ὦ Ζεῦ, τί δὴ κίβδηλον ἀνθρώποις κακόν,
γυναῖκας ἐς φῶς ἡλίου κατῴκισας;
εἰ γὰρ βρότειον ἤθελες σπεῖραι γένος,
οὐκ ἐκ γυναικῶν χρῆν παρασχέσθαι τόδε.[41]
Apart, however, from the process to which allusion is made above, very many instances may, of course, be cited, of translations properly so called which have reproduced not merely the exact sense but the vigour of the original idea in a foreign language with little or no resort to paraphrase. What can be better than Cowley's translation of Claudian's lines?—
Ingentem meminit parvo qui germine quercum
Aequaevumque videt consenuisse nemus.
A neighbouring wood born with himself he sees,
And loves his old contemporary trees,
thus, as Gibbon says,[42] improving on the original, inasmuch as, being a good botanist, Cowley "concealed the oaks under a more general expression."
Take also the case of the well-known Latin epigram:
Omne epigramma sit instar apis: sit aculeus illi;
Sint sua mella; sit et corporis exigui.
It has frequently been translated, but never more felicitously or accurately than by the late Lord Wensleydale:
Be epigrams like bees; let them have stings;
And Honey too, and let them be small things.
On the other hand, the attempt to adhere too closely to the text of the original and to reject paraphrase sometimes leads to results which can scarcely be described as other than the reverse of felicitous. An instance in point is Sappho's lines: