Henry of Settimello: HENRY OF SETTIMELLO: ELEGIA (fl. c. 1190?)

Quare,
perfida, me cogis turpia probra pati?
Gentibus obprobrium sum crebraque fabula vulgi;
dedecus agnoscit tota platea meum.
Me digito monstrant, subsannant dentibus omnes,
ut monstrum monstror dedecorosus ego.

Why, perfidious one, do you force me to endure shameful reproaches?
I am a reproach to peoples and a frequent tale of the crowd;
the whole square recognizes my disgrace.
They point me out with a finger, all jeer at me with their teeth,
so that I am shown forth as a dishonorable monster.

Mordeor obprobriis: de me mala cantica cantat
vulgus, et horrendus sum sibi psalmus ego.
Fama per antiphrasin cantat multumque cachinnum
de me ludificans impia turba movet.
Concutit a tergo michi multa ciconia rostrum,
hic aures asini fingit, et ille canem.

I am bitten by reproaches: the vulgar sings evil ditties about me,
and I am a dreadful psalm to itself.
Fame sings by antiphrasis and stirs up much cachinnation,
mocking me, the impious crowd moves.
Many a stork shakes its beak at me from behind,
this one gives me the ears of an ass, and that one a dog's.

Turba molendini, grex furni, concio templi
in mea facundis vocibus acta sonant.
Si me commendet Naso, si musa Maronis,
si tuba Lucani, vix bona fama foret.
Quem semel horrendis maculis infamia nigrat
ad bene tergendum multa laborat aqua.

The crowd of the mill, the herd of the oven, the congregation of the temple
are acted and ring out in my affairs with eloquent voices.
If Naso praises me, if the muse of Maro, if the trumpet of Lucan,
scarcely would there be a good reputation.
Whom once infamy blackens with horrid stains,
much water labors to wash away well.

Fata neronizant in me: michi triste prophetant
Astra poli, michi dat tristia signa polus.
O dolor, o pudor, o gravitas, o tristia fata!
Sum miser et nulli sum miserandus ego.

The fates lay Neronian doom upon me: the stars of the heavens prophesy sadly for me,
the sky gives me gloomy signs. O dolor, o pudor, o gravitas, o gloomy fates!
I am wretched, and to no one am I to be pitied.

O bona prosperitas, ubi nunc es? Nunc mea versa est
in luctum cithara, fit lacrimosa lira.
O mala dulcedo, subito que sumpta venenas,
queve recompensas mellea felle gravi!
O felix qui non est usus prosperitate!

O good prosperity, where now are you? Now my cithara is turned
into mourning, the lyre becomes tearful.
O bad sweetness, suddenly taken and made into poisons,
and into recompenses honeyed with heavy gall!
O happy he who has not been used to prosperity!

Namvenit ex sola prosperitate dolor.
Non sine felle suo dulcet fortuna nec albet
absque nigredine, nec mons sine valle fuit.
Cui multum mellis, multum dedit ipsa veneni;
mel vomuit primum felleus ille sapor.

For sorrow came from mere prosperity alone.
Not without its gall is sweet fortune, nor does it gleam without blackness, nor was any mountain without a valley.
To which she who gave much honey, gave much of poison itself;
that honey first vomited that bitter, gall-like savor.

Sic gravius cadit hic quem format forma gigantis
quam nanus cuius parvula forma sedet.
Ut plumbum, gravius pluma paleaque lapillus,
sic gravius cadit hic qui bona multa tulit.
Hic ego, qui fueram satur omni prosperitate,
hoc verum fateor omnibus esse modis.

Thus more heavily falls this one whom the shape of a giant forms
than the dwarf upon whom a very small shape sits.
As lead, more heavily than a plume and than chaff or a little stone,
so more heavily falls this one who bore many goods.
I, this man, who had been sated with every prosperity,
this truth I confess to be so in all respects.

Numinis ambiguos vultus deprendo, novercam
sentio Fortunam, que modo mater erat.
Sum miser et miseri nullus miserans miseretur:
in peius veniunt omnia dira michi.
Temperat assidue pro me Fortuna venenum,
quo sitit illa caput mortificare meum.

I discern the ambiguous looks of the divinity, I feel Fortune as a stepmother,
who but a little while ago was a mother. I am miserable and none pitying the miserable pities me:
dreadful things come altogether worse for me. Fortune constantly tempers for me a poison,
with which she thirsts to mortify my head.

Nil agit. Infelix, perii! Nequit ergo nocere
amplius: extincto vulnera nulla nocent.

It does nothing. Unhappy one, I have perished! Therefore he can no longer harm
any more: with the destroyer extinct, wounds harm no one.

Heu, quid agam, quid agam? Plorabo. Sufficit istud?

Alas, what shall I do, what shall I do? I will weep. Will that suffice?

Non, quia fata michi deteriora parant.
Quid tibi, magne, tuli, quid, Jupiter? Unde nocendi
ista sitis?

No — because the fates are preparing worse things for me.
What have I borne for you, great one, what, Jupiter? Whence is that thirst to injure?

Celo fulmina nulla tuli,
Nec petii thalamos Junonis, nec volui, nec
seva giganteis fratribus arma dedi.
Cur michi, seve, noces? Cur?

I have borne no hidden thunderbolts,
Nor did I seek Juno's bridal-chambers, nor did I desire them, nor
did I give savage arms to my gigantic brothers.
Why do you harm me, cruel one? Why?

Cur? Dic. ‚ Nescio.

Why? Say. ‚ I do not know.

‚ Nescis?
Ergo quid innocuo, Jupiter alte, noces?
Hic nimis insanum redolet, caret et Salomone,
qui nocet innocuo quique nocere cupit.

‚ Do you not know?
Ergo why harm the innocent, O lofty Jupiter?
This one reeks too much of madness, and is even without Solomon,
who harms the innocent and who longs to harm.

Namnimis iratus, nimis superbus et ultra,
qui ferit insontem, crimine dante locum.
Quid me persequeris igitur?Victoriaparva
est miserum multis ledere possemalis.
Desine.

For you are too angry, too proud and excessive,
you who strike the innocent, giving place to accusation.
Why then do you pursue me? Victory is small;
it is miserable to harm many — I could wound many.
Desist.

Quid mirum si Davum vincat Achilles
et si Tersiten conterat Hector equo?
Nam, quotiens miserum probus expugnare laborat,
se misero similem nititur esse probus.
Ad lacrimas redeo, quarum michi copia, quarum
excursus salsis potibus ora bibunt.

What wonder if Achilles conquer Davus
and if Hector trample Tersites with his horse?
For whenever the upright man labors to expel the wretched,
the upright man strives to appear like the wretched.
I return to tears, of which I have abundance, of whose
outflow the mouths will drink with salty draughts.

Est cibus anxietas, lacrime sunt pocula, pena
panis, vina dolor, est mihi vita mori.
Quod patior, pallor loquitur maciesque figurat;
indicat exsanguis turpiter alba cutis;
nam facies habitum mentis studiumque fatetur,
mensque quod intus agit nuntiat illa foris;
internique status liber est et pagina vultus;
exterior macies intus amara legit.
Heu miser, heu demens, heu cecus!

Anxiety is food, tears are cups, punishment my bread, pain my wines, life to me is death.
What I suffer, pallor speaks and gauntness shapes;
the bloodless white skin shamefully reveals;
for the face confesses the habit of the mind and its zeal, and that which the mind works within that proclaims without;
the inner state is an open book and the countenance a page;
the outward gauntness reads bitter things within. Heavv wretch, hev madman, hev blind!

Semina mundi
iratos animos in mea fata trahunt:
est mihi terra nocens, ignis gravis, unda nociva;
aer tristitia perfidiore nocet.
Sic mihi septenis nocet impia turba planetis:
quilibet in nostra morte planeta furit.
Saturnus falcem, fulmen fert Jupiter, arma
Mars, sol fervorem, dira venena Venus,
Mercurius virgam, cupidas fert Luna sagittas:
septem septena concitat arma cohors.

Seeds of the world
draw angry minds into my fates:
to me the earth is harmful, the fire heavy, the wave noxious;
the air harms me with a more treacherous sadness.
Thus an impious throng of seven planets harms me sevenfold:
each planet rages for our death.
Saturn bears the sickle, Jupiter bears the thunderbolt, Mars bears arms,
the sun brings fever, cruel poisons Venus,
Mercury a rod, the desirous Moon bears arrows:
the cohort of seven stirs up sevenfold arms.

Quo fugiam, vel quid faciam?Morsundique claudit,
ne fugiam, cunctas imperiosa vias.
Ve michi, ve misero, ve prosperitate carenti!
Ve cui scire datur quicquid in orbe nocet!

Whither shall I flee, or what shall I do? Death hems me in on every side, imperiously shutting off all the ways of flight.
Woe to me, woe to the wretched, woe to him deprived of prosperity!
Woe to him to whom it is granted to know whatever in the world does harm!

Ex quo prima parens vetito ieiunia fregit,
nullus in hoc misero tam fuit orbe miser:
nec Titius lacerus, refugis nec Tantalus undis,
nec male qui rexit lora paterna puer.
Orbatus Niobes, Job vermes, sibila Cadmi,

Since then the first parent broke forbidden fasts,
no one in this wretched world was so sorely miserable:
neither Tityus torn, nor Tantalus by receding waters,
nor the boy who ill held his paternal reins.
Bereft Niobes, Job with worms, the hisses of Cadmus,

hec collata michi prosperitate vigent.
Ergo quis infelix patitur peiora? Quis ille
Tristanus qui me tristia plura tulit?

These things, set against my prosperity, thrive.
Therefore who, unhappy, suffers worse? Who is that
Tristan who has borne sorrows more numerous than I?

Obruor oceano, sevisque reverberor undis,
nesciet hinc reditum mersa carina suum.
Decidit in cautes incauta carina, procellas
sustinet innumeras invidiosa ratis.
Me si tanta pati natura volebat amara,
ponere debuerat perfidiore loco:
aut gelida Sithia, nimio vel solis in ortu,
aut ubi soligeris concidit ardor equis,
aut ubi perfidior quadrangulus orbis habetur,
vel quo perpetuum torrida zona calet,
aut aliquo peiore loco qui gente vacaret,
quo minus obprobrii cognita fama foret.

I am overwhelmed by the ocean, and beaten back by savage waves,
my submerged keel will know no return from here.
The unwary keel has fallen upon the rocks, the jealous bark endures
innumerable storms. If nature willed that I should endure so bitter a fate,
she ought to have set me in a more treacherous place:
either in icy Scythia, or at the excessive rising of the sun,
or where sun‑scorched heat falls upon the steeds,
or where a more treacherous quarter of the globe is held,
or where the torrid zone burns perpetually,
or in some worse place vacant of any people,
so that my known fame would be less of a reproach.

Dulcius est miseris aliena vivere terra
quam propria, male qua singula probra patent.
Malo meum sciri longinquis dedecus Indis
quam quos vicinos efficit ipse locus.
Hic inter notos sotios, miser, inter amicos,
quod nugor querula fertilitate, premor.

It is sweeter for the wretched to live on foreign soil
than on their own, where each disgrace lies glaringly open.
I would rather my shame be known to far-off Indians
than to those whom the very place makes my neighbors.
Here among known companions, wretch that I am, among friends,
I am pressed, because I babble, querulous, with abundant trifles.

Omnibus invideo melioribus: invida semper
mens tantum rodi pro meliore solet.
Quot sub sole vigent, fateor me tot meliores:
sim licet Arturus, qualis habebor ero.
Omnibus invideo; nullus michi: mens dolet hinc quod
reciproca caret hinc transitione dolor.

I envy all who are better: an envious mind is always
only wont to be gnawn for something better.
As many as under the sun thrive, I confess that that many are better than me:
even if I were Arthur, whatever I would be considered to be.
I envy all; no one envies me: the mind grieves because
it lacks reciprocity, hence a pain from the absence of return.

Namcaret invidia miser, immo miserrimus ille
qui nimis omnimoda prosperitate caret.
Quid sim, quid fuerim, cuias, ubi, quid vocer, unde
natus, homo vel humus nescio, mentis inops.
Me domini, sotii noti, quod maius, amici,
‚ pro scelus!

For the wretch lacks envy, indeed that most wretched one
who is bereft excessively of all-various prosperity.
What I am, what I have been, whose I am, where, what I am called, whence
born, man or earth I do not know, poor of mind.
My masters, my familiar companions, what is greater, my friends,
‚ for a crime!

‚ in medio deseruere mari.
Dum Zephyrus flabat, multis comitabar amicis;
nunc omnes Aquilo, turbine flante, fugat.
Ut phylomena canens frondes sonitumque canorum,
et nemus et silvas, frigore tacta, fugit,
sic, hiemis casus horrendaque nubila vitans,
omnis in adversis rebus amicus abest;
delicias veris sequitur; sed tempora brume
deserit, alato remige, falsus amor.

‚ in the middle of the sea they deserted me.
While Zephyrus blew, I kept company with many friends;
now all Aquilo, turbine flante, drives them away.
As the phylomena, singing, the leaves and the sound of singers,
both grove and woods, touched by cold, flee,
thus, avoiding winter's falls and dreadful clouds,
every friend in adverse affairs is absent;
he follows the delights of spring; but the seasons of winter
false love deserts, with winged remige.

Vultur edax, corvusqueniger, presagaque cornix
ventris ad ingluviem semper adesse parant.
Leccatrix mel musca, lupusque cadavera: sic nunc
predam, non homines, gens parat ista sequi.
Vilis amicitie species, quam quelibet aura,
quam variis variat fluctibus orba dea.

The gluttonous vulture, and the black raven, and the presaging crow prepare always to be present at the gullet of the belly.
The honey‑licking fly, and the wolf of corpses: thus now that stock prepares to follow prey, not men.
Cheap the semblance of friendship, which any breeze, which the goddess deprived by varying waves, alters.

Si tales olim Eurialus Nisusque fuissent,
non durasset eis ille perhennis amor.
Verus amor miserum non dedignatur amicum:
vera fides tantum nescit amena sequi.
Participat flores et grandem grandinis iram
inconcussa fero turbine vera fides.

If once such were Eurialus and Nisus,
that everlasting love would not have endured for them.
True love does not disdain the miserable friend:
true fidelity only is ignorant of following the pleasant.
True fidelity, unshaken by a fierce whirlwind, partakes both of flowers and of the great wrath of hail.

Taliter unanimes loquitur seriptura sodales
quos strinxit vero vimine verus amor.
Prevalet hoc solo mala sors, quod monstrat amicos,
qui bene, qui male; sic monstrat utramque fidem.
Ut fornax aurum, navem mare, mucro catenas,
sic gravior corda casus amica probat.

Thus the unanimous writing speaks of comrades whom true love has bound with a real band:
only this evil fate prevails, that it reveals friends,
those who are good, those who are bad; thus it shows both kinds of faith.
As the furnace (tests) gold, the sea the ship, the sword the chains,
so a graver mischance tests friendly hearts.

Namcitius sotiis sotiabitur unica phenix,
atque lupi citius pace fruetur ovis;
et prius Arthurus veniet vetus ille Britannis,
quam ferat adversis falsus amicus opem.
Job, collata meis, angustia vincitur, inde
quod coniux fuit et trinus amicus ei;
ast ego desertus non illam cerno, nec illos:
me preter nichilum constat habere nichil.
Si Codrus foret hic, essem nunc codrior illo:
nam nichil hic habuit, ast ego plura nichil.

For sooner will the sole phoenix ally with comrades,
and sooner will the sheep enjoy peace with the wolf;
and sooner will that old Arthur come to the Britons,
than a false friend bring aid in adversity.
Job, compared with my trials, is vanquished by distress, since he had a wife and a threefold friend to him;
but I, deserted, behold neither her nor them:
apart from nothing I am known to possess nothing.
If Codrus were here, I would now be more Codrus than he:
for he had nothing here, but I have the greater nothing.

Tot mea sunt quod non sine mereginaiaceret:
si foret hoc verum: " Pauper ubique iacet. "
Temporibus cunctis ieiunus prosperitatis,
morte minante, minis asperiora gemo.
Ver dedit inditium, febrem mala contulit estas,
nutriit autumpnus, frigida pascit hiems;
nocte dieque malum me sciphis potat amaris,
ut vigeant in me gaudia nulla mei.

So many are my things that she would not lie without meregina:
if this were true: "A pauper lies everywhere."
In all times hungry for prosperity, with death threatening, I groan more harshly from threats.
Spring gave a token, evil brought fever in summer,
Autumn nourished, cold winter feeds;
night and day evil makes me drink bitter cups,
so that no joys of mine thrive within me.

Luce queror, lacrimas fundo, suspiria ructo,
scindo genas, plango pectora, rumpo comas.
Colloquium turbe tamen est solatia luce,
et minuit penas lectio crebra meas.
Nocturna longe minor est angustia lucis,
que mea multimodo corda dolore ligat.

By day I complain, I pour forth tears, I utter sighs,
I tear my cheeks, I beat my breasts, I rive my hair.
Conversation with the crowd, however, is a solace in the light,
and frequent reading diminishes my pains.
Nightly anguish is by far less than the anguish of light,
which in many ways binds my heart with grief.

Nocte furit Furiis nimium Furor impius in me,
qui mea maiori vulnere corda forat.
Nocte gemo, gemino gemitus cumulusque dolorum
crescit, corque coquit crebra gehenna meum.
Ve michi!

By night the Fury rages with the Furies; an impious Fury rages too greatly within me,
who pierces my heart with a greater wound.
At night I groan, a twin groan and a heap of sorrows
grows, and my heart is seethed by frequent Gehenna.
Woe to me!

Sermo meus mea fabula crebra dolenti,
dum tali mecum voce dolendo loquor.
Sevit et innumeris cor lanceat ira sagittis
penarumque fero turbine turba furit.
Volvor et evolvor; lectus, bene mollis, acutis
urticat spinis tristia membra meus.

My speech, my fable oft to my grieving self,
while with such a voice I, grieving, speak with myself.
And wrath rages and lances the heart with innumerable arrows,
and a throng raves with a fierce whirlwind of feathers.
I roll and unroll; the bed, well soft, with sharp
spines stings my sorrowful limbs.

Nunc nimis est altum, nimium nunc decidit, unquam
pulvinar medium nescit habere modum.
Nunc caput inclino, nunc elevo, parte sinistra
nunc ruo, nune dextra, nunc cado nuncque levor,
nunc hac, nunc illac, nunc sursum, nunc rotor infra,
et modo volvo caput qua michi parte pedes.
Non ita stare queo: surgo lectumque revolvo;
sic modo volvo pedes qua michi parte caput.

Now the pillow is too high, now again it sinks too far; it never knows to hold a middle measure.
Now I bend my head, now I lift it; with the left side now I rush down, now the right, now I fall and now I am raised,
now this way, now that way, now upward, now I am turned beneath,
and at one time I roll my head toward whatever side my feet are.
I cannot stand thus: I rise and overturn the bed;
so now I roll my feet toward whatever side my head is.

Nec sic esse queo: proprio maledico clienti
quod male cum lecto me facit esse meo.
Vocibus iratis insontem clamo ministrum:
"Huc, miser Ugo, miser, huc, maledicte, veni.
Quid facis, Ugo?

Nor can I be so: with my own voice I curse my client
because he, by ill handling of the bed, makes me to be ill.
With angry cries I call the innocent minister:
"Here, wretched Ugo, wretched one, here, accursed one, come.
What are you doing, Ugo?"

Iaces? Lectus meus iste quid est hoc
quod male cotidie sternitur? Unde locus?"
Tunc ipsum colaphis et pugnis verbero duris
et sibi quod patior verbere vendo malum
Volvit et evolvit plumamque reverberat ulnis
et modo que tulerat vindicat acta puer.

"Are you lying there? What is this bed of mine,
what is this that is ill-made every day? Whence this place?"
Then I buffet him with slaps and fists, with harsh blows,
and for the hurt I suffer from his blows I repay him the harm;
he rolls and unrolls it, and with his arms beats out the stuffing,
and now the boy reclaims what he had carried off.

Tunc iterum iaceo. Dormire puto. Nichil est quod
uno momento firmiter esse queam.

Then again I lie down. I think I sleep. Nothing is that whereby I can be steady for one moment.

Sic solet arboreas Boreas evolvere frondes,
sic rota mortales, sic aqua seva rotam.
Nunc calor ignitus, nunc frigus membra gelatum,
nunc, hostilis ei, sudor aquosus habet.
Tunc gemo, tunc oculi lacrimas, sua pocula, potant,
immo vomunt gemino fonte rigante genas.

Thus Boreas is wont to unfurl the tree's leaves,
thus the wheel [turns] mortals, thus the savage water the wheel.
Now burning heat, now cold freezes the limbs,
now, a watery sweat, hostile to him, takes hold.
Then I groan, then my eyes drink their cups of tears,
nay, they pour forth, from a twin spring showering my cheeks.

Si sopor irrepsit, quod rarum, sompnia ludunt
multimodis animos motibus egra meos.
Mergor in Oceano, tenuem taxillor in assum,
armatos video currere sepe deos.
Flumina parva fluunt, aret mare, corruit Athlas,
et geminas fortes concutit orbis aves.

If sleep has crept in, which is rare, dreams sport
my sick spirits with manifold motions.
I am plunged into the Ocean, lifted on a thin skiff into the air,
I often see armed gods running.
Small rivers flow, the sea dries up, Atlas collapses,
and the strong birds shake the twin spheres.

Sum velut implumis quam rodit in ilice cadmus,
que diro matrem carmine clamat avis.
Sum velut esuriens qui sompniat aurea tecta
usibus et vestes pauper habere suis.
Sum velut expectans properantem rusticus amnem,
qui cupit excursis pergere siccus aquis.

I am like a bird plucked of feathers which the cadmus gnaws upon the holm-oak,
and which, with a dire song, cries aloud for its mother.
I am like one hungry who dreams of golden roofs
and of garments as provisions, a poor man to possess them.
I am like a rustic awaiting the hurrying river,
who longs to pass onward over the waters dry.

Sum velut elusus quem detinet alea lusor,
qui cum perdiderit perdere plura parat.
Sum velut insanus qui, cum plus leditur, hic plus
fustibus et iactu liberiore furit.
Ha nimis infelix qui sustinet innumeranda,
qui patitur numeris omnia plura suis.

I am like one deceived whom the dice‑player detains,
who, when he has lost, prepares to lose yet more.
I am like a madman who, when he is beaten more, here rages the more
with cudgels and with a freer fling.
Ah, too unlucky he who endures innumerable things,
who suffers all things multiplied in his accounts.

Tot mala, tot penas patior, quod, si quis arenam
conferat in numero, cedet arena meis.
Pagina sit celum, sint frondes scriba, sit unda
incaustrum, mala non nostra referre queant.
Tam gravibus ledor quod non peiora timesco:
qui summe miser est, plus nequit esse miser.

I endure so many evils, so many pains, that if any one should set sand in number,
the sand would yield to mine.
Let the page be heaven, let the leaves be a scribe, let the wave be an inkwell,
that evils not our own may be able to be recorded.
I am harmed by so heavy things that I do not fear worse:
he who is most miserable cannot be more miserable.

Sit maledicta dies, in qua concepit et in qua
me mater peperit, sit maledicta dies.
Sit maledicta dies qua suxi pectus et in qua
in cunis vagii, sit maledicta dies.
Sit maledicta dies vite: de ventre sepulcro
me transmutasset, o Deus, illa dies!

May accursed be the day on which she conceived and on which
my mother bore me, may the day be accursed.
May accursed be the day on which I sucked the breast and on which
in the cradle I wailed, may the day be accursed.
May accursed be the day of life: would that that day, O God, had transformed me
from the womb into a sepulchral tomb!

Cum dabat ubera mater, ne malatantaviderem,
debuerat iugulis presecuisse caput;
mortua nam melius ascondere membra sepulcro
quam vivendo pati deteriora nece.
Omnia coniurant in me: Pater alme, misertus
succurras misero, spes mea, summe Pater.

When my mother gave me her breasts, I ought to have been cut off at the throat;
for it would have been better, dead, to hide these limbs in a tomb
than, living, to suffer things worse than death.
All things conspire against me: kind Father, pitying, come to succor the wretched one, my hope, highest Father.

Liber II

BOOK 2.

Plange, miser, palmis, Henrice miserrime, plange,
et caput et dura pectora plange, miser.
Me sibi privignum Rannusia, dira noverca,
ardet in horrendis perpetuaremalis.
Est Fortuna michi serpente neronior omni;
nam serpens fugit, at sepius illa fugat.

Beat, wretch, with your palms, most miserable Henry, beat,
and beat both your head and your hard breast, wretch.
Rannusia, a dread stepmother, burns to make me her stepson,
she longs to fix me in horrendous evils.
Fortune for me is blacker than any serpent;
for the serpent flees, but she more often puts to flight.

Quando michi tribuet sors prospera prosperitatem?
Non hodie, nec cras, quod puto, forsan heri.
Cum me blandifero respexerit alea vultu,
Arne, retro properans fonte recurre tuo.

When will prosperous Fortune grant prosperity to me?
Not today, nor tomorrow, I think, perhaps yesterday.
When Chance with a flattering face shall have looked back upon me,
Arne, hastening back, return to your fountain.

Quam male fructificat que numquam floruit arbor!
Spes quoque messis abit cum male germen obit.
O pudor, o timor, o dolor, o mala tedia vite,
o comes assiduus plusque furore furor!

How poorly bears fruit the tree that never flowered!
Hope also of the harvest departs when the ill seed dies.
O shame, O fear, O pain, O evil toils of life,
O constant companion and a fury beyond fury!

Quid faciam? Vos hoc mea dicite turba dolorum;
nam vos auxilium consiliumque meum.
O Deus, o quare subito Fortuna rotatu
cuncta molendinat mobiliore rota?

What shall I do? You, say this, my throng of sorrows;
for you are my aid and my counsel.
O God, O why, with a sudden turning, does Fortune grind all things on a more movable wheel?

Sors mala, sors peior, sors pessima, sorsque maligna
facturam turpi protheat arte tuam.
Hanc, Pater, hanc animam, misero quam carcere trudis,
hanc lacrimis plenam suscipe, redde polo.
Alme parens, animam, quam pene turba flagellat,
suscipe quam stigiis tritat Erinis aquis,
quam ferit Alecto, quam Thesiphoneque fatigat,
cui Fortuna nocet quave Megera furit.

Bad fate, worse fate, worst fate, and malignant fate
to bring forth your deed by foul art.
This, Father, this soul, which you thrust into a wretched prison,
this, full of tears, receive, restore to the heavens.
Nourishing parent, the soul which the crowd almost scourges,
receive which the Erinyes grind with Stygian waters,
which Alecto smites, and which Thesiphone wears out,
whom Fortune injures or in whom Megera rages.

Ergo pium pietas te reddat, ut impia cesset
Alecto, miserum que lacerare sitit.
Tu quoque, vesani promptissima causa doloris,
asculta et celerem, perfida, siste rotam.
Verberibus preceps diris, fortuna, quid est hoc
quod caput affligis, insidiosa, meum?

Therefore may piety render you pious, that impious Alecto may cease
and thirst to lacerate the wretched.
You also, most ready cause of mad pain,
hear and stay the swift wheel, treacherous one.
By dire lashes headlong, Fortune, what is this
that you, insidious, afflict my head?

Quo rapis, o fera, me? Cresum facis, impia, Codrum,
Nestora Tersitem, turpius ausa nefas.
Numquid ego Scarioth? Numquid sum Pontius, unde
tam graviter meruitantaflagella pati?

Whither do you drag me, O beast? You make me Croesus, impious one, Codrus, a Nestor, a Tersites, having dared a crime more shameful.
Am I then a Scariot? Am I Pontius, from whom so grievously they deserved to suffer scourges?

Stulta, quid insanis? Caput hoc, caput hoc quid acerbas?
Pone modum sceleri, perfida, pone modum.

Foolish one, why are you raging? This head, this head — why do you afflict?
Set a limit to your wickedness, perfidious one, set a limit.

Deficiunt alii, me solum sola fatigas?
Sed videas quid agas, ultio rara perit.
Prospice ne tua te penarum turba sagittet:
nam ferit actorem sepe sagitta suum.

Others fail — am I alone whom you alone wear out?
But see what you do; rare vengeance perishes.
Beware lest the throng of your Penates shoot you with arrows:
for often an arrow strikes its own actor.

Heu, quid agis, quid agis? Quid me, quid, perfida, perdis?
Pone modum sceleri, perfida, pone modum.

Alas, what do you do, what do you do? What are you destroying me for, what, perfidious one?
Put a limit to your wickedness, perfidious one, put a limit.

Dic mihi, quid feci? Responde, lingua dolosa,
responde per eum qui super astra sedet.
Si nobis, vesana, tui si copia detur,
dilacerata feris turpiter esca fores.

Tell me, what have I done? Answer, deceitful tongue,
answer by him who sits above the stars.
If to us, madwoman, if an abundance of you were given,
torn to pieces you would be, shameful food for wild beasts.

Quis furor? Unde furis? Quid me, furiosa, lacessis?

What madness? Whence are you mad? Why do you, furious one, provoke me?

Pone modum sceleri, perfida, pone modum."

Put a limit to crime, perfidious one, put a limit.

Talibus orba suas dictis dea prebuit aures;
hec ait et celerem circinat ipsa rotam:
"Quid mea mordaci laceras vaga facta Camena;
quem fore plus misero plusque dolente dedi?
Nonne meo mundi clauduntur regna pugillo?
Nonne meum regnum climata cuncta tremunt?

With such words the bereaved goddess lent her ears;
she spoke thus and herself set the swift wheel turning:
"Why, my Camena, made vagabond, do you rend me with your biting [song];
whom have I given to be more miserable and more grieving?
Are not the kingdoms of the world closed in my little fist?
Are not all the climes of my realm trembling?

Grecus et Ebreus, et Barbarus atque Latinus
me timet, exhorret, me veneratur, amat.
Nonne potestates mundi mundique minora
imperio cogo subdere cuncta meo?
Nuper Alamannus, Siculam delatus in oram,
ludendo feriÁam perdidit ipse suam.

Greek and Hebrew, and Barbarian and Latin
fear me, shudder at me, venerate me, love me.
Do I not force the powers of the world and the lesser things of the world
to submit all things to my command?
Recently an Alemannian, carried onto the Sicilian shore,
by playing lost his own holiday.

Perdidit hic equites, rochos peditesque minores,
perdidit alphinos: vix bene tutus abit.
Meque Saladinus, nimium vexilla salutis
expugnans, hostem sentiet esse suam.
Quid referam veteres quorum fert fama ruinam?

He has destroyed here the horsemen, the rock‑folk and the lesser footsoldiers,
he has destroyed the Alpines: scarcely does he depart well and safe.
And Saladin, too, assailing the banners of salvation with excessive zeal,
will reckon me to be his enemy.
What shall I relate of the ancients, whose fame bears ruin?

Mater Pompeio, deinde noverca fui.
Ubera sic Dario, post verbera, mellea Cyro,
fellea post, nutrix ingeniosa, dedi.
Tu quem fama silet, quem noscit dedecus, iram
obprobriis laceras, obprobriose, meam.

I was mother to Pompeius, then his stepmother.
Thus I gave the breasts to Darius, after the scourging; to Cyrus I gave them honeyed, afterwards bitter, a resourceful nurse I gave.
You, of whom fame is silent, whom disgrace recognizes, you rend my anger with reproaches, reproachfully, my anger.

Quidve minas agitas?Reuses pro crimine lese
Maiestatis, et hoc tota propago luet.
Prospice quid facias, nondum perit omne venenum,
et mea vis nondum desinit esse mea."

What threats are you wielding? You are an accused for the crime of lese-majesty, and this whole race will pay for it.
Consider what you do; not all poison has yet perished,
and my force has not yet ceased to be mine.

"Que peiora potes, meretrix fortuna, noverca
pessima, Medea dirior, Ydra ferox?
Deveni ad nichilum: restans michi spiritus ossa
non habet, in quo nil hec tua probra valent.
Morte nocere putas?

"What worse can you do, prostitute Fortune, worst stepmother, more dreadful than Medea, fierce Hydra?
I have come to nothing: the spirit remaining in me has no bones,
in which these your reproaches have any power.
Do you think to harm me by death?

Foret hec michi vita salubris:
duplicior mors est morte carere mihi.
Quam letus, quacumque Deus donaverit hora,
suscipiam! Post hanc stercus in ore tuo.

Would this life be salutary to me:
a death more dreadful is, for me, than to be deprived of death.
Which death, gladly, in whatever hour God may grant, I will receive!
After that, dung in your mouth.

Quid totiens varias sumis, furiosa, figuras?
Nunc alacris rides, nunc lacrimosa gemis,
Floridanunc, nunc sordida; nunc nigra, nunc rubicunda;
Aurea nunc, nunc es sordida facta luto.
Protheus esne?

Why do you so often assume varied figures, furious one?
Nunc alacris you laugh, nunc lacrimosa you groan,
Floridanunc, nunc sordida; nunc nigra, nunc rubicunda;
Now golden, now you are made sordid with mud.
Are you Protheus?

Vagusne movet tua viscera ventus,
vel tua diabolus viscera crebra movet?
Semper es inconstans, vaga mobilis, aspera, ceca,
instabilis, levior, perfida, surda, fera."

Does some wandering wind stir your entrails,
or does your devil often move your entrails?
You are always inconstant, vagabond, changeable, harsh, blind,
unstable, lighter, perfidious, deaf, savage."

Tunc et subridens: "O quanto pulvere noctis
humane mentis lumina ceca latent!
Nunquid obaudisti: "Sermones ponderet unus
quisque suos: sapiens cogitat ante loqui?"
Legibus indictis utor; si legibus, ergo
iustis; si iustis, iure fit, ergo bene.
Nonne sua licite sic quilibet utitur arte?

Then, smiling also: "O how many lights of the human mind lie blind by the dust of night!
Have you not heard: "Let each one weigh his own speeches: the wise man thinks before he speaks?"
I make use of laws declared; if by laws, therefore just; if just, it is by right, therefore well.
Is it not that everyone lawfully thus uses his own art?

Quod sibi sors dederit utitur omnis homo:
miles equis, piscator aquis et clericus hymnis,
nauta fretis, pugiles Marte, poeta metris.
Rusticus asper arat, numerat mercator avarus,
virgo legitflores, stultus amator amat.
Ast ego, que dea sum, qua nulla potentior orbe,
quem ligat Occeani circulus orbe suo,
nonne meam licite, stultissime, prosequar artem?

Every man uses what lot Fate has given him:
the soldier to horses, the fisherman to waters and the cleric to hymns,
the sailor to the seas, the fighters to Mars, the poet to metres.
The rustic ploughs harshly, the avaricious merchant counts,
the maiden gathers flowers, the foolish lover loves.
But I, who am a goddess, by whom none is more powerful in the orb,
whom the circle of the Ocean binds with its round,
shall I not lawfully, most foolish one, pursue my art?

Sic opus est ut te precipitando rotem.
Ergo vide quid agas. Sapiens deliberat ante
quam faciat; sic tu premeditare, miser.

Thus it is necessary that I hurl you headlong by precipitating you.
Therefore see what you do. The wise man deliberates before he acts; so you, miserable one, premeditate.

Ha, genus humanum mea quantis asperat acta
morsibus, atque meum dentibus occat opus!
Si sibi divitias digitis porrexero laxis,
laudibus extollor imperialis ego:
tunc ego summa parens et tuncreginaverenda,
tunc dea summa, deo preferor ipsa Iovi.
Sed si forte meam retinentem clausero dextram,
morsibus et stimulis mordeor ipsa feris:
tunc ego periura, tunc turpis adultera dicor,
tuncque sacerdotem me vitiasse ferunt.

Ah, how the human race with what harsh deeds they roughen me
with bites, and my work is shattered by my teeth!
If I shall have offered riches with my loosened fingers to him,
I am exalted by praises as imperial:
then I, highest parent and then to be revered as queen,
then the highest goddess, I myself am preferred even to the god Jove.
But if perhaps I shall have shut my right hand, keeping back my gift,
I myself am bitten by beasts with bites and goads:
then I am called perjured, then I am named a shameful adulteress,
and they say that I have corrupted the priest.

Tu modo; sed quare me dentibus asper acutis,
infelix, laceras colloquiisque tuis?
Arbitrio loqueris: nam iuris pondus abhorres
et dedignaris de ratione loqui.
Se docet iniustam causam partemque tueri
qui solis probris certat iniqua loqui;
sic solet ignavus, cum desunt verba, sophysta
garrulus, ut videant, voce tonare, sui.

You only; but why, wretched one, with harsh sharp teeth,
do you tear me and your speeches to pieces?
You speak at whim: for you recoil from the weight of right
and disdain to speak from reason.
He who teaches himself to defend an unjust cause and party
is he who contends to speak unjust things by sole reproaches;
thus the lazy sophist is wont, when words are lacking,
to be garrulous, to thunder with his voice, that he may be seen.

Sic quoque, cum desunt tibi iura, recurris ad ipsam,
quam bene novisti, garrulitatis opem.
Ergo si qua tuis, quod non puto, mentibus herent
iusta, refer; vel tu, quod magis oro, sile."

Thus likewise, when legal rights fail you, you run back to that very aid of garrulity,
which you knew well. Therefore, if any just things stick to your minds, which I do not think,
bring them forward; or you, which I more earnestly beg, be silent.

Tunc ego: "Vesanum, meretrix Rannusia, monstrum,
num licet hoc solum verba referre michi?
Tu facis et dicis: laceras me, perfida, factis,
improperas post hec facta nefanda michi.
Nunc scio de facto quod semper culpa redundat
in miserum, qui non unde tuetur habet;
lis quotiens oritur aquilas atque inter olores,
culpa solet minimis semper iniqua dari;
sic quotiens certant Acteon rexque ferarum,
pessima qui minor est iura fovere ferunt.

Then I: "Madwoman, Rannusia the prostitute, monster,
is it permitted that I alone may report these words to myself?
You do and you say: you tear me, treacherous one, by your deeds,
you reproach me after these nefarious deeds.
Now I know from the deed that blame always recoils
on the wretched man who has not whence to defend himself;
as often as a quarrel arises among the eagles and among the swans,
blame is wont always to be given unfairly to the smallest;
thus as often as Actaeon and the king of the beasts contend,
they say that the lesser supports the worst claims.

Et quotiens rabies sevit Germanica Tuscis,
oppida testantur lenia, fracta, fidem.
Tu quoque me. Sed si vim vi depellere possem,
vel taceas, tua vel parcior ira foret.
Cautius ergo tuas satyras, inimica deorum,
insere, vel tibi que sunt recitanda vide:
nam male castigat sotios quem crimen eadem
labepremit pariter quam removere studet.

And how often Germanic rage rages upon the Tuscans,
the towns bear witness to gentleness, faith broken.
You too accuse me. But if I could drive force away with force,
either be silent, and your anger would be the more sparing.
Therefore insert your satires more cautiously, hostile to the gods,
or consider what ought to be recited to you:
for ill does it chastise companions when the same crime
presses them as much as it strives to remove it.

Sic Paris Egidem, sie Lucius ille Cethegum,
sic quoque retrogradum mater aquosa suum."
Non igitur studeas alios dampnare quod in te est,
ne cadat in barbam pena pudenda tuam.
Namfatuum nimis est aliquem dampnare seipsum,
quod tibi ne facias, litigiosa, cave.
Tuleviset leva, tu preceps, tu furiosa,
tu ratione carens nescis habere modum.

Thus Paris to Aegis, "yes, that Lucius Cethegus,"
thus likewise his watery mother turned back her own.
Therefore do not be eager to condemn others for what is in you,
lest the shameful punishment fall upon your own beard.
For it is far too foolish to condemn someone who is yourself;
beware, contentious one, that you do not do this to yourself.
Light-minded, headlong, furious you are;
lacking reason, you do not know how to keep measure.

Me feris inque furis, laceras me meve lacessis,
et latus et latum destruis omne meum."

"You strike me and, like a thief, you lacerate me and even provoke me,
and you destroy both my side and my whole estate."

Tunc ea: "Non unum mecum lucrabere nummum,
qui dominam queris dedecorare tuam.
Namque suo servus domino luctando repugnans
calcitrat in stimulum perfidus ipse suum.
Discant mortales dominos proprios venerari:
nam qui fraude nocet, fraudibus ille perit.

Then she: "You will not gain even one coin with me,
you who seek to dishonor your mistress.
For a slave, resisting his master by struggling,
kicks against his own goad, treacherous of himself.
Let mortals learn to venerate their own masters:
for he who injures by fraud, by fraud he perishes.

Numquid Alexander, numquid tu Cesar es? Unde
tantasuperbia, vel tantus, inique, furor?
Tu quis es? Unde furis? Te scimus et unde fuisti,
que sit origo tui quique fuere patres.

Are you perhaps Alexander, are you perhaps Caesar? Whence such great pride, or such unjust fury?
Who are you? Whence do you rage? We know you and whence you have been,
what is your origin and who were your fathers.

Te decet horrendis versare ligonibus arva,
quod genus agresti postulat arte tuum,
Et quis es? Unde venis? Cro, cro! Vesane, recede
et geme perpetuum perpetuumque late.

It befits you to turn the fields with dreadful hoes,
a sort which your rustic art demands,
And who are you? Whence do you come? Cro, cro! Madman, begone
and groan perpetual, perpetual and far and wide.

Quicquid agas, quicquid dicas, quicquid patiaris,
non facis ut retrahas quod mea dextra trahit.
Sic ego primatum venerandaque sceptra tenebo,
et pro velle meo mel tibi felque dabo.
Tu formica brevis, mus parvus, nanus inanis;
quid michi, quid facies, nane pudende?

Whatever you do, whatever you say, whatever you endure, you do not manage to withdraw what my right hand draws.
Thus I will hold primacy and the venerable scepters,
and in accordance with my will I will give you honey and gall.
You short ant, small mouse, vain dwarf;
what am I to you, what will you do, shameful little one?

Nichil.
Nil tua probra, minas, generalis yconoma rerum
curo, sed in cathedra glorior ipsa mea.
Non minus unguipotens volucres leo papiliones,
nec Polis angustumTiburavara minus,
nec minus archivolans tremulas generosa cicadas
quam tua, vaniloquax, verba minasque tremam.

Nothing.
I care not for your reproaches, threats, the general economy of things,
but I boast in my very chair.
No less claw-mighty are winged lion-butterflies,
nor is Polis less narrow, nor Tibur-avar less so,
nor less arch-wheeling the tremulous, noble cicadas
than your, babbling, words and threats that I should tremble.

Quid tua sanna potest? Si quis derisor, et ipse
derisus turbis omnibus esse solet.
Nictimene sonitu deridet nocte volucres;
numquid eam lacerat cetera turba die?

What can your scurrility avail? If anyone is a mocker, he himself
is wont to be laughed at by all the crowds.
Do the birds deride her with nocturnal sound?
Does any other throng tear her by day?

Sie qui derident alios ridentur et ipsi:
nil magis in populis est generale nota.
Ergo quiesce, miser: miser, ergo quiesce, quiesce!
Namleve verba potes ferre, sed acta gravant."

Those who deride others are derided themselves:
there is nothing more a general note among the peoples.
Therefore be quiet, wretch: wretch, therefore be quiet, be quiet!
For you can bear words, but deeds burden.

Tunc ego: "Deliris stomachor, Rannusia, dictis,
dum michi probra tuis obicis, orba, metris.
Dum mea veriloquis recitas convitia verbis,
nil gravius vero sevior ira tenet.
Non opus est verbis, gladio qui percutit hostem:
nam satis ad vulnus sufficit ensis atrox.

Then I: "I am enraged at your ravings, Rannusia, by your words,
while you fling reproaches at me in your meters, bereft one.
While you recite insults with your glib words,
no truer, no more severe anger holds me.
He who smites an enemy with the sword needs no words:
for a savage sword suffices to wound.

Improperasne michi genus? Usuraria, monstrum,
fronte capillata sed retro rasa caput.
Simia non es, turpior es, turpissima rerum
res es, nescio quid, quam nichil esse velim.

Do you reproach my birth? A usureress, a monster,
hairy at the brow but shaved at the back of the head.
You are not a monkey, you are fouler, most foul of things;
you are a thing, I know not what, which I would wish to be nothing.

Sim licet agresti tenuique propagine natus,
non vacat omnimoda nobilitate genus:
non presigne genus, nec clarum nomen avorum,
sed probitas vera nobilitate viget.
In tenui calamo latitat mel sepe suave,
et modici fontis temperat unda sitim.
Nil tremis.

Although I am born of rustic and slender stock,
there is no room for rank of every sort in my line:
not a distinguished lineage, nor a famed name of ancestors,
but uprightness thrives by true nobility.
In a thin reed sweet honey often lies concealed,
and the wave of a modest spring tempers thirst.
You fear nothing.

Unde locus? Bucifal sepissime muscis
et formicarum sepe fit esca lupus.
Nil adeo validum, quod non quandoque teratur
hoc et ab invalido, sepe videre potes:
vomer humo, lapis unda, pollice gemma, quid ultra?

Whence the place? Bucifal very often becomes bait to flies
and the wolf often becomes food for ants.
Nothing so strong that it is not sometimes worn away
by this even by the weak; you can often see:
the ploughshare by the earth, a stone by the wave, a gem by the thumb—what more?

Sepe quod est solidum frangere molle solet.
Non semper Marium, nec semper sepe rotatum
volvis Apollonium: fortior alter erit,
qui redimens mea probra fero pugnabit agone
et tibi forsan atrox auferet ille caput."

Often the soft is wont to break what is solid.
Not always Marius, nor always do you turn round Apollonius oftentimes: another will be stronger,
who, redeeming the insults I bear, will fight in the contest
and perhaps that fierce one will take your head."

Tunc ea: "Pacificis loquar ex ratione loquelis,
si placet et mecum pacificare velis.
Despicerer nimium si starem semper eodem,
vel bona, vel mala, vel inter utrumque manens.
Omne quod est crebrum nimio vilescit in usu;
omne quod est rarum carius esse solet.

Then she: "I will speak peaceably according to the reason of speech,
if it pleases and you wish to make peace with me.
I would be too much despised if I always stood the same,
whether good, or evil, or dwelling between the two.
Everything that is frequent by excess grows cheap in use;
everything that is rare is accustomed to be dearer.

Pulegio piper est generosum vilius Indis,
vilior herbicolor cautibus iaspis ibi.
Carior est grisea gelidis clamis aspera Gotis
qua fera carnificis dextera nudat ovem.
Bononie claro plus milite carus habetur
durus et horrendus, Marte furente, pedes.

Pulegian pepper is of noble kind, cheaper than that of the Indies,
cheaper there is herb-colored jasper on the rocks.
Dearer is the gray cloak to the cold Goths,
by which the fierce right hand of the executioner strips the sheep.
In Bologna he is reckoned dearer than a famed soldier—
hard and dreadful, the foot-soldier when Mars rages.

Non adeo potes ipse queri: tibi sepe benigna,
et quamvis nunquam prodiga, larga fui.
Nunc ego, nunc tibi proposui clementior esse,
si libet, et mecum pacificare velis."

You cannot so much complain yourself: to you I was often benign,
and although never prodigal, generous I was.
Now I, now to you, have proposed to be more merciful,
if it pleases, and that you would be willing to make peace with me."

"Absit, iniqua canis, me tecum pacificare,
sed tibi pacificet, seva, brunellus iners;
nam tibi nulla fides, nullus modus, ordine nullo
vivis, et est socius pro ratione furor."

"Far be it, unjust dog, that I should make peace with you,
but may a lazy little brown one make peace for you, savage one;
for to you there is no faith, no measure, in any order
you live, and frenzy is companion in place of reason."

Tunc ea: "Iudicio non tecum stare recuso,
ut videat lex hoc iustiniana scelus.
Si bene dicis, habes quod abest, ius et rationem;
si male, preceptis ergo quiesce meis."

Then she: "I do not refuse to stand with you in judgment,
that the Justinian law may see this crime.
If you speak well, you have what is lacking, law and reason;
if ill, then, under my precepts be quiet."

"Ni melius quam iura scias, ignara, rotatus,
staret quem giras orbis in orbe tuo
Sistere iudicio furiosi lege vetantur;
ergo tibi ius, cum sis furiosa, vetat."

"Unless you, ignorant and turned, know the laws better than this,
he whom you whirl in your circle would be prevented from standing in judgment;
to set before judgment they are forbidden by the law of the mad;
therefore the law denies you justice, since you are furiosa (mad)."

Tunc ea: "Vade ferox; hostis meus esse memento."
"Tu quoque vade; hostis esse memento mea."

Then she: "Go, fierce one; remember to be my enemy."
"You also go; remember to be my enemy, my own."

Liber III

Book 3

Cum mea lamentans eleica facta referrem,
et eum Fortune verba inimica darem,
ecce nitens proba, que salomonior est Salomone,
ante meum mulier lumen amena stetit,
quam facies helenat, variat quam forma vicissim:
nunc celum, nunc plus, nunc capit illa solum.
Hanc Fronesin dictam septena cohors comitatur;
prebuit officium cuilibet illa suum.
Prima fovet pueros, alia silogizat, amenat
tertia colloquiis, perticat illa solum,
hec abacum monstrat, alia philomenat, et altum
erigit ad superos septima virgo caput.
His predicta dea sedit comitata deabus,
et quasi compatiens mis patientis ait:

While I, lamenting, related my elegiac deeds,
and spoke words hostile to Fortune concerning him,
behold a shining, modest woman, more Solomon-like than Solomon,
pleasant, stood before my light, whose face out-Helened Helen, whose form in turn is various:
now the heavens, now something more, now she takes only the ground.
A sevenfold cohort attends this one called Fronesis;
she rendered to each her own office.
The first cherishes boys, another adduces syllogisms, another soothes;
the third converses, she alone rebukes,
this shows the abacus, another loves songs, and the seventh maiden
lifts her lofty head toward the gods.
To these the said goddess sat, accompanied by goddesses,
and, as if pitying the suffering wretch, spoke:

"Que lethea tuus potavit pocula sensus?
Quo tua dormitat mens peregrina loco?
Certe cecus es et tua mens exorbitat: illud
tantillum nescis, quod scola docta dedit.

"Who has made your sense drink the cups of Lethe?
In what place does your wandering mind slumber?
Surely you are blind and your mind strays: that very little
you do not know which the learned school has given.

Heu quantum pateris! De sola mente dolesco,
quod tuus hoc peregre tempore sensus abit.
Si foret hic Ypocras et tota medela Salerni,
morbida non vel vix mens tuasanaforet:
nam nequit antiquum medicina repellere morbum,
quodque diu crevit durat in esse diu.

Alas, how much you endure! I grieve over your lone mind,
that your sense has gone away in this foreign season.
If Hippocrates were here and all the Salernian remedy,
your sick mind would not be healed, or would hardly be healed:
for medicine cannot drive off an ancient disease, and that which long has grown endures in being long.

Heu, doleo super hoc, quod mentem perdis et omni
brutescis sensu, bestia factus homo.
Quid tibi cum lacrimis? Lacrimarum copia nullum
participem voti debilis esse facit.

Alas, I grieve over this, that you lose your mind and grow brute in every sense, a man made a beast.
What are tears to you? A wealth of tears makes the weak no sharer of the vow.

Qui gemit ingeminat sua dampna, dolore dolorem
ampliat et duplici funere vivus obit.
Quid tibi et iniuste Fortune? Multaque semper
passus es obprobriis vincula propter eam.

He who groans and reiterates his dampna, by pain enlarges his dolor
and, alive, dies with a double funus.
What to you, unjust Fortune? And you have always
suffered many vincula on account of reproaches because of her.

Visipsam non esse vagam? natura repugnat,
que dedit instabilem semper et esse vagam.
Seminat in spinis nature iura retractans,
garrula divelli rana palude nequit.

Do you wish her herself not to be wandering? Nature resists,
which gave her to be always unstable and to be wandering.
Nature, retracting her laws, sows amid thorns,
the garrulous frog cannot be torn away from the marsh.

Qui cupit auferre naturam seminat herbam,
cuius in Arturi tempore fructus erit.
Te nimis aura rotat nimiumque moveris amaris,
et nimium stolidum te facit esse dolor.
Non hominem redolens hominis denigrat honorem,
qui nequit adversis prospera iuncta pati.

He who desires to alter nature sows a herb,
the fruit of which will be in Arthur's time.
The breeze too much turns you, and you are moved too much, O bitter one,
and sorrow makes you too foolish.
Not smelling of a man, he disparages the honour of man,
who cannot endure prosperities joined with adversities.

Utitur ignare dulci, non usus amaro:
namque per oppositum noscitur omne bonum.
Disce gravanda pati: patientia temperat iram
et duros animos mentis oliva domat.
Nonne recordaris, veluti, stimulante tyrampno,
moriger innocua Seneca morte perit?

He enjoys the sweet in ignorance, not having tasted the bitter:
for every good is known through its opposite.
Learn to endure what must be borne: patience tempers anger
and the olive tames the harsh spirits of the mind.
Do you not recall, as it were, with the tyrampno urging, Seneca harmless in manner, perishing by death?

Nonne meus Severinus inani iure peremptus
carcere Papie non patienda tulit?
Nonne cupidineus metrosus Naso magister
expulsus patria pauper et exul obit?
Quid referam multos, quorum sine crimine vita
verbera Fortune non patienda tulit?

Did not my Severinus, slain by a groundless law, endure intolerable things in the prison of Pavia?
Was not Naso, a metrical master greedy with desire, expelled, and died poor and an exile from his country?
What shall I recount of the many, whose lives, without crime, bore the lashes of Fortune—things not to be endured?

Silva capillorum numeratis cederet illis,
quos necis immunes inclita vita dedit.
Aspera ferre decet: maturant aspera mentem
et bene matura plenius uva sapit.
Per nimios estus gelidas transitur ad umbras,
sicque per oppositum dulcia querit homo.

Let the forest of hairs yield to those numbered,
whom a famed life gave immune from death.
It is proper to bear the rough: harsh things mature the mind
and a well-ripe grape tastes more fully.
Through excessive heats one is passed into cold shades,
and so, by the opposite, man seeks sweet things.

Laurea pro pena, pro morte corona resultat:
unde laborat homo, premiat inde labor.
Quid facis, inmunde, mundique inmunda quid optas?
Inmundus mundus que tibi munda dabit?

A laurel for penalty, a crown instead of death rebounds:
whence a man labours, thence labour will reward.
What do you do, unclean one, and what, unclean in the clean, do you desire?
Will the unclean world and the clean give you clean things?

Vivere, stulte, putasne per omnia secula? Per fe'!
Factus es insanus credulitate tua.
Insani sane capitis gravitate laborat
qui putat hoc mundo vivere posse diu.

Do you, fool, think to live through all the ages? By faith!
You have become mad from your credulity.
Truly he who thinks he can live long in this world
labors under the weight of an insane head.

Sensus abit tuus et tuus intellectus oberrat,
et tua letheis mens peregrinat aquis.
Dic, ubi sunt que te docuit Bononia quondam?
Hec, ego, dic, ubi sunt que tibi sepe dedi?

Your sense is gone and your intellect wanders astray,
and your mind peregrinates among Lethean waters.
Say, where are those things which Bononia once taught you?
These — I say, where are those which I often gave you?

Te multum fovi, docui te, sepe rogavi,
et mea secreta sepe videre dedi.
Tu mea vitis eras, tu palmitis umbra novelli,
tu fructus validam spem michi sepe dabas.
Te rastris colui, te sepis vimine cinxi,
et lapides ex te et cuncta nocenda tuli.

I cherished you greatly, I taught you, I often entreated you,
and often gave you to behold my secrets.
You were my vine, you were the shade of the young shoot,
you often gave me fruits of strong hope.
I tended you with rakes, I fenced you with a wicker hedge,
and from you I removed stones and all things hurtful.

Tempus adest fructus, vitis dedit ipsa labruscas,
proquerosacrevit aspera spina diu.
Heu, cadit in spinis quod ego in te semino semen,
et mentem spina suffocat ipsa tuam!
Quod loquor et moneo, quod semino, suscipit ipsa
que male multiplicat semen arena suum.

The time of fruit is here, the vine itself gave wild grapes,
and the harsh thorn long grew up tall.
Alas, that which I sow as seed in you falls into the thorns,
and the thorn itself smothers your very mind!
That which I speak and warn, that which I sow, the soil itself receives,
and the sand ill multiplies its seed.

Tu nimium tuus es, nimis et tibi credis, inepte,
et solus credis providus esse Cato:
phylosophus nimis es nimiumque platonior ipso,
ultra phylosophos mens tua sepe fluit.
Absque labore sequi (pitagorica cornua cerne)
virtutem dextro limite nemo potest.
Est alia furca facilis descensus Averni,
ut docet archiloqua voce poeta Maro.

You are too much your own, you trust yourself too greatly, fool,
and alone you think yourself provident as Cato:
you are too much a philosopher and too Platonic even than Plato himself,
beyond philosophers your mind often flows.
To follow virtue without toil (mark the Pythagorean horns)
no one can by a right boundary.
There is another fork, an easy descent to Avernus,
as the archiloquent-voiced poet Maro teaches.

Non sine sudore probitatis scanditur arbor,
nec sine sudore martiapalmavenit.
Laudo te, sed in hoc non laudo quod ipsa caduca
aufugisse citis gressibus orbe gemis.
Pro dolor!

The tree of probity is not climbed without sweat,
nor does the martial palm come without sweat.
I praise you, but in this I do not praise that you yourself, perishable,
have fled the world with swift steps, groaning.
Alas!

Unde doles, dolor? Unde tilmes, dolor? Unde
ploras?

Whence do you grieve, grief? Whence do you tremble, grief? Whence
do you weep?

Que tua sunt, o miseranda cinis?
Primitus in mundo tecum tua quanta tulisti?
Nudus eras primo et postea nudus eris."

What are yours, O pitiable ash?
At first in the world, how great things of yours did you bear with you?
You were naked at first and afterward you will be naked."

Tunc ego: "Mira refers. Quid et hoc est, vera sophya,
quod dicis? Nimis est hic mihi sermo gravis.

Then I: "You speak marvels. What is this also, true sophia,
that you say? This speech is too grave for me."

Quis modo tam mitis, tam dulcis tamque benignus,
quem nimis hec ultra non ferat ira modum?
Non ego, eum videam paleis postponere grana,
cum superet molles nunc saliunca rosas,
cum fructus hodie ante suos paret edereflores
arbor abortivis prodigiosa comis,
cum quod (grande nefas!) tolluntur ad alta nefandi
et premitur vita deteriore probus.
Dic michi, qui mores, que vita, quis ordo Neroni
Urbis et orbis opes imperiumque dedit?

Who but just now so gentle, so sweet, and so benign, whom this anger could no longer bear beyond measure?
I do not see him, to place him aside among palace graces, when now soft things outdo roses,
when fruit today brings forth its flowers before its own time, a tree prodigious with abortive locks,
when those things (a great crime!) are raised to the heights of the unspeakable, and upright life is pressed down by a worse one.
Tell me, what morals and what life, what order gave Nero the city and the world’s wealth and empire?

Ecce (sed id taceo) multi, probitate vetante,
nomen habent, quibus est nominis umbra pudor."

Behold (but I keep silent on that) many, probity forbidding,
have a name, for whom shame is the shadow of a name."

Tunc ea: "Deciperis, nec te ignorantia iuris
excusat; nimis es, imperiose, rudis.
Quam gravis hic labor et quam magna industria mentis
noscere veraci cognitione probos!
Sepe bonos mendax mentitur opinio pravos
atque e converso promovet ipsa malos.

Then she: "You are deceived, nor does ignorance of the law excuse you;
you are too, imperiously, unlearned.
How heavy this labor and how great the industry of the mind
to know the upright by truthful cognition!
Often a lying opinion calls good men wicked
and, contrariwise, itself promotes the bad.

Omnis que niveo volucris plumescit amictu,
non est, si simulet, vera columba tamen.
Sepe sub agnina latet hirtus pelle Lycaon,
subque Catone pio perfidus ipse Nero.
Econtra, bene scis, inter latet hispida mollis
tegmina sanguineo tincta ruborerosa,
tamque duces claros, Itacum prolemquePhilippi,
membra per obscuros littera prisca refert.

And every bird that is clad in a snowy plume,
is not, though it may feign, a true dove nevertheless.
Often beneath a sheep-skin the shaggy Lycaon lies concealed,
and beneath the pious Cato the perfidious Nero himself.
On the contrary, you well know, among them lies a bristly soft
covering dyed a blood-rosy hue,
and thus it tells, through ancient letters, of such famous leaders, the Ithacan and the offspring of Philip,
the limbs through obscure pages the old writ reports.

Multa vides igitur, faleris circumdata fictis,
que se longe aliter quam videantur habent.
Iniustos habuisse doles fastigia rerum:
longa tibi status hic causa doloris erit.
Quam sit ad alta trahi miserum mortalibus omen
nescis; si scires hoc, siluisse velis.

You see, then, many things surrounded by falsities and fictions,
which are in truth far different from how they appear.
You grieve that the high summits of affairs have been held by the unjust:
this prolonged status will be a cause of sorrow to you.
You do not know what an omen it is for mortals to be miserably dragged to the heights;
if you knew this, you would wish that you had kept silent.

Promovet iniustos Fortuna volubilis, ut quos
scandere precipites fecit, ad ima rotet;
nam graviore ruit turris tumefacta ruina,
et gravius pulsat alta cupressus humum.
Mens hominum quantis errorum ceca tenebris
mergitur, ut reputet sola nefanda bonum.
Non felix qui non ubi crescat honore, sed hic qui
non ubi decrescat, quo neque possit, habet.

Fickle Fortune promotes the unjust, so that those whom she made to climb headlong she turns down to the lowest places;
for a tower swollen with heavier ruin rushes down, and the lofty cypress strikes the ground more grievously.
The minds of men are plunged in how great blind darknesses of error,
so that they reckon the nefarious alone to be good.
Not fortunate is he who lacks a place where he may grow in honour, but fortunate is he who lacks a place where he may decrease — a thing which he cannot have.

Ve tibi, ve, mortale genus, quod semper ad alta
niteris ut lapsu perfidiore cadas!
Hic gladios, hic pocula sevus et hostis et hospes
temperat, interitus dira venena sui.
Aspice, cui totiens Capitolia celsa triumphos
obtulerant, famulum fata tulisse suum.

Alas for you, alas, mortal kind, who always strive for the heights
that you may fall by a more treacherous slip!
Here he tempers swords, here cups — a stern man both enemy and host and guest —
the dire poisons of his own ruin.
Behold him, to whom the lofty Capitolia so often had offered triumphs,
whom the fates have borne off as their own servant.

Aspice quem Babilon cupido potavit in auro
fataque quam tulerit Cesar acerba suis.
Nonne ferox Macedum protectus ab hoste tyrampnus
corda venenatus inter amica perit?
Quid Darium referam, quid Cyrum, quidve Neronem?

Behold whom Babylon, with craving, made drunk on gold
and what bitter fates Caesar brought upon his own.
Is not the fierce Macedonian, sheltered from the enemy by a tyrant,
his heart poisoned, perishing among friends?
What shall I tell of Darius, what of Cyrus, or of Nero?

Namtenui semper stamine pendet honor.
Ecce modernorum priscis exempla relictis:
paupertate nichil tutius esse potest.
Unicus ille leo, fidei vigor, unicus imo
murus et hostilis unicus ille timor,
dux ferus et nostre Corradus causa salutis,
(Cur?

For honor always hangs by a slender thread.
Behold examples of the moderns left to the ancients:
nothing can be safer than poverty.
That lone lion, the vigor of faith, the single indeed
wall, and that single hostile fear,
a fierce leader and our Corradus, cause of salvation,
(Why?

Quia magnus erat.) proditione perit.
Qui modo regnantes et fortes fregerat arces,
cui genus et census robora dura dabant,
nuper (ve misero!) sub paupertatis amictu
captus et inclusus Anglicus acta luit.
O cecum mortale genus, quid tutius ergo
paupertate?

(Because he was great.) he perishes by treachery.
He who but now had shattered reigning and mighty citadels,
to whom lineage and fortune gave hard strengths,
recently (oh wretched one!) under the cloak of poverty
captured and confined, the Englishman atoned for his deeds.
O blind mortal race, what then is safer than poverty?

Fere nil: nichil absque fere.
Vade per Yspanos, et nigros vade per Indos,
vade per insidias, vade per omne nemus,
vade per hostiles cuneos turmasque latronum,
dummodo sis verus, tutus, egenus, eris.
Quid faciet vacuus coram latrone viator?

Almost nothing: nothing without almost.
Go among the Spaniards, and go among the black Indians,
go through ambushes, go through every grove,
go through hostile wedges and the bands of robbers,
so long as you are true, safe, and needy, you will be.
What will an empty traveler do before a robber?

Letus et intrepidus fundet ad astra melos.
Quid rutili torques, quid prosunt ergo thiare,
quid sceptrum, quid honos, quid loculusve satur?
Quidve magistratus et quid pretiosa supellex?

Joyful and intrepid will pour to the stars a melos.
What are the gleaming torques, what then avail the tiaras,
what the scepter, what honour, what a purse well-filled?
Or what magistracies and what costly furnishings?

Paupertate nichil tutius esse potest."

Nothing can be safer than poverty."

Tunc ego: "Scire velim, si non nimis esset onustum:
mundus an hic vene deterioris erit,
an proprium, quod amo, scelus exuet an magis isto
qui iacet infelix stabit in esse suo?
Dic tamen ‚ unde supra memini bene ‚ cur retulisti:
"inmundus mundus que tibi munda dabit"?"

Then I: "I would fain know, if it were not too laden:
will this world here prove worse in coming,
or will the one I love put off his crime, or rather
will he who lies unhappy stand in his own being?
Speak yet — whence, as I remember well above, — why did you repeat:
"unclean world and yet the world will give you clean things"?"

Tunc ea: "Vix umbram gerit hoc: preludia rerum
solvere propositum luciditate queunt.
Nunquid ad argentum puro devenimus ab auro?
alter ab argento cursus ad era fuit,
tertius in ferrum fit cursus ab ere, quod et nunc
decidit in, cursu deteriore, lutum.

Then she: "This scarcely casts a shadow: the preludes of things
are able to loose the purpose with brightness. Do we then come to pure silver from gold?
one course moved from silver to bronze,
a third course becomes iron from bronze, which even now
falls, in a worse course, into mud.

Deficiente luto, quid erit? Veniemus ad ipsum
stercus et in tali feteat omnis homo.
Ecce vides quantis putrescit sordibus iste
mundus, et hoc ipsum nomen habere nequit.

When the mud fails, what will there be? Shall we come to dung itself
and in such stink every man reek? Behold, you see with how great filth this
world rots, and it cannot even bear that very name.

Omnia degenerant, peioribus omnia currunt
cursibus, et, fracto remige, navis abit.
Mundus amat, spernit, tenuat, secatur, abhorret:
pessima, iustitiam, iura, nefanda, bonum.
Mundus alit fraudes, refovet scelus, arcet honesta,
recta fugit, violat federa, fera cupit.

All things degenerate; all things run on in worse courses,
and, with the oar broken, the ship departs.
The world loves the worst, spurns justice, weakens laws, cuts off the unspeakable, and recoils from the good:
the world nourishes frauds, rekindles crime, drives away the honest, flees what is right, violates covenants, and desires the savage.

Ipsa, caput mundi, venalis curia pape
prostat et infirmat cetera membra caput.
Sacrum ‚ cerne nefas nostroque pudentius evo ‚
venditur in, turpi conditione, foro:
crisma sacrum, sacer ordo, altaria sacra, sacrata
dona; quid hec ultra? Venditur ipse Deus.

She herself, head of the world, the venal papal curia
lies exposed and weakens the other members the head.
See the sacred crime, ‚ more shameful for our age ‚
it is sold in a base condition in the market:
the sacred chrism, the sacred order, the sacred altars, the consecrated
gifts; what is this beyond? Even God himself is sold.

O sacra, que sacras maculant commertia sedes!
O sacra que faciunt celica templa forum!
Tale, tuus mundus, si mundus iure vocatur,
tale frequentatum sudat habere forum.

O sacred things, which profane dealings stain sacred seats!
O sacred things which make the heavenly temples a forum!
Such, your world, if the world is rightly called,
such it is — sweating to possess a frequented forum.

Ecce ‚ sed ista pudet ‚ circumvaga turba, scolares
sectantur propria venditione forum.
Citra legis iter, pro, tam pretiosa propago
venit servili conditione, dolor!
Libertas vitiata fugit: nunquanque vocari
ingenuum talem de ratione decet.

Behold ‚ but that wandering throng is ashamed ‚ schoolmen
pursue the forum with their own merchandise for sale.
Outside the law’s course, alas, such a precious offspring
comes into servile condition — woe!
Corrupted liberty flees: nowhere is it fitting to call
such a one free-born by reason.

Ecce, nefas! sese, stimulante cupidine, nupta
vendit et innupte contingit illud idem.
Si foret, ut quondam Lucretia, casta, crumena
cum sibi porrigitur, cedet avara tibi.

Behold, impious! the wife, urged on by desire, sells herself
and the same thing befalls the unwed woman.
If she were, as once Lucretia, chaste, when a purse
is held out to her, she will yield to you, avaricious one.

Penelope, vidue sue mercenaria vite,
ad nummi sonitus audiet illa preces.
Venditur, o dolor, omnificis sententia nummis,
iudiciumque pium copia frangit opum.
Deviat a vero corruptus munere iudex,
falsilocumque facit ius piagazapium.

Penelope, mercenary of her widowed life,
will hear petitions at the sound of coins.
She is sold, O sorrow, by the verdict of all for money,
and the abundance of riches breaks the pious judgment.
Corrupt by a gift, the judge turns aside from the truth,
and makes the law false through venal bribery.

Luxus edax livorque macer, cocus ardor habendi
vastat opes, mordet optima, corda cremat.
Pestis adulatrix ‚ pro! ‚ ficto risula vultu,
cuncta potest, satrapis delitiosa comes.

Luxury, voracious, and wan envy, the burning ardor of having
devastates wealth, gnaws the best, and burns hearts.
A flattering plague — "pro!" — with a counterfeit smiling visage,
she can do all things, a delightful companion to satraps.

Ecce suo Pilades ‚ scelus! ‚ insidiatur Horesti,
nuptaque sub proprium sannat iniqua virum.
Clericus edoctus, miles rudis et leve vulgus
negligit, horret, alit: iura, modesta, malum.

Ecce suo Pilades ‚ scelus! ‚ insidiatur Horesti,
nuptaque sub proprium sannat iniqua virum.
Clericus edoctus, miles rudis et leve vulgus
negligit iura, horret modesta, alit malum.

Migrat in exilium virtus vitiumque triumphat,
regnat et in populis grande tribunal habet.
Nescio quo ceco lenita papavere dormit
mensque Creatorem nescit iniqua suum.
En iterum toto lingua crucifigitur orbe,
en iterum patitur dira flagella Deus!

Virtue migrates into exile and vice triumphs,
and reigns and holds a great tribunal among the peoples.
I know not by what blind poppy soothed the mind sleeps,
and its unjust self knows not its Creator.
Lo, again the tongue is crucified throughout the whole world,
lo, again God suffers dire scourges!

Vespasiana manus iterum consurgat et omnem
diruat Occeanum qui scelerata patrat.
Factorem factura suum, stimulante tyrampno
delicti, factis despicit orba suis.
Inde fames venit, inde gravis discordia regnis,
inde Cananeis preda cibusque sumus,
inde premit gladius carnalis spiritualem,
et vice conversa spiritualis eum.

May the Vespasian hand rise up again and tear down the whole
Ocean that perpetrates wickedness.
The maker is made by his making, with the tyrant spurring on
the sin; he scorns, bereft, his own deeds.
From that comes famine, from that heavy discord in kingdoms,
from that we are prey and food to the Canaanites,
from that the carnal sword presses upon the spiritual,
and, by a reversed turn, the spiritual presses upon it.

Hinc subitos Atropos predatrix occupat artus,
nec sinit ut doleat peniteatque miser.
Iure vides igitur quod recta ligatio nectit
"inmundus mundus" hec duo verba simul."

From here the predatory Atropos seizes sudden limbs,
and does not allow the wretch to grieve and to repent.
Rightly you see, therefore, what the straight binding ties —
"inmundus mundus" these two words together.

Liber IV

BOOK 4

"Hactenus unde dolor et que fomenta doloris
vidimus, inventa perfiditatemali:
nunc opus est, morbumlevisut medicina refrenet
atque hostem faciat hostis abesse suum.
Primitus insanas lacrimarum pelle procellas,
quarum coniugio perditur omne bonum:
nam dolor accumulat vires, ubi planctus abundat,
tristitiamquemaliduplicat ipse sui.
Si mala dat planctus, malus est hic ergo, necesse;
si malus, ergo nocet; si nocet, ergo fuge.

"Hitherto from whence pain and the fomentations of pain we have seen, the treachery of evil having been discovered:
now it is needed that a slight disease be checked as by medicine
and that an enemy make the enemy be absent from his own.
Primum, drive away the frantic storms of tears,
by whose conjunction every good is lost:
for pain gathers strength where lamentation abounds,
and the sadness of evil itself doubles its own harm.
If lamentation gives evils, lamentation is therefore evil, necessarily;
if evil, then it harms; if it harms, then flee."

Contra merorem,capegaudia, velle refrena,
atquemalifinem semper adesse puta.
Grata superveniet que non sperabitur hora,
que compensabit fellea prisca favis.
Una serena dies multorum nubila pensat,
et lutcum, tergit quod facit unda, solum.

Against sorrow, seize joys, restrain the desire to will them,
and suppose that the evil end is always at hand.
A welcome hour will arrive which shall not be expected,
and will repay old bitterness with honeyed combs.
One serene day outweighs the clouds of many,
and the wave alone wipes away the grief which it makes.

Fortunam dimitte vagam, permitte vagari,
que nunquam stabili ludere fronte potest.
Contra Fortunam sis constans, sis patiens, sis
ferreus, adversi te neque frangat hiems.
Fortuna ridente gemas, plorante ioceris:
ipsa sit auspitium tempus in omne tuum.

Dismiss wandering Fortune, permit her to wander,
who can never play with a stable brow.
Against Fortune be constant, be patient, be
ferreous, may the adverse winter not break you.
When Fortune laughs you will groan, when she weeps you will jest:
may that very thing be the auspice for all your time.

Cuncta rotat fortuna rota, qua cuncta rotantur;
sic tenui magnus orbis in orbe perit.
Firmus in adversis piger ad mala, tardus ad iram,
promptus ad obsequium, triste ad omne nefas.
Sis tibi discipulus aliisque magister, et intus
sis tuus, extra sed totus alius eris.

Fortune turns the wheel, by which all things are turned;
thus in a slender circle the great orb perishes within a circle.
Firm in adversities, slow toward evils, slow to anger,
ready in service, sorrowful at every crime.
Be to yourself a pupil and to others a teacher, and inwardly
be yourself, but outwardly you will be wholly another.

Virtutem pete sed vitium fuge, quod sit honestum
quere, quod utile; quod turpe fugando fuge.
Amplexanda tibi, cleri thesaurus, honestas
et ratio, populis heu! modo rara comes.

Seek virtue but shun vice; seek what is honorable
what is useful; what is shameful, flee by fleeing it.
To be embraced by you, the clergy’s treasure, honesty
and reason, for peoples, alas! now only a rare companion.

Ne viscosa manus oleoque nec uncta sit, immo,
inter utrumque tenens, respuat omne nimis.
Inter Democritum tristemque Demostena curre,
inde statum libret virgo modesta tuum.
Stillet in ore favus, sed mente resultet oliva,
et non sit totus sensus in ore tuo.

Let not your hand be sticky nor anointed with oil, nay,
holding itself between the two, spurn every excess.
Run between Democritus and gloomy Demosthenes,
thence let your modest maiden stand firm for you.
Let honey drip from your mouth, but let the olive resound in your mind,
and let not all your sense be in your mouth.

Respue multivagos, stabiles sectare, caduca
pensa, peccantes argue, siste leves.
Dicta minus sint, facta magis, sis parcus in hymnis,
parcus in obprobriis, largus ad omne decus.
Factaque si desint, non desint verba benigna:
nam multos caros mellea lingua parit.

Spurn the many‑wandering; pursue the steadfast; weigh the fleeting things; rebuke sinners; check the light‑minded.
Let words be fewer, deeds more; be sparing in hymns, sparing in reproaches, bountiful toward every honor.
And if deeds are lacking, let kindly words not be lacking: for a honeyed tongue wins many to affection.

Maiores sectare, pares venerare, minores
instrue; vel iuvenes punge, vel unge senes.
Ebrietatis honus fuge, sperne Cupidinis antrum:
exulat hinc virtus hec ubi iura tenent.
Sibila ne vulgi, nec dona retrograda cures;
extra virtutem sit tua cura nichil.

Follow the elders, venerate your peers, instruct the younger;
either prick the youth, or anoint the old men.
Flee the honor of drunkenness, spurn Cupid’s cave:
thence virtue exults where laws hold.
Care not for the sibyls of the crowd, nor for retrograde gifts;
let nothing be your care outside of virtue.

Si Petra sit glacies, quid ad hoc? Magis utilis esset
paganus tibi quam Clagiver, uncus homo.
Aurum plumbescit, quid ad hoc?

If stone were ice, what of that? A pagan would be more useful to you than Clagiver, a hooked man.
Gold grows leaden, what of that?

Et nectar acescit;
quodque Monarcha negat sepe tetrarcha facit.
Ergo Dei primo confidas in bonitate,
et tua virtutum iure secundet eam.
Natura contentus eris; mala scandala vita,
et tua consilium quelibet acta probent.

And nectar turns sour;
and what the Monarch often denies the tetrarch does.
Therefore first trust in the goodness of God,
and let your right of virtues support it.
Content yourself with nature; evils are stumbling-blocks in life,
and let every deed approve your counsel.

Ad tempus lusor, nunquam delusor, amicus
semper sis minus in corpore, mente magis.
Sanctiloquos rimare libros, mansuesce rogatus;
legibus insuda, nil nisi iusta refer.
Paucis dedecus, omnibus obsequium, caveas ne
frons rugosa neget quod manus ipsa facit.

For a time a player, never a deceiver, a friend
always be less in body, more in mind.
Pore over saintly books; be meek when asked;
apply yourself to the laws, report nothing but what is just.
Show disgrace to few, courtesy to all; beware lest
a wrinkled brow deny what the hand itself does.

Qui decus oblatum rugosa fronte venenat,
plus mihi diabolo displicet ille dator,
Dona serenus homo carumque serenat amicum,
atque datum facie duplicat ipse suum.
Nil nisi quod dederis promittas; namque trutanam
esse facit linguam sepe ciragra manus.
Mallem te podagrum quam taliter esse ciragrum:
invalidis pedibus auxiliantur equi.

He who poisons an offered honor with a wrinkled brow,
that giver displeases me more than the devil,
a calm man gives gifts and cheers his dear friend,
and by his visage himself doubles what is given.
Promise nothing but what you have given; for a flattering hand
often makes the tongue a deceiver.
I would rather you be gout-ridden than be such a toady:
horses aid feet that are invalid.

Quod donare velis, dones sine spe redeundi,
ne quod aperta dedit, detrahat unca manus:
nam dator ablator cancrum gradiendo figurat,
quem cancrum faciat dedecus esse suum.
Nec circa famulos te pessima consiliatrix
concitet iratis vocibus ira gravis:
maior enim virtus clementer habere clientes
quam quos maiores efficit ipse gradus.
Ne sis linguosus, nec in omni famine mutus,
sed sola studeas utilitate loqui.

What you wish to give, give without hope of returning,
lest a hooked hand take away what was openly given:
for the giver portrays the taker as a crab by his gait,
whom disgrace makes to be his own crab.
Nor about your servants let the worst counsellor
stir you up with angry voices, grave wrath:
for greater is the virtue to hold clients with clemency
than those whom rank itself makes greater by its steps.
Be not loquacious, nor at every famine mute,
but strive to speak only with usefulness.

In te cognoscas alios: magis utile nil est,
et magis urbanum nullus in orbe potest.
Ne sit amica tibi pregnans extensio ventris:
nam nimis est miserum corpus hebere cibis.
Nulla minor virtus sotium quam vincere mensa,
et sacco ventris equiparare peram.

To recognize others in yourself: nothing is more useful,
and no one in the world can be more urbane.
Let the bulging extension of the belly not be a friend to you:
for it is too miserable that the body be weighed down by foods.
There is no lesser virtue in a companion than to master the table,
and to make the purse equal to the belly’s sack.

Ipocrite vitium, Simonis contagia, que nunc
clericus omnis amat, sint inimica tibi.
Accusare cave, quem non accusat abusus,
ne, male procedens, tu patiaris idem.
Prospera non semper, nec queras semper amena:
non semper dulcis lingitur ore favus.

O hypocrite, vice, contagion of Simon, which now
every cleric loves—may they be hostile to you.
Beware to accuse him whom abuse does not accuse,
lest, proceeding ill, you suffer the same.
Not always prosperous, nor always seek pleasant things:
not always is honey sweet when licked by the mouth.

Non omni pratum festivant temporeflores,
nec semper viridis purpurat herba solum.
Utere discretis, quibus inclita vita sit, unde
iam nisi discretum sumere nemo potest:
namque bonis bona, sed de pravis prava trahuntur:
dulcia de dulci palmite vina fluunt.
Nonrosadat spinas, quamvit sit filia spine,
nec viole pungunt, nec paradisus obest.

Not every meadow do the seasons adorn with flowers,
nor does green herb always dye the soil purple.
Choose the discreet, those by whom life is renowned, from whom
now no one can take except the discreet:
for from the good come good things, but from the depraved are drawn depraved things:
sweet wines flow from the sweet vine-stock.
A rose does not become thorns, though she be a daughter of the thorn,
nor do violets prick, nor does paradise do harm.

Plus tibi sit carum mundum quam mundus, amicus
quam sotius, quam sit sanguinis ipse gradus.
Ne nimium stolide te credas credulitati:
nam plus quam Scarioth traditat illa viros.
Non magis Yconium Fredericum tradidit olim
quam nunc credulitas suspitiosa suos.

Let the world be more dear to you than a friend, than a kinsman, than even the very degree of blood.
Do not, too foolishly, trust yourself to credulity: for it betrays men more than Scariot.
It did not surrender Iconium to Frederick in former times more than now suspicious credulity betrays its own.

Plurima sustineas: iungo medicamina morbis,
ut multum morbum multa medela fuget.
Ut varias optant diversa negotia leges,
sic varias fisicas invaletudo tremens.
Hee succos, hee semen amant, hee cortice gaudent,
his coma, radices, his medicina favet.

You should endure very many things: I join remedies to diseases,
so that many cures may drive away much illness.
Just as laws choose different affairs,
so the trembling sickness gains strength from various physicks.
These love juices, these the seed, these take pleasure in bark,
to some foliage, roots, to others medicine gives favour.

Freneticos malve, colicos absinthia curant,
empicus anetum, lac quoque spasmus amat.
Sic non offitium celebrat quinarius unum
sensus, sed propria quilibet arte viget.
Ille colores, ille sonos, sapit ille sapores,
alter odoratus; alter amena sapit.

Wormwood cures the frenzied and colics; empircus loves dill, milk too fondles spasm.
Thus not one of the five senses alone performs its office,
but each one thrives by its own proper art.
One (sense) knows colours, one (sense) sounds, one tastes flavours,
another is odorous; another delights in the pleasant.

Tu quoque, quem nimio vitium deforme fatigat
pondere, virtutum pocula plura bibas.
Sit tibi cara tui victoria plus aliena,
et te plus aliis vincere marte stude.
Crede mihi, magis est virtute domare teipsum,
quam vice Sansonis sternere mille viros.

You too, whom a deforming vice wearies with excessive weight,
drink more cups of virtues.
Let the victory of your own be dearer to you than another's,
and strive more to conquer others by martial prowess.
Believe me, it is more by virtue to master yourself,
than by the might of Samson to lay low a thousand men.

Quemlibet offitiis ‚ ne queras quis sit ‚ honora:
nam multos claros letus amicat honor.
Gressibus assiduis quisquis bene querit honorem
reciprocis gradibus hunc quoque querit honor.
Blandus adulator et proditor impius, equo
semper, dum vivis, sint in amore tibi:
nam naturali blanditor iure tenetur
risibus et faleris proditor esse suis.

Honor any man with services, and do not ask who he is:
for honor makes many a famous man agreeable.
Whoever seeks honor by constant steps rightly, with reciprocal steps honor seeks him too.
Let the blandishing flatterer and the impious betrayer be equally in your affection always while you live:
for by natural right the flatterer is bound to be a betrayer to his own by smiles and falsities.

Fistula dulce canit, michi si non, crede Gatoni,
dum lira dulcisono carmine prodit aves.
Nec nimis astutis vulpescat lingua loquelis:
nam dubiam pariunt vulpida verba fidem.
Neve tuum iactes alienum, deprecor, hymnum
ne volucrum sinodo nuda cachinnet avis.

The pipe sings sweetly, if not to me, believe Gatoni,
while the lyre with its sweet-sounding song brings forth birds.
Nor let your tongue be too fox-like in its speech:
for crafty words beget doubtful faith.
Nor boast another’s as your own, I pray, a hymn,
lest a bird, stripped naked among the flock of birds, cackle.

Numquam cervicem sine cauda pingere temptes:
nam sine fine suo primitiare nocet.
Mutus ad obprobrium, surdusque ad murmura, cecus
ad vanum, stolide claudus ad artis iter.
Hymnificet de te tua non, sed vox aliena:
nam bene festivos stercorat illa viros.

Never attempt to paint a neck without a tail:
for to begin without its end harms.
Mute before reproach, and deaf to murmurs, blind
to vanity, foolishly lame on the road of art.
Let not your own voice hymn of you, but a foreign voice:
for that one well defiles festive men.

Sit tibi plus inimica noverca superbia morum,
quam que Christicolas gens Saladina necat.
Sitque magis solito tibi gustus amoris amarus:
nam scio, quod scio, quod tu fere stultus amas.
Quid tibi cum ganea?

Let pride, the stepmother of your morals, be more hostile to you than the people of Saladin is to Christians.
And let the taste of love be more bitter to you than usual:
for I know, that I know, that you are almost foolish in love.
What have you to do with a bawd?

Quid cum meretricis alumpno?
Credis tu Paridi? Stultus es atqueParis.

What of the courtesan's ward?
Do you believe Paris? You are foolish andParis.

Spurius ille puer nullum suadebit honestum:
natus adulterio, semper adulter erit.
Quos heremitat amor, potius deremitat; et ipse
fac amet Yppolitus, mente Priapus erit.
Est fugiendus ob ista, fide ieiunus ab omni,
qui nimis orbiculat deque crumenat, amor.

That Spurius boy will incite nothing honourable:
born of adultery, he will always be an adulterer.
Whom love abandons, it rather destroys; and even if
you make Hippolytus love, in mind he will be Priapus.
Love must be shunned for these things, fasting in faith from all;
love is he who is too money-minded and cares only for the purse.

Proscribas igitur gladiis et fustibus ipsum,
et fugiendo fuga quem fuga sola fugat.
Ne te pigritie consors dilatio tardet:
ad bona nam cupiens omnia tarda putat.
Nammora denigrat donum meritumque minorat;
sed cita grandificat munera parva manus.

Proscribe therefore him with swords and clubs,
and by fleeing, by flight, flee him whom flight alone drives off.
Let not delay, consort of sloth, slow you:
for he desiring goods deems all things slow.
For delay disparages a gift and lessens merit;
but a quick hand magnifies small gifts.

Ne credas solos magnates esse timendos:
est fidus socius, est et amicus amans.
Maior honor Piladem carumque timere sodalem
quam Sirie regem cesareosque duces.
Invidians fugias morsusque sororis iniquos
que rabido clarum dente caninat opus.

Do not think that magnates alone are to be feared:
there is a faithful companion, and also a loving friend.
It is greater honor to fear Pylades and a dear comrade than the king of Syria and Caesarean leaders.
Flee the envious, and the unjust bites of a sister,
which with a rabid tooth may gnaw at a renowned work.

Nec te pretereat humane sortis origo,
terrea testa, luti gleba, miserque cinis.
Heu, caro nostra, dolor, plus flore caduca caduco,
qui parvo spatio fit puer atque senex!
Quam fragilem textrix contexit aranea telam,
tam fragili tegitur tegmine vita brevis.

Nor let the origin of your human lot escape you, an earthen shard, a clod of clay, and wretched ash.
Ah, our flesh, our sorrow, more fleeting than a withered flower to the withered, who in a small space becomes boy and old man!
How fragile a web the weaver-spider has woven,
so with a fragile covering brief life is clad.

Quemlibet in propriis gradibus probitatis honora,
optimitas tibi sit plus bonitate placens.
Simplicitate fruens, hic scotica fercula miscet
qui plus atque minus equat honore pari.
Fermentat claros numerosa pecunia mores,
que tibi si fuerit hospes, et hostis ego.

Honor every man in his own degrees of probity,
let excellence to you be more pleasing through goodness.
Rejoicing in simplicity, this one mixes scotica dishes
who makes more and less equal with equal honor.
Abundant money corrupts distinguished manners,
and if he be a guest to you, then I am an enemy.

Moribus excultus, sincerus mente, modestus
actibus, exemplum voce, rigore gravis.
Dura, modesta, probis; patiens, maturus, abundans:
perfer, ama, tribuas; mente, vigore, manu.
Contra ventosas rabies et fulminis ictus
plus quercu solida lenis arundo potest.

Refined in morals, sincere of mind, modest
in actions, an example in speech, grave in strictness.
Hardy, modest, upright; patient, mature, abundant:
bear, love, bestow; with mind, with vigour, with hand.
Against windy rage and the stroke of lightning
a gentle reed can prevail more than solid oak.

Prevalet in cunctis discreta modestia rebus,
qua sine virtutum grande peribit opus:
nam pravis dare, nil aliud quam prava fovere;
unde probis tantum debet adesse manus.
Sint licet obscuri, ne spernas corporis artus,
in quibus ingenium plus brevitate potest.
Lampadibus templum ditans, dulcore palatum,
est brevis et fructu duplice servit apis.

Discreet modesty prevails in all affairs,
without which the great work of virtues will perish:
for to give to the wicked is nothing else than to foster the wicked;
whence only the hand ought to be present to the good.
Though the limbs of the body may be obscure, do not spurn them,
in which genius can achieve more by brevity.
Enriching the temple with torches, the palate with sweetness,
the bee is short-lived and serves with a double fruit.

Est brevis accipiter, volucrum tamen obruit agmen,
et fugat elatum vipera parva bovem.
Sit tibi perpetuum spolians derisio dentes
hostis, et insidie et dolus illud idem.
Discretus, sapiens, urbanus, largus, honorus,
providus, intentus, strenuus esto, vigil.

There is a small hawk, yet it overwhelms a host of birds,
and a small viper puts to flight a proud ox.
May perpetual derision that robs the teeth be your enemy, and ambush and deceit that same thing.
Be discreet, wise, urbane, bountiful, honourable,
provident, intent, vigorous: be watchful.

Scripta legens veterum, rigidum sectare Catonem,
morigerum Senecam, pacificumque Probum;
Dulichium, Adrastum, Ciceronem, Nestora, Titum:
pectore, consilio, more, loquendo, manu.
Indue virtutum trabeam, mentemque trutanam
exue, quere honum, despiciasque malum.
Non Ypocras, non ipse suis Podalirius herbis,
non (licet ingenium fundat Apollo suum)
omnia verbosis memorent medicamina linguis;
que si temptarem singula, tempus abit.

Reading the writings of the ancients, follow stern Cato,
the well‑mannered Seneca, and peaceful Probus;
Dulichius, Adrastus, Cicero, Nestor, Titus:
in heart, in counsel, in manner, in speaking, in hand.
Put on the trabea of virtues, and put off the silly mind;
seek honour, and despise evil.
Not Hypocras, not Podalirius himself with his herbs,
not (though Apollo may establish his own genius)
should let all remedies be rehearsed by wordy tongues;
and if I were to try each one, time would be consumed.

Et michi Secaneos, ubi nostra palatia, muros
(sic stat propositum mentis) adire libet.
Ergo dicta tuis iungas medicamina morbis,
et quecunque vides proficienda tibi.
Litibus hostis, fraudibus hostis, criminis hostis,
et que depravant omnibus hostis eris.

And to me, Secaneos, where our palaces and walls are, it is pleasing to go
(so stands the intention of the mind).
Therefore join the aforesaid medicines to your illnesses,
and whatever you see that will profit you.
An enemy in lawsuits, an enemy in frauds, an enemy in accusation,
and whatever things corrupt, you will be an enemy to all.

Iuris amicus, honoris amicus, amicus honesti
et que iustificant rebus amicus eris.
Hec precepta libens vigili trahe morbidus aure,
que permixta simul combibe, sanus eris.
Et licet hec bona sint, multo potiora relinquo
que non sunt humeris offitiosa tuis.

Friend of law, friend of honor, friend of the honorable,
and you will be a friend to things that justify affairs.
These precepts willingly draw, sick one, to a wakeful ear,
and those mixed together imbibe at once, you will be healthy.
And although these things are good, far more weighty I leave behind
which are not burdensome upon your shoulders.

Hec tibi sufficiant: non omnia possumus omnes;
tu quod habere vales, suscipe: velle sine.
Argento fruitur, rutilans cui deficit aurum,
et violas carpit qui nequit ungue rosam."
Tunc iter arripiens ait: "Hec, Henrice, reconde."
Et finem verbis hunc dedit illa: "Vale."

Let these suffice you: not all of us can do all things;
receive what you are able to have: be without wanting.
He enjoys silver, for whom glittering gold is lacking,
and he plucks violets who cannot with his nail seize a rose."
Then, taking up his journey, he said: "These, Henry, stow away."
And she gave this end to the words: "Farewell."

O meus alter ego, probitatis alumpnus et hospes,
Lognepres, Henricum mente resume tuum.
Nulla remota via solidum partitur amorem,
et quem partitur integritate caret.
Nec mons, nec planum, nec pars spatiosa marina,
disiungunt hos quos copulat unus amor.

O my other self, foster-son of probity and guest,
Lognepres, recall Henry to your mind.
No distant road severs steadfast love,
nor that which lacks integrity divides him.
Neither mountain, nor plain, nor wide stretch of sea,
separate those whom one love joins.

Lognepres, unde locus quod amor dimittat amorem?
Talis ab oppositis dicitur esse locus.
Ergo, ut vivat amor, concordia donat et unum
Velle duos unum mentibus esse facit.

Lognepres, whence is the place that love dismisses love?
Such a place is said to be born of opposites.
Therefore, that love may live, concord gives and one will
— it makes two to be one in their minds.

Tuque, nec inmerito, cui nomen floris adheret,
Florenti, famulum mente resume tuum.
Pareo tibi, quia parco tuis, flos inclite, culpis,
ni tua vivifices risibus acta tuis.
Suscipe millenis citharam quam dirigo nervis,
Orpheus ignota carminis arte rudis.

And you, not without reason, whose name cleaves to "flower,"
Florenti, receive your servant with your mind.
I yield to you, for I spare your faults, illustrious flower,
unless you enliven your deeds with your smiles.
Take up the lyre of a thousand strings which I tune with my nerves,
Orpheus, unskilled in the unknown art of song.

Inclite, cui vivo, si vivo, provide presul
Florentine, statum scito benigne meum.
Sum passus gravia, graviora, gravissima, quarto
passio, si velit ars, possit inesse gradu.
Ergo vale, presul; sum vester, spiritus iste
post mortem vester, credite, vester erit.

Illustrious one, to whom—while I live, if I live—provide, Florentine prelate,
kindly know my state. I have suffered grave things, graver, gravest; a fourth
passion, if art so wills, may be able to enter into the grade. Therefore farewell, prelate; I am yours, this spirit
after your death, believe, will be yours.

Vivus et extinctus te semper amabo; sed esset
viventis melior quam morientis amor.

I will always love you, alive and dead; but the love of the living would be better than that of the dying.