adhered to the rule of comprising the English within the same number of lines as the Latin.  I believe tills to be almost essential to the preservation of the character of the Horatian lyric, which always retains a certain severity, and never loses itself in modern exuberance; and though I am well aware that the result in my case has frequently, perhaps generally, been a most un-Horatian stiffness, I am convinced from my own experience that a really accomplished artist would find the task of composing under these conditions far more hopeful than he had previously imagined it to be.  Yet it is a restraint to which scarcely any of the previous translators of the Odes have been willing to submit.  Perhaps Professor Newman is the only one who has carried it through the whole of the Four Books; most of my predecessors have ignored it altogether.  It is this which, in my judgment, is the chief drawback to the success of the most distinguished of them, Mr. Theodore Martin.  He has brought to his work a grace and delicacy of expression and a happy flow of musical verse which are beyond my praise, and which render many of his Odes most pleasing to read as poems.  I wish he had combined with these qualities that terseness and condensation which remind us that a Roman, even when writing “songs of love and wine,” was a Roman still.

Some may consider it extraordinary that in discussing the different ways of representing Horatian metres I have said nothing of transplanting those metres themselves into English.  I think, however, that an apology for my silence may he found in the present state of the controversy about the English hexameter.  Whatever may be the ultimate fate of that struggling alien—­and I confess myself to be one of those who doubt whether he can ever be naturalized—­most judges will, I believe, agree that for the present at any rate his case is sufficient to occupy the literary tribunals, and that to raise any discussion on the rights of others of his class would be premature.  Practice, after all, is more powerful in such matters than theory; and hardly at any time in the three hundred years during which we have had a formed literature has the introduction of classical lyric measures into English been a practical question.  Stanihurst has had many successors in the hexameter; probably he has not had more than one or two in the Asclepiad.  The Sapphic, indeed, has been tried repeatedly; but it is an exception which is no exception, the metre thus intruded into our language not being really the Latin Sapphic, but a metre of a different kind, founded on a mistake in the manner of reading the Latin, into which Englishmen naturally fall, and in which, for convenience’ sake, they as naturally persist.  The late Mr. Clough, whose efforts in literature were essentially tentative, in form as well as in spirit, and whose loss for that very reason is perhaps of more serious import to English poetry than if, with equal genius, he had possessed a more conservative habit