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.

He who regards nothing more in his Works than the taste of the Age, has a greater value for his Person than his Writings: He should always aim at Perfection; and tho his Contemporaries refuse him Justice, Posterity will give it him.
[Bullord ed. (1696)]

He who regards nothing more in his Works than the Taste of his own Age, Considers his Person more than his Writings: He should always aim at Perfection, and tho his Contemporaries refuse him Justice, Posterity will give it him.
[Curll ed. (1713)]

He who regards nothing more in his Works than the Taste of the Age, has a greater value for his Person than his Writings: He should always aim at Perfection; and though his Cotempararies refuse him Justice, he will be better used by Posterity.
[Browne ed. (1752)]

He who only writes to suit the taste of the age, considers himself more than his writings. We should always aim at perfection, and then posterity will do us that justice which sometimes our contemporaries refuse.
[tr. Van Laun (1885)]

A Knowledge of Things, without an Ability of expressing them, no more deserves the Name of Eloquence, than a Fluency of Words, join'd to an Ignorance of Things: For my part, were I to take my Choice, I should prefer good Sense, tho' uneloquent, to Nonsense, let it be ever so flowing.
[tr. Guthrie (1755)]

Neither a knowledge of things, without ability to express them, nor a fluency fo words, without ideas, be considered as deserving the name of eloquence: for my part, were I to take my choice, I should prefer good sense, though ineloquent, to nonsense, however flowing.
[Source (1808)]

Neither the ineloquence which cannot impart what it knows, nor the ignorance that is fluent without knowledge, be deemed a subject for commendation; though, if the alternative be unavoidable, I should very much prefer ineloquent information to ignorant loquacity.
[tr. Calvert (1870)]

If have to choose between the two, I would rather have sound common sense without eloquence, than folly with a fine flow of language.
[ed. Harbottle (1906)]

Neither the tongue-tied silence of the man who knows the facts but cannot explain them in language, nor the ignorance of the person who is deficient in facts but has no lack of words, is deserving of praise. And if one had to choose between them, for my part I should prefer wisdom lacking power of expression to talkative folly.
[tr. Rackham (1942)]

No praise is due to the dumbness of the person who has mastered the matter but cannot unfold it in speech, nor, conversely, to the ignorance of the one who does not have the subject matter at his command, but has no lack of words. If we must choose between these alternatives, I myself would prefer inarticulate wisdom to babbling stupidity.
[tr. May/Wisse (2001)]

Your apparel must be shaped according to the fashion of the time, and your calling [...] For we must not take upon us to alter customs at our will. For time doth beget them and time doth also wear them out.
[tr. Peterson (1576)]

Let your dress [...] be conformable to the customs of the age you live in, and suitable to your condition; for it is not in our power to alter the general fashions at our pleasure; which, as they are produced, so they are swallowed up by time.
[tr. Graves (1774)]

For there is a certain Set of such as assume to themselves the name of Philosophers, who are said to have Books enough in Latin, which I do not despise, for I have never read them; but because the Authors profess themselves, that they write neither with distinction of Terms, nor distribution of Parts, nor elegancy of Language, nor any Ornaments; I neglect to give that reading which is no ways delightful
[tr. Wase (1643)]

For there is a farther certain tribe who would willingly be called philosophers, whose books in our language are said to be numerous, which I do not despise, for indeed I never read the: but because the authors themselves declare that they write without any regularity or method, without elegance or ornament: I do not choose to read what is so void of entertainment.
[tr. Main (1824)]

For there is a certain race, who wish to be called philosophers, whose Latin books, indeed, are said to be numerous, which I have no contempt for, really, because I never read them; but, since their authors themselves profess to write without either order or method, ornament or elegance, I neglect a reading which affords me no delight.
[tr. Otis (1839)]

For there is a certain class of them who would willingly be called philosophers, whose books in our language are said to be numerous, and which I do not despise, for indeed I never read them: but still because the authors themselves declare that they write without any regularity, or method, or elegance, or ornament, I do not care to read what must be so void of entertainment.
[tr. Yonge (1853)]

There is, indeed, a certain class of men who want to be called philosophers, who are said to have written many Latin books, which I do not despise, because I have never read them; but inasmuch as their authors profess to write with neither precision, nor system, nor elegance, nor ornament, I omit reading what can give me no pleasure.
[tr. Peabody (1886)]

There is a certain class of authors, who wish to be called philosophers, and who have apparently published many books in Latin. I do not, indeed, condemn them, because I never read them, but because they themselves confess that they have not written their books clearly or in a well-arranged manner, nor elegantly or with any ornament. I avoid the sort of reading which offers no enjoyment.
[tr. @sentantiq (2015)]

There exists a class of men who lay claim to the title of philosophers and are said to be authors of a great many books in Latin. These I personally do not despise, for the reason that I have never read them; but as the writers of these books on their own admission avoid in what they write a systematic approach, due subdivision, correctness, or a polished style. I have no interest in reading what brings no pleasure.
[tr. Davie (2017)]

[909] Philosophy: Why, you Precocious Pederast! You Palpable Pervert!
[910] Sophistry: Pelt me with roses!
[910] Philosophy: You Toadstool! O Cesspool!
[911] Sophistry: Wreath my hairs with lilies!
[911] Philosophy: Why, you Parricide!
[912] Sophistry: Shower me with gold! Look, don't you see I welcome your abuse?
[913] Philosophy: Welcome it, monster? In my day we would have cringed with shame.
[914] Sophistry: Whereas now we're flattered. Times change. The vices of your age are stylish today.

[909] Just Cause: You are debauched and shameless.
[910] Unjust Cause: You have spoken roses of me.
[910] Just Cause: And a dirty lickspittle.
[911] Unjust Cause: You crown me with lilies.
[911] Just Cause: And a parricide.
[912] Unjust Cause: You don't know that you are sprinkling me with gold.
[913] Just Cause: Certainly not so formerly, but with lead.
[914] Unjust Cause: But now this is an ornament to me.

For justice would be to contend with the facts only, so that every thing else beside the mere demonstration is superfluous; nevertheless, it [style] is of great influence, as has been said, owing to the corruption of the hearers.
[Source (1847)]

Our facts ought to be our sole weapons, making everything superfluous which is outside the proof; owing to the infirmities of the hearer, however, style, as we have said, can do much.
[tr. Jebb (1873)]

For justice should consist in fighting the case with the facts alone, so that everything else that is beside demonstration is superfluous; nevertheless, as we have just said, it [style] is of great importance owing to the corruption of the hearer.
[tr. Freese (1926)]

Although [...] in justice, litigants should appeal only to the facts to contest the case, so that everything apart from demonstration is superfluous, it remains the case, as I have aid, that, thanks to the audience's moral weakness, delivery is very effective.
[tr. Waterfield (2018)]

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)]

That eloquence offereth injurie unto things, which altogether drawes us to observe it.
[tr. Florio (1603), ch. 25]

That eloquence prejudices the subject it would advance, that wholly attracts us to itself.
[tr. Cotton (1686), ch. 25; Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

That sort of eloquence which makes us in love with Ourselves, does an injury to the subject it treats of.
[alt. tr. Cotton (1686), ch. 25]

The eloquence that diverts us to itself harms its content.
[tr. Frame (1943)]

When eloquence draws attention to itself it does wrong by the substance of things.
[tr. Screech (1987)]

Of Thyself therefore had I now learned, that neither ought any thing to seem to be spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore falsely, because the utterance of the lips is inharmonious; nor, again, therefore true, because rudely delivered; nor therefore false, because the language is rich; but that wisdom and folly are as wholesome and unwholesome food; and adorned or unadorned phrases as courtly or country vessels; either kind of meats may be served up in either kind of dishes.
[tr. Pusey (1838)]

Of Thyself, therefore, had I now learned that neither ought anything to seem to be spoken truly, because eloquently; nor therefore falsely, because the utterance of the lips is inharmonious; nor, again, therefore true, because rudely delivered; nor therefore false, because the language is rich; but that wisdom and folly are as wholesome and unwholesome food; and adorned or unadorned phrases, as courtly or country vessels: either kind of meats may be served up in either kind of dishes.
[ed. Shedd (1860)]

From Thee, therefore, I had now learned, that because a thing is eloquently expressed, it should not of necessity seem to be true; nor, because uttered with stammering lips, should it be false nor, again, perforce true, because unskillfully delivered; nor consequently untrue, because the language is fine; but that wisdom and folly are as food both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or simple words as town-made or rustic vessels, -- and both kinds of food may be served in either kind of dish.
[tr. Pilkington (1876)]

I had learned, then, from Thee, that neither ought a thing to be regarded as true because it is eloquently uttered, nor on the other hand false because awkwardly expressed; neither is it true because the diction is ungraceful, nor false because clothed in glowing language; but that truth and folly are like wholesome and hurtful food, and language ornate and bald like fine and plain dishes, and either kind of meat may be served in either kind of dish.
[tr. Hutchings (1890)]

Already I had learned from Thee, that nothing ought to seem true because it is well expressed, nor false because the word-symbols are inelegant; yet again, that nothing is true because rudely delivered, nor false because the diction is brilliant; but that wisdom and folly are like meats that are wholesome or unwholesome, and that either kind of meat can be served up in silver or in delf, that is to say, in courtly or in homely phrase.
[tr. Bigg (1897), 5.6.2]

From You then I learned that a thing was not bound to be true because uttered eloquently, nor false because the utterance of the lips is ill-arranged; but that on the other hand a thing is not necessarily true because badly uttered, nor false because spoken magnificently. For it is with wisdom and folly as with wholesome and unwholesome food: just as either kind of food can be served equally well in rich dishes or simple, so plain or beautiful language may clothe either wisdom or folly indifferently.
[tr. Sheed (1943)]

Already, therefore, I had learned from you that nothing should be held true merely be-cause it is eloquently expressed, nor false because its signs sound harsh upon the lips. Again, I learned that a thing is not true because rudely uttered, nor is it false because its utterance is splendid. I learned that wisdom is like wholesome food and folly like unwholesome food: they can be set forth in language ornate or plain, just as both kinds of food can be served on rich dishes or on peasant ware.
[tr. Ryan (1960)]

But in your wonderful, secret way, my God, you had already taught me that a statement is not necessarily true because it is wrapped in fine language or false because it is awkwardly expressed. I believe that it was you who taught me this, because it is the truth and there is no other teacher of the truth besides yourself, no matter how or where it comes to light. You had already taught me this lesson and the converse truth, that an assertion is not necessarily true because it is badly expressed or false because it is finely spoken. I had learnt that wisdom and folly are like different kinds of food. Some are wholesome and others are not, but both can be served equally well on the finest china dish or the meanest earthenware. In just the same way, - wisdom and folly can be clothed alike in plain words or the finest flowers of speech.
[tr. Pine-Coffin (1961)]

I had now learned this from you: that a thing is not necessarily true for being expressed eloquently, nor necessarily false if the sounds made by the lips are imperfectly pronounced; nor, on the other hand, is a thing true simply because it is expressed in a rough and ready way, nor false because it is uttered in a fine style. For with wisdom and folly the same thing holds good as with wholesome and unwholesome food. You can have silver or earthenware dishes on the table, just as you can have a decorated or undecorated use of language; either kind of food can be served in either kind of dish.
[tr. Warner (1963)]

I believe that because you taught me and I had already learned from you that nothing should be deemed truly spoken because it is eloquently spoken, nor false because the indications of the lips are ill-arranged. Conversely, uncouth expression does not make something true, nor polished delivery make truth false. As with wholesome and unwholesome food, so it is with wisdom and folly, and as with adorned and unadorned language, so good food and bad can be served up in elegant or rustic dishes.
[tr. Blaiklock (1983)]