Targum: Or Metrical Translations From Thirty Languages And Dialects

In Short

This book is an ambitious anthology of metrical translations spanning thirty languages and dialects, ranging from the ancient classics of Greece and the Norse sagas to the folk songs of the Cossacks and the hidden lore of the Romany people. Rather than a dry academic exercise, it is a personal pursuit of the "characteristic" spirit of diverse nations. By rendering these disparate voices into English verse, the work preserves a world of myth, mourning, and morality, lingering as a testament to the universal human impulse to sing of life, God, and the inevitable end of all things.

The Story

The collection opens with the humble confession of a scholar who has spent years accumulating a "huge and undigested mass" of translations. He acknowledges the difficulty of the "targumannic art"—that elusive challenge of capturing the specific turn and beauty of an original work rather than merely rendering its meaning into tolerable verse. Guided by the belief that a nation’s character is best distinguished by its poetry, he embarks on a global tour of the human soul.

The narrative arc begins in the East, where the Persian poets drink to roses and nightingales, singing of passion and the "passion-madden'd" heart that pleads for restoration in wine-cups. The focus then shifts to the spiritual devotion of the Tartar, who finds everything in the divine, and the moral metaphors of the Chinese, who see the virtues of the great reflected in the green bamboos along the riverbank. As the collection moves into the colder, more rugged landscapes of the North, the tone shifts from the contemplative to the martial. We encounter the "bold and warlike ditties of the Dane" and the fierce, thundering charge of the Cossacks, whose lives are dedicated to glory, war, and the service of an Attaman.

The heart of the journey finds its voice in the ancient ballads of Lithuania and the Gaelic laments of the dying bard, who remembers the hunter’s tread and the mountain glens of his youth with a visceral, haunting clarity. Here, the text touches upon the cyclical nature of existence, referencing the transmigration of souls and the heavy, slow-falling tears of the ancient Woinomoinen, whose harp-playing moves even the creatures of the sea.

As the collection reaches its latter stages, it confronts the weight of history and the permanence of death. We see the crumbling chimneys of a miser, a bitter reminder of vanity, followed by the grand, sweeping heroics of the Iliad and the Odyssey, where Achilles stands over the trench, his brow ignited by the blazes of Athena. The journey concludes with the weary, soulful pleas of the Italian poet begging Sleep for a moment of oblivion, and finally, the song of the Romany, who sing of the fox’s wit and the leveret’s speed as they pine in their prisons. Throughout these sections, the work consistently circles back to a central, somber truth: that though a man’s worldly fame may be as numerous as the doves of heaven, it shall have an end. The book ends not with a flourish, but with the quiet, resilient hope of the Romany, who look toward a day when the swallow follows the fly across the water, and they might finally forgive the wrongs they have met.

How It Unfolds

The philologist’s preface The author introduces his collection as a labor of years, admitting the difficulty of capturing the beauty of original works. He frames his task as a search for the essential character of different peoples, tempered by a careful moral filter.

The songs of the East The collection begins with Persian odes and Turkish prayers, establishing a tone of intense, often intoxicated, spiritual and romantic yearning. These early entries emphasize the fragility of worldly things compared to the permanence of divine love.

The northern martial spirit The focus shifts to the rugged, heroic ballads of the Danes, Russians, and Lithuanians. These poems celebrate the strength of the warrior, the tragedy of the battlefield, and the pride found in ancestral lands.

The voice of the ancient bards The middle section explores the deep, mythic roots of the British Isles and the North, featuring Gaelic laments and Welsh prophecies. The imagery becomes more atmospheric, focusing on the natural world and the fading memories of the old, heroic age.

The classical echoes The author provides selections from the Greek epics, portraying the larger-than-life struggles of heroes in Hades and on the plains of Troy. These pieces serve as a bridge between the ancient, mythic world and the more intimate, moralizing tone of the later translations.

The final meditations The work draws to a close with reflections on age, vanity, and the endurance of the oppressed. The final poems offer a quiet, lingering look at the cycles of life, ending on a note of reconciliation and longing for a better future.

The People

The figures populating these pages are archetypes of their respective cultures, yet they share a common humanity. Budrys, the old Lithuanian, sends his three sons into the world not for conquest, but for the symbols of their heritage and the memory of his lost wife. Achilles, the son of Peleus, looms large as the embodiment of martial rage and grief, forever defined by his loss in the red war-field. Orm Ungarswayne is the quintessential hero of the North, demanding the legendary sword Birting from his own father’s grave to avenge his lineage. Chloe, the pious maid, represents the collision between earthly devotion and divine intervention, snatched away to heaven while caught in a moment of prayer. Finally, the Romany voice emerges as a collective presence—the eternal wanderer, stoic under the weight of injustice, possessing the wit of the fox and the speed of the leveret, yet eternally dreaming of a time when the world’s wrongs might be forgiven.

In Its Own Voice

"The raven has ascended to the nest of the nightingale."

(A Persian image framing the unpredictable nature of cultural and poetic exchange.)

"O man, though the years of thy worldly fame are destined to be equal in number to the doves of the heaven, they shall nevertheless have an end."

(A sobering reminder from an Arabian sage that provides the moral foundation for the entire collection.)

"There's medicine to work thy restoration; Ever in memory the receipt retain-- 'Tis quaffing wine-cups to intoxication."

(A spirited, if hedonistic, piece of advice from a Persian poet on how to cure a heart broken by love.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an inquiry into the "characteristic" spirit of humanity—what makes one nation’s song warlike and another’s soft and effeminate. It operates on the assumption that poetry is a reliable map of the soul. The central argument is that while cultures differ vastly in their expression, they are bound by the same fundamental human experiences: the sting of lost youth, the weight of grief, the terror of the hunter, and the quiet, persistent hope for salvation. It asks whether we can ever truly know another people, suggesting that the closest we might get is through the translation of their laments and their prayers.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the quiet, scholarly endeavor of a bygone era will find much to admire here. There is a distinct, old-world warmth in the way the author approaches these diverse cultures, always looking for the "glorious flower" of their literature while carefully avoiding what he deems a "poisonous bulb." It is not a modern, clinical study, but a deeply personal, often romantic, compilation that reflects the attitudes and moral sensibilities of the early 19th century.

The reader should be prepared for the shifts in tone—from the thunderous, clashing metal of Norse battles to the delicate, tear-streaked prayers of the Dutch or the ancient Gaelic bards. It is a dense, sometimes demanding read, as the dialects and period-specific language require patience. However, those who persevere will be rewarded with a profound sense of temporal travel. It leaves you with the distinct feeling that, regardless of the language or the century, the human heart has always sung the same basic tune: a mix of defiance, sorrow, and a desperate, beautiful hope that our deeds—or at least our songs—will outlast our time on earth.