Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Poem of the Month
Angustam amice pauperiem pati
robustus acri militia puer
condiscat et Parthos ferocis
uexet eques metuendus hasta
uitamque sub diuo et trepidis agat 5
in rebus. Illum ex moenibus hosticis
matrona bellantis tyranni
prospiciens et adulta uirgo
suspiret, eheu, ne rudis agminum
sponsus lacessat regius asperum 10
tactu leonem, quem cruenta
per medias rapit ira caedes.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
mors et fugacem persequitur uirum
nec parcit inbellis iuuentae 15
poplitibus timidoue tergo.
Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae,
intaminatis fulget honoribus
nec sumit aut ponit securis
arbitrio popularis aurae. 20
Virtus, recludens inmeritis mori
caelum, negata temptat iter uia
coetusque uolgaris et udam
spernit humum fugiente pinna.
Est et fideli tuta silentio 25
merces: uetabo, qui Cereris sacrum
uolgarit arcanae, sub isdem
sit trabibus fragilemque mecum
soluat phaselon; saepe Diespiter
neglectus incesto addidit integrum, 30
raro antecedentem scelestum
deseruit pede Poena claudo.
Horace Carmina Liber III Carmen II
Let the robust boy learn by rote to experience
the harrowing hardship through sharp military service,
but in a friendly way, and let him vex by horse the
ferocious Parthian with fearful lance.
And let him lead his life outdoors
and in the middle of dangerous action.
At this one, from hostile battlements, let
the matron of warlike tyrant and maiden daughter
sigh, "Oh, don't let the raw trooper/lover
provoke the royal lion, rough to the
touch, whom cruel anger snaps
through the middle of gore."
It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country:
And death pursues the fleeing man,
and it will not spare the unwarlike youth's
back nor the timid hollow of his knee.
Virtue, ignorant of sordid failure,
shines out with uncontaminated honor
nor takes up nor puts down the state power
at the arbitrary bidding of the mob.
Virtue, that lays open the sky for
undeserving dead, attempts passage on
forbidden ways and spurns the vulgar crowd
and wet earth by ascending wings.
There is a safe reward for loyal silence:
I will forbid those who broadcast the sacred
Arcana of Ceres to live under the same roof
with me or cast off the fragile ships.
Often negligent Jupiter will include
the honest with the impure but
rarely will lame footed Punishment stop pursuing
the wicked no matter how he started.
Horace Epodes, Book 3, Poem 2
What a difference from the wine and warmth and feast and willing, laughing girls in dark corners of the last poem to this harsh celebration of martial spirit and elan. Horace has definitely butched up. I have to admit I don't get the lion part. Is the lion, like Virtue or the named gods, a symbol for warlike spirit or is it a real lion? I can't tell. Having watched Rome on HBO lately and read some more, I have to say that a heartfelt 'it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country' is as pure a Roman sentiment as exists. It is, alas, far too foreign a concept to far too many of us.
The Parthians were as tough an opponent as the Romans faced at that time. Their specialty was the lightning raid on horseback and then when the Roman cavalry lit out in pursuit, the Parthians would turn around in their saddles and shoot arrows accurately at their pursuers. (The Parthian shot--the final, withering words in an argument as one leaves--is the legacy of Parthian cavalry archery skill and has transmuted to 'parting shot' in modern English).
The rest of the poem is really self explanatory (and besides, I don't know what the arcane knowledge of Ceres is). The next poem is by Wilfred Owen, who died in November, 1918, and contains an echo of this poem.
robustus acri militia puer
condiscat et Parthos ferocis
uexet eques metuendus hasta
uitamque sub diuo et trepidis agat 5
in rebus. Illum ex moenibus hosticis
matrona bellantis tyranni
prospiciens et adulta uirgo
suspiret, eheu, ne rudis agminum
sponsus lacessat regius asperum 10
tactu leonem, quem cruenta
per medias rapit ira caedes.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
mors et fugacem persequitur uirum
nec parcit inbellis iuuentae 15
poplitibus timidoue tergo.
Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidae,
intaminatis fulget honoribus
nec sumit aut ponit securis
arbitrio popularis aurae. 20
Virtus, recludens inmeritis mori
caelum, negata temptat iter uia
coetusque uolgaris et udam
spernit humum fugiente pinna.
Est et fideli tuta silentio 25
merces: uetabo, qui Cereris sacrum
uolgarit arcanae, sub isdem
sit trabibus fragilemque mecum
soluat phaselon; saepe Diespiter
neglectus incesto addidit integrum, 30
raro antecedentem scelestum
deseruit pede Poena claudo.
Horace Carmina Liber III Carmen II
Let the robust boy learn by rote to experience
the harrowing hardship through sharp military service,
but in a friendly way, and let him vex by horse the
ferocious Parthian with fearful lance.
And let him lead his life outdoors
and in the middle of dangerous action.
At this one, from hostile battlements, let
the matron of warlike tyrant and maiden daughter
sigh, "Oh, don't let the raw trooper/lover
provoke the royal lion, rough to the
touch, whom cruel anger snaps
through the middle of gore."
It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country:
And death pursues the fleeing man,
and it will not spare the unwarlike youth's
back nor the timid hollow of his knee.
Virtue, ignorant of sordid failure,
shines out with uncontaminated honor
nor takes up nor puts down the state power
at the arbitrary bidding of the mob.
Virtue, that lays open the sky for
undeserving dead, attempts passage on
forbidden ways and spurns the vulgar crowd
and wet earth by ascending wings.
There is a safe reward for loyal silence:
I will forbid those who broadcast the sacred
Arcana of Ceres to live under the same roof
with me or cast off the fragile ships.
Often negligent Jupiter will include
the honest with the impure but
rarely will lame footed Punishment stop pursuing
the wicked no matter how he started.
Horace Epodes, Book 3, Poem 2
What a difference from the wine and warmth and feast and willing, laughing girls in dark corners of the last poem to this harsh celebration of martial spirit and elan. Horace has definitely butched up. I have to admit I don't get the lion part. Is the lion, like Virtue or the named gods, a symbol for warlike spirit or is it a real lion? I can't tell. Having watched Rome on HBO lately and read some more, I have to say that a heartfelt 'it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country' is as pure a Roman sentiment as exists. It is, alas, far too foreign a concept to far too many of us.
The Parthians were as tough an opponent as the Romans faced at that time. Their specialty was the lightning raid on horseback and then when the Roman cavalry lit out in pursuit, the Parthians would turn around in their saddles and shoot arrows accurately at their pursuers. (The Parthian shot--the final, withering words in an argument as one leaves--is the legacy of Parthian cavalry archery skill and has transmuted to 'parting shot' in modern English).
The rest of the poem is really self explanatory (and besides, I don't know what the arcane knowledge of Ceres is). The next poem is by Wilfred Owen, who died in November, 1918, and contains an echo of this poem.
# posted by Roger Fraley @ 7:20 PM 
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I agree Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori is a great line. But surely, technically false - it's not anything to die (even for one's country)! Being willing to die for one's country, one's beliefs, for someone else, now there's something! Dying for one's country but not willing to - non dulce, misere.
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