Beatus Ille

no copyright infringement intended
(http://tasduchao.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html)

Beatus ille (blessed the one) - I found it with slight verbiage variations in three places, each one giving to these words a different meaning, while each one is a statement on the principle of happiness.

In the First Psalm, beatus vir (blessed the man) states the happiness according to the Abrahamic monotheism: beatus vir qui non abiit in consilio impiorum (Vulgata) / blessed is the man that walketh not in the council of the anybody (King James Bilble) - interesting English rendering, anybody could be for you a reason to loose the right path, stay far away, blind to temptations.

It is then heureux qui comme Ulyse, the principle of happiness according to Ulysses paradigm (and I am talking here about the Homeric hero: Joyce gave a splendid paraphrase, while also Ibsen's Peer Gynt is a paraphrase): heureux qui, comme Ulyse, a fait un beau voyage... et puis est retourné... vivre entre ses parents le reste de son âge / happy the man who, like Ulysses, went sailing afar... then returned... amonst his own, to live and die content / fericit cel care, ca si Ulise oarecand... traind mai apoi impreuna cu parintii sai pe vecie (Joachim du Bellay - Le Beau Voyage). And another Abrahamic text comes maybe to mind here (this time from Luke's Gospel): the Return of the Prodigal Son.

And it is beatus ille, the balanced view on advancing toward a possible, maybe improbable, happiness, through the reality of our conflicting interests and passions - the view that Horace gives in his Second Epode:

Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
ut prisca gens mortalium,
paterna rura bubus exercet suis
solutus omni faenore
neque excitatur classico miles truci
neque horret iratum mare
forumque vitat et superba civium
potentiorum limina.
ergo aut adulta vitium propagine
altas maritat populos
aut in reducta valle mugientium
prospectat errantis greges
inutilisque falce ramos amputans
feliciores inserit
aut pressa puris mella condit amphoris
aut tondet infirmas ovis.
vel cum decorum mitibus pomis caput
Autumnus agris extulit,
ut gaudet insitiva decerpens pira
certantem et uvam purpurae,
qua muneretur te, Priape, et te, pater
Silvane, tutor finium.
libet iacere modo sub antiqua ilice,
modo in tenaci gramine:
labuntur altis interim ripis aquae,
queruntur in Silvis aves
frondesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
somnos quod invitet levis.
at cum tonantis annus hibernus Iovis
imbris nivisque conparat,
aut trudit acris hinc et hinc multa cane
apros in obstantis plagas
aut amite levi rara tendit retia
turdis edacibus dolos
pavidumque leporem et advenam laqueo gruem
iucunda captat praemia.
quis non malarum quas amor curas habet
haec inter obliviscitur?
quodsi pudica mulier in partem iuvet
domum atque dulcis liberos,
Sabina qualis aut perusta Solibus
pernicis uxor Apuli,
sacrum vetustis exstruat lignis focum
lassi Sub adventum viri
claudensque textis cratibus laetum pecus
distenta siccet ubera
et horna dulci vina promens dolio
dapes inemptas adparet:
non me Lucrina iuverint conchylia
magisve rhombus aut scari,
siquos Eois intonata fluctibus
hiems ad hoc vertat mare,
non Afra avis descendat in ventrem meum,
non attagen Ionicus
iucundior quam lecta de pinguissimis
oliva ramis arborum
aut herba lapathi prata amantis et gravi
malvae salubres corpori
vel agna festis caesa Terminalibus
vel haedus ereptus lupo.
has inter epulas ut iuvat pastas ovis
videre properantis domum,
videre fessos vomerem inversum boves
collo trahentis languido
positosque vernas, ditis examen domus,
circum renidentis Laris.'
haec ubi locutus faenerator Alfius,
iam iam futurus rusticus,
omnem redegit idibus pecuniam,
quaerit kalendis ponere.

(http://www.thelatinlibrary.com/horace/ep.shtml)

Here is what the Hachette edition from 1911 has to say about the Second Epode:

Frais et gracieux éloge de la vie champêtre… dans la bouche d’Alfius, un usurier à qui son amour de la campagne ne fait perdre de vue ni ses créances, ni le remploi de ses capitaux. Mais, ceci, nous le savons qu’à la fin ; et les derniers vers, qui nous l’apprennent, font épigramme, sans transformer la pièce en satire : non seulement ils n’enlèvent à la description et au sentiment rien de leur charme et de leur vérité, mais il n’est pas dit qu’Horace entende contester la sincérité d’Alfius ; il est plus digne d’un moraliste comme lui d’avoir montré la complication, parfois amusante comme ici, du cœur de l’homme, le conflit de nos goûts et de nos intérêts, et d’avoir su en tirer une idylle qui se termine par une point d’esprit. – Sénaire et quaternaire ïambiques. – Date inconnue : probablement vers l’an 37 AEC.

(Fresh and gracious praise of the pastoral life … in the mouth of Alfius, an usurer whose love of the countryside does not make losing sight of his credits, or of re-employment of its capital. But, we find this out only by the end; and the last lines of the epode, which tell us about, make an epigram, without transforming the poem into satire: not only they don’t erase at the description and feeling anything of their charm and truth, but it doesn’t result that Horace would intend to dispute the of Alfius; it is worthier for a moralist like him to show the complications, sometimes amusing like here, of the human heart, the conflict of our tastes and our interests, and to know how to draw from it an idyll which ends in a flash of wit. – Senary and quaternary iambic. – unknown date: probably towards year 37 BCE)

The fellow's worth a fortune who, far
from commerce, cultivates his fathers'
farm with his own oxen & is free
of usury -- like the folk of yore.

No soldier, summoned to battle by the bugle
or fearful of a fuming sea,
no plaintiff or haunter of the haughty portals
of especially-powerful citizens
is the man who marries mature growths
of grape to poplars he's pampered
or watches over his wandering herd
bellowing in lonely bottomlands
while he saws away worthless scions
& engrafts the gainful
or hoards
honey from the comb into clean containers
or shears his compliant sheep.

As Autumn hoists its head, adorned with
fleshy fruits, through fields,
he gloats, gathering prize pears
& grapes purpler than the pigment
to pay you, Priapus, & you sir,
Silvanus, protector of property.
The bliss of napping beneath an old oak
or on a luxuriant lawn
while water wends between wide banks
& birds whine in the woods
& fountains fret with splashing spray --
a summons to soft slumbers!

When wintry weather threatens with thunder,
storms & snow, he speeds
into snares (from all sides) boars
battling a horde of hounds
or suspends from slender staves the webbing
widened to fool feeding
figpeckers and ropes the frightened rabbit
& drifting crane (a delicacy!).

Living that life, who wouldn't ignore
the ills latent in love?

Should a faithful wife do her fair share
helping with the home & cherished
children (a Sabine, say, or the sunburned
bride of an assiduous Apulian)
and stack seasoned timber on the hearth
for her tired husband's return
and pen yielding ewes within pleachwork
to drain their distended udders
and, ladling a lively vintage from the vat,
prepare an unpurchased repast --

I'd freely forego the finest oyster
or flounder or scaurfish forced
to these waters when winter blasts
bolts on Eastern breakers.
African fowl & Greek game-hens hardly
would settle into my stomach
happier than the odd olive, harvested
from the orchard's oiliest offshoot
or meadow-dwelling sourdock & mallows
(medicine for a body's burdens)
or a lamb slain for a farmers' festival
or a friskling whisked from a wolf.

How felicitous at such feasts to see fattened
flocks hurrying homeward,
bone-weary bulls with nodding necks
pulling an upended plough,
& the worker-bees of a wealthy abode: slaves
stationed near smiling cult-statues!

So spoke Alfius, a financier,
bent on becoming a bumpkin.
Midway through the month, he cashed his capital --
to float it again on the first.

(http://www.stoa.org/diotima/anthology/quinn.shtml)

Dichoso aquél que alejado de los negocios,
como la antigua raza de los hombres,
dedica su tiempo a trabajar
los campos paternos con los bueyes,
libre de toda deuda,
y no se despierta
como los soldados
con el toque de diana amenazador,
ni tiene miedo
a los ataques del mar,
que evita el foro
y los soberbios palacios
de los ciudadanos poderosos.

(http://tasduchao.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html)

(Horace)

Ut Pictura Poesis

Sofonisba Anguissola, Selfportrait, 1556
(Selfportrait at the easel, painting a devotional scene)
Łańcut Castle
no copyright infringement intended
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Self-portrait_at_the_Easel_Painting_a_Devotional_Panel_by_Sofonisba_Anguissola.jpg)

Ut pictura poesis; erit quae, si propius stes,
te capiat magis, et quaedam, si longius abstes;
haec amat obscurum, uolet haec sub luce uideri,
iudicis argutum quae non formidat acumen;
haec placuit semel, haec deciens repetita placebit.

(http://www.thelatinlibrary.com/horace/arspoet.shtml)

I came to the Horatian stanzas while reading a book by Pamuk: The Naive and the Sentimental Novelist. I bought the book last Sunday and I started reading it, leaving aside other books. It puts Horatian stanzas in paradox.

Pamuk used in his book the English rendering of Ars Poetica given by D.A.Russell. I'll give you here the version of A.S.Kline:

Poetry’s like painting: there are pictures that attract
You more nearer to, and others from further away.
This needs the shadows, that to be seen in the light,
Not fearing the critic’s sharp eye: this pleased once,
That, though examined ten thousand times, still pleases.

Is literature a painting made of words? Ut Pictura Poesis: Pamuk follows here Lessing who says in Laocoön that painting is a synchronic art operating with space while poetry is diachronic and operates on time.

W.J.T.Mitchell says it bluntly, we tend to think that to compare poetry with painting is to make a metaphor, while to differentiate poetry from painting is to state a literal truth.

Then what about music? I think we should be very careful, each artwork creates a universe: an illusory world in which time and space are ultimately equivalent, because of the relations, among places in space, among moments in time, that's what matters, and these relations are of the same nature.

Here is a Romanian rendering of the Horatian stanza:

Ca si pictura-i poema; te-atrage vreuna de-aproape,
Alta te-ncanta mai mult daca stai s-o privesti de departe;
Una prefera intuneric; alta voieste lumina,
Ne-nspaimantata deloc de parerea acerbului critic;
Una odata-a placut, insa alta mereu o sa placa.

(trad de Ionel Marinescu, Ed. Univers, Bucuresti, 1970)

(Horace)

(Pamuk)

Persicos Odi

Persicos Odi (Ode I 38), concludes Horace's first Book of Odes. Was he a Persian hater? Well, no.

In other odes Horace recommends the very same roses and oriental perfumes which he rejects in ode 1.38! A poet is under no obligation to be consistent (Michael Gilleland)

One hesitates to take Persicos odi too seriously. If the odes which conclude the other books are parallel cases, it might be an elaborate leg-pull. Book II concludes with Horace's grotesque metamorphosis into a swan as he prepares to song the Roman Odes, and Book III ends with a self-tribute so stupendous that of late it has been called diffident if not mock-serious.

(JSTOR)

Here is what the Hachette edition has to say:

Sous la forme d’une recommandation à son esclave-échanson, Horace affirme son goût pour la simplicité dans cette petite pièce parfaitement appropriée à son but puisqu’elle est simple et brève, et d’ailleurs très poétique. Strophe saphique. Date inconnue, peut-être en l’an 30 AEC, après Actium, en tout cas, écrite à l’automne.

(In the form of a recommendation to its slave-wine waiter, Horace affirms his taste for simplicity in this small piece of poetry perfectly appropriate to its goal as it is simple and short, and very poetic anyway. Saphic stanza. Date unknown, perhaps in 30, BCE after Actium, in any case, written during autumn)

Persicos odi, puer, apparatus;
displicent nexae philyra coronae;
mitte sectari rosa quo locorum
sera moretur.

Simplici myrto nihil adlabores
sedulus curo; neque te ministrum
dedecet myrtus neque me sub arta
uite bibentem.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm138.htm)

(video by Scorpio Martianus)

A crib authored by Michael Gilleland:

Boy, I dislike Persian finery;
garlands sewn with bast displease me;
don't try to find out in what spot the
late-blooming rose lingers.

I don't want you busily embellishing
plain myrtle; myrtle isn't
unsuitable, either for you as you serve or
for me as I drink beneath the trellised vine.

Also Michael Gilleland offers many English versions. I would present from his page two or three parodies. Here you go:

Boy, I detest the Persian pomp;
I hate those linden-bark devices;
And as for roses, holy Moses!
They can't be got at living prices!
Myrtle is good enough for us,--
For you, as bearer of my flagon;
For me, supine beneath this vine,
Doing my best to get a jag on!

Eugene Field (1850-1895)

Davus, I detest
Persian decoration;
Roses and the rest,
Davus, I detest.
Simple myrtle best
Suits our modest station:--
Davus, I detest
Persian decoration.

Austin Dobson (1840-1924)

I do not share the common craze
For food with jazzy singers;
Boy, tell me not of cabarets,
Where the late loophound lingers.

A glass of home brew cool and clear
Wets down my home-cooked victuals;
So long as I can have my beer,
I'll gladly miss the skittles.

Keith Preston (1884–1927)

and to conclude, an anonymous distich:

Persicos odi, puer, apparatus,
Bring me a chop and a couple of potatoes.

(Horace)

Carpe Diem

Giacomo Di Chirico - Quinto Orazio Flacco
1800
source: Gallery - Olio su tela: Omaggio a Giacommo Di Chiricco
no copyright infringement intended
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Quinto_Orazio_Flacco.jpg)

Ode 1.11 of Horace - here is what Hachette edition of the Odes says:

La superstition orientale, la croyance à l’astrologie, faisait à Rome des progrès, surtout parmi les femmes. Horace dissuade une d’elles d’interroger l’avenir dont la connaissance nous échappe, et lui conseille de goûter les biens de la vie, au jour le jour, sans trop compter sur le lendemain. Le nom de Leuconoé est probablement un nom supposé ; il n’y a d’ailleurs aucune importance à attacher à son sens étymologique λέυκόν νόυν (esprit candide, simple, faible) ; chez Pindare λέυκόιζ φράσϊ (Pyth. 4, 194) parait indiquer la malignité plutôt que la faiblesse d’esprit ; grand Asclépiade ; date probable 29 ou 26 AEC.

(The Eastern superstition, the belief in the astrology, made progress in Rome, especially among women. Horace dissuades one of them to question the future whose knowledge escapes to us, and advises her to taste the goods of the life, each day, without counting too much on what tomorrow would bring. The name of Leuconoe is probably a supposed one; there is of no good anyway to rely on its etymological sense; (spirit that is ingenuous, simple, weak); at Pindar (Pyth. 4,194) it appears to indicate the malignity rather than the weakness of spirit; asclepiad stanza; probable date 29 or 26 BCE)

Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi
finem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babylonios
temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati,
seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,
quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare
Tyrrhenum: sapias, uina liques, et spatio breui
spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit inuida
aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm111.htm)

I would conclude: scire nefas, quem finem di dederint - forbidden to know, what end the gods will give - and better, carpe diem - seize the day. That's, I think, what the Hachette edition says.

Well, Philosophy Blog has a different interpretation for this Ode: they view it as directed to a female love interest. And carpe diem should not be translated seize the day, rather be in the moment (in the Buddhist terms).


An English crib, by Michael Gilleland:

Don't ask (it's forbidden to know) what final fate the gods have
given to me and you, Leuconoe, and don't consult Babylonian
horoscopes. How much better it is to accept whatever shall be,
whether Jupiter has given many more winters or whether this is the
last one, which now breaks the force of the Tuscan sea against the
facing cliffs. Be wise, strain the wine, and trim distant hope within
short limits. While we're talking, grudging time will already
have fled: seize the day, trusting as little as possible in tomorrow.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm111.htm)

Now, keeping to the interpretation suggested in Philosophy Blog I will come a little bit to a Taiwanese movie that I watched some time ago. I didn't find time yet to comment it; I mention it now just for its title, which maybe would go well with Ode 1.11: Eat Drink Man Woman. In this reading, the Ode becomes Eat, Drink, Be Merry, and above all, Don't Be Coy. Now, of course, coyness shouldn't be a crime in principle, but, as you never know what tomorrow brings (it's up to the gods), you see? It becomes a crime to be shy and not fully respond to love... I wouldn't go on, just I invite you the read the whole comment from Philosophy Blog.

Michael Gilleland offers on his page a bunch of translation of the Ode into English:

http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm111.htm

And a French rendering, by Dennis Eyssart:

Ne cherche pas à savoir, Leuconoé, quelle fin les dieux ont assignée à l'un ou à l'autre. Cette connaissance nous est interdite. N'interroge plus ces nombres magiques venus de Babylone.

Comme il est préférable d'accepter ce qui doit arriver, que Jupiter nous accorde encore bien d'autres hivers, ou que notre dernier soit celui-ci qui voit maintenant la mer Tyrrhénienne déferler sur les brisants du rivage.

Tu ferais bien mieux de remplir nos coupes de vin léger et de réduire tes lointaines espérances à la mesure de notre courte durée.

Pendant que nous parlons, le temps jaloux a fui. Cueille donc le jour présent, sans trop te fier au lendemain.

(http://www.espace-horace.org/chx/odes/I_11.htm)

(Horace)

Nil Mortalibus Ardui Est

Nil mortalibus ardui est - There is nothing steep for mortals - Rien ne saurait rester hors d'atteinte aux mortels - superb Horatian line - it was the only annotation a great-uncle of mine has made on the Book of Odes.

Truth is that Horace used it in his Ode 1.3 to critic the audacity of people: caelum ipsum petimus stultitia (we attack heaven itself with stupidity). I would keep though with my great-uncle: Nil mortalibus ardui est - Audentis Fortuna iuvat!

Here is what I found in the Hachette edition of the Odes:

Virgile allait visiter Athènes; Horace s’adresse au vaisseau qui doit emporter son ami et demande aux dieux une heureuse traversée; puis, il blâme Mévius (ennemi de Virgile) qui fut assez téméraire pour affronter la mer et les naufrages et, d’une manière générale, l’imprudence humaine qui provoque à plaisir la colère céleste; distiques formés d’un glyconique et d’un asclépiade mineur; date – on ne connait de voyage à Athènes fait par Virgile que celui de l’an 19 ; or, le premier livre des Odes est antérieur de quatre années à cette date ; on a proposé diverses explications ; il parait naturel de supposer que Virgile, lorsqu’il se décida à entreprendre ce voyage , en nourrissait le projet depuis plusieurs années et que, antérieurement à l’an 24 il fut sur le point de partir ; ce serait alors que l‘Ode aurait été composée.

(Virgil was going to visit Athens; Horace is addressing the vessel which must carry his friend and asks the gods for a happy crossing; then he blames Mevius (an enemy of Virgil) which was enough bold to face the sea and the shipwrecks and, generally, the human imprudence which causes with pleasure celestial anger; distiches made of a Glyconic line and a minor Asclepiad; date – the only known voyage to Athens made by Virgil is that of year 19; however, the first book of the Odes came four years erlier to this date; various explanations were proposed; it appears natural to suppose that Virgil, before deciding to undertake this voyage, had nourished the project for several years and even that, before the year 24, he was about to leave; it would be that year when the Ode would have been written)

Sic te diva potens Cypri,
sic fratres Helenae, lucida sidera,
ventorumque regat pater
obstrictis aliis praeter Iapyga,

navis, quae tibi creditum
debes Vergilium; finibus Atticis
reddas incolumem, precor,
et serves animae dimidium meae.

Illi robur et aes triplex
circa pectus erat, qui fragilem truci
commisit pelago ratem
primus, nec timuit praecipitem Africum

decertantem Aquilonibus
nec tristis Hyadas nec rabiem Noti,
quo non arbiter Hadriae
maior, tollere seu ponere vult freta.

Quem mortis timuit gradum
qui siccis oculis monstra natantia,
qui vidit mare turbidum et
infamis scopulos, Acroceraunia?

Nequiquam deus abscidit
prudens Oceano dissociabili
terras, si tamen impiae
non tangenda rates transiliunt vada.

Audax omnia perpeti
gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas.
Audax Iapeti genus
ignem fraude mala gentibus intulit.

Post ignem aetheria domo
subductum macies et nova befrium
terris incubuit cohors,
semotique prius tarda necessitas

leti corripuit gradum.
Expertus vacuum Daedalus aera
pinnis non homini datis;
perrupit Acheronta Herculeus labor.

Nil mortalibus ardui est;
caelum ipsum petimus stultitia, neque
per nostrum patimur scelus
iracunda Iovem ponere fulmina.

(Lost in Translation)

Thus the powerful goddess of Cyprus,
thus the brothers of Helen, bright stars,
and the father of winds guide you,
with others confined except for Iapyx,

ships, which you are keeping Vergil as
a loan to you; may you return him
unharmed to Attic territories, I pray,
and may you guard half of my soul.

Oak and triple copper
was placed around my heart, which first joined
the fragile raft to the wild
sea, neither fears tempestuous Africus

fighting with the north winds
nor the gloomy Hyades nor the rage of Notus,
than whom there is no greater overseer
of the Adriatic, whether he wishes to raise or calm the seas.

What step of death does he fear,
he who saw with dry eyes monsters swimming,
he who saw the wild sea and
infamous rocks, Acroceraunia?

In vain, a prudent god separated
the lands from the incompatible Ocean,
if nevertheless the impious ships
dash across the untouchable depths.

The human race, bold
to suffer all things, rushes to forbidden sins.
The bold son of Iapetus
brought fire to the people by wicked deceit.

After the fire carried off from
it's heavenly home, decay and a new friend of
fever settled on the lands,
and slow fate first quickened the approach

of slow death.
Daedalus tried the empty air with
wings non given to humans;
the labor of Hercules broke through Acheron.

There is nothing steep for mortals;
we attack heaven itself with stupidity, and
we do not suffer for our crime
to put aside angry lightening for Jove.

(Lost in Translation)

Puisse la déesse souveraine de Chypre,
puissent les frères d'Hélène, astres éclatants,
et aussi le père des vents,
les tenant tous serrés hormis l'Iapyx, diriger ta course,

navire à qui nous avons confié Virgile
et qui nous en es redevable.
Aux rives de l'Attique, je t'en prie, mène-le à bon port,
et prends bien soin de cette moitié de mon âme.

Il avait, autour du cœur,
du bois de chêne et une triple épaisseur d'airain,
celui qui, le premier, se risqua sur la mer farouche dans une barque fragile,
et qui ne craignit ni l'impétueux vent d'Afrique

en lutte avec les Aquilons,
ni les sombres Hyades, ni la rage du Notus,
ce seigneur sans rival de l'Adriatique,
qui, à sa guise, en soulève ou en calme les flots.

Jusqu'à quel point redoutait-il la mort,
celui qui put voir avec des yeux secs, les monstres marins,
la mer déchaînée
et les terribles écueils acrocérauniens ?

C'est en vain qu'un dieu prévoyant a séparé les terres
et les a isolées par l'Océan
puisque malgré cela des barques impies
traversent ces flots qui devraient rester inviolés.

Audacieuse à tout endurer, l'espèce humaine se précipite
dans l'interdit profanateur;
audacieux, le fils de Japet, par une ruse funeste,
apporta le feu aux nations,

mais à la suite de ce vol en la demeure éthérée,
l'extrême maigreur et une multitude de fièvres inconnues
s'abattirent sur la terre, et la mort nécessaire,
auparavant lointaine et lente, pressa le pas.

Dédale a éprouvé l'inconsistance de l'air
avec des ailes étrangères à la nature humaine;
un des travaux d'Hercule consista
à franchir de force l'Achéron.

Rien ne saurait rester hors d'atteinte aux mortels !
Dans notre folie, nous cherchons même à atteindre le ciel, et,
en raison de nos crimes, nous ne permettons
pas à Jupiter de déposer ses foudres furieuses.

(Espace Horace)

(Horace)

Fons Bandusiae

Anton von Werner, Phantasieportrait von Quintus Horatius Flaccus
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Quintus_Horatius_Flaccus.jpg)

O fons Bandusiae, this was the first Horatian line I ever heard. The verses were recited in Romanian: the great George Vraca was playing the role of Horace in a drama written by Vasile Alecsandri (I already told you about that in a previous post, several days ago).

The name of Bandusia came slightly altered in Romanian, thus the title of the drama is Fantana Blanduziei (The Fountain of Blandusia): a splendid story putting poet and spring in counterpoint; the poet, in his old ages, rejuvenated at the view of the spring, getting there the force of balancing love, wisdom and generosity - the spring getting from the poet the fame that would live throughout centuries.

O fons Bandusiae, splendidior uitro is the first line of Ode 3.13, whose creation was related to Fontinalia, the festival of springs, honoring the God of Pure Water of the ancient Roman religion: the God of life-giving water and immortal refreshment.

Where Bandusia actually is, that's an old argument among scholars. Is it some place near Venosa (the ancient Venusia), where Horace was born? Or is it rather in the surroundings of his Sabine Villa? Let's look at the Hachette edition of the Odes:

Au commencement du XIII-e siècle, une source des environs de Venouse portait le nom de Fons Bandusinus, et les noms d’origine grecque étaient, il est vrai, fréquents dans cette région. Mais on sait avec quelle légèreté de telles attributions se faisaient au moyen âge ; d’autre part, à deux reprises Horace parle d’une source qui coulait dans sa propriété de la Sabine, et le témoignage d’un contemporain confirme qu’il en serait question ici. Une hypothèse ingénieuse concile les deux opinions : le nom de Bandusie serait bien celui d’une fontaine située auprès de Venouse ; mais le poète, par un souvenir pieux de son enfance, l’aurait donné à la source Sabine. Strophe asclépiade. Date probable : 30 ou 29 BCE

(At the beginning of 13th century, a water source of the surroundings of Venosa bore the name of Fons Bandusinus, and the names of Greek origin were admittedly frequent in this area. But iy is known with which lightness such attributions were done throughout the Middle Ages; in addition, Horace speaks twice about a water source which ran in its property of the Sabine, and the testimony of a contemporary confirms that it would be actually here. A clever assumption councils the two opinions: the name of Bandusie would be well that of a fountain located at Venosa, while the poet, by a pious memory of his childhood, would have given it to the Sabine source. Asclepiad Stanza. Probable date: 30 or 29 BCE).

The original Latin:

O fons Bandusiae, splendidior uitro,
dulci digne mero non sine floribus,
cras donaberis haedo,
cui frons turgida cornibus

primis et uenerem et proelia destinat;
frustra: nam gelidos inficiet tibi
rubro sanguine riuos,
lasciui suboles gregis.

Te flagrantis atrox hora Caniculae
nescit tangere, tu frigus amabile
fessis uomere tauris
praebes et pecori uago.

Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium,
me dicente cauis impositam ilicem
saxis unde loquaces
lymphae desiliunt tuae.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm313.htm)

Bachic Roman Puteal (wellhead), marble
Neo-Attic style, inspired by Hellenistic art
Relief shows figures in a Bacchic procession, like Hercules (at the image), who, inebriated, wears the skin of the Nemean Lion and carries his olive-wood club.
late 1st century CE
Museo Arqueológico Nacional, Madrid, Spain
Photo: Luis García
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Puteal_b%C3%A1quico_%28M.A.N._Madrid%29_01.jpg)

An English crib, by Michael Gilleland:

O Bandusian spring, clearer than glass,
worthy of sweet wine and flowers too,
tomorrow you'll receive the gift of a kid goat,
whose head, swollen with horns

newly grown, gives promise of love and battles;
in vain: for this offspring of a playful
flock will stain your ice-cold
waters with his crimson blood.

The harsh season of the blazing Dog Star
is powerless to affect you, you grant
welcome coolness to oxen weary of the
plow and to the wandering herd.

You too will become one of the famous
springs, when I sing of the oak tree perched
upon your hollow rocks, whence your
babbling waters leap forth.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm313.htm)

Another English rendering, James Joyce:

Brighter than glass Bandusian spring
For mellow wine and flowers meet,
The morrow thee a kid shall bring
Boding of rivalry and sweet
Love in his swelling forms. In vain
He, wanton offspring, deep shall stain
Thy clear cold streams with crimson rain.

The raging dog star's season thou,
Still safe from in the heat of day,
When oxen weary of the plough
Yieldst thankful cool for herds that stray.
Be of the noble founts! I sing
The oak tree o'er thine echoing
Crags, thy waters murmuring.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm313.htm)

Joyce in Trieste
statue on a bridge over Canal Grande
credit Chiara Goia for NYT
(http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2011/05/01/travel/20110501-trieste-slides-3.html)

A parody made by Franklin P. Adams: the Bandusian spring becomes a soda fountain.

Worthy of flowers and syrups sweet,
O fountain of Bandusian onyx,
To-morrow shall a goatling's bleat
Mix with the sizz of thy carbonics.

A kid whose budding horns portend
A life of love and war--but vainly!
For thee his sanguine life shall end--
He'll spill his blood, to put it plainly.

And never shalt thou feel the heat
That blazes in the days of Sirius,
But men shall quaff thy soda sweet,
And girls imbibe thy drinks delirious.

Fountain whose dulcet cool I sing,
Be thou immortal by this Ode (a
Not wholly metricious thing),
Bandusian fount of ice-cream soda!

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm313.htm)

More English renderings on the web page of Michael Gilleland.

And a French rendering, by Denys Eissart:

Ô source de Bandusie, plus limpide que le cristal le plus pur,
toi qui es digne de l'offrande du vin doux et des fleurs,
demain tu recevras en sacrifice un chevreau
que le front renflé de cornes

naissantes voue déjà à Vénus et aux combats.
Mais, pour lui, ce sont là de vaines ambitions, car ce rejeton
d'un troupeau plein d'ardeur va sous peu
rougir de son sang tes fraîches eaux.

Toi, même la pénible époque de la Canicule brûlante
ne saurait t'affecter et tu offres
une fraîcheur bienvenue aux taureaux
las des labours comme aux bêtes errantes.

Désormais, tu feras toi aussi partie des plus célèbres
fontaines, puisque j'aurai chanté l'yeuse qui s'élève
au-dessus du creux rocheux d'où se répandent
tes flots volubiles.

(http://www.espace-horace.org/chx/odes/III_13.htm)

(Horace)

Eheu Fugaces

Thomas Worthington Whittredge - Retrospection, 1864
John W. McCoy Collection, MSA SC 4680-01-0106
(http://www.msa.md.gov/msa/stagser/s1259/143/ghexhibit/4680-10-0106b.html)
(http://laudatortemporisacti.blogspot.com/2011/05/voice-and-shadow_17.html)

Let's firstly explain a possible confusion: there were two John W. McCoy's, unrelated each other. One of them (http://research.frick.org/directoryweb/browserecord.php?-action=browse&-recid=6305) lived between 1821-1889 and was a Baltimore merchant and art collector whose donations started the Peabody Institute's Gallery of Art. There is at Peabody a pastel on paper created by Oscar Hallwig and representing this McCoy. Then there was a second John W. McCoy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_W._McCoy) who lived between 1910 - 1989, an artist painter, the brother-in-law of Andrew Wyeth.

And now, let's go to the Eheu Fugaces, i.e. Horace, Ode 2.14. The Latin original first. As Michael Gilleland suggests, it should be read slowly, word by word: even if you don't know Latin at all you'll experience its charm.

Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
labuntur anni, nec pietas moram
rugis et instanti senectae
adferet indomitaeque morti,

non si trecenis quotquot eunt dies,
amice, places inlacrimabilem
Plutona tauris, qui ter amplum
Geryonen Tityonque tristi

compescit unda, scilicet omnibus,
quicumque terrae munere uescimur,
enauiganda, siue reges
siue inopes erimus coloni.

Frustra cruento Marte carebimus
fractisque rauci fluctibus Hadriae,
frustra per autumnos nocentem
corporibus metuemus Austrum.

Visendus ater flumine languido
Cocytus errans et Danai genus
infame damnatusque longi
Sisyphus Aeolides laboris.

Linquenda tellus et domus et placens
uxor, neque harum quas colis arborum
te praeter inuisas cupressos
ulla breuem dominum sequetur.

Absumet heres Caecuba dignior
seruata centum clauibus et mero
tinguet pauimentum superbo,
pontificum potiore cenis.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm214.htm)

(video by Nightingail90)
(if you cannot see it here, click on it to open a second window)

Who was Postumus, you'd ask me. Well, nobody knows, and it is possible it was just an imaginary name used for the artistic effect. On the other hand, we shouldn't have any reason to consider that Postumus was not a real person, just because we don't know anything about him.

Here is an English rendering. It is on the web site of Michael Gilleland.

Alas, Postumus, Postumus, the fleeting
years are slipping by, and devotion will
not delay wrinkles, the onslaught
of old age, and unconquered death,

not even, friend, if you try each
day to please dry-eyed Pluto with three
hundred [slaughtered] bulls. He keeps
Geryon and Tityos in check

behind the gloomy stream, which must be crossed
in very truth by all of us who feed on the
bounty of the earth, whether we are
kings or penniless sharecroppers.

In vain will we flee bloody Mars
and the broken waves of the hoarse Adriatic sea,
in vain each autumn will we avoid
the south wind which harms [our] bodies.

You must face the dark Cocytus river,
which meanders with sluggish flow,
and Danaus' accursed race and Aeolus'
son Sisyphus, condemned to endless toil.

You must leave earth, home, and affectionate
wife. None of those trees which you're
tending will accompany you, except for the hated cypresses.

Your heir, more worthy [than you], will use up
your Caecuban wines, kept under a hundred locks;
he will spill on the floor the proud wine,
better than at high priests' feasts.

(http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm214.htm)

If you go to the web page (http://www.merriampark.com/horcarm214.htm) of Michael Gilleland, he gave there also some other English translations, also comments for each line.

(video by huandris)

A succinct and elegant comment in the Hachette edition of the Odes:

La mort est inévitable, la prudence elle-même ne peut nous y soustraire: le jour vient rapidement où il nous faut dire adieu aux biens les plus doux et les plus légitimes, et où notre vaine épargne sera dissipée par un héritier indifférent et prodigue. Strophe alcaïque, date vraisemblable 30 BCE

(Death is inevitable, prudence itself cannot withdraw us from it: the day comes quickly when it is necessary for us to say good-bye to the softest goods and most legitimate, and when our vain saving will be dissipated by an indifferent heir and spendthrift. Alcaic stanza, probable date 30 BCE)

And here a French version of this Ode, given by Ulysse François Ange comte de Séguier, edited by Denys Eissart:

Hélas ! Postumus, mon cher Postumus, comme elles s'enfuient vite
nos années… et toute notre piété ne saurait retarder
ni les rides, ni la vieillesse toute proche,
ni la mort indomptée.

Non, mon ami, quand bien même, chaque jour qui passe,
tu sacrifierais trois cents taureaux,
pour te rendre favorable Pluton, le dieu sans larmes
qui retient le géant Tityos et Géryon aux trois corps,

l'onde infernale nous la traverserons tous, un jour,
nous qui sommes nourris des fruits de la terre,
que nous soyons rois
ou humbles paysans.

C'est en vain que nous nous préserverons de Mars, le dieu violent,
c'est en vain que nous éviterons le déferlement des flots grondants de l'Adriatique,
en vain encore qu'à l'automne
nous éviterons l'Auster malsain.

Inévitablement, il nous faudra aller voir
le sombre et languissant Cocyte au cours errant,
et l'infâme descendance de Danaüs, et Sisyphe,
le fils d'Éole, condamné à un labeur perpétuel.

Il faudra laisser ces terrains, cette maison, cette épouse aimée ;
et de tous ces arbres cultivés avec soin
aucun ne suivra son éphémère maître,
hormis l'odieux cyprès.

Un plus digne héritier videra tout ce Cécube
conservé à l'abri de cent clés
et rougira le pavement de ce vin orgueilleux, de ce vin supérieur
même à celui servi aux dîners des pontifes.

(http://www.espace-horace.org/chx/odes/II_14.htm)

(video by Scorpio Martianus)

(Horace)

Denys Eyssart

(http://ergakaihemerai.blogia.com/2007/111701-holderlin-an-die-parzen-a-las-parcas.php)

I found another great web site dedicated to the Horatian Odes, this time a French rendering:

http://www.espace-horace.org/

So, now I am about to start posting here some Odes- starting an uncertain journey toward an uncertain harbor ... for Denys Eyssart, the author of the French site of Horation Odes, it was the same way, une traversée incertaine, and he felt the need to invoke firstly the grace of the Three Goddesses of Fate, Nona, Decima, and Morta, the Parcae. He made the invocation through a poem by Hölderlin; he used the French rendering of Gustave Roud (Bibliothèque de la Pléiade, Gallimard éditions).

I take here a Romanian version of the poem, the one rendered by Stefan Augustin Doinas, and I will add the German original, the French translation that I mentioned above, an English one, and also one in Catalan. Hopefully the Three Parcae would know at least one more tongue, other than Latin.

Catre Parce

Numai o vara, ingaduiti-mi, Amarnicelor!
Si o toamna-n care sa se parguie cantu-mi,
Ca inima mea, bucuroasa, de dulcele
Joc saturata, sa-mi moara apoi.

Sufletul, care zeiescul sau drept nu si-l primeste
Pe pamant, nici jos nu-si afla odihna in Orcus.
Ci mie, odata Divinul, ce-n inima-mi
Zace, Poemul mi-a fost izbutit,

Fii laudata, deci, pace din lumea duhurilor!
Multumit voi fi, chiar daca-al corzilor sunet
Cu mine-n adanc n-a cazut; caci o data ca
Zeii-am trait, si mai mult nu ravnesc.

(http://agonia.ro/index.php/poetry/13952399/C%C4%83tre_Parce)

An die Parzen

Nur Einen Sommer gönnt, ihr Gewaltigen!
Und einen Herbst zu reifem Gesange mir,
Daß williger mein Herz, vom süßen
Spiele gesättiget, dann mir sterbe.

Die Seele, der im Leben ihr göttlich Recht
Nicht ward, sie ruht auch drunten im Orkus nicht;
Doch ist mir einst das Heilige, das am
Herzen mir liegt, das Gedicht, gelungen,

Willkommen dann, o Stille der Schattenwelt!
Zufrieden bin ich, wenn auch mein Saitenspiel
Mich nicht hinab geleitet; Einmal
Lebt ich, wie Götter, und mehr bedarfs nicht.

(http://gutenberg.spiegel.de/buch/262/69)

Aux Parques

Un seul, un seul été... Faites-m'en don, Toutes-Puissantes !
Un seul automne où le chant en moi vienne à mûrir,
Pour que mon cœur, de ce doux jeu rassasié,
Sache se résigner alors, et meure.

L'âme à qui fut déniée, vivante, sa part divine,
Cherche en vain le repos dans la ténèbre de l'Orcus.
Mais qu'un jour cette chose sainte en moi, ce cœur
De mon cœur, le Poème, ait trouvé naissance heureuse:

Béni soit ton accueil, ô silence du pays des ombres !
Vers toi je descendrai, les mains sans lyre et l'âme
Pourtant pleine de paix. Une fois, une seule,
J'aurai vécu pareil aux dieux. Et c'est assez.

(http://www.eissart.org/sommaire/depart.htm)

To the Fates

Grant me just one summer, powerful ones,
And just one autumn for ripe songs,
That my heart, filled with that sweet
Music, may more willingly die within me.

The soul, denied its divine heritage in life,
Won't find rest down in Hades either.
But if what is holy to me, the poem
That rests in my heart, succeeds —

Then welcome, silent world of shadows!
I'll be content, even though it's not my own lyre
That leads me downwards. Once I'll have
Lived like the gods, and more isn't necessary.

(http://poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-fates/)

A las Parcas

Sólo un verano os pido, ¡oh Poderosas!
Y un otoño para madurar mi canto,
y así mi corazón dispuesto, del dulce
juego saciado, gustoso morirá.

El alma que en la vida de su divino derecho
no gozó, tampoco hallará reposo en el Orco;
pero una vez surgió de mi lo sagrado
que vive en mi corazón, la poesía,

Bienvenido pues, ¡oh silencio del mundo de las sombras!
Feliz estoy aunque mi lira
no me acompañe abajo; un día
viví como los dioses, y no necesito nada más.

(http://ergakaihemerai.blogia.com/2007/111701-holderlin-an-die-parzen-a-las-parcas.php)

(video by 3lbsofLove)

(Horace)

Michael Gilleland

Up to the present I have not obtained from any poet the same artistic delight as was given me from the first by a Horatian ode. In certain languages that which is obtained here cannot even be hoped for. The mosaic of words in which every word, by sound, by position and by meaning, diffuses its force right, left and over the whole, that minimum in the compass and number of signs, that maximum thus realized in their energy,--all that is Roman, and if you will believe me, it is noble par excellence. All other poetry becomes somewhat too popular in comparison with it - mere sentimental loquacity.

[Friedrich Nietzsche - The Twilight of the Idols]

I took this quote from a great web site dedicated to the Odes of Horace:

http://www.merriampark.com/horace.htm

As I want to post here some of the Odes in Latin, along with their English rendering (at least, if possible also translations in other tongues) and to add some stuff related to each one, I will use both the Hachette edition of the Book of Odes (I have talked here about it in my previous post) and the information from the web site mentioned above.

The author of that web site is Michael Gilleland, and he did a fantastic job. For each ode he gave the original in Latin, also as many English renderings as he could find (sometimes up to a dozen; his favorite translator is Franklin P. Adams).

But who is Michael Gilleland? A software developer passionate for Latin and Greek, natural history, 19th century American landscape painting, etymology, lexicography and gardening: wow! A scholar manqué, as he introduces himself with self-deprecating humor, antediluvian, bibliomaniac, and curmudgeon (if you ask me what curmudgeon means, it's synonym for cantankerous, which in turn indicates a person which is difficult to cope with). His favorite music begins with the Gregorian chant, passes through Bach and Mozart, and ends with Schubert songs and Brahms: nothing beyond. Lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota.

In two words, Mr. Gilleland is a fascinating person and I am glad I found his web site.

Let's give here just a glimpse from his blog (different from his site dedicated to the Odes): a line from Euripides.

τί δ᾽ ἄλλο; φωνὴ καὶ σκιὰ γέρων ἀνήρ.

(What else? An old man is but voice and shadow)

(Horace)

Horace

(click here for the Romanian version)

Quintillian regarded the Odes of Horace as almost the only Latin lyrics worth reading, justifying his estimate with the words, he can be lofty sometimes, yet he is also full of charm and grace, versatile in his figures, and felicitously daring in his choice of words.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horace)

My first encounter with Horace was in my teens' years, at a Bucharest theatre. A great Romanian actor (George Vraca) was playing the poet, an old noble man hoping to find in the Bandusian Spring the rejuvenating force to love and to be loved; instead he was founding there the wisdom to renounce and the force to be generous. It was a play created in 1883 by Vasile Alecsandri, a great Romanian poet who by that time was in his old ages, too, and thus he had a subtle empathy for the sentimental dreams and the sagesse of giving up of the old author of the Odes.

I had at home a book that I hadn't opened yet, I was constant in postponing it for later. It was in my home library, and I was promising to myself to open it one day, when time would come. Maybe, without being aware, I was waiting for the years to pass, to come at the age when I could empathize with what the two old poets had been feeling.

And here we are, that day came. Some verses have kept on coming to my mind throughout the years, that Exegi Monumentum,and that Eheu Fugaces. Maybe Eheu Fugaces fits better with the mood of the poet as he was described by Alecsandri, an old man whose heart could still be pierced by a flame, yet having the elegance to make a step back and to be generous.

I opened the Book of Odes. An edition in Latin, with French annotations, published by Librarie Hachette.

I opened it and I found on the first page a signature: Nicolae C. Banu. He was one of the brothers of my maternal grandfather. About his great-uncle I knew virtually nothing.

A handwritten inscription on the book is the only thing that I know about him: Nil mortalibus arduum est.

• Michael Gilleland
• Denys Eyssart
• Eheu Fugaces
• Fons Bandusiae
• Nil Mortalibus Ardui Est
• Carpe Diem
• Persicos Odi
• Ut Pictura Poesis
• Beatus Ille

(Classics)