ites
from time to time and in the intermediate passages?

Quite true.

But when the poet speaks in the person of another, may we not say that
he assimilates his style to that of the person who, as he informs you,
is going to speak?

Certainly.

And this assimilation of himself to another, either by the use of voice
or gesture, is the imitation of the person whose character he assumes?

Of course.

Then in this case the narrative of the poet may be said to proceed by
way of imitation?

Very true.

Or, if the poet everywhere appears and never conceals himself, then
again the imitation is dropped, and his poetry becomes simple narration.
However, in order that I may make my meaning quite clear, and that you
may no more say, 'I don't understand,' I will show how the change might
be effected. If Homer had said, 'The priest came, having his daughter's
ransom in his hands, supplicating the Achaeans, and above all the
kings;' and then if, instead of speaking in the person of Chryses,
he had continued in his own person, the words would have been, not
imitation, but simple narration. The passage would have run as follows
(I am no poet, and therefore I drop the metre), 'The priest came and
prayed the gods on behalf of the Greeks that they might capture Troy
and return safely home, but begged that they would give him back his
daughter, and take the ransom which he brought, and respect the God.
Thus he spoke, and the other Greeks revered the priest and assented. But
Agamemnon was wroth, and bade him depart and not come again, lest the
staff and chaplets of the God should be of no avail to him--the daughter
of Chryses should not be released, he said--she should grow old with him
in Argos. And then he told him to go away and not to provoke him, if he
intended to get home unscathed. And the old man went away in fear and
silence, and, when he had left the camp, he called upon Apollo by his
many names, reminding him of everything which he had done pleasing to
him, whether in building his temples, or in offering sacrifice, and
praying that his good deeds might be returned to him, and that the
Achaeans might expiate his tears by the arrows of the god,'--and so on.
In this way the whole becomes simple narrative.

I understand, he said.

Or you may suppose the opposite case--that the intermediate passages are
omitted, and the dialogue only left.

That also, he said, I understand; you mean, for example, as in tragedy.

You ha