Quinti Catuli.
QUINTI CATULI.
Constiteram exorientem Auroram forte salutans,
Cum subito a laeva Roscius exoritur.
Pace mihi liceat, coelestes, dicere vestra.
Mortalis visu pulchrior esse deo.
Blanditur puero satyrus vultuque manuque;
Nolenti similis retrahit ora puer:
Quem non commoveat, quamvis de marmore? fundit
Pene preces satyrus, pene puer lachrymas.
ENGLISHED.
As once I bad good morning to the day,
O' th' sudden Roscius breaks in a bright ray:
Gods with your favour, I've presum'd to see
A mortal fairer then a deitie.
With looks and hands a satyre courts the boy,
Who draws back his unwilling cheek as coy.
Although of marble hewn, whom move not they?
The boy ev'n seems to weep, the satyre, pray.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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L’Impur Et Fier Epoux
L'impur et fier époux que la chèvre désire
Baisse le front, se dresse et cherche le satyre.
Le satyre, averti de cette inimitié,
Affermit sur le sol la corne de son pié;
Et leurs obliques fronts, lancés tous deux ensemble,
Se choquent; l'air frémit, le bois s'agite et tremble.
poem by Andre Marie de Chenier
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Portii Licinii
PORTII LICINII.
Si Phoebi soror es, mando tibi, Delia, causam,
Scilicet, ut fratri quae peto verba feras:
Marmore Sicanio struxi tibi, Delphice, templum,
Et levibus calamis candida verba dedi.
Nunc, si nos audis, atque es divinus Apollo,
Dic mihi, qui nummos non habet unde petat.
ENGLISHED.
If you are Phoebus sister, Delia, pray,
This my request unto the Sun convay:
O Delphick god, I built thy marble fane,
And sung thy praises with a gentle cane,
Now, if thou art divine Apollo, tell,
Where he, whose purse is empty, may go fill.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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April Snow
The sky grew dark this April morn,
The north wind blew his snowy scorn.
Suddenly all was dressed in white,
Spring turned to Winter by his smite.
Dark clouds passed and the sun shone through,
The snow was gone and Spring renewed.
Old man Winter tried one last hour....
But new maiden Spring would not cower! !
Copyright ©2006 Pene Burkey
poem by Pene Burkey
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Ad Sylonem. Ep. 104.
AD SYLONEM. EP. 104.
Aut sodes mihi redde decem sestertia, Sylo,
Deindo esto quam vis saevus et indomitus;
Aut si te nummi delectant, desine, quaeso,
Leno esse, atque idem saevus et indomitus.
ENGLISHED.
Sylo, pray pay me my ten sesterces,
Then rant and roar as much as you shall please;
Or if that mony takes [you,] pray, give ore
To be a pimp, or else to rant and roar.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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De Puero Et Praecone. Catul.
DE PUERO ET PRAECONE. CATUL.
Cum puero bello praeconem qui videt esse,
Quid credat, nisi se vendere discupere?
CATUL.
With a fair boy a cryer we behold,
What should we think, but he would not be sold?
poem by Richard Lovelace
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On the Nativity of Christ
RORATE coeli desuper!
Hevins, distil your balmy schouris!
For now is risen the bricht day-ster,
Fro the rose Mary, flour of flouris:
The cleir Sone, quhom no cloud devouris,
Surmounting Phebus in the Est,
Is cumin of his hevinly touris:
Et nobis Puer natus est.
Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis,
Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir,
And all ye hevinly operationis,
Ster, planeit, firmament, and spheir,
Fire, erd, air, and water cleir,
To Him gife loving, most and lest,
That come in to so meik maneir;
Et nobis Puer natus est.
Synnaris be glad, and penance do,
And thank your Maker hairtfully;
For he that ye micht nocht come to
To you is cumin full humbly
Your soulis with his blood to buy
And loose you of the fiendis arrest--
And only of his own mercy;
Pro nobis Puer natus est.
All clergy do to him inclyne,
And bow unto that bairn benyng,
And do your observance divyne
To him that is of kingis King:
Encense his altar, read and sing
In holy kirk, with mind degest,
Him honouring attour all thing
Qui nobis Puer natus est.
Celestial foulis in the air,
Sing with your nottis upon hicht,
In firthis and in forrestis fair
Be myrthful now at all your mycht;
For passit is your dully nicht,
Aurora has the cloudis perst,
The Sone is risen with glaidsum licht,
Et nobis Puer natus est.
Now spring up flouris fra the rute,
Revert you upward naturaly,
In honour of the blissit frute
That raiss up fro the rose Mary;
Lay out your levis lustily,
Fro deid take life now at the lest
In wirschip of that Prince worthy
Qui nobis Puer natus est.
Sing, hevin imperial, most of hicht!
Regions of air mak armony!
All fish in flud and fowl of flicht
Be mirthful and mak melody!
All Gloria in excelsis cry!
Heaven, erd, se, man, bird, and best,--
He that is crownit abone the sky
Pro nobis Puer natus est!
poem by William Dunbar
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L Ci Darem La Mano (feat. Luciano Pavarotti)
L ci darem la mano,
L mi dirai di s,
Vedi, non lontano,
Partiam, ben mio, da qui.
Vorrei, e non vorrei,
Mi trema un poco il cor
Felice, ver, sarei,
Ma pu burlami ancor.
Vieni, mio bel diletto!
Mifa piet Masetto. Io cangier tua sorte
Presto non son pi forte.
Andiam, andiam...
Andiam...
Andiam, andiam, mio bene,
A ristorar le pene
D'un innocente amor.
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shepherd's Conceit of Prometheus
Prometheus when firste frome heaven hye
He broughte downe fyre, 'ere then on earthe not seene,
Fond of Delight, a Satyre standing bye
Gaue it a kyss, as it lyke Sweete had bene.
Feelinge forthewithe the other's burninge powre,
Wood withe the smarte, with shoutes and shreakinge shrill,
He soughte his ease in river, feilde and bowre,
But for the tyme his griefe wente with him still.
So seelye I, with that unwonted syghte
In humane shape, an angell from above,
Feedinge mine eyes, th'impressione there did lyghte,
That since I reste and runn as pleaseth Love.
The difference is, the Satyre's lypps, my harte,--
He for a tyme, I evermore,--have smarte.
Finis.
poem by Sir Edward Dyer
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Mart. Lib. I. Epi. 14.
MART. LIB. I. EPI. 14.
Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Paeto,
Quem de visceribus traxerat ipsa suis;
Si qua fides, vulnus quod feci non dolet, inquit:
Sed quod tu facies, hoc mihi, Paete, dolet.
ENGLISHED.
When brave chast Arria to her Poetus gave
The sword from her own breast did bleeding wave:
If there be faith, this wound smarts not, said she;
But what you'l make, ah, that will murder me.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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On the Flight of Time
Horace: Book I, Ode 2
"Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, quem, mihi, quem tibi"
AD LEUCONOEN
Look not, Leuconoë, into the future;
Seek not to find what the answer may be;
Let no Chaldean clairvoyant compute your
Time of existence. . . . It irritates me!
Better to bear whatever may happen soever
Patiently, playing it through like a sport,
Whether the end of your breathing is Never,
Or, as is likely, your time will be short.
This is the angle, the true situation;
Get me, I pray, for I'm putting you hep:
While I've been fooling with versification
Time has been flying. . . . Both gates!
Watch your step!
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Le Satyre Et La Flute
Toi, de Mopsus ami! Non loin de Bérécynthe,
Certain satyre, un jour, trouva la flûte sainte
Dont Hyagnis calmait ou rendait furieux
Le cortège énervé de la mère des dieux.
Il appelle aussitôt du Sangar au Méandre
Les nymphes de l'Asie, et leur dit de l'entendre;
Que tout l'art d'Hyagnis n'était que dans ce bui;
Qu'il a, grâce au destin, des doigts tout comme lui.
On s'assied. Le voilà qui se travaille et sue,
Souffle, agite ses doigts, tord sa lèvre touffue,
Enfle sa joue épaisse, et fait tant qu'à la fin
Le buis résonne et pousse un cri rauque et chagrin.
L'auditoire étonné se lève, non sans rire,
Les éloges railleurs fondent sur le satyre,
Qui pleure, et des chiens même, en fuyant vers le bois,
Évite comme il peut les dents et les abois.
poem by Andre Marie de Chenier
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The Jealous Gods
Oh life is wonderful,' she said,
'And all my world is bright;
Can Paradise show fairer skies,
Or more effulgent light?'
(Speak lower, lower, mortal heart,
The jealous gods may hear.)
She turned for answer; but his gaze
Cut past her like a lance,
And shone like flame on one who came
With radiant glance for glance.
(You spoke too loud, O mortal heart,
The jealous gods were near.)
They walked through green and sunlit ways;
And yet the earth seemed black,
For there were three, where two should be;
So runs the world, alack.
(The listening gods, the jealous gods,
They want no Edens here.)
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Fifth Ode Of Horace. Lib. I
Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa
Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the
Latin Measure, as near as the Language permit.
WHAT slender Youth bedew'd with liquid odours
Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave,
Pyrrha for whom bind'st thou
In wreaths thy golden Hair,
Plain in thy neatness; O how oft shall he
On Faith and changed Gods complain: and Seas
Rough with black winds and storms
Unwonted shall admire:
Who now enjoyes thee credulous, all Gold,
Who alwayes vacant, alwayes amiable
Hopes thee; of flattering gales
Unmindfull. Hapless they
To whom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Me in my vow'd
Picture the sacred wall declares t' have hung
My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of Sea.
[The Latin text follows.]
poem by John Milton
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Those Old Black And Whites
'Mom, why do you watch those black and white movies?
They're part of our history, Son.
Mom, what do you get out of those boring old movies?
Memories for a lifetime, Son.
Mom, all those people are dead!
But they really knew how to live then, Son.
Mom, they're so old-fashioned!
Yes, Son, I guess I am.'
poem by Pene Burkey
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Cheer Up! Young Man!
Macte animo!
Generose puer sic itur ad astra!
cheer up
young man
do not grieve
there is a way
to the heavens,
here
it is inside
the heart
a pure heart
that sees
the true
face of God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The best way of travel, however, if you aren't in any hurry at all, if you don't care where you are going, if you don't like to use your legs, if you don't want to be annoyed at all by any choice of directions, is in a balloon. In a balloon, you can decide only when to start, and usually when to stop. The rest is left entirely to nature.
quote by William Sherman Pene du Bois
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Image
I would like to see my Father again,
And have him help recall those memories
Of when he would sit down and sing to me,
Tell me tales enough to fill diaries.
Daddy was tall with a build to beware,
But those hands they held me so tenderly.
Of his hair I remember there never was much,
But had skin that was fair and eyes blue as the sea.
While his discipline was carried out by mere words,
I would tremble with fear thinking his love I'd lost.
I only remember Daddy spanking me once,
To him my stealing a dime was a holocaust!
Whenever I think of my Dad I am saddened,
Because now I can't share all my moments with him.
I would like to know that some way he is with me,
Always near and enjoying my life to the brim.
poem by Pene Burkey
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The Morning Breaks Out
the morning breaks out in beauty
and I say hello to the storms
to the clouds and the blue
to the shore to the sea
the morning breaks out in love
and I say hello to the hearts
to the faces and the smiles
to the hands and to the eyes
the morning breaks out in wonder
and I say hello to the child
to the young to the old
to the living and the dead
the morning breaks out in hope
and I say hello to the horizon line
drawing the instinct pre-nature soul
within whose wisdom I'll daily dwell
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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To His Serving Boy
Persicos odi
Puer, apparatus;
Displicent nexae
Philyra coronae:
Mitte sectari,
Rosa qua locorum
Sera moretur.
Simplici myrto
Nihil allabores
Sedulus, curo:
Neque te ministrum
Dedecet myrtus,
Neque me sub arcta
Vite bibentem.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Afer Ventus
Mare nubrium. umbriel.
Mare imbrium. ariel.
Et itur ad astra.
Et itur ad astra.
Mare undarum. io. vela.
Mirabile dictu. mirabilia.
Mirabile visu. mirabilia.
Et itur ad astra.
Et itur ad astra.
Sempervirent. rosetum.
Afer ventus. zephryus.
Volturnus. africus.
Et itur ad astra.
Et itur ad astra.
Etesiarum. eurus.
Running verse:
Suus cuique mos. suum quique.
Meus mihi, suus cuique carus.
Memento, terrigena.
Memento, vita brevis.
Meus mihi, suus cuique carus.
, , ,
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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