34 MELD AND HEDGEROW. 



And fragrant thyme, and all the unsown beauty 

 Which in moist grounds the verdant meadows bear j 

 The ox-eye, the sweet-smelling flower of Jove, 

 The chalca, and the much-sung hyacinth, 

 And the low-growing violet, to which 

 Dark Proserpine a darker hue has given. 



They come nearest to our own violets and cowslips — the 

 Unsown beauty of our meadows — to the hawthorn leaf 

 and the high pinewood. I can forget all else that I have 

 read, but it is difficult to forget these even when I will. 

 I read them in English. I had the usual Latin and 

 Greek instruction, but I read them in English deliberately. 

 For the inflexion of the vowel I care nothing ; I prize 

 the idea. Scholars may regard me with scorn. I reply 

 with equal scorn. I say that a great classic thought is 

 greater to an English mind in English words than in 

 any other form, and therein fits best to this our life and 

 day. I read them in English first, and intend to do so 

 to the end. I do not know what set me on these books, 

 but I began them when about eighteen. The first of all 

 was Diogenes Laertius's ' Lives of the Philosophers.' It 

 was a happy choice ; my good genius, I suppose, for you 

 see I was already fairly well read in modern science, and 

 these old Greek philosophies set me thinking backwards, 

 unwinding and unlearning, and getting at that eidolon 

 which is not to be found in the mechanical heavens of 

 this age. I still read him. I still find new things, quite 

 new, because they are so very, very old, and quite true ; 

 and with his help I seem in a measure to look back upon 

 our thoughts now as if I had projected myself a thousand 

 years forward in space. An imperfect book, say the 

 critics. I do not know about that ; his short para- 

 graphs and chapters in their imperfect state convey more 

 freshness to the mind than the thick, laboured volumes 



