Showing posts with label Virgil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Virgil. Show all posts

Friday, February 25, 2011

Virgil on Souls

Reading Aen 6, Il 3, Is 45, Rev. 19, Pascal

This isn't terribly different than Plato, but it's interesting to hear it attempted in verse. Versifying or translating a thought to another language quickly purifies the fluff and nonsense. This is Father Anisches:

“Principio caelum ac terras camposque liquentis
lucentemque globum Lunae Titaniaque astra
spiritus intus alit, totamque infusa per artus
mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet.
Inde hominum pecudumque genus, vitaeque volantum,
et quae marmoreo fert monstra sub aequore pontus.
Igneus est ollis vigor et caelestis origo
seminibus, quantum non noxia corpora tardant,
terrenique hebetant artus moribundaque membra.
Hinc metuunt cupiuntque, dolent gaudentque, neque auras
dispiciunt clausae tenebris et carcere caeco.
Quin et supremo cum lumine vita reliquit,
non tamen omne malum miseris nec funditus omnes
corporeae excedunt pestes, penitusque necesse est
multa diu concreta modis inolescere miris.
Ergo exercentur poenis, veterumque malorum
supplicia expendunt: aliae panduntur inanes
suspensae ad ventos; aliis sub gurgite vasto
infectum eluitur scelus, aut exuritur igni;
quisque suos patimur Manes; exinde per amplum
mittimur Elysium, et pauci laeta arva tenemus;
donec longa dies, perfecto temporis orbe,
concretam exemit labem, purumque relinquit
aetherium sensum atque auraï simplicis ignem.
Has omnes, ubi mille rotam volvere per annos,
Lethaeum ad fluvium deus evocat agmine magno,
scilicet immemores supera ut convexa revisant,
rursus et incipiant in corpora velle reverti.”

In the beginning heaven and earth and the fields of water and light and the orb of the moon and the Titanian stars nourish the spirit within, and the mind poured through the members moves the whole mass within the vast frame and mixes itself with the body. Thence the races of man and cattle, and living things of flight, and the monsters under the deep of the marble sea. Fiery force and heavenly origin there is to theses seeds, so far as their harmful bodies do not slow them, and their terrestrial limbs and mortal members do not blunt them. Hence (coming) they fear and desire, they sorrow and laugh, nor do they discern the light closed in darkness and in blind prison. Nay, even when life has left them at the last light, nevertheless all the wickedness from their sorrows nor do all the plagues from the bottom of the body  pass out, and inside it must be long having hardened to grown in marvelous ways. Therefore by penalties they are purified, and these punishments cleanse them of old evils: some are stretched hanging to the winds; others are under a vast whirlpool steeped are washed of wickedness; or they are burned with fire; and we each suffer our own in Manes; from thence we are sent through spacious Elysium, and we have a few joys in the region. Until the long day, with the time of earth having been completed, the hardened disgrace is removed, and it leaves pure aethereal sense and the flame of simple light (wind?). All these, when through a thousand years the wheel is turned, the god calls to the river Lethe in a great column, namely that without memory they may revisit the vaults above, and willingly they begin again returned to body.

That does NOT translate very well.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

RPO!


Congratulations to J, who played a recital at RWC tonight and played as well as I’ve ever heard her. She performed with J. Werner, playing Chaminade, a piece composed for the two of us by D. Anderson, Ian Clarke’s Zoom Tube, the Carmen Fantasie, and a duet with D. Smith from Sonnambula. She looked lovely, played lovely, and gave a great performance. Most wonderfully of all, her audience packed the recital hall. Nearly our entire family was there, along with RWC students, professors, church members, and guests from College Greene.

Today (which was quite the eventful day) is also the 1st birthday of Baby H, which we will celebrate with her and her parents on Sunday. I play RPO (3rd Trumpet on La Mer) this week and had a great double rehearsal day with the guys. It is a privilege to sit in the midst of that glorious sound. I brought and read Udolpho and Chesterton’s Lunacy and Letters. Also reading today Aeneid 6, Iliad 3, Is. 42, and Rev. 14.


Suddenly Aeneas looked back, and leftwards he saw wide bulwarks under the cliff, a wall thrice enforced, which fierce flame girded in burning rivers, Phlegethon of Tartarus, and it twists over the resounding rocks. There is an enormous gate in front, and of the column unbroken iron, so strong that no man, nor the dwellers of heaven themselves, might be strong in battle to tear it down. The tower of iron rises to the skies, and it is the seat of Tisiphone, girded with a bloodstained robe, who keeps the porch day and night without sleep. Hence is groaning discerned, and savage lashes sounding; then the grating of iron, and the dragging of chains.

vestibulum exsomnis servat noctesque diesque

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Damnation

Hic, quos durus amor crudeli tabe peredit,
secreti celant calles et myrtea circum
silva tegit: curae non ipsa in morte relinquunt.

Here, those which rude love devoured in cruel decay
wander in hidden in paths and the myrtle wood cover
them round; their cares in death they have not left behind.

If, as C.S.L. points out in Problem of Pain, one the healings of the resurrected body shall be a restored will which no longer requires the disciplined exertion of the Christian who must teach it to obey, all the time guarding against its "journey homeward to the habitual self." We shall ourselves be resurrected, but we shall no longer struggle against that curse of our mortal flesh which set up our self as its own god. The self will recognize fully the master which, fighting against its own imbalance, serves imperfectly now. I wonder if Virgil is not so far off of Hell in his Campi Lugentes. A sinner restored to his body with all the memory of all his sorrows, and no inclination towards the dulling medicine of forgetfulness and self-commendation would decay indefinitely pining for those imperfect goods he bowed before in this life. His cares would not leave him behind in death, neither being released from his hands nor pardoned for him. He would be just like a disappointed lover, ever tormented by himself. Also, if it needs to be said, exspectamus resurrectionem mortuorum!

I taught 8th grade Spanish today, and supervised the cafeteria. Lux and M came over after school and we had coffee, talking about Ethan Frome (which Lux finished), Baby H, Lemony Snicket, and Shakespeare Night, which is beginning to take shape. I read Aeneid VI, Iliad II, Rev. 10, Is. 40, Cicero, and Udolpho. This is a little gem from The Sea-Nymph

Sometimes, a single note I swell
That, softly sweet, at distance dies
Then wake the magic of my shell,
And choral voices round me rise!

It could be called "The Lot of the Tam-Tam"

Romney, I'm convinced all people shall be saved!
LOL!