Minerva: Volume 1 Issue 1 by MINERVA

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Foreword “Where are you from?” is one of the first questions we are asked when we meet somebody. Sometimes the answer is very simple: from Ireland, the UK. Yet, that simple answer often hides a complicated relationship with the country of our origin: for example, we might come from the UK but identify more with Europe than with Britain, or we might come from, say, the US, but feel more welcome in the country that we have chosen as our new home. We wanted to explore that complicated relationship which people have with the place they call home, and for that reason asked for contributions relating to that theme. The answers were more varied than we expected. Besides a monologue of a home-infesting parasite, we received a speech of a mother grieving for the son; a letter from an exiled husband longing for his wife far away, and a poem praising the beauties of the author’s hometown. Apart from providing some hopefully pleasant reading material, our goal is to show that the Classics are far from being ossified texts written by people who lived long ago, without any impact on our modern society. Just like we, they felt love and hate, both homesickness and the desire to travel. The world has not changed much over the millennia, and we today can still relate to, and be moved by, sentiments expressed 2000 years ago. Through this issue, we hope to make some small contribution towards breathing new life into a world lost long ago. We would like to thank everyone who helped make this dream of ours come true: the contributors, the assistant editors Alastair Daly, Mnemosyne Rice, Caolán Mac An Aircinn and Harley Cubberley. Our special thanks goes to Prof. Monica Gale, our academic advisor, and last but not least, our friends and family for supporting us all the way. A.M.

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Table of Contents Foreword .............................................................................................................................. 2 Phaedrus, Fabulae 1.2 (Theo Nash) ................................................................................. 6 Tacitus, Agricola 3 (Caolán Mac An Aircinn) .................................................................10 Ovid, Tristia 3.3.13 ff. (Zoë Boland)................................................................................ 12 Epigrams ascribed to Petronius (David Noria) ............................................................... 14 Epitaphs from Ancient Greek: Varied Views of The Homeland (Michael Wolfe) .......... 16 [Arrian], Dedication to the Sphinx (Shane Wallace) ......................................................18 Quintus of Smyrna, Deidamia’s Lament to Her Son Neoptolemus, On the Day of His Departure to Join the Greeks in their Fight at Troy (Kristin Masters) ......................... 20 Domum Reditus, An adaptation of Catullus 31 (David Welch) ..................................... 22 Adam Mickiewicz, Pan Tadeusz: Epilog (Alexandra Madeła) ...................................... 24 Joss Whedon, Home is Serenity (D.H. Haddad) ........................................................... 26 Amicitiae in honorem dudum conceptae, mansurae longum (Henry Bauer).............. 28 Plautus, Captivi 69-87 (Michael Fontaine) ................................................................... 30 Horace, Odes 1.38 (Will Begley) ..................................................................................... 32 Contributors....................................................................................................................... 34

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Edited by Alexandra Madeła and Zoë Boland Cover design by Sana Sanai

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Minerva By Peter Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Neill1 Holding the red pencil before me, with its tattoo emblazoned of the helmet headed goddess, weapon borne, it reminds me of you; rarely meeting any who would use her as a calling card, nor Robert Grave's White Goddess. Now, you are finally becoming more familiar to me. Sentient to the owl and her death swoop, attendant to the ghost still hovering in the boughs of Virgil's elm, Locus to the underworld unending; your traffic in the tools trace stills, momentarily, all speech.

Appeared first in A New Ulster 46 (2016) p.20.

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Phaedrus, Fabulae 1.2 (Theo Nash)

Athenae cum florerent aequis legibus, procax libertas civitatem miscuit frenumque solvit pristinum licentia. Hic conspiratis factionum partibus arcem tyrannus occupat Pisistratus. cum tristem servitutem flerent Attici, (non quia crudelis ille, sed quoniam gravis omnino insuetis), onus et coepissent queri, Aesopus talem tum fabellam rettulit. Ranae vagantes liberis paludibus clamore magno regem petiere a Iove, qui dissolutos mores vi compesceret. Pater deorum risit atque illis dedit parvum tigillum, missum quod subito vadi motu sonoque terruit pavidum genus. Hoc mersum limo cum iaceret diutius, forte una tacite profert e stagno caput et explorato rege cunctas evocat. Illae timore posito certatim adnatant lignumque supera turba petulans insilit. Quod cum inquinassent omni contumelia, alium rogantes regem misere ad Iovem, inutilis quoniam esset qui fuerat datus. Tum misit illis hydrum, qui dente aspero corripere coepit singulas. Frustra necem fugitant inertes, vocem praecludit metus. Furtim igitur dant Mercurio mandata ad Iovem, afflictis ut succurrat. Tunc contra deus: Quia noluistis vestrum ferre inquit bonum, malum perferte. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Vos quoque, o cives, ait, hoc sustinete, maius ne veniat malum.

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Athens had liberty and justice for all But for all this still the people complained. Absolute freedom: too much of a good thing. Enter Pisistratus, aspiring tyrant: With his followers he took the Acropolis. This the Athenians could not stand â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Not that he was cruel â&#x20AC;&#x201C; But he was in charge, not they, A frustrating novelty. Aesop, though, heard them complaining, And told, as he did, a fable: The frogs, free in their swamp Petitioned from Jove a king Who could MAKE THE SWAMP GREAT AGAIN The father of the gods laughed, and hurled A small log Which splashed down with sound and fury And terrified the timid race. At length it sank into the mud And one of the frogs In subtle silent curiosity Pushed his head above the water And saw but a muddy log; So he summoned his tribe to their so-called king. Abandoning their fear, indignant, They swam up to the timber, And petulantly leapt aboard. Then they befouled it, as only frogs know how And demanded from Zeus Another king! For the one he had sent was really quite useless. He sent a snake instead, Which showed them all How not useless its teeth were Using them to snatch the frogs, one by one. Fruitlessly they fled, Silently they screamed, Dreadfully they died.

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The survivors in secret Sent a message to Jove Seeking surcease of sorrow. But he responded only: â&#x20AC;&#x153;Ye who would not accept your blessings Must suffer now your curse.â&#x20AC;? And you too, dear reader: Endure things as they are Lest all that you make greater Are your sufferings.

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Tacitus, Agricola 3 (CaolĂĄn Mac An Aircinn)

Nunc demum redit animus; et, quamquam primo statim beatissimi saeculi ortu Nerva Caesar res olim dissociabiles miscueritâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;principatum ac libertatemâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;augeatque cotidie felicitatem temporum Nerva Traianus, nec spem modo ac votum securitas publica, sed ipsius voti fiduciam ac robur aetas suaserit, natura tamen infirmitatis humanae tardiora sunt remedia quam mala; et, ut corpora nostra lente augescunt, cito extinguuntur, sic ingenia studiaque oppresseris facilius quam revocaveris: subit quippe etiam ipsius inertiae dulcedo, et invisa primo desidia postremo amatur. Quid si per quindecim annos, grande mortalis aevi spatium, multi fortuitis casibus, promptissimus quisque saevitia principis interciderunt, pauci et (ut ita dixerim) non modo aliorum sed etiam nostri superstites sumus, exemptis e media vita tot annis, quibus iuvenes ad senectutem, senes prope ad ipsos exactae aetatis terminos per silentium venimus? Non tamen pigebit vel incondita ac rudi voce memoriam prioris servitutis ac testimonium praesentium bonorum composuisse. Hic interim liber, honori Agricolae soceri mei destinatus, professione pietatis aut laudatus erit aut excusatus.

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Anois, ar deireadh, tá spiorad na litríochta fillte orainn. Chumasc Séasar Nerva dhá rud, um thosach a ré órga, nach gceapfá a bhféadfaí iad a chumaisc—‘sé sin le rá, an t-Impireacht agus saoirse daonna—agus cuireann Tráián, mac Nerva, go laethúil leis an sonas sin. Ní amháin go dtugann sábháilteacht an phobail misneach dár n-aislingíocht, ach tugann an aois nua seo muinín dúinn go n-éireoidh leis na h-aislingí sin, cé gurb í nádúr laigeacht an duine go dtagann biseach níos moille ná mar a dtagann tinneas. Cé gurb go mall ar fad a dtagann forbairt ar ár gcoirp, is go tapaidh a scriostar iad, agus, os rud é sin, cuirtear an bhua ‘s an ghrá don litríocht faoi chois níos éascaí ná mar a fhilleann siad: de bharr go mbíonn an leisciúlacht malltach go maith, agus de bharr go dtagann na daoine isteach air an leisciúlacht ar ball, cé go mbíonn gráin acu air ar an gcéad lá riamh. Cad is féidir a dhéanamh, mar sin, ar feadh cúig bliana déag— mórán ama don té a bhásfar—dár maraíodh an-chuid daoine de dheasca an mhí-áidh, agus a thoilteanaí dóibh siúd mar gheall ar bhuile an t-Impire ? Cad is féidir a dhéanamh munar tháinig ach duine nó beirt dos na fir liteartha slán, ní amháin ó dhaoine eile, ach fiú amháin (más féidir liom seo a rá) óna chéile? Tamall de bhlianta b’iad sin a baineadh ó lár ár saol, inti a dhruid na hógánaigh inár measc leis an aostacht agus inti a dhruid na seanóirí inár measc le deireadh a saoil, ach go ciúin. Fós féin ní chuirfidh sé náire orm cuimhne daoirseacht níos luaithe, ‘s an fhianaise atá ann ar fhir mhaithe, a chuir le páipéar, fiú má dhéanaimse go garbh is go h-amh é. Mar sin, níl ann don leabhar meánach seo, ar scríobhadh ar son onóir Agricola, athair m’bheansa, ach go maíofar é ar son a dílseacht don fear sin, nó go maithítear é ar son a laigeachtaí.

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Ovid, Tristia 3.3.13 ff. (ZoĂŤ Boland)

Lassus in extremis iaceo populisque locisque, et subit adfecto nunc mihi, quicquid abest. Omnia cum subeant, vincis tamen omnia, coniunx, et plus in nostro pectore parte tenes. Te loquor absentem, te vox mea nominat unam; nulla venit sine te nox mihi, nulla dies. Quin etiam sic me dicunt aliena locutum, ut foret amenti nomen in ore tuum. Sit iam deficiens suppressaque lingua palato vix instillato restituenda mero, nuntiet huc aliquis dominam venisse, resurgam, spesque tui nobis causa vigoris erit. Ergo ego sum dubius vitae, tu forsitan istic iucundum nostri nescia tempus agis? Non agis, adfirmo. Liquet hoc, carissima, nobis, tempus agi sine me non nisi triste tibi.

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Weary at world’s end I lie, prey to the ghosts of memory, Shades of my past come flooding round, to sink a man who’s all but drowned. All crash and swell, but none so high, as you, the apple of my eye. Bereft of almost all I owned, the mass of my heart is yours alone. I speak to you from this prison mine, the only named in these poor lines, For I can’t spend one day nor night, without you in my inner sight. As I raved on with words unclear, they say they heard your name, my dear. And were I deprived of sound and speech, beyond sweet wine’s restoring reach, Still, at your coming I would rise, strengthened by hope which my state denies. Yet while I pass a lonely life, do you spend hours free from strife? Uncertain life I wile away, as you forget me day by day. No! I know this much is true- to be apart must hurt you too.

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Epigrams ascribed to Petronius (David Noria)

Anthologia Latina 469 Linque tuas sedes alienaque litora quaere, o iuvenis: maior rerum tibi nascitur ordo. Ne succumbe malis: te noverit ultimus Hister, te Boreas gelidus securaque regna Canopi, quique renascentem Phoebum cernuntque cadentem: maior in externas fit qui descendit harenas. Anthologia Latina 464 Inveniet quod quisque velit: non omnibus unum est quod placet: hic spinas colligit, ille rosas.

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POEMA DEL VIAJE Joven, deja tu casa y persigue otras costas: está naciendo para ti un gran ciclo de cosas. Que no te abata el mal. Te conocerá el Oriente y el gélido Norte y el Egipto caliente, quien ve al sol puesto y quien lo ve despuntar apenas. Se hace más grande aquel que pisa nuevas arenas.

ENTRE GUSTOS… Dijo el latino Petronio en su era: “Encontrará cada quien lo que quiera mas, no a todos gustan mismas cosas: éste coge la espina, aquél las rosas”.

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Epitaphs from Ancient Greek: Varied Views of The Homeland (Michael Wolfe)

ΑΔΗΛΟΝ (Anthologia Graeca 10.3) Εἰς ἀΐδην ἰθεῖα κατήλυσις, εἴτ᾿ ἀπ᾿ Ἀθηνῶν στείχοις, εἴτε νέκυς νίσεαι ἐκ Μερόης. μὴ σέ γ᾿ ἀνιάτω πάτρης ἀποτῆλε θανόντα· πάντοθεν εἷς ὁ φέρων εἰς ἀΐδην ἄνεμος. ΣΙΜΩΝΙΔΟΥ (Anthologia Graeca 7.677) Μνῆμα τόδε κλεινοῖο Μεγιστία, ὅν ποτε Μῆδοι Σπερχειὸν ποταμὸν κτεῖναν ἀμειψάμενοι, μάντιος, ὃς τότε κῆρας ἐπερχομένας σάφα εἰδὼς οὐκ ἔτλη Σπάρτης ἡγεμόνας προλιπεῖν. ΑΔΗΛΟΝ (Friedländer-Hoffleit 135) [Εἴτ'ἀστό]ς τις ἀνὴρ εἴτε ξένος ἄλ(λ)λοθεν ἐλθών Τέ(τ)τιχον οἰκτίρας ἄνδρ' ἀγαθὸν παρίτω ἐν πολέμωι φθίμενον, νεαρὰν ἥβην ὀλέσαντα· ταῦτ' ἀποδυράμενοι νεῖσθε ἐπὶ πρᾶγμ' ἀγαθόν.

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Anonymous The way to the underworld is straight, Whether you start from Athens or Meroe Don’t worry about dying far from home. One wind blows from every quarter Right to the land of the dead. Simonides 6th Century BCE This is the tomb of Megistias, Slain by the Medes at Thermopylae. Famous prophet, he knew what was coming. Still, he wouldn’t leave the Spartan side.

Anonymous Whether you come from here or not, Pity Tettichos as you pass— A man of valour cut down in action, Robbed of youth on the battlefield. Mourn him a minute. Then get busy doing something good.

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[Arrian], Dedication to the Sphinx (Shane Wallace)

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The eternal gods fashioned your wonderful body, Sparing a land overcome by fire, directing you to the middle of a rough plinth, having thrust away the sand from your rocky island. As a neighbour to the pyramids, so they made you to be beheld not like that murderous Sphinx slain by Oedipus, as in Thebes, but a most holy servant to the goddess Leto, who looks out for the longed for, noble Osiris, the august leader of the land of Egypt, Arrian

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Quintus of Smyrna, Deidamia’s Lament to Her Son Neoptolemus, On the Day of His Departure to Join the Greeks in their Fight at Troy (Kristin Masters) (Quintus of Smyrna 7.262-282; 7.335-340; from the Latin translation by Pauw and Dausque)2

Fili, quo tibi nunc sana mens avolavit, ut hospites ad lacrimosum Ilion comitari velis? Ubi infelici proelio multi salutis iacturam fecerunt, quamvis bellum et taetrum conflictum edocti. Tu vero adhuc adolescens es, nec dum res bellicas nosti, quae exitialem ab hominibus diem propulsant. Quare tu mihi auscultato, tuisque in aedibus maneto: Ne funestum mihi a Troia nuntium aures feriat, te in acie exstinctum esse. Nec enim animus praesagit, te huc reverturum esse superstitem a bello. Nec enim ipse tuus parens exitiosam effugit pestem: Sed in certamine occubuit, qui te et alios heroas longe antecellebat, et Dea matre natus erat; idque horum dolo et consiliis; qui te quoque luctificum bellum adire urgent. Ideo ego trepido et anxio corde metuo ne mihi te, fili, exstincto contingat, ut orba relicta indignissimas perpetiar calamitates. Non enim umquam peior feminae luctus accidit, quam si liberi intereunt, mortuo etiam marito, et funesta nece domus viduatur. (...) Sic illius causa plorat Deidamia; ac modo filii lecto circumfusa, alta voce lamentatur, modo flet at postes, caroque imponit gremio, si quod in domo ludicrum restat, quo magnum in tenella aetate pectus oblectaverat.

Τέκνον, πῇ δὴ νῦν σοὶ ἐὺς νόος ἐκπεπότηται, Ἴλιον ἐς πολύδακρυ μετὰ ξείνοισιν ἕπεσθαι, ἧχι πολεῖς ὀλέκονται ὑπ’ ἀργαλέης ὑσμίνης, καί περ ἐπιστάμενοι πόλεμον καὶ ἀεικέα χάρμην; Νῦν δὲ σὺ μὲν νέος ἐσσὶ καὶ οὔ πω δήια ἔργα οἶδας ἅ τ’ ἀνθρώποισιν ἀλάλκουσιν κακὸν ἦμαρ. Ἀλλὰ σὺ μέν μευ ἄκουσον, ἑοῖς δ’ ἐνὶ μίμνε δόμοισι, μὴ δή μοι Τροίηθε κακὴ φάτις οὔαθ’ ἵκηται σεῖο καταφθιμένοιο κατὰ μόθον. Οὐ γὰρ ὀίω ἐλθέμεναί σ’ ἔτι δεῦρο μετάτροπον ἐξ ὁμάδοιο· οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ πατὴρ τεὸς ἔκφυγε κῆρ’ ἀίδηλον, ἀλλ’ ἐδάμη κατὰ δῆριν, ὅ περ καὶ σεῖο καὶ ἄλλων ἡρώων προφέρεσκε, θεὰ δέ οἱ ἔπλετο μήτηρ, τῶνδε δολοφροσύνῃ καὶ μήδεσιν, οἳ σὲ καὶ αὐτὸν δῆριν ἐπὶ στονόεσσαν ἐποτρύνουσι νέεσθαι. Τοὔνεκ’ ἐγὼ δείδοικα περὶ κραδίῃ τρομέουσα, μή μοι καὶ σέο, τέκνον, ἀποφθιμένοιο πέληται εὖνιν καλλειφθεῖσαν ἀεικέα πήματα πάσχειν· οὐ γάρ πώ τι γυναικὶ κακώτερον ἄλγος ἔπεισιν ἢ ὅτε παῖδες ὄλωνται ἀποφθιμένοιο καὶ ἀνδρός, χηρωθῇ δὲ μέλαθρον ὑπ’ ἀργαλέου θανάτοιο. (...) ὣς ἄρα κεδνὴ μύρετο Δηιδάμεια, καὶ υἱέος ἄλλοτε μέν που εὐνὴν ἀμφιχυθεῖσα μέγ’ ἴαχεν, ἄλλοτε δ’ αὖτε κλαῖεν ἐπὶ φλιῇσι. Φίλῳ δ’ ἐγκάτθετο κόλπῳ, εἴ τί οἱ ἐν μεγάροισι τετυγμένον ἦεν ἄθυρμα ᾧ ἔπι τυτθὸς ἐὼν ἀταλὰς φρένας ἰαίνεσκεν.

Dausque, C. and Pauw, J.C., Praetermissorum ab Homero Libri XIV Graece (Leiden, 1734).

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“Son, where has your common sense gone? You wish to join your guests to ill-fated Ilium, where men more experienced than you have met their death in unhappy battle? You are still a child, you do not yet know the art of war that keeps men from their doom! “Listen to me, and stay here at home: I can’t bear to hear that you’ve died in battle. For I don’t think that you can return home alive from war. Your father Achilles could not avoid the plague of war: although he was a demigod, and surpassed you and all others on the field, he fell in battle. He died because of the plots and treachery of the men before you, these same men who are now urging you to fight this devastating war. “My whole heart races in fear! Don’t make me suffer the death of a son; don’t leave me alone, bereft and abandoned; don’t let me endure such terrible calamity. For no greater grief can occur to a woman than when her child perishes, and her husband has also passed. Her home, too, is widowed by such horrid death.” *** …Thus Deidamia mourns for her son. At first, she throws herself upon his bed, weeping loudly; then she clings to the bedposts, holding in her lap whatever toys he’d left behind, the things that had delighted his heart in his tender youth…

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Domum Reditus, An adaptation of Catullus 31 (David Welch)

Paene insularum, Sirmio, insularumque ocelle, quascumque in liquentibus stagnis marique vasto fert uterque Neptunus, quam te libenter quamque laetus inviso, vix mi ipse credens Thyniam atque Bithynos liquisse campos et videre te in tuto! o quid solutis est beatius curis, cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum desideratoque adquiescimus lecto? hoc est quod unum est pro laboribus tantis. salve, o venusta Sirmio, atque ero gaude gaudente; vosque, o Lydiae lacus undae; ridete quidquid est domi cachinnorum.

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Semi-oppidorum, Saltus3, oppidorumque ocelle, quaecumque in patentibus fundis arvisque fetis fert Ceres, potens frugum, te quamque gratum quamque laetus inviso vix mi ipse credens Kansiam atque Texanos liquisse campos et videre te rursum! o nil amicis dulcius vetustis est, cum mens onus reponit ac peregrino labore fessi venimus domum tandem et nostros sodales visitamus optatos. hoc est quod unum est pro laboribus tantis. salve o venuste Saltus ac viro gaude gaudente. vos quoque, o meae plateae urbis, ridete quidquid est domi cacchinorum.

The name of my hometown is â&#x20AC;&#x153;Woodlandâ&#x20AC;?.

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Adam Mickiewicz, Pan Tadeusz: Epilog (Alexandra Madeła)

Dziś dla nas, w świecie nieproszonych gości, W całej przeszłości i w całej przyszłości Jedna już tylko jest kraina taka, W której jest trochę szczęścia dla Polaka: Kraj lat dziecinnych! On zawsze zostanie Święty i czysty jak pierwsze kochanie, Nie zaburzony błędów przypomnieniem, Nie podkopany nadziei złudzeniem Ani zmieniony wypadków strumieniem. Gdziem rzadko płakał, a nigdy nie zgrzytał, Te kraje rad bym myślami powitał: Kraje dzieciństwa, gdzie człowiek po świecie Biegł jak po łące, a znał tylko kwiecie Miłe i piękne, jadowite rzucił, Ku pożytecznym oka nie odwrócił.

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Temporibus nostris, quis vilius hospite nil est (hesternoque atque ut crastina lux veniet) una manet sedes qua felicem esse Polono mi liceat sola: patria quae pueros nos aluit; semperque in perpetuumque manebit aeque ut primus amor puraque sanctaque â&#x20AC;&#x201C; a! huius nec vitium memoror nec fallere possit spem neque mutata est fluctibus assiduis rerum; ubi non fudi lacrimas ac frendere numquam sum solitus, terras visere eas libeat mente mea, terras iuveni qua currere pratis mi libuit, flores magnifice nitidos carpens; nulla venena tuli nec quidque videtur utile dignatus sum semel aspicere.

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Joss Whedon, Home is Serenity (D.H. Haddad)

Take my love, take my land Take me where I cannot stand I don't care, I'm still free You can't take the sky from me. Take me out to the black Tell them I ain't coming back Burn the land and boil the sea You can't take the sky from me. There's no place I can be Since I've found Serenity But you can't take the sky from me.

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Tollas amores, terram meam, Portes quo non stare possim. Flocci non facio. Liber adhuc sum. Tollere non potes caelum. Auferas me ad chaos nigrum. Praedicas non rediturum. Ardeant terrae, maria ferveant. Tollere non potes caelum. Nullus est locus alius ubi esse malim, quoniam inveni Serenitatem. Tollere non potes caelum.

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Amicitiae in honorem dudum conceptae, mansurae longum (Henry Bauer)

Poculum rhoit’ impletum sicut Labiis renidentibus exhaustum Tempore amoenissimo transacto Res coartata. Ita iam post peractam annua vic’ Ipsum mess’ apyrenum Judaeum est Defloratum, flammeolo fragili Bruma direpto. Sparsa diu semina atrum matris In telluris ventrem furtimque imbres Alunt, ipsum exsurgend’ ex latebris Caelo favente. Sive Deo nostr’ animorum sive Fatis condita in obscuritate Hac quidem vicissim necessitate, Bene evenit. Temporum in proximitatem’st modus Nostram, cuius perfructi sumus nuper Largitat’ abundantiaq’ ignota Nobis seorsis, Donec nos convenimus hac in urbe Mirandarum, cum peregrinis--mirum Quam turmatim congregat’ erant--et Viis concretis, Flosculus amicitiae sermone, Animis, ac mentibus plen’ est pastus. Tum est amnis sententiarum ortus: Loquar praecise. Rerum quas feliciter Romae gessi, Multo maxim‘ existumavi florem Coluiss’ amicitiae in annos, Utroque fovente.

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Plautus, Captivi 69-87 (Michael Fontaine)

Ergasilus parasitus delivers an entrance monologue: Iuventus nomen indidit Scorto mihi, eo quia invocatus soleo esse in convivio. scio absurde dictum hoc derisores dicere, at ego aio recte. nam scortum in convivio sibi amator, talos quom iacit, scortum invocat. estne invocatum an non <est? est> planissume; verum hercle vero nos parasiti planius, quos numquam quisquam neque vocat neque invocat. quasi mures semper edimus alienum cibum; ubi res prolatae sunt, quom rus homines eunt, simul prolatae res sunt nostris dentibus. quasi, cum caletur, cocleae in occulto latent, suo sibi suco vivont, ros si non cadit, item parasiti rebus prolatis latent in occulto miseri, victitant suco suo, dum ruri rorant homines quos ligurriant. prolatis rebus parasiti venatici sumus, quando res redierunt, molossici odiosicique et multum incommodestici.

Issue I

MINERVA

Issue I

[ERGASILUS, the errand boy, enters from the town.] ERGASILUS: My name—I mean, the nickname the guys gave me—is Whore. Why? Because my ego’s impregnable: I’m always showing up to dinner uninvited. (grins) I know, I know, the jokesters say it’s (grins wider)… fellatious4, absurd. But I see their point. When a man’s at a party, gambling, feeling randy, too, he’s got to worry that the whore blowing him…a kiss—that his whore, you see (cracking himself up)—well, that she’s impregnable. I ask you, then: A whore is “impregnable,” isn’t she? Of course she is!5 But good grief, it’s all too plain that we spongers—since no one ever wants us, not even once—well, that like mice, we’re always eating someone else’s food. When a vacation comes and everybody leaves town, then our teeth have to go on vacation too. The same way snails in the hot season hide in their shells, living on their own juice for lack of dew— so do poor spongers, on vacation time, have to creep into their holes and live off their own juice, while the people they’d like to batten on are glistening out at their country houses. During vacation, we spongers are dogs—we’re (grinning) Peek-in-ese; but when business starts up again, we become (cracking up) Have-a-nese—we make people very uneasy.6

The Latin pun is on ab sorde dictum, “comes from nastiness (lit. dirty, sordid behavior),” and absurde dictum, “bestowed ironically, incongruous, far-fetched.” Hence the English pun on fallacious and fellatious. 5 The Latin pun is on invocatus, “uninvited, unwanted” and invocatus, “called on.” Ergasilus “whores” himself out for a free meal by telling jokes instead of contributing food to a dinner, but he plays on the racier connotations of the metaphor. 6 Because the Latin word Molossici (Molossian hunting dogs) looks like a synonym of molesti (annoying), Ergasilus makes up the words odiosici and incommodestici. Both words also mean “annoying” but look as if they were names of dog breeds.

MINERVA

Horace, Odes 1.38 (Will Begley)

Persicos odi, puer, apparatus, displicent nexae philyra coronae, mitte sectari, rosa quo locorum sera moretur. Simplici myrto nihil adlabores sedulus, curo: neque te ministrum dedecet myrtus neque me sub arta uite bibentem.

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MINERVA

Man, this JumboTron shit, these multimillionaire short relievers, never’ll do it for me. To resort football-like to this slackjawed gaping spectacle won’t bring Joe DiMaggio back again, man, so don’t bother. Give me an eager P.A. guy, beer, and a nineframe International Leaguer, and that’ll be fine.

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MINERVA

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Contributors Henry Bauer: I was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, also the birthplace of the famous Papal Latinist Fr. Reginald Foster, with whom I had the privilege of studying at the age of 18 after graduating from Marquette University High School. In the summer of 2016 I attended the Paideia Institute's Living Latin in Rome program, which is led by former Foster students, where I read a great deal of Horace and composed this poem for a friend. I am currently a sophomore at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Will Begley grew up in Vermont and currently teaches Latin in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Zoë Boland is a final year Classics undergraduate at Trinity College Dublin, and an occasional but enthusiastic poet. In the past, she has published prose translations as well as her own poetry, but this is her first serious effort at verse translation. As such, she asks you not to judge her too harshly. Michael Fontaine is an associate professor of Classics and associate dean of the faculty at Cornell University, where he teaches courses on Latin literature and Roman society. Beyond Cornell, he is the associate editor for Latin literature at Classical World, an editorial board member of Eidolon, and an advisory board member of The Paideia Institute. D.H. Haddad discipulus graduatus in Universitate Californiensi apud Santam Barbaram est. Ambulando longissime in litore sole occidente atque perbona uva vini Californiensis fruitur. Fear léinn sna clasaicí é Caolán Mac An Aircinn is mó a bhfuil dúil aige i scríobhnóireacht an Chré-Umhaois Ghréigeach. Ach tá an-suim aige sa Laidin, sa Ghaeilge, agus ins an bhealach a d'imir na sibhialtachtaí Rómhánacha agus Gaelacha ar a chéile, agus is as sin a tháinig an taistriúchán seo den Agricola. Fuair sé a BA ó Choláiste na Tríonóide i 2016 agus tá sé i mbun PhD a bhaint amach ó Ollscoil Texas Austin faoi láthair. Caolán Mac An Aircinn is a classical scholar whose interests lie mostly in Aegean Bronze Age scripts. However, he also has an interest in Latin, in Irish, and in how the Roman and Irish civilisations impacted each other, from which interest this translation of the Agricola derives. He received his BA from TCD in 2016 and is currently working towards his PhD in the University of Texas at Austin. Alexandra Madeła is a PhD candidate at Trinity College Dublin. Apart from Latin composition, her interests include Classical epic, Greek mythology and historical linguistics. Kristin A. Masters (MA '05) is a teacher of Latin at Millville Public Schools and an adjunct professor at Rowan University. She earned her BA in Classics at Dickinson College and has a Masters in Latin from Bryn Mawr GSAS. Her first book, The First Twenty Roman Emperors: Selections from Eutropius Adapted for Beginning Readers of Latin, is available through the American Classical League. Theo Nash: I am a Canadian living in New Zealand, and recently completed my MA in Classics at Victoria University of Wellington, looking at the place of Late Minoan II Knossos in Mycenaean history. I hope to continue my studies at the PhD level in the near future.

MINERVA

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David Noria (born April 21st, 1993, Mexico City), poet, essayist and translator. He studied Classical Literature at the National and Autonomous University of Mexico, and Modern Greek Language at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Greece. Sana Sanai graduated from Trinity College Dublin in 2016 with a degree in English Literature and Classics; she continues to feed her boundless passion for both through her work with Minerva. Shane Wallace: Born in Limerick, I studied for my BA in Classics in Galway and my MA in Dublin (UCD). In 2006 I moved to Edinburgh to pursue a Ph.D. (awarded 2011), during which time I held a Marie Curie research fellowship at the école normale supérieure, Paris, and an Erasmus studentship at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. I returned to Dublin to take up the post of Walsh Family Lecturer at Trinity College Dublin in 2011. I work on the history and epigraphy of the Hellenisitic world, in particular mainland Greece, the Aegean, and western Asia Minor. David Welch is a graduate student in the department of Classics at the University of Texas, Austin. He received his Bachelor's Degree from the University of California, Davis and his Master's Degree from the University of Kansas, during which time he has mainly focused his studies on the Roman historiographical portrayal of the era of transition from the Republic to the Empire. Michael Wolfe: My most recent book publication is Cut These Words into My Stone: Ancient Greek Epitaphs (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013). It was a finalist for the Pen America Best Book of Poetry in Translation Prize, 2014. I have been an Atlantic Monthly Young Poet, a MacDowell Colony resident, a recipient of the Amy Lowell Traveling Poet Scholarship, and an Academy of American Poets Achievement Award. I’ve published a number of books of poetry over the years. For more, see Authors Guild page: http://www.michaelwolfeauthor.com/bio.htm.