A comparison of different translations of Augustine’s Confessions – “Late have I loved you”

Here is a famous passage from Augustine of Hippo’s The Confessions, book 10, chapter 27 (38):

Sero te amavi, pulchritudo tam antiqua et tam nova, sero te amavi! et ecce intus eras et ego foris, et ibi te quaerebam, et in ista formosa, quae fecisti, deformis inruebam. mecum eras, et tecum non eram. ea me tenebant longe a te, quae si in te non essent, non essent. vocasti et clamasti et rupisti surditatem meam: coruscasti, splenduisti et fugasti caecitatem meam: fragrasti, et duxi spiritum, et anhelo tibi, gustavi et esurio et sitio, tetigisti me, et exarsi in pacem tuam.

Of this passage, the British scholar Henry Chadwick noted: “Augustine’s Latin in this chapter is a work of high art.”

I’ll excerpt various English translations of the passage below. This isn’t necessarily a comprehensive list, but it should be close.

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Boulding, Maria (1997): Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you! Lo, you were within, but I outside, seeking there for you, and upon the shapely things you have made I rushed headlong, I, misshapen. You were with me, but I was not with you. They held me back far from you, those things which would have no being were they not in you. You called, shouted, broke through my deafness; you flared, blazed, banished my blindness; you lavished your fragrance, I gasped, and now I pant for you; I tasted you, and I hunger and thirst; you touched me, and I burned for your peace.

Bourke, Vernon (1953): Late have I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved thee! And behold, thou wert within and I was without. I was looking for thee out there, and I threw myself, deformed as I was, upon those well-formed things which thou hast made. Thou wert with me, yet I was not with thee. These things held me far from thee, things which would not have existed had they not been in thee. Thou didst call and cry out and burst in upon my deafness; thou didst shine forth and glow and drive away my blindness; thou didst send forth thy fragrance, and I drew in my breath, and now I pant for thee; I have tasted, and now I hunger and thirst; thou didst touch me, and I was inflamed with desire for thy peace.

Burke, Cormac (2012) (modernized Pusey): Too late loved I you, O you Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late I loved you! And behold, you were within, and I abroad, and there I searched for you; deformed I, plunging amid those fair forms which you had made. You were with me, but I was not with you. Things held me far from you, which, unless they were in you, were not at all. You called, and shouted, and burst my deafness. You flashed, shone, and scattered my blindness. You breathed odours, and I drew in breath and panted for you. I tasted, and hunger and thirst. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.

Burton, Philip (2001): Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you! Behold, you were within and I was without; and there I sought you, plunging unformed as I was into the fair things that you have formed and made. You were with me, and I was not with you. I was kept far from you by the things that would not have been, were they not in you. You called and cried aloud, and shattered my deafness; you flashed and blazed like lightning, and routed my blindness. You cast your fragrance, and I drew breath, yet pant for you; I tasted, yet hunger and thirst; you touched me, and I was on fire for your peace.

Chadwick, Henry (1991): Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you. And see, you were within and I was in the external world and sought you there, and in my unlovely state I plunged into those lovely created things which you made. You were with me, and I was not with you. The lovely things kept me far from you, though if they did not have their existence in you, they had no existence at all. You called and cried out loud and shattered my deafness. You were radiant and resplendent, you put to flight my blindness. You were fragrant, and I drew in my breath and now pant after you. I tasted you, and I feel but hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am set on fire to attain the peace which is yours.

Hammond, Carolyn J. B. (2016) (Loeb Classical Library): Late have I loved you, O Beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you! And look! You were within me, and I was outside myself: and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created: you were with me, but I was not with you. Those created things kept me far away from you: yet if they had not been in you, they would have not been at all. You called and shouted: and broke through my deafness. You flamed and shone: and banished my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me: and I drew in my breath and I pant for you. I have tasted you: and now I hunger and thirst for more. You have touched me: and I have burned for your peace.

O’Rourke, Benignus (2013): [At this time, O’Rourke has only translated Confessions books I-IX. He hasn’t translated books X-XIII. This quotation comes from Book X.]

Outler, Albert (1955): Belatedly I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new, belatedly I loved thee. For see, thou wast within and I was without, and I sought thee out there. Unlovely, I rushed heedlessly among the lovely things thou hast made. Thou wast with me, but I was not with thee. These things kept me far from thee; even though they were not at all unless they were in thee. Thou didst call and cry aloud, and didst force open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and didst chase away my blindness. Thou didst breathe fragrant odors and I drew in my breath; and now I pant for thee. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burned for thy peace.

Pilkington, J. G. (1886) (modernized at New Advent): Too late did I love thee, O Fairness, so ancient, and yet so new! Too late did I love thee! For behold, thou wert within, and I without, and there did I seek thee; I, unlovely, rushed heedlessly among the things of beauty thou madest. Thou wert with me, but I was not with thee. Those things kept me far from thee, which, unless they were in thee, were not. Thou calledst, and criedst aloud, and forcedst open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and chase away my blindness. Thou didst exhale odours, and I drew in my breath and do pant after thee. I tasted, and do hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burned for thy peace.

Pine-Coffin, R. S. (1961): I have learnt to love you late, Beauty at once so ancient and so new! I have learnt to love you late! You were within me, and I was in the world outside myself. I searched for you outside myself, and disfigured as I was, I fell upon the lovely things of your creation. You were with me, but I was not with you. The beautiful things of this world kept me far from you and yet, if they had not been in you, they would have had no being at all. You called me; you cried aloud to me; you broke the barrier of my deafness. You shone upon me; your radiance enveloped me; you put my blindness to flight. You shed your fragrance about me; I drew breath and now I gasp for your sweet odor. I tasted you, and now I hunger and thirst for you. You touched me, and I am inflamed with love of your peace.

Pusey, E. B. (1838): Too late loved I thee, O thou Beauty of ancient days, yet ever new! too late I loved thee! And behold, thou wert within, and I abroad, and there I searched for thee; deformed I, plunging amid those fair forms which thou hadst made. Thou wert with me, but I was not with thee. Things held me far from thee, which, unless they were in thee, were not at all. Thou calledst, and shoutedst, and burstest my deafness. Thou flashedst, shonest, and scatteredst my blindness. Thou breathedst odours, and I drew in breath and panted for thee. I tasted, and hunger and thirst. Thou touchedst me, and I burned for thy peace.

Ruden, Sarah (2017): I took too long to fall in love with you, beauty so ancient and so new. I took too long to fall in love with you! But there you were, inside, and I was outside—and there I searched for you, and into those shapely things you made, my misshapen self went sliding. You were with me, but I wasn’t with you. Those things, which wouldn’t exist unless they existed in you, held me back, far from you. You called and shouted and shattered my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you put my blindness to flight. You smelled sweet, and I drew breath, and now I pant for you. I tasted you, and now I’m starving and parched; you touched me, and I burst into flame with a desire for your peace.

Ryan, John Kenneth (1960): Too late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, too late have I loved you! Behold, you were within me, while I was outside: it was there that I sought you, and, a deformed creature, rushed headlong upon these things of beauty which you have made. You were with me, but I was not with you. They kept me far from you, those fair things which, if they were not in you, would not exist at all. You have called to me, and have cried out, and have shattered my deafness. You have blazed forth with light, and have shone upon me, and you have put my blindness to flight! You have sent forth fragrance, and I have drawn in my breath, and I pant after you. I have tasted you, and I hunger and thirst after you. You have touched me, and I have burned for your peace.

Sheed, Francis J. (1948): Late have I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new; late have I loved thee! For behold thou were within me, and I outside; and I sought thee outside and in my unloveliness fell upon those lovely things that thou hast made. Thou were with me and I was not with thee. I was kept from thee by those things, yet had they not been in thee, they would not have been at all. Thou didst call and cry to me and break open my deafness: and thou didst send forth thy beams and shine upon me and chase away my blindness: thou didst breathe fragrance upon me, and I drew in my breath and do pant for thee: I tasted thee, and now hunger and thirst for thee: thou didst touch me, and I have burned for thy peace.

Warner, Rex (1963): Late it was that I loved you, beauty so ancient and so new, late I loved you! And, look, you were within me and I was outside, and there I sought for you and in my ugliness I plunged into the beauties that you have made. You were within me, and I was not with you. Those outer beauties kept me far from you, yet if they had not been in you, they would not have existed at all. You called, you cried out, you shattered my deafness: you flashed, you shone, you scattered my blindness: you breathed perfume, and I drew in my breath and I pant for you: I tasted, and I am hungry and thirsty: you touched me, and I burned for your peace.

Williams, Thomas. (2019): Late have I loved you, beauty so ancient and so new! Late have I loved you! And behold, you were within, but I was outside and looked for you there, and in my ugliness I seized upon these beautiful things that you have made. You were with me, but I was not with you. Those things held me far away from you – things that would not even exist if they were not in you. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness; you flashed, you shone, and you dispersed my blindness; you breathed perfume, and I drew in my breath and pant for you; I tasted, and I hunger and thirst; you touched me, and I was set on fire for your peace.

Wills, Garry (2002): Slow was I, Lord, too slow in loving you. To you, earliest and latest beauty, I was slow in love. You were waiting within me while I went outside me, looking for you there, misshaping myself as I flung myself upon the shapely things you made. You were with me all the while I was not with you, kept from you by things that could not be except by being in you. You were calling to me, shouting, drumming on deaf ears. You thundered and lightninged, piercing my blindness. You shed a perfume—inhaling it, I pant for you. For your taste, I hunger and thirst. At your caress, I am feverish for satiation.

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Update:

1. I notice Tony Reinke has a comparison of several different English translations of Augustine’s Confessions using a different passage than the one I used.

2. Likewise, someone named “David” does as well here. David makes several good points.

3. A redditor named u/Kingshorsey writes:

I have read Confessions through in Latin and in most English translations, as well as taught the text in class, so I think I’m in a good place to give feedback, but it’s still a very subjective question.

Chadwick (Oxford) is an extremely solid choice. The translation is good, the notes are good but unobtrusive, the paperback is inexpensive.

Boulding is quite good. The New City Press edition is superb for scholarly work. It is, however, more bulky and expensive.

Sheed is very popular with some people. He really does turn a nice phrase at times. Somehow, this never caught on with me, but perhaps that’s because I encountered it after already getting quite attached to Chadwick.

Ruden’s recent rendering is quite daring. I wouldn’t recommend it for class, since it’s idiosyncratic and uneven, but if you’ve already read Confessions a few times, it’s useful to sort of shake you out of complacent familiarity.

One caveat. It depends on what purpose you want your translation to serve in the class. I personally prefer good colloquial translations to ones that hew extremely closely to the exact vocabulary and structure of the original. I guess you could say I prefer dynamic equivalence. So, I generally don’t use translations as a way of reverse-engineering grammar and syntax. Rather, I use them as illustrations of how to capture a sentiment in one language and render it authentically into another.

4. Phillip Cary:

This bibliography comes from the Teaching Company course on Augustine, 12 lectures on audiotape, by Professor Phillip Cary of Villanova.

____. Confessions. Trans. H. Chadwick. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991. The most learned translation with excellent scholarly notes.

____. Confessions and Enchiridion. Trans. A. Outler. Library of Christian Classics series. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1955. Clear, reliable translations.

____. Confessions. Trans. R.S. Pine-Coffin. Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin, 1961. Not a reliable translation. Best avoided.

____. Confessions. Trans. J.K. Ryan. New York: Doubleday, 1960. Pedestrian but reliable translation.

____. Confessions. Trans. F.J. Sheed. Revised edition. Indianapolis: Hackett, 1993. This translation does the best job with the electrifying high poetry of Augustine’s writing. Peter Brown’s wonderful introduction (in this edition only) almost makes up for the lack of explanatory notes.

____. Confessions. Trans. Rex Warner. New York: Mentor, 1963. This translation takes the prize for sheer clarity and readability but has no notes, not even Scripture references.

Brown, Peter. Augustine of Hippo. Berkeley: University of California, 1967. The biography everyone should read. It contains a magnificent evocation of Augustine’s social and historical world and detailed treatment of the evolution of his thinking.

5. Jared Ortiz:

Review of the Translations

Audio Versions: Let me commend this mode of engaging the Confessions for everyone but especially for those who might be intimidated by reading this ancient and, let us admit, very challenging work. Augustine’s culture was an oral culture. The Confessions were meant to heard, not read silently. Indeed, silent reading was an anomaly in Augustine’s time. Librivox, a free resource, has the Albert Outler (1955) and E.B. Pusey (1876) translations with readers of varying ability. Audible also has a dozen or so versions, also of varying quality (some are professional, some are not). On Audible, there are solid contemporary translations like Chadwick and Boulding, but for my money, I’d listen to a talented British actor like Simon Vance reading the venerable Pusey translation (Pusey was a friend of Newman and fellow leader in the 19th-century Catholic Movement in the Anglican Church).

Frank Sheed Translation (1942): Of Sheed and Ward Publishing fame, Sheed was a lawyer, publisher, and street corner evangelist for the Catholic Evidence Guild. To my ears, Sheed’s translation is the most beautiful English translation available. The same electric current that runs through Augustine’s original can be felt in this translation, which combines a slightly elevated style (more elevated in direct prayers) combined with the immediacy and transparency of a street preacher (not that different from Augustine’s own style). The latest edition includes an introduction by Peter Brown, the best biographer of Augustine, and notes and commentary by Michael Foley, a truly excellent reader of Augustine.

John K. Ryan Translation (1960): Ryan was a priest and philosophy professor at The Catholic University of America in the middle of the last century. Ryan’s translation is not always sonorous, but it is probably the most reliable English language text for studying the Confessions. In addition, Ryan’s notes are apt and illuminating and attentive to the philosophical dimensions of Augustine’s text. It was my preferred translation for the last decade until the new Williams translation (see below).

Henry Chadwick Translation (1991): This translation was, and still is, a great favorite among professors. Sir Henry Chadwick, an Anglican priest and very fine historian, was particularly attentive to Augustine’s philosophical background. In many ways, a solid and dependable translation, I have always found it a bit dry. This, I know, is heresy among my peers, but here I stand. I first read this translation as an undergrad and was unmoved. Upon visiting it again in later years, I found Augustine sounding somewhat like an Oxford don, though, again, my opinion on this matter is in the serious minority!

Maria Boulding Translation (1997): This translation has become a favorite among Catholics for Boulding’s readable and poetic prose, but also for her deep sympathies with Augustine’s spirituality. Sr. Maria was a cloistered Benedictine nun whose own devotion really shines through this translation. One can also find this translation with faithful Catholic commentary in the Ignatius Critical Edition series. Boulding’s translation is looser than others reviewed here, but it is also more accessible for that.

Garry Wills Translation (2008): This translation in the Penguin Classics edition has never really caught on and it is unfortunate. Wills, a prolific and well-regarded crank and scourge of traditional Catholicism, has produced a singular translation of the Confessions. For example, observe how Wills renders Augustine’s most famous line: “you made us tilted toward you, and our heart is unstable until stabilized in you.” This is a bold, strange, even jarring translation, and yet it exactly captures Augustine’s theology here. I have found this translation too odd to give to students, but it is definitely worth consulting and, for the long-time reader of the Confessions, it will provide a fresh take on a familiar text.

Benignus O’Rourke Translation (2016): One of the more surprising and, to me, moving translations of the Confessions comes from Fr. Benignus O’Rourke, the late Augustinian friar and spiritual writer. In the Introduction, O’Rourke tells the story of how as a teen he and a friend visited an Augustinian monk who gave them a popular life of Augustine to read, but lamented that there was no accessible text of the Confessions he could share with him. Sixty years later, a few years before he died, Fr. Benignus bequeathed us such a gift, a striking translation accessible to young people and edifying for everyone. His greatest innovation—which I find completely successful—was to lay out Augustine’s text as a poem. O’Rourke does not divide the text by meter, but by units of meaning. Sometimes he adds punctuation to Augustine’s long Latin sentences, while other times he simply breaks up those unwieldy lines into their component parts. The effect is remarkable in that each line becomes something understandable, easily graspable, and immediate. One weakness of the text—which is also an intentional strength—is that it covers only the first nine (of thirteen) books of the Confessions, the books where Augustine treats the narrative of his conversion. Those looking to do in-depth study should look elsewhere. But for those looking to be spiritually edified or to introduce someone to the Confessions, I recommend this translation above all others.

Sarah Ruden Translation (2017): Classicist, award-winning poet, and Quaker, Sarah Ruden has an impressive record. She has translated Virgil’s Aeneid and the Gospels (among other things) as well as written books on the theory of translation. Her translation of the Confessions has been hailed by foremost scholars and skewered by others. The translation has provoked strong reactions among readers and stronger counter-reactions from the translator. Much of this has to do with old debates about the translator’s task as well as prior attachments to cherished translations. Still, some of it is due to Ruden’s somewhat iconoclastic approach. She wants to give us an Augustine stripped of ecclesiastical baggage, of later systematizations, and give us an Augustine of the pulpit, an Augustine of the people, who eschewed the proud, isolated philosophers and immersed himself in the world of the unlearned. Most readers will be struck by the very first line where Ruden renders Dominus as “Master” rather than “Lord.” Whether our English word “master,” especially in light of our history of chattel slavery, conveys Augustine’s meaning better than “lord,” even with all its theological accretions, I leave readers to decide.

Thomas Williams Translation (2019): Williams is Episcopalian priest of the Diocese of Southwest Florida, Professor of Philosophy at the University of South Florida, and Canon Theologian at the Cathedral Church of St Peter in St Petersburg and, to my mind, has produced the best overall translation of Augustine’s Confessions to date. Williams is less bold than Wills and Ruden and less elevated than Sheed, but the overall effect of his translation is a clear, playful, and eminently beautiful rendering of Augustine’s text. Williams also makes one simple formatting change that greatly enhances the reading of the Confessions: he does not put quotation marks around Scripture passages and places the references to them (hundreds in the Confessions) in the margins. This has a remarkable effect for the reader, especially the long-time reader of the Confessions. In most translations, there are so many quotes and references that the reader is toggling back and forth between “quote” and “commentary” or between main text and footnote. But this is not at all how Augustine wrote (or dictated) the Confessions. Scripture was a part of him. Scripture flowed out from him as naturally as his own speech. He wasn’t “quoting” Scripture passages, but conforming his own words to the word of God so that they made one continuous sacrifice of praise. Williams’s translation captures the immediacy of Augustine’s prayer, the playfulness of his language, and (without striving too hard) the properly elevated poetry of the text. As priest and philosopher and an Anglican with a good sense of English, Williams understands Augustine from the inside. For the foreseeable future, this will be my go-to translation for the Confessions.

In conclusion

Those who know Latin should consult the invaluable (and free!) critical edition of the Latin text with superb commentary by James O’Donnell. The rest of us, though, will choose one of the translations discussed above. Which one depends on what the reader is looking for. In the end, each translation reviewed here has something to offer.