BOOKS.

LORD CURZON'S WAR POEMS.*

IT was inevitable that the passions, hopes, and sorrows which have been evoked by the death-struggle in which the great nations of Europe are now engaged should elicit an outburst of song. What more fitting subject for a sad but proud and patriotic threnody could, indeed, be found than the "Roll of Honour," which now appears with mournful regularity in the columns of the daily Press, accompanied, as is often the case, with illustrations which bring home to us in a manner hereto- fore unknown to the present generation the lugubrious pathos of Pericles' beautiful metaphor that " the loss of the youth of the city was as if the spring was taken out of the year " ? Is any theme more calculated to inspire the Mnse of Poetry than the prolonged agony of heroic Belgium ? Can anything be imagined more apt to stir those emotions which form the raw material of poetry than the sight of the champions of true civilization and high morality standing forth, sword in hand, to crush a system whose triumph would blest the progress of the human race, enthrone an ignoble materialism in the place of those high ideals towards which the most enlightened spirits of modern times have for years past been painfully yet strenuously groping their way, and thrust upon the world a moral bankruptcy far loss excusable than the savagery of ancient or mediaeval times, inasmuch as the errors of the past were largely due to ignorance, whereas it is sought to defend those of the present and to obscure their moral obliquity by a learning which is real and by a ratiocination which is pseudo- scientific and spurious ? It was also inevitable that, in the expression of their sorrows, sympathies, and aspirations, classical students should often revert to the use of those languages which, whether in prose or poetry, have for ages past served as models for the expression of human thought. Thus Sir Herbert Warren, when he read the touching tribute paid by a poet of genius (Sir Henry Newbolt) to old Cliftoniana fallen on the battlefield, found that the stately English lines "rang in his bead," and forthwith "shaped themselves into Greek."f More recently a poet who, in the Eton College • War Poems, and other Transkaions. By Lord Curzon of Nadleatou. London: . Lane. ano. ed. net.] Spectator, April 10th, 1D15. Chronicle, cast a thin veil of anonymity over his personality by signing with the initials " G. M.," mourned the death of a.

gallant young Etonian, the heir to wealth and title, who gave his life for his country, in lines which, in spite of Lord Curzon's very apposite reserve as to the views which an ancient Greek would have held about the productions of the most erudite of modern scholars, are nevertheless so essentially

Greek in sentiment as to embody a bitter wall over the cruelty of that obscure deity (delis Arempapros)—the "'Unknown

God," whom the Athenians " ignorantly worshipped "—who has inflicted such terrible woes on suffering mankind.

Lord Curzon in his brief preface almost apologizes for having joined the throng of those statesmen and politicians who have preceded him in falling victims to the "amiable hobby " of translation. For two reasons no apology is necessary. One is that the translations themselves possess great intrinsic merits. The other is that, although Lord Curzon has made himself the mouthpiece of ideas conceived by others, he has by no means, in assuming the part of a.

translator, sunk his own vigorous personality. His unswerving patriotism, his high sense of duty, his admiration and sympathy for all those deeds and thoughts which call forth eulogistic or sympathetic treatment, are clearly discernible whether ho is giving us an English version of the French of Verimeren and Cammaerts, or of the Greek of Demosthenes and the Anthologists.

Lord Curzon has, of course, had to consider the great stumbling-block which lies in the path of every translator. To what extent is paraphrase permissible P Great poets have before now succumbed to the temptation, which is ever present to the mind of the translator, of acquiring greater freedom of speech in translating by neglecting the precise words of the original poem and merely embodying the main facts, principles, or sentiments which the poet has wished to set forth. Others have gone further and have not hesitated to introduce entirely fresh matter of their own, either because they have thought it topical to the ideas of the original author, or because the imperious necessities of rhyme or metro have constrained them to the adoption of this course. The pre- cision of the scholarly Bentley was shocked by the latitude which Pope allowed himself in translating the Iliad. "A very pretty poem, Mr. Pope," he said, "but you must not call it Homer." Lord Curzon has therefore very wisely decided to adhere as far as possible to the original text, but not invariably to discard paraphrase. " My object has been," he says, "nearly everywhere, not to paraphrase, but to translate," A good example of the results to be obtained by this method is the translation of the celebrated epitaph on those who fell at the battle of Chaeronea which occurs in Demosthenes' oration " On the Crown." The fidelity of the translation is unquestionable, and although possibly the melody and harmonious flow of the English version would have gained if greater latitude had been allowed, it contains no line or expression which can fairly be said to jar on the ear of the English reader.

It is, however, in the translation of the Belgian war poems that the results of Lord Curzon's methods may best be ppreciated. " There is," he says, "a substantial identity in modern cultured thought and expression which renders the

translation, e.g., of French or German lyrics into English " one of no extraordinary difficulty." It will probably be ; conceded by all who read this volume that in this sphere Lord Curzon has been eminently successful. Indeed, inasmuch as probably all of us yield more readily to the emotions excited by words addressed to us in our mother-tongue than by south. ments expressed in a foreign language, it is very possible that English readers will in some cases prefer the translations to the originals, in spite of the praise• which may rightly be accorded to the French versions. One example must suffice. M. Cammaerts has embodied the self-sacrifice, the determina- tion, and glowing patriotism of his countrymen in the stirring poem entitled " Chantons, Beiges, Chantons." Lord Curzon's translation is no lees spirited than the original. ; Here is one stanza :- a Reek not that your wounds are bleeding, Reck not that your voice is weak: Deeper than tho roar of cannon,

Higher than the battle-shriek, E'en although your wounds are bleeding, E'en although your heart-strings break, Sing of hopo and bate unshaken, 'Neath this fair autumnal sun :

Sing how, when the tempter whispered,

Sweet is vengeance, when 'tis done,' Said we louder, We are prouder, Mercy's garland to have won I ' "

In this case Lord Curzon has adhered closely to the original text, and be has given us in rhythmical and faultless English a vivid impression of the lofty scorn and fiery indignation which the Belgian poet pours on the ruthless invaders of his native country.

It is to the episodes connected with the war that we owe the publication of this attractive volume. But the general reader, and more especially the lover of classical literature, will rejoice at the opportunity which has thus been afforded to him of reading some other fugitive pieces unconnected with recent events which have from time to time been composed by Lord Curzon. In the domain of literature he displays a courage equal to that which full many a time he has shown in the field of politics and administration. So competent, and at the same time so indulgent, a critic as Professor Maekail was not altogether satisfied with the translation by Shelley of Plato's " flawless lines," 'Avr.hp irplu µiv eNal.trEs, Undeterred, however, by the risk of criticism, Lord Curzon has given us two versions, one in English and the other in Latin, of this pearl amongst epigrams. Of these, priority of merit must certainly be assigned to the translation into the dead language. It is singularly felicitous :— " Stella pries vivis Eoa lace nitobas, At nun° Hesperio Manibus orbs niter."

Indeed, some of Lord Curzon's most notable successes have been achieved in Latin verse. The rendering of Collins's " Sleep of the Brave " is excellent. So also is the Latin version of Wordsworth's "Lucy." of which the first two stanzas run as follows :- " Avis, desertao tonuit propre ftumina Doves

Ram precis virgo, needs, laudis, iter.

Muscoso intuit viola at semi-abdita saxo, . Candidior stella, quae nitet una polo."

Lord Curzon has also not been deterred by the very qualified praise which has been meted out to a numerous band of translators, from the days of Cicero downwards, from giving us another version of the world-famous epitaph of Simonides on the Spartans who fell at Thermopylae. The attempt to render these few pregnant words into ' English hexameter and pentameter verse is, so far as the writer, of the present article is aware, novel :— " Stranger, go hence and say to the men who hold Lacedaemon- Here, far away, we lie, proudly obeying her words I' " Symonds, in dealing with this epigram, says that none of the translations are "very good," and he expresses the opinion that the difficulty lies mainly in deciding whether ii$/saoa is, as Cicero held, to be considered as the equivalent of 141-pais (legibus), or should be construed " orders." A good deal may, of course, in this as in other cases, be attributed to the quasi- impossibility of rivalling in any modern tongue the terseness of an inflected language. But the real difficulty lies outside the range of merely verbal criticisms such as that of Symonds. It sometimes occurs that by some happy chance or inspira- tion, as in the case of the Ehri Trs, lipdeterre of William Cory, the exquisite bloom of the original Greek does not evaporate when passing through the crucible of translation.

But in other cases, after dwelling with lenient sympathy on the attempts of the moat erudite and skilful workmen, it has to be confessed that, for reasons which may be felt more easily than expressed, Greek genius, jealous of its own proud literary monopoly, has in some instances bequeathed to us poetry which, in order to be fully appreciated, must be read in the original language.

Finally, it may be said that Lord Curzon bee given us some specimens of what he can do when his Muse, no longer dwelling on the tragedy of Belgium, or oppressed by the mournful gloom which occasionally hung over the Greek out- look on life, lends itself to affording to English readers an interpretation of the sprightly and caustic humour of France. Nowhere is that humour more prominent than in the satire displayed in epitaphs on the lives of the unworthy or the insignificant. To quote one instance in point, readers of French history will remember that Louis XV., on his acces- sion, was named " Le Bien-Aime," and Carlyle has told us how President Henault, "in his sleek official way," sang a dithyramb over the merits which appeared to justify the assumption of this title. Its singular inappropriateness was on the death of Louis XV. stereotyped in the lines :— " Ci-g£t Louis—ce oeuvre Roi; On dit qu'il Mt bon, mais 4 quoi?

Lord Curzon has culled from Lord Chesterfield's Letters an epitaph couched in a somewhat similar strain composed on a certain Colas —" Un homme futile et fainéant "—which Lord Chesterfield somewhat maliciously applied to the recently defunct King of Poland :--- "Colas Colas est mart do nutladie,

1'u veux quo fen pleuro Is sort; Quo diablo veux to quo j'on die ? Colas vivoit, Colas est mart."

Lord. Curzon has preserved both the wit and conciseness of the original. He translates :— " Colley fell ill, and is no more I His fate you bid me to deplore; But what the deuce is to be said P Colley was living, Colley's dead." CEOMER.