In English writing we seldom speak of tradition. ... You can hardly make the word agreeable to English ears without this comfortable reference to the reassuring science of archaeology.

We know, or think we know, from the enormous mass of critical writing that has appeared in the French language the critical method or habit of the French

Tradition is a matter of much wider significance. It cannot be inherited, and if you want it you must obtain it by great labour. It involves, in the first place, the historical sense, which we may call nearly indispensable to any one who would continue to be a poet beyond his twenty-fifth year; and the historical sense involves a perception, not only of the pastness of the past, but of its presence; the historical sense compels a man to write not merely with his own generation in his bones, but with a feeling that the whole of the literature of Europe from Homer and within it the whole of the literature of his own country has a simultaneous existence and composes a simultaneous order.

He must be aware that the mind of Europe—the mind of his own country—a mind which he learns in time to be much more important than his own private mind—is a mind which changes, and that this change is a development which abandons nothing en route, which does not superannuate either Shakespeare, or Homer, or the rock drawing of the Magdalenian draughtsmen.

One of the facts that might come to light in this process is our tendency to insist, when we praise a poet, upon those aspects of his work in which he least resembles any one else. In these aspects or parts of his work we pretend to find what is individual, what is the peculiar essence of the man. We dwell with satisfaction upon the poet's difference from his predecessors, especially his immediate predecessors; we endeavour to find something that can be isolated in order to be enjoyed. Whereas if we approach a poet without this prejudice we shall often find that not only the best, but the most individual parts of his work may be those in which the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously.

One of the facts that might come to light in this process is our tendency to insist, when we praise a poet, upon those aspects of his work in which he least resembles any one else. In these aspects or parts of his work we pretend to find what is individual, what is the peculiar essence of the man. We dwell with satisfaction upon the poet's difference from his predecessors, especially his immediate predecessors; we endeavour to find something that can be isolated in order to be enjoyed. Whereas if we approach a poet without this prejudice we shall often find that not only the best, but the most individual parts of his work may be those in which the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously.

Omero, Odissea 1,336-341; 356-359
δακρύσασα δ᾿ ἔπειτα προσηύδα θεῖον ἀοιδόν·
«Φήμιε, πολλὰ γὰρ ἄλλα βροτῶν θελκτήρια οἶδας,
ἔργ᾿ ἀνδρῶν τε θεῶν τε, τά τε κλείουσιν ἀοιδοί·
τῶν ἕν γέ σφιν ἄειδε παρήμενος, οἱ δὲ σιωπῇ
οἶνον πινόντων· ταύτης δ᾿ ἀποπαύε᾿ ἀοιδῆς
λυγρῆς…»

«… ἀλλ᾿ εἰς οἶκον ἰοῦσα τὰ σ᾿ αὐτῆς ἔργα κόμιζε,
ἱστόν τ᾿ ἠλακάτην τε, καὶ ἀμφιπόλοισι κέλευε
ἔργον ἐποίχεσθαι· μῦθος δ᾿ ἄνδρεσσι μελήσει
πᾶσι, μάλιστα δ᾿ ἐμοί· τοῦ γὰρ κράτος ἔστ᾿ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ»

Then, as the tears filled her eyes, she spoke to the divine minstrel "Phemius, many other things you know to charm mortals, deeds of men and gods which minstrels make famous. Sing them one of these, as you sit here, and let them drink their wine in silence. But cease from this woeful song …"

"...Now go to your chamber, and busy yourself with your own tasks, the loom and the distaff, and bid your handmaids be about their tasks; but speech shall be men's care, for all, but most of all for me; since mine is the authority in this house"

Mosco, Europa 162-166

Ὣς φάτο· καὶ τετέλεστο τά περ φάτο. φαίνετο μὲν δή
Κρήτη, Ζεὺς δὲ πάλιν σφετέρην ἀνελάζετο μορφήν
λῦσε δέ οἱ μίτρην, καί οἱ λέχος ἔντυον Ὧραι.
ἡ δὲ πάρος κούρη Ζηνὸς γένετ' αὐτίκα νύμφη,
καὶ Κρονίδῃ τέκε τέκνα καὶ αὐτίκα γίνετο μήτηρ.

So he spoke; and what he said was brought to pass. Crete indeed came in sight, and Zeus took on his own shape again and loosened her girdle, and the Hours prepared her bed. And she who was formerly a girl at once became the bride of Zeus, and she bore children to the son of Cronus and at once became a mother.

Erodoto, Storie I,2

Οὕτω μὲν Ἰοῦν ἐς Αἴγυπτον ἀπικέσθαι λέγουσι Πέρσαι, οὐκ ὡς Ἕλληνες, καὶ τῶν ἀδικημάτων πρῶτον τοῦτο ἄρξαι. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα Ἑλλήνων τινάς (οὐ γὰρ ἔχουσι τοὔνομα ἀπηγήσασθαι) φασὶ τῆς Φοινίκης ἐς Τύρον προσσχόντας ἁρπάσαι τοῦ βασιλέος τὴν θυγατέρα Εὐρώπην. εἴησαν δ᾿ ἂν οὗτοι Κρῆτες. ταῦτα μὲν δὴ ἴσα πρὸς ἴσα σφι γενέσθα

This, say the Persians (but not the Greeks), was how Io came to Egypt, and this, according to them, was the first wrong that was done. Next, according to their tale, certain Greeks (they cannot tell who) landed at Tyre in Phoenice and carried off the king's daughter Europe. These Greeks must, I suppose, have been Cretans. So far, then, the account between them stood balanced.

Eschilo, Persiani 179-200

ἀλλ' οὔτι πω τοιόνδ' ἐναργὲς εἰδόμην
ὡς τῆς πάροιθεν εὐφρόνης· λέξω δέ σοι.
ἐδοξάτην μοι δύο γυναῖκ' εὐείμονε,
ἡ μὲν πέπλοισι Περσικοῖς ἠσκημένη,
ἡ δ' αὖτε Δωρικοῖσιν, εἰς ὄψιν μολεῖν,
μεγέθει τε τῶν νῦν ἐκπρεπεστάτα πολὺ
κάλλει τ' ἀμώμω, καὶ κασιγνήτα γένους
ταὐτοῦ, πάτραν δ' ἔναιον ἡ μὲν Ἑλλάδα
κλήρωι λαχοῦσα γαῖαν, ἡ δὲ βάρβαρον·
τούτω στάσιν τιν', ὡς ἐγὼ 'δόκουν ὁρᾶν,
τεύχειν ἐν ἀλλήλησι, παῖς δ' ἐμὸς μαθὼν.
κατεῖχε κἀπράυνεν, ἅρμασιν δ' ὕπο
ζεύγνυσιν αὐτὼ καὶ λέπαδν' ὑπ' αὐχένων
τίθησι· χἠ μὲν τῆιδ' ἐπυργοῦτο στολῆι
ἐν ἡνίαισί τ' εἶχεν εὔαρκτον στόμα,
ἡ δ' ἐσφάδαιζε καὶ χεροῖν ἔντη δίφρου
διασπαράσσει καὶ ξυναρπάζει βίαι
ἄνευ χαλινῶν καὶ ζυγὸν θραύει μέσον.
πίπτει δ' ἐμὸς παῖς, καὶ πατὴρ παρίσταται
Δαρεῖος οἰκτίρων σφε· τὸν δ' ὅπως ὁρᾶι
Ξέρξης, πέπλους ῥήγνυσιν ἀμφὶ σώματι.
καὶ ταῦτα μὲν δὴ νυκτὸς εἰσιδεῖν λέγω·

But never yet have I had one [dream] that was so plain as during the night just past. I will tell you about it. There seemed to come into my sight two finely dressed women, one arrayed in Persian, the other in Doric robes, outstandingly superior in stature to the women of real life, of flawless beauty, and sisters of the same stock: one, by the fall of the lot, was a native and inhabitant of the land of Greece, the other of the Orient. I seemed to see these two raising some kind of strife between themselves; my son, perceiving this, tried to restrain and calm them, yoked them under his chariot, and passed the yoke-strap under their necks. One of them, thus arrayed, towered up proudly, and kept her jaw submissively in harness; but the other began to struggle, tore the harness from the chariot with her hands, dragged it violently along without bridle or bit, and smashed the yoke in half. My son fell out. His father Darius appeared, standing beside him and showing pity; but when Xerxes saw him, he tore the robes that clothed his body. That, I say, is what I saw in the night.

Mosco, Europa 1-27

Εὐρώπῃ ποτὲ Κύπρις ἐπὶ γλυκὺν ἧκεν ὄνειρον,
νυκτὸς ὅτε τρίτατον λάχος ἵσταται ἐγγύθι δ' ἠώς,
ὕπνος ὅτε γλυκίων μέλιτος βλεφάροισιν ἐφίζων
λυσιμελὴς πεδάᾳ μαλακῷ κατὰ φάεα δεσμῷ,
εὖτε καὶ ἀτρεκέων ποιμαίνεται ἔθνος ὀνείρων.
τῆμος ὑπωροφίοισιν ἐνὶ κνώσσουσα δόμοισι
Φοίνικος θυγάτηρ ἔτι παρθένος Εὐρώπεια
ὠίσατ' ἠπείρους δοιὰς περὶ εἷο μάχεσθαι,
Ἀσίδα τ' ἀντιπέρην τε· φυὴν δ' ἔχον οἷα γυναῖκες.
τῶν δ' ἣ μὲν ξείνης μορφὴν ἔχεν, ἣ δ' ἄρ' ἐῴκει
ἐνδαπίῃ, καὶ μᾶλλον ἑῆς περιίσχετο κούρης,
φάσκεν δ' ὥς μιν ἔτικτε καὶ ὡς ἀτίτηλέ μιν αὐτή.
ἡ δ' ἑτέρη κρατερῇσι βιωομένη παλάμῃσιν
εἴρυεν οὐκ ἀέκουσαν, ἐπεὶ φάτο μόρσιμον εἷο
ἐκ Διὸς αἰγιόχου γέρας ἔμμεναι Εὐρώπειαν.
ἣ δ' ἀπὸ μὲν στρωτῶν λεχέων θόρε δειμαίνουσα,
παλλομένη κραδίην· τὸ γὰρ ὡς ὕπαρ εἶδεν ὄνειρον.
ἑζομένη δ' ἐπὶ δηρὸν ἀκὴν ἔχεν, ἀμφοτέρας δέ
εἰσέτι πεπταμένοισιν ἐν ὄμμασιν εἶχε γυναῖκας.
ὀψὲ δὲ δειμαλέην ἀνενείκατο παρθένος αὐδήν·
«τίς μοι τοιάδε φάσματ' ἐπουρανίων προΐηλεν;
ποῖοί με στρωτῶν λεχέων ὕπερ ἐν θαλάμοισιν
ἡδὺ μάλα κνώσσουσαν ἀνεπτοίησαν ὄνειροι;
τίς δ' ἦν ἡ ξείνη τὴν εἴσιδον ὑπνώουσα;
ὥς μ' ἔλαβε κραδίην κείνης πόθος, ὥς με καὶ αὐτή
ἀσπασίως ὑπέδεκτο καὶ ὡς σφετέρην ἴδε παῖδα.
ἀλλά μοι εἰς ἀγαθὸν μάκαρες κρήνειαν ὄνειρον».

Cypris once sent upon Europa a sweet dream. At the time when the third part of night begins and dawn is near; when limb-loosening sleep, sweeter than honey, sits on the eyelids and binds the eyes with a soft bond; and when the herd of true dreams goes afield—at that time, as she slumbered in her upper chamber, Europa, daughter of Phoenix, still a virgin, thought she saw two continents contend for her, Asia and the land opposite; and they had the form of women. Of these, one had the appearance of a foreigner, while the other resembled a native woman and clung more and more to her daughter, and kept saying that she had herself borne and reared her. But the other, using the force of her strong hands, drew her not unwillingly along, for she said it was fated by Zeus who bears the aegis that Europa should be her prize.
Europa leaped in fright from her covered bed, her heart pounding; she had experienced the dream as if it were real. Sitting down, she kept a long time silent; and still she kept a vision of both women before her now open eyes. At last the girl raised her frightened voice: "Which of the gods in heaven has sent such visions upon me? What sort of dreams appearing above my covered bed have scared me as I slept so sweetly in my chamber? Who was the foreign woman whom I saw as I slept? How love for her seized my heart! How joyfully she herself welcomed me and looked on me as her own child! May the blessed gods bring this dream to fulfillment for me with a good result!"

Mosco, Europa 72-79

Οὐ μὲν δηρὸν ἔμελλεν ἐπ' ἄνθεσι θυμὸν ἰαίνειν,
οὐδ' ἄρα παρθενίην μίτρην ἄχραντον ἔρυσθαι.
ἦ γὰρ δὴ Κρονίδης ὥς μιν φράσαθ' ὣς ἐόλητο
θυμὸν ἀνωίστοισιν ὑποδμηθεὶς βελέεσσι
Κύπριδος, ἣ μούνη δύναται καὶ Ζῆνα δαμάσσαι.
δὴ γὰρ ἀλευόμενός τε χόλον ζηλήμονος Ἥρης
παρθενικῆς τ' ἐθέλων ἀταλὸν νόον ἐξαπατῆσαι
κρύψε θεὸν καὶ τρέψε δέμας καὶ γείνετο ταῦρος

Not for long was she to please her heart with the flowers or keep her virgin girdle undefiled.
No sooner had the son of Cronus noticed her than he was in turmoil in his heart, overcome by the unexpected arrows of Cypris, who alone can overcome even Zeus. Indeed, to avoid the anger of jealous Hera and wishing to deceive the girl's simple mind, he hid his godhead, altered his shape, and became a bull