Aenid

I had read Robert Fagles’ translation already, but wanted to read a translation with more archaic and florid language. I also was interested in reading a translation that leans into the “translation as interpretation” approach, rather than Fagles’, which is closer in meaning to the original. So I read John Dryden’s translation of The Aeneid from 1697. I also listened to an audiobook of The Aeneid, a translation by C. Day Lewis, which is a translation from 1953. Of the 12 books of the Aeneid, the first 6 are meant to mirror explicitly The Odyssey and the latter 6 meant explicitly to imitate The Iliad. It’s no surprise then, that the first 5 or so books are the best. Despite that, Dryden’s ability to summon emotionally meaningful phrasing from action in which we are otherwise disinterested is impressive. I quote from Book X:

“Then Jove, to soothe his sorrow, thus began / Short bounds of life are set to mortal man /’Tis virtue’s work alone to stretch the narrow span

So many sons of gods, in bloody fight / Around the Walls of Troy have lost their light

My own Sarpedon fell beneath his foe/Nor I, his mighty sire, could ward the final blow

Even Turnus shortly shall resign his breath / And stands already on the verge of Death

And Thus, the God permits the fatal fight / but from the Latian field, averts his sight”

For me, a real emotionally charged moment well conveyed, despite that I care not one bit for the characters of Pallas or Turnus. The most well known, revered, and praised part of the Aeneid is book IV, in which Dido and Aeneas kindle their whirlwind romance and then “””””fate””””” cruelly tears them apart. It is a book filled with longing, sorrow, and resentment. Consider the following passage from Book IV,

“Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close / Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose

The winds no longer whisper through the woods / nor murmuring tides disturb the gentle floods

The stars in silent order moved around; / and Peace, with downy wings, was brooding on the ground

The Flocks, and heads, and party-colored fowl / which haunt the woods and swim the weedy pool

Stretched on the quiet Earth, securely lay / Forgetting the past labors of the day

All else of nature’s common gift partake / Unhappy Dido was, alone, awake

Not Sleep nor ease the furious queen can find / Sleep fled her eyes, quiet fled her mind

Despair, rage, and love divide her heart / Despair and rage have some, but love the greater part.”

What a way to say essentially the same thing as “It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.” Being a life-affirmer, I decline to quote those portions of book IV that are traditionally quoted. Parts of the Aeneid brim with human feelings and etch into one’s mind scenes which not only inform the greater part of subsequent western literature, but are likely to stick with you on an individual level. Despite it being a layered piece of anti-Octavian political propaganda, the “literature’ side of the poem is strong. I’d recommend Dryden’s translation if you are, for example, a fan of Pope’s Iliad and Odyssey. Although, the first 5 books represent the apex of book’s quality.