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HORACE HIS ART OF POETRY.

HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY.] This translation, which was probably among the earliest works of Jonson, was not given to the press till some time after his death, when it was published in 1640, with some other pieces, in 12mo, by John Benson, with a dedication to Lord Windsor, who, as the writer says, rightly knew the worth and true esteem both of the author and his learning, being more conspicuous in the judgment of your lordship and other sublime spirits than my capacity can describe."

Many transcripts of this version got abroad; these differed considerably from one another, and all perhaps from the original copy. In the three which have reached us, though all were published nearly at the same time, variations occur in almost every line. To notice them would be both tedious and unprofitable: suffice it to say that I have adopted the text of the folio 1640, as, upon the whole, the most correct, though exceptions may occasionally be met with in the smaller editions.

It was for this poem that our author compiled the vast body of notes which was destroyed in the conflagration of his study. After this, he seems to have lost all thoughts of the press--indeed age and disease were advancing fast upon him, if, as I conjecture, the fire took place about 1623, and left him as little heart as power to venture again before a public, not in general too partial to his labours.

The small edition is prefaced by several commendatory poems, one of which only appears to be written on occasion of the present version. This is by the celebrated Lord Herbert of Cherbury, and is addressed "to his friend Master Ben Jonson, on his Translation."

"'Twas not enough, Ben Jonson, to be thought
Of English poets best, but to have brought,
In greater state, to their acquaintance, one
Made equal to himself and thee; that none
Might be thy second: while thy glory is
To be the HORACE of our times, and his."

Jonson was followed (at unequal periods) by three writers, who in the century succeeding his death (for I have neither leisure nor inclination to go lower) published their respective versions of the Art of Poetry. It may amuse the reader, perhaps, to listen for a moment to what they say of our poet, and of one another. Roscommon begins-"I have kept as close as I could both to the meaning, and the words of the author, and done nothing but what I believe he would forgive me if he were alive; and I have often asked myself that question. I know this is a field,

Per quem magnus equos Aurunca flexit alumnus,

but with all respect due to the name of Ben Jonson, to which no man pays more veneration than I; it cannot be denied, that the constraint of rhyme, and a literal translation (to which Horace in his book declares himself an enemy) has made him want a comment in many places."

Oldham follows :

"I doubt not but the reader will think me guilty of an high presumption in venturing upon a translation of the Art of Poetry, after two such great hands as have gone before me in the same attempts: I need not acquaint him that I mean Ben Jonson and the Earl of Roscommon; the one being of so established an authority, that whatever he did is held as sacred, the other having lately performed it with such admirable

success, as almost cuts off all hope in any after pretenders, of ever coming up to what he has done."

The last is Henry Ames:

"'Tis certain my Lord Roscommon has not only excelled in justness of version and elegance of style, but has given his poet all the natural beauties and genteel plainness of the English dress; but his lordship rid with a slack rein, and freed himself at once from all the incumbrance and perplexity of rhyme; and sure it must be confessed some difficulty to be circumscribed to syllables and sounds: Mr. Oldham, indeed, has very skilfully touched the Horatian lyre, and worked it into musical harmony; but so modernized the poem, and reduced it to the standard of his own time, that a peevish reader may not only be disgusted at want of the poetical history, but think himself privileged to except against all such freedoms in any one but Mr. Oldham.

"Ben Jonson (with submission to his memory), by transgressing a most useful precept, has widely differed from them both; and trod so close upon the heels of Horace, that he has not only crampt, but made him halt, in (almost) every line."

[When Jonson read this translation to Drummond there was a preface attached to it "where he hath ane Apologie of a play of his, St. Bartholomee's Faire." The translation itself was composed in 1604 "in my Lord Aubany's house," ten years before the preface was written.-F. C.]

Horace of the Art of Poetry.'

IF to a woman's head a painter would
Set a horse-neck, and divers feathers fold
On every limb, ta'en from a several creature,
Presenting upwards a fair female feature,
Which in some swarthy fish uncomely ends:
Admitted to the sight, although his friends,
Could you contain your laughter? Credit

me,

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And both do crave, and give again, this leave.

Yet, not as therefore wild and tame should
cleave

Together; not that we should serpents see
With doves; or lambs with tigers coupled be.
In grave beginnings, and great things
profest,

Ye have oft-times, that may o'ershine the
rest,

A scarlet piece or two stitched in: when or
Diana's grove, or altar, with the bor-
D'ring circles of swift waters that intwine
The pleasant grounds, or when the river
Rhine,

Arte Poetica.

Scimus; et hanc veniam petimusque, da-
musque, vicissim :

Sed non ut placidis coëant immitia, non ut
Serpentes avibus geminentur, tigribus agni.

Incoeptis gravibus plerunque, et magna
professis

Purpureus, latè qui splendeat, unus et alter
Assuitur pannus: cùm lucus, et ara Dianæ,
Et properantis aquæ per amonos ambitus

agros,

Aut flumen Rhenum, aut pluvius describi

tur arcus.

Jonson will be found perfectly to understand his author, and to exhibit his meaning with his usual vigour and conciseness of style.-WHAL

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But in the main work hapless since he knows

Not to design the whole. Should I aspire To form a work, I would no more desire To be that smith, than live marked one of those,

With fair black eyes and hair, and a wry

nose.

Take, therefore, you that write, still, matter fit

Unto your strength, and long examine it, Upon your shoulders: prove what they will bear,

And what they will not. Him, whose choice doth rear

His matter to his power, in all he makes,
Nor language, nor clear order e'er forsakes;
The virtue of which order, and true grace,
Or I am much deceived, shall be to place
Invention now to speak; and then defer
Much, that mought now be spoke, omitted
here

Till fitter season; now, to like of this,
Lay that aside, the epic's office is.

In using also of new words, to be Right spare, and wary: then thou speak'st to me

Most worthy praise, when words that common grew

Are, by thy cunning placing, made mere new. Yet if by chance, in uttering things abstruse, Thou need new terms; thou mayst, without excuse,

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That from the north the navy safe doth store,

A kingly work; or that long barren fen Once rowable, but now doth nourish men In neighbour towns, and feels the weighty plough;

Or the wild river, who hath changed now His course, so hurtful both to grain and seeds,

Being taught a better way. All mortal deeds
Shall perish: so far off it is, the state,
Or grace of speech, should hope a lasting
date.

Much phrase that now is dead, shall be revived,

And much shall die, that now is nobly lived,

If custom please; at whose disposing will The power and rule of speaking resteth still.

The gests of kings, great captains, and sad wars,

What number best can fit, Homer declares. In verse unequal matched, first sour laments,

After men's wishes, crowned in their events, Were also closed: but who the man should be,

That first sent forth the dapper elegy,
All the grammarians strive; and yet in

court

Before the judge it hangs, and waits report.

Vicinas urbes alit, et grave sentit aratrum: Seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis ;

Doctus iter melius. Mortalia facta peribunt, Nedum sermonum stet honos, et gratia vivax.

Multa renascentur, quæ jam cecidêre, cadentque

Quæ nunc sunt in honore, vocabula, si volet usus ;

Quem penes arbitrium est, et jus, et norma loquendi.

Res gestæ regumque, ducumque, et tristia bella

Quo scribi possent numero, monstravit Homerus.

Versibus impariter junctis querimonia primum,

Post etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos. Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor, Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice

lis est.

Musa dedit fidibus divos puerosque deorum, Et pugilem victorem, et equum certamine primum,

Et juvenum curas, et libera vina referre.

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Yet sometime doth the Comedy excite Her voice, and angry Chremes chafes outright

With swelling throat and oft the tragic wight

Complains in humble phrase. Both Telephus,

And Peleus, if they seek to heart-strike us That are spectators, with their misery, When they are poor, and banished, must throw by

Their bombard-phrase, and foot-and-halffoot words:

'Tis not enough, th' elaborate Muse affords Her poems beauty, but a sweet delight To work the hearers' minds still to their plight.

Men's faces still, with such as laugh are

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To ignorance still, than either learn or Sad language fits sad looks, stuffed meknow?

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nacings

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