Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere, fidus
Interpres; nec desilies imitator in arctum,
Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet aut operis lex.
 
 
Nec sic incipies, ut scriptor cyclicus olim:
fortunam priami cantabo, et nobile bellum.
Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu?
Parturiunt montes: nascetur ridiculus mus.
Quanto rectius hic, qui nil molitur inepte!
dic mihi, musa, virum, captae post moenia trojae,
qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes.
Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem
Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat,
Antiphaten, Scyllamque, et cum Cylope Charibdin.
Nor word for word too faithfully translate;
Nor leap at once into a narrow strait,
A copyist so close, that rule and line
Curb your free march, and all your steps confine!
 
 
Be not your opening fierce, in accents bold,
Like the rude ballad-monger's chaunt of old;
"The fall of Priam, the great Trojan King!
Of the right noble Trojan War, I sing!"
Where ends this Boaster, who, with voice of thunder,
Wakes Expectation, all agape with wonder?
The mountains labour! hush'd are all the spheres!
And, oh ridiculous! a mouse appears.
How much more modestly begins HIS song,
Who labours, or imagines, nothing wrong!
"Say, Muse, the Man, who, after Troy's disgrace,
In various cities mark'd the human race!"
Not flame to smoke he turns, but smoke to light,
Kindling from thence a stream of glories bright:
Antiphates, the Cyclops, raise the theme;
Scylla, Charibdis, fill the pleasing dream.
Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri,
Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo:
Semper ad eventum festinat; et in medias res,
Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit: et quae
Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit:
Atque ita mentitur, sic veris falsa remiscet,
Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum.
 
 
Tu, quid ego et populus mecum desideret, audi;
Si fautoris eges aulea manentis, et usque
Sessuri, donec cantor, Vos plaudite, dicat:
Aetatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores,
Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis.
Reddere qui voces jam scit puer, et pede certo
Signat humum; gestit paribus colludere, et iram
Colligit ac ponit temerè, et mutatur in horas.
He goes not back to Meleager's death,
With Diomed's return to run you out of breath;
Nor from the Double Egg, the tale to mar,
Traces the story of the Trojan War:
Still hurrying to th' event, at once he brings
His hearer to the heart and soul of things;
And what won't bear the light, in shadow flings.
So well he feigns, so well contrives to blend
Fiction and Truth, that all his labours tend
True to one point, persu'd from end to end.
 
 
Hear now, what I expect, and all the town,
If you would wish applause your play to crown,
And patient sitters, 'till the cloth goes down!
 
 
_Man's several ages _with attention view,
His flying years, and changing nature too.
 
 
_The Boy _who now his words can freely sound,
And with a steadier footstep prints the ground,
Places in playfellows his chief delight,
Quarrels, shakes hands, and cares not wrong or right:
Sway'd by each fav'rite bauble's short-liv'd pow'r,
In smiles, in tears, all humours ev'ry hour.
Imberbus juvenis, tandem custode remoto,
Gaudet equis canibusque et aprici gramine campi;
Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper,
Utilium tardus provisor, prodigus aeris,
Sublimis, cupidusque, et amata relinquere pernix.
 
 
Conversis studiis, aetas animusque virilis
Quaerit opes et amicitias, infervit honori;
Conmisisse cavet quòd mox mutare laboret.
 
 
Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda; vel quod
Quaerit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti;
Vel quòd res omnes timidè gelidèque ministrat,
Dilator, spe lentus, iners, pavidusque futuri;
The beardless Youth, at length from tutor free,
Loves horses, hounds, the field, and liberty:
Pliant as wax, to vice his easy soul,
Marble to wholesome counsel and controul;
Improvident of good, of wealth profuse;
High; fond, yet fickle; generous, yet loose.
 
 
To graver studies, new pursuits inclin'd,
Manhood, with growing years, brings change of mind:
Seeks riches, friends; with thirst of honour glows;
And all the meanness of ambition knows;
Prudent, and wary, on each deed intent,
Fearful to act, and afterwards repent.
 
 
Evil in various shapes _Old Age _surrounds;
Riches his aim, in riches he abounds;
Yet what he fear'd to gain, he dreads to lose;
And what he sought as useful, dares not use.
Timid and cold in all he undertakes,
His hand from doubt, as well as weakness, shakes;
Hope makes him tedious, fond of dull delay;
Dup'd by to-morrow, tho' he dies to-day;
Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti
Se puero, censor, castigatorque minorum.
 
 
Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum,
Multa recedentes adimunt: ne forte seniles
Mandentur juveni partes, pueroque viriles.
Semper in adjunctis aevoque morabimur aptis.
 
 
Aut agitur res In scenis, aut acta refertur:
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, et quae
Ipse sibi tradit spectator: non tamen intus
Digna geri promes in scenam: multaque tolles
Ex oculis, quae mox narret facundia praesens:
Ill-humour'd, querulous; yet loud in praise
Of all the mighty deeds of former days;
When he was young, good heavens, what glorious times!
Unlike the present age, that teems with crimes!
 
 
Thus years advancing many comforts bring,
And, flying, bear off many on their wing:
Confound not youth with age, nor age with youth,
But mark their several characters with truth!
 
 
Events are on the stage in act display'd,
Or by narration, if unseen, convey'd.
Cold is the tale distilling thro' the ear,
Filling the soul with less dismay and fear,
Than where spectators view, like standers-by,
The deed submitted to the faithful eye.
Yet force not on the stage, to wound the sight,
Asks that should pass within, and shun the light!
Many there are the eye should ne'er behold,
But touching Eloquence in time unfold:
Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet;
Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus;
Aut in avem Procne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem.
Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.
 

* * * * *

 
Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu
Fabula, quae posci vult, et spectata reponi
Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus
Inciderit: nec quarta loqui persona laboret.
 

* * * * *

 
Actoris partes Chorus, officiumque virile
Defendat: neu quid medios intercinat actus,
Quod non proposito conducat et haereat apte.
Ille bonis faveatque, et concilietur amicis,
Et regat iratos, et amet peccare timentes:
Who on Medea's parricide can look?
View horrid Atreus human garbage cook?
If a bird's feathers I see Progne take,
If I see Cadmus slide into a snake,
My faith revolts; and I condemn outright
The fool that shews me such a silly sight.
 
 
Let not your play have fewer acts than five,
Nor more, if you would wish it run and thrive!
 
 
Draw down no God, unworthily betray'd,
Unless some great occasion ask his aid!
 
 
Let no fourth person, labouring for a speech,
Make in the dialogue a needless breach!
 
 
An actor's part the Chorus should sustain,
Gentle in all its office, and humane;
Chaunting no Odes between the acts, that seem
Unapt, or foreign to the general theme.
Let it to Virtue prove a guide and friend,
Curb tyrants, and the humble good defend!
Ille dapes laudet mensae brevis, ille salubrem
Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis:
Ille tegat commisia, Deosque precetur et oret,
Ut redeat miseris, abeat fortuna superbis.
 
 
Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalco vincta, tubaeque
aemula; sed tenuis, simplexque foramine pauco,
Aspirare et adesse choris erat utilis, atque
Nondum spissa nimis complere sedilia flatu:
Quo fanè populus numerabilis, utpote parvus
Et frugi castusque verecundusque coibat.
Postquam coepit agros extendere victor, et urbem
Laxior amplecti murus, vinoque diurno
Placari Genius sestis impune diebus,
 
 
Loud let it praise the joys that Temperance waits;
Of Justice sing, the real health of States;
The Laws; and Peace, secure with open gates!
Faithful and secret, let it heav'n invoke
To turn from the unhappy fortune's stroke,
And all its vengeance on the proud provoke!
 
 
The Pipe of old, as yet with brass unbound,
Nor rivalling, as now, the Trumpet's sound,
But slender, simple, and its stops but few,
Breath'd to the Chorus; and was useful too:
For feats extended, and extending still,
Requir'd not pow'rful blasts their space to fill;
When the thin audience, pious, frugal, chaste,
With modest mirth indulg'd their sober taste.
But soon as the proud Victor spurns all bounds,
And growing Rome a wider wall surrounds;
When noontide cups, and the diurnal bowl,
Licence on holidays a flow of soul;
Accessit numerisque modisque licentia major.
Indoctus quid enim saperet liberque laborum,
Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto?
Sic priscae motumque et luxuriem addidit arti
Tibicen, traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem:
Sic etiam fidibus voces crevere feveris,
Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia praeceps;
Utiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri,
Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis.
 

* * * * *

 
Carmine qui tragico vilem certavit ob hircum,
Mox etiam agrestes Satyros nudavit, et asper
Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit: eò quod
A richer stream of melody is known,
Numbers more copious, and a fuller tone.
 
 
——For what, alas! could the unpractis'd ear
Of rusticks, revelling o'er country cheer,
A motley groupe! high, low; and froth, and scum;
Distinguish but shrill squeak, and dronish hum?–
The Piper, grown luxuriant in his art,
With dance and flowing vest embellishes his part!
Now too, its pow'rs increas'd, the Lyre severe
With richer numbers smites the list'ning ear:
Sudden bursts forth a flood of rapid song,
Rolling a tide of eloquence along:
Useful, prophetic, wise, the strain divine
Breathes all the spirit of the Delphick shrine.
 
 
He who the prize, a filthy goat, to gain,
At first contended in the tragick strain,
Soon too—tho' rude, the graver mood unbroke,—
Stript the rough satyrs, and essay'd a joke:
Illecebris erat et gratâ novitate morandus
Spectator functusque sacris, et potus, et exlex.
Verum ita risores, ita commendare dicaces
Conveniet Satyros, ita vertere seria ludo;
Ne quicunque Deus, quicunque adhibebi tur heros [sic]
Regali conspectus in auro nuper et ostro,
Migret in obscuras humili sermone tabernas
Aut, dum vitat humum, nubes et inania captet [sic]
Effutire leves indigna tragoedia versus,
Ut festis matrona moveri jussa diebus,
Intererit Satyris paulum pudibunda protervis.
Non ego inornata et dominantia nomina solum
Verbaque, Pisones, Satyrorum scriptor amabo
Nec sic enitar tragico differre colori,
For holiday-spectators, flush'd, and wild,
With new conceits, and mummeries, were beguil'd.
Yet should the Satyrs so chastise their mirth,
Temp'ring the jest that gives their sallies birth;
Changing from grave to gay, so keep the mean,
That God or Heroe of the lofty scene,
In royal gold and purple seen but late,
May ne'er in cots obscure debase his state,
Lost in low language; nor in too much care
To shun the ground, grasp clouds, and empty air.
With an indignant pride, and coy disdain,
Stern Tragedy rejects too light a vein:
Like a grave Matron, destin'd to advance
On solemn festivals to join the dance,
Mixt with the shaggy tribe of Satyrs rude,
She'll hold a sober mien, and act the prude.
Let me not, Pisos, in the Sylvan scene,
Use abject terms alone, and phrases mean;
Nor of high Tragick colouring afraid,
Neglect too much the difference of shade!
Ut nihil intersit Davusne loquatur et audax
Pythias emuncto lucrata Simone talentum,
An custos famulusque Dei Silenus alumni.
 
 
Ex noto fictum carmen sequar: ut sibi quivis
Speret idem; sudet multum, frustraque laboret
Ausus idem: tantum series juncturaque pollet:
Tantum de medio sumtis accedit honoris.
 
 
Silvis deducti caveant, me judice, Fauni,
Ne velut innati triviis, ac pene forenses,
Aut nimium teneris juvenentur versibus umquam,
Aut immunda crepent ignominiosaque dicta.
Offenduntur enim, quibus est equus, et pater, et res;
Nec, si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emtor,
Aequis accipiunt animis, donantve coronâ.
Davus may jest, pert Pythias may beguile
Simo of cash, in a familiar style;
The same low strain Silenus would disgrace,
Servant and guardian of the Godlike race.
 
 
Let me on subjects known my verse so frame,
So follow it, that each may hope the same;
Daring the same, and toiling to prevail,
May vainly toil, and only dare to fail!
Such virtues order and connection bring,
From common arguments such honours spring.
 
 
The woodland Fauns their origin should heed,
Take no town stamp, nor seem the city breed:
Nor let them, aping young gallants, repeat
Verses that run upon too tender feet;
Nor fall into a low, indecent stile,
Breaking dull jests to make the vulgar smile!
For higher ranks such ribaldry despise,
Condemn the Poet, and withhold the prize.
Syllaba longa brevi subjecta, vocatur Iambus,
Pes citus: unde etiam Trimetris accrescere jussit
Nomen Iambeis, cum senos redderet ictus
Primus ad extremum similis sibi; non ita pridem,
Tardior ut paulo graviorque veniret ad aures,
Spondeos stabiles in jura paterna recepit
Commodus et patiens: non ut de sede secundâ
Cederet, aut quartâ socialiter. Hic et in Accî
Nobilibus Trimetris apparet rarus, et Ennî.
In scenam missus cum magno pondere versus,
Aut operae celeris nimium curaque carentis,
Aut ignoratae premit artis crimine turpi.
 
 
Non quivis videt immodulata poëmata judex:
Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis.
To a short Syllable a long subjoin'd
Forms an Iambick foot; so light a kind,
That when six pure Iambicks roll'd along,
So nimbly mov'd, so trippingly the song,
The feet to half their number lost their claim,
And Trimeter Iambicks was their name.
Hence, that the measure might more grave appear,
And with a slower march approach the ear,
From the fourth foot, and second, not displac'd,
The steady spondee kindly it embrac'd;
Then in firm union socially unites,
Admitting the ally to equal rights.
Accius, and Ennius lines, thus duly wrought,
In their bold Trimeters but rarely sought:
Yet scenes o'erloaded with a verse of lead,
A mass of heavy numbers on their head,
Speak careless haste, neglect in ev'ry part.
Or shameful ignorance of the Poet's art.
 
 
"Not ev'ry Critick spies a faulty strain,
And pardon Roman Poets should disdain."
Idcircòne vager, scribamque licenter? ut omnes
Visuros peccata putem mea; tutus et intra
Spem veniae cautus? vitavi denique culpam,
Non laudem merui.
 
 
Vos exemplaria Graeca
Nocturnâ versate manu, versate diurnâ.
At vestri proavi Plautinos et numeros, et
Laudavere sales; nimium patienter utrumque
(Ne dicam stultè) mirati: si modo ego et vos
Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto,
Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus et aure.
Ignotum tragicae genus invenisse Camenae
Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poëmata Thespis
Quae canerent agerentque, peruncti faecibus ora.