Thursday, October 27, 2022

 

A Little Classical Anthology

Karl Maurer (1948-2015), An Introduction to Robert Frost: A Talk with Notes. Edited by Adam Cooper and Taylor Posey (Asheville: Taylor Posey, Publisher, 2021), p. 30:
Alcman's description of the world asleep at night (frag. 1); the magical opening lines of Xenophanes' poem about a symposium, which simply names objects in the hall (frag. 89); many quiet passages in Vergil, in which he describes the night (e.g. Aen. 5.835 ff.); the first stanza of 'Poverty' by Thomas Traherne; Coleridge's snapshots in 'Frost at Midnight'; a hundred places in Borges, that do nothing except describe the passing hour. These places, which I love above all others in literature, are those that most embarrass analytical criticism.
Alcman, fragment 58, tr. C.M. Bowra, Greek Lyric Poetry (1961; rpt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), pp. 70-71:
The peaks and the gullies of the mountains are asleep, the headlands and the torrents, the forest and all four-footed creatures that the black earth nourishes, the wild beasts of the mountains and the race of bees and the monsters in the depth of the dark-blue sea, and the tribe of the long-winged birds are asleep.

εὕδουσιν δ' ὀρέων
    κορυφαί τε καὶ φάραγγες,
    πρώονές τε καὶ χαράδραι
ὕλά θ' ἑρπέτά θ' ὅσσα
    τρέφει μέλαινα γαῖα,
θῆρές τ' ὀρεσκῷοι
    καὶ γένος μελισσᾶν
καὶ κνώδαλ' ἐν βένθεσσι πορφυρέας ἁλός,
εὕδουσιν δ' οἰωνῶν
    φῦλα τανυπτερύγων.
Xenophanes, fragment 1, lines 1-12 (tr. M.L. West):
For now the floor is clean, and everybody's hands
  and cups; a servant garlands us with wreaths;
another offers fragrant perfume from a dish;
  the mixing-bowl's set up, brimful of cheer,
and further jars of wine stand ready, promising
  never to fail—soft wine that smells of flowers.
The frankincense sends out its holy scent all round
  the room; there's water, cool and clear and sweet;
bread lies to hand, gold-brown; a splendid table, too,
  with cheeses and thick honey loaded down.
The altar in the middle's decked about with flowers;
  festivity and song pervade the house.

νῦν γὰρ δὴ ζάπεδον καθαρὸν καὶ χεῖρες ἁπάντων
  καὶ κύλικες· πλεκτοὺς δ᾽ ἀμφιτιθεῖ στεφάνους,
ἄλλος δ᾽ εὐῶδες μύρον ἐν φιάλῃ παρατείνει·
  κρητὴρ δ᾽ ἕστηκεν μεστὸς ἐϋφροσύνης·
ἄλλος δ᾽ οἶνος ἑτοῖμος, ὃς οὔποτέ φησι προδώσειν,
  μείλιχος ἐν κεράμοις, ἄνθεος ὀζόμενος·
ἐν δὲ μέσοις ἁγνὴν ὀδμὴν λιβανωτὸς ἵησιν,
  ψυχρὸν δ᾽ ἔστιν ὕδωρ καὶ γλυκὺ καὶ καθαρόν·
παρκέαται δ᾽ ἄρτοι ξανθοὶ γεραρή τε τράπεζα
  τυροῦ καὶ μέλιτος πίονος ἀχθομένη·
βωμὸς δ᾽ ἄνθεσιν ἀν τὸ μέσον πάντη πεπύκασται,
  μολπὴ δ᾽ ἀμφὶς ἔχει δώματα καὶ θαλίη.
Vergil, Aeneid 5.835-839 (tr. Allen Mandelbaum):
And now damp Night had almost reached her midpoint
along the skies; beneath their oars the sailors
were stretching out on their hard rowing benches,
their bodies sinking into easy rest,
when, gliding lightly from the stars of heaven,
Sleep split the darkened air, cast back the shadows...

iamque fere mediam caeli Nox humida metam
contigerat; placida laxabant membra quiete
sub remis fusi per dura sedilia nautae:
cum levis aetheriis delapsus Somnus ab astris
aëra dimovit tenebrosum et dispulit umbras...



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