only does the stated ideal at which the translator should aim, vary
with each generation, but perhaps no two lovers of Virgil would agree
at any period as to what this ideal should be. Two general principles
stand out from the mass of conflicting views on this point. The
translation should read as though it were an original poem, and it
should produce on the modern reader as far as possible the same effect
as the original produced on Virgil's contemporaries. And here we
reach the real difficulty, for the scholar who can alone judge what
that effect may have been, is too intimate with the original to see
clearly the merits of a translation, and the man who can only read
the translation can form no opinion. However, it seems clear that
a prose translation can never really satisfy us, because it must
always be wanting in the musical quality of continuous verse. And
our critical experience bears this out, since even Professor Mackail
with all his literary skill and insight has failed to make his version
of the _Aeneid_ more than a very valuable aid to the student of the
original. The meaning of the poet is fully expressed, but his music
has been lost. That oft-quoted line--

'Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt'

haunts us like Tennyson's

'When unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square,'

and no prose rendering can hope to convey the poignancy and pathos
of the original. The ideal translation, then, must be in verse, and
perhaps the best way for us to determine which style and metre are
most suited to convey to the modern reader an impression of the charm