BOOTS.

VA-ern-ea DAitTX* Tin difficulty of trawsferring a genuine poem unimpaired in effect from me language. to another, would seem, judging from the amount of success actually reached in such attempts, as great as the gift of original poetic genius is rare. In spits of the eager de- sire to Become familiar with the great works of foreign literature, no such attempt has taken a firm hokl of the public mind in- recent years: Nor is it necessary to go far to seek causes for a failure which is acknowledged. Success would require a complex men. tal activity, involving conditions which to all appearance are mu- tually exclusive,—the excitement of the poetic faculty, mani- festing itself in a freedom of utterance obedient solely to an internal. impulse or law of development, in combination with strict- adherence to an external model, and a perpetually self-control- ling endeavour to reproduce every thought of the original in its pure integrity, every phrase with its exact force. Without the former, the result will be a copy of details only, the disiecta membra of the poet; without the latter, a new poem would be produced on the same: subject as the original., and. resembling, it in its general:treatment, but failing to .preserve that distinguishing tone or style which gives to the original its individuality, and therefore its value as a work of art. The diffictilty, so palpable priori, has in fact proved so stubborn a-reality,,that our translators have as far as we know, uniformly erred on the one side or the other. There is the school of Pope and most of our old translators, who were usually poets themselves, better or worse, more often the latter. Their plan was to gain a general conception of what their author was about, to master the names. of. his characters,, the facts recorded. of them, and, the bearing of the speeches they made ; then.. to put-all this into English verse neither having nor aiming, at any resemblance to the original- Pope's " Iliad.' is the generic type of the class : and a very brilliant spirited composition it is, deserving high academical distinction, but giving tha reader a less correct notion of Homer than a coloured French lithograph would of the Dresden Madonna. Perhaps the noblest specimen in our language of the opposite method of translation is the received version of the poetical portions of the Hebrew Bible- Both ins- stanoes contain errors ofdetail, arising from imperfect scholarship; but they serve as excellent examples of their respective methods.; and. few, we imagine, would hesitate in their preference.. Nor are we aware of any attempt at combining the advantages and avoid- ing the defects of these two. methods which-has attained sufficient success to command unqualified admiration, or even materially to modify the preference for literal„ prose versions. Probably Cole- ridge's ” Wallenstein ". would have done. so, partly because Coleridge had a remarkably keen perception of shades of meaning. in language and a true poetic spirit, partly because the dramatic style approaches nearer to prose : but his exuberant genius has led him to expatiate on striking thoughts and phrases, more like a musician extemporizing on a charming theme than. one faithfully executig from the copy set before him. Experience,. it must be is not in favour of metrical versions. But, apart from experience, one simple fact duly weighed shonld.deter a Imietand scholar from such a waste and misdirection of power.. There never yet was translator, however keen his feeling for style, however large. his command of words, who could have made a poetical version of any of the great poems of his own country. in other words than the poet has used—a poetical paraphrase, in short—withoutlamentably marring the effect, and- destroying in the process all the true form and. character of the original: This no one will' deny ; yet the pro- posed task would seem to present, especially in a language so rich as English in synonyme and idiom, fewer difficulties than the re- production of a. poem originally writtenin a foreign.language. The truth is, that its own form is essentialto a work of art; and/that in transferring a poem from one language to another, the form must be altered in the two essential elements of style and metre. For the metres of two languages, though called by the same name and consisting of the same number of long and short syllables, are not the same, owing to structural differences in thes atid the organization of those who speak them : witnestlittageGreek and Latin as compared with German and English hexameters. And any direct attempt to imitate style is sure to issue in mannerism, because the more prominent peculiarities are those caught, and what was natural and unconscious in the original becomes the ob- ject of conscious effort in the imitator, and. so is of course ex- aggerated; while those qualities which are felt rather than dis- tinctly appreciated by, the intellect most probably disappear in the imitation, and there remains a caricature, or at best, the sort of copy that would be made of a landscape if atmospheric effects were unheeded. Our conclusion- is, that what peculiarly- &institutes a poem a work of art cannot be reproduced by a translator ; that if he attempt to do this, he will fail in fidelity. of detail and in truth of general effect. On the other hand, the prose translator has this advantage, that he does not aim at reproducing his original in its artistic completeness, but only the materials of which it is com- posed—the human experience and knowledge which belong to the poet as man, and, being universal-in virtue of our common hu- manity' have a value independently of the form. which, the indi- vidual artist has stamped, upon them.. And even the style of his original, so far as it is capable of transmission into another lan- guage, he has a muck better chance of rendering, inasmuch as he • Pagte's Divine Comedy.. Tire Vision of Hell. Translated in the Origiusd Ter- ', nary Rhyme. By C. B. Cayley, B.A. Published by Longman and Co. need make no sacrifices to the exigencies of metre or the jingle of rhyme. Fidelity of representation is the sole object he aims at ; and, to borrow an illustration from a kindred art, though the charm of colour must be abandoned, truth of light and shade is possible of attainment. We cannot imagine but that the superiority of prose translations would be universally acknowledged, if they had not unfortunately been generally left to mere scholars, often exe- cuted by persons not possessing even that qualification, and con- sidered available only as " cribs" for lazy schoolboys and pre- tending dunces of schoolmasters. The publication of Dr. Carlyle's prose version of the " Inferno " has set an example in this line which we hope to see followed, and the completion of which by the "Purgatory " and "Paradise" will give to an English reader the opportunity of knowing as much of the greatest medueval poet as can be known without reading his works in Italian.

Mr. Cayley is not of our opinion as to the respective advantages of prose and metrical versions. He has executed his translation of the Inferno in the terza rima of the original, from which Eng- lish poets have instinctively shrank, as presenting difficulties that counterbalance the attraction of its majestic rhythm and sustained flow of melody. Lord Byron's fine ear and unrivalled command of language have failed to give it vogue ; even he could not avoid being by turns harsh and diffuse, and " The Prophecy of Dante " remains an unsuccessful experiment. Merivale has used this metre in the scanty specimens he has published from the Commedia, and Dayman in an unfinished version of the Inferno. Mr. Wright has translated the whole poem into a measure that looks like, but is not, terza rima. Cary has attempted no such compromise, but has taken refuge in simple blank verse. These four are the versions by which Dante's great poem, complete and in select passages, is best known in England; and Mr. Cayley must be considered to have achieved success in having given a translation of the Inferno more literal than any one of these, yet preserving the dif- ficult metre of the original. That is, the middle verse of one triplet rhymes with the first and third of the next : for in no other sense is his terza rima like Dante's, it being as harsh and un- musical a collocation of words as can well be imagined. But the tour de force he has attempted he has undoubtedly executed. We remember a boy at school who had that facility for making Latin verse that the master used to say of him he could put the Re- form Bill into longs and shorts : Mr. Cayley's success in metre seems to us of the same order. A far higher merit at which he has aimed, and in which he has partially succeeded, is the attempt to reproduce the homeliness and everyday-life character of Dante's language. In the famous letter to Can Grande, Dante, speaking of the title of his work, says, " If we consider the style of speech, that style is remiss and humble ; being the vulgar speech, in which even the women talk;with one another. Wherefore it is evident why the work is called a comedy." Here again Mr. Cay- ley has furnished convincing proof of the superiority of a prose translation ; for, in spite of his knowledge of his author, and his clear perception of this characteristic, the demands of his rhyme and metre have made him not seldom fall into a dialect which is neither the vulgar speech of men and women, nor the polished style of professed authorship, least of all the musical diction of the poet, but a barbarous jargon, of which the Elizabethan dramatists, the followers of Keats, and conversational slipslop, have supplied the component elements. The well-known episode of Francesca of Rimini will illustrate our remarks. It is admirably literal ; but the verses must run and the rhymes must jingle, and, what with the inversions necessary for this purpose but quite foreign to our lan- guage, and the stress laid upon unemphatic words, and the phrases which are either very bad English or not English at all, the ear and the mind experience a series of unpleasant jars, which would be avoided by not aiming at impossibilities.

"'The land where I was born is by the sea,

Upon the margin, where descendeth Po, With all his followers at peace to be. Love, whom the gentle heart is quick to know,

Seized hitmulalthat fair person, which, it grieves

Me still to ' I was despoiled of so. Love, who from loving none beloved reprieves, So kindled me to work his will again, That still, thou seest, my side he never leaves. Love led us to one death ; the place of Cain Awaiteth him, by whom in life we bled.' These words proceeded to us from the twain. When I the wounded spirits heard, my head I hung adown, and sometime kept it low, Until, What thinkest thou ? ' the poet said. Then I began, when I made answer, ' 0, What dear desire, what many thoughts and sooth Have led them both unto this bourne of wo ? '

I turned to them and spoke myself, In truth, Francesca,' I began, thine agonies So pierce me I can weep for wo and ruth : But tell me, at the time of your sweet sighs, How love, and by what token did concede That you the dubious passions might surmise?' And she replied, ' There is no pain indeed Like the remembering of happy state In grief, nor will thy guide to learn it need ; But if such eagerness to penetrate The first root of our love, thy mind incite, As one that speaks and weeps I shall relate. One day we had been reading for delight Of Lancelot, how love had him compelled ; We were alone together, dreadless quite. This reading many a time our eyes had held Upon each other, and our cheeks made pale. One only passage our endurance quelled ;

For when the smile desired, in our tale,

Was kissed by such a great and loving one, This man, who never from my side can fail, Kissed me, all quivering, my mouth upon. The book, the author, Pander's trade was plying :

That evening we could read no further on.",

Admirable as Dr. Cirlyle's translation is, we cannot doubt that Mr. Cayley would equal if not surpass it, considering what he has done under the encumbrances with which he has burdened him- self. Indeed, in some of his finest passages, the combination of literal exactness and metrical vigour is truly marvellous, and would almost suggest the propriety of combining the two methods of translation; giving a metrical version where occasionally a pas- sage fortunately admits of it, and resorting to literal prose. where either exactness or good English has to be sacrificed to metre. The story of Philip Argenti is an excellent specimen of Mr. Cay- ley's highest success.

" Then down into the bark my master trod, And made me next himself to enter 10 And save by me it seemed to have no load. As soon as both had taken seat within, Cleaving the waters went the ancient prow, With deeper furrow than its wont had been.

Whileas the death-informed pool we plough, " 'Gan one, with mud all covered, me to hail : ' Before thy time arriving, who art thou ? ' ' I come, but to return I shall not fail : But who art thou, so fulsome ? ' I replied. ' Thou seest,' he answered, ' I am one that wail.' ' Then wail and weeping ever thee betide, Accursed soul,' this answer back I flung; ' For thee I know, albeit so brutified.' Then with both hands upon the bark he clung; My wary master made him thence give room, And cried, ' Fall back the other hounds among.' His arms about my neck he threw full soon, And kissed my face, and said, ' Indignant spirit, Blessed be she that bore thee in her womb ! This was on earth a man of pride ; no merit Adorns the recollection of his brth, And therefore must his ghost this rage inherit. How many hold themselves high kings on earth,

dias That here will star , like swine in mud below,

Leaving a vile report o their low worth.' I answered him, '0 m 'ter, I could so Rejoice to see him in this broth immerst, Ere further yet beyond the swamp we go.'

' Before,' he answered me, 'thy sight has pierced

Unto the merge, thou shalt be well sufficed ; 'Tis meet in such desire to slake thy thirst.'

Within a space I saw so martyrized This fellow by the muddy nations all, That God the more I still have thanked and prized. To Philip Argenti 'gan each to bawl, And the uncouth spirit Florentine full sore Did with his teeth upon hia owl flesh falL"

The story of Ulysses is another capital example of Mr. Cayley's power; though it is at once felt to be a translation, and moves too often with the stiffness of an artificially-impeded utterance. In- deed, it is seldom for more than a few lines together that, even Mr. Cayley's talent can quite overcome the difficulties of. his rhyme and metre. The passage has additional interest as having pro- bably suggested Mr. Tennyson's noble poem on the same subject.

" When I took leave of Circe, who in thrall ,, yHad kept me off Caieta 'bove a year,

bit, Before Epees did the strand so call, No aged father's wretchedness, nor dear cot Child's aspect, nor the love so nobly earned, >II That should have made Penelope's glad cheer, Could the great passion quell with which I burned, To get me knowledge of the globe, and be One that the vice and worth of man had learned.

And forth upon the deep and unshut sea

I launched me with one boat, and that small train

Of comrades that had not forsaken me.

I saw this coast and that as far as Spin, And as the Sardians' island, and the rest Which that sea washes, and the Moors domain. And I and all my crew were age-opprest

And stiffened, when we reached that narrow strait,

Where Hercules his bounding columns placed, That man should never further penetrate ; And passing now Seville upon the right, And Ceuta toward the left of ocean's gate, ' 0 comrades, who to this far West, in spite,' Said I, ' of danger's million threats have run, For this brief gloaming of perception's light That we inherit still, ere life is done, Be loth to abdicate the experience Of yon unpeopled world behind the sun ; Consider that original from whence Ye spring, to live not like the beasts, but strain After all knowledge and all excellence.'

And by this little speech I made so fain

My comrades for the voyage, that back to warn Them afterwards I might have sought in vain. And having turned our poop against the morn, We made our sails wings for the mad emprize,

And further ever toward the left were borne. And now night looked on us with all the eyes

Of yonder pole, and ours had so declined, As hardly from the ocean-floor to rise. Five times had been rekindled, five had pined, Since first we entered on the daring way, That sheen by which the moon is underlined, When there appeared to us a mountain grey From distance, and far loftier to view Than all which I had seen before that day. We joyed, and soon it gave us cause to rue, When rose a whirlwind from that coast new-found, That on the vessel's foremost corner flew,

And thrice, with all his waters, whirled us round,

Till up our poop was lifted at the will

Of whom I name not, and our bows were drowned; Then thershut waves above my head were still."

The faults of Mr. Cayley's translation are, we believe, due al- most entirely to the inherent and insuperable difficulty of his task. His talent and knowledge are unquestionable ; and in spite of these faults, his version is by many degrees the best that we have in English verse. A few short notes would materially add to its value and popularity.