She turned, and at her turning came a fragrant airOf godhead, and her robe grew long; ambrosial hairFlashed, and a rosy brightness on her neck, and allThe goddess in her going was revealed. His callFollowed...

My son, you’ve seen the temporary fireand the eternal fire; you have reachedthe place past which my powers cannot see.I’ve brought you here through intellect and art;from now on, let your pleasure be your guide;you’re...

…[T]he three greatest works are those of Homer, Dante and Shakespeare.These are closely followed by the works of Virgil and Milton.

Death’s brother, sleep.

Each of us bears his own Hell.

But the queen–too long she has suffered the pain of love,hour by hour nursing the wound with her lifeblood,consumed by the fire buried in her heart. […]His looks, his words, they pierce her heart and...

The signs of the old flame, I know them well.I pray that the earth gape deep enough to take me downor the almighty Father blast me with one bolt to the shades,the pale, glimmering shades...

the dank night is sweeping down from the skyand the setting stars incline our heads to sleep.

..and why the winter suns so rush to bathe themselves in the seaand what slows down the nights to a long lingering crawl…

Primary Epic is great, but not with the greatness of the later kind. In Homer, its greatness lies in the human and personal tragedy built up against this background of meaningless flux. It is all...