Statistically, Rimbaud was a Latin poet during his lifetime — Graham Robb pointed this out in his TLS review of the new Pleiade Rimbaud. Pierre Assouline mentions that from Latin Rimbaud got his trick of piling words one on top of another, conventional word order be damned. (“More firmly bland than to children apples’ firm pulp” in Beckett’s translation of Le Bateau Ivre.) It’s not just the likes of Horace that the loss of Latin makes obscure, it’s most European writers up until 1900. Some of Samuel Johnson’s best poems were in Latin and unless you speak the language you can’t read some 150 poems of a titan of English literature in their original language. See also, Milton. Thomas Gray wrote some 30% of his poems in Latin. Shakespeare, with his “small Latin,” is the exception as usual. Still his Latin, small for his age, was larger than the Latin most of us have in our age. A lack of Latin makes one deaf to a constantly sounding frequency in English literature, one equivalent in its importance to the woodwinds in an orchestra: we still have the tunes, but miss this beautiful tone.