those
of his first pieces, and of like intensity and boldness; and that Leo
Ornstein is sure of reaching the high heaven of art for which he seemed
and still seems bound.

Bloch

Once before, East and West have met and merged. On the plains where the
soldiers of Darius and Alexander slaughtered one another, and where the
Macedonian phalanxes recoiled before the castellated elephants of Porus,
a marriage was consummated. Hovering over the heads of the opposing
armies, the angel of Europe and the angel of Asia embraced, and sent
their lifebloods coursing through each other. Passage was made to India.
The two continents slowly faced about. Two reservoirs that had been
accumulating for eons the precious distillations of two great centers of
the human race began mingling their essences. In whatever the East did,
there was evident the hand of the West. In whatever the West thought
there was visible the prismatic intelligence of the East. The gods of
Greece showed their smooth foreheads on the banks of the Ganges.
Oriental systems refracted the blonde Mediterranean light into an
hundred subtle tints. But the empire of Alexander crumbled, Parthians
annihilated the legions of Crassus. Persians and Seljuks and Ottomans
barred Europe from the East. Steady communication ceased. Asia withdrew
under her cloudy mysterious curtains. Legendary fumes, Cathay, Zipango,
the Indias of the Great Ocean, arose. Once again, the two basins were
cut off. Once again, each began secreting a substance radically
different from the other's, a substance growing more individual with
each elapsing century. For almost two thousand years, East and West
developed away one from the other.

And now, a second time, in our own hour, the two have drawn close and
confronted each other. Once again, a fusion has taken place. We are
to-day in the midst of a movement likely to surpass the period of
Hellenization in duration and extent. This time, perhaps, no dramatic
march of Macedonians to the banks of the Indus has served to make the
connection. Nevertheless, in the image of Amy Lowell, guns have again
shown themselves keys. For a couple of centuries, great gates have been
swinging throughout the East at the behest of frigates and armed
merchantmen. And slowly, once again, Asia has been seeping into Europe.
Warm spicy gusts have been drifting over the West, steadily permeating
the air. At first, there appeared to be nothing serious in the
infiltration.