O Lycidas, we have lived to see the day—an evil never dreamed—when a stranger, holder of our little farm, could say: "This is mine; begone, old tenants!"
o Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena nostri
(quod numquam veriti sumus) ut possessor agelli
diceret: "haec mea sunt; veteres migrate coloni."
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
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Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Foreclosure
Vergil, Eclogues 9.2-4 (tr. H. Rushton Fairclough):