Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Summer of Horace: Ode 1.8, Meringued Pie

Hello again, dear readers! It is that time again, so strap in your poetry reading helmets (safety first) and let's begin!

The Latin:
Lydia, dic, per omnis
te deos oro, Sybarin cur properes amando
perdere, cur apricum
oderit Campum, patiens pulueris atque solis,
cur neque militaris               5
inter aequalis equitet, Gallica nec lupatis
temperet ora frenis.
Cur timet flauum Tiberim tangere? Cur oliuum
sanguine uiperino
cautius uitat neque iam liuida gestat armis
bracchia, saepe disco
saepe trans finem iaculo nobilis expedito?
quid latet, ut marinae
filium dicunt Thetidis sub lacrimosa Troia
funera, ne uirilis
cultus in caedem et Lycias proriperet cateruas? 


The Translation:


Tell me Lydia, by all
the gods I beg you, why do you hurry
to ruin Sybaris by your love,
why does he hate the sunny field, enduring the dust and the sun
and why does he not ride among equal soldiers
nor temper the mouths of Gallic steeds with pointed bits?
Why is he frightened to touch the yellow Tiber?
Why does he avoid the olive with more caution than viper's ichor?
And does not now bear his weapons in his bruised arms,
which are often praised for the disc or
the javelin thrown across the border?
Why is he hiding, just they say that the son of
aquatic Thetis did before the tragic death of Troy,
Lest his virile disguise would bring the Lycian band
to slaughter.

I suppose it's bound to happen to everybody at some point. You get in a relationship and then the rest of your life just kind of falls apart because you're so distracted. I don't know this Sybaris fellow, nor his girl Lydia, but apparently that's what's happening here. The one allusion at the end of the is to Achilles, whose mother tried to disguise him as a woman so he wouldn't die at Troy, (Spoiler alert: it doesn't work).

No comments:

Post a Comment