sion for him than
the voice of man affords, and no instrument of music will ever rival in
power the flowing of the music of the spheres through his lips. In all
its tones, from the chanting of the magi which compelled the elements,
to those gentle voices which guide the dying into peace, there is a
power which will never be stricken from tympan or harp, for in all
speech there is life, and with the greatest speech the deep tones of
another Voice may mingle. Has not the Lord spoken through His prophets?
And man, when he has returned to himself, and to the knowledge of
himself, may find a greater power in his voice than those which he has
painfully harnessed to perform his will, in steamship or railway. It is
through drama alone that the writer can summon, even if vicariously,
so great a power to his aid; and it is possible we yet may hear on the
stage, not merely the mimicry of human speech, but the old forgotten
music which was heard in the duns of great warriors to bow low their
faces in their hands. Dear O'Grady, if we do not succeed it is not for
you to blame us, for our aims are at least as high as your own.

1902

THE CHARACTER OF HEROIC LITERATURE

Lady Gregory, a fairy godmother, has given to Young Ireland the gift of
her Cuchulain of Muirthemne, which should be henceforward the book of
its dream. I do not doubt but there will be a great change in the
next generation, for the character of many children will have grown to
maturity brooding over the memories of heroes who were themselves half
children, half demigods. Though the hero tales will have their greatest
power over the young, no one mind could measure their depth. They seem
simple and primitive, yet they draw us strangely aside from life, and
the emotions they awaken are not simple but complex. Here are twenty
tales, and they are so alike in imaginative character that they seem all
to have poured from one mind; and to these twenty we could add a hundred
others, all endlessly fertile in difference of incident, but all seeming
to own the same imaginative creator. It was so for many centuries,
and then the maker of the song seems to have grown weary, and distinct
voices not overladen with the tradition of the ages were heard; and
today every one wanders in a path of his own, finding or losing the way,
the truth, and the life of art in the free play of his desires. There
was something more to cause this later period of diverse utterance than
the i