s reality of subject is clear; it is because such poetry has
symbolically to re-create the actual fact and the actual particulars of
human existence in terms of a general significance--the reader must feel
that life itself has submitted to plastic imagination. No fiction will
ever have the air, so necessary for this epic symbolism, not merely of
representing, but of unmistakably _being_, human experience. This might
suggest that history would be the thing for an epic poet; and so it
would be, if history were superior to legend in poetic reality. But,
simply as substance, there is nothing to choose between them; while
history has the obvious disadvantage of being commonly too strict in the
manner of its events to allow of creative freedom. Its details will
probably be so well known, that any modification of them will draw more
attention to discrepancy with the records than to achievement thereby of
poetic purpose. And yet modification, or at least suppression and
exaggeration, of the details of history will certainly be necessary. Not
to declare what happened, and the results of what happened, is the
object of an epic; but to accept all this as the mere material in which
a single artistic purpose, a unique, vital symbolism may be shaped. And
if legend, after passing for innumerable years through popular
imagination, still requires to be shaped at the hands of the epic poet,
how much more must the crude events of history require this! For it is
not in events as they happen, however notably, that man may see symbols
of vital destiny, but in events as they are transformed by plastic
imagination.

Yet it has been possible to use history as the material of great epic
poetry; Camoens and Tasso did this--the chief subject of the _Lusiads_
is even contemporary history. But evidently success in these cases was
due to the exceptional and fortunate fact that the fixed notorieties of
history were combined with a strange and mysterious geography. The
remoteness and, one might say, the romantic possibilities of the places
into which Camoens and Tasso were led by their themes, enable
imagination to deal pretty freely with history. But in a little more
than ten years after Camoens glorified Portugal in an historical epic,
Don Alonso de Ercilla tried to do the same for Spain. He puts his action
far enough from home: the Spaniards are conquering Chili. But the world
has grown smaller and more familiar in the interval: the astonishing
thin