast of calm Nature looking on at human strife and sorrow, at stern fortitude and energetic effort in tragic situations. We are reading every day of such situations in the South African War, where there has been no lack of brave men 'so tried and yet so true,' who have found themselves back again suddenly in the rough fighting world of their forefathers, and have felt and acted like the men of old time. There is abundant proof that the English folk can display as much heroism as ever men did; but we may look in vain for the poet who knows how to commemorate their valour and patriotic self-sacrifice in heroic verse. FOOTNOTES: [16] _Anglo-Saxon Review_, June 1900. [17] _Epic and Romance_, p. 15. [18] 'Ay Espana Perdita por un gusto y por La Cava.' _Romance del Rey Rodrigo._ [19] So doth a woman weep, as her husband in death she embraces, Him, who in front of his people and city has fallen in battle, Striving in vain to defend his home from the fate of the vanquished. She there, seeing him die, and gasping his life out before her, Clings to him bitterly moaning. And round her the others, the foemen, Beat her, and bid her arise, and stab at her back with the lances, Dragging her off as a slave to the bondage of labour and sorrow. _Odyssey_, viii. 523-29. [20] _Iliad_, vi. 86-90. [21] Arnold's translation. [22] _Iliad_, xix. 228-29. [23] Lessing. THE WORKS OF LORD BYRON[24]