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Statius' Thebaid
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Statius' Thebaid |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
This is a translation from the beginning of Statius' great epic, Thebaid. I appreciate any critique of it as a translation, or just on the wording and expression of the passage itself. Brotherly strife and altern reign Fought out with hatefulness profane And guilty Thebes thus to unwind Pierian fire befalls the mind. Whence bid ye go, O Goddesses? Sing I the rise of this dread race, Sidonian rapes, Agenor's hest, Or Cadmus searching seas on quest? Long back the line: the farmer's yields Of hidden Mars in faithless fields, From point to point unfoldingly To follow out and inwardly, The song that Tyrian mountains made To citywalls as Amphion bade, The malice Bacchus homewards meant, Harsh Juno's work, for whom was bent The bow of Athamas' , or why The mother never feared to die But leapt with Palaemon would be To great Ionian waves of sea. Yet here and now the weal and woe Of Cadmus I will fain forgo, Oedipus' troubled house shall be To this my song the boundary. Italian signs not yet I aim Nor of the North's triumphant fame, How Rhine in yoke was twice begot, Twice Istor to the laws was brought, The Dacians thrown from the height Of conjuration down unlight, Jove saved from wars in growing youth, And thou, a treat to Latian truth, That drawst the doings of thy sire, That e'er to have is Rome's desire. Though everyone allow in mind The stars more narrowly confined, The shining portion of the heaven Apart from Boreas and the Seven And open lightning, edges thee, Or Phoebus himself heavenly The firefoot horses' reiner fair His radiant arc press on thine hair, Or Jupiter an equal share Of the great pole for thee prepare, Yet stay content with human-keep O power of earth and waters deep! And as thou mayst within thy might Give constellations to the height. Sometime unweaker I will wax Pierian-fired to sing thy facts! Notes: altern: alternating Pierian: of Pieria, a home of the muses, hence "of the muses". And thou: Statius is addressing the Roman Emperor Domitian. Poetry had lofty audiences back then! The shining portion (...): the southern part of the sky. the Seven: the Pleiades [This message has been edited by Essorant (07-22-2008 02:00 PM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Essorant, your timing is just not good. We don’t know much about epics , but we do know sonnets. |
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Bob K Member Elite
since 2007-11-03
Posts 4208 |
Dear Essorant, As a rule I enjoy your translations. I don't have any Latin, so I can't be of any help to you there. My understanding is that thee and thy were pretty much back-country usages in Shakespeare's time and were evidence of a certain perceived archaism in speech. How it got to pilgrims and Quakers, I don't know. I know your preference for using it. I believe it is a block to people's access to your generally fine work. I believe that is the case here. The verses themselves are unfortunately hard on my ear. You have put so much work into them I wince at saying so. But the sort of work you've put in here shows itself strongly, and to my ear it seems unclear whether the lines are strong stress anglo-saxon type lines with some sort of twist to them, or whether they are tetrameter with occasional three foot exceptions. My ear. The addition of the rhyming couplets to the mix and the careful and, I believe, deliberate archaism with the thick studding of references to classical mythology gives this poem fragment a forbidding aspect. If Statius is as good as you say he is, I ask you if the original text posed, other than being in Latin, which most of us do not care to learn, the difficulties that this text poses. I would find it odd indeed if the meter were anything of this sort at all, which is neither the meter of Statius' time, nor the meter or diction of our own. I am grateful to you for presenting me with a text that I would never have otherwise encountered, Essorant. And I thank you for that. Yours, BobK |
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oceanvu2 Senior Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 1066Santa Monica, California, USA |
Hi Ess! Well, we've been back and forth enough over your choice of form, so no point belaboring that. On the other hand, unless I missed a punctuation mark, from "Italian signs" to "water's deep is two sentences over 21 lines... First, its skillful as always that you can do it, but how does this help the reader follow the complex imagery and allusions? Second, my own comment above strikes me as silly, like Mozart's patron in the film "Amadeus" complaining that Mozart's music had too many notes. Is it worth considering a middle ground? Best, Jimbeaux  |
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oceanvu2 Senior Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 1066Santa Monica, California, USA |
Hi Chops: Re: "We don’t know much about epics , but we do know sonnets." What is this "we" stuff? You got a frog in your pocket? Best, Jimbeauc |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
No Ocean, its not a frog it just looks like one, Now don’t be jealous , you’ll grow up and have one someday. |
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moonbeam
since 2005-12-24
Posts 2356 |
quote: Don't complain Ess! You have Chopsticks! Whenever I read your learned translations I feel inadequate and small and generally unqualified to comment "expertly". All I can say in truth is that they don't inspire me at all. I marvel at your tenacity and dedication, while all the while wondering why on earth you do it. When Fiona Sampson was appointed editor of Poetry Review I "groaned in spirit" because she is a maniac for translations. I've been surprised however at just how much I've enjoyed contemporary eastern European work. The emphasis is however on "contemporary". Translations of old texts I simply cannot find appealing, and, shock horror, even Heaney's Beowulf didn't hold me for very long. So why do some people find what you appear to enjoy so, well, enjoyable? Awhile ago I wrote the nonsense below to a friend at university who spent what I considered to be an unreasonable length of time in the library rather than with me. I still feel the same I think - which probably means I'm shallow and haven't progressed much! Scholar And so we go da dum da dum Until it merges to a hum, And lulls one to a state of sleep (Or else induces me to weep). These iambs of the ancient gods Could lead to soporific nods In even those inclined to say They love the Latination way. Or is there something noble here When through the library's gloom we peer? The sun shafts in through eave high slits, And motes of learning dance to its Eternal light. No cognisance of this the tomes of tales and rants in alleys shelved so deep and high that nothing bright may sanctify this dead ravine. And there beside a flame of wax with inky hide and splitting quill, the scholar reads, with valiant strength, of godly deeds and worthless trials, and how this bow was shot by him and how this po tion drunk by her, and cities razed and cities built, and emperors praised --- and now all lost to memory. Or not. If this the fatigued bee who totters round the frames of books can yet extract from hiving nooks one nuance from the ancient Greek, (say: Pan is shy instead of meek!). He keeps alive his queen of hearts (for surely only Cupid's darts could fuel this literary passion keep him bound in such a fashion) with morsels out of make believe where brave men die and damsels grieve, until like Causabon he wakes one day outside the pearly gates to find that actually nothing's made, that everything he did will fade, because he spent his waking hours in rearranging long dead flowers. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Don't complain Ess! You have Chopsticks!” He does Moonbeam, I admire Essorant and read all his work. “A friend at university spent what I considered to be an unreasonable length of time in the library rather than with me.” Moonbeam, the reason for that could be your low PH or it could be something else. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Thanks everyone for commenting. Chopsticks, Thanks for showing up. But I am not sure what I ought to think about that comment. Was I supposed to wait for a special signal before I posted? Bob, I enjoy and appreciate your critiques as well. It is no problem if you don't know the Latin, for that is not necessary for judging the poetic virtue of a poetic writing/expression. About "thou". I agree, the thou-words, may be a bit of a "block", but it is easy to overcome by simply learning how to use them. Whoever knows how to use he/his/him and the inflection -s also knows how to use thou/thine/thee and the inflection -est, for they are the same principle in two different words. I would rather inspire someone to remove that "block" than give into the weighty bulk of laziness. Indeed, the meter (Iambic tetrameter) is much different from Statius' meter. He used Dactylic Hexameter and a syntax that often breaks one phrase with another. Consider the below line describing Jupiter entering an assembly of the gods, where the adjective placido "(with) placid" modifies vultu "face", but the two words are put at opposite ends of the line, split by a contrasting phrase in between: placido quatiens tamen omnia vultu with placid shaking up however all things face (With placid face, however shaking up all things) I love how that is done in Latin, but I wouldn't wish to try to make English be Latin and do that. English has its own traditions and styles. When writing in English therefore, I generally don't try to imitate the Latin or Greek, but follow the important traditions of the English language. Sorry the lines were "hard on the ear". Any suggestions on how I may work them softer? Ocean Thanks for sharing your words. quote: What is wrong with two sentences over 21 lines? quote: It doesn't. Remember this is a moment of translation, not a "Statius for dummies" But I may consider adding more footnotes. Moonbeam Thanks for commenting and sharing that poem. quote: Well, there is no need to treat yourself that way, Moonbeam. My rough and awkward translation is no reason to belittle yourself. quote: I think it mostly comes from three things: 1. Enjoying and appreciating the greatness of the work itself. 2. Studying and appreciating the work in its original language. 3. And thirdly, understanding that enriching and reinvigorating the art of translating the work shall enrich and reinvigorate the ability for people to experience and be connected with the work. Most people don't know the original language, and rely on translations. The translations therefore are basically their experience and connection to the work. If it weren't for translations most people wouldn't be able to read many of the greatest works ever written. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Ess, I think I can call you that now, your poem had been on the page going on three days and I wanted to read some replies , I believe it worked. Your poem had been passed up to reply to a sonnet and that is their right. You are the coolest poet at this forum. |
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Bob K Member Elite
since 2007-11-03
Posts 4208 |
Dear Essorant, I think that one would have to look at actual attempts at full length modern epics in English to see how other folks have had a shot at the same sets of issues in order to give a decent answer to your question. If not actual epics, then at least long poems in English. Three strands of work seem to apply for consideration. One sidesteps the elevation of diction that traditional epic at least sometimes offers. Pound offers an attempt at the elevation of diction, but seems unable to stick to a particular story. His skill at his variety of languages seems to me also to stretch the actual notion of epic in ways that don't work particularly well. Others seem none the less to have tried to take the epic into the 20th and 21st century by building on the example of Pound. To throw out any possible technical approaches to translation that might be available as a result of his work and the work of Olsen, Zukovsky and other experimentalists might prove unnecessarily limiting. While not fond of them myself, they are worth a critical examination and perhaps a technical ransacking. Their notion of Epic is much more personal than the traditional. A second source might be Auden's long work, such as "Letter From Iceland" and "Age of Anxiety," both of considerable formal skill. Their adaptation traditional form to modern English diction and syntax is very good. My understanding of Statius' work is that his stuff in the context of his time would have resembled Auden's in its elegance and fluidity. (Auden, too, was an anglo-saxon scholar; Auden had to fortune of being able to study with Tolkien). Yet another strand worth studying would be the strand represented by John Gardner and his Jason and Medea, his novel length verse epic, well worth reading. What you write can only be written by you, what you translate, can only find its English at your hands, and you are pretty darn good at it. I think that you restrict your readers with unnecessarily complicated and knotty translations, more difficult than the originals warrant. To whatever the extent this is accurate, you may be keeping readers from worthy texts, rather than helping to introduce readers to them. Use of Thee and Thou in texts that don't require them, I believe, blocks potential readers. As a perhaps useless question, I've been doing some reading on Homer, and have run across mention of a (?) lost fifth century B.C.E. Greek epic MSS also titled, I think, The Thebaid. Is your Statius Mss. related to this earlier Greek Mss in some way, or am I off on a wild Greek chase? My reading has apparently glanced tangentially off some of your interests, and I thought I'd ask somebody who knows more about this sort of stuff than I do. Best from LA, BobK. |
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moonbeam
since 2005-12-24
Posts 2356 |
Ess That's precisely the point. My shame I guess is in being totally unable to distinguish whether it IS rough and awkward or the most brilliant effort. Beyond contemporary English my linguistic abilities have always been negligible. Your three reasons for enjoyment: I can appreciate I suppose that some people find the work of that age inspiring, personally I don't really find it so. Maybe paradoxically I can in fact see that read in the original language it might have interest and nuances that add dimensions which those who can't read the language would miss to the severe detriment of enjoyment. Which I suppose means that I can sort of see why a translator would feel inspired to try and bring those tones to a wider audience. Perhaps most of all, I've never really thought of translation as you describe it; an "art". Translators I have felt don't actually add anything original to a work, they don't CREATE, they don't, in fact, do anything other than just mechanistically change the words form one language to another. A computer could do it. And in point of fact if a translator DID create or add originality would that not be some kind of abuse of the original intention of the writer and therefore not a "translation" at all but a new poem - or at the very least a "borrowed idea", which has a kind of unsavoury feel to it. But I can see from what you say that there is clearly more to all this than I imagined in my simple way. And all I can really repeat is that I greatly admire your knowledge and skills in this field, and thanks for the explanation. M Later addendum following a post from another: Just to be clear Ess (as there may be some confusion it seems), when I said "Translators I have felt" I did really mean "have felt" i.e. in the past. I didn't mean to imply that I continue to feel that way after your explanation. [This message has been edited by moonbeam (07-30-2008 06:23 PM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Fear not old translator because I have news for you “ Ess., there I go again, some of the best stuff I have ever read was brought to me by a translator. The very best stuff I have ever read, thanks to king James, was a translation of a translation. “Translators I have felt don't actually add anything original to a work, they don't CREATE, they don't, in fact, do anything other than just mechanistically change the words form one language to another “ Now to say a translator don’t create, is like saying when I tell my doctor my symptoms and, he translates from his medical book, tells me, Chops don’t worry about it , its just a virus that’s going around. Then he gives me a bottle of alkaline pills and charges me fifty bucks. |
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Bob K Member Elite
since 2007-11-03
Posts 4208 |
Dear Moonbeam, A decent translation can make the difference between static words on a page and a poem. You might for example check out the differences between the W.S.Merwin translation of 20 love songs and a Poem of Despair with translations other other of Neruda's poems by other folks. Or look at various translations of Rilke's "Der Panther" and you can see what an enormous difference even good translations can make. MacIntyre vs. Mitchell Vs Snodgrass vs.whomever. There are even computer translation programs you can put a poem through. Check out some of those. Even more interestingly, try translating a poem yourself. There's an amazing amount of art and skill to it. With Essorant, sometimes, I worry, that he's pouring his skills into translation at the expense of ignoring his own poetry. Too much goes into the translation, and shame on me for saying such a thing. But I'm afraid there's too much Essorant and not enough whomever. BK |
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moonbeam
since 2005-12-24
Posts 2356 |
Bob Me ... read Neruda!? bring out the garlic and cross.  I find Rilke rewarding and challenging, but only have Bly's Selected Poems translation, so I have nothing to compare it with. I suppose I need to rectify that sorry state sometime. As for translating myself (in a manner of speaking), I can hear my old French teacher guffawing even from 35 years ago. In any case if I was as talented as Ess with his linguistic abilities, I am quite sure that my ego would produce poems with, as you put it, too much Moonbeam and not enough original. As for Ess himself - I used to think what you express, now in my mellow moments I wonder whether his translations aren't in fact his "poetry" and his destination. That is if, after the brother john, thread you actually believe in destinations. M |
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Bob K Member Elite
since 2007-11-03
Posts 4208 |
Dear Moonbeam, Certainly I do. I simply have an enormous respect for the part the unconscious plays in getting to the destination and I have a pretty fair understanding of what happens when you try to impose conscious design on unconscious patterning. The negotiations can be very delicate. Some folks, folks much more talented than I, are more skillful at riding those particular currents. I have an idiotic stubbornness that often keeps me at the process of revision for more than twenty years and often many more than a hundred revisions. I don't think I've shared anything here that's gone through more than maybe ten or fifteen, and certainly none that I've put any lengthy time into. Don Justice used to suggest that you put your stuff in a drawer sometimes for ten years and see how it looked after it had time to settle. The older I get, the more I find myself following that advice. So yes, I do very much believe in destinations. I also believe that I have to be respectful of my unconscious process in getting to them, simply because I'm not smart enough to get there on my own. Does that clarify things at all? I'll be out of town for about ten days to visit upstate New York and elderly in-laws and parents. I'll be leaving tonight, so it's possible a reply to this note may be somewhat delayed. It is an interesting discussion. I certainly don't mean to diminish Essorant, if that's how you read me. His talents are remarkable. Best wishes, BobK. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Bob, I agree with many of your points. However I would say one also ought to look beyond Modern English for good epics in English, for Old English and Middle English were especially flowering with poetic retellings of histories and tales, poetic translations and paraphrases. In truth, it is hard to think of a pre-modern work that wasn't based on other works or earlier traditions surrounding its theme. The kind of "freeverse"-style creativity that people pursue today, almost seems the opposite of the kind of creativity people often sought in earlier times. Back then people tried to stand stronger on the roots that were already proven and wellestablished to bring forth branches of something new, instead of trying to detach themselves in order to try do the same thing. quote: I believe so, but don't know for sure. Thebes is in Greece, therefore it makes sense that the chief sources were probably Greek, probably including that work and others. Statius spent over a decade working on the poem, so surely it wasn't just a translation of Greek into Latin. Moonbeam quote: Well, what are you waiting for? You may overcome that with help. A good place to begin is Latin Via Ovid. I like this grammar because it is a good balance between both the "natural" (directly using Latin) and the "analytical" (studying and memorizing grammar)" approaches to learning Latin. quote: I think most translations capture at least the main substance of the work. And most people only first read the work through the benefit of a translation. Even though the manner of translation is important, I think it is the substance of the work that inspires people most to become more intimate with the work, and go even further to seek the original language behind it. If he didn't admire the work itself (in almost any translation), then the original language is probably not going to make much of a difference. But if one truly admires the soul of the poem itself then learning the original language is a great way of learning more and experiencing it more fully. It is the inspiration and admiration of the poem itself that sparks forth studies to learn and share it in translation. People don't try to study and learn a literary work better to bring the experience into their own language and culture if they don't find great inspiration and virtue in the work itself. Here are further lines I have been working on from Thebaid. I hope the links help deal with unfamiliar words or references. Now I hold out the chelys' charms Only to sing Aonian arms, The deadly staff to tyrants twain And furies death might not restrain, The flames rebellious reaching higher With discord of the funeral pyre, Of kingly corpses lacking tombs And cities alternating dooms, Whenas the Dirce's cerulean flood Should rubricate with Lernaean blood, And Thetis awed at Ismenos That thinning oft through dryland flows, Coming along the riverbed With unkind clutter of the dead. Whom first, O Clio, clearly show Of heroes now wilt thou bestow? Tydeus in ire unwieldy left? The laureled prophet's sudden cleft? Fell Hippomedon's slaughterforce Driving the hostile rivercourse, Urges, and due is to deplore The violent Arcadian's war And in another horror hung Capaneus' story to be sung. Now dolven were deserving eyes With impious hand to penalize And damnate shame forletting sight Was drowned within eternal night. Oedipus thus had holden breath Of life, below a longsome death, Indulgent in a blind retreat And inmost dwellings of his seat Impervious unto heaven's rays Keeping with care his private place. But the harsh mind's own daylight brings The ceasless circling of its wings And in the bosom now belongs The Furies' wreaking of his wrongs. He lifted orbs bereft of light, Of life the raw and wretched wite, To-heaven-wards and hands blooddrowned Beating upon the idle ground, He thus resounded through the air With sorry steven in a prayer: "O Gods, that govern guilty souls Tartarus also strict with tolls, And thou, O Styx, that I besee Greyish with grounddepths shadowy And Tisiphone muchclept by me, Nod at my prayer's perversity. (to be continued) [This message has been edited by Essorant (08-02-2008 06:53 PM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Oedipus' Prayer & Curse If ever I was earning well, When from my mother's womb I fell, Thou favouredst me within thy barm, And healedst my feet throughstung with harm; If Cirrah-lake I yode unto Betwixt the ridge with summits two Whenas my life might be content Beside untrue Polybus spent, Where Phocian narrow's three ways thring Lifewrestled with the longyeared king, And carved his trembling face in ire While I was searching for my sire; By thee foreshowing I o'ercame The cruel Sphinx's riddlegame; If in sweet furies I was led Into my mother's sorry bed, Unholy nights unseldomly I bore, and bairns begot for thee, As well thou wost, I wished my wite, Wreaking with fingers cutting right, My eyes whereof I be bereft Upon my wretched mother left. Hear out, if worthy be my prayer To raging, that thyself might bear. My sons nor help to guide in grief Nor with their words would lend relief, Those, on whichever bed I bore, Lo, overmoody! O for sore! And with my death, the kingdom own, My blindhood scorn and hate my groan. Funereal too am I to these? Idle the sire of gods besees? Come now, my right revenger be. Web their whole line in penalty. Don thou the horebeshitten crown By my own bloody nails brought down. Stirred by a father's wish and pain Go in between the brothers twain And by swordiron up and under Let bonds of kindred burst asunder. Give, O Tartarean abyss' queen The crime I covet to have seen. Nor will the younglings' spirits two Be tardy followers thereto. Come thou that worthy art alone, My weds shall unto thee be known. " barm: bosom yode: went thring: to press or crowd together bairns: children wost: present tense, singular, second person form of the verb wit "to know". overmoody: arrogant hore: filth beshitten: befouled weds: pledges, (Latin pignora), with special meaning "children" in Latin |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Therewith, the cruel Diva stirred, Turned her grim cheer and harked his word. Beside Cocytus' flood unfair, By chance, she sate with loosened hair That with its snakes had let down slide And lick at large the swevelen tide. Swifter than levinfire of Jove, Swifter than falling stars above, Anon, she leapt with no delay, Left the trist bank and took her way. The people fled, inane and shady, And feared the course of their own lady. She went through shade and shadowwong Throughglidden by a ghostly throng To where irremeable sate The threshold of Taenarus' gate. The day then felt her coming near, The night againstwards gan t'appear With pitchy welkin overpight And vexed the shining steeds with fright. Far Atlas shook with axles great And loosened heaven's dubious weight. Resurging forth from Malea's dell To-Thebes-ward took a way known well, For swiftlier nany path she foor Nor liked her own Tartarus more. Hund nadders' shade her face o'erspread, The turmoil of her gruesome head. Within her eyeorbs' sunken pits A ferreous shining deeply sits, As Phoebus' work, through welkins led, Atracian art supplies with red. With venom and with sweaty hore Her hide is stretched and swells e'er more. Forth from her mouth fullswart and dire, Comes longsome thirst, a steam of fire, Disease and hunger, from that breath, And people's universal death. Adown her back and shoulders cast A horrid pall is holden fast, Whose nodes cerulean come around Amidst her breast, together bound. Atropos thilk attire, thereto, Eke queen Proserpine make new. Then, both her hands shake up with ire: This, blazes with a funeral fire, That, with a living watersnake Swinges the air and makes it shake. Where most with peak abruptly high, Cithaeron runs into the sky, Behold, she stood, with verdant hair, And twins wild hisses through the air, A sign to lands and life around Whence all Achaean shores resound, Wherewith Pelopian kingdoms lide, With din and echoe wandering wide, Parnassus in midheaven heard, And rough Eurotus further stirred, Oete moved dubious to its sides, And Isthmos scarce withstood twin tides. Palaemon's mother, then, in sooth, From curvy dolphin hent her youth Wandering from reins, her son most dear, Pressed to her breast and held him near. cheer: face unfair: unbeautiful swevelen: sulpherous wong: field trist: sorrowful glidden: past participle of glide pight: pitched axles: shoulders nany: not any foor: fared hund: hundred nadders: snakes eke: also lide: to make a noise (related to the adjective loud) Atracian: "Atrax, -cis, Atracia, Stephanus; a town of Thessaly, on the Peneus, almost ten miles from Larissa, Livy, Strabo; in the district of Pelasgiotis, Stephanus. Atracius, the epithet: hence, Atracia ars [Atracian art], Statius, denotes magic. Atraces, the people, Livy." - A Dictionary of Ancient Geography, by Alexander MacBean, Samuel Johnson [This message has been edited by Essorant (08-19-2008 12:16 PM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Thence, to the Cadmean rooftop's height The headlong Goddess took her flight, And there anon, so as her list, She set the house in wonely mist. Soon, sudden stirrings, up and under, Clapped through the brothers' breasts like thunder, And furor hent the hearts of kin, And envy sick at other's win, Hatefathering fear and kingdomlust, And broken bonds of brothertrust, Ambition loathing second grace Wishing alone the foremost place, And discord such with all its pains As e'er accompanies partnered reigns. As through a rough and savage flock Indeed, in laborous yoke to lock, A farmer will and holds in mind To have two chosen bullocks bind, That, with steep necks unready yet Not bent in knotful arms and set, Indignant, draw a diverse course, But loose the chains with even force, And thus in many sundry way Confound the furrows as they stray: Not otherwise, hot discord grew Twixt the indomite brothers two. Of altern year, they laid by law, One duke in banishment should draw. An oath malignant thus bestow And bid their fortune overgo, That, whom, by headlong right were rex, That other heir should ever vex. This was the bond the brothers bore, And sole delayment of a war, That nould, in truth, between the twain Perdure unto a second reign. list: to please (the impersonal verb) wonely: usual, wonted win: joy (as in winsome) many sundry way: many (a) sundry way (When used singularily many does not need to be followed by a(n), and originally a(n) was not used with it at all. For example, þær wæs helm monig eald ond omig "there was helm many old and oomy (rusty)" (Beowulf line 2762) rex: king nould: would not [This message has been edited by Essorant (08-24-2008 11:32 PM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Not then were fulvous ceilings seen With metal crass, as one might ween; Not with Greek mounts aloft and tall Was shining forth the propped-up hall, Holding enough the clients' heap; Nor spears guard o'er the kings sore sleep; Nor set in many altern stow No watchmen groaning as they go; Nor care a winecup gemmed to hold Nor with the food to sully gold; But naked power armed the twain To fight about a richless reign! And while they both ambiguate And twixt themselves raise much debate, Of which the squalid acrework Should turn and till of narrow Dirce Or o'er the Tyrian exile's throne Unlofty, be with boast upblown, Farewell to justice' bonds that bind! Those humanly or heavenkind, With goodness giving up its breath, Farewell to worth of life and death! Wherewards, alas, do ye aspire Miserable ones, to stretch your ire? What if by such a crime, the goal Were paths and limits of the pole Whereof the sun with rosey tinge Emitting from the eastern hinge Or setting at th' Iberian gate Beholds the heavenly estate; Or lands most distant and unneigh He touches with his sidelong ray, By Boreas frorn, or warming there With fire and dewy Notus' air. Not if both Tyre's and Phrygia's gold Were heaped as one for one to wold! The dreadful steads so as they sate And tow'rs accursed sufficed in hate, Purchased with savage rage and heat: The price of Oedipus's seat. crass: thick neigh: another spelling/pronunciation of nigh (as in neighbour) Boreas: the north wind Notus: the south wind frorn: the original past participle of freeze wold: to have power over [This message has been edited by Essorant (08-29-2008 04:10 PM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Essorant, I enjoy your translations. I wonder if you could touch on the word~ person~ particular from the Greek and Latin . I know the dictionary definition . I hope you can put some personality to the word. I won’t tell you why, so I won’t bias your thinking If you don’t have the time , I understand . |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Thanks Chops. The word person comes from Latin persona and betokened the mask worn by a player (an actor) in a play. Some resources say persona comes from the equivelant Etruscan word phersu "mask" (back then ph was pronounced as it looks p + h, not as "f") and that that comes from the equivelant Greek prosopon "mask, face" (plural prosopa). But similar sounds and meanings don't necessarily mean one evolved from another. A more logical etymology is given in my Elementary Latin Dictionary, referring to persona as being made up of per "through" and son- "sound", just as the verb personare "to sound through". Therefore most literally it may mean the thing, usually the mask, through (per) which the actor sends the sound (sonus) of his voice. [This message has been edited by Essorant (08-30-2008 12:30 PM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
"Therefore most literally it may mean the thing, usually the mask, through (per) which the actor sends the sound (sonus) of his voice." Thanks Essorant, this should help. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Now Polynices right to throne The drawings of the lots postpone. What then, indeed, was that to be O cruel one, that day for thee, When sole alone in hollow hall Thou sawst thy pow'r and servants all But ne'er a wight within that stead, With equal heed held up his head? Murm'ring in th' Echion folk begins And mute dissent about the prince, And as their wont within their love A venturer is set above. Some lowly churl arose theremong Whose mood was most in making wrong With venomed words, nor would he e'er With willing neck such leaders bear: "This the sour fates have hither brought This to Ogygian land, the lot? This often those that ought be feared To change and change how things are steered, And doubtful necks together lock Beneath an alternating yoke? The fates of folk they turn together And handle fortune as a feather. In turn, fore'er, I ought to lout To exilelords, in days of doubt? Of heav'n and earth, thou sower highest To friends is this the mind thou guyest? Is yet on Thebes the omen old Sith Cadmus bidden forth and bold Upon Carpathian billows worden Sought the Sidonian bull's sweet burden As exile through Hyantean plains Came on a kingdom, in his pains, Sew in the gaping, fruitful earth Brotherly strife and much unmirth, An omen founding there at once Forever unto future sons? Lo, with his consort now away See how his pride has no delay And harsher and erectly now He threats, arising 'neath his brow! What threats he carries in his face! What overmood and lack of grace! Will this a private life e'er share? Yet that was mildmood to our pray'r More friendly in his speech was he And patient of equality. What wonder? He was not alone, But we a throng, vile to the bone Are prompt and e'er ourselves prepare For any ruler whatsoe'er As hence by frigid Boreas, By Eurus eke nubiferous, Sails be outdrawn and ships abroad Amidst wild fortune bend and nod, Alas, indeed, the bitter fate This worthless theed must tolerate That much uncertainty besets While this one rules and that one threats." O cruel one: referring to Eteocles, the brother of Polynices. lout: to bow guy: to guide. (related to the verb guide, but not to the noun guy) is this the mind: "mind" more or less means "plan or intent" here. sith: since worden: past participle of the verb worth "to become". The th turned to d, as in the past participle of seethe: sodden, and the variant form of burthen: burden. the Sidonian bull's sweet burden: Europa, after whom the continent Europe is named. Jupiter loved Europa and in the shape of a bull carried her away on his back. sew: the original past tense of sow Will this...yet that: This = Eteocles, that = Polynices. mildmood mildspirited (originally -mood was widely used in adjectives this way, and without an -ed. We often still use foot this way, as threefoot, instead of threefooted) overmood: arrogance. theed: nation, folk [This message has been edited by Essorant (09-15-2008 11:35 AM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
And then by Jove's command and call A moot was made in heaven's hall, The chosen gods anon to meet Within the inner pole's retreat: From whence all things in spaces e'en Abodes of east and west are seen, And field and flood spread out each way Beneath the wholeness of the day. Then he came in right heav'nly tall With stillmood face, but stirring all, And sat within his starry throne. The heavendwellers not anon Sat down until the sire's command By token of his tranquil hand. Soon wand'ring semigods in crowds And streams akin to highest clouds, And winds with voices hushed in fear Filled the gold halls and came to hear. Mixed arches of the gods are seen Atrembling with majestic sheen, Columns more radiant ne'er to wane And flow'ring posts with light arcane. When after bidden quiethood And th' awing orb in stillness stood, Then Jove aloft no more delayed But now such sacred words conveyed As have a grave and changeless weight And voice full followed by each fate: "Now I complain the wrongs of lands, The mortal mind and how it stands Unquenchable, to say in sum, Not yet by Furies overcome. Shall I draw out forever then In penalties for nocent men? I tire of sending forth my ire With coruscating levinfire. The Cyclops' arms, in busy pain, Long now fatigued grow weak and wane, And at Aeolian anvils now The weakened blazes downward bow. E'en I had borne to run at wide The steeds freed from their wrongful guide Heav'n with wand'ring wheels combust And earth to foul with Phaeton's dust. But naught was gained, nor gained by thee, My brother, when thou madest the sea Widely with mighty spear in hand To thring upon forbidden land, In vain, an overwhelming flood. Though I am auctor of their blood, Now I descend to do as due In punishing these houses two: This branch from Persean Argos torn, That from Aonian Thebes upborn. A mind imposed remains in all: Who may by Cadmus not recall The slaughter, nor of Furies tell The strife, stirred from the depths of hell, The mother in her ill delights, And in the woods her savage flights, And silent judgements of each god? Scarce light, scarce night is breadth so broad That I may numerate therein The impious manners of the kin. This impious heir in appetite, This Oedipus, against all right, In his own father's bed and room, Sought incest at his mother's womb, Monster! Returned to his own source Where his own life began its course. Howe'er, he gave us lasting pay, When he cast out his light of day, Nor on our ether further feeds. But his own sons, look at their deeds, Full cruelly were there to meet His falling eyes with trampling feet. Now, now old man, thy pray'rs are good And worthy stands thy blindlihood, Worthy enough to hope for me, Jove, to avenger, now for thee. New arms I think, intend new pains, To throw upon the guilty reigns, The total race, the rotten fruit, To exstirpate right from the root. My seeds of war this manner draw Adrastus as a sire-in-law, And nuptials sinister to dight. This other too shall win its wite: For from my bosomthoughts arcane The memories nor leave nor wane Of trueless Tantalus, not least, And th' outrage of the cruel feast." |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“The strife, stirred from the depths of hell,” Essorant , this is my favorite line so far. It probably wasn’t a cliché when the epic was written. I’m thinking about translating this translation to the modern speech . The first four lines would go something like this : “The chosen gods are soon to meet. Jeff’s on the pole so take a seat. START YOUR ENGINES that is the call and it rings out in heaven’s hall” [This message has been edited by chopsticks (09-23-2008 11:57 AM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Chops, Why would a line with a cliche be your favourite? Or are you japing? |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Th'allmighty father thus was heard. But Juno wounded with each word And smitten with a sudden smart, Feeding it in her fiery heart, To speak her part anon upsprings And throws her thoughts about these things: "Me, O most just of gods, therefore, Biddest thou me to wage in war? Thou knowst that e'er Cyclopean towers With men and means my aid empowers Those and the scepters far of fame Of great Phoroneus's name. The Pharian heifer's guard, howe'er, With sleep and death thou wrongedest there. And coloured in an aureus hue Thou gost in wellwalled towers too. I pardon counterfeit affairs, But hate that city, hark my cares, To which thou gost confessed of face With tokens of our loveships' grace Aleading thunder through the heaven And also turnest mine own levin. For wrongs, let Thebes atonement do. Why makest Argos foe thereto? But come, if such a quarr'l consume Our inmost and our sacred room, Exscind, erase, with weapons bold Both Samos and Mycenae old And level Sparta to the ground. Why anywhere in lands yet found Or here or there with festive blood Has th'altar of thy consort stood? Why warmly, radiantly increased With gathered fragrance of the east? Better the votive fumes upflow From Mareotic Coptos' stow And brazen-sonant Nile aloud With flowings of a mournful crowd. If mankin must abuy full sore The fern misdeeds of men before, And this belated sentiment Within thy mood is fully meant, To judge the generations ere, What is enough, in time and care, Far back the lands to void of rages And finally emend the ages? Gin then from grounds that whencewards from O'ergliding far and wide is come Alpheus with wandering wave to shove Foll'wing the fleeing of his love. Arcadians here on curseful land Made unto thee a temple stand, Yet not a shame? there overmore Oenomaus' axletree of war And steeds 'neath Getic Haemus stall Stabled more worthy each and all. Still, cut from suiters' remnants there, Unburied faces stiffly stare. Thy temple here stands gracefully, But nocent Ida pleases thee And Crete with lies upon her breath Proclaiming falsely thine own death. Wherefore should any envy stand That I stand by Tantalean land? Ward off the battlestrife and din And have mildheartness on thy kin! To thee are kingdoms many one Impiously seen beneath the sun That better might with patience stir And nocent sons-in-law endure." mankin: the kin or race of man axletree of war: The Latin phrase is actually Mavortius axis, Mavortius being from Mavors, another spelling of Mars, the god of war. This is basically an indirect way of saying "wagon" or "chariot" of war. I was considering "Martian car" but changed my mind fern: ancient gin: begin Thy temple here...: "here" referring to Argos now. Tantalean: of Tantalus (whence the word tantalize) [This message has been edited by Essorant (09-30-2008 01:15 PM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Juno had made an end by there, Comingling both reproach and pray'r. But Jove replied with words not grave, Though stern was th'import that he gave: "Indeed, I did not think to find In thee consent nor favouring mind, By what toward thine Argos be, Though right my judgement and decree. Had they the means, Dion indeed, And Bacchus much for Thebes would plead, But reverence for my mightidom Forbids, and holds them back therefrom. For by horrendous tides below My brother's Stygian streams' dark flow I swear an oath, forever wary, That from these words I shall not vary. So tarry not, with wings away, Outrun the winds that thee convey, Cyllenian son! through liquid air, Unto thine uncle's shady lair, And landed there this saying say: Now to the upper airs and day, Let senior Laius fare anon, Whose deathblow came from his own son, That, not Lethe's further banks shall get By Erebus's law as yet, To bear my mandments and commit Unto his dreadful grandson's wit: His brother now an exile made Grown hardy with Argolic aid, To keep at distance from his hall, And as he wish deny him all Full impiously the rightful gain And altern honour of the reign. Hence anger's causes come indeed, And all the rest as I shall lead" Atlantiades thither stirred Most buxom to his father's word Now in all haste his sandals brings And binds them ready with their wings, His hair he covers after that And tempers tungles with his hat. Then in his dexter took his wand With which to break sweet slumber's bond Or suade its sway againwards back, With which to reach Tartarus black And wonted to reanimate Spirits out of their bloodless state. Downwards he leapt and tingling there Was taken on the tenuous air. Nor tarried he, sublime aheight Pulling thro voids his rapid flight, And where he went upon his wings He marked the clouds with mighty rings. Cyllenian: Mercury (based on his birthplace, Mount Cyllene) Atlantiades: Mercury again (based on his mother, Maia, being the daughter of Atlas. When endings are added to the name Atlas the form Atlant- is used as in Atlantic. The ending -des in Atlantiades is patronymic meaning "son of, descended from". ) tungle: star dexter: right hand [This message has been edited by Essorant (10-02-2008 03:38 AM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Now Oedipodionides, Meanwhile, from native boundaries Exiled and stealthy slank abroad And o'er Aonia's wastelands trod. Full sorely now he thinks all through, The kingdom owed to him and due, And the long year complains and pines As heaven stands with tarried signs. In mind o'errolled and overrun By day and night his care is one: If ever he shall see brought down His brother nethered from the crown And hold the honour and delight To rule o'er Thebes with all his might. An age would give as pledge and pay To see the light of such a day. He moans the time is idle spent, But soon again is hotly hent By princely pride and inspiration And catches an imagination That now, his brother down and doffed He nims the throne and sits aloft. Such anxious hope his mind employs And longsome pray'rs consume his joys. Away he purposes to bow Toward Inachian cities now, And by the Danaan acres go, And swart Mycenae's sun-reft stow, And bear his road with fearless pride, Whether Erinys fore him guide Or Force of way as may befall, Or Atropos unbending call. He leaves th' Ogygian lands and bounds Of howlful airs and furious sounds, And hills that reek with dewy rud Thickened and drenched from Bacchic blood. Thence where Cithaeron softly hields Sitting stretched out toward the fields And leans its weary mount at last Towards the wave, his pace is past. Hence clomben pathways scopulose Sciron's infamous cliffs set close, Eke Scylla's fields and rural stead Under the purple leader led, And also Corinth mild and kind, Well on his way, he leaves behind, And hears the rivages both twain Double with sound amidst the plain. And now, for Phoebus' work was ended, Titanis being soon ascended With dewy wain, o'er earth now still, Thins out the air and casts a chill. Now beasts and flyers take to rest, Now Sleep creeps in each greedy breast, Referring sweet oblivion's air Unto this laborate life of care. No welkins punic to the sight Promised the come again of light, Nor twilight long with shortened shade With Phoebus mirrored back was made: More dense by lands the night o'er rolls, Reached by no ray and veils the poles. Now stern Aeolus' cloisters sound, Those walls that keep the winds fast bound, And stricken threat with voices hoarse The coming of a stormy course. The roaring winds each other swinge, And force the axis from its hinge, While every for himself will fight Gripping the sky in greedy flight. But Auster augments most the night Rolling black volumes through the height And pours down showers fierce and fell That bitter Boreas hardens well Presolidating with cold air Soon frorn to hailstones here and there. Nor is there not outbroken levin With trembling glister through the heaven, And ether gnidden with its ire Asundered forth with sudden fire. Now Nemea waxes water-swenched And now Arcadia's peaks are drenched Conterm'nous with Taenarum's woods. Inachus flows with mighty floods And eke Erasinus at once With frorey waves arising runs. Whilom full dusty trodden grounds Now streams stretch out and leave their bounds. Lerna with flood spumes from below With ancient venom in her flow. Each grove is torn, old branches cast, To-rent and stolen by the blast. And by no suns beholden ere So thick, so umbrose everywhere Lycaeus' shrouded summerstead Lies open now and nakeded. But he amazed and having wondered At fugient rocks from ridges sundered And frightful hearing cloudborn rills Outthringing from the heighty hills And pastor's house and cattle's sty Reft by the whirlwind raging by, Not out of wit nor with delay, Albe uncertain of the way, With silence through the dusky airs Draws his vast course and further fares. And everywhence and everywhence Fear of his brother frets his sense. So as a sailor sorrowly Caught on the waves of wintry sea To whom wards neither Wagon slow Nor Luna with her friendly glow, Beshining them with reaching rays Leads out and luminates the ways, In middle tumult there he be In wanhope twixt the sky and sea And either now from deadly rock Submerged in waves, awaits the shock Or sharp and foamy cliffedge now Be run into his hoven prow, So had the Cadmean hero hied Through forestshadows thick and wide, With his vast shield, with steps increased, Dared through the stalls of many beast And further with a forward breast Broke through the shrubs and bravely pressed. Fear's grievious force befalls his heart And smiting gives a goading smart, Til from Inachian homes in sight With conquored darkness came a light The which Larissean heights let go Pouring on walls devex below. Inspired with hope he thither hies, Hence on his left a temple lies: High Prosymna's Junonian fane, Rightwards, signed with Herculean stain Lernaean water blackly flows, And in the opened gate he goes. And finally beholding there The vestibules most roy'l and fair Soon having weary limbs outthrown Stiffened by storm, berained, and blown, Against th'uncouth halldoors prest, Invites thin sleep to a rough rest. Oedipodionides: Oedipus' son (here Polynices) Titanis: the moon Punic: Purple Auster: the south wind Boreas: the north wind Wagon: Charles' Wain or the Big Dipper [This message has been edited by Essorant (10-11-2008 02:42 AM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Why would a line with a cliché be your favorite?” Only time will tell. I do like the modern cliché better: “The trouble, from the hub’s of hell” "I'll see you in the hub's of hell" "It's hotter than the hub's of hell " |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Never heard it before. What a lewd misuse of the apostrophe. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“What a lewd misuse of the apostrophe “ Do you really mean that ? Are we talking about the same lewd.? Only yesterday I have lunch with him and he didn’t mention you.. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
I might not see what you are talking about, Chops. Anyway, here is a furthering I wished to put on the end of my earlier post, but ran out of time to do so. There, King Adrastus, not with strife, Mid in the limit of his life, Verging to senium in his eld, Gubernance o'er the people held, Rich in his kin and raught his line On either side to Jove divine. Though lacking of the better sex, Females were flowering to the rex: Two daughters' pledge of love, indeed, Gave him supportance in his need. Phoebus to him a ferly told Deadly, and soon to truth unrolled, By fatal guidance forth to draw, Each to be loved as son-in-law, That both a bristlebearing boar And fulvous lion stood in store! Revolving this amidst his mind, The sire might not the sooth unwind And Amphiaraus thou mightst not Unlock the lore, unknit the knot, That art of future things well wise While th'auctor Phoebus such denies. But in his heart, set like a curse, The parent's care grows worse and worse. senium: old age eld: age gubernance: governance (gub- is the original spelling) raught: reached rex: king ferly: something that causes fear and wonder auctor: author (auct- is the original spelling still in the word auction) [This message has been edited by Essorant (10-12-2008 02:10 AM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“What a lewd misuse of the apostrophe “ Essorant , what I mean is that we don’t both have the same understanding of the word “ lewd .” That is ok, because what you think of how I use an apostrophe, is none of my business . So please get on with your translations, I enjoy them very much.. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Chops, Methinks that is because you are not looking beyond the deviant modern usage. The root meaning of the word lewd is simply "unlearned" or "ignorant" as of clergy, school, letters, grammar, etc. Take a look at how it is used in the Middle English poem, Speculum Vitae: "In English tonge I schal yow telle, Yif ye wyth me so longe wil dwelle. No Latyn wil I speke no waste, But English, þat men vse mast, Þat can eche man vnderstande, Þat is born in Ingelande; For þat langage is most chewyd, Os wel among lered os lewyd. Latyn, as (hs. al) I trowe, can nane But þo, þat haueth it in scole tane, And somme can Frensche and no Latyn, Þat vsed han cowrt and dwellen þerein; And somme can of Latyn a party, Þat can of Frensche but febly; And somme vnderstonde wel Englysch, Þat can noþer Latyn nor Frankys. Boþe lered and lewed, olde and yonge, Alle vnderstonden english tonge; Þer fore I holde most syker þan, We (hs. Wo) schewe þat langage þat eche man can, And al for lewed men namely, Þat can no maner clergy. To teche hem it were most nede, For clerkes can boþe se and rede In diuerse bokes of holy wryt, How þei schal lyue, and þei loke it. Þere fore I wil me holly halde To þat langage, þat Englisch is calde. Gode men, vnderstondes now: Þe ryght wai I schal teche yow, Þat ye may holde, whil ye leue, And swyche a lessoun I schal yow yeue, Þat myrour of lyf to yow may be, In þe whiche ye may al yowre lyf se." |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Methinks that is because you are not looking beyond the deviant modern usage . “ Essorant, you are so right and I try to avoid doctors that practices blood letting . [This message has been edited by chopsticks (10-13-2008 09:03 AM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
How does bloodletting have likeness to using the more original and etymologically proper meaning(s) of a word? I don't have a problem with words devoloping some different modern meanings or connotations, but rather when people enforce those and no longer let the original meanings have a place in the language anymore. One of the worst examples is the word thew. Throughout English (and also in related Germanic languages) until modern times meant "manner, custom, virtue" The word, hardly ever used in modern English, nevertheless was misused somehow, to mean something toward "physical strength". Now all the sudden dictionaries list it only according to that deviant meaning and don't even list the original and more proper meaning, such as the listing at dictionary.com: Thew 1. Usually, thews. muscle or sinew. 2. thews, physical strength. [Origin: bef. 900: ME: OE théaw custom, usage: c. OHG thau (later dau) discipline: akin to L tuérî to watch] However, at least dictionary.com still lists the original meanings of the word lewd: Lewd\ (l[=u]d), a. [Compar. Lewder (-[~e]r); superl. Lewdest.] [OE. lewed, lewd, lay, ignorant, vile, AS. l[=ae]wed laical, belonging to the laity.] 1. Not clerical; laic; laical; hence, unlearned; simple. [Obs.] For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust, No wonder is a lewed man to rust. --Chaucer. So these great clerks their little wisdom show To mock the lewd, as learn'd in this as they. --Sir. J. Davies. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
That was just my way of saying they both are relating to an earlier time and I’m not interested in either; but those who do are fine with me. Essorant, when you said, “What a lewd misuse of the apostrophe “ was I suppose to understand the comment in the present day meaning or say, that is old Ess and he is using the archaic meaning of the word lewd. So he is really saying “ What a ignorant misuse of the apostrophe “ Ess, you are a wordsmith and I may be ignorant of the possessive use of the apostrophe . Ignorance can be cured, but something’s are forever. Did I get it right this time ? Are we having fun yet ? [This message has been edited by chopsticks (10-14-2008 07:18 AM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
No point in discussing it further, Chops. It is not about knowing automatically what a word means, but actually being willing to learn it and learn also beyond just the oft-deviated modern usage. But if one is not interested, one is not interested. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
How Tydeus on that night selfsame Likewise through stormy weather came And found the shelter furthermore That Polynices found before. Beneath one roof to lodge them both The heroes in their hearts were loth. After few words and threats outright They had a sore and bitter fight. _______________________ But lo! relinquishing anon By fatal cause, old Calydon, For brotherblood, for horror steers, And drives him forth with guilty fears, Th'Olenian one, that Tydeus hight, Beneath the sleepy depth of night Treading upon a selfsame path Through selfsame winds' and showers' wrath With rime upon his ridge to bear, Berained by storm his face and hair, In the ilk shelter now ingoes Wherein the other held repose, That earlier comer come before That stretched out on the frigid floor. Then here by fortune it became Grippen were both with bloody grame: Not tholing other either wight Neath fellowed rooves to fend off night. Now alternating words they say And with their threats a while delay, Until their sermons well were thrown And ire thereof enough was known, Soon shoulders bare, and now upright, They dare there have a naked fight. Now Polynices steps more steep Longer his limbs not low to creep, And in his eld, as it appears, Tender and integer of years. But Tydeus nothing less to find Well bears himself with might and mind And through his limbs and body small A greater virtue reigns o'er all. Now thickened blows they thicken more On faces and on temples sore, Like Riphaean hailstones, or as darts, And kneeling knock the nether parts. Not otherwise, as years shall run, To Pisaean Jove the thund'ring one The festive lustrum comes again, Where dust grows hot with sweat of men: Hence is the gathering's uproar heard, Whereby the younglings well are stirred, And mothers, though excluded there, Expect the prize they wish to bear. In likewise both hot hate conveys Inflamed to fight, but not for praise. Fingerteeth deeply scrutinize Peircing the face and turning eyes. Perhaps, for ire, such was it led, Soon both their swords had nakeded, Girt at their sides, and better too By hostile arms to be run through And by your brother mourned, in truth, Hadst thou then lain, O Theban youth, If not the king in muchel wonder At wontless clamour up and under From heavy breasts each strident groan, Through darkness, steered his steps anon, In whom the sober oldhood prest In such deteriorated rest. Whenas he went, straight as a line, With numerous torches shedding shine, Having done off the locks as then, On the front threshold, sees the men, A sorry sight to say, a dread, Faces totorn and cheeks bebled: "What is the cause of such a rage Ye foreign comers young of age? No citizen of mine would dare Such harshness at his hands to bear. Whence this implacable delight By which the tranquil still of night Ye break with harsh resounding hate? Is day too small, and it such grief To suffer but a while's relief Of peace and sleep in mind to come? But tell, whence are ye sprungen from Witherwards do ye bear your way, And what your quarrel be, do say. Not low nor humble may ye be Such anger shows that openly, For e'en through bloodshed, clarified Great signs bespeak a race of pride." |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“No point in discussing it further,” Essorant, I agree and I will not broach the subject again . Btw, I mean~ broach ~in the modern definition, ( to open up a subject for discussion) and not the Latin definition (vulgar.) |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Well, I am glad that you know the Latin meaning. That is an example learnedness instead of lewdness |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
This scarce was said, when mixed with din, With sidelong look, they both begin: "O Argives' aldermildest king! What need is words anent this thing? Thou seest thyself how it is led, Our sorry faces all bebled." These words with all the rest confound Lost in their voices' bitter sound. Then Tydeus risen gan to tell In order how this thing befell: "Coveting comfort for my days Some solace for my sorry case, Leaving monstriferous Calydon And all its wealth, I went anon, And from the Acheloian wolds. Lo in thy bounds such night enfolds And covers me with such a gloom, Who was this to forbid me room? Or be it only for the claim That he the earlier hither came? Bimembered Centaurs share a stow, They say, and Cyclops even so Underneath Aetna sibsomely. In rabid monsters one may see E'en there internal laws are sown And sacred justice of their own. But not so much for us is found To share with grith one lodging ground! But why complain? For thou today Glad with my spoils shalt fare away Whoe'er thou art, or know me such, If grief blunt not my blood too much, Of mighty Oeneus' stirp indeed, And traced to Mars, no rotten seed" "Nor lack I of my kindredfolk, Nor animus" the other spoke. But with a mind forefeeling fates To name his father hesitates. Then mildheart king Adrastus quoth: "But come desist from threats, ye both, That night brought forth or bravery Or wrath so unexpectedly, And ending, leaving off this all, Succeed into my palace hall. Now join right hands and each take part In equal pledges of the heart. Not are these deeds befallen vain Howe'er they fell betwixt you twain, Not lacking will of gods above. Perhaps this ire foreerrands love That after all ye fain may find This memory made in your mind." Nor voiced he vainly fates to be. They say through fight fidelity Woke after wounds, and so great fared As Theseus bore in danger shared With rash Pirithous, friends ifere. Or with Pylades standing near Distressed Orestes turned his path To shun Megaera's rabid wrath. As waters foughten with a blast Reside and settle back at last But of those winds a lingering breath In laxate sails prolongs its death, Likewise the heroes hearsome yode And undercame the king's abode. [This message has been edited by Essorant (10-29-2008 02:50 AM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“That is an example learnedness instead of lewdness “ Thanks Essorant, and who said Canadian's don’t have a sense of humor ? Btw, your last offering is one of the best . |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Thanks Chopsticks. Here is a site you might want to look at. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
How King Adrastus looked them o'er And found the lion and the boar That Phoebus with a misty clause Foresaid should be his sons-in-laws. _______________________ Here, first, he leisures to behold The men's attire and weapons bold: On this one's back a lion flain Shows up with coarse and shaggy mane, Like that in species and in hue Amphitryoniades slew In early eld and yearyoung days, In the Teumasian forestspace, Before he fought the monstercat Of Cleonae, did on him that. On Tydeus dreadful plunder sate Labouring o'er his shoulders great, Bristles and backbent tooth thereon, An honour come of Calydon. The old man dizzies with surprise At such an omen in his eyes, Recalling Phoebus well in mind The oracle, the thing divined, And uttered warning that he gave Delivered through his voiceful cave. His face is frorn in sight thereof, His limbs throughthrilled with awe enough. He sensed that by an urge divine The twain were led, and this the sign, That augur Phoebus' misty saws Foresaid to be his sons-in-laws, In words misleading and unclear Under the tokens of wild deer. So thence, toward the starry skies His arms outstretch and words arise: "Lo Night! whose fathom overfolds Labors of welkins and of wolds Transmitting through expanses far The lapse of every fiery star, Indulgent to repair the mind, Til next, to wankle wights of Kind, Titan with sheen, with nimble rise Beshines them and their earthy sties. To me in perplex errors cast Kind one, thou sendest sooth at last And weavings out of ancient fate Openly showst to extricate: Further my work and hear my vow And certify thine omens now. Through all the measures of the year This house shall e'er thyself revere. To thee black flocks, picked for their necks, O Diva, shall be thy respects, And Vulcan's fires be eating through The lustral tharms, milkdrenched anew. Hail to the tripods' truth of old! Hail to dark caves where it is told! O Fortune! wilt thou see this now, I understand the gods, somehow!" The old man having spoken then Conjoining hands with both the men Leading them thus within his walls, Proceeded to the inner halls. saws: sayings deer: animals (the original meaning of the word). perplex: tangled, intricate tharms: entrails [This message has been edited by Essorant (10-31-2008 04:08 PM).] |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Here is a site you might want to look at. “ Thanks Essorant, boy, did I learn something~(one was never use an apostrophe to show plural’s) |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Being difficult, Chopstick's?  |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Being difficult, Chopstick's? “ Heavens no Essorant it was Halloween . Have a butter finger. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Yet on gray altars blazes burned But much to sleepy ash are turned, And holy offerings given there Extend lukewarmth into the air. The hearth with rites to burn he bade And recent feasts again be made. His ministers with haste had stirred All earnest to obey his word. With various tumult all around The stricken hallways now resound. Some then equipped the couches there With purple delicate and fair And tapestries that sound with gold Brought in, hung highly to behold. Some waxed the table smooth and bright Some strove against the dark of night Busy and workful, taking pains To stretch the golden lanternchains. These work to roast, with spits, with heat, The beasts of slaughters' bloodless meat, And these to gather into leaps, Subdued on rock, high Ceres' heaps. His house with fervid buxom work Makes King Adrastus warmly smirk. And now the king on cushions shone Ascended on his ivory throne. The youths apart recline nearby Having their watered wounds made dry. Each looks in other's fightbruised face Sharing thereof forgiving grace. The longyeared king commanded here The nurse Acaste to come near, The nurse and guardian holden true A helper for his daughters two To watch their modesty enough And keep it clean for righteous love, And murmurs words into her ears Nor does she tarry as she hears. Then, soon, stepped forth the maidens twain Issuing from their bour arcane With wonderous faces, one might ween Like armisonant Pallas seen And quiverbearing Dion, lo, Minus the terror, both were so. And shame came o'er the maidens then To see the faces of the men. Pallor and rubor e'enly drew And overhwelmed their cheeks' right hue. Their eyes, filled with astonishment, Back to their sacred father bent. After the tables' course was done With hunger vanquished well and gone Then Iasonides' thanes were sent To fetch his wonted ornament A perfect bowl, to bring anon, With signs and shining gold thereon, The which Danaus used to hold And whilom too Phoroneus old Giving their offerings poured thereof, Libations to the gods above. Graven in that were figures holden: Here, seen with wings a youth all golden And from the corven neck to bear The Gorgon's head with snakes for hair, And even now, with no delay, To wandering airs, he leaps away: Her heavy eyes she almost lifts, Her languid face she almost shifts, And even so, one might behold, Grows pale within the living gold. And here the Phrygian hunter caught On fulvous wings is upwards brought, Arising higher in the height Gargara sinking in his sight And far recedes the land of Troy, His comrads stand bereft of joy And hounds in vain tire out with sound Chasing his shadow on the ground, With sonant mouths, with din enough Barking at clouds of heav'n above. This pouring with the flowing wine, He calls in order gods divine The heavendwellers, as is best, And Phebus calls before the rest. To Phebus' altar each and all Comrad and servant, raise a call In pudic leaves about them bound, For whom the festive day is found, And with rich incense high and low The fumey altars' blazes glow. Ceres' heaps: bread leaps: baskets rubor: redness Iasonides: King Adrastus (a descendant of Iason, an earlier king) Phrygian hunter: Ganymede pudic: modest, chaste, pure [This message has been edited by Essorant (11-07-2008 12:45 AM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
The king then quoth "Maybe, O knights, Ye wonder at these sacred rites, What they may be, what they are for, And why we honour Phoebus more. 'Tis not blind faith that moves us so. Whilom in great distress and woe The Argive people sought release And set these rites to pay for peace. Advert to me your heart and mind And let my words the tale unwind. When deus Phoebus' mighty blow Laid the cerulean monster low, With all its sinuous volumes round, Python, the offspring of the ground, With swarty circles sevenfold Surrounding Delphos in its hold That with its squams had overthrust And gnidden yeary oaks to dust, With threecleft tongue outstretched ahead, By the Castalian fountains' stead, With venom, and with all its shape, Was seen to long for food and gape. He felled it thus with arrows shot, The which he spent on wounds well wrought, And left it scarce at length, unwound Over Cirrhaean soil and ground: Over one hundred acres spread! Thence, new atonements for the dead The god then sought, and hither yode To our Crotopus' poor abode. Here was a daughter, yearyoung she, Waxing toward maturity Wonderly beautiful and sheen, Keeping the house, a maiden clean. Fortunate were that virgin fair Had she ne'er met the Delian there, Phoebus and all th' intrigues he bore Nor carried on occult amour. By Nemea's flowing rivercourse She felt the god, o'ercome by force. When twice times five fullfaced in sight, Cynthia in cycles showed by night, The maiden kindled life to light Latona's grandson heavenbright. But fearing punishment and ire If such were learned by her own sire, For he would give no grace thereof, To forced wedlock and violent love, She chooses acres free from roads With fenced enclosures, sheeps' abodes, And to a mountainwandering one, A guard of flocks, entrusts her son, Beseeching wholly in her need For him to care and keep and feed. O child, the cradle thou wert in Befit not thee of so great kin, With grassen bolsters there bestowed, Within the oakenthatched abode. But closed amidst Arbutus' rind The limbs yet warmth and comfort find. A hollow fistula is played By which sweet slumber soon is made, The ground in common holden there The weary flocks are glad to share. The cruel fates forbid howe'er E'en that as home, that humble lair, For while one day, on grass he lies, Mouthopened, breathing in the skies, A rage of hounds upon him draws And tears and feeds with bloody jaws. When news thereof the mother hears It shocks like thunder in her ears. Father and shame fall out of mind And former fear is left behind. At once she wanes in all her wits And fills the house with hideous fits. And bearing forth a naked breast Runs to her sire to be confessed. Nor is he moved, nor is he mild But horror! bids that his own child, Yearning herself her final breath, Be made to suffer dusky death. Late mindful of thy love affair, O Phoebus, thou wilt now prepare A solace for her death and woe, A monster birthed from hell below, E'en from the Furies' filthy room, 'Neath lowest Acheron in gloom. This has a maiden's face and breasts. Atop her head, a snake ne'er rests, Twixt iron brows, arising there, Whose strident hisses fill the air. Then, this dire plague, by night befalls, And slides in chambers, slinks in halls, Foully from bosoms' depths to rip The recent offspring nurses grip, And thus with bite and bloody flow Much fattens on our country's woe. Coroebus excellent of arms And great of mind, bore not such harms. With alderstrongest youths he came Ready to hazard life for fame. Having destroyed a new abode By a gates' byway, now she yode And at her side were corpses twain Of little ones but newly slain, Hooked hands yet tearing vital parts And nails warmed in their tender hearts. Against her Coroebus came strong Surrounded by his manly throng, And dalve his iron deeply prest, His broadsword in her rigid breast. With gleaming edge that inmost felt The depths wherein her spirit dwelt, At length he sent her overthrown Returned to nether Jove to own. 'Twas joy to go and see right nigh Livid in death the monster's eye, And from her womb the pus outpour And squalid breasts all crass with gore, By which so many victims died. Th' Inachian youths are stupified. Now after tears great joys prevail And now remembering, all grow pale. And with hard sticks dead limbs totear A vain relief for grief they bear, On her sharp molars further wreak And kick them out of either cheek: Their might may not explete their anger. Flying around with nocturn clangor Ye birds, unfed, eschewed her sight, E'en rabid hounds were filled with fright, And trepid there, the wolves, they say, Gaped with dry mouths and turned away. Now with his slain aveng'ress' fate The Delian's ire is doubled great, Embittered at the youthful men, And on twopeak Parnassus, then, Sitting atop its shady height, With curvy bow, with bitter spite, He lets pestiferous arrows fly. Feilds and Cyclopean houses high Beneath the weather of the god Are cast in stormclouds far and broad. Sweet life to bitter ends is led Death's sword cuts through the sisters' thread, And bears the city, caught in woe, Swift to the manes' depths below. Whenas our leader asks the cause What evil fire from ether draws, And why alone is seen t' appear Sirius reigning all the year, Paean, the selfsame god decrees As sacrafices to appease, To the gored monster they should go, Those that with slaughter laid her low. O blest of mind about to earn A lasting day as ages turn! Not wretched thou, not wont to hide Thy weapons or thy pious pride, Nor run away, fear on thy breath, Eschewing what seems certain death. Coroebus stood and faced him plain On the threshold of Cyrrah's fane, And thus he sounds his heart entire And asperates his sacred ire: "Thymbraean, to thy temple here, I come not sent nor bent in fear, But piety has guided me And concious virtue unto thee. For I am he, O Phoebus, know That laid thy mortal monster low, That with dark cloud, with hindered day, With pitchy filth, cast every way Throughout the heaven's evil height Thou seekest out with cruel might. If monsters feirce and causing fear To gods supernal be so dear, And less a loss, below the sky, To all the world, if humans die, If heav'n has such inclemency, Why should all Argives pay the fee? 'Tis I alone, O god most great, I, that belong to such a fate. Or are these more thine heart's delight, Desolate houses in thy sight, And hopeless cultors thy desire And every acre lit on fire? But why with words should I delay Thy weapon and thine hand this way? Mothers await and through the airs Sound out for me the final prayers. This is enough: I earned it so That naught of mercy thou shouldst show. Come then, bring forth thy quiver now And stretch thy great resounding bow And finally smite down this mark, A noble soul, to death most dark. But as I die, yet lingering here, Dispel the cloud and make things clear. Remove that pallid mass that stands Thick o'er Inachian Argos' lands." So equal fortune as it runs E'en yet respects deserving ones. Then ardent Letoides awed For reverence overcame the god. He grants the honour of his life, However trist, and ends the strife. The evil cloud flees from the height, As thou heard out, wouldst leave, O knight, Phoebus in great amazement there, And o'er the temple's threshold fare. Thence be these solemn feasts unrolled That sacred rituals e'er uphold, And honour new with gifts divine Thus placates Phoebus holy shrine. What progenies are ye by chance That o'er these holy altars glance? Though, if the clamour earlier made Was rightly to mine ear conveyed Soothly, they heard e'en that this one Is Calydonian Oeneus' son, O'er Parthaonian's house to reign. But thou, the other of you twain, That comest unto Argos' land Reveal, that we may understand, Thine own origin, stirp and stock, While time allows for varied talk." Th' Ismenian hero, with unmirth, Turning his face toward the earth, Then tacitely and cornerwise To injured Tydeus took his eyes. Thus for a while was nothing heard, But finally his words upstirred: "Not o'er these rites of gods divine Should I be asked about my line, Whence be my kin, what native stow Or how mine ancient bloodties flow. Uneath is that to be confest Among these rituals clean and blest. But if thy cares so urgent be To learn of all my misery, Cadmus is th'origin, indeed, Of all my fathers and their seed, Mavortian Thebes our native earth, And from Jocasta's womb, my birth." Adrastus stirred with friendlihood. Indeed, he knew and understood: "Wherefore conceal the known and couth? We know" the monarch said "the truth, Not from Mycenae turned away, Does fame upon her journey stray. About the kingdom and the madness, About the shameful eyes and sadness, E'en he that shakes neath Arctic suns, Or drinks from Ganges, knows at once, Or he that sails into the west While darkness deepens on each crest, Or whom with its uncertain shores Syrtes confuses from their course. No more lament, nor numerate Thy fathers' woes with grief so great. Piety in my blood as well, Has erred in much, as I may tell. Nor fathers' faults that be to blame Fasten the sons to do the same. Thou now look well and favour win And earn restorance for thy kin. But now the frosty guide in care, That leads the hyperborean bear, With pole and heaven backward bent, Is seen to wane and grow forspent. Pour over hearths the sparkling wine And chant thine orisons divine And Letoides, o'er and o'er The savior of thy sires implore. O father Phoebus, though it be, Patara's bushes busy thee And Lycia's ridges rich with snow, Or amour urges thee to go And in Castalia's pudic dew Thy golden locks immerse anew, Or Thymbraean, thou keepest Troy, E'en where thou whilom wouldst employ, As fame reports, thy thankless shoulders And willing bear the Phrygian boulders. Or casting shadows far and wide Over the Aegean waters' tide Latonian Cynthus pleases thee Away from Delos midst the sea. Thine are the darts and bending bow Afar against the savage foe. Thine heav'nly parents blest thy cheer And made thy cheeks eternally sheer. Learned thou foreknowst in thy skill The Parcae's cruel hands and will. The fate in store o'er and above, And what is pleasing to high Jove, Which year brings death, and in which folk War shall break out with many stroke. What change the flight of comets brings For sceptres and the pow'r of kings. Thou tamest well the Phrygian's heart To learn the cithern's strings and art. Thou honouring well thy mother's worth Tityos, the offspring of the earth, Extendest with thy mighty hand Straight out upon the Stygian sand. Thee, the green Python, full of awe, And thee, the Theban mother saw, With quiver conquor gloriously. For an avenger unto thee Severe Megaera, endlessly Opresses Phlegyas, kept unfree, Starving amidst the hollow rocks, That lying there, the while he mocks, And edges him with feasts profane, Mixed sickness makes his hunger wane. Be present and have memory Of all our hospitality, Lend the Junonian fields thy love Favourable from the heights above. Whether it be most meet and due As th' Achaemenian kindred's thew To call thee Titan roseus, Osirus the frugiferous, Or Mithras, in the Persean hollow Twisting the horns that loathe to follow." [This message has been edited by Essorant (11-27-2008 07:54 PM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Liber Secundus Meanwhile, the son of Maia wades And shoves with wings o'er frigid shades, Returning now from nether lands And bearing mighty Jove's commands. Thick clouds are cluttering everywhere And round him runs the turbid air. No Zephyrs there propelled his pace But dirty mists and dinless space. The river Styx stirs from one side Whose currents round nine regions glide, And from another blasts a blaze Whose fiery waves enclose the ways. Old Laius' shade behind him fares Slow with the wound his form yet bears, That impious blow, whence blood was spilt, Driven more deeply than the hilt. His kinsman's meech had made its path And bore the firsts of Furies wrath. Howe'er he held the medic rod And trimmed his steps and further trod. Then, sterile woods are stupified And holden fields where phantoms hide And irongrayish groves, anon, And Earth herself is awebegone To yawn and open unawares With bonds unlocked from bottom lairs. Livid in each unliving wight, Even the newly lorn of light, The ooze of envy up and under Is wanting not at such a wonder. One there stood forth before the rest With illwill ever in his breast, That oft at gods his hoker hurled, Hence his grave wayfare from the world, And sickened seeing happy folk "Hie then, O happy one" he spoke, "On whate'er purpose thou art prest Whether by heighty Jove's behest Or some grim Fury, led away, To wend toward the light of day, Or witmad witch of Thessaly From hidden burial bidding thee, Alas, about to look at skies, The sun forsaken by thine eyes, The lush green lands, the streams pure springs, Only again to leave those things And sadder than in soul before Glide back unto this gloomy floor" O'er the dark threshold, as he lay, Cerebus sensed them on their way, And all his heads gaped up in air, Harsh e'en to people entering there. As his black neck allthreatening thound, Then had their bones been strewn aground, If nad the god with craft enow O'ercome him with a Lethian bough, With such a lulling to consume His ferrous eyes with threefold sloom. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Essorant, I like most of the stuff you translate, but I have a layman’s question: When you come to a Latin word that has more than one meaning , how do you decide what meaning to use. Don’t tell me you have a committee and it is voted on. You can cut and paste your reply ~~ Yes Chopszticks, I have a committee and we vote on it.~~ |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Chopsticks Good question. It is usually context that suggests a particular meaning. But then again, a word with more than one meaning is not necessarly confined to only one of its meanings. For example the word ferrum "iron" is also used to mean "sword", but it is not necessarily locked into one or the other, instead of implying both "iron" and "sword". Even though "iron" is a bit untimely for the story of Thebes that takes place in the Bronze Age! The word os (plural ora) "mouth" is a bit more complex, for often it extends to mean "face" "features" and even "head". In the line below about the Gorgon engraved in Adrastus' bowl "features" or "face" seems best: illa graves oculos languentiaque ora paene movet vivoque etiam pallescit in auro "She (the gorgon, the decapitated head) heavy eyes and languid features/face almost moves and even yet grows pale in the living gold" But in the below lines "heads" seems to work best. And ferro, ablative singular of ferrum seems best to translate as "(with) iron": Simul ora virum, simul arma manusque fractaque comixto sederunt pectora ferro "At once heads of men, at once weapons, and hands and broken breasts lie with commingled iron" Some more examples are the adjective ferreus "made of iron" also used to mean "stern", and lumen "light" (plural lumina) also used to mean "eye" : iam sparsa solo turbaverat ossa, ni deus horrentum Lethaeo vimine mulcens ferrea tergemino domuisset lumina somno "Now strewn on ground he had thrown their bones, had not the god the horrid (beast) with a Lethean bough lulling tamed his ferreous eyes with a threefold sleep" |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Good answers , thank you for taking the time Essorant. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
There stands a stead and found in fame That known as Taenarus by name, Called thus among th' Inachian theeds, Where Malea's headland upward leads And foaming much admits no sight To gain by gaze its highmost height. Sublime the apex overtowers And fain despects the winds and showers, And lends at length a lodging place Where weary stars may rest their rays. 'Tis there the wind from work opprest May settle down and seek some rest, And there the lane of lightnings' flight. Midway among the mountain's height The hollow clouds environ cling Nor is there plause of soaring wing Nor pulse of thunder e'er so high To reach its summits in the sky. But when the day is setting prone Immense the shadow from it thrown That hoves midsea and outward draws Stretching long edges o'er the waws. Curving its frangent shore away Taenarus forms an inner bay, Not seen so daring as to brave And clamber on the outer wave. There Neptune to their haven leads, From th' Aegean streams, his weary steeds, Their fronts, with hooves touch on terrain, Their ends, still fishforms in the main. |
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turtle Senior Member
since 2009-01-23
Posts 548Harbor |
Hi essy, Buddy you had me for about the first half of this...... Too bad too, I was liking it. There are spelling and punctuation errors, but it's the context mainly Here, this is the worst one. '"Tis there the wind from work opprest" This doesn't make sense. First "opprest" is not a word.. If you mean oppressed, that is a mental and not a physical fatique like work. I think what I'm seeing here is that up to {L11) you where describing your scenario after that you begin using metaphorical words/phrases and this starts to confuse the story. This definitly has potential though. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
I liked the poem a lot Turtle, I know you are real busy elsewhere and you may not know this, but we allow Essy to make up new words. However, I don’t think this was the case, I just think he misspelled the Latin word ~ operose ~ Operose means wearisome in the Latin lingo. You can be operosed mentally or physically. |
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turtle Senior Member
since 2009-01-23
Posts 548Harbor |
Chops buddy, You are one of the few people here to have carried on a conversation with me as one human being to another. Me? I'm just a turtle. Just like the feigh I think I see a in you. Am I busy? Why,.... yes I am. A busy little turtle indeed. When these kids started coming down here, no one else was stepping up to the bat. And, I saw their struggle to get in touch with their emotions, wanting help with expressing those emotions in poetry. Why not? Writing poetry helped me to define my emotions when I was young. You know.....I honestly don't know anything about anyone here. I suppose I could go through everyone's profiles and visit their web sites, then go back through the archives and form an opinion about each and every individual. Why? We're all just human beings here. I don't reckon no one needs to whip out their credentials, unless there's going to be an arrest. Me? I'm just a turtle here to play. Not really wanting to bother anyone. Not looking to unseat anyone. Not looking for romance (I've had internet romance. No thank you). I'm just here to play. If you mean I'm too busy to develop friendships. You're wrong. Post a poem. turtle |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ When these kids started coming down here, no one else was stepping up to the bat. And, I saw their struggle to get in touch with their emotions, wanting help with expressing those emotions in poetry. Why not? Writing poetry helped me to define my emotions when I was young.” Turtle, I think that is great and I have said this forum is lucky to have you and some others on here. I mean this, give me your address and I‘ll send a donation. I hate to see poets on here get off the boat and go straight to Ellis Island . ( Btw, that Ellis Island thingy is a metaphor) Like my bookie says to me lots of times ~~ I don’t know what you’re selling , but I’ll take a dozen ~~ I got one more : Like my Granny would say, ~~ I walked all the way to Baltimore and if that ain’t walking I’ll walk some more.~~ Turtle, if I can think it, I‘ll write it. Btw, you can consider that Granny thingy a poem, a two liner. I walked all the way to Baltimore. If that ain’t walking, I’ll walk some more. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Turtle, Thanks for your comment. But I admit (and hope saying so isn't provoking) that it seemed a bit unlearned and lacking deeper understanding in its main points. quote: The spelling (and sometimes pronunciation) variation -ssed/est, as in blessed/blest, pressed/prest, dressed/drest, etc. has a fairly long life in the language. And it is based on the same kind of sound-behaviour that turns d into t in the words thought, left, slept, set. Who reads poetry widely finds both spellings used here and there, either as legitimately as the other, even if not as common, for the same word. quote: There is much more to do in saying something than just saying it, there is also proving and arguing it. Since when was the word oppressed/opprest locked into only a "mental" meaning? The way I am using it is not much different than (physically or mentally) "overwhelmed". The word oppress is made of the words ob "against" and press (just as the d turning to t, the b of ob turns to p) meaning "press against, crush, overwhelm, etc". There is no demand in the word for only a "mental" sense. |
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turtle Senior Member
since 2009-01-23
Posts 548Harbor |
Hi Essy, No, I'm not provoked by your response I'm sure I'm not as versed in etymology as you and I enjoy learning anywhere I find it. Essy, I always try to read with the readers perspective in mind. I think that, when a reader sees a word they are not familiar with and they try to find this word used in your poem and can't, it diminishes the writers credibility in their mind. Being a person who enjoys delving deeply into word meanings, such as you, you might consider a clearer word choice than opprest. This only serves to confuse your reader and defeat your effort in writing the poem. turtle |
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turtle Senior Member
since 2009-01-23
Posts 548Harbor |
Hey chops, Quote: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ( Btw, that Ellis Island thingy is a metaphor) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ OOOOO...lol Quote: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I walked all the way to Baltimore. If that ain’t walking, I’ll walk some more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I think I see too much walking going on here.......Are you a Tennesse Walker? I walked all the way to Hoboken once....It wasn't where I thought I was going though....... But, I guess getting there is just a matter of putting one foot in front of another...... (a metaphor) [This message has been edited by turtle (02-25-2009 07:33 PM).] |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
(End of the previous paragraph): As famed, a privy path conveys The pallid ghosts upon their ways To swarty Jove, as wealth midst walls, And decks with death his roomy halls. If true th' Arcadian tillers tell A stridor straught is heard from hell And groaning of the damned and dead, And a dark throng thrings o'er the stead. The Furies' voice and grips they say Oft din until the middle day. And Death's doorkeeper threeformed sounds Fright'ning the farmers from their grounds. Here, shrouded o'er in shadowheaps The wingswift god uplandwards leaps And shakes Hell's welkins off his face Serened with living airs and rays. Hence faring through Arcturus' lands Where yet midmoonly silence stands O'er field and folk with no delay So goes the god and wields his way. Along his path, aloft in flight, There Sleep asteering steeds of night, Stirred up to hail the god on high Strayed from his rightway in the sky. Beneath the god the shadow goes, And stolen constellations knows, His ginning and his kenningstow, Despecting Cyrrah's heights below. O'er Phocis too his downlook pours Which land was sullied with his corse. At Thebes, his son's own threshold nigh, Now Laius made much moan and sigh, Cunctating midway in the road To go into the couth abode. But when he found unto his eye His yoke hung up on columns high And saw his chariot as it stood E'en now infected with his blood, He almost flew away in fright. Nor might that of the thunderlight Loftiest Jove's unleast command, Nor weilding of th' Arcadian wand, Restrain his speed, so had it sped, If Laius in his fear had fled. That was thilk day by hap from heaven The Thunderer marked with his levin, When broken birth brought forth a son, 'Twas thou O Euhius, tender one, Prerupted forth and after fire, Taken in careships by thy sire. Therefore the cause and reason came That Tyrian tillers took to game In rivalry and rich delight Passing away the winkless night. Through wones, through wongs, disperst about With wreaths and winebowls drained to drought, Beneath the light and far and broad They yet breathed out the breathless god. Then was the boxwood pipe well played And plauses of the bronzes made, Cymbals whose clangors overcome The pulses of a taurine drum. Cithaeron also mid delight Made sober matrons rage outright, Driven with better drunkenhoods To wander through the wayless woods. So as Bistonians bear with songs Their revelry in rabid throngs Throughfaring Rhodope or else Thringing in middle Ossa's dells. For them one of the flock is feast Halflive from lions' jaws released, For them a luxury to tame With freshnew milk their furor's flame. But if and when the cruel smell Of Ogygian Iacchus swell Then stones and cups from hands are fair To throw and scatter here and there And with spilt blood of blameless friends The day and feasts again commence! In silent airs of such a night The swift Cyllenian glode in flight To th' Echionian monarch's lair, Where lay the king immensely there, Outstraught his limbs, piled up complete With many rich Assyrian sheet. Alas for ignorance so great Of mortal hearts blind to their fate! He held a feast, he fell asleep. Then, senior Laius would upkeep And do that he was bidden do And that he seem not but a hue And false imaginance of the night He donned the shady face and sight, The voice and wonted woolen bands, And as the seer Tiresias stands. His own true locks and chinly beard, His grey and pallor yet appeared, But the false bands about his hair, With olive bound stood out full fair. Here seen, he holds an olive bough With which to touch his bosom now, And willing further not to wait To utter forth these sounds of fate: "This is no time for slumber, thou! O careless of thy brother now, That liest here in covers' height Beneath the dusky depth of night. Long have great deeds been calling thee Thou slothful one, and more shall be. So as upon th' Ionian main Upstirred with southern wind and rain, The captain heedlessly should lie Beneath the blackness of the sky Forgetful of his looms and laws And rudder's turning of the waws, Alas, thou tarriest here e'en so Ignoring dangers thou shouldst know. For now thy brother, fame acknows, With newmade marriage moodstrong grows And yares together might and main By which to overtake the reign Usurp indeed thy part from all And meet his oldhood in thine hall. And Argive dowers therebeside Fill him with animus and pride Nor not in lifelong fellowhood Tydeus, stained by his brother's blood, Augments the gladness of his heart And gives much succour to his part. Hence shows his pride upswollen strong, And thou a promised exile long. The father of the gods above Himself in feeling ruth thereof Hither from heights and unto thee To send this saying hastened me: Hold on to Thebes! And hard offthrust Thy brother blind with kingdomlust, That further yearning in his thought That his own brother's death be brought Let not in courses further run With confidence in frauds begun Or Mycenean queens bring in To mix among Cadmean kin." Thus quoth, and for the steeds of Light Now put the pallid stars to flight, He would away, but as he went His bough and woolen bands offhent. Revealed thus as his grandsire true, O'er his dire grandson's covers drew, And from his throat, with cut so deep, With waves of woundblood drowns his sleep. Rest is thus rent, and full of dread He lifts his limbs and leaps from bed, And weening that he were bebled Shakes off the shadowshower of red. Agrisen at his grandsire sore, He seeks his sibling more and more. As when with hunters' murmurs heard, Fearing their nets, from sleep upstirred, Lusty for war a tigress draws Loos'ning her wangs and showing claws. Anon has she the throng atsprung And homeward bears to bloodyearn young For aliment and end of drouth A man halfbreathing in her mouth: So wroth the rex desires none other But war upon his absent brother. swarty Jove The "Jove" of the underworld (=Pluto) Euhius: another name for Bacchus, the god of wine Iacchus: Another name for Bacchus Cyllenian: Mercury Echionian: Theban (From Echion, who helped found Thebes) glode: the (correct) past tense of glide corse: corpse wone: habitation wong: field drouth: drought looms: tools, equipment agrise: to shudder with fear wang: jaw or cheek bloodyearn: eager for blood |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
Essorant, the parts are greater than the whole, but some of the lines are priceless . The next time I try to buy a pot, and after due consideration, I get called and loose the pot I am going to use one of the lines ~ He almost flew away in fright.~ By that line I’m advertising the fact that I’m bluffing and when I’m not, I’ll win a big pot. There are a lot of good lines, but alas, when you add them ALL up, the parts are greater than the whole. I going to post this and go back to improving my stuff., but for the life of me I don’t know why. In a few days I’ll be 87 years old , but that alone means nothing. Have a nice Canadian sunset. ( All the winos know that Canadian Sunset is a cheap Canadian whiskey ) It’s ~NVO~ ( Not very old ) |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
Thanks for being a faithful reader. I don't mind if parts of the translation are greater than the whole (if that is true). Mind you the "whole" translation is not even done yet. But I think Statius' work itself deserves to be called perfect, for it is a work that is thoroughly polished and done by its author. That is literally what "perfect" means. Anyway, hope you have a good b-day, Chops. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
You are welcome and I am a faithful reader. I believe that you do care what we think Perfect, is when my neighbor takes her lady for a walk. |
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Essorant Member Elite
since 2002-08-10
Posts 4769Regina, Saskatchewan; Canada |
quote: Is that in question, Chops? I always care about what others think, but it takes a lot before I am willing to give into something they suggest I ought or ought not to do. |
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chopsticks Senior Member
since 2007-10-02
Posts 888The US, |
“ Is that in question, Chops? I always care about what others think, but it takes a lot before I am willing to give into something they suggest I ought or ought not to do. “ No my friend not a question, more like my thought of the day. And, it is obvious Essy, you are no push over. Now as that wise old sailor would say, go translate something or read a book or what ever comes first. |
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