Nicolas Boileau

The Art of Poetry

THE ART OF POETRY
FIRST SONG
It is in vain that Parnassus a bold author, Think of the art to be as tall if do
es not feel the secret influence of heaven if his star being born not trained po
et, in his genius narrow it is still captive to him Phoebus is deaf, and Pegasus
is restive. Ye therefore, who, burning with zeal perilous Run wit the thorny ca
reer, Do not go on fruitlessly to consume you, nor take a genius for love of rhy
ming, Fear of an empty pleasure misleading primers And please mind your long and
strengths. The nature, rich in excellent spirits, Sait between authors share th
e talents: One can draw a flame of love in verse, the other a nice feature to wh
et the epigram: Malherbe can boast of a hero's exploits; Racan, Phyllis sing, sh
epherds and wood But often a mind that flatters and misunderstands his genius an
d loves ignorant yourself:
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Nicolas Boileau
So as we once lived with his Faret charcoal to the walls of a tavern Goes, untim
ely, an insolent voice singing "of the Jewish people to flight triumphant, And p
ursuing Moses through the desert , Short with Pharaoh drown in the sea. Whatever
subject we deal, or pleasant or sublime, Always the right direction consistent
with the rhyme: One of the other vain they seem to hate; The rhyme is a slave an
d must obey. Where, though it strives to seek first, the mind gets used to easil
y find, the yoke of reason without penalty and it bends away from the annoying,
the serves and enriches it. But when neglected, it becomes rebelleb; And to catc
h the meaning runs after her. Love is the reason that your writings always Borro
w only to her and their luster and their prices. Most carried a senseless passio
n, always from the right direction get their thinking: They would think fall, mo
nstrous in their verse, If they thought that another could think like them. Avoi
d these excesses to leave Italy Of all these dazzling rhinestones the madness. A
ll should strive for common sense: but to achieve the path is slippery and hard
to keep; -4 -
THE ART OF POETRY
For some it departs immediately drown. The reason often has to walk a path. An a
uthor sometimes too full of his subject never gives up without exhausting the su
bject. If he meets a palace, it depicts the face myself, I walked from terrace a
fter terrace here offers a porch, there reigns a corridor, locked up in the balc
ony Once a gold baluster. It has ceilings circles and ovals, "These are only fes
toons, they are qu'astragales. "I jumped twenty pages to find the end And I'll r
un just through the garden. Flee from these authors abundance sterile, and do no
t charge a point of excessive detail. Everything they say is too bland and unatt
ractive; spirit satisfied rejects instantly. Who knows simply never learned to w
rite. Often the fear of evil leads us into a worse: A line was too low and you m
ake it hard I try not to be long, and I become obscure; One is not too cutthroat
, but its muse is too bare; The other is afraid to crawl, he gets lost in the cl
ouds. Do you want the public deserve the love? Constantly vary your writing spee
ches. A style too equal and uniform in vain still shines in our eyes, we must pu
t to sleep.
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Nicolas Boileau
We read little these authors, born to bother us, who always appear on your chant
ing. Happy who in his verses, knows a soft voice Go from grave to gay, from live
ly to severe! Her book, loved and cherished by readers sky, is often surrounded
at Barbin buyers. Whatever you write, avoid meanness: The style has the least no
ble yet its nobility. In defiance of common sense, brazen burlesque Trompa eyes
first, pleased by its novelty. We no longer live in that points toward trivial;
Parnassus spoke the language of the halls; The license to rhyme then ran out of
brake Apollo became a transvestite Tabarin. This contagion was infected province
s, and the bourgeois From cleric went unto the princes. The most practical joker
had his approbation; And up to Assouci, found all readers. But this style court
finally disabused of such disdain towards extravagance easy, distinguishes the
main course and ingenuous buffoon And left the province enjoy the Typhoon. Wheth
er this style never breath your work. Marot imitate the elegant banter, and let
the pleasant burlesque of the Pont Neuf. But do not also, on the steps of Brebeu
f, -6 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Even a Pharsalia, piling on the banks "From one hundred dead and dying mountain
plaintively. "Take your best tone. Be simple with art, Sublime without pride, pl
easant unvarnished. Do not offer anything to the reader that what may please him
. Have an ear for the cadence severe: As always your meaning to, cutting words,
suspend the half-line, marks the rest. Keep a vowel to run Do not be too hasty o
f a vowel in its path encountered. It is a happy choice of words harmonious. Fle
e the evil contest sounds odious to the best filled, the noblest thoughts Do som
ething for the mind, when the ear is injured. During the first years of Parnassu
s françois, Caprice was alone all the laws. The rhyme at the end of words togeth
er without measure, Held place ornaments, numbers and hyphenation. Villon knew t
he first, in these centuries coarse Unfog art confused our old novelists. Marot
was soon after flowering ballads, Tourna triplets, rima masquerades, A set of tu
nes and enslaves the roundels showed to rhyme all new roads. Ronsard, who follow
ed him, by another method, adjusted everything, everything fell out, made an art
in its own way,
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Nicolas Boileau
And however long had a happy fate. But his muse, French speaking Greek and Latin
Lives in the next age, by a return grotesque words fall from his great pomp ped
antic. This poet proud blundered so high, Rendered more successful Desportes and
Bertaut. Finally Matherbe came, and the first in France, felt in the Fit to a f
air pace, with one word being taught to his place, and reduced the muse rules of
duty. In this wise writer repaired language no longer offers anything harsh to
the ear of purified. The stanzas learned to fall gracefully, and the verses on t
he span did not dare to. All knew his laws, and this faithful guide, authors thi
s time is still a model. Walk his steps, like his purity, and his happy turn imi
tate the clarity. If the meaning of your poems soon to be heard, My mind immedia
tely begins to relax; And your empty words ready to come off, do not read an aut
hor that is sought. There are certain minds whose sombrespensées Have a thick cl
oud always embarrassed and the day of reason can not penetrate. Before writing s
o that learning to think. -8 -
THE ART OF POETRY
According to our idea is more or less obscure, the following expression, or blur
red, or purer. What is conceived well is clearly stated, and the words to say it
come easily. Especially in your writings in your language revered greatest exce
sses you will always be sacred. In vain you hit me with a melodious, if the term
is improper or vicious lap My mind does not admit a pompous barbarism, nor a so
lecism to the arrogant turgid. Without language, in a word, the author is always
the most divine, whatever he does, a bad writer. Work at your leisure, whatever
 order you press, and do not prick the point of a crazy speed: A style so fast,
and runs in rhyme, Make least too clever little trial, I prefer a stream on the
soft arena, in a meadow full of flowers slowly walks That a flowing stream which
, during a storm, Rolls, full of gravel, on a muddy ground. Make haste slowly, a
nd without losing courage, twenty times on the job or return your book: Buff it
constantly and re-polished; sometimes add, delete and often. It's just that one
book where mistakes abound Some witticisms sown occasionally sparkle.
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Nicolas Boileau
We need every thing to be put in place; That first meeting at the end Milieus; W
hat a delicate art pieces form a single bound Is any of various parties, what ev
er the subject's speech don not deviate too far from any search word brilliant.
Do you fear for your verses public censure? Be sure to yourself a severe critic.
Ignorance is always ready to admire. Do you make friends quick to criticize you
, they are confidants of your writing sincere, And all your faults zealous oppon
ents Strip before them the arrogance to author, but know the friend discern the
flatterer. As you seem to applaud you and mocks you play. Do we advise you, and
not let you so. A flattering immediately tries to exclaim Each verse refers to t
he fact that MTI. Everything is lovely, divine, no word hurts, He jumped for joy
, he weeps with tenderness It fills you lavish praise everywhere. The truth has
not the air rushing.€A wise friend, always strict, inflexible, not on your mista
kes leaves you quiet: He does not forgive places neglected, II refers to the wro
ng place arranged, - 10 -
THE ART OF POETRY
It represses the ambitious words emphasis, here meaning the shock, and further i
t is the sentence. Your build seems a bit riskier, this term is ambiguous it mus
t be clarified. So you speak a true friend. But often an author to his uncomprom
ising To protect every person thinks, and first took over the right of the offen
ded. "From this verse, you say, the expression is low. - Ah sir, for your mercy
towards me, Will meet there first. - This word seems cold, I cut him off. - It's
the most beautiful place! - This tour does not suit me. - Everyone admires. "Th
us always constant does not retract, That word in his work has appeared hurt you
, is a title with him in order not to erase it. However, to hear, he cherishes t
he critics on his verse You despotic power. But all these fine speeches which he
has just flatter you Is nothing but a clever trap for you to recite. As soon as
you leave, and, pleased with his muse, Goes to look elsewhere for some fat he a
buses, often because it is: only fools and authors, our century is replete with
foolish admirers, and, without those provided by the city and province, it is th
e Duke, he is at the prince.
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Nicolas Boileau
The book was the thinnest among the courtiers, Historically met zealous partisan
s And, finally ending with a dash of satire, A fool always finds a bigger fool t
o admire him.
- 12 -
THE ART OF POETRY
CANTO II
Such a shepherdess, the most beautiful day of celebration, Beautiful ruby load p
oint his head, and, without mingling with the golden glow of the diamonds, men g
ather in a field near his best ornaments: Such, lovable his air, but humble in h
is style. Should an elegant pump burst without romance. Turn simple and naive no
thing ostentatious pride And do not like a verse presumptuous. Let her sweetness
flatter, tickle, awakens, And never big words n'épouvante ear, but often in thi
s style Throw a rhymer at bay there, despite the flute and oboe, And, wildly pom
pous in indiscreet verve, the middle of a eulogy trumpet intones. For fear of li
stening Pan flies in the reeds, And the Nymphs, terror, hide under the water. On
the other hand, abject in its language, its orchards Manufactured speak as one
speaks to the village. The flatworms and coarse, stripped of accreditation, Alwa
ys kiss the ground and crawl sadly
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Nicolas Boileau
Looks like Ronsard, its rustic flutes, Just still humming his Gothic romances, a
nd change, without respect to the ear and sound, Lycidas as Pierrot, and Phyllis
in Toinon. Between these two extremes the road is difficult. Follow to find it,
Theocritus and Virgil: That their soft writings, dictated by the Graces, Do not
leave your hands, day and night puff. Alone in to their learned, they can teach
you what art without vulgarity For an author can get, Singing Plant, fields, Po
mona Orchards; At the battle of the flute run two shepherds Pleasures of love th
e sweet praise primer; Change Narcissus flower, Daphne bark cover, and by what a
rt the eclogue sometimes still worthy of a consul Makes the countryside and wood
s. This is the poem and the strength and grace. In a tone a little higher, yet w
ithout daring, The plaintive elegy, in long mourning, Salt, disheveled hair, moa
ning on a coffin. She paints the lovers' joy and sadness; Platte, threat, irrita
tes, soothes a mistress. But in order to express the vagaries happy, is unlikely
to be a poet, it must be love. I hate these vain authors whose muse tells me it
s fire forced, always cold and icy - 14 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Who are afflicted by art, and crazy sound sense, set themselves up to rhyme with
love frozen. Their sweetest transports are only empty words: They never know th
at is in chains, That bless their martyrdom, worship their prison, and to quarre
l with the senses and reason. It was not long ago on your ridiculous Love dictat
ed the verses sighed Tibullus, or that the tender Ovid animating the sweet sound
s, he gave his art the charming lessons. It is only the heart speaks in the eleg
y. The ode, more strikingly, not less energy, Raising his flight to heaven ambit
ious to Maintain its trade with the gods. For athletes in Pisa she opens the gat
e,€Sing a winner at the end of the dusty career Achilles Leads the bloody banks
of Simois Or Scheldt flexes under the yoke of Louis, Sometimes, burning like a b
ee at work, she goes flower rob the bank : She painted the feasting, dancing and
laughing, picked Boasts a kiss on the lips of Iris, who feebly resisted, and, b
y a sweet caprice, sometimes refuses to snatch the one. His impetuous style, oft
en random walk: At a beautiful mess it is an effect of art.
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Nicolas Boileau
Far from these fearful rhymers whose spirit phlegmatic Guard in its fury a didac
tic; Who sang a hero progress brilliant, Skinny historians, will follow the orde
r of time. They dare not lose a moment about Dole To view, Lille must be made, A
nd to their right, and Mezerai, Ait already brought down the ramparts of Kortrij
k. Apollo's Fire was always their stingy. It is said in this connection, one day
this strange god, Hoping to push to end all rhymers françois, Inventa the stric
t laws of the sonnet, Wished that two quatrains Rhyme similar measure two knock
sounds eight times the ear, and then to six artistically arranged in two triplet
s were the shared meaning. Especially in this poem he banished the license: Hims
elf measured the number and cadence to a low defended it might never come, Nor a
word already ventured there remonstrate. Moreover, he enriches supreme beauty:
A faultless sonnet is one long poem. But in vain miles authors believe come, and
 that phoenix is still happy to find. Just in Gombaut, Maynard and Malleville In
can you see two or three miles between: - 16 -
THE ART OF POETRY
The rest, as little as read Pelletier, Has made a jump in Sercy the grocer. To c
onfine its meaning prescribed in the terminal, the measure is still too long or
too small. The epigram, freer in turn more limited, Is often a good two word rhy
mes decorated. Once the tips of our authors ignored Were Italy in our verse attr
acted. The vulgar, dazzled by their false certification, to this new bait ran ea
gerly. The public favor exciting their audacity, their number impetuous flood Pa
rnassus. The madrigal was first wrapped; The sonnet pride himself was struck; Th
e tragedy was his dearest delight, the painful elegy adorned his whims A hero on
the scene took care of them deal, And without pointing a lover dared sigh: We s
aw all the shepherds in their new complaints, Faithful to the point that their s
till more beautiful; Each word was always two different faces: the prose as well
as received verse counsel bristled at the Palace in his style, and the doctor s
owed the Gospel pulpit. The reason outraged finally opened his eyes, the ever dr
ove for serious discourse;
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Nicolas Boileau
And in all these writings the infamous saying, By the grace allowed him entry in
to the epigram, Provided finesse, brilliant fit, Roulat on thought and not words
. Thus everywhere disorders ceased. But the court stayed the Turlupins, tasteles
s pleasant, clowns unfortunate, one coarse pun supporters outdated. This is some
times not a muse a bit thin on a passing play and do not switch, and a sense of
abusing successfully diverted, But fly over this ridiculous excess, And do not a
lways with a touch frivolous Sharpen the tail of an epigram madness. Every poem
is brilliant on its own beauty. The rondeau, born Gallic was naive. The ballad,
enslaved to the old maxims, often owes much of its luster to the whim of rhymes.
The madrigal, simpler and more noble in turn, breathe the sweetness, tenderness
and love. The zeal to show, not to slander, the truth of Arma to satire. Lucile
first ventured to see, For the vices of the Romans introduced the mirror, aveng
ed the humble virtue of the richness haughty, and the honest man to walk the pup
py in a litter. - 18 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Horace the bitterness mingled her playfulness: There was neither fat nor stupid
with impunity, and woe to any domain name that is uniquely censorship, Put into
a verse without breaking far! Persia, to its obscure, but tightly and pressing,
pretended to enclose fewer words than sense. Juvenal, in the cries of high schoo
l, Poussa to excess biting his hyperbole. Her works, all full of ugly truths, ye
t sublime beauties sparkle: Either on a writing came to Capri, He broke the stat
ue of Sejanus adored Whether he makes the board run the senators,€From a suspici
ous tyrant pale flatterers; Or that the lust after pushing Latin porters In Rome
he sells Messalina, his writings fiery glow around the eyes. From these masters
learned disciple ingenious, Regnier one of us trained in their model, in its ol
d style still has new graces. Happy if his speech, the chaste feared player, do
feel the places where the author attended, and if, his bold rhymes cynical n'ala
rmait He often modest ears! The Latin words in the brave honesty, but the French
player wants to be respected;
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Nicolas Boileau
Any sense of freedom foul contempt, shame if the words do soften the image. I wa
nt in a satirical spirit of candor, and am a cheeky preaches modesty. With a str
oke of good words in this poem so rich, the French, born evil, formed a vaudevil
le Pleasant indiscreet, who led the singing, Pass word of mouth and increased wa
lk. French liberty in his verse unfolds This child of pleasure is born in joy. B
ut do not, mocking hazardous Make God a joke about ugly. At the end all these ga
mes, that atheism student, sadly lead enjoyable to strike. It must, even in song
s, good sense and art: But still we saw the wine and chance sometimes inspire a
muse And crude supply, without genius, in a couplet Linière. But an empty happin
ess that you did rhyme, Keep a foolish pride do you come smoke. Often the proud
author of a song at the same moment is right to believe himself a poet: He will
not sleep more than he has made a sonnet, it is every morning at six impromptu n
et. Yet is it a miracle, its waves Furies, If soon, printing their silly daydrea
ms - 20 -
THE ART OF POETRY
It is engraved in front of the collection, crowned with laurel, by the hand of N
anteuil.
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Nicolas Boileau
- 22 -
THE ART OF POETRY
CANTO III
There is no snake, or hateful monster, who, by imitating art, may not please the
eye: one brush delicate artifice Most pleasing object is an object frightful ki
nd. Thus to charm us, the tragedy Oedipus OF bloody tears, caused the pain, D'Or
este parricide expressed alarms, And to entertain us, we drew tears. You therefo
re that a noble fire in the theater-loving, pompous to Come to dispute the prize
, would you spread on the stage where everything works in Paris crowd makes its
votes, and who, still more beautiful, they Let be viewed after twenty years stil
l requested again? That in all your words of passion moved Aille seek the heart,
warms and stirs. If a fine movement of the pleasant fury not often fills us wit
h a fresh terror in our soul or excite pity charming, In vain you spread a scene
learned:
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Nicolas Boileau
Your cold reasoning will not always lazy qu'attiédir An audience applause, and w
ho, the vain efforts of your rhetoric Just tired, falls asleep or criticizing yo
u. The secret is to first please and touch: Invent springs that can attach mysel
f. That from the first into action Without pain of the subject prepared overcome
s the entry. I laugh at an actor, slow to speak, Of what he wants first to infor
m me not known, and that a painful unraveling evil plot, one entertainment makes
me fatigue. I'd rather he still déclinât his name and said: "I am Orestes, or A
gamenmon" Than go through a bunch of confused wonder, with nothing to say to the
spirit, stunning ears: The subject is never quite explained earlier. That the p
lace of the stage to be fixed and marked. A rhymer, without risk, beyond the Pyr
enees on stage one day contains the years: There is often the hero of a play rou
gh, Children in the first act is the last big bluestem. But we, as a result of i
ts rules commitments, we want the action with art household; What a place, that
one day, one fait accompli Yours until the end filled the theater. - 24 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Not the audience do not offer anything beyond belief: The truth can sometimes be
 unlikely. A perfectly absurd for me is without charms: The mind is not moved by
what he does not believe. What we must not see, a story we put it: The eyes in
seeing better seize the thing; But there are things that sound art have to offer
back to the ear and eye. That disorder, increasing from stage to stage, A is do
ing its height reached without difficulty.€The spirit is not felt more deeply im
pressed when, What a story of intrigue enveloped one secret suddenly the truth k
nown Change everything, gives everything a face unexpected. The tragedy, inform
and gross birth, Was just a chorus, where everybody's dancing and singing God's
praises of grapes, trying to attract fertile harvest. Here, wine and instilling
the joy, the most skilful singer a goat was the prize. Thespis was the first who
smeared links, went around the village this happy madness and evil actors loadi
ng a cart adorned, amused passers-by a show again. Aeschylus in the choir threw
the characters, one dressed mask more honest faces,
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Nicolas Boileau
On the boards of a theater audience uplifted, the actor Fit seem a boot floor, S
ophocles finally give vent to his genius, still further increased the pump, incr
eased harmony, involving the chorus throughout the Action, worms too rough polis
hed expression, He gave the Greeks the divine heights never attained Where weakn
ess Latin. In our pious ancestors theater éabhorré Was a long time in France a p
leasure ignored. As pilgrims, they say, a rude in public gang in Paris went up f
irst; And, foolishly zealous in its simplicity, Played the saints, the Virgin an
d God through piety. Knowledge, in the end, dispelling ignorance, Fit to see thi
s project the devout recklessness. We drove these doctors without preaching miss
ion was seen revive Hector, Andromache, Ilion. But the players leaving the antiq
ue mask, took the place of the violin and choir music. Soon love. fertile tender
feelings, took the drama and novels. This passion is sensitive paint to go to h
eart the safest route. Paint So, I agree, love the heroes, but do not train me s
hepherds sweet: - 26 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Achilles loves differently and that Thyrsis Philene; Do not we make a Cyrus Arta
mene; And that love, remorse often fought, seemed like a weakness and not a virt
ue. Heroes novel flee the pettiness: But to give some big hearts weaknesses. Ach
illes displease less hot and less prone: I like to see him shed tears as a disgr
ace. At these small defects scored in his painting, The Spirit acknowledges with
pleasure the kind. Whether this model in your writing path / Agamemnon is proud
, proud, interested, his gods for what Aeneas has respect austere. Keep each his
own character. For centuries, countries are studying the habits: The climates a
re often different moods. So keep giving, and in Clelia, air or the French spiri
t of ancient Italy and, in doing our names Roman Portrait Painting gallant Cato,
and Brutus dameret. In a novel it easy to frivolous excuses; is fairly common i
n fiction amuses; too strict, so was out of season: But the scene requires an ex
act reason it's close decency wants to be kept. To invent a new character do you
agree?
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Nicolas Boileau
What with everything he himself appears to agree, and that until the end as we h
ave seen first. Often, without thinking, a writer who loves all his characters f
orm similar to ourselves: All al'humeur Gascon Gascon in an author; Calprenede j
ubata and speak the same tone. Nature is in us more diverse and wiser every pass
ion speaks a different language: Anger is beautiful and wants lofty words, the r
eduction is explained in terms of less proud. What to Troy Hecuba sorry flame Do
not come to push a complaint bombastic, Nor without reason in describing what a
terrible country by seven mouths of the Tanais receives the Black Sea. All thes
e clusters pompous frivolous expressions are a ranter love words. It is in pain
that you behave. To me from crying, you must weep. These big words, so that the
player fills her mouth Do not leave for a heart that affects its misery. The the
ater, full of censors picky with us to produce a field is dangerous. An author d
oes not make easy conquests, it is to whistle mouths always ready. Everyone can
handle fat and ignorant is a right at the door buys you entered. - 28 -
THE ART OF POETRY
It is essential that in a hundred ways to please, it folds, That he sometimes ri
ses and sometimes humiliated; What noble sentiments, he is everywhere fertile, i
t is easy, solid, nice, deep, That features amazing we ever wake up;€It runs in
his verse from one marvel, And that everything he says, easy to remember, from h
is book leaves us in a long memory. Thus the tragedy acts, walks and explained.
With an air still more epic poetry, in the vast story of a long acting Se suppor
ts the fable and fiction lives. There to delight us all is brought into use; Eve
rything takes a body, a soul, a spirit, a face. Each virtue becomes a deity Mine
rva is prudence, and Venus beauty. This product is no longer the vapeurqui thund
er, Jupiter is armed to terrify the earth; a terrible storm in the eyes of the s
ailors, Neptune is angry that the greedy waves, Echo is not a sound in the air r
esound, is a nymph in tears complaining of Narcissus. Thus, in this noble pile o
f fiction, the poet s'égaye a thousand inventions, Orne, student, embellishes, e
nlarge all things, And his hand beneath the flowers still bloom.
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Nicolas Boileau
Aeneas and his ships, with the wind apart, Let the edges of an African storm was
hed away, this is a common and ordinary adventure, That blow somewhat surprising
features of fortune. But Juno, his aversion constant, Continue on the waves rem
ains of Troy; Qu'éole in his favor, driving in Italy Opens mutinous winds prison
s Eolia; That angry Neptune 's raising the sea, One word calm the waves, put pea
ce in the air, deliver the vessels, the Syrtes hard, there is what is surprising
hit, grabbed, attached. Without all the ornaments to fall into languor, Poetry
is dead or ramp without force, the poet is no longer a timid speaker, historian
That cold insipid fable. So it is in vain that our authors disappointed Banishin
g these ornaments to their receipts, to act Believe God, his saints and prophets
, like the gods of hatched cerveaudes poets make every step the reader to hell,
do qu'Astaroth nothing, Beelzebub, Lucifer. In the faith of a Christian On the t
errible mysteries ornaments are not likely brightened. The Gospel in mind What d
oes all sides to do penance and deserved torment - 30 -
THE ART OF POETRY
And your mixing fiction guilty Even truths gives the air of romance. And finally
, any object present in the eyes The devil always shouting against the heavens,
Who is your hero belittle the glory, And often balance with God's victory! Tasso
, it will be said, has done successfully. I do not want him to trial here: But,
whatever our age to publish his glory, He would not have his picture book of Ita
ly, if his wise hero, always in prayer, had not brought that last Satan to reaso
n And if Renaud Argantes Tancred and his mistress Had it not amused about his sa
dness. Not that I agree, in a Christian subject, an author and wildly pagan idol
atry. But in a secular painting and smiling, from daring to use the figure of fa
ble, To chase the Tritons of the empire of the waters On deprive the Pan flute,
Fates their scissors; To prevent that Caron, in fatal boat, As the shepherd goes
the monarch is a vain scruple foolishly alarmed, and will appeal to readers wit
hout approval. Soon they will defend to paint Prudence, Themis To give apron or
any balance,
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Nicolas Boileau
In the eyes appear War in front of brass, or Time, which ran a clock in his hand
And everywhere discourse as a form of idolatry, in their mistaken zeal go hunti
ng allegory. Let them applaud their pious error, however, for us, banish a vain
terror, And fabuleuxls Christians are not going to, in our dreams, the God of tr
uth make a god of lies. The Legend offers the mind a thousand various amenities:
There seem happy all the names for babies worms, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Orestes, I
domeneo, Helen, Menelaus, Paris, Hector, Aeneas. Oh the fun project of a poet ig
norant of so many heroes who will choose Childebrand! With one name sometimes it
s hard or strange Makes a whole poem or comic or brutal. Do you long to please a
nd never tired? Please choose a hero to clean my interest, Worth bright, beautif
ul virtues In him, to the defects, everything shows heroic What's surprising fac
ts are worthy of ouis; Whether such Caesar, Alexander and Louis, Not as Polynice
s and his treacherous brother are bored with the exploits of a vulgar conqueror.
Do not offer a point about incidents overloaded. The only anger of Achilles, ar
tfully arranged, - 32 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Thoroughly fills a whole Iliad: too often impoverishes material abundance. Be ke
en and eager in your narratives; Be rich and pompous in your descriptions. This
is where he needed to spread the elegance Do not submit low circumstance. Do not
imitate that fool who, describing the seas, and painting, surrounded by their y
awning waves, The Hebrew saved from the yoke of his unjust masters, Met, to see
him pass, the fish at the windows painted the small child who will, jump, back,
"And happy to offer his mother a pebble he holds. "Way too vain objects is to st
op. Give your book a fair extent. That beginning is simple and has nothing affec
ted. Do not go from the first, mounted on Pegasus, Shouting to your readers, a v
oice of thunder: I sing the winner of the winners of the earth. "That will produ
ce the author after all these cries? The mountain in labor gives birth to a mous
e. Oh I like much better this author full address who, without first making such
high promise, told me in a tone of easy, sweet, simple, harmonious, "I sing thi
s fighting and pious man who, of Phrygian leading edges in Ausonia, The first ap
proached the fields of Lavinia! "
- 33 -
Nicolas Boileau
His muse does not arrive on fire, And to give a lot, not promises little, soon y
ou will see, providing the miracles, From Latin to pronounce the fate of the ora
cles, from Styx and Acheron black paint torrents And already the Caesars in the
Elysee stray. Innumerable figures brighten your work, what makes everything in t
he eyes a smiling picture: We can be both pleasant and pompous, and I hate a sub
lime boring and heavy. I prefer Ariosto's comic fable That these authors always
cold and melancholy who in their dark humor to insult would feel if the Graces n
ever cheer their forehead. It seems to please, taught by nature, Homer has stole
n his belt to Venus. His book is a rich treasure of amenities: Everything he tou
ches turns into gold, all received in its hands a new grace Everywhere he entert
ained and never bored. A successful heat animates his speech: It does not get lo
st in too long detours. Without her to keep it in a methodical order, Its about
yourself and arranged and explained, all without making preparations, getting re
ady quickly; Every verse, every word, runs the event. - 34 -
THE ART OF POETRY
So love his writings, but a sincere love: It is taking advantage of that knowing
how to please. An excellent poem, where everything started and after, Is not th
is work produced a whim: It requires time, care, and it never painful work of a
schoolboy was learning. But often a poet among us without art, which a good fire
 sometimes inflamed by chance, he swelled with pride his mind a vain chimera, pr
oudly takes up the trumpet heroic His muse deranged vagrants in his verses, Do r
ises never by leaps and bounds: And the fire, meaningless and reading at every s
tep Goes lack of food. But in vain the public, quick to despise, To merit wants
disabuse false; Himself, applauding his lean engineering, Is given by his hands
that he denies the incense: Virgil, the price of it, has no invention; Homer doe
s not understand the noble fiction. If this ruling against the rebels century, p
osterity At first he called. But here until the good sense to return his works R
eturns triumphant day, their job, the store, hidden in the light, sadly Fights w
orms and dust.
- 35 -
Nicolas Boileau
Let them be them in fenced off, and, without losing our way, follow our words. T
he fortunate success of the tragic spectacle of comedy was born in ancient Athen
s. Here the Greek, born mocking per thousand games pleasant Distilla the venom o
f his face haters. To access an insolent comic joy wisdom, spirit, honor were ex
periencing. We live by the public poet confessed grow rich at the expense of mer
it played, and by Socrates himself, in a chorus of clouds, one base of clusters
attract people booing. Finally we checked the license course: The magistrate law
s borrowed relief, And by making the wisest poets edict, forbade mark the names
and faces. The theater lost its former fury Comedy learned to laugh without bitt
erness, without rancor and without venom was able to investigate and take, And i
nnocently pleased in the verses of Menander. Each painted with art in this new m
irror, Getting saw with pleasure, or thought you not to see: The Miser, first,€l
aughed one of the true picture miser often drawn on his model; And a thousand ti
mes a fool mistook finely expressed on the portrait itself formed. - 36 -
THE ART OF POETRY
What is your nature so unique study, the authors who claim to honor the comic. A
nyone can clearly see the man, and a deep spirit, of so many hearts hidden enter
ed the bottom; Who knows what a prodigal, a miser, an honest man, a fop, a jealo
us a strange, happy on a stage, it can spread, And make us live, act and speak.
Present in over images naive; Everyone should be painted the most vivid colors.
The nature, rich in bizarre portraits, in every soul is marked with different fe
atures; A gesture is discovered, no one makes it seem: But did not mind my eyes
to know. Time changes everything also changes our moods: Every age has its pleas
ures, his mind and manners. A young man, still boiling in his whims, is ready to
receive the impression of vices is vain in his discourse, fickle in their desir
es, Retif censorship and crazy in the fun. The manhood, more mature, wiser inspi
red air, It grows with the great, intrigue, spares himself, against the blows of
fate to remain a dream, And far in this look at the future. The old hurts const
antly raises; Guard, not for itself, the treasures it heaps,
- 37 -
Nicolas Boileau
Walk into his designs with a slow and icy this always complains and praises the
past Unskilled pleasures which youth abuse, Blame the sweetness in them that age
denied. Do your actors to speak at random, an old man a young man, a young man
an old man. Study the court and know the city: The one and the other models is s
till fertile. That's where Molière, illustrating his writings Perhaps his art wo
uld have won, if less people's friend, learned in his paintings he had not made
his figures often wince, Left for the Jester The pleasant and fine, and without
shame Terence ally Tabarin. In this ridiculous bag which Scapin wraps, I do not
recognize the author of Le Misanthrope. The comedy, enemy of sighs and tears, Re
jects point in his poems of tragic pain, But her job is not to go to a place Fro
m dirty words and charmed the crowd below. It must have players badinent nobly T
hat the knot comes undone easily trained; That action, which reason the walking
guide, Do not get lost in an empty stage; That style is gentle and humble about
himself;
That
his speeches across fertile jokes, - 38 -
THE ART OF POETRY
Are full of passion finely handled, and the scenes still related to each other.
At the expense of common sense keep joking: Not the kind we must depart. Behold
what manner of a father of a son Terence Just love scold the imprudence In what
manner the lover listens to his lessons, and ran to her mistress forget these so
ngs. This is not a portrait, a similar image, is a lover, a son, a real father.
I love the theater an enjoyable author who, without defaming the eyes of the vie
wer, pleasure by reason alone, and never the shock. But for a nice fake to gross
misunderstandings, who has entertained me for the dirt, let him go if he wants,
mounted on two sawhorses, Funny Pont Neuf its bland nonsense, To assembled his
lackeys play charades.
- 39 -
Nicolas Boileau
- 40 -
THE ART OF POETRY
CANTO IV
In Florence once lived a doctor Savant boastful, they say, and famous murderer.
He only made it public the long misery There the orphaned son asked her father,
brother cry Here a brother poisoned. One dies empty of blood, the other full of
senna; Hay at his appearance changes into pleurisy, and through him the headache
was soon frenzy. He finally left the city, everywhere detested. Of all his frie
nds dead one friend left the house leads her superb structure: It was a rich abb
ot, crazy architecture. The doctor at first seems born in this art, already spea
ks of buildings as Mansart: From a student lounge that he condemns the face, the
dark hall there is another place Approves the stairs turned the other way. His
friend sees it, and demand his mason. The mason is, listen, approve and corrects
himself. Lastly to shorten such a pleasant prodigy
- 41 -
Nicolas Boileau
Our assassin renounces his art inhuman; And now the rule and square hand, Leavin
g Science suspicious Galen, De bad doctor is good architect. His example is our
excellent precept.€Instead, be a mason, if your talent, an art worker felt neces
sary, a writer and poet of the common vulgar. It is in any other art in differen
t degrees, can fill with honor the second row, But in the dangerous art of rhymi
ng and writing, it is no degrees from mediocre to worse, Who said cold hateful w
riter says author. Boyer Pinchen is equal to the reader can not read much more R
ampal Mesnardiere That Magnon of Desire, Corbin and La Morliere. A fool at least
we can laugh and cheer, But a cold writer knows nothing annoying. I prefer bold
Bergerac and his burlesque verses where Motin That would kill us and ice. Not d
runk flattering praise, sometimes vain That pile fans gives you the low, quick t
o cry out wonderfully! This is supported in writing reciting the ear, Who, in th
e printing openly showing themselves, do not support the penetrating eyes. - 42
-
THE ART OF POETRY
We know a hundred writers and tragic adventure Gombaut still keeps both praised
the shop. Listen everybody, hardworking consultant. A fool sometimes opens an im
portant notice. Some, however, to Apollo inspires you, In all places at once doe
s not run the play. Beware of imitating this furious rhymer Who's futile drive m
essages harmonious, reciting Addresses And whoever welcomes its continuing to pa
ssersby in the street. He is so holy temple, angels met, Who is against his muse
a place of safety. I've already said, that you like censorship, and, responsive
to reason, correct without a murmur. But do not make a fool of you again soon.
Often a subtle pride in his ignorance by unjust vexations fight a piece of censu
re to the finest noble boldness. It is useless to refute his arguments in vain:
His mind takes pleasure in his false judgments, and his weak reason, lacks clari
ty, Think nothing escapes her feeble sight. His advice is to be feared, and if y
ou believe, Thinking escape a trap, often you drown. Please choose a censor stro
ng and healthy, Let reason and knowledge lead illuminates
- 43 -
Nicolas Boileau
And whose pencil sure go and get the first place that you feel weak, and we want
to hide. He alone will clear your doubts ridiculous, Your spirit will lift trem
bling scruples. He will tell you by what transport Sometimes happy in his race a
strong mind, too constricted by art, leaves the prescribed rules, and the art i
tself learns to overcome their limitations. But this is rarely perfect censor Te
l excels rhyming judge who foolishly; This has been distinguished by his poetry
in the city who has never distinguished Virgil Lucan. Authors, listen to my inst
ructions. Do you love your rich fiction? What lessons learned your muse fertile
everywhere join in the fun sound and useful. A wise player flees idle amusement
and wants to leverage its entertainment. Let your soul and your manners, painted
in your books, do not you that noble image. I can not estimate how dangerous th
ese authors who honor, verse, infamous deserters, Betraying the virtue guilty on
paper, the eyes of their readers make the amiable vice. I am not yet of those s
ad spirits who, banishing all chaste love of writing - 44 -
THE ART OF POETRY
From a rich ornament want to deprive the scene, Treat poisoners and Rodrigue and
Chimene. Love the least honest, modestly expressed, does not excite us ashamed
movements. Dido has just groan and go on, and its charms, I condemn his guilt by
sharing her tears. An author virtuous, innocent in his verses, Do not corrupt t
he heart, tickling the senses: His fire kindles flame point of criminal. So love
of virtue, then feed your soul. In vain the mind is full of a noble force still
feels towards the baseness of the heart. Fly above, flee these low blinds, The
malignant spirits vulgar frenzy. A sublime writer does can be infected is a vice
that follows mediocrity. Of outstanding merit that dark rival against him among
the great cabal incessantly, and on foot trying in vain to raise himself, to be
equal with him trying to belittle it. Do not go down in the cowardly intrigues
Let us not honored by shameful intrigue. That worms are not your eternal employm
ent Cultivate your friends, be a man of faith is unlikely to be pleasant and cha
rming book, must still know and talk and live.
- 45 -
Nicolas Boileau
Work for glory€Do a sordid and gain ever be a famous writer. I know that a noble
spirit, without shame and without guilt, Pull his work a legitimate tribute, bu
t I can not tolerate these well-known authors, who, fed up with fame and money s
tarving, Apollo to put their pledges of And booksellers are a divine art craft a
mercenary. Before the reason explained by the voice, Had taught humans have tau
ght law, all men would follow the rough nature Scattered ran into the woods to g
raze: The force took the place of law and equity; The murder practiced with impu
nity. But the speech, the last address of these wild harmonious manners soften t
he harshness, humans gathered in the forests scattered Enferma cities of walls a
nd ramparts, from the aspect of execution alarmed the insolence, and in support
laws put the low innocence. The order was said to be the fruit of the first vers
e: Then these sounds were born reçusdans the universe, That in accents filled wi
th Orpheus the Thracian mountains, stripped Tigers softened their audacity that
to the agreements 'Amphion moved the stones, And on the Theban hills in order st
ood. - 46 -
THE ART OF POETRY
The harmony produced these miracles are born. Since the sky was talking to the o
racles; From the heart of a priest touched by a divine horror Apollo by worms ve
nted his fury. Soon resurrecting the heroes of old age, Homer the great feats in
spired the courage. Hesiod, in turn, with useful lessons came too lazy fields ha
sten harvest. In a thousand messages Was famous wisdom drawn, using worms, morta
ls announced; minds everywhere And its precepts winners, Introduced by the ear,
entered the hearts. For so many happy benefits, the Muses of a revered Were ince
nse in Greece just honored, and their art, attracting the cult of mortals, at it
s glory lives in a hundred places erect altars. But after bringing the baseness
of indigence, Parnassus forgot his first nobility. A base love of gain, infectin
g the minds, Of brazen lies defiled all writings, And everywhere, giving birth f
rivolous thousand books, sold and traded in speech words. Do not stigmatize a vi
ce so low. If gold alone invincible charms for you, Flee this charming spot wate
red by the Permess: This is not on its shores inhabited by the rich.
- 47 -
Nicolas Boileau
For the most learned authors, as the greatest warriors, Apollo promises a name a
nd laurels. What! in want a muse Can not hungry, it will be said, remain smoke,
an author who, pressed a need unwelcome, the evening will scream his guts fastin
g Taste the sweet little Helicon walks: Horace drank his fill when he sees the M
aenads: And, free from concern that troubles Colletet Do not wait for dinner the
success of a sonnet. It is true but after this terrible disgrace among us rarel
y afflicts Parnassus. And that fear in this century, where the arts always one s
tar looks positive experience, where an enlightened prince of the wise foresight
across Done merit ignore poverty? Muses dictate his glory to all your babies: H
is name is better for them than your lessons. Corneille, for him rekindling his
daring, Be still and Corneille Le Cid and Horace, Racine That gives birth to new
miracles, His hero on his form all the tables; What his name chanted by the mou
ths of beautiful , Benserade everywhere entertains alleyways What Segrais in the
eclogue hornbeam forests; That epigram for him sharpen his features. - 48 -
THE ART OF POETRY
But what a happy author in another Aeneid, To the Rhine trembling lead this Alci
de? What scholarly lyre with his achievements still walk Will rocks and woods; S
ing the Dutchman, bewildered in the storm, Oneself, drowning out the wreck, Dira
battalions under Mastrich buried in those awful bouts of sunshine enlightened?
But while I speak, a new glory Towards this conqueror Rapid Alps calls. Already
Dole and Saline are bowed under the yoke; Besancon still smokes on his rock thun
derstruck. Where are these great warriors whose fatal Leagues Should this route
as opposed to dams? Do they still think fleeing arrest, Proud of the shameful di
stinction of having been able to avoid it? How many walls destroyed! How many ci
ties forced! What a harvest of glory current amassed! Authors, to sing redouble
your transport is not the subject of vulgar efforts. To me, that so far fed in s
atire, Dare still handle the trumpet and the lyre, You see me yet in this glorio
us field,€You animate the least voice and eyes and give you the lessons that my
muse Parnassus Report still young, trade Horace;
- 49 -
Nicolas Boileau
Second your enthusiasm, warm up your minds, and show you by far the crown and th
e price. But forgive if, full of zeal, not famous of all your faithful observer,
sometimes good gold I separate the false, and I attack the authors coarse defec
ts: Censor a bit annoying, but often necessary, more inclined to blame but learn
ed to do well.
- 50 -
THE ART OF POETRY
TABLE
CANTO FIRST. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
CANTO II. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 CANTO III. . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 CANTO IV. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41
___________
- 51 -
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CATALOG
Edmond About. The king of the mountain. Honore de Balzac. A drama by the sea • O
ne episode during the Terror. • Eugenie Grandet. • The peace of the household. J
ules Barbey d'Aurevilly. At a dinner of atheists. Nicolas Boileau. The Art of Po
etry. • The Lectern. Chateaubriand. Atala - René. • De Buonaparte and the Bourbo
ns. • Thoughts, Reflections and Maxims. • Vie de Rance • Trip to Italy. Francois
Coppe. Poems 1869-1874. • Henrietta. • Tales fast. Chenier. Selected Poems. Ern
est Daudet. The novel followed by Delphine Cousin Mary. Denis Diderot. Jacques t
he fatalist. • Letter on the book trade. Dumas. Ascanio. • Travel Impressions. •
The Woman in Velvet Collar. • The Conqueror of Mauleon. Alphonse Daudet. Letter
s from my mill. • The Nabob. Joachim Du Bellay. The Antiquities of Rome. • The R
egrets. Rene Dufour. On the road. Alain-Fournier. Le Grand Meaulnes. Anatole Fra
nce. Book of my friend. Eugene Fromentin. Dominica. Gautier. Enamels and Cameos.
- Selected Poems. • News and Romans. Jose-Maria de Heredia. Trophies. Victor Hu
go. About William Shakespeare. • Bug-Jargal. • Hans of Iceland. • Les Contemplat
ions. • Songs of the streets and woods. • The inner voices. • Paris. Madame de L
a Fayette. The Princess of Cleves - The Countess of Tende - The Princess of Mont
pensier. Alphonse de Lamartine. Graziella • Genevieve. • The Stone of St. Point.
• Jocelyn. • The fall of an angel. Leconte de Lisle. Ancient and Modern Poetry.
Pierre Loti. The romance of a child. • Fishermen Islance. Pierre de Marivaux. T
he Isle of Slaves. Prosper Merimee. The Venus of Ille. Hector Malot. Ghislaine.
Molière. L'Ecole des Femmes. • Forced marriage. Alfred de Musset. First poems. •
New Poems. • Posthumous Poems. • News Stories and II. • [Choice of Poems:] Nigh
ts - Miscellaneous Poems. Victor Pittie. Young Songs. Poems. Raymond Radiguet. T
he Devil in the Flesh. Arthur Rimbaud. Poems. Maurice Rollinat. Selected poems.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Social contract. • Julie or the New Heloise. • Reveries o
f a Solitary Walker.
CATALOG
George Sand. Tales of a grandmother (2nd series). • Walking around a village. Co
mtesse de Segur. The girls models. • Holidays. Sully Prudhomme. Poems 1865-1866
(Verses and Poems). • Poems 1866-1872 (The Events - Augean Stables - Italian Ske
tch - The Solitudes - Impressions of the War) • Poems 1872-1878 (Vain Tenderness
- France - The Revolt of flowers - Destiny - The Zenith) . • Poems 1878-1879 (O
n the Nature of Things - Justice). • Poems 18791888 (The Prism - The Happiness).
• Wrecks Stendhal. The Abbess of Castro. • The Charterhouse of Parma. • The Cen
ci. • The chest and back. • The Duchess of Palliano. • The Red and Black. • Too
much for kills. • Vanina Vanini. Jules Verne. The Cavern. • Mutiny on the Bounty
• A tragedy in Mexico. Gabriel Vicaire. The Magic Hour. • In the Land of gorse.
Alfred de Vigny. Ancient and modern poems. • Select Poems. • Exits to fear. Vol
taire. Short of universal history from Charlemagne to Charles the Fifth. Emile Z
ola. Money. • Tales to Ninon. • News stories to Ninon. • The lack of Father Mour
et. • The work.