John Conington

"It is this principle [i.e. the interpretation of an original] which constitutes the true value of a really good translation—not as superseding the original even to the worst scholar, but as explaining it even to the best."

"An inferior artist's only chance of giving pleasure."

"Blank verse really deserving the name I believe to be impossible except to one or two eminent writers in a generation."

"A critical sense of style and of poetic form is not easy to attain, nor is it of first importance for the younger, or, indeed, for any student of Virgil. Wide open to anyone who is willing to learn is the richer knowledge of Virgil as a poet who loved his country and who loved also that humanity which existed before Rome, exists today within ourselves, and will exist long after our own civilization, like that of Virgil's Rome, has become a matter of "ancient history." It is true that the longer one has lived the better one can appreciate a poem which is concerned with life. But the gain that comes to us with the years depends, partly at least, upon the riches we have been willing to extract from literature, which is the experience of other men and women written out. In youth's search for this treasure the Aeneid will be at once a fair haven and a port of departure."

"There are few writers whose text is in so satisfactory a state as Virgil's."

"Virgil imitated Homer, but imitated him as a rival, not as a disciple."

"In the moment of our talking, envious time has ebb'd away. Seize the present; trust to-morrow e'en as little as you may."

"Ah! Postumus! Devotion fails The lapse of gliding years to stay, With wrinkled age it nought avails Nor conjures conquering Death away."

"Death takes the mean man with the proud; The fatal urn has room for all."

"No, trust the Muse: she opes the good man's grave, And lifts him to the gods."

"So vast the labor to create The fabric of the Roman state!"

"Then should some man of worth appear Whose stainless virtue all revere, They hush, they list: his clear voice rules Their rebel wills, their anger cools."

"Comrades and friends! for ours is strength Has brooked the test of woes; O worse-scarred hearts! these wounds at length The Gods will heal, like those."

"This suffering will yield us yet A pleasant tale to tell."

"Bear up, and live for happier days."

"She turned, and flashed upon their view Her stately neck's purpureal hue; Ambrosial tresses round her head A more than earthly fragrance shed: Her falling robe her footprints swept, And showed the goddess as she stept."

"'Is there, friend,' he cries, 'a spot That knows not Troy's unhappy lot?'"

"E'en here the tear of pity springs, And hearts are touched by human things."

"If men and mortal arms ye slight, Know there are gods who watch o'er right."

"May Heaven, if virtue claim its thought, If justice yet avail for aught; Heaven, and the sense of conscious right, With worthier meed your acts requite!"

"Myself not ignorant of woe, Compassion I have learned to show."

"Too cruel, lady, is the pain, You bid me thus revive again."

"Now dews precipitate the night, And setting stars to rest invite."

"I quail, E'en now, at telling of the tale."

"Then come the clamour and the blare, And shouts and clarions rend the air."

"Fury and wrath within me rave, And tempt me to a warrior's grave."

"'Tis come, our fated day of death."

"We have been Trojans: Troy has been: She sat, but sits no more, a queen."

"Dire agonies, wild terrors swarm, And Death glares grim in many a form."

"I heard, fear-stricken and amazed, My speech tongue-tied, my hair upraised."

"Fell lust of gold! abhorred, accurst! What will not men to slake such thirst?"

"Live and be blest! 'tis sweet to feel Fate's book is closed and under seal. For us, alas! that volume stern Has many another page to turn."

"Snatch him, ye Gods, from mortal eyes!"

"Huge, awful, hideous, ghastly, blind."

"Fear proves a base-born soul."

"She calls it marriage now; such name She chooses to conceal her shame."

"From me you fly! Ah! let me crave, By these poor tears, that hand you gave— Since, parting with my woman's pride, My madness leaves me nought beside— By that our wedlock, by the rite Which, but begun, could yet unite, If e'er my kindness held you bound, If e'er in me your joy you found, Look on this falling house, and still, If prayer can touch you, change your will."

"While memory lasts and pulses beat, The thought of Dido shall be sweet."

"Curst Love! what lengths of tyrant scorn Wreak'st not on those of woman born?"

"A woman's will Is changeful and uncertain still."

"My life is lived, and I have played The part that Fortune gave."

"'To die! and unrevenged!' she said, 'Yet let me die.'"

"Hush your tongues from idle speech."

"They can because they think they can."

"My chief, let Fate cry on or back, 'Tis ours to follow, nothing slack: Whate'er betide, he only cures The stroke of Fortune who endures."

"War, dreadful war, and Tiber flood I see incarnadined with blood."

"The journey down to the abyss Is prosperous and light: The palace gates of gloomy Dis Stand open day and night: But upward to retrace the way And pass into the light of day There comes the stress of labour; this May task a hero's might."

"Back, ye unhallowed!"

"Now for a heart that scorns dismay: Now for a soul prepared."

"Along the illimitable shade Darkling and lone their way they made, Through the vast kingdom of the dead, An empty void, though tenanted: So travellers in a forest move With but the uncertain moon above, Beneath her niggard light."