Horace -- Translations into English; Latin poetry -- Translations into English
Yet there are faults, which we should be ready to pardon: for neither
does the string [always] form the sound which the hand and conception
[of the performer] intends, but very often returns a sharp note when he
demands a flat; nor will the bow always hit whatever mark it threatens.
But when there is a great majority of beauties in a poem, I will not be
offended with a few blemishes, which either inattention has dropped, or
human nature has not sufficiently provided against. What therefore [is
to be determined in this matter]? As a transcriber, if he still commits
the same fault though he has been reproved, is without excuse; and the
harper who always blunders on the same string, is sure to be laughed at;
so he who is excessively deficient becomes another Choerilus; whom, when
I find him tolerable in two or three places, I wonder at with laughter;
and at the same time am I grieved whenever honest Homer grows drowsy?
But it is allowable, that sleep should steal upon [the progress of] a
king work.
As is painting, so is poetry: some pieces will strike you more if you
stand near, and some, if you are at a greater distance: one loves the
dark; another, which is not afraid of the critic's subtle judgment,
chooses to be seen in the light; the one has pleased once, the other
will give pleasure if ten times repeated.
O ye elder of the youths, though you are framed to a right judgment by
your father's instructions, and are wise in yourself, yet take this
truth along with you, [and] remember it; that in certain things a medium
and tolerable degree of eminence may be admitted: a counselor and
pleader at the bar of the middle rate is far removed from the merit of
eloquent Messala, nor has so much knowledge of the law as Casselius
Aulus, but yet he is in request; [but] a mediocrity in poets neither
gods, nor men, nor [even] the booksellers' shops have endured. As at an
agreeable entertainment discordant music, and muddy perfume, and poppies
mixed with Sardinian honey give offense, because the supper might have
passed without them; so poetry, created and invented for the delight of
our souls, if it comes short ever so little of the summit, sinks to the
bottom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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