He beares the bell in all respects who good with sweete doth minge:
Who can in delectable style good counsaile with him bring.
His bookes the stationers will bye, beyonte Sea it will goe,
And will conserve the authors name a thowsand yeare, and mo.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

But he hath every suffrage can apply
Sweet mix'd with soure, to his reader, so
As doctrine and delight together goe.
This book will get thee Socij money; this
Will passe the Seas; and long as Nature is
With honour make the far-known Author live.
[tr. Jonson (1640), l. 490ff]

But he that joyns instructions with delight,
Profit with pleasure, carries all the Votes;
These are the Volumes that enrich the Shops,
These pass with admiration through the World,
And bring their Author an Eternal fame.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

Profit and pleasure, then, to mix with art,
To inform the judgment, nor to bend the heart,
Shall gain all votes; to booksellers shall raise
No trivial fortune, and across the seas
To distant nations spread the writer's fame,
And with immortal honours crown his name.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

But he who precept with amusement blends,
And charms the fancy while the heart he mends,
Wins every suffrage. Rarely shall he miss
To enrich the Sosii with a piece like this:
Seas shall it traverse, and the writer's page
Hand down his glories to a distant age.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

He who joins the instructive with the agreeable, carries off every vote, by delighting and at the same time admonishing the reader. This book gains money for the Sosii; this crosses the sea, and continues to its renowned author a lasting duration.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

But he who, mixing grave and gay, can teach
And yet give pleasure, gains a vote from each:
His works enrich the vendor, cross the sea,
And hand the author down to late posterity.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

He wins all suffrages who, while he charms.
Instructs the soul, the heart to virtue warms,
And so what ministers to use unites
With what is beautiful in all he writes.
These are the works on which the Sosii thrive,
That cross the seas, to times remote survive.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

He meets with acceptance everywhere who blends the practical with the pleasant, by equally delighting and instructing the reader. Such a book enriches the Sosii, travels across the sea, and confers immortality on its famous author.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

He has won every vote who has blended profit and pleasure, at once delighting and instructing the reader. That is the book to make money for the Sosii; this the one to cross the sea and extend to a distant day its author's fame.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

He wins every vote who combines the sweet and the useful,
Charming the reader and warning him equally well.
This book will bring in money for Sosius and Son,
Booksellers, travel across the sea, and extend
Its author's fame a long distance into the future.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

The poet winning every vote blends the useful with the sweet,
giving pleasure to his reader while he offers him advice.
His book will make the Sosii money and travel overseas,
and far into the years ahead extend its author's name.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Tame sense with a dash of sugar,
Storke your reader's cheeks while you box his ears.
Then everyone reads you, your royalties mount
Like gushing oil, foreigners run for your latest title
And read you long after you've turned to dust.
So: make your own memorial!
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

He who provides to all both profit and pleasure
Wins everybody's vote; his book will bring
Money for bookstore owners and fame across
The seas and down the years to the author himself.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

Everyone votes for the man who mixes wholesome and sweet,
giving his reader an equal blend of help and delight.
That book earns the Sosii money; it crosses the ocean,
winning fame for the author and ensuring long survival.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Who can blend usefulness and sweetness wins every
Vote, at once delighting and teaching the reader.
That’s the book that earns the Sosii money, crosses
The seas, and wins its author fame throughout the ages.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

He wins every hand who mingles profit with pleasure, by delighting and instructing the reader at the same time.
[ed. Bartlett's]

The cheares of men as these will smerke on those that use to smyle:
So are theye wrinchd, when theye do weepe and chaungd within a whyle.
If thou wouldste have me weepe for the firste muste thou pensyfe be.
Thy harmes shall hitte me, when I spy that they have harmed thee.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

To worke the hearers minds, still to the plight.
Mens count'nances, with such as laugh, are prone
To laughter: so they grieve with those that mone:
If thou wouldst have mee weep, bee thou first dround
Thy selfe in tears, then me thy harms will wound,
[tr. Jonson (1640); l. 145ff]

We Weep and Laugh as we see others doe,
He only makes me sad who shews the way,
And first is sad himself, then (Telephus)
I feel the weight of your Calamities,
And fancy all your miseries my Own.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

With them, who laugh, our social joy appears;
With them, who mourn, we sympathise in tears;
If you would have me weep, begin the strain,
Then I shall feel your sorrows, feel your pain.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

With those that smile, our face in smiles appears;
With those that weep, our cheeks are bath'd in tears:
To make me grieve, be first your anguish shown,
And I shall feel your sorrows like my own.
[tr. Coleman (1783)]

From face to face as smiles contagious creep,
so weeps the according eye with those that weep.
Who claims my tears, must first display his own;
Then shall I catch his pangs and share his moan.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

As the human countenance smiles on those that smile, so does it sympathize with those that weep. If you would have me weep you must first express the passion of grief yourself; then, Telephus or Peleus, your misfortunes hurt me.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

A face all smiles makes other faces smile,
A face all tears will tears from others wile.
Unless, then, in your voice a sob I hear,
You will not wring from me a single tear.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

As human countenances laugh with those who laugh so they weep with those who weep. If you desire me to weep, O Telephus or Peleus, yourself must first lead the way; then you thrill through me.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

As men's faces smile on those who smile, so they respond to those who weep. If you would have me weep, you must first feel grief yourself: then, O Telephus or Peleus, will your misfortunes hurt me.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

As the human face answers a smile with a smile, so does it wait upon tears; if you would have me weep, you must first of all feel grief yourself; then and not till then will your misfortunes, Telephus or Peleus, touch me.
[tr. Blakeney; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

A man’s face is wreathed in smiles when he sees someone smile;
It twists when he sees someone cry; if you expect me
To burst into tears, you have to feel sorrow yourself.
Then your woes will fasten on me, O Telephus, Peleus.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

Just as laughter inspires laughter, tears bring tears
to human faces; if you want my tears, you first must
weep yourself. Then your agonies will hurt me too.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

We smile when we see smiling, weep at tears:
Ask me to sob
when you can sob
yourself --
Then (ah) tragic heroes are tragic
(To me).
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

Men smile if the language smiles;
They weep if the language truly weeps. If you
Desire to hear me weep, you must truly grieve,
O Peleus or Telephus, and I
Grieve as if I suffered your cause of grief.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

When a person smiles, people's faces smile in return;
when he weeps, they show concern. Before you can move me to tears,
you must grieve yourself. Only then will your woes distress me.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

As the human face smiles at a smile, so it echoes
Those who weep: if you want to move me to tears
You must first grieve yourself: then Peleus or Telephus
Your troubles might pain me.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

A man may soner beare awaye and rather kepe in mynde
The thinge deryded, then that is prayse worthie in his kynde.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

For Readers so malicious now are growne,
What's bad they'll con, what's good they let alone.
[tr. W. P.; ed. Brome (1666)]

For what's derided by the Censuring Crowd,
Is thought on more than what is just and Good.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

For quickly we discern,
With ease remember, and with pleasure learn,
Whate'er may ridicule and laughter move,
Not what deserves our best esteem and love.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

For sooner caught and steadier to abide
On memory's tablet that which we deride,
Than what revere.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

For one learns sooner, and more willingly remembers, that which a man derides, than that which he approves and venerates.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

For easier 'tis to learn and recollect
What moves derision than what claims respect.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

For we learn quicker, gladlier recollect
What makes us laugh, than what commands respect.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

The subject of our zeal sooner hears of, and is more inclined to remember, that which any one laughs at in the production than what he approves of and eulogizes.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

For a man learns more quickly and remembers more easily that which he laughs at, than that which he approves and reveres.
[E.g. (1907)]

For one sooner learns
And easier remembers such concerns
As men deride that those men favor lend
And venerate.
[tr. A. F. Murison (1931); ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

For we all more quickly learn and easily remember
the poems we scorn than those we approve of and respect.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

And writers of foolish poems often find
They're vividly and scornfully remembered.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

For a thing that causes merriment is always sooner learnt
and longer remembered than what commands respect and approval.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Men remember more quickly, with greater readiness,
Things they deride, than those they approve and respect.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

For there was no one so disinclined to the Muses as not willingly to endure that the praise of his labours should be made immortal by means of verse.
[tr. Yonge (1856)]

For there is nobody so averse to the Muses as not to suffer the eternal cry of their labour to be readily committed to verse.
[tr. M'Donogh Mahony (1886)]

For indeed is there anyone so averse to the Muses who would not readily suffer (that) the eternal panegyric of his labors [should] be committed to verse.
[tr. Dewey (1916)]

For indeed there is no man to whom the Muses are so distasteful that he will not be glad to entrust to poetry the eternal emblazonment of his achievements.
[tr. Watts (Loeb) (1923)]

Indeed, there never was any one such a stranger to poetic feeling as not readily to allow the immortal advertisement of his deeds to be committed to verse.
[tr. Allcroft/Plaistowe (c. 1925)]

There is no one so averse to the Muses that he would not readily submit to having an eternal monument of his own labors made in verse.
[tr. @sentantiq [Erik] (2016)]

It must be borne in mind that there are many men who, without being productive, yet want to say something significant; and thus the most curious things are brought to light.
[tr. Rönnfeldt (1900)]

One has to remember that there are quite a lot of people who would like to say something significant without being productive, and then the most peculiar things see the light of day.
[tr. Stopp (1995), #497]

Several things are insupportable if they are but indifferent, as Poetry, Music, Painting and Public Speeches.
'Tis the worst punishment in the world to hear a dull Declamation deliver'd with Pomp and Solemnity, and bad Verses rehears'd with the Emphasis of a wretched Poet.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

Somethings are insupportable if they are but indifferent, as Poetry, Musick, Painting, and Publick Speeches.
What a Punishment is it to hear a cold Declamation deliver'd with Pomp and Solemnity, and indifferent Verses repeated with all the Emphasis of a bad Poet!
[Curll ed. (1713)]

Some things won't bear a Mediocrity, as Poetry, Musick, Painting and Oratory.
What a cruel Torture is it to hear a dull Declamation delivered with Pomp and Solemnity, or bad Verses rehearsed with the Emphasis of a wretched Poet!
[Browne ed. (1752)]

In certain things mediocrity is unbearable, as in poetry, music, painting, and eloquence. How we are tortured when we hear a dull soliloquy delivered in a pompous tone, or indifferent verses read with all the emphasis of a wretched poet!
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

There are some things that will not bear mediocrity; poetry, music, painting, oratory.
[tr. Lee (1903)]

It's a tightly filled whistle,
it's the squeaking of jostled ice,
it's night, frosting the leaves,
it's two nightingales dueling.
It's the soundlessness of sweetpeas,
the tears of the universe in a pod.
[tr. Rudman/Boychuk (1983)]

It's a whistle that howls in the veins,
It's the crackle of ice under pressure,
It's the leaf-chilling night in the rain,
It's two nightingales dueling together.
It's the sweet pea all choked in the fields,
It's the universe weeping in pea pods.
[tr. Falen (2012)]

It’s a whistle, acutely full,
It’s a crackle of squeezed ice,
It’s night, freezing a leaf,
It’s two nightingales in a duel.
It’s the sweet grown-wildness of peas,
It’s tears of the universe in pods.
[tr. Livingstone (2015)]

It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice,
It's the cracking of ice in a gale,
It's a night that turns green leaves to ice,
It's a duel of two nightingales.
It is sweet-peas run gloriously wild,
It's the world's twinkling tears in the pod.
[Source]

Flames Theodore's Pierian roofs did seize.
Can this Apollo, this the Muses, please?
O oversight of the gods! O dire disaster!
To burn the harmless house, and spare the master!
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]

Poor poet Dogrel's house consum'd by fire?
Is the muse pleas'd? or father of the lyre?
O cruel Fate! what injury you do,
To burn the house! and not the master too!
[tr. Hay (1755), ep. 94]

The poor poet Theodore's goods, in a flame,
Gave you, wicked Muses, and Phebus full glee.
Ye sov'rain disposers, what sin and what shame,
That holder and house so disparted should be!
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 3, ep. 49]

Fitzgerald's house hath been on fire -- the Nine
All smiling saw that pleasant bonfire shine.
Yet -- cruel Gods! Oh! ill-contrived disaster!
The house is burnt -- the house -- without the Master!
[tr. Byron (c. 1820); referencing Irish/British poet, William Thomas Fitzgerald (1759-1829)]

The flames have destroyed the Pierian dwelling of the bard Theodorus. Is this agreeable to you, you muses, and you, Phoebus? Oh shame, oh great wrong and scandal of the gods, that house and householder were not burned together!
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]

The poetic abode of bard Theodorus a fire has destroyed. Does this please you, ye Muses, and you, Phoebus? Oh, what guilt, oh, what a huge crime and scandal of the gods is here! House and master did! House and master did not burn together!
[tr. Ker (1919)]

A poet’s house consumed by fire!
Phoebus and ye, the heavenly choir,
What vengeance will ye now require
For such a fell disaster?
How foul a deed, how black a shame!
Can men acquit the gods of blame
When they delivered to the flame
The house and not its master?
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921), "The Gods' Mistake"]

Where were ye, Muses, when in angry flame
Sank Pye's Pierian dwelling? Phoebus, shame!
Oh cruel sin, o scandal to the sky,
To bake the Pye-dish and forget the Pye!
[tr. Francis & Tatum (1924), ep. 634; referring to Henry James Pye (1745-1813), Poet Laureate of the UK]

Not a single trace remains
Of poet Theodorus' home.
Everything completely burned,
Every last poetic tome!
You Muses and Apollo too,
Now are you fully satisfied?
O monstrous shame that when it burned
The poet was not trapped inside!
[tr. Marcellino (1968)]

Flames have gutted th' abode Pierian
Of the wide-renowned poet Theodorus.
Didst thou permit this sacrilege, Apollo?
Where were ye, Muse's Chorus?
Ay me, I fondly sight, that was a crime,
A wicked deed, a miserable disaster.
Ye gods are much to blame: ye burnt the house
But failed to singe its master!
[tr. Wender (1980)]

Ted's studio burnt down, with all his poems.
Have the Muses hung their heads?
You bet, for it was criminal neglect
not also to have sautéed Ted.
[tr. Matthews (1992)]

Fire has consumed the Pierian home of poet Theodoras. Does this please the Muses and you, Phoebus? Oh crime, oh monstrous villainy and reproach to heaven! -- that house and householder did not perish together.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]

Flames took the home of poet Theodorus.
Are the Muses and Phoebus pleased with this disaster?
What a great crime and insult to the gods
not to have burned together home and master!
[tr. McLean (2014)]

Of all English and American poets not a half-dozen have been able to write good blank-verse; and the six hundred Californian poets are not among them.

The more deale of us Poets, both the olde, and younge most parte,
Are ofte begylde by shewe of good, affectinge to muche arte.
I laboure to be verye breife, it makes me verye harde.
I followe flowinge easynes, my style is clearely marde
For lacke of pith and saverye sence, Write loftie, thou shalte swell:
He creepes by the grounde to lowe, afrayde with stormie vayne to mell.
He that in varyinge one pointe muche would bringe forth monstruouse store,
Would make the dolphin dwell in wooddes and in the flud the bore.
The shunning of a faulte is such that now and then it will
Procure a greater faulte, if it be not eschewde by skill.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

The greater part, that boast the Muses fire
Father, and sons right worthy of your Sire,
Are with the likenesse of the truth beguil'd:
My selfe for shortnesse labour, and am stil'd
Obscure. Another striving smooth to runne,
Wants strength, and sinewes, as his spirits were done;
His Muse professing height, and greatnesse, swells;
Downe close by shore, this other creeping steales,
Being over-safe, and fearing of the flaw:
So he that varying still affects to draw
One thing prodigiously, paints in the woods
A Dolphin and a Boare amidst the floods:
The shunning vice, to greater vice doth lead,
If in th'escape an artlesse path we tread.
[tr. Jonson (1640), l. 33ff]

Most Poets fall into the grossest faults,
Deluded by a seeming Excellence:
By striving to be short, they grow Obscure,
And when they would write smoothly they want strength,
Their Spirits sink; while others that affect,
A lofty Stile, swell to a Tympany;
Some timerous wretches start at every blast,
And fearing Tempests, dare not leave the Shore.
Others in love with wild variety,
Draw Boars in Waves, and Dolphins in a Wood;
Thus fear of Erring, joyn'd with want of Skill,
Is a most certain way of Erring still.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

But oft, our greatest errors take their rise
From our best views. I strive to be concise;
I prove obscure. My strength, my fire decays,
When in pursuit of elegance and ease.
Aiming at greatness, some to fustian soar;
Some in cold safety creep along the shore,
Too much afraid of storms; while he, who tries
With ever-varying wonders to surprise,
In the broad forest bids his dolphins play,
And paints his boars disporting in the sea.
Thus, injudicious, while one fault we shun,
Into its opposite extreme we run.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Lov'd sire! lov'd sons, well worthy such a sire!
Most bards are dupes to beauties they admire.
Proud to be brief, for brevity must please,
I grow obscure; the follower of ease
Wants nerve and soul; the lover of sublime
Swells to bombast; while he who dreads that crime,
Too fearful of the whirlwind rising round,
A wretched reptile, creeps along the ground.
The bard, ambitious fancies who displays,
And tortures one poor thought a thousand ways,
Heaps prodigies on prodigies; in woods
Pictures the dolphin, and the boar in floods!
Thus ev'n the fear of faults to faults betrays,
Unless a master-hand conduct the lays.
[tr. Coleman (1783)]

The great majority of us poets, father, and youths worthy such a father, are misled by the appearance of right. I labor to be concise, I become obscure: nerves and spirit fail him, that aims at the easy: one, that pretends to be sublime, proves bombastical: he who is too cautious and fearful of the storm, crawls along the ground: he who wants to vary his subject in a marvelous manner, paints the dolphin in the woods, the boar in the sea. The avoiding of an error leads to a fault, if it lack skill.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Ye worthy trio! we poor sons of song
Oft find 'tis fancied right that leads us wrong.
I prove obscure in trying to be terse;
Attempts at ease emasculate my verse;
Who aims at grandeur into bombast falls;
Who fears to stretch his pinions creeps and crawls;
Who hopes by strange variety to please
Puts dolphins among forests, boars in seas.
Thus zeal to 'scape from error, if unchecked
By sense of art, creates a new defect.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

We poets, most of us, by the pretence,
Dear friends, are duped of seeming excellence.
We grow obscure in striving to be terse;
Aiming at ease, we enervate our verse;
For grandeur soaring, into bombast fall,
And, dreading that, like merest reptiles crawl;
Whilst he, who seeks his readers to surprise
With common things shown in uncommon wise,
Will make his dolphins through the forests roam.
His wild boars ride upon the billows' foam.
So unskilled writers, in their haste to shun
One fault, are apt into a worse to run.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

The greater part of us poets, O ye Father and Sons worthy of your parent, deceive ourselves under our illusion of what is right. I strive to write briefly, and so write obscurely. Compositions of a smooth nature argue a writer's deficiency both in force and spirit. An attempt at great subjects swells into bombast. A too cautious writer, and dreader of opposition, confines himself to common things. One who desires to amplify a single theme in an extravagant way, puts a dophin innto a wood, and a wild boar into the sea. The avoidance of one error, if unguarded by art, leads to another.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

Most of us poets are misled by insistence upon our idea of what is right. I try to be brief and I become obscure; aiming at smoothness, we lose in vigor and spirit; attempting the sublime, we become turgid. Timid of the storm, we crawl along the ground. Thus if one lacks art, the over careful avoidance of one fault leads to another.
[tr. Dana/Dana (1911)]

Most of us poets, O father and ye sons worthy of the father, deceive ourselves by the semblance of truth. Striving to be brief, I become obscure. Aiming at smoothness, I fail in force and fire. One promising grandeur, is bombastic; another, overcautious and fearful of the gale, creeps along the ground. The man who tries to vary a single subject in monstrous fashion, is like a painter adding a dolphin to the woods, a boar to the waves. Shunning a fault may lead to error, if there be lack of art.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

Most of us poets -- O father, and sons worthy of your father, -- are misled by our idea of what is correct. I try to be terse, and end by being obscure; another strives after smoothness, to the sacrifice of vigour and spirit; a third aims at grandeur, and drops into bombast; a fourth, through an excess of caution and fear of squalls, goes creeping along the ground. He who is bent on lending variety to a theme that is by nature uniform, so as to produce an unnatural effect, is like a man who paints a dolphin in a forest or a wild boar in the waves. If artistic feeling is not there, mere avoidance of a fault leads to some worse defect.
[tr. Blakeney; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

O father, and sons who deserve a father like yours,
We poets are too often tricked into trying to achieve
A particular kind of perfection: I studiously try
To be brief, and become obscure; I try to be smooth,
And my vigor and force disappear; another assures us
Of something big which turns out to be merely pompous.
Another one crawls on the ground because he's too safe,
Too much afraid of the storm. The poet who strives
To vary his single subject in wonderful ways
Paints dolphins in woods and foaming boars on the waves.
Avoiding mistakes, if awkwardly done, leads to an error.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

Most poets, father and young men deserving such a father,
go wrong in trying to be right: I struggle for concision,
I wind up being obscure; others try for smoothness
and lose strength, or for sublimit, and get gas.
One poet, too cautious, fears storms and craws along,
the other craves bizarre variety in a single subject
and paints a dolphin in a forest, a boar among the waves.
Fear of criticism leads to faults if we lack art.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Most poets, leaders and led,
Chase a will-o’-the-wisp of abstract Right.
Thus:
I aim
at concision,
I hit
on darkness.
I aim to be smooth, my lines go slack.
The eloquent idealist rants and raves,
The timid, the gutless, crawl like beetles,
Seekers after novelty hang dolphins in trees,
Float a boar in the sea:
O rare effects!
O marvelous.
Ugh.
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

Father and worthy sons, we poets often
Know what we're aiming at, and often we miss.
I try my best to be terse, and I'm obscure;
I try for mellifluous smoothness, smooth as can be,
And the line comes out as spineless as a worm;
One poet, aiming for grandeur, booms and blusters;
Another one, scared, creeps his way under the storm;
And another, desiring to vary his single theme
In wonderful ways, produces not wonders but monsters --
Dolphins up in the trees, pigs in the ocean.
If you don't know what you're doing you can go wrong
Just out of trying to do your best to do right.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

Poets in the main (I’m speaking to a father and his excellent sons)
are baffled by the outer form of what’s right. I strive to be brief,
and become obscure; I try for smoothness, and instantly lose
muscle and spirit; to aim at grandeur invites inflation;
excessive caution or fear of the wind induces groveling.
The man who brings in marvels to vary a simple theme
is painting a dolphin among the trees, a boar in the billows.
Avoiding a fault will lead to error if art is missing.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Most poets (dear sir, and you sons worthy of your sire),
Are beguiled by accepted form. I try to be brief
And become obscure: aiming at smoothness I fail
In strength and spirit: claiming grandeur he’s turgid:
Too cautious, fearing the blast, he crawls on the ground:
But the man who wants to distort something unnaturally
Paints a dolphin among the trees, a boar in the waves.
Avoiding faults leads to error, if art is lacking.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

• "The poet should prefer probable impossibilities to improbable possibilities." [tr. Butcher (1895)]
• "A likely impossibility is always preferable to an unconvincing possibility." [tr. Bywater (1909)]
• "You should prefer a plausible impossibility to an unconvincing possibility." [tr. Margoliouth (1911)]
• "For poetic effect a convincing impossibility is preferable to that which is unconvincing though possible." [tr. Fyfe (1932)]
• "Probable impossibilities are preferable to implausible possibilities." [tr. Halliwell (1986)]
• "In relation to the needs of the composition, a believable impossibility is preferable to an unbelievable possibility." [tr. Janko (1987)]
• "With respect to the requirement of art, the probable impossible is always preferable to the improbable possible."
• "For the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to an unconvincing possibility."

Poetry implies either a happy gift of nature or a strain of madness. In the one case a man can take the mould of any character; in the other, he is lifted out of his proper self.
[tr. Butcher (1895)]

Poetry is the work for the finely constituted or the hysterical; for the hysterical are impressionable, whereas the finely constituted are liable to outbursts.
[tr. Margoliouth (1911); whiles this seems backward, Margoliouth further explains in his footnote.]

Poetry needs either a sympathetic nature or a madman, the former being impressionable and the latter inspired.
[tr. Fyfe (1932)]

Hence the poetic art belongs either to a naturally gifted person or an insane one, since those of the former sort are easily adaptable and the latter are out of their senses.
[tr. Sachs (2006)]

In order to write tragic poetry, you must be either a genius who can adapt himself to anything, or a madman who lets himself get carried away.
[tr. Kenny (2013)]

Poetry, therefore, is a more philosophical and a higher thing than history: for poetry tends to express the universal, history the particular.
[tr. Butcher (1895)]

Poetry is something more philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements are of the nature rather of universals, whereas those of history are singulars.
[tr. Bywater (1909)]

Poetry is the more scientific and the higher class; for it generalizes rather, whereas history particularizes.
[tr. Margoliouth (1911)]

Poetry is something more scientific and serious than history, because poetry tends to give general truths while history gives particular facts.
[tr. Fyfe (1932)]

Poetry is more philosophical and more serious than history; in fact, poetry speaks more of universals, whereas history of particulars.
[tr. Halliwell (1986)]

Poetry is a more philosophical and more serious thing than history: poetry tends to speak of universals, history of particulars.
[tr. Janko (1987), sec. 3.2.3]

Poetry is more philosophical and more serious than history; poetry tends to speak of universals, history of particulars.
[tr. Janko (1987), sec. 3.2.3]

Poetry is more speculative and more serious business than history: for poetry deals more with universals, history with particulars.
[tr. Whalley (1997)]

Poetry is a more philosophical and more serious thing than history, since poetry speaks more of things that are universal, and history of things that are particular.
[tr. Sachs (2006)]

Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.
[tr. Unknown]