abundant fruit; but it should not be allowed to obscure the merit,
nor the value, of the primitive intuition on which it was based.

It must be evident that similar examples might be multiplied
indefinitely, and certain of them will be adduced when typical
nature-myths are under more detailed consideration. It is
because of these germ truths enshrined in the ancient myths that
so many bygone modes of thought and expression last on into
the new order. Ruskin, in genuine mythological style, often
used the term "gods," and explains his meaning thus: "By gods,
in the plural, I mean the totality of spiritual powers delegated by
the Lord of the universe to do in their several heights, or offices,
parts of His will respecting man, or the world that man is
imprisoned in; not as myself knowing, or in security believing,
that there are such, but in meekness accepting the testimony and
belief of all ages . . . myself knowing for indisputable fact, that
no true happiness exists, nor is any good work ever done by
human creatures, but in the sense or imagination of such
presences."

The nature-mystic need not be ashamed of mythology. Sympathetically
studied, it affords abundant proof of the working of intuition
and mystic insight. It enabled multitudes of men, long
before science and philosophy became conscious aims, to
enter into some of the deepest truths of existence, and
to live as members of a vast spiritual hierarchy embracing earth
and heaven.

CHAPTER XIII

POETRY AND NATURE MYSTICISM

What a charm the nature deities of Greece and Rome can still
exercise! How large the place they still occupy in poetry, art,
and general culture! At times some of our moderns are tempted
to look back with a very real measure of regret to the golden age
of mythology, feeling that in comparison the present is often
sadly dull and sordid. Wordsworth's great sonnet gives classical
expression to this mood, and rises to a white heat of
indignation:

"Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,--
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn."

It may be said that the poet is carried away by the feeling of the
moment. It finds expression, however, more calmly, though no
less decidedly, in a less well-known passage:

"O fancy, what an age was