is way of introducing the
subject. The facts only show that the poems are liked by persons of
refinement and wealth. I hope to make you like some of them, but the
difficulties of so doing are considerable, because of the extremely
English character of some pieces and the extremely Greek tone of others.
There is also some uneven work. The poet is not in all cases successful.
Sometimes he tried to write society verse, and his society verse must be
considered a failure. The best pieces are his Greek pieces and some
compositions on love subjects of a most delicate and bewitching kind.

Of course the very name "Ionica" suggests Greek work, a collection of
pieces in Ionic style. But you must not think that this means only
repetitions of ancient subjects. This author brings the Greek feeling back
again into the very heart of English life sometimes, or makes an English
fact illustrate a Greek fable. Some delightful translations from the Greek
there are, but less than half a dozen in all.

I scarcely know how to begin--what piece to quote first. But perhaps the
little fancy called "Mimnermus in Church" is the best known, and the one
which will best serve to introduce us to the character of Cory. Before
quoting it, however, I must explain the title briefly. Mimnermus was an
old Greek philosopher and poet who thought that all things in the world
are temporary, that all hope of a future life is vain, that there is
nothing worth existing for except love, and that without affection one
were better dead. There are, no doubt, various modern thinkers who tell
you much the same thing, and this little poem exhibits such modern feeling
in a Greek dress. I mean that we have here a picture of a young man, a
young English scholar, listening in church to Christian teaching, but
answering that teaching with the thought of the old Greeks. There is of
course one slight difference; the modern conception of love is perhaps a
little wider in range than that of the old Greeks. There is more of the
ideal in it.

MIMNERMUS IN CHURCH

You promise heavens free from strife,
Pure truth, and perfect change of will;
But sweet, sweet is this human life,
So sweet, I fain would breathe it still;
Your chilly stars I can forego,
This warm kind world is all I know.

You say there is no substance here,
One great reality above:
Back from that void I shrink in fear
And child-like hide myself in love;
Show me what angels feel.