Sóme in hot Olympic race delight Dust to gather; close with glowing wheel We, the lords of earth, to gods are rais'd, "Him who joys his fathers' land to clean, "Whilst the wind of Afric, struggling fierce cr Cups of Massic eld some nót disdain, "Many the camp delights, and trumpets' sound Horrible. The hunter waits beneath Chilly Jove, nor heeds his tender spouse Late expecting him; if ór his hounds Vigilant the hind have spied, or if Marsian boar the meshes stout has burst. "Me the Ivy-leaf, to cultur'd brow tr Seemly prize, with gods aloft unites. Bút, mid lyric bards if thou enrol Mé, my lofty head the stars will strike.” The unmistakeable trochaic line is exemplified not only in Mr. Newman's substitute for the Sapphic stanza, but in that by which he has replaced another well-known measure of Horace, found, for example, Ode i. 15. This con sists in the original of four lines, formed on the same metrical principle, although the fourth differs in detail from the other three. The first of these lines, though precisely the same as that found in the last-quoted Ode (i. 1), Mr. Newman translates by one of five full trochaics; the second, by a verse in professed imitation of the Latin original, consisting of three and a half trochees-with this variation, that the second trochee is replaced by a dactyl. He avows himself doubtful of the effect of this on English ears; and to ears unaccustomed to the Latin rhythm, we must leave the judgment. We select, as perhaps the best specimen of the translated metre, though, according to our editor, one of the author's juvenile productions, Ode i. 15. "Pastor cum traheret per freta navibus,” &c. "When the traitor-swain with ships of Ida Sad the omen, dire the bride thou bearest. 666 Hunts thee hard; and an eager hand, Mightier son of a mighty sire. "Him, as wolf whom deer across the valley Gain awhile for Troy and Trojan matrons. Enough has been said to illustrate Mr. Newman's method of dealing with the metres of Horace. We believe the principle to be correct, and in many instances successfully applied. Many of his metres are exceedingly pleasing in our ears—sweet, various, and sonorous; and we entertain no personal prejudice against the use of even so anomalous a line as that characteristic of the last quotation. But, after all, the true test must be the approbation of those persons who are conversant with modern poetry only. The English ear-except in the blank verse of Epos and Tragedy-expects a rhyme; and all efforts to change the national habit have hitherto been unsuccessful. Yet the question of faithful classical translation is inextricably bound up with that of the retention or omission of this ornament. Except in rare instances, or for short passages, rhyme renders anything more literal than a free paraphrase impossible. The unlearned reader's choice lies between the loss of the accustomed ornament, and a faithless pretence at translation. We add, however-for the classical scholar, as specimens of Mr. Newman's metrical experiments; for the lover of poetry, as samples of Horace's best manner-two of his most celebrated odes,-in metres not before particularly analysed. Epode ii." Beatus ille, qui procul negotiis," &c. With his own oxen tills his father's fields, Nor by the savage trump in the camp is rous'd, And shuns the forum, and the thresholds proud But he the vine's glad upgrown progeny And with his curv'd knife pruning useless boughs, Or in the vale's broad bosom views afar, Or in pure jars the well prest honey stores, Or from the fields when Autumn rears her head How joys he, plucking his engrafted pears Now beneath ancient holm he lists to lie, In their deep banks the meanwhile glide the streams, With trickling element pure babble the springs, "But when the wintry horn of thundering Jove Then he the eager boar with scurrying hounds Or with smooth pole spreads the thin nets aloft, Or in his noose (sweet prize!) the frighten'd hare "Mid such employ who not the evil cares As Sabine woman, or the sunburnt wife Piles with old logs the sacred hearth, to greet Her weary lord's arrival, Who, penning the wild flock in wattled crate, Drains their distended udders, Then wine of this year's vintage drawing, crowns Me not so much will Lucrine oysters please, Should winter, rumbling in the Eastern waves, No bird of Afric down my throat will glide, No moorcock of Ionia, Sweeter than olives pick'd from boughs which hang With luscious treasure loaded, Or mallows, wholesome to the sickly frame, And meadow-loving sorrel, Or kidling rescued from the wolf, or lamb Amid such banquets, sweet it is to see "Thus spake the money-lender Alfius, bent Turn'd on the Ides his bonds to cash; but sought New borrowers on the Kalends." ' Ode iii. 1.-" Odi profanum vulgus et arceo," &c. "Hateful crowd unconsecrate, The Muses' priest, to boys and maidens Kings their flocks with awe inspire, Troops of clients throng a third. The bright or mean: the urn capacious |
