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sentiment and knowledge. No one, moments of weariness, exhaustion, whose character deserves respect, and inanition. The translator of walks into the fields with a Catullus Horace stands simply in the same or Anucreon in his pocket ; but the predicament with every other; and works of Horace are our friends and this sort of hypercriticism tends to companions : “ Delectant domi, non the conclusion, that not merely we impediunt foris ; peregrinantur, rus- do not possess Horace, but that we ticantur.”
possess no ancient poet whatever. Needs there any more be said to A greater number of odes, equally account for the constant supply of spirited, easy, and faithful, may be competitors for the Horatian wreath? selected from Francis (especially inA library, a good deal better furnished cluding those furnished bim by Dr. than the Radcliff; might be constructed Dunkin), than any previous calculaout of the versions of Horace alone.* tion could have counted upon. It is, A cavilling critic somewhere re- moreover, practicable to compile out marks, “ Horace wo have none." It of our literature a variorum translamight with far more justice be af- tion of the lyrics of Horace, characfirmed, “ Horace we have much." terised by as high and various excelThat we have any one single and lence as, perhaps, is within the grasp entire version of him, completely of human attainment. Cowley has too adequate in all respects, and realiz- much Italianized the ode to Pyrrha ; ing the ideal standard of what every but he has much of the sweetness man conceives a translation of Ho- and tenderly plaintive flow of the race ought to be, it would not mere- original. ly be too much to assert, but extra- In the clear heaven of thy brow vagant to suppose. In every trans
No smallest cloud appears, lation, even the most successful, is a beautiful development of the methere must be a falling off; there taphor that was in the poet's mind. must be inequalities; there must be The odes of Dryden are master
* These are a few of them. We speak only of those which we have seen.
1. Art of Poetry, Epistles, and Satires Englished. By Thomas Drant. 1567.
By Sir Thomas Hawkins. 1638.
and Notes upon Notes. By several Hands. Lintot. 1713. IX. Odes of Horace. By Henry Coxwell, Gent. Oxford. 1718. X. Horace's Satires, Epistles, and Art of Poetry. Done into English by S. Dun
ster, DD. Prebendary of Sarum. 1719. XI. Odes and Satyrs. By the most eminent hands (Rochester, Roscommon, Cow.
ley, Otway, Prior, Dryden, &c.) Tonson. 1730. XII. Odes, Epodes, and Carmen Seculare. By Mr. Wm. Oldisworth. 1737 (some
times spelt Oldsworth). XIII. A Translation of the Odes and Epodes. Attempted by T. Hare, AB. Master
of Blandford School. 1737. XIV. Odes of Horace, disposed according to chronologic order. By P. Sanadon, with
an English Translation in poetic-prose, by Mathew Towers, LLD. 1744. XV. Odes, Epodes, and Carmen Seculare, in English. By Joseph Davidson. 1746. XVI. Poetical Translation of the works of Horace. By the Rev. Pliidip Francis.
1750. XVII. Works of Horace in Prose. By Christopher Smart, AM. 1762. XVIII. Works of Horace. By Mr. Duncombe, Sen. J. Duncombe, and other hands,
with Imitations. 1767. XIX. Translation of Horace's Epistle to the Pisos, with Notes. By George Colman.
1783. XX. Olles, Epodes, and Carmen Seculare. By W’illiam Bescawen, Esq. 1793. XXI. Lyrics of Horace in English Verse. 1803. (This version is by the old trans
lator of Catullus; who also translated the dorobiólos, or First Book of Propertius ; the First Book of Lucielius ; and the Busia of Securdus.)
" he errs
pieces. The fastidiously undervalued not tell us why a respectable clerical and neglected Creech has hit off a gentleman cannot leave this world few odes with much fluency. But without translating Horace at all. nearly the best lyrical translator was It is ominous to stumble at the Oldsworth. This is the man, who, threshold: but we feel curious to in Pope's ride with Lintot the book- know what the Epodes have done seller, is panegyrized by the latter, that they should not be allowed the
turning an ode of Horace place which they held, when we ourquicker than any man in England.” selves were at school, among the His translation bears evidence of this. Lyrics of Horace? Before we got to It has often the slovenliness, but often the version itself, we were also a litthe vigour, of haste. The ode to the staggered by the information that Chloe is thus elegantly turned. the translator had “ adopted several You shun me, Chloe, as a fawn,
of the Horatian inversions, and alTo seek its dam, affrighted flees
most invariably preserved his lyrical O'er every mountain, wood, and lawn, implications of one stanza with anoAnd trembles at each rushing breeze.
ther.” “ If wrong," he
says, Her breath alternate comes and goes with scholars and poets: with SherIf but a lizard stir the leaves ;
burn, and Holyday, and Sandys, and If but a zephyr fan the boughs
May:" that is, with writers of reShe starts and quivers, pants and heaves. mote date, a formal system and an In the following stanza there is a
obsolete style, who, with all their very great resemblance to the man- raciness of expression and truth of ner of Dryden: ii, 29.
feeling, cramped their native vein and
their native tongue, by an unnecesHappy the mortal who can say,
sary and technical exactness. As to "Tis well, for I have liv'd to-day. To-morrow let black clouds and storms
inversion, he that professes to deal in arise,
it professes to make the language Or let the sun exert his beaming power,
walk upon its head. Nothing can interrupt my bliss,
We were much afraid that Mr. I seized and have enjoy'd my hour :
Wrangham would give us English The gods themselves, howe'er they smile Sapphics and Alcaics: but so far from or frown,
this, he appears to have been too Cannot recall what's past, for that is all my busy with the collocation of words
and distribution of commas to notice But it is high time to attend Mr. the numbers at all. If there is any Wrangham. We remember the pub- one thing more than another that lication of a sermon, to which the contributes to that delightful variety worthy author had annexed an essay
which we have remarked in Horace, on the virtues of tar-water. In like it is the diversity of his measures. manner, the literary lucubrations of How can any writer entertain a hope Mr, Wrangham seem rather con- of having conveyed to English reatrasted than consistent. He publish- ders a just impression of the lyrical ed, we believe, in 1816, a volume of genius of Horace, when he has sermons, and tacked on to them some “ done" the lyrics of Horace into the of Virgil's Bucolics. “ There is” metre of Gay's Fables ? nothing “in this more than natural:” It is qnite useless to insist on the resince, in our country, no
man is source derived from the use of diverthought qualified for a degree in sified metres, namely, the power of theology who is not an adept in Ho- adapting the rhythmical expression to race and Virgil. A political jour- the peculiar character of the subject. nalist, meaning to praise the clergy, Of this advantage, Mr. Wrangham spoke of them as men who liked their has voluntarily deprived himself: he “ pint of port, and quoted Horace.” has put himself into a child's go-cart, He might have said, “ translated." and keeps trundling about with the
Mr. Wrangham modestly observes, conscious air of imagining himself in that if asked by the public the rather the chariot described by Propertius, pozing question, as we think it) quid habes illius?”– he shall con
Nata coronatis Musa triumphat equis. sole himself with the reflection, that Let Mr. Wrangham's version from “ in proportion as success is honour- Od. vii. b. 1, be compared with that able, failure is venial.” But he does of Francis.
Comrades, where fortune, kinder she Bandusia, we are put off with “ cool Than Telamon, shall marshal me, fresh shade:" the “ lymphæ" also We'll go: nor, gallant hearts! despair
lose their loquacity, and are curtailed Teucer your guide leaves nought to fear.
of their leaps, and we have only the Wrangham.
“ headlong waters that ” dash " with Bold let us follow through the foamy tides sparkling flash.” Where Fortune, better than a father, As a proof of our kindly dispoguides ;
sition towards Mr. Wrangham, we Avaunt despair! when Teucer calls to shall neither quote his Ode to Pyrrha fame,
nor that to Chloe. In sober sadness, The same your augur and your guide the
we have been rather puzzled in our
choice; but, after some search, we Francis.
have decided on the Ode to the MeAgain let us parallel, with a writer already quoted, the passage, b. l, better versified, and, at all events,
mory of Quintilius, as something od. xxxv.
something better rhymed, than the With massive nails in front of thee
generality. We must observe, howStalks terrible Necessity ;
ever, that “ saddest song " for “liWhose brazen hand vast wedges fill,
quidam vocem is but a slovenly inAnd molten lead, and hook of steel: And Hope, and white-robed Faith are there, wand" is, on the other hand, literal
stance of fidelity; and that “ horrid Still-clinging Faith-on earth too rare !
without being faithful: it does not
convey the meaning to an English Where'er thou lead'st thy awful train,
ear; horrida is used metonymically; Necessity still stalks before, Whose brazen hand the hook and nails the effect is put for the cause; the retain,
sense is, causing tremblings, tremorThe plummet and the wedge, the emblems striking. of her power :
ODE XXIV. 1.
When one so loved, so valued, dies,
What shall controul our sympathies ?
Muse! the deep funeral wail prolong: We shall say nothing of the merits Thine sweetest lyre ; thine saddest song. of the version ; but looking to the And closes endless sleep his eye ? metre alone, is it not obvious, that a
Ah! when shall Faith, of Equity writer, who doggedly confines him- Twin-sister, Truth, and Honour's train self to namby-pamby, must be left When shall they see his like again ? behind in the race by every versifier Virgil ! by none more mourn' than thee !
He dies—by all mourn'd justly he: who expatiates in bold and unshack- Vainly thy pious prayers arise led numbers ?
And claim Quintilius of the skies-Mr. Wrangham“ ventures to claim Not so bestow'd! with mightier spell some commendation for himself, on Than Orpheus could'st thou sweep the the score of his own fidelity :” now shell, this is a claim which we feel very Not to the shade would blood retur, strongly disposed to resist: of his Which once beyond life's fated bourn fidelity to the grace and spirit of his Stern Mercury with horrid wand author we shall say nothing; but re
Has driven to join his dusky band.
'Tis hard: but what we may not cure, stricting ourselves to the diction, we
We learn by sufferance to endure. must observe, that in i. 23, It feels its heart's fond purpose fail,
Upon the whole, we feel ourselves
compelled, however unwillingly, to is not a translation of " corde tre.
refer this last of the third centenary mit;” and that “ alarms of me your of Horatian interpreters to a passage bosom seize,” can as little be said to
of his adopted poet: represent the simple word “ vitas.” In i. 5,“ qui nunc te fruitur credulus
Phæbus volenten- loqui aurea” is expressed,
In future, when we wish to call Fond dupe, he hopes—so sweet that kiss ! Thou'lt still be witching, still be his.
up recollections favourable to Mr.
Wrangham's abilities, we shall think For the “ fontibus integris," i. 26, of his Translation of Milton's Dewe have only “ gushing springs; fensio Secunda, and remember to forand for the “ frigus amabile
of get his “ Lyrics of Horace.”
In a Letter to B. F. Esq. at Sydney, New South Wales. My dear F.-When I think how sent reading—your Now he may welcome the sight of a letter from possibly be in the Bench, or going to the world where you were born must be hanged, which in reason ought to be to you in that one to abate something of your transport which you have been transplanted, I (i.e. at hearing he was well, &c.), or feel some compunctious visitings at at least considerably to modify it. I my long silence. But, indeed, it is am going to the play this evening, to no easy effort to set about a corres- have a laugh with Joey Munden. pondence at our distance. The weary You have no theatre, I think you told world of waters between us op- me, in your land of
dd realities. presses the imagination. It is diffi- You naturally lick your lips, and cult to conceive how a scrawl of envy me my felicity. Think but a mine should ever stretch across it. It moment, and you will correct the is a sort of presumption to expect hateful emotion. Why, it is Sunday that one's thoughts should live so far. morning with you, and 1823. This It is like writing for posterity ; and confusion of tenses, this grand solereminds me of one of Mrs. Rowe's cism of two presents, is in a degree superscriptions, “ Alcander to Stre- common to all postage. But if I phon, in the shades.” Cowley's Post- sent you word to Bath or the DeAngel is no more than would be ex- vises, that I was expecting the aforepedient in such an intercourse. One said treat this evening, though at the drops a pacquet at Lombard-street, moment you received the intelligence and in twenty-four hours a friend in my full feast of fun would be over, Cumberland gets it as fresh as if it yet there would be for a day or two came in ice. It is only like whisper- after, as you would well know, a ing through a long trumpet. But smack, a relish left upon my mental suppose a tube let down from the palate, which would give rational moon, with yourself at one end, and encouragement to you to foster a the man at the other; it would be portion at least of the disagreeable some baulk to the spirit of conver- passion, which it was in part my insation, if you knew that the dialogue tention to produce. But ten months exchanged with that interesting the- hence your envy or your sympathy osophist would take two or three re- would be as useless as a passion volutions of a higher luminary in its spent upon the dead. Not only does passage. Yet for aught I know, you truth, in these long intervals, un-esmay be some parasangs nigher that sence herself, but” (what is harder) primitive idea-Plato's man-than one cannot venture à crude fiction for we in England here have the honour the fear that it may ripen into a truth to reckon ourselves.
What a wild imEpistolary matter usually com- probable banter I put upon you some priseth three topics; news, sentin three years since-of Will Weatherment, and puns. In the latter, I in- all having married a servant-maid ! clude all non-serious subjects; or I remember gravely consulting you subjects serious in themselves, but how we were to receive her-for treated after my fashion, non-serious- Will's wife was in no case to be rely.--And first, for news. In them the jected; and your no less serious remost desirable circumstance, I sup- plication in the matter ; how tenderly pose, is that they shall be true. But you advised an abstemious introduce what security can I have that what I tion of literary topics before the lady, now send you for truth shall not be- with a caution not to be too forward fore you get it unaccountably turn in bringing on the carpet matters into a lie? For instance, our mutual more within the sphere of her intelfriend P. is at this present writing - ligence; your deliberate judgment, my Nous in good health, and cujoys or rather wise suspension of sena fair share of worldly reputation. tence, how far jacks, and spits, and You are glad to hear it. This is na- mops, could with propriety be introtural and friendly. But at this prea duced as subjects; whether the con
upon the voyage.
scious avoiding of all such matters ment of his Lordship's hot restless in discourse would not have a worse life, so took his fancy, that he could look than the taking of them casually imagine no place so proper, in the in our way; in what manner we event of his death, to lay his bones should carry ourselves to our maid in. This was all very natural and Becky, Mrs. William Weatherall excusable as a sentiment, and shows being by; whether we should show his character in a very pleasing light. more delicacy, and a truer sense of But when from a passing sentiment respect for Will's wife, by treating it came to be an act; and when, by a Becky with our customary chiding positive testamentary disposal, kis before her, or by an unusual deferen- remains were actually carried all that tial civility paid to Becky as to a way from England; who was there, person of great worth, but thrown some desperate sentimentalists exby the caprice of fate into a humble cepted, that did not ask the question, station. There were difficulties, I Why could not his Lordship have remember, on both sides, which you found a spot as solitary, a nook as did me the favour to state with the romantic, a tree as green and penprecision of a lawyer, united to the dent, with a stream as emblematic to tenderness of a friend. I laughed in his purpose, in Surry, in Dorset, or my sleeve at your solemn pleadings, in Devon? Conceive the sentiment when lo! while I was valuing my- hoarded up, freighted, entered at the self upon this flam put upon you in Custom House (startling the tideNew South Wales, the devil in Eng- waiters with the novelty), hoisted land, jealous possibly of any lie- into a ship. Conceive it pawed achildren not his own, or working after bout and handled between the rude my copy, has actually instigated our jests of tarpaulin ruffians a thing of friend (not three days since) to the its delicate texture—the salt bilge commission of a matrimony, which I wetting it till it became as vapid as, had only conjured up for your diver- a damaged lustring. Suppose it in sion. William Weatherall has mar- material danger (mariners have some ried Mrs. Cotterel's maid. But to superstition about sentiments) of take it in its truest sense, you will being tossed over in a fresh gale to see, my dear F., that news from me some propitiatory shark (spirit of must become history to you; which Saint Gothard, save us from a quietus I neither profess to write, nor indeed so foreign to the deviser's purpose !) care much for reading. No person, but it has happily evaded a fishy under a diviner, can with any prosa consummation." Trace it then to its pect of veracity conduct a corres- lucky landing—at Lyons shall we pondence at such an arm's length. say? --I have not the map before me Two prophets, indeed, might thus -jostled upon four men's shoulders interchange intelligence with effect; -haiting at this town-stopping to the epoch of the writer (Habbakuk) refresh at t'other village-waiting a falling in with the true present time passport here, a licence there; the of the receiver (Daniel); but then sanction of the magistracy in this we are no prophets.
district, the concurrence of the eccleThen as to sentiment. It fares siastics in that canton ; till at length little better with that. This kind of it arrives at its destination, tired out disli, above all, requires to be served and jaded, from a brisk sentiment, up hot; or sent off in water-plates, into a feature of silly pride or tawthat your friend may have it almost dry senseless affectation. How few as warm as yourself. If it have time sentiments, my dear F., I am afraid to cool, it is the most tasteless of all can sct down, in the sailor's cold meats. I have often smiled at a phrase, as quite sca-worthy. conceit of the late Lord C. It seems Lastly, as to the agreeable levities, that travelling somewhere about Ge- which, though contemptible in bulk, neva, he came to some pretty green are the twinkling corpuscula which spot, or rook, where a willow, or should irradiate a right friendly epistle something, hung so fantastically and your puns and small jests are, I apinvitingly over a stream-was it?- prehend, extremely circumscribed in or a rock ?- no matter --but the stil- their sphere of action. They are so ness and the repose, after a weary far from a capacity of being packed journey 'tis likely, in a languid mo- up and sent beyond sea, they will