declamation (like drama or lyric) has depths and subtleties of art which
were not possible for the primitive poet. Accordingly we find that, on
the whole, in comparison with "literary" epic, the texture of
"authentic" epic is flat and dull. The story may be superb, and its
management may be superb; but the words in which the story lives do not
come near the grandeur of Milton, or the exquisiteness of Virgil, or the
deliciousness of Tasso. Indeed, if we are to say what is the real
difference between _Beowulf_ and _Paradise Lost_, we must simply say
that _Beowulf_ is not such good poetry. There is, of course, one
tremendous exception; Homer is the one poet of authentic epic who had
sufficient genius to make unfailingly, nobly beautiful poetry within the
strict and hard conditions of purely auricular art. Compare Homer's
ambrosial glory with the descent tap-water of Hesiod; compare his
continuous burnished gleam of wrought metal with the sparse grains that
lie in the sandy diction of all the "authentic" epics of the other
nations. And, by all ancient accounts, the other early Greek epics would
not fare much better in the comparison. Homer's singularity in this
respect is overwhelming; but it is frequently forgotten, and especially
by those who think to help in the Homeric question by comparing him with
other "authentic" epics. Supposing (we can only just suppose it) a case
were made out for the growth rather than the individual authorship of
some "authentic" epic other than Homer; it could never have any bearing
on the question of Homeric authorship, because no early epic is
comparable with the _poetry_ of Homer. Nothing, indeed, is comparable
with the poetry of Homer, except poetry for whose individual authorship
history unmistakably vouches.

So we cannot say that Homer was not as deliberate a craftsman in words
as Milton himself. The scope of his craft was more restricted, as his
repetitions and stock epithets show; he was restricted by the fact that