PROFESSOR CAMPBELL'S "IESCHYL17S."

PROFESSOR CAMPBELL may claim for his translations that they have been put to the test of actual representation on the stage. Three of his versions of Sophocles have been produced either here or in the Colonies, and two others have been utilised as " books of the words" when the originals were being per- formed. Ont of the volume now before us, the Agamemnon has been acted. The peculiar audiences that are collected to witness these classical revivals are doubtless more tolerant than the " first-nighters " who sit in judgment on a new play. Still, a success even under these favourable conditions may be counted for something ; and the character of Professor Camp- bell's versions, though in some important respects they fail to satisfy us, is such as to account for a favourable reception. If they are not adequate presentations of their originals, they are at least intelligible, and, helped by dramatic accessories, they bring the story before the audience with sufficient clearness.

As it is impossible within the limited space that we can

gschylus. The Seven Plays in English Verse. By Lewis Campboll,M.A., LL.D. London : Began Paul and Co. 1890 command, to examine the seven plays in detail, we shall confine our criticism to two,—the Agamemnon, as being at once the greatest effort of the genius of the poet, and the best known of his dramas ; and the Supplices, where we shall have the opportunity of comparing Professor Campbell's work with Mr. J. D. A. Morshead's translation, a very fine rendering of what is confessedly a very difficult original. (By " difficult original," we mean not only a hard piece of construing, though that the Supplices certainly is, but a poem which taxes to the utmost a translator's ingenuity and taste when he seeks

to preserve its literary form.)

We begin by taking the well-known. passage of the Agamemnon which describes the victorious Greeks in Troy :— " Cly. To-day the A.chasans are possessed of Troy.

A jarring din, methinks, is rising there.

Into one vessel pouring oil and vinegar You will not see them lovingly combine, Even so the captives and the.captors' cries Tell diverse tales of Fortune's two-fold power.

Those now are fallen about the prostrate forms Of husbands, brothers, friends,—young children, too, Clinging to grey-haired fathers,—and from throats No longer free, lament their dearest slain.

But these, being wearied with the night's exploit, O'er-watched and hungry, break their fast i' the town

On what is yet to be found there,—not by rule— No order, no precedence, no degree,—

But even as each bath drawn the lot of chance.

So now inhabiting the ransacked homes Of captive Trojans, sheltered from the dews And frosts of the open field, as men released From toil, they will sleep all night, nor dream of danger.

And if they reverence well the gods that hold The captured city, and the temples there, The spoiler may escape being spoiled. But let No lust seduce that host to plunder things Inviolable, As overcome by greed."

There is not much to criticise in Professor Campbell's trans- lation as a rendering of Greek into intelligible English. "Drawn the lot of chance" is weak for grrmarxer, 1-620; scaoy. " Snatched " would be an obvious improvement, and brighten the contrast to what is in the poet's mind, the orderly billeting of an army in a town occupied in the usual way. " Nor dream of danger " is a spiritless version of cipeixaszop, the epithet of ivppopay. The obvious reference to the watches which the victors had been before compelled to keep, is lost. Lastly, "the gods that hold the captured city" will not give to the English reader the true notion of 1: oxia ao ');6 o ; 0E014% " To hold a captured city " is a phrase that might be more properly used of the conquerors. The gods were inhabitants. But, apart from detailed criticism, the whole is feeble and spiritless. Lord Carnarvon's version, while more open to censure in particular (as when poi,/ c'i,arwroy is rendered by " no doubtful cry "), is far more vigorous :— "This day—this very day the Grecian host

Is within captured Troy. And there, -methinks, No doubtful cry is ringing through the town.

Pour oil and acid in the self-same vase,

They'll blend as soon in friendly unison

As the stern victors and the vanquished foes.

Yes ; you may hear -the cry of each distinct—

A double horror—and in fancy see How sire and son and kinsman high are heaped Each on the other, whilst the captives round Mourn for their dear ones who shall ne'er return.

And in their midst the conquering bands of Greece, All rank and order for the time forgot, Famished with toil and blood, through the dark hours Hold their rude revel, with scant rule or form.

No need for them to keep their watch beneath The open vault of heaven, mid frost and dew :

In Trojan homes they dwell ; and free from care

They sleep unguarded through the livelong night.

Yet in their triumph let them mind to pay Due reverence to every god and- shrine Of captured Troy—and so shall they escape The doom of conquerors conquered in their turn."

Now let ns turn to a still more crucial passage,—the sacrifice of Iphigenia " What cared that council, eager for the strife, That on her lips the name of father hung, That unpolluted was her virgin life,

So pure, so bright, so young ! The father bade those priests, after the prayer, Above the altar, face to earth, on high, Like kidling there to lift her ruthlessly, With garments drooping round her, and the fair Sweet month to bridle with speech-stifling force, Lest some faint cry, heard in that ritual's course, Might bring disastrous doom Upon her father's home.

She shed to earth her veil of saffron dye, And smote her sacrificers one by one With pity-kindling arrows from her eye, Willing to speak, as if some artist band That dumb fair piece had done.

How often in her own dear land She charmed the feasters in her father's hall, With pure young voice honouring his festival, And with her loving presence graced the store Of scathless plenty on that palace-floor ! "

There is no little beauty in this; but then, how great the beauty of the original ! Several blemishes may be pointed out. "That unpolluted was her virgin life" rather spoils the per- fectly simple pathos of alina 7respAiygtov. "Heard in that ritual's course " is-an interpolation excused only by the neces- sities of rhyme. The xpoxou Acupe'c; means a robe, not a "veil of saffron dye." Why ",willing to speak " ? Some stronger word is wanted. The victim hoped that the voice which they had heard with delight in her father's hall might charm them now. The triple libation of the original is ill replaced by the " store of se,athless plenty on that palace-floor." Generally, our readers, we think, will feel that the choral odes are not an improvement on the dialogue. If they wish to see another specimen, we shall give, without comment, another equally

well-known passage :-

"' Woe for the palace home ! Woe for her sponse !

Woe for her wifely ways within the house !

He stands dishonoured, silent, murmuring not, Soul-stricken before that nnremoved blot, While longing for the lost one over seas Shall banish all heart's-ease, And in her place her ghost shall seem To rule the house, as in a dream.

The loveliest forms of stone To that deserted one Are hateful. In the spirit's boundless void All sense of beauty sinks destroyed.

' Yet visions of the night, born of regret, Bring to his saddened soul a vain delight. Is it not vain if, when one thinks to reap Strange joy, the cherished object fleets from sight (Even while •with gladdening tears the eyes are wet) On wings that follow with the steps of sleep ? '

Such homefelt wounds within the palace wall Are bleeding. Ay, and would that these were all !- And everywhere through Grecian lands is seen, In each man's home, much heart-corroding teen.

From Grecian lands together forth they went, Each by their loved ones sent, And now the soul of friends is sore To think whom they shall see no more.

Whom they sent forth they know, But to their bitter woe, No well-loved form, but urns of crumbling earth Return to each man's natal hearth."

Professor Campbell's Supplices is, we are inclined to think,

one of his best efforts. His good qualities, among which, as has been said, intelligibility has a chief place, are well dis- played in it. No reader will find his version either obscure or dull. If we think it inferior in dignity to Mr. Morshead's

translation, it is only to a formidable rival that it yields. In

the dialogue we do not see much to choose between them, though Mr. Morshead is clearly a better master of blank verse.

Here are specimens which our readers may compare :-

" Yon cloud of dust, a silent harbinger,

Foretells a coming troop, whose grinding wheels, Whirled on strong axletrees, even now I hear.

And now I see with steeds and chariot-rims A shielded host, spearmen in proud array.

Methinks the leaders of this land are come To view us, moved by tidings they have heard : It may be, without harm ; it may be, whetted To savage ire they move this army on.

In either case, 0 maidens, 'tie most meet Ye settle on this mound, and supplicate

The people's gods that sit in conclave here,—

The altar's refuge is a shield of proof, Mightier than fenced wall."

Mr. Morshead's rendering of the same passage runs thus :— " Lo ! I see afar

Dust, voiceless herald of a host, arise; And, hark, within their grinding sockets ring Axles of hurrying wheels ! I see approach, Borne in carved cars, by speeding horses drawn, A speared and shielded band. The chiefs, perchance, Of this their land are hitherward intent To look on us, of whom they yet have heard By messengers alone. But come who may, And come he peaceful, or in ravening wrath Spurred on his path, 'twere best, in any case,

Damsels, to cling•unto,this altar-mound,

'Made sacred to their godI3 of. festival,— A shrine is stronger than a tower to saw, A shield that none may cleave."

We prefer " goat; of festival " for cIyfin,1,41, OELI, to " gods that sit in conclave." Otherwise the merits of the two fairly balance. It is when we come to the more difficult choral odes that we find distinct superiority in one version over the other.

Here is a really fine lyric piece:— "Pass and adore ye the Blessed, the gods of the city who dwell Around Erasinns, the gush of the swift, immemorial tide. Chant ye, 0 maidens; aloud let the praise of Pelasgia swell ; Hymn we no longer the shores where Nilus to ocean doth glide. Sing we the bounteous streams that ripple and gush through

the city ; Quickening flow they and fertile, the soft new life of the plain. Artemis, maiden most pure, look on us with grace and with pity, Save us from forced embraces : such love hath no crown but pain."

This is sadly diluted and enfeebled in Professor Campbell's rendering :— " CHORUS.

Hail with blessing as ye move All the gods this town who love ! Hail, great lords, that guard this land, Ye that dwell along the strand Erasinus from of old With his stream divine doth hold. Servant-maids, take up the strain ; Praise no more the alluvial plain Nourished by the mouths of Nile, Where ye harboured otherwhile, But Pelasgus' city bless

With bright hymns of thankfulness. Praise the streams, who at their will This fair land with plenty eat Making brilliant life abound Over all the teeming ground. Artemis, behold us now ;

Bend this way thy virgin brow ; Have compassion on our band Moving through the stranger land. Let not forced wedlock come, Cypris' unrelenting doom : Hard were such a lot to bear ! Spare us, Cytherea, spare ! "

" Servant-maids, take up the strain ;

Praise no more the alluvial plain,"

are especially prosaic.

We have the greatest respect for Professor Campbell's ser- vices to classical literature ; but while recognising the con- scientious industry and careful scholarship which he has brought to this task, we cannot honestly say that he has done justice to his original.