been yet more explicit than in fact he is. We cannot but regret that,
however unjustly, he should have laid himself open to the charge of
desiring to turn poetry into sermons. But it is bare justice to point
out that such a charge cannot fairly be brought against him; or that
it can only be brought with such qualifications as rob it of its sting.

On the other matter the record of Sidney is yet clearer. By "well
doing" he does not mean, as is too often meant, mere abstinence from
evil, but the active pursuit of whatsoever things are manly, noble,
and of good report. It is not only the "temperance of Diomedes"--
though temperance too may be conceived as an active virtue--but the
wisdom of Ulysses, the patriotism of Aneas, "the soon repenting pride
of Agamemnon", the valour of Achilles--it is courage, above all courage,
that stirs his soul in the great works of ancient poetry. It is the
same quality that moves him in the ballads and romances of the moderns.
"Certainly I must confess my own barbarousness; I never heard the old
song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than
with a trumpet." And again: "Truly I have known men that, even with
reading _Amadis de Gaule_ (which, God knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect
poesy), have found their hearts moved to the exercise of courtesy,
liberality, and especially courage." The man who wrote these words had
no starved conception of what poetry should be.

Once again. Sidney has small patience with those who would limit art
by the banishment of all that recalls the baser side of life. "Now,
as in geometry, the oblique must be known as well as the right. So in
the actions of our life, who seeth not the filthiness of evil, wanteth
a great foil to perceive the beauty of virtue. This doth the comedy
handle so ... as with hearing it we get, as it were, an experience....
So that the right use of comedy will, I think, by no body be blamed."