(no subject)
Today’s poem, Jonson’s Hymn To Cynthia reminded me of a section in the introduction to John Brough’s Poems From The Sanskrit in which he demonstrates the difficulties of translation by ‘translating’ this same poem into various other English versions:
“Royal goddess of the hunt, beautiful maiden, the sun is now sleeping. Take your place on your throne of silver, ruling with the dignity you always possess. The evening star comes as a suppliant to beg for your light, most brilliant of goddesses.
"There may be nothing terribly offensive in such a version, and the reader may even be able to feel, though but dimly, that the original had some poetic merit; but the though content is undeniably slight, and it may be difficult to convince him that the original was worth the bother of translating. We can then, without too much difficulty, produce and alternate version in rhyme and metre:
"Fair maiden, huntress, goddess chaste, and queen,
The sun has set. Come, mount your silver throne,
And let your ever-gracious light serene
To us and to the evening-star be shown.
"There is no great offence here either, and probably enough of the sense of the original remains to allow us to pass the verse as a reasonably fair translation, as translations go; yet neither is there any merit, and the flatness of the verse may conceal the original poetry even more effectively than the prose. And yet the reader who must rely on translations to learn something of a foreign poetry may consider himself fortunate if he is presented with nothing worse than this: for with approximately equal philological justification, and only a little more padding, I might have given him:
"O maiden goddess of the silvery moon,
The sun doth slumber. Grant me then thy boon,
Enthroned in state, as always heretofore:
"For Hesperus doth join us to implore,
Bright lady, huntress of the enchanted night,
The blessing of thy ever-brilliant light.
"And if you dismiss this as worthless, it will not help in the least if I protest that the original verse is considered by many to be a lyric of great merit within its own literature: for this will only invite you to conclude that the rest of the literature must be dreadful indeed.”
Hymn To Cynthia
Ben Jonson
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia’s shining orb was made
Heaven to clear, when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.
“Royal goddess of the hunt, beautiful maiden, the sun is now sleeping. Take your place on your throne of silver, ruling with the dignity you always possess. The evening star comes as a suppliant to beg for your light, most brilliant of goddesses.
"There may be nothing terribly offensive in such a version, and the reader may even be able to feel, though but dimly, that the original had some poetic merit; but the though content is undeniably slight, and it may be difficult to convince him that the original was worth the bother of translating. We can then, without too much difficulty, produce and alternate version in rhyme and metre:
"Fair maiden, huntress, goddess chaste, and queen,
The sun has set. Come, mount your silver throne,
And let your ever-gracious light serene
To us and to the evening-star be shown.
"There is no great offence here either, and probably enough of the sense of the original remains to allow us to pass the verse as a reasonably fair translation, as translations go; yet neither is there any merit, and the flatness of the verse may conceal the original poetry even more effectively than the prose. And yet the reader who must rely on translations to learn something of a foreign poetry may consider himself fortunate if he is presented with nothing worse than this: for with approximately equal philological justification, and only a little more padding, I might have given him:
"O maiden goddess of the silvery moon,
The sun doth slumber. Grant me then thy boon,
Enthroned in state, as always heretofore:
"For Hesperus doth join us to implore,
Bright lady, huntress of the enchanted night,
The blessing of thy ever-brilliant light.
"And if you dismiss this as worthless, it will not help in the least if I protest that the original verse is considered by many to be a lyric of great merit within its own literature: for this will only invite you to conclude that the rest of the literature must be dreadful indeed.”
Hymn To Cynthia
Ben Jonson
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia’s shining orb was made
Heaven to clear, when day did close:
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou that mak’st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.