of the French lyric, an inferiority which he attributes to the predominance of social characteristics in the literature, as in the life of France. When poetry is compelled to fulfil a social function, to express social conditions and social truths, to emphasize fundamental principles and balance contrasted forces, the founts of lyrical inspiration are early dried. Individualism is their source,—the sharp, clear striking of the personal note; and the English, says M. Brunetière, excel in this regard. "To Lucasta. Going to the Warres," has no perfect counterpart in the love-songs of other lands.
Even the eager desire of the Frenchman to be always intelligible ("That which is not lucid is not French") militates against the perfection of the lyric. So too does his exquisite and inborn sense of proportion. "Measure," says Mr. Brownell, "is a French passion;" but it is a passion that refuses to lend itself to rapturous sentiment.
Et veut que l'on soit sage avec sobriété
is hardly a maxim to which the genius of the love-song gives willing ear. Rather is she the
