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15 of 20 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
"...one whom Virtue crowned...", March 25, 2002
[This review refers to the Dover Thrift verse edition of the AENEID translated into English by Charles J. Billson in 1906.] As incredible as it may seem, I prefer this Billson verse translation over that of Allen Mandelbaum (which I also have in the Bantam Classic edition, 1970). What causes one person to like one translation, and another to prefer someone else's? It is a matter of taste, but also of conditioning through aesthetic experience and expectation. I have read a great many poems in a great many forms. To my sense and sensibility there is something about the Mandelbaum translation of the AENEID which is too confining...too clipped... it does not seem, to me, to flow freely. And yet Billson's translation has archaic word choices -- but the flow of his translation seems more interesting and "freer" than that of Mandelbaum. Here is a sample of Mandelbaum: I sing of arms and of a man: his fate had made him fugitive; he was the first to journey from the coasts of Troy as far as Italy and the Lavinian shores. Across the lands and waters he was battered beneath the violence of High Ones, for the savage Juno's unforgetting anger; and many sufferings were his in war -- [Bantam Classic, 1970.] And here is Billson in the Dover edition with the same passage: Arms and the Man I sing, who first from Troy A Doom-led exile, on Lavinian shores Reached Italy; long tossed on sea and land By Heaven's rude arm, through Juno's brooding ire, And war-worn long ere building for his Gods A Home in Latium: whence [came] the Latin race, The Lords of Alba, and high-towering Rome. To my senses, and sensibility, there is something about Billson's language and flow which seems to have more august grandeur -- epic style, sound, and sweep. Here is an even more telling example -- the famous scene in which Aeneas plucks the Golden Bough: [Mandelbaum:] ...just so the gold leaves seemed against the dark-green ilex; so in the gentle wind, the thin gold leaf was crackling. And at once Aeneas plucks it and, eager, breaks the hesitating bough and carries it into the Sibyl's house. [Billson:] So on that shadowy oak the leafy gold Glimmered, and tinkled in the rustling air. Forthwith Aeneas grasped the clinging bough, And plucked, and bare it toward the Sibyl's cell. There seems to me a fineness of poetic sensitivity there, in Billson, to choose those words just so -- and have the words almost resonate with the sounds of the objects they are describing.
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