Marci
Walker
On this page you will find my tentative experiments in composing original Latin Verse in a variety of metres and on a variety of subjects -- serious, frivolous and personal.
I use the word 'tentative' advisedly, being a mere tiro poet, and a self-taught one at that, so do let me know if you find any oddities, false quantities or just plain nonsense -- email 'publisher' at this website address.
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De ape Insulae Vectis illaqueata ab aranea
(fabula vera in elegos versa)
Elegiacs; based, as they say, on a true story; Bombus = Bumble-Bee.
Bombilat inscite Bombus prope litora aprica,Ut solet, apricans soleque bombit apis.
‘Tu caveas, Bombe, sine poena vivus inire
Vestibulum stygio supplicioque nefas –
In foribus vitreis casses hic celat Arachnes,
Letiferis filis celat aranea se.’
Retrorsum retrahit sero se rusticus ille,
In campos liber nunc revolare volens.
Alis Bombulus heu! volitat moriturus ineptis,
Et neque texturas lumina texta vident.
‘Venatrix apium versuta, perita venenis
Insidiisque, rogo te miserere inopis,
Funibus astrictis constringere desine quaeso,
Si placeas, etiam desine rete malo.’
Sic oro frustra: captus tunc illaqueatus,
Infelix Bombus, morsus araneola.
Stridor inhumanis insecti ululatibus auctus,
Luctu commoveor bestiolaeque dolo.
‘Naturae teneat cursum res,’ traditur, ‘ipsa.’
‘Sane,’ inquam, ‘sed sit res utinam melior.’
A Bumble-bee on the Isle of Wight ensnared by a spider (A true story in verse)
A Bumble-bee bumbles unmindfully beside the sunny sea-shore, as is his wont, and sunning himself in the sun the bee buzzes. “Watch out, Bumble, it’s forbidden to enter this vestibule alive without suffering a deadly punishment – here in the glass atrium a spider conceals Arachne’s webs, in death-dealing threads conceals herself.” Too late the rustic bee bends his course backwards, now wishing to fly free back to the fields. Alas, the doomed little bumble flies on clumsy wings, nor does he spy the woven strands. “O cunning bee-huntress, skilled in poisons and ambushes, I ask that you have mercy on the innocent, I ask that you cease to constrict with your tightening ropes, if you please, I ask even that you abandon your wicked web.” Thus I entreat in vain: the unfortunate bumble is captured, ensnared, bitten by the little spider. The buzzing of the insect is magnified by inhuman screams, and I am disturbed by the lamentation of the little beast and by the deceit. “Let Nature take its course,” they say. “Quite so,” I reply, “But would that it were a kinder one.”
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Contra Fidem
Hexameters; a quasi-Lucretian meditation, originally intended to form the exordium for an epic poem whose central thesis was to be that blind adherence to religious dogma – the kind of irrationality that gives rise both to Creation ‘science’ and suicide bombers – is a debilitating shackle on human reason. I have yet to make progress beyond these lines!
‘To increase the sum of happiness, and to diminish the sum of misery, is the only right aim both of reason and of religion.’ (Walter Savage Landor)
Ecce catenati nostris erroribus omnesEt vivunt homines et qui vixere per aevum,
Iudiciis pravis mentes animique ligati,
Humanas acies onerant inscitia saxa:
Quin fallacia sit mortalis non dubitari.
Sed patientibus et rapidis rationis ab undis
Abluitur scopulus; lautus velut ab veritate
Quae sapientia fert, paulatim solvitur error.
Cogitat ille probe secum qui cogitat arte,
Libertate potest totas res quisque videre
Consiliis aequis, expersque superstitionis.
Sed pietatis homo caelestis, funibus umquam
Cingitur, ille nequit nodosis solvere sese
Doctrinis fidei; defessis fluctibus aevi
Conteritur numquam sanctumque immobile saxum.
Vana fides, dic – quae rationi impervia semper,
Ingeniisque animis semper quoque perniciosa –
Quomodo, quassatrix hominum, tu vincere corda
Ac mentes posses, possisque per omnia saecla
Vaniloqua ventres complereque credulitate?
Damnosumque nefas tanto quod corda venenat:
Iustior humani talis sit meta fidelis
Et mentis qualis nobis augescere summa
Gaudia velleque res etiam decrescere nequam.
Against Faith
Behold all men, all who live and ever lived, shackled by their own errors, hearts and minds bound to misguided judgments, the rocks of ignorance weighing down human understanding: truly is error our mortal situation. But the rocks are cleansed by the patient yet rapid tide of reason; as if washed by the truth that wisdom brings error is gradually wiped away. He thinks rightly who thinks systematically, can perceive everything independently, with impartial judgment and free from superstition. But the man of heavenly piety is ever encircled by ropes, he cannot loose himself from the knotty doctrines of faith; the unyielding holy rock is never worn down by the weary waves of the ages. O tell me empty faith – you who are always impervious to reason, pernicious to intellect and understanding alike – how, o shatterer of men, are you are able to conquer hearts and minds, and have been in every age able to fill our bellies with empty credulity? That which poisons hearts so much is dreadful and unholy: let the more righteous goal of human faith and reason be such as to desire to increase the highest happiness and to decrease evil.
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Cupido honoris vana(elegia modulata)
Elegiac couplets with Leonine rhymes in both hexameter and pentameter -- those in the pentameter forming repetitive, chorus-like refrains. I have laid out the poem below in half-lines to make it look (as well as read) more like a modern (or at least medieval) song lyric than a classical quantitative poem. Standard layout would be:
Spes aspernatae, nec acceptae nec amatae
Atque meis dominis, atque meis animis ...
The layout below is an experiment in how such classical verse might be adapted to make it more suitable for musical setting. This and the following accentual poem Fragilitas form a pair on the same subject, viz: repeated rejection by publishers, editors and literary agents!
Spes aspernatae,
Nec acceptae nec amatae
Atque meis Dominis
Atque meis animis.
Quare dic quaeso
Noceatis me mihi laeso,
Absque meo clipeo,
Hostibus in cuneo?
Solus languesco,
Deceptus fraude tabesco,
In laqueis stupide,
Carceribus cupide.
Scriptis illectis
Et consiliisque senectis,
Dedecus accipio,
Sordidus excipio.
Nec me dementem,
Necnon obtestor amentem:
Mens iterum valeat,
Spes iterum redeat!
The vain seeking after distinction
O spurned hopes -- neither agreeable to nor desired both by my masters1 and my heart -- tell me, I beg, why do you still hurt me when I am injured, without my shield, with my enemies arrayed against me? Alone I languish, deceived by a trick I pine in bonds foolishly, in prison eagerly2. With my writings unread and my plans grown weary, I take up the shame, base as I am I accept it. I solemnly declare that I am not mad nor yet insane: let my mind be well once more, once more let hope return!
[1. Dominis -- i.e. sundry publishers, agents, editors; 2. cupide because by submitting proposals I actively seek out opportunities for rejection!]
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FragilitasA companion piece to Cupido honoris vana above, this is non-quantitative, accentual verse expressly written to be sung. The rhythm is produced by alternation of stressed and unstressed syllables rather than syllable quantity. The rhyme scheme is eight-syllabled iambic – or 8pp according to Dag Norberg’s notation (An Introduction to the Study of Medieval Latin Versification) – with each stanza rhyming in the pattern aabccb. Note the alliteration of every third line, in which every word begins with the same letter; also the verbs in lines 3 and 6 of the first stanza are in the first person (sentio … fugio), lines 9 and 12 of the second stanza are in the second-person (memineris … aberis), and lines 15 and 18 of the third stanza are in the third person (debeat … noceat).
In mente mea fragilem
Me esse et difficilem
semperque semper sentio.
E vanis nunc consiliis
Et vacuis praesidiis
furtivus furtim fugio.
Dum recido ad nihilum
In egestate tui sum
me miserum memineris.
Dum mentis in paludibus
Et desum potestatibus
abusque absens aberis?
Nunc repulso a domino,Confuso me in animo,
donare donum debeat.
Qui plenus potestatis fit
Non nimis gloriosus sit,
nec nemini non noceat.
My fragile mind
Ever and anon my mind feels fragile and troubled. Now furtively thief-like I flee from vain plans and empty strongholds. Will you remember miserable me while I amount to nothing, in need of your presence? Will you be so far away while my mind is in the mire and I am powerless? Now that I have been rejected by my master1, my spirit in disorder, let him bestow a gift. He who is made powerful, let him not be excessively proud, nor hurt anyone.
[1. domino -- as in Cupido honoris vana above]* * *
Plato Mi
Hendecasyllables; Plato is my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.
Tu carissimus es caniculorum,
Plato mi, mihi callidissimusque:
Tu stertens quoque semper impudenter
Stratis, me gelido, cubare raptis
Furtive potes immemorque dormis.
Si fortasse ruas viam iocose
Pellens papilionem in aere agentem,
Tu tutus mihi, machinis vitatis,
Reddas semper, et immemorque mortis.
Felicissimus es caniculorum.
Dear Plato
You are to me, my dear Plato, the dearest of little dogs, and the most cunning: stealthily having stolen the sheets you lie down, shamelessly always snoring, too, and while I am shivering, heedless you sleep. If perhaps playfully you should rush headlong into the road putting to flight a butterfly fluttering on the breeze, may you always come back safe to me, having avoided the cars, and heedless of death. You are the luckiest of little dogs.
* * *
In Colle Concavo ambulans
Scazons or 'limping' iambics; for more on this pleasant spot: Coombe Hill.
Amoena moles, optimi loci palmamDedi tibi, dum prata per tua errabam:
Ubique palor cum caniculo, passim
Cuniculosas ille per vias currens
Comesque laetus. Hic columna nunc sursum,
Stilus superbus imminens super campis
Quibus sonorum tinnule sonat templum.
Renidet aestas: murmurat iocosa aura
Per arboresque vepribus susurratve,
Crescitve ventus aptus ad volandumque
Ventosa vela: subvolant simul corda,
Cadit deorsum in stragulis agris cura.
Rambling on Coombe Hill
O delightful hill, to you I have awarded the prize of best place of all as I rove through your meadows: I wander everywhere with my little dog, while he capers here and there along rabbity paths, a happy companion. Now here arises the column, a proud monument overhanging the plain, in which the sonorous church rings clangingly. Summer shines cheerfully: playful breezes murmur through the trees or whisper among the bushes, or a wind increases suitable for flying breeze-blown kites: at the same time as our hearts fly up, worries tumble down into the patchwork fields.
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Coming soon
VATES
The Journal of New Latin Poetry
[See more Neo-Latin poetry in ANNUS MIRABILIS and BRITANNICA LATINA]
All texts
© Mark Walker, 2010
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