If I should translate it sweet-marjoram,
as the word signifies, the reader would think I had mistaken Virgil;
for these village-words, as I may call them, give us a mean idea of
the thing; but the sound of the Latin is so much more pleasing, by
the just mixture of the vowels with the consonants, that it raises
our fancies to conceive somewhat more noble than a common herb, and
to spread roses under him, and strew lilies over him--a bed not
unworthy the grandson of the goddess.
If I cannot copy his harmonious numbers, how shall I imitate his
noble flights, where his thoughts and words are equally sublime?
Quem
" . . . quisquis studet aemulari,
. . . caeratis ope Dedalea
Nititur pennis, vitreo daturus
Nomina ponto."
What modern language or what poet can express the majestic beauty of
this one verse, amongst a thousand others?
"Aude, hospes, contemnere opes, et te quoque dignum
Finge Deo . . . "
For my part, I am lost in the admiration of it. I contemn the world
when I think on it, and myself when I translate it.
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