Thursday, February 28, 2019
Trumpet Solo
William Langland, Piers Plowman 5.337-345, tr. Paul Hardwick:
Thanks to Eric Thomson for the illustration from the Rothschild Canticles.
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There was laughing and scowling and cries of 'Let go the cup!'The same, tr. Terence Tiller:
Deals and drinking commenced;
and they sat there until Evensong, singing occasionally,
until Glutton had gulped a gallon and a gill.
His guts began to grumble like two greedy sows;
he pissed half a pint in the time it takes to say the Paternoster,
and blew his round trumpet at the end of his spine,
so everyone who heard that horn held their nose afterwards
and wished it had been polished with wisp of furze.
There was laughynge and lourynge and 'Lat go the cuppe!'
[Bargaynes and beverages bigonne to arise;]
And seten so til evensong, and songen umwhile,
Til Gloton hadde yglubbed a galon and a gille. 340
His guttes gonne to gothelen as two gredy sowes;
He pissed a potel in a Paternoster-while,
And blew his rounde ruwet at his ruggebones ende,
That alle that herde that horn helde hir nose after
And wisshed it hadde ben wexed with a wispe of firses! 345
So they laughed and they lowered and yelled, 'Let's have a drink,'The same, tr. Peter Sutton:
And sat there till Evensong, singing now and then,
Till Gluttony had golloped a gallon or more
And his guts now started to rumble like two greedy sows.
He pissed four pints in the space of a Pater-noster,
And blew the round bugle at his backbone's end
So that all who heard that horn held their noses,
And wished he had bunged it with a bunch of whins.
There was laughing and larking and "Let go the cup!"Rothschild Canticles (Flanders, 14th century; Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, MS 404, fol. 134r):
And swigging and swilling and settling of deals,
And they sat on till Evensong, singing some snatches,
Till Gluttony'd glugged down a gallon and more
And his guts started grunting with greed like two sows.
He pissed an Our Father's worth, pot after pot
And blew such a blast from his bloated behind
That all hearing his hornpipe held their noses
And wished it were wiped with a wisp of sharp furze.
Thanks to Eric Thomson for the illustration from the Rothschild Canticles.
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Labels: noctes scatologicae