The Art of Poetry: an Epistle to the Pisos. Гораций

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      Res gestae regumque ducumque et tristia bella,

      Quo scribi possent numero, monstravit Homerus.

      Versibus impariter junctis querimonia primúm,

      Pòst etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos.

      Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit auctor,

      Grammatici certant, et adhuc sub judice lis est.

      Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo.

      Hunc socci cepêre pedem, grandesque cothurni,

      Alternis aptum sermonibus, et populares

      Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis.

      The works of mortal man shall all decay;

      And words are grac'd and honour'd but a day:

      Many shall rise again, that now are dead;

      Many shall fall, that now hold high the head:

      Custom alone their rank and date can teach,

      Custom, the sov'reign, law, and rule of speech.

      For deeds of kings and chiefs, and battles fought,

      What numbers are most fitting, Homer taught:

      Couplets unequal were at first confin'd

      To speak in broken verse the mourner's mind.

      Prosperity at length, and free content,

      In the same numbers gave their raptures vent;

      But who first fram'd the Elegy's small song,

      Grammarians squabble, and will squabble long.

      Archilochus, 'gainst vice, a noble rage

      Arm'd with his own Iambicks to engage:

      With these the humble Sock, and Buskin proud

      Shap'd dialogue; and still'd the noisy croud;

      Musa dedit fidibus divos, puerosque deorum,

      Et pugilem victorem, et equum certamine primum,

      Et juvenum curas, et libera vina referre.

      Descriptas servare vices, operumque colores,

      Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poëta salutor?

      Cur nescire, pudens pravè, quàm discere malo?

      Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult;

      Indignatur item privatis ac prope socco

      Dignis carminibus narrari coena Thyestae.

      Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decenter.

      Embrac'd the measure, prov'd its ease and force,

      And found it apt for business or discourse.

      Gods, and the sons of Gods, in Odes to sing,

      The Muse attunes her Lyre, and strikes the string;

      Victorious Boxers, Racers, mark the line,

      The cares of youthful love, and joys of wine.

      The various outline of each work to fill,

      If nature gives no power, and art no skill;

      If, marking nicer shades, I miss my aim,

      Why am I greeted with a Poet's name?

      Or if, thro' ignorance, I can't discern,

      Why, from false modesty, forbear to learn!

      A comick incident loaths tragick strains:

      Thy feast, Thyestes, lowly verse disdains;

      Familiar diction scorns, as base and mean,

      Touching too nearly on the comick scene.

      Each stile allotted to its proper place,

      Let each appear with its peculiar grace!

      Interdum tamen et vocem comoedia tollit;

      Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore;

      Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri.

      Telephus aut Peleus, cum pauper et exul uterque,

      Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba,

      Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querelâ.

      Non satis est pulchra esse poëmata; dulcia sunto,

      Et quocunque volent, animum auditoris agunto.

      Ut ridentibus arrident, ita flentibus adflent

      Humani vultus; si vis me flere, dolendum est

      Primum ipsi tibi: tunc tua me infortunia laedent.

      Telephe, vel Peleu, male si mandata loqueris,

      Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo: tristia moestum

      Vultum verba decent; iratum, plena minarum;

      Yet Comedy at times exalts her strain,

      And angry Chremes storms in swelling vein:

      The tragick hero, plung'd in deep distress,

      Sinks with his fate, and makes his language less.

      Peleus and Telephus, poor, banish'd! each

      Drop their big six-foot words, and sounding speech;

      Or else, what bosom in their grief takes part,

      Which cracks the ear, but cannot touch the heart?

      'Tis not enough that Plays are polish'd, chaste,

      Or trickt in all the harlotry of taste,

      They must have passion too; beyond controul

      Transporting where they please the hearer's soul.

      With those that smile, our face in smiles appears;

      With those that weep, our cheeks are bath'd in tears:

      To make me grieve, be first your anguish shown,

      And I shall feel your sorrows like my own.

      Peleus, and Telephus! unless your stile

      Suit with your circumstance, I'll sleep, or smile.

      Features of sorrow mournful words require;

      Anger in menace speaks, and words of fire:

      Ludentem, lasciva; severum, seria dictu.

      Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad omnem

      Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut impellit ad iram,

      Aut ad humum moerore gravi deducit, et angit:

      Post effert animi motus interprete linguâ.

      Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta,

      Romani tollent equitesque patresque chachinnum.

      Intererit multum, Divusne loquatur, an heros;

      Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventâ

      Fervidus; an matrona potens, an sedula nutrix;

      Mercatorne vagus, cultorne virentis agelli;

      Colchus, СКАЧАТЬ