oetic and fine, are not individualized.

'Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy water-spouts: all thy
waves and thy billows are gone over me.'--_Psalm_ 42.

'Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul. I sink in
deep mire, where there is no standing; I am come into deep waters,
where the floods overflow me.'--_Psalm_ 69.

There are many pictures from the animal world; and these are more
elaborate in Job than elsewhere (see _Job_ xl. and xli.).
Personifications, as we have seen, are many, but Nature is only
called upon to sympathise with man in isolated cases, as, for
instance, in 2 _Samuel_ i.:

'Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be
rain upon you, nor fields of offerings: for there the shield of the
mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as if he had not been
anointed with oil.'

The Cosmos unfolded itself to the Hebrew[3] as one great whole, and
the glance fixed upon a distant horizon missed the nearer lying
detail of phenomena. His imagination ranged the universe with the
wings of the wind, and took vivid note of air, sky, sea, and land,
but only, so to speak, in passing; it never rested there, but hurried
past the boundaries of earth to Jehovah's throne, and from that
height looked down upon creation.

The attitude of the Greek was very different. Standing firmly rooted
in the world of sense, his open mind and his marvellous eye for
beauty appreciated the glorious external world around him down to its
finest detail. His was the race of the beautiful, the first in
history to train all its powers into harmony to produce a culture of
beauty equal in form and contents, and his unique achievement in art
and science enriched all after times with lasting standards of the
great and beautiful.

The influence of classic literature upon the Middle Ages and modern
times has not only endured, but has gone on increasing with the
centuries; so that we must know the position reached by Greece and
Rome as to feeling for Nature, in order to discover whether the line
of advance in the Middle Ages led directly forward or began by a
backward movement--a zigzag.

The terms ancient and modern, naive and sentimental, classic and
romantic, have been shibboleths of culture from Jean Paul, Schiller,
and Hegel, to Vischer. Jean Paul, in his _Vorschule zur Aesthetik_,
compares the ideally simple Greek poetry, with its objectivity,
serenity, and moral grace, with the musical poetr