world’s greatest writers will always rest upon those sections, such as the endings of his third, fourth and fifth books, where the material is already in its essence poetic, and gives scope to his supreme gift for sensuous description, or for passionate[Pg 62] ethical discourse. It is to be feared that if a poet of equal genius with Lucretius were to take modern psychology, the physics of Einstein, or the philosophy of Mr. Russell as his subject-matter, with the intention of seriously expounding and not of merely poetising them, he would be unable to avoid similar desert tracts of unpoetical reasoning. But it is a narrow view which can deny that verse should ever be employed, unless the result be poetry. If an artist in language is able to set forth philosophic matter that is of great intrinsic interest more luminously and attractively in verse than could be done in prose (which is precisely what Lucretius did with the crabbed sentences of Epicurus), let us not grudge him the praise and gratitude that are his due. However, it seems unlikely that scientific philosophy will ever again inspire an expository treatise such as the De Rerum Natura. It might indeed enter as an all-pervading[Pg 63] influence into some comprehensive epic design, just as religion and scholastic philosophy pervade the Divina Commedia. What is certain is that, as there have always been, so there always will be philosophically minded poets, and that they will discover for themselves what forms serve their purpose best.

[Pg 61]

[Pg 62]

[Pg 63]

The treatise, as a poetic form, would seem to be more suitable for subjects that are neither strictly philosophic, nor scientific. Yet though we have had our Seasons, Night Thoughts, and Sofas in plenty, Virgil’s Georgics remain still unrivalled. Why should not an ingenious and erudite poet take some such pregnant subject as Architecture, the Garden, or the Evolution of Religion, or if he have the knowledge and the boldness, Machinery, Medicine or Economics, and dispute Virgil’s supremacy in this field, as Virgil once did Hesiod’s? How fascinating would he not find the problem of wedding[Pg 64] didactic and historical exposition to perfect loveliness of texture? What opportunities for description and reflection? And with what entrancing episodes, serious or playful, might he not delight our fancy?

[Pg 64]

Not the least noble, nor the least exacting of mistresses, is the Muse of Satire. “Facit indignatio versum,” said Juvenal. But alas, how fumbling a 

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