But I believe most of the importance in the meaning of the word
epic, when it is reasonably used, will be found in what is written
above. Apart from the specific form of epic, it shares much of its
ultimate intention with the greatest kind of drama (though not with all
drama). And just as drama, whatever grandeur of purpose it may attempt,
must be a good play, so epic must be a good story. It will tell its tale
both largely and intensely, and the diction will be carried on the
volume of a powerful, flowing metre. To distinguish, however, between
merely narrative poetry, and poetry which goes beyond being mere
narrative into the being of epic, must often be left to feeling which
can scarcely be precisely analysed. A curious instance of the
difficulty in exactly defining epic (but not in exactly deciding what is
epic) may be found in the work of William Morris. Morris left two long
narrative poems, _The Life and Death of Jason_, and _The Story of Sigurd
the Volsung_.
I do not think anyone need hesitate to put _Sigurd_ among the epics; but
I do not think anyone who will scrupulously compare the experience of
reading _Jason_ with the experience of reading _Sigurd_, can help
agreeing that _Jason_ should be kept out of the epics. There is nothing
to choose between the subjects of the two poems. For an Englishman,
Greek mythology means as much as the mythology of the North. And I
should say that the bright, exact diction and the modest metre of
_Jason_ are more interesting and attractive than the diction, often
monotonous and vague, and the metre, often clumsily vehement, of
_Sigurd_.
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