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Aeneid Book VI: A New Verse Translation: Bilingual Edition
A masterpiece from one of the greatest poets of the century
In a momentous publication, Seamus Heaney’s translation of Book VI of the Aeneid, Virgil’s epic poem composed sometime between 29 and 19 BC, follows the hero, Aeneas, on his descent into the underworld. In Stepping Stones, a book of interviews conducted by Dennis O’Driscoll, Heaney acknowledged the significance of the poem to his writing, noting that “there’s one Virgilian journey that has indeed been a constant presence, and that is Aeneas’s venture into the underworld. The motifs in Book VI have been in my head for years—the golden bough, Charon’s barge, the quest to meet the shade of the father.”
In this new translation, Heaney employs the same deft handling of the original combined with the immediacy of language and the sophisticated poetic voice that were on show in his translation of Beowulf, a reimagining which, in the words of James Wood, “created something imperishable and great that is stainless—stainless, because its force as poetry makes it untouchable by the claw of literalism: it lives singly, as an English-language poem.”
In a momentous publication, Seamus Heaney’s translation of Book VI of the Aeneid, Virgil’s epic poem composed sometime between 29 and 19 BC, follows the hero, Aeneas, on his descent into the underworld. In Stepping Stones, a book of interviews conducted by Dennis O’Driscoll, Heaney acknowledged the significance of the poem to his writing, noting that “there’s one Virgilian journey that has indeed been a constant presence, and that is Aeneas’s venture into the underworld. The motifs in Book VI have been in my head for years—the golden bough, Charon’s barge, the quest to meet the shade of the father.”
In this new translation, Heaney employs the same deft handling of the original combined with the immediacy of language and the sophisticated poetic voice that were on show in his translation of Beowulf, a reimagining which, in the words of James Wood, “created something imperishable and great that is stainless—stainless, because its force as poetry makes it untouchable by the claw of literalism: it lives singly, as an English-language poem.”
112 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 20
About the author
Seamus Heaney
329 books997 followersWorks of Irish poet Seamus Justin Heaney reflect landscape, culture, and political crises of his homeland and include the collections
Wintering Out
(1972) and
Field Work
(1979) as well as a translation of
Beowulf
(1999). He won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1995.
This writer and lecturer won this prize "for works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past."
Heaney on Wikipedia.
This writer and lecturer won this prize "for works of lyrical beauty and ethical depth, which exalt everyday miracles and the living past."
Heaney on Wikipedia.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 101 reviews
October 30, 2024
Everyone, in these fast-paced consumer-driven times, seems to forget so easily that the ultimate and eternal destination in our lives is the Kingdom of Thanatos.
In fact, it's just around the corner, that mournful forever world of penance and reconciliation that Virgil - translated by Nobel laureate Heaney - describes so perfectly here.
So the final stage of our too-short lives must be Synced to that Kingdom's Elegiac Poetry. And we must begin to move to a slower, more sombre and a very Different Drummer!
Oh, it's not so bad, as Keats tells us in such ruminative works as Ode to a Nightingale - this sighing "being half in love with Death" - for, to go further, this Reality Principle of our End DOES promise peace when its blues begin to court our souls.
Perhaps that's no lie. Perhaps as consumers of family films with predictably happy endings we smile wistfully when young Luke Skywalker's father, Darth Vader, is unveiled as both his nemesis and his own blood.
So, "in my beginning is my end," to quote Four Quartets... for all our beginnings are in a Blighted Garden. We know that, but in our endless activity, we indefinitely put off that final meeting with our Shadow.
But Thanatos is OUR shadow, and we will all meet him soon enough.
And as sons of Darth Vader, we all are CHILDREN of grim Thanatos, too.
Is it perhaps time to start our Reconciliation?
Healing is necessary.
But it is so SWEET.
In fact, it's just around the corner, that mournful forever world of penance and reconciliation that Virgil - translated by Nobel laureate Heaney - describes so perfectly here.
So the final stage of our too-short lives must be Synced to that Kingdom's Elegiac Poetry. And we must begin to move to a slower, more sombre and a very Different Drummer!
Oh, it's not so bad, as Keats tells us in such ruminative works as Ode to a Nightingale - this sighing "being half in love with Death" - for, to go further, this Reality Principle of our End DOES promise peace when its blues begin to court our souls.
Perhaps that's no lie. Perhaps as consumers of family films with predictably happy endings we smile wistfully when young Luke Skywalker's father, Darth Vader, is unveiled as both his nemesis and his own blood.
So, "in my beginning is my end," to quote Four Quartets... for all our beginnings are in a Blighted Garden. We know that, but in our endless activity, we indefinitely put off that final meeting with our Shadow.
But Thanatos is OUR shadow, and we will all meet him soon enough.
And as sons of Darth Vader, we all are CHILDREN of grim Thanatos, too.
Is it perhaps time to start our Reconciliation?
Healing is necessary.
But it is so SWEET.
October 29, 2018
A very personal take on epic
When reviewing Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf (2000), I came upon this later translation of an ancient text, published posthumously in 2016. It makes a very interesting comparison to the earlier volume, showing greater freedom and flair in its poetry, but less successful as a standalone book. Unlike the Beowulf, it was not a commission but a labor of love, arising from the confluence of three elements: his gratitude to his old Latin teacher, his need to come to terms with the death of his father, and his thoughts on the imminent birth of his granddaughter. While this personal element is never overt in the translation, the poet's identification with the material, as so often with Heaney, is the key to its truth.
1. The Story, illustrated. The Aeneid, written by Virgil [Publius Vergilius Maro] early in the reign of the Emperor Augustus (27 BC to 14 AD) was an attempt to create an origin story for the Roman people. Aeneas, one of the sons of King Priam of Troy, escapes from the burning city with his father Anchises and his young son Ascanius. His travels take him to Carthage, where he falls in love with Queen Dido, until he is summoned by a higher destiny to Italy. After pausing in Sicily to celebrate the funeral rites of his father Anchises, Aeneas makes landfall on the Italian mainland at the start of Book VI. The burning questions in his mind are: What is my destiny? Why am I here?
Entrance to the cave of the Sibyl at Cumae
To answer this, he consults the Sibyl, or prophetess of Apollo, at Cumae, begging her to take him to the underworld, where he may consult his father's spirit. The Sibyl warns him that it is easy to go down the the underworld (facilis descensus Averno) but difficult to return. Nevertheless, she agrees to take him if he will first seek out the sacred Golden Bough, and make the appropriate prayers and sacrifices.
Turner: Aeneas and the Sibyl at Lake Avernus
The Sibyl takes him to Lake Avernus, so called because no birds fly over its sinister waters. Suddenly, in a passage of great drama, she is possessed by the power of the spirits. Sending all his retinue away, she hurries the hero underground, where he sees the throng of the dead awaiting permission to cross the River Styx.
Crespi: The Cumean Sibyl, Aeneas, and Charon
Charon, the surly ferryman, at first refuses to carry living passengers, but relents when the Sibyl shows him the Golden Bough. At each stage of his journey, Aeneas recognizes figures from history, mythology, or his own life, and enquires after their fates. Among the suicides, he sees Queen Dido and attempts to apologize, but she refuses to hear his explanations.
Jan Brueghel the Elder: Aeneas in the Underworld
Aeneas is forbidden to enter Tartarus, the place of the worst punishments, but the Sibyl gives him a small sample of what she knows, torments familiar from Greek mythology, only with slightly different names. As Heaney puts it:
If I had a thousand tongues,
If I had a hundred mouths and an iron voice,
I could neither spell out the foul catalogue
Of those crimes nor name their punishments.
Manfredi: Aeneas and the Spirit of Anchises
Finally Aeneas comes to the Groves of the Fortunate, and is reunited with his father, who is looking at a line of souls waiting to reenter the world above. This doctrine of reincarnation seems unique to Virgil, but it is a convenient device for Anchises to show his son the future of his race, which is beset with difficulties and setbacks, but includes the foundation of Rome, the giving of the laws, and the creation of a second Golden Age under the Emperor Augustus, to whom the whole epic is implicitly dedicated.
2. Heaney's Translation. Like his edition of Beowulf, Heaney's poem is printed with the original text on facing pages, but there is a significant difference in how the two volumes appear. The Beowulf translation matched the Anglo-Saxon original virtually line for line, so that both pages were full. Here, however, the left-hand pages with the Latin text are typically only about three-quarters as long as the English ones on the right, leaving white space at the bottom. In all, there are 1222 lines in Heaney's translation, as opposed to 901 lines in the Virgil. Partly, this is the result of the syntactical differences between Latin and English. Latin is a heavily-inflected language, where word-endings indicate their function in the whole. English, by contrast, relies on prepositions and word order, making it looser and less compressed. But this also speaks to the delightful freedom that Heaney allowed himself, writing for his own pleasure at the end of his life. As an example, here is the end of Aeneas' first request to the Sibyl:
"foliis tantum ne carmina manda,Two sentences in three lines, the first not even complete. An excruciatingly literal translation, with the implied pronouns and prepositions in brackets, might read:
ne turbata volent rapidis ludibria ventis;
ipsa canas oro." finem dedit ore loquendi.
[on] leaves however not songs send / lest disturbed [they] fly rapid playthings [of] winds; / yourself sing [I] pray. End [he] gave [by] mouth speaking.Heaney, thank goodness, is hardly bound by the Latin forms at all, but he captures the sense in a passage that seems light as the breezes of which they speak:
"Yet one thing I ask of you: not to inscribeFrom this, it will be seen that Heaney makes no attempt to follow the rhythmic structure of the Latin, not even to the degree he did with Beowulf. Virgil wrote in dactlyic hexameters, a rhythm that goes, in its simplest form:
Your visions in verse on the leaves
In case they go frolicking off
In the wind. Chant them yourself, I beseech you."
So saying, Aeneas fell silent.
– u u | – u u | – u u | – u u | – u u | – –(although in any of the first four feet, the long-short-short pattern [– u u] may be compressed into two longs [– –]). This makes for long lines and a rhythm that does not easily fit the native English cadence. Some earlier translations have attempted to match the Latin meter, but they look wordy on the page and sound archaic to the ear. Nonetheless, there are some very effective moments when Heaney follows the original almost exactly. One such is when Aeneas attempts to embrace his father but finds nothing but empty air. Three times he tries, three lines in Latin, but how powerful they are!
ter conatus ibi collo dare bracchia circum,Almost as recompense for this failure, the text continues immediately with Aeneas' vision of the souls awaiting their chance of rebirth. Heaney has no special tricks up his sleeve, but he doesn't need them; all he needs do is to follow Virgil's radiant pastoral line by line. Sometimes the poet's greatest genius is to keep his genius in check:
ter frustra comprensa manus effugit imago,
par levibus ventis volucrique simillima somno.
Three times he tried to reach arms round that neck.
Three times the form, reached for in vain, escaped
Like a breeze between his hands, a dream on wings.
Meanwhile, at the far end of a valley, Aeneas saw
A remote grove, bushy rustling thickets,
And the river Lethe somnolently flowing,
Lapping those peaceful haunts along its banks.
Here a hovering multitude, innumerable
Nations and gathered clans, kept the fields
Humming with life, like bees in meadows
On a clear summer day alighting on pied flowers
And wafting in mazy swarms around white lilies.
3. The Problem. The last quarter of the book, which now begins, is programatically the most important, for in it Anchises foretells everything that Augustus most wants to hear: the epic history of Rome culminating in his own enlightened rule. But for the translator and reader, less so. As Heaney remarks in his brief Translator's Note:
By the time the story reaches its climax in Anchises' vision of a glorious Roman race who will issue from Aeneas' marriage with Lavinia, the translator is likely to have moved from inspiration to grim determination: the roll call of general and imperial heroes, the allusions to variously famous or obscure historical victories and defeats, make this part of the poem something of a test for reader and translator alike. But for the sake of the little one whose "earthlight" broke in late 2006 [his granddaughter and dedicatee], and the one who sighed for his favourite Virgil in the 1950s classroom [his old teacher], it had to be gone through with.Still, you can't blame the translator for the intractability of some of his material. But it points to another problem that might have been corrected if the poet himself had been able to see the book through to publication: there is no contextual information, and no notes. Even before Anchises launches into his dynastic recitation, the book has been filled with mythological references, most of which will probably not be known to the average reader. That leaves two options: read right through the text and let the names wash over you as pure sound, or find an annotated edition that will give you the explanations that you need. I would advise both solutions, first one and then the other.
I am sure there are many annotated editions that I have not seen, but in my local bookstore I found two, both translating the entire epic. One is the Barnes and Noble edition whose notes are compact but definitely helpful; the big downside is that the translation, by Christopher Pearse Cranch, dates from 1872! The other is the 2006 version by Robert Fagles. While not quite of Heaney's standard, the translation seems pretty good. But the upside here is that it is a really beautifully produced edition, with copious notes, an extensive glossary of proper names, and a superb introduction by Bernard Knox. I would not want to give up this slim volume by Seamus Heaney, but if you wanted a complete annotated edition, the Fagles is what I would recommend.
4. Footnote: Route 110. A translator is always at the mercy of his materials, and is writing for an audience that may be different from his own. So, as I did with Beowulf, I would like to end by allowing Heaney his own voice. In his introduction, he tells us of a poem sequence he published in his final collection. Called "Route 110," the bus route from Belfast to his home in County Derry, it uses the episodes of Book VI as landmarks for a journey to celebrate the birth of his granddaughter.
It was a matter, in other words, of a relatively simple "mythic method" being employed over the twelve sections. The focus this time, however, was not the meeting of the son with the father, but the vision of future Roman generations with which Book VI ends, specifically the moment on the river Lethe where we are shown the souls of those about to be reborn and return to life on earth. "Route 110" also ends with a birth.Here, then, are the two closing poems of that sequence:
Those evenings when we'd just wait and watch
And fish. Then the evening the otter's head
Appeared in the flow, or was it only
A surface-ruck and gleam we took for
An otter's head? No doubting, all the same,
The gleam, a turnover warp in the black
Quick water. Or doubting the solid ground
Of the riverbank field, twilit and a-hover
With midge-drifts, as if we had commingled
Among shades and shadows stirring on the brink
And stood there waiting, watching,
Needy and ever needier for translation.
And now the age of births. As when once
At dawn from the foot of our back garden
The last to leave came with fresh-plucked flowers
To quell whatever smells of drink and smoke
Would linger on where mother and child were due
Later that morning from the nursing home,
So now, as a thank-offering for one
Whose long wait on the shaded bank has ended,
I arrive with my bunch of stalks and silvered heads
Like tapers that won't dim
As her earthlight breaks and we gather round
Talking baby talk.
June 21, 2016
Seamus Heaney's new translation of Book VI of Virgil's Aeneid, composed sometime between 29 and 19 BC, retells the story of Aeneas' descent into the underworld (Dis), down to "Death's deepest regions," in search of his dear father's spirit. Although I'm not qualified to comment on the quality of Heaney's translation of the epic poem from Latin into English compared to earlier translations by Fagles, Fitzgerald, Dryden, and Ahl, et al., other than to say I'm sure it was no easy feat, his finished rendition is something quite enjoyable to read. Should you read it? Of course. It is not only a classic, pre-dating both the Christian concept of Hell and Dante's Inferno, but Aeneas' archetypal descent into the underworld is a journey you'll not soon forget.
March 8, 2016
From BBC Radio 4 - Book of the Week:
Seamus Heaney was working on a translation of book VI of Virgil's Aeneid in the last months of his life .
Ian McKellen reads the poet's posthumously published final work in which Aeneas travels into the underworld to meet the spirit of his father. It's a story that had captivated Seamus Heaney from his schooldays. But the work took on a special significance for him after the death of his own father, becoming a touchstone to which he would return as an adult. His noble and moving translation of Book VI bears the fruit of a lifetime's concentration upon it: he began translating passages in the 1980s, and was finalising the work right up to the summer of his death.
Given the themes of the posthumously released Book VI, there is added poignancy in this final gift to his readers - a work which marks the end of Heaney's poetic journey.
Then as her fit passed away and her raving went quiet,
Heroic Aeneas began: 'No ordeal, O Sibyl, no new
Test can dismay me, for I have foreseen
And foresuffered all. But one thing I pray for
Especially: since here the gate opens, they say,
To the King of the Underworld's realms, and here
In these shadowy marshes the Acheron floods
To the surface, vouchsafe me one look,
One face-to-face meeting with my dear father.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b072j0mn
Seamus Heaney was working on a translation of book VI of Virgil's Aeneid in the last months of his life .
Ian McKellen reads the poet's posthumously published final work in which Aeneas travels into the underworld to meet the spirit of his father. It's a story that had captivated Seamus Heaney from his schooldays. But the work took on a special significance for him after the death of his own father, becoming a touchstone to which he would return as an adult. His noble and moving translation of Book VI bears the fruit of a lifetime's concentration upon it: he began translating passages in the 1980s, and was finalising the work right up to the summer of his death.
Given the themes of the posthumously released Book VI, there is added poignancy in this final gift to his readers - a work which marks the end of Heaney's poetic journey.
Then as her fit passed away and her raving went quiet,
Heroic Aeneas began: 'No ordeal, O Sibyl, no new
Test can dismay me, for I have foreseen
And foresuffered all. But one thing I pray for
Especially: since here the gate opens, they say,
To the King of the Underworld's realms, and here
In these shadowy marshes the Acheron floods
To the surface, vouchsafe me one look,
One face-to-face meeting with my dear father.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b072j0mn
March 15, 2016
BOTW
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b072j0mnDescription: Seamus Heaney was working on a translation of book VI of Virgil's Aeneid in the last months of his life .
Ian McKellen reads the poet's posthumously published final work in which Aeneas travels into the underworld to meet the spirit of his father. It's a story that had captivated Seamus Heaney from his schooldays. But the work took on a special significance for him after the death of his own father, becoming a touchstone to which he would return as an adult. His noble and moving translation of Book VI bears the fruit of a lifetime's concentration upon it: he began translating passages in the 1980s, and was finalising the work right up to the summer of his death.
Given the themes of the posthumously released Book VI, there is added poignancy in this final gift to his readers - a work which marks the end of Heaney's poetic journey.
Then as her fit passed away and her raving went quiet,
Heroic Aeneas began: 'No ordeal, O Sibyl, no new
Test can dismay me, for I have foreseen
And foresuffered all. But one thing I pray for
Especially: since here the gate opens, they say,
To the King of the Underworld's realms, and here
In these shadowy marshes the Acheron floods
To the surface, vouchsafe me one look,
One face-to-face meeting with my dear father.
Aeneid Book VI by Seamus Heaney review – a pitch-perfect translation
May 26, 2016
The Gate of Horn
An illustration of a bough rendered in gold adorns the cover of this slim volume and just like the bough the content shines with a brilliance, as of gold.
I have read Aeneid Book VI dozens of times, both in Latin and in various English translations; I am familiar with the entire Latin text, aware of the difficulties at specific points in rendering Virgil’s language into felicitous English and in carrying across the Roman poet’s emotional intensity into another language – an impossible task – or so I might have said before encountering this, the best translation of the Book I have ever read. What a wonderful irony that Heaney’s last gift to the public is a book about the afterlife published after his death.
I recall some years ago remarking to Heaney about his apparent empathy with Virgil – his response simply a smile. The cause of empathy is obvious: both from farming stock, both from a Celtic background (Virgil’s homeland Cisalpine Gaul). A Heaney version of the Georgics? Now, there’s a thought. We may actually have it, lying as a foundation beneath so many of his own poems.
Some have commented on the brevity of this volume and its cost per page. I found I wanted to read it slowly, savouring how Heaney had worked this phrase, rendered that idea. Even the few misspellings, Parathous for Pirithous, Carthiginian for Carthaginian added to the charm; after all Virgil himself died with the Aeneid lacking its final polish, studded with incomplete lines and occasional inconsistency of narrative.
Heaney’s Aeneid VI is itself a masterpiece, as well as homage to a masterpiece.
An illustration of a bough rendered in gold adorns the cover of this slim volume and just like the bough the content shines with a brilliance, as of gold.
I have read Aeneid Book VI dozens of times, both in Latin and in various English translations; I am familiar with the entire Latin text, aware of the difficulties at specific points in rendering Virgil’s language into felicitous English and in carrying across the Roman poet’s emotional intensity into another language – an impossible task – or so I might have said before encountering this, the best translation of the Book I have ever read. What a wonderful irony that Heaney’s last gift to the public is a book about the afterlife published after his death.
I recall some years ago remarking to Heaney about his apparent empathy with Virgil – his response simply a smile. The cause of empathy is obvious: both from farming stock, both from a Celtic background (Virgil’s homeland Cisalpine Gaul). A Heaney version of the Georgics? Now, there’s a thought. We may actually have it, lying as a foundation beneath so many of his own poems.
Some have commented on the brevity of this volume and its cost per page. I found I wanted to read it slowly, savouring how Heaney had worked this phrase, rendered that idea. Even the few misspellings, Parathous for Pirithous, Carthiginian for Carthaginian added to the charm; after all Virgil himself died with the Aeneid lacking its final polish, studded with incomplete lines and occasional inconsistency of narrative.
Heaney’s Aeneid VI is itself a masterpiece, as well as homage to a masterpiece.
September 23, 2017
I've not read the Aeneid, so I figured Heaney's translation of Book VI could work as a placeholder until I revisit my guilt stack of books that I've not read (but should). In addition, Heaney, in his Translator's Note, mentions his attraction to this particular book being rooted (partially) in his own father's demise. As one who recently lost a father, I could relate. As others have noted, the book is about Aeneas' descent into the underworld, where he meets his father, Anchises. The descent is remarkable (for me) in how close it resembles Dante's descent. (Now I know why Dante had Virgil along for the "Inferno" ride!) Though a much briefer sample size, Virgil's imagination when it comes to snapping nasty things was every bit as rich as Dante's. Anyway, after the moving meeting between father and son, the book's final 10 pages or so are devoted to the "future glory of the Trojan race" (i.e. Rome). Given this 93 page "book" has only 50 in English, that's a considerable bite. Heaney himself says in his note that this part of the translation moved him from the book's initial inspiration (father and son reunion) to the simply grim determination to finish (the boring catalogue of "greatness"). Whatever. At 50 pages, it is what it is. A quick read that has some good moments of weird and moving. I believe this one of the last projects Heaney worked on. I can't help but wonder if he sensed his mortality closing in. Below is a link to a reading by Edna O'Brien of the pivotal lines. It may whet your appetite. It should. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXY2W...
April 17, 2022
This is a beautiful translation, which according to the classic formula cannot therefore be entirely faithful to Vergil. I like it as poetry, but I like the simplicity of Ruden's English better as a translation.
December 10, 2016
*4.5 stars
This was amazing. Seriously, if you read any poetry this year, make sure you pick this up. At £14.99 it's probably too expensive for what is only 50 pages (just over 1000 lines) of poetry (but it has a nice, sophisticated-looking cover at least? It's slightly cheaper on Amazon though). I dearly, dearly wish he'd translated the whole of Aeneid, because it would have been (although a mammoth job -- but wasn't Beowulf I suppose?) absolutely magnificent. I really want to read the rest of the Aeneid now, but I'm not sure that any other translations would ever come close to Heaney's....
It was everything that I imagined and wanted from classical literature that I didn't really get from the fairly plain style of the modern prose translations that I read of the Odyssey and the Iliad (some advice: if you're thinking about reading anything of the classics, be very very careful about what translation you get). Heaney's style is so subtly beautiful and evocative and lends itself so easily to the epic voice. Even though Beowulf was also great, I think, content-wise, I MUCH prefer greek mythology because I find this narrative is so much more fast-paced and exciting (also, there are lots of ladies! Woohoo!). The way that Heaney depicted the Underworld was so fantastically vivid in my mind that I was honestly pretty mind-blown. Have you ever read something so wonderfully ingenious that you just sit there, in awe, unable to even go on with the narrative because you're so stunned by how beautiful it is? That's what this is. And we all know how incredibly rarely I say things that, so consider this review very high praise indeed. I docked half a star simply because of how short it was -- again I lament, if only he'd translated the whole thing! -- but honestly if you're into greek mythology/classics, or quite like the idea of *getting into* greek mythology (who wouldn't??), this is exactly the kind of volume you'll want to read. Scrap the other poems, I can legit imagine this being studied in classrooms in 25 years' time. THIS is the kind of quality stuff you wanna read about the ancient world. Trust me.
This was amazing. Seriously, if you read any poetry this year, make sure you pick this up. At £14.99 it's probably too expensive for what is only 50 pages (just over 1000 lines) of poetry (but it has a nice, sophisticated-looking cover at least? It's slightly cheaper on Amazon though). I dearly, dearly wish he'd translated the whole of Aeneid, because it would have been (although a mammoth job -- but wasn't Beowulf I suppose?) absolutely magnificent. I really want to read the rest of the Aeneid now, but I'm not sure that any other translations would ever come close to Heaney's....
It was everything that I imagined and wanted from classical literature that I didn't really get from the fairly plain style of the modern prose translations that I read of the Odyssey and the Iliad (some advice: if you're thinking about reading anything of the classics, be very very careful about what translation you get). Heaney's style is so subtly beautiful and evocative and lends itself so easily to the epic voice. Even though Beowulf was also great, I think, content-wise, I MUCH prefer greek mythology because I find this narrative is so much more fast-paced and exciting (also, there are lots of ladies! Woohoo!). The way that Heaney depicted the Underworld was so fantastically vivid in my mind that I was honestly pretty mind-blown. Have you ever read something so wonderfully ingenious that you just sit there, in awe, unable to even go on with the narrative because you're so stunned by how beautiful it is? That's what this is. And we all know how incredibly rarely I say things that, so consider this review very high praise indeed. I docked half a star simply because of how short it was -- again I lament, if only he'd translated the whole thing! -- but honestly if you're into greek mythology/classics, or quite like the idea of *getting into* greek mythology (who wouldn't??), this is exactly the kind of volume you'll want to read. Scrap the other poems, I can legit imagine this being studied in classrooms in 25 years' time. THIS is the kind of quality stuff you wanna read about the ancient world. Trust me.
April 16, 2016
Brilliant version of Book 6 of the Aeneid: Aeneas's journey to the Underworld. Masterful; I can see a poet's hand here. Vivid. Heaney even makes the boring last section interesting where Anchises enumerates the Roman heroes-to-be to his son and speaks of Rome's "Manifest Destiny" to rule a large Empire.
Heartily recommended, even for those who may have read other translations.
Heartily recommended, even for those who may have read other translations.
July 22, 2022
Another fantastic translation by Heaney, rendered here as a magnificent stand alone work. In this story, Aeneas travels to the underworld to meet one last time with his dead father, and in so doing is confronted with the past and the future: old friends and foes, long gone, as well as his heirs that are yet to be. In his foreword, Heaney makes his objectives here clear: this is a work more for him than for the reader, as it is a reflection taken in light of the passing of his father and the birth of his grandchild. He is Aeneas, we but the Sybil, making open his thoughts on the impact of his own life. In reading this, we are thereby given a glimpse into Heaney's personal thoughts, all while reflecting on the theme of mortality.
July 7, 2018
I am an absolute novice with the classics. I can barely keep Aeneas and Odysseus straight in my head, let alone remember who played for what team at Troy. So when I say I found Heaney’s translation riveting—the human and the immediate lying alongside the ancient and alienating—then you should be convinced.
You can skim the bit about Roman genealogy though. It’s what Heaney expected anyway.
You can skim the bit about Roman genealogy though. It’s what Heaney expected anyway.
September 15, 2022
A solid translation of a more interesting book of the Aeneid. Heaney’s poetic voice remains clear even through Virgil’s filter. The very ending of the book, as Heaney acknowledges, will be of little interest to anyone but the historian. Of course, the translator is not to blame for the material he works with, and as far as Heaney is concerned, I have few issues with his compromise between accuracy and good English verse. Recommended for Latin scholar and layman alike
August 23, 2018
https://nwhyte.livejournal.com/3066044.html
I think that Heaney does manage to get across the dark tone of the poem, and his verse also sounds better when read aloud.
I think that Heaney does manage to get across the dark tone of the poem, and his verse also sounds better when read aloud.
October 14, 2018
A wonderful, thoughtful translation, if only Seamus Heaney had translated Book 1 when I was doing it for O level Latin, what a help that would have been!!
Book six is the part where Aeneas travels from Carthage to the shores of Italy where he visits the Sybil (seer) who accompanies him over the Styx to the underworld, where he meets his dead father, who tells him that he is destined to found Rome. The descriptive text flows smoothly and easily and was pure delight.
Book six is the part where Aeneas travels from Carthage to the shores of Italy where he visits the Sybil (seer) who accompanies him over the Styx to the underworld, where he meets his dead father, who tells him that he is destined to found Rome. The descriptive text flows smoothly and easily and was pure delight.
September 9, 2021
3-4 stars
January 12, 2022
The story of Aeneas visiting the underworld, but the worth is in the language as put into English by a poet.
January 18, 2022
Obviously a dope translation from my man. Opens up a lot of his poems, for which I'm grateful. But giving only three stars cause it didn't do much for me beyond that.
August 25, 2022
Out of fear I’ve never read an epic poem but though it was really difficult initially I really enjoyed it
June 1, 2017
Seamus Heaney translation of Book VI of Virgil's "Aeneid" is faithful without being overly poetic. It flows with a prose rhythm and proceeds with a relative economy. He never over bloats the original with poetic invention of his own devising, even though his version comes out several hundred lines longer than the original. Mandelbaum and most other translators going all the way back to Dryden do too.
As is also often the case, he does little to reproduce Virgil's breathtaking word order and meaningful line breaks, but a fluid and readable translation cannot necessarily be faulted for that. It is just a shame how much of the original poetic art is inevitably lost.
More than anything else, Heaney puts his stamp on it by rendering certain expressions with playful witticisms.
Virgil is the poet of the tricolor crescendo. Why say something once when you can say it in thrice?He has the tendency to restate his point three times over. Heaney has the tendency repeatedly over the course of the book to state things twice, even when it corresponds to nothing in the original.
For example, he renders "simili frondescit virga metallo" as "emanating / that same sheen and shimmer" (v. 144 and 197-8 respectively).
This practice of alliterative repetition of an extra adjective appears with some consistency. Elsewhere it has a sing song effect, as in "vexit me violentus aqua" which is rendered "hurled me and hurled me" (v. 356 and 472). The duplicatio is not present in the original. "Nunc me fluctus habit versantque in litore venti" becomes "The shore winds loll me and roll me" (v. 362 and 480), the rhyming quality of which are imitative of the content they represent. The reader can palpably feel the sea rolling and lolling, lolling and rolling beneath their feet in a way that Virgil's phrasing does not quite achieve.
It continues when "tum demum horrisono stridentes cardine sacrae" is rendered with his by now signature "next comes a grinding scrunch and screech" (v. 573 and 778).
In a moment that sheds some light on one of the alternative readings of the "primus" at the end of one of the first few lines back in Book I, Heaney renders "Nec non Aeneas opera inter talia primus" with the following, "As all this proceeded, Aeneas was to the fore" (v. 181 and 249). That "primus" back in Book 1, which is often rendered as "the first" to come to the shores of Italy, could also be "foremost," as in the leader of his crew, following Heaney's example here. This alternative take seems likely, especially since a few dozen lines later in Book 1 we find out that another Trojan refugee, Antenor, has already beat our pious friend to the punch having founded Padua in the north well before Aeneas jumped through all the hurdles in his way.
In a more charming move, "melle soporatam et medicatis frugibus offam" (v. 420), describing what Aeneas tosses to the "monster cave-dog" Cerberus, becomes "a dumpling of soporific honey / and heavily drugged grain" (vv. 562-3).
"Turned on his heel" is also a happy solution for "vestigia torsit."
I had the pleasure the other day of hearing actor Stephen Rea perform a reading of Heaney's "Aeneid Book VI" in its entirety with an imaginative and unobtrusive cello accompaniment. It afforded me the opportunity to kick back and follow along in the Latin to get the overall sense of what characterizes this all around fluid and highly readable translation of a work with which I have spent a lot of time. Other translations may be more poetic but this one as a stand alone volume presents the unique opportunity of encountering this pivotal book in the poem on its own and to see it with fresh eyes. Heaney's subtly idiosyncratic take is never daunting. It opens this dynamic piece of the epic up by extending an open hand like the invitation of an old friend who speaks your language tact and grace. There is no dry classics posing or posturing here.
As is also often the case, he does little to reproduce Virgil's breathtaking word order and meaningful line breaks, but a fluid and readable translation cannot necessarily be faulted for that. It is just a shame how much of the original poetic art is inevitably lost.
More than anything else, Heaney puts his stamp on it by rendering certain expressions with playful witticisms.
Virgil is the poet of the tricolor crescendo. Why say something once when you can say it in thrice?He has the tendency to restate his point three times over. Heaney has the tendency repeatedly over the course of the book to state things twice, even when it corresponds to nothing in the original.
For example, he renders "simili frondescit virga metallo" as "emanating / that same sheen and shimmer" (v. 144 and 197-8 respectively).
This practice of alliterative repetition of an extra adjective appears with some consistency. Elsewhere it has a sing song effect, as in "vexit me violentus aqua" which is rendered "hurled me and hurled me" (v. 356 and 472). The duplicatio is not present in the original. "Nunc me fluctus habit versantque in litore venti" becomes "The shore winds loll me and roll me" (v. 362 and 480), the rhyming quality of which are imitative of the content they represent. The reader can palpably feel the sea rolling and lolling, lolling and rolling beneath their feet in a way that Virgil's phrasing does not quite achieve.
It continues when "tum demum horrisono stridentes cardine sacrae" is rendered with his by now signature "next comes a grinding scrunch and screech" (v. 573 and 778).
In a moment that sheds some light on one of the alternative readings of the "primus" at the end of one of the first few lines back in Book I, Heaney renders "Nec non Aeneas opera inter talia primus" with the following, "As all this proceeded, Aeneas was to the fore" (v. 181 and 249). That "primus" back in Book 1, which is often rendered as "the first" to come to the shores of Italy, could also be "foremost," as in the leader of his crew, following Heaney's example here. This alternative take seems likely, especially since a few dozen lines later in Book 1 we find out that another Trojan refugee, Antenor, has already beat our pious friend to the punch having founded Padua in the north well before Aeneas jumped through all the hurdles in his way.
In a more charming move, "melle soporatam et medicatis frugibus offam" (v. 420), describing what Aeneas tosses to the "monster cave-dog" Cerberus, becomes "a dumpling of soporific honey / and heavily drugged grain" (vv. 562-3).
"Turned on his heel" is also a happy solution for "vestigia torsit."
I had the pleasure the other day of hearing actor Stephen Rea perform a reading of Heaney's "Aeneid Book VI" in its entirety with an imaginative and unobtrusive cello accompaniment. It afforded me the opportunity to kick back and follow along in the Latin to get the overall sense of what characterizes this all around fluid and highly readable translation of a work with which I have spent a lot of time. Other translations may be more poetic but this one as a stand alone volume presents the unique opportunity of encountering this pivotal book in the poem on its own and to see it with fresh eyes. Heaney's subtly idiosyncratic take is never daunting. It opens this dynamic piece of the epic up by extending an open hand like the invitation of an old friend who speaks your language tact and grace. There is no dry classics posing or posturing here.
January 19, 2020
If you have not read the full Aeneid, or have only a vague knowledge of the events contained and surrounding the story, then you might have difficulty fitting Book VI into a larger context. You may, for instance, like to know who this Dido lady is and why her dead shade is so pissed off at our hero. What I am saying is, the inclusion of a simple explanatory introduction might have been a good idea.
Ah, but the language is lovely. It has Heaney's trademark earthiness; one feels solidly connected to the mysterious and molecular nature of the world. Early in the book there is a description of some the Trojans, recently landed on the shore of Italy, searching for flint; for the seedling fire it hides in its veins. What a beautiful, evocative choice of words. These same flint-hunters we just read about are described as "young hotbloods", and we, the readers know perfectly all we need to about their characters. Good translation, like the incidental music in movies or the umpiring of a baseball game, should never draw attention to itself. It is only the beauty of the words, never their incongruity, we notice. My personal favourite passage (551-557) occurs when Aeneas and Sibyl step into Charon's barge:
Under that weight the boat's plied timbers groan
And thick marsh water oozes through the leaks,
But in the end it is a safe crossing, and he lands
Soldier and soothsayer on slithery mud, knee-deep
In grey-green sedge.
Once in the underworld, we are introduced to a number of its inhabitants, and this is where I would have liked the gentle light of a little background information to illuminate my reading. Okay, I know who Dido is. But who are these shades who suffered hard and cruel decline in thrall to unremitting love? You can't just say that and leave me hanging! I gotta know who these Phaedra and Procris are! Not to mention Caeneus, who, in her time had known life as a man, though fate had now restored the figure of the woman she once was. Now that sounds like an interesting story!
But most interesting of all is when Aeneas meets his dad, and pops shows his son all his unborn descendants; that is to say all the future rulers of Rome up to the time Virgil himself was writing this story. As you might expect, Virgil uses the opportunity to heap praise on his own emperor, Augustus, and we read this bit with chuckle. Virgil, you are such a brown-noser.
Ah! Such great book! I am inspired to read the Aeneid in its entirety now. Perhaps not quite so inspired as to learn ancient greek, but certainly inspired enough to go on wikipedia and find out more about this Caeneus character.
Ah, but the language is lovely. It has Heaney's trademark earthiness; one feels solidly connected to the mysterious and molecular nature of the world. Early in the book there is a description of some the Trojans, recently landed on the shore of Italy, searching for flint; for the seedling fire it hides in its veins. What a beautiful, evocative choice of words. These same flint-hunters we just read about are described as "young hotbloods", and we, the readers know perfectly all we need to about their characters. Good translation, like the incidental music in movies or the umpiring of a baseball game, should never draw attention to itself. It is only the beauty of the words, never their incongruity, we notice. My personal favourite passage (551-557) occurs when Aeneas and Sibyl step into Charon's barge:
Under that weight the boat's plied timbers groan
And thick marsh water oozes through the leaks,
But in the end it is a safe crossing, and he lands
Soldier and soothsayer on slithery mud, knee-deep
In grey-green sedge.
Once in the underworld, we are introduced to a number of its inhabitants, and this is where I would have liked the gentle light of a little background information to illuminate my reading. Okay, I know who Dido is. But who are these shades who suffered hard and cruel decline in thrall to unremitting love? You can't just say that and leave me hanging! I gotta know who these Phaedra and Procris are! Not to mention Caeneus, who, in her time had known life as a man, though fate had now restored the figure of the woman she once was. Now that sounds like an interesting story!
But most interesting of all is when Aeneas meets his dad, and pops shows his son all his unborn descendants; that is to say all the future rulers of Rome up to the time Virgil himself was writing this story. As you might expect, Virgil uses the opportunity to heap praise on his own emperor, Augustus, and we read this bit with chuckle. Virgil, you are such a brown-noser.
Ah! Such great book! I am inspired to read the Aeneid in its entirety now. Perhaps not quite so inspired as to learn ancient greek, but certainly inspired enough to go on wikipedia and find out more about this Caeneus character.
October 29, 2016
Heaney called this late work, a “classics homework,” and makes no bones of the fact that the narrative loses its dynamism two-thirds through as Virgil pays homage to his imperial patrons. Yet, there is the first two-thirds of the book and the charm of Heaney paying a homage of his own to a long ago teacher of Latin.
Book VI find Aeneas arriving in Italy and visiting the Sibyl of Cumae from whom he desires two things: to know of his future and to find passage to the House of the Dead to meet with his father one last time. Before it is a book of song in praise of empire, Book VI is an elegy of great feeling as the Sibyl first tells Aeneas that one of his crew members has died and he must bury his dead companion with proper honors. Then he may look for the golden bough that is the price of admission to the underworld.
After the funeral Virgil does for the reader what he will do for Dante later, takes us on a tour of the House of the Dead, where various spirits and evils loiter at the entrance but also “pain / And self-wounding thoughts,” “diseases, the sorrows of age,” and “agonies of mind.” Inside the House of the Dead there is essentially a series of antechambers where in order of appearance are: infants and children, the unjustly executed, suicides, those in “thrall to an unremitting love,” and those killed in war. It is a more humane limbo, but then the way parts and on one path is heaven (Elysium) and the other leads to hell. Hell is not open to Aeneas’s viewing, he hears the cries and the torment but is not allowed to see so the Sibyl describes who suffers within. Those who “Hated a brother, abused a parent, or ruined / The good name of a client; those who gloated / On wealth they’d secretly amasses and hoarded / And failed to share with kith and kin (they comprised / The biggest crowd).” Betrayers, liars, violators of oaths.
And who makes it to the Elysian Fields, “the Groves of the Fortunate Ones who dwell in Joy”? Great heroes who suffered for their country, poets, artists and creators, those “Remembered for a life spent serving others”. In sum, it is where Seamus Heaney has gone to find Virgil and his Latin teacher, Father Michael McGlinchey.
Book VI find Aeneas arriving in Italy and visiting the Sibyl of Cumae from whom he desires two things: to know of his future and to find passage to the House of the Dead to meet with his father one last time. Before it is a book of song in praise of empire, Book VI is an elegy of great feeling as the Sibyl first tells Aeneas that one of his crew members has died and he must bury his dead companion with proper honors. Then he may look for the golden bough that is the price of admission to the underworld.
After the funeral Virgil does for the reader what he will do for Dante later, takes us on a tour of the House of the Dead, where various spirits and evils loiter at the entrance but also “pain / And self-wounding thoughts,” “diseases, the sorrows of age,” and “agonies of mind.” Inside the House of the Dead there is essentially a series of antechambers where in order of appearance are: infants and children, the unjustly executed, suicides, those in “thrall to an unremitting love,” and those killed in war. It is a more humane limbo, but then the way parts and on one path is heaven (Elysium) and the other leads to hell. Hell is not open to Aeneas’s viewing, he hears the cries and the torment but is not allowed to see so the Sibyl describes who suffers within. Those who “Hated a brother, abused a parent, or ruined / The good name of a client; those who gloated / On wealth they’d secretly amasses and hoarded / And failed to share with kith and kin (they comprised / The biggest crowd).” Betrayers, liars, violators of oaths.
And who makes it to the Elysian Fields, “the Groves of the Fortunate Ones who dwell in Joy”? Great heroes who suffered for their country, poets, artists and creators, those “Remembered for a life spent serving others”. In sum, it is where Seamus Heaney has gone to find Virgil and his Latin teacher, Father Michael McGlinchey.
February 25, 2017
10. Aeneid Book VI : A New Verse Translation, Bilingual Edition by Virgil, translated by Seamus Heaney
published: 19 bce, unfinished.
translation: published 2016, Heaney passed away 2013
format: 97 page hardcover, Latin on left, English translation on the right. 52 pages had English.
acquired: Barnes & Noble, January
read: Feb 19-20
rating: 4
Stumbled across this and it seems like a perfect opportunity to both read Heaney in an approachable manner and check on another translation besides Robert Fagles. Also, I kind of like that it has the Latin. It's the right book to experiment with in this way, because book vi is really enjoyable.
I read Heaney slower and his translation is nice. This book meant a lot to him. I had forgotten a lot of the quirks while "suffering" through books 7-12 with Fagles. I can't say Heaney changed the book for me, this was no "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer", per Keats. But it was certainly worth the bit of time I put into it. I think one conclusion I can make is that Fagles did ok.
published: 19 bce, unfinished.
translation: published 2016, Heaney passed away 2013
format: 97 page hardcover, Latin on left, English translation on the right. 52 pages had English.
acquired: Barnes & Noble, January
read: Feb 19-20
rating: 4
Stumbled across this and it seems like a perfect opportunity to both read Heaney in an approachable manner and check on another translation besides Robert Fagles. Also, I kind of like that it has the Latin. It's the right book to experiment with in this way, because book vi is really enjoyable.
I read Heaney slower and his translation is nice. This book meant a lot to him. I had forgotten a lot of the quirks while "suffering" through books 7-12 with Fagles. I can't say Heaney changed the book for me, this was no "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer", per Keats. But it was certainly worth the bit of time I put into it. I think one conclusion I can make is that Fagles did ok.
November 2, 2022
Heaney's version actually reflects the original (unlike his adaptations of Sophocles), but it is not Vergil. Part of that is the English language vs. Latin. Heaney has written good poetry and largely translates the Latin, but uses 1222 lines to Vergil's 901. Good poetry, but lacking the concision and elegance of Latin. I found myself constantly looking at the Latin on the facing page and finding it far superior.
In the brief introduction Heaney notes a fundamental problem that he and modern readers are likely to have. He finds the catalogue of Roman heroes at the end boring and imperialistic. Well, duh, it was an empire. But more than that, this was the central and perhaps most important part to a Roman reader. Noble Roman families paraded busts of distinguished ancestors at funerals. Roman literature is full of exempla from the past to illustrate virtutes Romanae. As a society we mostly don't value tradition; the Romans did.
If you like Heaney's poetry or can't read Latin, this remains a very good version.
In the brief introduction Heaney notes a fundamental problem that he and modern readers are likely to have. He finds the catalogue of Roman heroes at the end boring and imperialistic. Well, duh, it was an empire. But more than that, this was the central and perhaps most important part to a Roman reader. Noble Roman families paraded busts of distinguished ancestors at funerals. Roman literature is full of exempla from the past to illustrate virtutes Romanae. As a society we mostly don't value tradition; the Romans did.
If you like Heaney's poetry or can't read Latin, this remains a very good version.
July 5, 2016
As soon as I heard this was going to be published, I had it on my "must get" list. I got my copy the day it was released and just sat down last evening to read it. It exceeded my expectations, which is a hard thing given that my "levels" were set based on Heaney's wondrous translation of Beowulf.
The text was stunning in its beats and pace, effortlessly pulling me from the opening line through to the last word. I loved that the Latin text was on the facing page. I tried to read words here and there, surprising myself at times, and increasing my desire to learn Latin more fully.
What a translator Heaney was. To make the story come alive in a different tongue, and to excite in me the interest to learn the original language. I don't know if a translator can receive a higher honor.
The text was stunning in its beats and pace, effortlessly pulling me from the opening line through to the last word. I loved that the Latin text was on the facing page. I tried to read words here and there, surprising myself at times, and increasing my desire to learn Latin more fully.
What a translator Heaney was. To make the story come alive in a different tongue, and to excite in me the interest to learn the original language. I don't know if a translator can receive a higher honor.
April 3, 2016
Absolutely terrific. I will echo the sentiments of many others since this was released, "If ONLY he'd translated the whole of the Aeneid! It would have been the best translation probably ever!". Except, it might not, as just this Book IV took 30+ years to become what it is today. What it is, is a masterpiece. It doesn't get much more exciting than having one of the best poets of our age, with great passion and love for this work, take on one of the greatest ever poems and imbuing it with the great sense of lyrical movement and poetic insight that I'm starting to think only Heaney could. I definitely won't adjust the five star rating to compensate for the lack of the other eleven books! It's an aching tragedy in some sense, but what gratitude I feel!
April 26, 2016
When I first read that Heaney had finished book IV of the Aeneid as homage to his late Latin professor and his late father, I pined for the day I would be able to read it.
It didn't disappoint. It perfectly brings Latin into English (if such a thing is possible) in the same way his Beowulf brought Anglo-Saxon into English. Lofty words—intermittently used among Anglo-Saxon/Englishy words—stand out like noble Roman virtues from a bygone time. While I think Ferry's rendering of Anchises' discussion with Aeneas is superior, this book is—on the whole—the best English version of the Aeneid I've read, which is a shame, because Heaney only did 1/12 of the epic.
It didn't disappoint. It perfectly brings Latin into English (if such a thing is possible) in the same way his Beowulf brought Anglo-Saxon into English. Lofty words—intermittently used among Anglo-Saxon/Englishy words—stand out like noble Roman virtues from a bygone time. While I think Ferry's rendering of Anchises' discussion with Aeneas is superior, this book is—on the whole—the best English version of the Aeneid I've read, which is a shame, because Heaney only did 1/12 of the epic.
May 6, 2016
I just finished my first reading of Heaney's translation of Aeneid Book VI, and it is truly magnificent. I shall have to read through it many more times to really appreciate it fully, I suspect. Seamus Heaney had a rare gift with the English language, as Publius Vergilius Maro had with Latin. It is enough to make one wish that he had undertaken to render all of the Aeneid in translation . . .
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November 4, 2018Un minuto di silenzio per celebrare la grandezza dell'Avia Pervia, che ha salvato generazioni di studenti di lettere.
December 8, 2023
read this for my course and i feel like i would have appreciated it more if i knew more about the aeneid, but it was good!
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