it were an Injury to the Author that they should be chang'd: But fince every Language is fo full of its own Proprieties, that what is Beautiful in one, is often Barbarous, nay fometimes Nonfenfe in another, it would be unreasonable to limit a Tranflator to the narrow Compafs of his Author's Words: Tis enough if he choose out fome Expreffion which does not vitiate the Senfe. I fuppofe he may ftretch his Chain to fuch a Latitude; but, by Innovation of Thoughts, methinks, he breaks it. By this means the Spirit of an Author may be transfus'd, and yet not loft: And thus 'tis plain, that the Reafon alledged by Sir John Denham has no farther Force than to Expreffion: For Thought, if it be tranflated truly, cannot be loft in another Language; but the Words that convey it to our Apprehenfion (which are the Image and Ornament of that Thought) may be fo ill chofen, as to make it appear in an unhandsom Dress, and rob it of its native Luftre. There is, therefore, a Liberty to be allow'd for the Expreffion; neither is it neceffary that Words and Lines fhould be confin'd to the Measure of their Original. The Sense of an Author, generally fpeaking, is to be Sacred and Inviolable. If the Fancy of Ovid be luxuriant, 'tis his Character to be fo; and, if I retrench it, he is no longer Ovid. It will be reply'd, that he receives Advantage by this lopping of his fuperfluous Branches; but I rejoin, that a Tranflator has no fuch Right. When a Painter copies from the Life, I fuppofe he has no Privilege to alter Features, and Lineaments, under Pretence that his Picture will look better: perhaps, the Face, which he has drawn, would be more exact, if the Eyes or Nose were alter'd; but 'tis his Bufinefs to make it resemble the Original. In two Cafes only there may a feeming Difficulty arife; that is, if the Thought be notor

riously

riously trivial, or difhoneft; But the fame Anfwer will ferve for both, that then they ought not to be tranflated:

Et qua

Defperes tractata nitefcere poffe, relinquas.

Thus I have ventur'd to give my Opinion on this Subject against the Authority of two great Men, but I hope without Offence to either of their Memories; for I both lov'd them living, and reverence them now they are dead. But, if, after what I have urg'd, it be thought by better Judges, that the Praise of a Tranflation confifts in adding new Beauties to the Piece, thereby to recompenfe the Lofs, which it sustains by change of Language, I fhall be willing to be taught better, and to recant. In the mean time, it feems to me, that the true Reafon, why we have fo few Verfions which are tolerable, is not from the too close pursuing of the Author's Senfe, but because there are fo few, who have all the Talents, which are requifite for Tranflation, and that there is fo little Praife, and fo fmall Encouragement, for fo confiderable a Part of Learning.

VOL. II.

F

CANACE

CANACE to MACAREUS.

EPIST. xi.

The ARGUMENT.

Macareus and Canace, Son and Daughter to Eolus, God of the Winds, lov'd each other incestuously: Canace was deliver' d of a Son, and committed him to her Nurse, to be fecretly convey'd away. The Infant crying out, by that means was discover'd to Æolus, who, inrag'd at the Wickedness of his Children, commanded the Babe to be expos'd to Wild Beafts on the Mountains: And withal, fent a Sword to Canace, with this Meffage, That her Crimes would inftruct her how to use it. With this Sword he flew her felf: But before she dy'd, fhe writ the following Letter to her Brother Macareus, who. bad taken Sanctuary in the Temple of Apollo.

I

F ftreaming Blood my fatal Letter ftain,
Imagine, ere you read, the Writer flain;
One Hand the Sword, and one the Pen
employs,

And in my Lap the ready Paper lies.
Think in this Pofture thou behold'At me write :

In this my cruel Father would delight.

F 2

O! were

O! were he present, that his Eyes and Hands!
Might fee, and urge, the Death which he commands :
Than all the raging Winds more dreadful, he,
Unmov'd, without a Tear, my Wounds would see.
Jove justly plac'd him on a ftormy Throne,
His People's Temper is fo like his own.

The North and South, and each contending Blaft,
Are underneath his wide Dominion cast:
Thofe he can rule; but his Tempestuous Mind
Is, lile his airy Kingdom, unconfin'd.

Ah! what avail my kindred Gods above,
That in their Number I can reckon Jove!
What help will all my Heav'nly Friends afford,
When to my Breaft I lift the pointed Sword?
That Hour, which join'd us, came before its Time:
In Death we had been one without a Crime.
Why did thy Flames beyond a Brother's move?
Why lov'd I thee with more than Sifter's Love?
For I lov'd too; and knowing not my Wound,
A fecret Pleasure in thy Kiffes found:
My Cheeks no longer did their Colour boast,
My Food grew loathfome, and my Strength I loft:
Still ere I fpoke, a Sigh would flop my Tongue;
Short were my Slumbers, and my Nights were long.
I knew not from my Love these Griefs did grow,
Yet was, alas, the thing I did not know.
My wily Nurfe by long Experience found,
And firft difcover'd to my Soul its Wound.
'Tis Love, faid the; and then my down-caft Eyes,
And guilty Dumbnefs, witnefs'd my Surprize.
Fore'd at the laft, my fhameful Pain I tell :
And, oh, what follow'd we both know too well!

66

When half denying, more than half content,
Embraces warm'd me to a full Confent.

" Then