From Latin, Greek, to English presses,
‘tis rare that e’er the pith impresses.
Th’original oft effervesces
with sparkle, spite, delight, mistresses,
Spartan prowess, Roman fortresses,
maids like Mycilla, bought braids, tresses.
Who, living, the true jest possesses,
is past: - and all the rest is guesses.
Most amateur attempts are messes,
betray the sense, so each depresses.
Stray copies seldom seem successes,
translation tritely turned distresses,
and everybody who professes
ability thereat the less is!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem