Discourses on Satire and on Epic Poetry — A Reader’s Guide

The Meter Gap: Latin Hexameter vs. English Heroic

Dryden makes a precise technical observation about the difference in syllable count between Latin hexameter and English heroic verse. He cites Virgil's line "Pulverulenta putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum" as an example of a Latin hexameter that rises to seventeen syllables, while English heroic verse consists of no more than ten. The medium, he notes, is about fourteen syllables because the dactyl is more frequent than the spondee. This metrical disparity, he argues, doomed Holyday's attempt to make one English line contain the sense of one of Juvenal's. The result was verse crowded with "ill-sounding monosyllables" and a translation more obscure than the original. Dryden's own approach, he claims, gives "the most considerable part" of Juvenal's sense while remaining clear enough that few notes are needed.

Pleasure as an End of Poetry

Dryden directly addresses the question of poetry's purpose, asserting that "pleasure is one of the ends of poetry." He acknowledges the counterargument that instruction is the only end, but insists that without pleasure, instruction becomes "a bare and dry philosophy." He points to Aristotle and Epictetus as sources from whom moral lessons can be had "with more profit than from any poet." This defense of pleasure is tied to his criticism of Holyday and Stapleton, who, he says, failed to imitate Juvenal in his "poetical part"—his diction and elocution. Neither, Dryden claims, were poets, and their method made poetic success impossible. The passage reveals Dryden's broader critical stance: poetry must delight before it can instruct, and a translator must be a poet to convey the original's spirit.

Audience and the Translator's Task

Dryden distinguishes his audience from that of earlier translators, stating that he writes "for fame, and wrote to scholars; we write only for the pleasure and entertainment of those gentlemen and ladies who, though they are not scholars, are not ignorant." This shift in intended readership shapes his translation choices. He aims to satisfy readers who, not having made Latin verse their business, wish to know if the wit of Juvenal and Persius matches their reputation. Dryden claims to have followed his authors "at greater distance" than Holyday and Stapleton, who went "step by step" and thus hurt the originals. The metaphor of pursuit—treading on heels, losing the soul—underscores his belief that a translator must preserve the author's spirit through judicious freedom, not slavish literalism.

Dryden's discourses are best approached as a working critic's reflections on the craft of translation and the nature of poetry. Readers will find his arguments grounded in specific comparisons between Latin and English verse, and his judgments shaped by a clear sense of audience. The excerpts show a writer confident in his own method, willing to name predecessors and point out their failures. Those interested in Restoration criticism or the history of translation will find these pages a direct, opinionated source.

There’s something tender in Dryden’s old insistence that poetry ought to please, not merely instruct. It reminds me of evenings spent with Character Building Being Addresses Delivered on Sunday Evenings to the Students of Tuskegee Institute — Inside the Classic, where the same gentle conviction hums through every page. Both books feel less like arguments and more like wise friends speaking quietly, past the noise.