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 have conceived my meaning perfectly; and if I mistake not, what you
failed to apprehend before is now made clear to you, that poetry and
mythology are, in some cases, wholly imitative--instances of this are
supplied by tragedy and comedy; there is likewise the opposite style,
in which the my poet is the only speaker--of this the dithyramb affords
the best example; and the combination of
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