I constantly find in reviews of verse translations the following kind of thing that sends me into spasms of helpless fury: “Mr. (or Miss) So-and-so’s translation reads smoothly.” In other words, the reviewer of the “translation,” who neither has, nor would be able to have, without special study, any knowledge whatsoever of the original, praises as “readable” an imitation only because the drudge or the rhymster has substituted easy platitudes for the breathtaking intricacies of the text. “Readable,” indeed! A schoolboy’s boner is less of a mockery in regard to the ancient masterpiece than its commercial interpretation or poetization. “Rhyme” rhymes with “crime,” when Homer or Hamlet are rhymed. The term “free translation” smacks of knavery and tyranny. It is when the translator sets out to render the “spirit”—not the textual sense—that he begins to traduce his author. The clumsiest literal translation is a thousand times more useful than the prettiest paraphrase.