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Showing posts with label Poet: John Milton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poet: John Milton. Show all posts

Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint -- John Milton

Guest poem submitted by Mark Penney :
(Poem #1602) Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint
 Methought I saw my late espoused saint
 Brought to me, like Alcestis from the grave,
 Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
 Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint.
 Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint
 Purification in the old Law did save,
 And such as yet once more I trust to have
 Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
 Came vested all in white, pure as her mind;
 Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight
 Love, sweetness, goodness in her person shin'd
 So clear as in no face with more delight.
 But oh! As to embrace me she inclin'd,
 I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
-- John Milton
You ask for old poems, I deliver.  This one got missed somehow; the other
famous Milton sonnet we're missing is "How soon hath Time," but I don't like
that one.

This one I've always loved, ever since I first encountered it in high
school. It helps to know that the "saint" in question is Milton's second
wife, whom he'd married when he was already blind.  So the dream in which he
says he sees her is doubly miraculous; it also adds that extra punch to "day
brought back my night."

I love that last line, by the way.  It's one of those lines that happen
every so often that make Milton, despite all the attendant aggravations of
reading him, more than worth the trouble.  The poem creates this shimmering,
white, pure vision of the unseen wife, just beyond reach like a Tantalus
torture.  That last line makes so clear the agony of loss, which he probably
experiences over and over again every time he wakes without her.  On the
flip side, however, we see that heaven is (in the mean time) attainable for
Milton in the form of his dreams.

Obligatory form geekery:  Milton preferred Petrarchian to Shakespearian
sonnet form: the rhyme scheme is abba abba cdc dcd, which is a slight
variation on the usual Petrarchian form for the sestet (cde cde or cde dce).
Unusually for Milton, there's not a real clear change of mood or subject
between the eight and the six.

The Classical reference to Alcestis: she died but was stolen from Hades by
Hercules and restored to her husband Admetus.  The Biblical reference is to
the Levitical purification rite after childbirth; also, with the white robe,
a further reference to the purification of the Resurrection (!).

--Mark

Paradise Lost (excerpt) -- John Milton

Guest poem sent in by Matt Chanoff
(Poem #1213) Paradise Lost (excerpt)
 Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
 Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile
 Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
 The mother of mankind, what time his pride
 Had cast him out from heav'n, with all his host
 Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring
 To set himself in glory above his peers,
 He trusted to have equaled the Most High,
 If he opposed; and with ambitious aim
 Against the throne and monarchy of God
 Raised impious war in heav'n and battle proud
 With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
 Hurled headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky
 With hideous ruin and combustion down
 To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
 In adamantine chains and penal fire,
 Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.
 Nine times the space that measures day and night
 To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
 Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf
 Confounded though immortal: but his doom
 Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
 Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
 Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
 That witnessed huge affliction and dismay
 Mixed with obdúrate pride and steadfast hate:
 At once as far as angels ken he views
 The dismal situation waste and wild,
 A dungeon horrible, on all sides round
 As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames
 No light, but rather darkness visible
 Served only to discover sights of woe,
 Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
 And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
 That comes to all; but torture without end
 Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
 With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed:
 Such place Eternal Justice had prepared
 For those rebellious, here their prison ordained
 In utter darkness, and their portion set
 As far removed from God and light of heav'n
 As from the center thrice to th' utmost pole.
-- John Milton
No Milton has been posted here since 1999. Here's something I've appreciated
during these apocalyptic times. It's from Paradise Lost, right near the
beginning. The lines "Hurled headlong flaming from th'ethereal sky/ With
hideous ruin and combustion down" are, and I think, belong, in the pantheon of
immortal poetry. I'm no Christian, but the embers of that combustion seem all
around us recently.

There's a lot more about Milton than I know described and linked to Poem #106,
Poem #127, Poem #279 and Poem #281.

Matt

L'Allegro -- John Milton

The second part of
(Poem #281) L'Allegro
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the Lantskip round it measures,
Russet Lawns, and Fallows Gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest:
Meadows trim with Daisies pied,
Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.
Towers, and Battlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted Trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a Cottage chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged Oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met,
Are at their savoury dinner set
Of Herbs, and other Country Messes,
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses;
And then in haste her Bower she leaves,
With Thestylis to bind the Sheaves;
Or if the earlier season lead
To the tann'd Haycock in the Mead,
Some times with secure delight
The up-land Hamlets will invite,
When the merry Bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks sound
To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the Chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play
On a Sunshine Holyday,
Till the live-long day-light fail,
Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How Faery Mab the junkets eat,
She was pinch'd, and pull'd she said,
And by the Friar's Lantern led
Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat,
To earn his Cream-bowl duly set,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy Flail hath thresh'd the Corn,
That ten day-labourers could not end,
Then lies him down the Lubber Fiend.
And stretch'd out all the Chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength;
And Crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first Cock his Mattin rings,
Thus done the Tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering Winds soon lull'd asleep.
Tower'd Cites please us then,
And the busy hum of men,
Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold,
With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize,
Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend
To win her Grace, whom all commend,
There let Hymen oft appear
In Saffron robe, with Taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask, and antique Pageantry,
On Summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Jonsons learned Sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child,
Warble his native Wood-notes wild,
    And ever against eating Cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian Airs,
Married to immortal verse
Such as the meeting soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony.
That Orpheus' self may heave his head
From golden slumber on a bed
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear
Such strains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half regain'd Eurydice.
    These delights, if thou canst give,
Mirth with thee, I mean to live.
-- John Milton
There's a wealth of classical allusion in Milton; rather than write any sort of
commentary on this (exquisite) poem, I'll leave you with this

[Glossary]

Aurora: Early morning. According to Grecian mythology, the goddess Aurora,
called by Homer 'rosy-fingered', sets out before the sun, and is the pioneer of
his rising.

Bacchus: In Roman mythology the god of wine. He is represented as a beautiful
youth with black eyes, golden locks, flowing with curls about his shoulders and
filleted with ivy. In peace his robe was purple, in war he was covered with a
panther's skin. His chariot was drawn by panthers.
    Bacchus sprang from the thigh of Zeus. The tale is that Semele asked Zeus to
appear before her in all his glory, but the foolish request proved her death.
Zeus saved the child which was prematurely born by sewing it up in his thigh
till it came to maturity. The Arabian tradition is that the infant Bacchus was
nourished during infancy in a cave of Mount Meros. As 'Meros' is Greek for a
thigh, the Greek fable is readily explained.

Cerberus: A grim, watchful keeper, house-porter, guardian, etc. Cerberus,
according to Roman mythology, is the three-headed dog that keeps the entrance of
the infernal regions. Hercules dragged the monster to earth, and then let him go
again.
    Orpheus lulled Cerberus to sleep with his lyre; and the Sibyl who conducted
Aeneas through the Inferno, also threw the dog into a profound sleep with a cake
seasoned with poppies and honey.
   The origin of the fable of Cerberus is from the custom of the ancient
Egyptians of guarding graves with dogs.

Cimmerian Darkness: Homer (possibly from some story as to the Arctic night)
supposes the Cimmerians to dwell in a land `beyond the ocean-stream,' where the
sun never shone. (Odys., xi. 14.)

Corydon: A swain; a brainless, love-sick spooney. One of the shepherds in
Virgil's eclogues.

Elysium, Elysian Fields: The Paradise or Happy Land of the Greek poets. Elysian
(the adjective) means happy, delightful.

Eurydice: Wife of Orpheus, killed by a serpent on her wedding night. Orpheus
went down to the infernal regions to seek her, and was promised she should
return on condition that he looked not back till she had reached the upper
world. When the poet got to the confines of his journey, he turned his head to
see if Eurydice were following, and she was instantly caught back again into
Hades.

Friar's Lanthorn: the Will o' the Wisp.

Hebe: Goddess of youth, and cup-bearer to the celestial gods. She had the power
of restoring the aged to youth and beauty. (Greek mythology.)

Hymen: God of marriage, a sort of overgrown Cupid. His symbols are a
bridal-torch and veil in his hand.

Mab: The 'fairies' midwife'- i.e. employed by the fairies as midwife of dreams
(to deliver man's brain of dreams). Thus when Romeo says, "I dreamed a dream
to-night", Mercutio replies, "Oh, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you". Sir
Walter Scott follows in the same track: "I have a friend who is peculiarly
favoured with the visits of Queen Mab", meaning with dreams (The Antiquary).
When Mab is called 'queen', it does not mean sovereign, for Titania was Oberon's
wife, but simply female; both midwives and monthly nurses were anciently called
queens or queans. Quen or cwen in Saxon means neither more nor less than woman;
so 'elf-queen', and the Danish ellequinde, mean female elf, and not 'queen of
the elves'. Excellent descriptions of 'Mistress Mab' are given by Shakespeare
(Romeo and Juliet, i. 4), by Ben Jonson, by Herrick, and by Drayton in
Nymphidea. (Mab, Welsh, a baby.)

Orpheus: A Thracian poet who could move even inanimate things by his music. When
his wife Eurydice died he went into the infernal regions, and so charmed King
Pluto that Eurydice was released from death on the condition that Orpheus would
not look back till he reached the earth. He was just about to place his foot on
the earth when he turned round, and Eurydice vanished from him in an instant.
    The tale of Orpheus is thus explained: Aeoneus, King of Thesprotia, was for
his cruelty called Pluto, and having seized Eurydieas she fled from Aristaeos,
detained her captive. Orpheus obtained her release on certain conditions, which
he violated, and lost her a second time.
   There is rather a striking resemblance between the fate of Eurydice and that
of Lot's wife. The former was emerging from hell, the latter from Sodom. Orpheus
looked back and Eurydice was snatched away, Lot's wife looked back and was
converted into a pillar of salt.

Phyllis: A country girl. (Virgil: Eclogues, iii. and v.)

Pluto: The grave, or the god of that region where the dead go to before they are
admitted into Elysium or sent to Tartaros.
     "Brothers, be of good cheer, this night we shall sup with Pluto." -
Leonidas to the three hundred Spartans before the battle of Thermopylae.

Styx: The river of Hate, called by Milton 'abhorred Styx, the flood of burning
hate' (Paradise Lost, ii. 577). It was said to flow nine times round the
infernal regions. (Greek, stugeo, hate.)
    The Styx is a river of Egypt, and the tale is that Isis collected the
various parts of OsIris (murdered by Typhon) and buried them in secrecy on the
banks of the Styx. The classic fables about the Styx are obviously of Egyptian
origin. Charon, as Diodorus informs us, is an Egyptian word for a 'ferryman',
and styx means 'hate'.

Thestylis: Any rustic maiden. In the Idylls of Theocritos, Thestylis is a young
female slave.

Zephyr: The west wind, the son of AEolus and Aurora, and the lover of Flora.
(Roman mythology.)

All these and much more can be found in that wonderful, wonderful reference
book, Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, available online at
http://www.bibliomania.com/Reference/PhraseAndFable/

And of course, don't miss the first part of this poem, at poem #279

thomas.

L'Allegro -- John Milton

The first part of
(Poem #279) L'Allegro
Hence, loathed Melancholy
    Of Cerberus, and blackest midnight born,
In Stygian Cave forlorn.
    'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy,
Find out some uncouth cell,
    Where brooding darkness spreads his jealous wings,
And the night-Raven sings;
    There under Ebon shades, and low-brow'd Rocks,
As ragged as thy Locks,
    In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
But come thou Goddess fair and free,
In Heav'n yclept Euphrosyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two sister Graces more
To Ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as some Sager sing)
The frolic Wind that breathes the Spring,
Zephyr with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,
There on Beds of Violets blew,
And fresh-blown Roses wash'd in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So bucksome, blithe, and debonair.
    Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods, and Becks, and Wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crew
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the Lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine,
Or the twisted Eglantine,
While the Cock with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the Barn door,
Stoutly struts his Dames before,
Oft list'ning how the Hounds and Horn
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn,
From the side of some Hoar Hill,
Through the high wood echoing shrill.
Some time walking not unseen
By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green,
Right against the Eastern gate,
Where the great Sun begins his state,
Rob'd in flames, and Amber light,
The clouds in thousand Liveries dight,
While the Plowman near at hand,
Whistles o'er the Furrow'd Land,
And the Milkmaid singeth blithe,
And the Mower whets his sithe,
And every Shepherd tells his tale
Under the Hawthorn in the dale.
-- John Milton
Milton's genius for epic poetry has meant that he's been sadly under-represented
here on the Minstrels: his greatest works don't lend themselves very readily to
the poem-a-day format. Which is sad, because there are many readers (including
myself, sometimes) who feel that he ranks second only to Shakespeare in the
world of Eng. Lit.

Still, rather than omit him completely [1], I've chosen to break his major
(non-epic) poems - L'Allegro, Il Penseroso, Lycidas - into multiple
instalments... this seemed to me to be the lesser of the two evils.

Anyway, on to the poem.

Like Shakespeare before him, Milton had an astonishing facility for creating
phrases that have passed into everyday speech [2], as a quick scan of L'Allegro
will reveal. And again like Shakespeare, it's not just a few phrases here and
there that have entered the collective unconscious; rather, the entire poem
sounds and feels 'just right'. And this is thanks to Milton's consummate mastery
of the language - as a craftsman of words, he rarely (if ever) makes a mistake.
His scansion is flawless, his use of alliteration and allusion unobtrusive yet
effective, his construction elegant and his command of 'atmosphere' nonpareil.

But it would be wrong - indeed, it would be missing the point entirely - to
think of Milton as merely a paragon of technique (such as Swinburne, say, or
perhaps Sitwell). What makes him truly great are his themes: he handles epic
ideas with unparalleled skill and immense power. Here, finally, is a poet whose
subjects match the grandeur and eloquence of his verse.

thomas.

PS. 'Grandeur' - ah, that's the word I was searching for. Milton is all about
grandeur - see, for instance, the dictionary definition of 'Miltonic'.
PPS. As a completely irrelevant aside, this is one of my mother's favourite
poems. Hi Mom!

[1] Or run some of his lesser-known sonnets, the which I'm not a great fan of,
[2] Though sometimes I find myself wondering about cause and effect here: is it
the power of the phrases themselves that ensures their longevity, or is it the
greatness (and deserved popularity) of the poems which contain these phrases?
And is it possible to separate the two in the first place? Hmm.

[Minstrels Links]

We've run two poems by Milton before, both sonnets. The first was the ubiquitous
'On His Blindness', at poem #106

The second, 'On Shakespeare', featured as part of a weeklong theme on the
Minstrels of poets writing about other poets: poem #127.

I make no secrets of my utter devotion to Shakespeare; you can read several of
his poem (and much much more) at http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels ,
where all our poems are archived.

On Shakespear -- John Milton

This week's theme: a series of poems in tribute to other poets.
(Poem #127) On Shakespear
What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thy self a live-long Monument.
For whilst toth' shame of slow-endeavouring art,
Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took
Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving,
Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp dost lie,
That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.
-- John Milton
This is one of Milton's earlier works (1630), and the language is slightly
more archaic than, say 'On His Blindness' (1655), but still understandable.
The verse also seems, IMO, a lot less mature - it is interesting to compare
this to 'On His Blindness' and note Milton's development as a poet. Also
interesting is the comparison of his sentiments with those expressed in
several of the Bard's sonnets - Shakespeare, as noted earlier, frequently
returned to the theme of time, and the immortality conferred by poetry. The
entire poem, in fact, seems deliberately influenced by Shakespeare (for
example, the opening couplet, with it's stones/bones rhyme, might be a
reference to Shakespeare's epitaph[1]).

m.

[1] "Good Friends, for Jesus' sake forbear,
To dig the bones enclosed here!
Blest be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones."

On His Blindness -- John Milton

Rectifying a serious omission in the list of covered poets...
(Poem #106) On His Blindness
 When I consider how my light is spent
     Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
     And that one talent which is death to hide
     Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
 To serve therewith my Maker, and present
     My true account, lest he returning chide,
     "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?"
     I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
 That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need
    Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
    Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
    And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
    They also serve who only stand and wait."
-- John Milton
Milton is not really one of my favourite poets, but this in no way detracts
from his obvious merits. The poem above is one of his most famous[1], and
certainly one of the more famous sonnets around. Like most of Milton's
poetry, it is explicitly religious; this does, I think, give it a slightly
anachronistic feel today, but it was far from uncommon in his time. Like a
number of famous poems, most of this one's impact lies in its last line,
which provides a beautiful counterpoint to the rest of the poem, and which
is far more famous than the sonnet itself.

[1] always excepting 'Paradise Lost'

m.

Notes:

Form: sonnet: abbaabbacdecde
1. The date of composition is uncertain, Milton's blindness, to which this
   is the first reference in his poetry, became virtually complete in 1652,
   but if the arrangement of his sonnets is (as it elsewhere appears to be)
   chronological, the date must be, like that of Sonnet XVIII, 1655. First
   printed in Poems, 1673.

   light: power of vision, to be taken in conjunction with "this dark
   world.'' In a letter of 1654 Milton refers to a very faint
   susceptibility to light still remaining to him.

2. Ere half my days: we must not expect mathematical accuracy. But if we
   remember that Milton is speaking about his career in God's service, take
   its beginning in the avowed dedication to that service in Sonnet VII
   (1632), and assume the scriptural life-span of three score years and ten
   (which would mean life till 1678), 1652 falls before, and even 1655 does
   not extend beyond, the half-way mark of Milton's expected career of
   service.

3-6. The allusion is to the parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30);
     death, like the outer darkness into which the unprofitable servant was
     cast, stands for the utmost in punishment; the Talent was a measure of
     weight and hence of value; there is here, of course, a play on the word
     in its modern sense of mental gift or endowment, in Milton's case his
     gift of poetry.

8. fondly: foolishly.

 -- from <http://library.utoronto.ca/www/utel/rp/authors/milton.html>

Biography and Assessment

  Milton's sonnets (he only wrote a few, but they are so well-known that his
  variation is called the Miltonic sonnet) retain the original rhyme scheme
  of the Petrarchian or Italian sonnet, but completely get rid of the
  "volte", or change or perspective between the octet and sestet. The result
  is that the 14-line stanza becomes a monolith. An astounding thing is that
  it turns out to be just the right length, even for wide-minded (and
  occasionally long-winded) Milton.

        -- Bob Blair

  The major sonnets have much poetical as well as autobiographical interest,
  and as a group they illustrate (with "Lycidas") both in texture and rhythm
  the beginnings of the grand style (i.e., a literary style marked by a
  sustained and lofty dignity and sublimity) that was to have full scope in
  Paradise Lost. One is less conscious of sonnet structure and of rhymes
  than of a single massive unit that approaches a paragraph of Milton's
  blank verse.

        -- EB

Milton, John

 b. Dec. 9, 1608, London, Eng.
 d. Nov. 8, 1674, Chalfont St. Giles, Buckinghamshire

  one of the greatest poets of the English language. He also was a noted
  historian, scholar, pamphleteer, and civil servant for the
  Parliamentarians and the Puritan Commonwealth.

  Milton ranks second only to Shakespeare among English poets; his writings
  and his influence are an important part of the history of English
  literature, culture, and libertarian thought. He is best known for
  Paradise Lost, which is generally regarded as the greatest epic poem in
  the English language. Milton's prose works, however, are also important as
  a valuable interpretation of the Puritan revolution, and they have their
  place in modern histories of political and religious thought.

        -- EB

  A more complete biogaphy may be found at
  <http://www.gale.com/gale/poetry/poetset.html>

And since no biography of Milton would be compelete without a short note on
Paradise Lost:

  By 1650 Milton had given up the idea of composing a British epic. Instead
  he chose what was considered the most momentous event, next to the life
  and death of Christ, in the world's history--the fall of mankind from
  grace. Paradise Lost is an epic poem written in blank verse--i.e.,
  unrhymed iambic pentameter verse. It tells the story of Satan's rebellion
  against God and his expulsion from heaven and the subsequent temptation
  and expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden.

  By Milton's time the Fall of Man had already received innumerable
  literary treatments, narrative and dramatic, so that the simple tale in
  Genesis and the more shadowy role of Satan in heaven, earth, and hell
  had acquired a good deal of interpretative and concrete embellishment.
  So the main motives and events of Paradise Lost had abundant literary
  precedent, though they were handled with powerful originality; Milton,
  like a Greek dramatist, was reworking a story familiar in outline to his
  audience. His story, moreover, gave him the advantage of immemorial
  belief and association in the minds of his earlier readers. This
  advantage no longer operates in the same way--although, for modern
  readers, the fable still possesses at least the immemorial and universal
  import of archetypal myth.

        -- EB