Dryden’s translation departs but slightly from the original text and at the same time presents the ideas of Lucretius in rhythmical and melodious English: 

    And thou, dost thou disdain to yield thy breath,
    Whose very life is little more than death? 
    More than one-half by lazy sleep possest,
    And when awake, thy soul but nods at best,
    Day-dreams and sickly thoughts revolving in thy breast. 
    Eternal troubles haunt thy anxious mind,
    Whose cause and case thou never hopest to find,
    But still uncertain, with thyself at strife,
    Thou wanderest in the labyrinth of life.

Descriptive poetry also lends itself with comparative ease to translation.  Nothing can be better than the translation made by Mr. Gladstone[36] of Iliad iv. 422-32.  The original Greek runs thus: 

[Greek:  hos d’ hot’ en aigialo polyechei; kyma thalasses ornyt’ epassyteron Zephyrou hypo kinesantos; ponto men te prota koryssetai, autar epeita cherso rhegnymenon megala bremei, amphi de t’ akras kyrton eon koryphoutai, apoptyei d’ halos achnen; hos tot’ epassyterai Danaon kinynto phalanges nolemeos polemonde. keleue de oisin hekastos hegemonon; oi d’ alloi aken isan, oude ke phaies tosson laon hepesthai echont’ en stethesin auden, sige, deidiotes semantoras; amphi de pasi teuchea poikil’ elampe, ta eimenoi estichoonto.]

Mr. Gladstone, who evidently drew his inspiration from the author of “Marmion” and “The Lady of the Lake,” translated as follows: 

    As when the billow gathers fast
      With slow and sullen roar,
    Beneath the keen north-western blast,
      Against the sounding shore. 
    First far at sea it rears its crest,
      Then bursts upon the beach;
    Or with proud arch and swelling breast,
      Where headlands outward reach,
    It smites their strength, and bellowing flings
      Its silver foam afar—­
    So stern and thick the Danaan kings
      And soldiers marched to war. 
    Each leader gave his men the word,
    Each warrior deep in silence heard,
    So mute they marched, them couldst not ken
    They were a mass of speaking men;
    And as they strode in martial might
    Their flickering arms shot back the light.

It is, however, in dealing with poetry which is neither didactic nor descriptive that the difficulty—­indeed often the impossibility—­of reconciling the genius of the two languages becomes most apparent.  It may be said with truth that the best way of ascertaining how a fine or luminous idea can be presented in any particular language is to set aside altogether the idea of translation, and to inquire how some master in the particular language has presented the case without reference to the utterances of his predecessors in other languages.  A good example of this process may be found in comparing the language in which others have treated Vauvenargues’ well-known saying:  “Pour executer de grandes choses, il faut vivre comme si on ne devait jamais mourir.”  Bacchylides[37] put the same idea in the following words: