Martin Armstrong, starting the second fifty as he started the first, asks for a translation, free or otherwise, this time from the Spanish of Cervantes’ Don Quixote (although it can be free, it has to keep the ‘compactness’):
Guy Payan Dawnay
Heber and Valimus carry off the prizes, although R. Hartman, noting that the competition does not specify into which language the original Spanish had to be translated, submits a poem in a made up language (well, I think it’s made up!), which Amstrong drily quotes. Among the nearly-there-but-not-quite is a “Guy T. Pawnay”, which I suspect is a misprint for Guy P. Pawnay (1878-1952) – Pawnay was a soldier who was widely thought of as having been Allenby’s greatest strategist in Palestine, and as having been the first to suggest the evacuation of Gallipoli in the wake of disaster. Another name commended is that of C.D.Shafto, who seems quite possibly the Cambridge University ‘stroke’ of 1877 in the ‘dead heat’ Boat Race. (Always frustrating that these things can’t be proved, but there is no Guy T. Pawnay in the births marriages and deaths, and only one C.D.Shafto.)
51B asks for a combination of Pope and Bradshaw. I am just old enough to recall a Bradshaw (the last one printed was in 1961), and – incredible though it may seem to a generation raised on Super-Advance Savers and thetrainline.com – you used to be able to purchase a book, annually, naturally with addenda, that told you how to get from A to B on the railway system, and at what times the trains departed. (Bradshaw himself, who died in 1853, but whose name lingered on, since it had been his idea, might well have been surprised.) There was also a ‘Continental Bradshaw’ that enabled you to get around Europe, or, as Armstrong notes, to travel Europe without leaving your armchair. He asks for twelve lines of heroic couplets in the style of Pope on this theme.
There are two winners, again both new to the competition pages, Modin and H.A.V.R. (another individual whose initials may be easy to decode); however Armstrong also prints the best poem (as against parody) by yet another new name, ‘Wanderlust’, although it doesn’t win any cash:
A 1913 Continental Bradshaw