Cylchgronau Cymru

whether it be the more artificial form called the sex- problem," (as if anything so elemental as sex could be a problem,) or the variety which, in the language of the English country-side, consists in being lamb- struck." And here we may notice how thoroughly he is in accord with his fellow-workers in the field of Welsh prose literature, whether it be drama like Ble ma fa, or the short story as exemplified in those tales which the Beimiad has given us, or indeed in the novels of Daniel Owen. We may claim that we are now beginning to show to the world the one prime quality which distinguishes us from the English,-the most morbidly sentimental nation in Europe-namely, our ability to make a sufficiently interesting portrait of life without the cheap varnish of sexual sentimentality. We sometimes wonder whether Mr. Francis, when he first planned Change, was altogether delivered from this heavy convention. Lizzie Ann, whatever lighter relief she may give to the action, seems to have been intended for something more, and we feel strongly that, somehow or other, she has missed her destiny in the play. What was the role which she was first planned to play? It is quite plain that, as she is limned, she is not an essential part of the drama, and Change as a whole, would lose little by her exclusion. For this reason, we must pronounce Lizzie Ann to be the author's one artistic failure, one of those dramatic might-have-been's which pursue their ghost-like career through the works of even the best dramatists. Isaac Pugh the hard, rather small-hearted deacon, is another obvious example of the arrested develop- ment, but here it was undoubtedly a self-imposed restraint which prevented the full growth of this character. Unless we are much mistaken, Mr. Francis is reserving Isaac Pugh for a long and useful life in future plays. Those who have essayed this most difficult task of dramatic writing will fully appreciate the author's nice perception of artistic justice in the portrayal of Gwilym, whom the younger generation of rebels against the old conventions is apt to forget, when their turn comes to hold up a mirror to their countrymen. He is just the right dramatic corrective and foil to the rather hard and arid intellectualism which has pro- duced Lewis and John Henry, and which,-God forfend that it should ever dominate the rising drama of Wales I Certainly, Change is wonderfully free from it. We cannot here notice Mr. Francis' stage-craft, the excellence of which, to judge by some opinions expressed, already tends to overshadow the other virtues, nor can we here deal with the universality of Change as distinct from its purely Welsh appeal. We can only say in conclusion that we utterly fail to understand how Change, in common with Mr. Berry's and Mr. D. T. Davies's plays, succeeded in winning the Lord Howard de Walden prize, seeing that they are neither an imitation of Synge, nor do they contain one single moon-beam of that dear old quality, the Celtic glamour. J. W. J. Gruffydd. Translations from the Welsh." Francis Edwards. (Privately printed at the Chiswick Press.) Translations of poetry tend to become also a criticism of the poetry translated. The most vigilant of critics is at times tempted to slumber when reading compositions in his own tongue- lulled, perhaps, by the old familiar sounds, and still more by the old familiar phrases. Commonplace ideas in commonplace setting derive a kind of poetic charm from external associations-a charm which they do not intrinsically possess. Their glory is often a reflected glory, and is the creation of the reader rather than the artist. Hence all translations are a challenge. We are challenged to consider critically what we have hitherto accepted without question, and so to find a reason for our preferences and our dislikes. Sir Francis Edwards has rendered his readers a two-fold service in translating these poems. For not only is this handsome little volume a challenge to re-read these poems a little more carefully-it is also, indirectly, a criticism of the poems left out. The first impression created by the reading of the volume is that of surprise-surprise at the poems chosen and a still greater surprise at the strange omissions. And the translator must have been governed in his selection by the tractability or other- wise of his material. There are doubtless many omissions which can be explained only on the ground that the translator found them untranslatable and a poem untranslatableness must be accounted unto it for righteousness. The best poetry must always from its very nature be untranslatable. This, perhaps explains why the names of the most considerable and the most representative modern Welsh poets are not to be found in the volume. This impression is strengthened when we come to read the translations, for the translator has been most successful where there is least merit in the originals. In fact it may be said that he has considerably improved on the original in many cases, and some living poets should look upon Sir Francis as a bene- factor in that he has taken up some abortions of their