ABSTRACT
THE poets’ war or battle of the stages lasted for three years. It began with a manifesto and ended with an apology. Often it seems but a tiresome brawling between rival dramatists in which mean issues hide, not very successfully, behind high words and legendary names. Poetomachia is a sounding title. It arouses majestic expectations. It sets us looking for noble causes such as might appropriately divide the choice and master spirits of a great age, and it has encouraged biographers and critics to enlarge, even to transfigure, the argument.
