The Poets' Poem I:31

It is 28 B.C. Horace composes a poem for the dedication of the new temple to Apollo on Palatine Hill. He gives no long, flowery poem, but Gettysberg-like, he writes a few words on praying not for riches but for paratis the things he needs, for valido good health, and mente integra his mind intact.

The Temple of Apollo on Palatine Hill is gone. It looked like this, they say.

It was grand. It was imperial. It was to last forever. But its marble was carted off long ago and sleeps now in the foundations of countless Roman houses.

Apollo is gone, too. His attributes morphed, I suppose, into the stories of some early saint, his prayers hidden in the muttered words of feast days. 

Nothing ever completely dies.

But back in 28, there was no thought of anything dying. Horace descends the great marble steps and says to the rich and powerful, who have spent vast sums for this temple: I will not ask for more. Instead, grant me, O Latoüs-Apollo, my cithara—that I may continue to be a poet—and my simple fare: my olives, my endive, and my mallow."  Mallow? Yes. Its leaves are great for constipation!

This took veri testicules—de vrais petits témoins.

 My prose rendition:

Quid vates Apollinum dedicatum poscit? 

Quid [vates] liquidem novum de patera fundens orat? —non segetes feraces Sardiniae opimae, non armenta grata Calabriae aestuosae, non aurum aut ebur Indicum, non rura quae Liris, amnis taciturnus, aqua quieta mordet. 

[Ii] quibus Fortuna [res bonas] dedit, vitem falce Calena premant. Et mercator dives ‹vina merce Syra reparata› culillis aureis exsiccet. [Mercator est] dis ipsis carus, quippe impune ter et quater anno aequor Atlanticum revisens. 

Me olivae pascunt, me cichorea ‹malvaeque leves› [pascunt]. 

Et precor, [o] Latoe, ‹mihi valido paratis frui› et ‹cum mente integra degere› dones, nec senectam turpem nec [senectam] cithara carentem.

[revised March 27,2015]

opimae: fertilis

segetes feraces: campos fertiles

Calabriae: nomen paeninsulae in Italia

armenta" pecus sub iugo

Liris: nomen amnis in Latio, hodie est Garigliano

exsiccet; videt bibendo

falce: sickle

vitem: vine

culillis: poculis

quippe: sane, certo

pascunt: nutriunt

Latoe: nomen Apollonis, matrinomicon Apollonis, id est: Lato [Λητω] nomen matris Apollonis est.

degere: vivere

English translation: http://ancienthistory.about.com/library/bl/bl_text_horace_odes1.htm

Traduction en français: http://agoraclass.fltr.ucl.ac.be/concordances/horace_OdesI/ligne05.cfm?numligne=164&mot=dedicatum

Quid dēdicātum poscit Apollinem

vātēs? quid ōrat, dē paterā novum

   fundēns liquōrem? nōn opīmae

        Sardiniae segetēs ferācēs,

nōn aestuōsae grāta Calābriae

armenta, nōn aurum aut ebur Indicum,

   nōn rūra, quae Līris quiētā

        mordet aquā taciturnus amnis.

premant Calēnā falce quibus dedit

Fortūna vītem, dīves et aureīs

   mercātor exsīccet culillīs

        vīna Syrā reparāta merce,

dīs cārus ipsīs, quippe ter et quater

annō revīsēns aequor Atlanticum

   impūne: mē pascunt olīvae,

        mē cichorēa levēsque mālvae.

fruī parātīs et validō mihi,

Lātōe, dōnēs, et^{[at, ac]}, precor, intěgrā

   cum mente, nec turpem senectam

        dēgere nec citharā carentem.

:: Latin books by James Rumford ::

For all 102 odes purchase Carpe Diem, Horace De-Poetized, for $11.50 at 

https://www.amazon.com/Carpe-Diem-Poetized-James-Rumford/dp/1891839179/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479932219&sr=8-1&keywords=Carpe+Diem+Rumford. 

For a Latin translation of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer at $12, click here: 

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Pericla+Thomae+Sawyer

To find out more about Carpe Diem go to the blog of March 26, 2015; 

for more about Pericla Thomae Sawyer, go to the blog of November 22, 2016.

Thy Will Be Done I:24

Quintilius Varo, the literary critic, has died.  It is the year 24 B.C. The literatti  of Rome mourn. Among them is Virgil. Horace writes this poem to comfort him.

Everything in this eulogy-like poem is as you would expect: 

caput tam carum, dearly departed; 

cantus lugubres, sad songs; 

sapor perpetuus, perpetual sleep;

multis flebilis bonis, with many deserving tears. 

But then something a bit unexpected:

tu frustra pius heu non ita creditum

poscis Quintilium deos

Meaning: Virgil, as pious as you were in asking the gods to take care of Quintilius, you did not mean for them to keep him. Total trust in the gods means total trust, whatever the outcome. Reminds me of a friend writing about her childhood struggles being a Christian, "Thy will be done . . . . but not just yet, Lord." Or it reminds me of the joke of the man with one crippled hand, praying: "Make both my hands the same" and angry at the outcome.

Thus is the Will of Heaven. For this, Horace counsels patientia.

I can't help but think of Hafiz and other Persian poets writing in the shade of monotheism—I say 'shade' because, as a Muslim explained to me just yesterday, on Judgment Day, Allah will be the only refuge from the burning, consuming sun. As for the Will of Heaven, the turning Wheel of Heaven, Hafiz like Horace counsels صبر patience and adds for good measure:  می نوش drink wine! I have a feeling the infidel Horace would have agreed.

Here is a bit of Hafiz:

مزرع سبز فلک ديدم و داس مه نو يادم از کشته خويش آمد و هنگام درو گفتم ای بخت بخفتيدی و خورشيد دميد گفت با اين همه از سابقه نوميد مشو گر روی پاک و مجرد چو مسيحا به فلک از چراغ تو به خورشيد رسد صد پرتو تکيه بر اختر شب دزد مکن کاين عيار تاج کاووس ببرد و کمر کيخسرو گوشوار زر و لعل ار چه گران دارد گوش دور خوبی گذران است نصيحت بشنو چشم بد دور ز خال تو که در عرصه حسن بيدقی راند که برد از مه و خورشيد گرو آسمان گو مفروش اين عظمت کاندر عشق خرمن مه به جوی خوشه پروين به دو جو آتش زهد و ريا خرمن دين خواهد سوخت حافظ اين خرقه پشمينه بينداز و برو

I saw the green fields of heaven

the sickle moon

And remembered my own field

at harvest time

I said, Fate, you have overslept 

the sun is up

She said, Don't despair over 

what's passed

If you go pure and naked 

like Christ to Heaven

From your lamp a hundred rays

will reach the sun

Don't lean on night-stealing stars 

for these impostors

Carried off the Kavus crown 

the Cyrus belt

Although gold and rubies hang 

heavy on your ears

Beauty's turn will end so listen

to this advice

Be far the evil eye from your mole which

on beauty's chessboard

Will move but one pawn to checkmate 

the sun and the moon

Tell the Heavens not to boast 

Love will buy

The harvest of the moon for a barley corn,

the Pleiades for two

The zealot's fire, the hypocrite's too will  

burn the harvest of religion

Hafiz, throw your woolen cloak away

and go!

[my translation]

The images Hafiz and Horace evoke are different. Their understanding of the cosmos is not the same. Hafiz speaks of a beautiful mole—perhaps True Beauty— that will best the sun and the moon on the chessboard of fate. Horace sees no way around the fates. No Jesus, no beauty, no love.  Just Mercury raising high his caduceus (the doctors' emblem) and leading the dead in dark droves (nigro gregi) into Hell once and for all. No blood returning to the wax effigies of the departed. Nothing but patientia. 

But what does that word really mean? Not aequitas animi, a calmness of mind, but tolerantia, endurance, and animus submissus, resignation. Patientia, after all, comes from patior, I suffer, I undergo. 

The last lines of the poem might mean then (only Hawaiian pidgin English comes to mind):

durum, sed levius fit patientiâ

quicquid corrigere est nefas

Hard, yeah? Give'em up already. Later mo' easy

Wrong for change Heaven.

Here is my prose rendition.

Quis pudor aut modus desiderio capitis tam cari sit? 

Cantus lugubres praecipe, [o] Melpromene, cui pater vocem liquidam cum cithara dedit. 

Ergo, sopor perpetuus Quintilium urget! 

Cui [et] quando ‹pudor et soror iustitiae, fides incorrupta, veritasque nuda› ullum parem inveniet? Ille flebilis multis bonis occidit—nulli flebilior quam tibi, [o] Vergili. Frustra, tu pius—heu!—‹Quintilium non ita creditum› deos poscis! 

Quid si [tu] fidem arboribus auditam blandius Orpheo Threicio moderer[is]? Num sanguis redeat imagini vanae ‹quam Mercurius semel [cum] virga horrida gregi nigro compulerit›? Non [est] lenis fata [a] precibus recludere! Durum [est]! Sed ‹quicquid nefas est corrigere› patientia levius fit 

.[revised March 27, 2015]

desiderio: dolore (lucte) mortui

cari capitis: persona cara

Melpomene: musa tragoediae

flebilis: lacrimis

poscis: petis intente

pater: Iuppiter

praecipe: doce

blandius: gracilius

Threïco: Thracio

virga: ramo, bacillo; virga horrida:  caduceo Mercurii

recludere: aperire

nefas: contra voluntatem divinam

semel: uno tempore

fidem: lyram, citharam

vanae imagini: spiritui vacuo personae mortuae; statua cirea mortui

English translation: http://ancienthistory.about.com/library/bl/bl_text_horace_odes1.htm

Traduction en langue française: http://agoraclass.fltr.ucl.ac.be/concordances/horace_OdesI/ligne05.cfm?numligne=132&mot=Quis#debut

Quis dēsīderiō sit pudor aut modus

tam cārī capitis? praecipe lūgubrıs

cantūs, Melpomenē, cui liquidam pater

   vōcem cum citharā dedit.

ergo Quīntilium perpetuus sopor

urget! cui Pudor et Iustitiae soror,

incorrupta Fidēs, nūdaque Vēritās

   quandō ūllum inveniet parem?

multīs ille bonīs flēbilis occidit,

nūllī flēbilior quam tibi, Vergilī.

tū frustrā pius, hēu, nōn ita crēditum

   poscis Quīntilium deōs.

quid sī Thrēiciō blandius Orpheō

auditam moderēre arboribus fidem?

num vānae redeat sanguis imāginī,

   quam virgā semel horridā,

nōn lēnis precibus fāta reclūdere,

nigrō compulerit Mercurius gregī?

dūrum: sed levius fit patientia

    quicquid corrigere est nefas.  

:: Latin books by James Rumford ::

For all 102 odes purchase Carpe Diem, Horace De-Poetized, for $11.50 at 

https://www.amazon.com/Carpe-Diem-Poetized-James-Rumford/dp/1891839179/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479932219&sr=8-1&keywords=Carpe+Diem+Rumford. 

For a Latin translation of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer at $12, click here: 

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Pericla+Thomae+Sawyer

To find out more about Carpe Diem go to the blog of March 26, 2015; 

for more about Pericla Thomae Sawyer, go to the blog of November 22, 2016.

Oh, Mrs. Robinson! Uxor Pauperis Ibyci III:15

In this case, Oh, Mrs. Ibycus! 

Uxor Pauperis Ibyci is about a vetula, an old[er] woman named Chloris who still wants to cavort like her daughter Phloe. How old a woman? I don't know.  Maybe as old as Mrs. Robinson, who in Roman times would have been matura funeri, old enough to be buried. 

I wonder whether Horace, middle aged and in the same state, isn't using the old woman to talk about himself and poke fun at his own unseemliness. Maybe he, too, covers the bright stars of youth with the miasma of his old age. Maybe he can no longer keep up with the young goats. At his age, the only way he can be like a goat is to put on a wool cloak and sit in the corner, not dance to the cithara, garlanded in dark-colored roses and drinking his wine jars faece tenus—to the dregs.

Daniel Garrison, in his Horace: Epodes and Odes [1991], writes in his note about the vetula that "Horace may be suggesting a well-known Hellenistic statuette of a drunken old woman clinging to a wine jar, a Roman copy of which survives in Munich."  Here is a photo of that statue.

I mention Garrison also to point out a typographical error in his book:

expugnat iuvenem domos

instead of the correct

expugnat iuvenum domus.

This lapsus caused hours of grief, especially after my adventure with i-stems in yesterday's blog. The Latin Grammar Edifice in my mind is still sufferring aftershocks. Latin is no one's mother tongue. Who knows from errors? Errors might be variants or archaisms. They couldn't just be errors. If it is written in a book, it must be true, it must be right.  Another angle on scripta manent, I guess. Scripta manent et veritas fiunt. Writing remains and becomes the truth.

Here is my prose rendition:

[O Chlori], uxor Ibyci pauperis, tandem modum nequitiae tuae laboribusque famosis fige. [Tu] proprior ‹funeri maturo›, desine inter virgines ludere et nebulam stellis candidis spargere. 

Si quid Pholoen satis [decet], et te, [o] Chlori, non decet. filia rectius domos iuvenum expugnat—uti Thyias tympano pulso concita. Amor Nothi illam cogit similem capreae lascivae ludere. Lanae prope Luceriam nobilem tonsae te vetulam decent, non citharae nec flos purpureus rosae nec cadi faece tenus poti. 

[revised March 28, 2015]

Ibycus [Ιβυκοσ]: poeta Graecus

tandem: postremum

nequitiae: lasciviae

fige modum: fini

desine: omitte

maturo: tempore maturo

funeri: humari, sepeliri

expugnat: capit

concita: excitata

Thyias [θυιας]: a bacchante

Nothi: nomen amatoris

cogit: compellit

Luceriam: nomen urbis in Apulia, hodie Luceria

vetulam: femina vetus

cadi: jars

poti: bibiti

faece: dregs

tenus: iusque ad

English translation: http://ancienthistory.about.com/library/bl/bl_text_horace_odes3.htm

Traduction en français: http://agoraclass.fltr.ucl.ac.be/concordances/Horace_odesIII/ligne05.cfm?numligne=119&mot=te#debut

Vxor pauperis ībycī,

tandem nēquitiae fīge modum tuae

   fāmōsīsque labōribus;

mātūrō propior dēsine fūnerī

   inter lūdere virginēs

et stellīs nebulam spargere candidīs.

   nōn, sī quid Pholoēn satīs,

et tē, Chlori, decet. fīlia rectius

   expugnat^[expugnet] iuvenum domōs,

pulsō Thȳias utī concita tympanō.

   illam cōgit^[cogat] amor Nothī

lascīvae similem lūdere capreae:

   tē lānae prope nōbilem

tonsae Luceriam, nōn citharae decent

   nec flōs purpureus rosae

nec pōtī vetulam faece tenus cadī.

:: Latin books by James Rumford ::

For all 102 odes purchase Carpe Diem, Horace De-Poetized, for $11.50 at 

https://www.amazon.com/Carpe-Diem-Poetized-James-Rumford/dp/1891839179/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1479932219&sr=8-1&keywords=Carpe+Diem+Rumford. 

For a Latin translation of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer at $12, click here: 

https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Pericla+Thomae+Sawyer

To find out more about Carpe Diem go to the blog of March 26, 2015; 

for more about Pericla Thomae Sawyer, go to the blog of November 22, 2016.