John Hoole

British translator

5 total works indexed

via Crossref · CC0

“My endeavour has been to render the sense of my author as nearly as possible, which could never be done merely by translating his words.”
“The spotless maid is like the blooming roseWhich on its native stem unsullied grows;Where fencing walls the garden-space surround,Nor swains, nor browsing cattle tread the ground.But if some hand the tender stalk invades,Lost is its beauty, and its colour fades:No more the care of heaven, or garden's boast,And all its praise with youths and maidens lost.”
“Love what we see can from our sight remove,And things invisible are seen by Love.”
“Ah! why so rare does cruel Love inspireTwo tender bosoms with a mutual fire?Say, whence, perfidious, dost thou pleasure findTo sow dissension in the human mind?”
“What has that wretched damsel left to boast,What good on earth, whose virtuous praise is lost?”
“So from a water clear, the trembling lightOf Phoebus, or the silver queen of night,Along the spacious rooms with splendour plays,Now high, now low, and shifts a thousand ways.”