Greek nor Hebrew, indeed, contemplated
nature as we do in modern times. Neither was haunted as with a passion
by the beauty and grandeur of woods and streams and hills. To the
Hellene, as to Dr. Johnson or to Sydney Smith, nature was but a
background for man. Homer's moons and clouds, rainbows and hail-storms,
are used for the most part only for similitudes. To the Hebrew the glory
of the Heavens and the wonders of the deep are meet subjects upon which
to praise the Lord for his wonderful works. At the most, the Hellene
found in nature a sensuous delight, a part of the multitudinous joy
which, in a healthy condition, he found in all life. It is a mistake,
indeed, to suppose that the Greek was insensible to natural beauty. The
daffodils, crocuses, anemones, and hyacinths, the countless laughter of
the AEgean and the gleaming Cyclades, were delightful to his eye, the
trill of the nightingale to his ear; but neither he nor the Hebrew could
have felt much sympathy with the state of mind of a Wordsworth, to whom
nature, in and for itself, had the effect of a living and inspiring
power. Neither would have understood Wordsworth's--

To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Of the Hebrew conception of nature as shown in the Psalms or the book of
Job we need say nothing. Let us by an instance or two show just how far
the Greek appreciation of it went. In Theocritus a number of friends
walk into the country to a harvest festival:--"There we reclined on deep
beds of fragrant lentisk, and rejoicing we lay in new-stripped leaves of
the vine. And high above our heads waved many a poplar, while close at
hand the sacred water from the nymphs' own cave welled forth with
murmurs musical. On shadowy boughs the brown cicalas kept their
chattering toil. Far off the little owl cried; in the thick thorn-brake
the lark and finches sang; the ringdove moaned; the yellow bees were
flitting round the springs. All breathed the scent of opulent summer, of
the season of fruits. The pears at our feet and apples by our side were
rolling plentiful; the tender branches, with wild plums laden, were
earthward bowed." Here, it will be seen, the delight is purely sensuous,
a delight in sweet sighs, sweet sounds, sweet smells. In the _OEdipus
Coloneus_ of Sophocles there is a choral song of somewhat higher note
than this: "Stranger, thou hast come to earth's fairest home, to white
Colonus, where the ni