Cary's first line is a tolerably near approach to the original, although a distinction might be made between the force of _power resides in_, and _power possessed by_. The second line falls short of the conciseness of the original by transposing the object of _impregnates_ into the third. This, however, though a blemish, might also be passed over. But what shall we say to the expansion of _aura_ into a full line, and that line so Elizabethan and un-Dantesque as "The voyaging breeze upon whose subtle plume"? In this, too, Mr. Cary is faithful to his theory. Mr. Longfellow is equally faithful to his:-- "And so much power the stricken plant possesses, That with its virtue it impregns the air, And this, revolving, scatters it around." We have seen how Cary's theory permits the insertion of a new line, or, more correctly speaking, the expansion of a single word into a full line. But it admits also of the opposite extreme,--the suppression of an entire line. "Ch'io vidi, e anche udi'parlar lo rostro, E sonar nella voce ed _io_ e _mio_, Quand'era nel concetto _noi_ e _nostro_." For I saw and also heard speak the beak, And sound in its voice and _I_ and _my_, When it was in the conception _we_ and _our_. _Paradiso_, XIX. 10. There is doubtless something quaint and peculiar in these lines, but it is the quaintness and peculiarity of Dante. The _I_ and _my_, the _we_ and _our_, are traits of that direct and positive mode of expression which is one of the distinctive characteristics of his style. Do we find it in Cary? "For I beheld and heard The beak discourse; and what intention formed Of many, singly as of one express." Do we not find it in Longfellow? "For speak I saw, and likewise heard, the beak, And utter with its voice both _I_ and _My_, When in conception it was _We_ and _Our_." It is not surprising that the two translators, starting with theories essentially so different, should have produced such different results. Which of these results is most in harmony with the legitimate object of translation can hardly admit of a doubt. For the object of translation is to convey an accurate idea of the original, or, in other words, to render the words and idioms of the language from which the translation is made by their exact equivalents in the language into which it is made. The translator is bound by the words of the original. He is bound, so far as the difference between languages admits of it, by the idioms of the original. And as the effect of words and idioms depends in a great measure upon the skill with which they are arranged, he is bound also by the rhythm of the original. If you would copy Raphael, you must not give him the coloring of Titian. The calm dignity of the "School of Athens" conveys a very imperfect idea of the sublime energy of the sibyls and prophets of the Sistine Chapel.