[.ca] Penguin Classics Aeneid (ISBN 0140446273)

Better in Dryden's English than in Virgil's Latin.:
No one would disagree with me more than John Dryden himself, but I believe the poet who died in 1700 gave us a version of The Aeneid which is more enjoyable, at least easier to love, than Virgil's original. There is a claustrophobic feeling in the Latin which is the exact opposite of what one feels in Dryden's heroic couplets. The English poet is carefree, unconstrained; the lines pour from his pen with a certain generosity of spirit. Virgil was misogynistic even by the standard of his own times. Though Dryden, more than sixteen centuries later, was often sexist, he still displayed a warmth and fairness toward women which filters into his translation of Virgil's chaste text (a mindset which paved the way for the male-only Church culture of the medieval era). Dryden doesn't reject the flesh to embrace higher virtues; he rejoices in it, splashes perfume on these human forms. Maybe Dryden didn't show the true nature of Virgil and was better suited to translating Ovid. But that loneliness in a single word, that sadness for the fate of humanity, is in fact present in Dryden's version, though less haunting perhaps than it is in Virgil. The great English epic is not Paradise Lost but rather Dryden's Aeneid. And there is another-- Pope's Iliad. It has often been said that Dryden should have translated all of the Iliad while the more meticulous Pope should have translated Virgil. Yet part of their greatness is the way each's personality works against the original, Pope pruning and arranging the vast wild growth of Homer, Dryden making us wander through new flowers-- new weeds-- in Virgil's tightly-fenced garden. This sort of conflict is one of the main attractions in all art. "Arms and the man I sing who forced by fate/And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate." So Dryden begins, faithful in rhythm and sense to Virgil's "Arma virumque cano." But notice how the first line consists of ten monosyllabic words, something Pope satirized in his Essay on Criticism, and something so unlike the dense packages of sound in Virgil's Latin. It works because it is a great poet translating another great poet. But Dryden is not hesitant to go his own way, and his lively heated personality takes us from the dry grandeur of Roman virtue to something more modern-- more Shakespearean, more like ourselves.

Dryden's stunning translation of Virgil's Aeneid:
The power and majesty of the English language is in all her glory in Dryden's incredible translation of Virgil's Aeneid. All the other translations seem pale beside it.

VirgilÕs Aeneid? The quest continues:
Virgil, with more justification than any Greek, could be hailed as the father of Western Literature. His work has set a benchmark for excellence. Dante referred to Virgil as his Òmaster,Ó Dryden hailed VirgilÕs 'GeorgicsÕ as the perfect poem by the perfect poet. With the Aeneid, Virgil had set out to write another perfect poem, and almost succeeded. Its poetry communicates across the cultural barrier from a period which had made a science of oratory and banked its entire stock in learning and political persuasion on the fine art of oral delivery. I feel it still has an edge over our snazzy sound bites designed to titillate the 30 second attention span of hypnotized telly-junkies. Sustained arguments donÕt come as an ambush on your solar plexus. Nabokov called VirgilÕs poetry Òinsipid,Ó a curious verdict, coming from an admirer of Marcel Proust. But even Proust would have had a hard time had he tried to match VirgilÕs subtle art of low key effects. Virgil was an extremely shy person, afflicted by tuberculosis, a sly smirk under a peasantÕs heavy brow; he spoke with a rustic accent. Modern critics sometimes express disdain for passages in VirgilÕs work, that look like the adulations of a servile courtier. But the AeneidÕs eulogies on the Imperial regime never exceed the noncommittal deference of a peasant, who gives Caesar what is CaesarÕs, in order to be left unmolested, when he minds his own business. There are indications that after the upheavals in 23 BC. which had led to the downfall of VirgilÕs patron and friend, the poet felt increasingly under pressure. It speaks for enormous talent that his best work was written on commission and not merely a product of gratuitous choice. Virgil could accepted limitations and expanded his talent from within proscribed boundaries D how many artists, even of the very greatest, can actually do this? I have a profound respect for Dryden. His translation of VirgilÕs 'Georgics' has added to our language one of its great revelations. Dryden was a devoted admirer of Virgil, and a great scholar, but of a very different temperament. His era has been called the age of the baroque, a period of ornate exuberance and redundant rhetorics. Science was still little understood but it became fashionable to mention NewtonÕs laws and publicly to express a not entirely sincere snobbery in regard to superstition and pagan religions. So DrydenÕs most difficult task as a translator was not just to be faithful to the original, but to ferry VirgilÕs Aeneid across the cultural divide. There was little appreciation for the polish and subtlety of VirgilÕs style, and Dryden wouldnÕt lose his sleep over unashamed padding: ÒMeantime imperial Neptune heard the sound / Of raging billows breaking on the ground. / Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign, / He rear'd his awful head above the main, // (and now the truly majestic touch:) // Serene in majesty; then roll'd his eyes / Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.Ó One almost regrets that Virgil hadnÕt thought of it. He only wrote :ÒInterea magno misceri murmure pontum, / emissamque hiemem sensit Neptunus, et imis / stagna refusa vadis, graviter commotus; et alto / prospiciens, summa placidum caput extulit unda.Ó (Òmeantime great noise disturbed the sea, tossed forth a storm, stirred Neptune on the lowest floor, who, displacing waters of the deep, calmly raised his head above the highest waveÓ) which creates a powerful enough image, though not quite of DrydenÕs grandeur. But for his padding, Dryden more than compensates with his absolutely ingenious use of transpositions. Look how Virgil puts his thoughts in sequence: ÒThere was an ancient city, inhabited by Tyrian husbandmen, Carthage, that faces from afar Ostia at the TiberÕs mouth, of great wealth and most warlike in its enterprise and being dear, itÕs said, more than all the land to Juno, who even Samos held in less esteem. Here they kept her arms, here her chariot, and the goddess hatched designs and hopes for a capital of nations, should destiny permit. Yet surely she had heard that a race of Trojan issue was hereafter to overturn the Tyrian towers, a people born to rule and of warlike pride would lay waste her Lybia, according to destinies decree.Ó And now compare how Dryden inverted this sequence to squeeze into his rhyming couplets the same amount of information and even throw in an additional explanatory note: ÒAgainst the Tiber's mouth, but far away, / An ancient town was seated on the sea; / A Tyrian colony; the people made / Stout for the war, and studious of their trade: / Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno more / Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore. / Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind, / The seat of awful empire she design'd. / Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly, / (Long cited by the people of the sky,) / That times to come should see the Trojan race / Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface; / Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway / Should on the necks of all the nations lay.Ó This is a piece of sure-footed vigor and a rousing good read, but misses on VirgilÕs slightly subdued and more reflective consideration of circumstances. VirgilÕs Aeneid is a great work of art. Neither HumphriesÕ nor MandelbaumÕs and especially not FitzgeraldÕs translation do it justice. If English is the only option, then Dryden is still a very agreeable compromise, even so it is a Virgil in disguise.

"Behold a Nation in a Man compris'd":
John Dryden's 1697 translation of Virgil's Ancient Roman epic "The Aeneid" is, after 300 years, still entertaining and edifying. For students of Restoration/18th Century literature, it is a shining example of the major poetic tradition of the age, Neoclassicism. Dryden, trying with his measured heroic couplets to recapture the high forms of the age of Augustus in Rome, appropriately translates the famous epic of Aeneas, founder of Rome. "The Aeneid" takes up the Homeric tradition, beginning in the aftermath of "The Iliad" and the Trojan War. Aeneas, protected by his mother, the goddess Venus, is advised to flee Troy with the remaining Trojans. He has been fated to found a greater empire in Italy. Juno, queen of the gods, who supported Greece in the Trojan War, has recently heard that the descendants of Troy will destroy her new favourites in Carthage. All of this raises Juno's ire, and she manipulates men and nature in an effort to end the Trojan line. Through Juno's efforts, and in a manner similar to Homer's "Odyssey," the three day journey from Troy to Rome ends up taking many years. Aeneas as a hero is a problematic figure. Though he is a skilled warrior and committed leader, his relationships with women are thoroughly troubled in "The Aeneid." In particular, his treatment of Carthage's Queen Dido and later the Trojan women is questionable. In addition, Aeneas has a tendency to let his introspection and attachment to ceremony draw him away from his people when they need his leadership the most. Often, though, these desperate situations allow the next generation, represented by Aeneas's son Ascanius, to shine in action scenes. Aeneas's foes throughout the poem (Juno, Turnus) offer intense opposition to the wandering Trojans, emphasizing the amount of toil and suffering the Trojans had to endure to establish themselves in a new home and found a new empire. The great thing about Dryden's translation specifically is the way that Dryden dramatizes and references recent problems in England in the context of a Roman epic. In this context, look for references to fires, which are usually described as spreading like "contagion" or "plague." Dryden's personal knowledge of the plague and fire that tore London apart in 1665-6 are important subtexts in the translation. Aeneas and his "exiled" court also fit in with Dryden's concern as a Catholic with the Protestant Succession in the years after the Glorious Revolution of 1688. That Dryden's own historical period finds its way in these and other ways into his translation of the Roman epic are impressive and interesting. Though the heroic couplet/triplet poetic style Dryden uses throughout his translation of "The Aeneid" can be initially difficult, it gradually becomes easier to read and follow. However, in the books dealing with battles, you will want to read slowly, to figure out just who is killing who. Frederick Keener's introduction to this Penguin Classics edition is very helpful, providing detailed explanations of Dryden's style and context. This edition also includes a glossary of names and a map of Aeneas's voyage, so that names that are introduced only briefly can be better understood. Overall, an excellent edition for reading or study.