Publius Papinius Statius idézet

oldal 2

“The cruelty of war makes for peace.”

“Adrastus is amazed thereat and slow to believe.”
Stupet haec et credere Adrastus cunctatur.

“And snatched sweet grapes from the hills.”
Et dulces rapuit de collibus uvas.

“Tis noble to spare the vanquished.”
Pulchrum vitam donare minori.

“Him did Galatia dare to provoke to war in lusty pride.”
Hunc Galatea vigens ausa est incessere bello.

“More stars fall from the loosened sky.”
Pluraque laxato ceciderunt sidera caelo.

“To stand still is torture; a thousand paces are wasted before the start, the heavy hoof strikes the absent flat.”
Stare adeo miserum est, pereunt vestigia mille ante fugam, absentemque ferit grauis ungula campum.

“Barren are the years behind me. This is the first day of my span, here is the threshold of my life.”
Steriles transmisimus annos: haec aevi mihi prima dies, hic limina vitae.

“Ah! what fury! alas! mankind, alas! dread Promethean skill!”
O furor, o homines diraeque Prometheos artes!

“As a little skiff attached to a great ship, when the storm blows high, takes in her small share of the raging waters and tosses in the same south wind.”
Immensae veluti conexa carinae cumba minor, cum saevit hiems, pro parte furentis parva receptat aquas et eodem volvitur austro.

“A brief reign spares not the folk.”
Non parcit populis regnum breve.

“Sweet semblance of the children who have forsaken me, Archemorus, solace of my lost estate and country, pride of my servitude, what guilty gods took your life, my joy, whom but now in parting I left at play, crushing the grasses as you hastened in your forward crawl? Ah, where is your starry face? Where your words unfinished in constricted sounds, and laughs and gurgles that only I could understand? How often would I talk to you of Lemnos and the Argo and lull you to sleep with my long tale of woe!”
O mihi desertae natorum dulcis imago, Archemore, o rerum et patriae solamen ademptae seruitiique decus, qui te, mea gaudia, sontes extinxere dei, modo quem digressa reliqui lascivum et prono uexantem gramina cursu? heu ubi siderei vultus? ubi verba ligatis imperfecta sonis risusque et murmura soli intellecta mihi? quotiens tibi Lemnon et Argo sueta loqui et longa somnum suadere querela!

“For what cause, youthful Sleep, kindest of gods, or what error have I deserved, alas to lack your boon? All cattle are mute and birds and beasts, and the nodding tree-tops feign weary slumbers, and the raging rivers abate their roar; the ruffling of the waves subsides, the sea is still, leaning against the shore.”
Crimine quo merui, juvenis placidissime divum, quove errore miser, donis ut solus egerem, Somne, tuis? tacet omne pecus volucresque feraeque et simulant fessos curvata cacumina somnos, nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus; occidit horror aequoris, et terris maria adclinata quiescunt.

“Give not rein to your hot mood, give time, a little delay; impulse is ever a bad servant.”
Ne frena animo permitte calenti, da spatium tenuemque moram, male cuncta ministrat impetus.

“May that day perish from Time's record, nor future generations believe it! Let us at least keep silence, and suffer the crimes of our own house to be buried deep in whelming darkness.”
Excidat illa dies aevo nec postera credant saecula. nos certe taceamus et obruta multa nocte tegi propriae patiamur crimina gentis.

“Long time has Thetis been scanning every corner with silent glance.”
Jamdudum tacito lustrat Thetis omnia visu.

“Jupiter, what spoils of war will our gift make yours!”
Juppiter, o quanta belli donabere praeda!

“One in particular, whose warped will it ever was even in the upper world (hence his life ended ill) to insult misfortune and wax sour at prosperity.”
Unus ibi ante alios, cui laeva voluntas semper et ad superos (hinc et gravis exitus aevi) insultare malis rebusque aegrescere laetis.

“Worthiest progeny of heaven.”
Dignissima caeli progenies.

“The sounds of early night die down. Mingled with the darkness of his kinsman Death and dripping with Stygian dew, Sleep enfolds the doomed city, pouring heavy ease from his unforgiving horn, and separates the men.”
Primae decrescunt murmura noctis, cum consanguinei mixtus caligine Leti rore madens Stygio morituram amplectitur urbem Somnus et implacido fundit grauia otia cornu secernitque viros.

“But no clouds in a red sky promised daylight's return, nor in lessening shadows did a long twilight gleam with reflected sun. Black night that no ray can pierce comes ever denser from earth, veiling the heavens.”
Sed nec puniceo rediturum nubila caelo promisere jubar, nec rarescentibus umbris longa repercusso nituere crepuscula Phoebo: densior a terris et nulli peruia flammae subtexit nox atra polos.

“The priest confirmed it not, and my prayer was lost.”
Non ratus ore sacerdos, damnataeque preces.

“Beyond the cloud-wrapt chambers of western gloom and Aethiopia's other realm there stands a motionless grove, impenetrable by any star; beneath it the hollow recesses of a deep and rocky cave run far into a mountain, where the slow hand of Nature has set the halls of lazy Sleep and his untroubled dwelling. The threshold is guarded by shady Quiet and dull Forgetfulness and torpid Sloth with ever drowsy countenance. Ease, and Silence with folded wings sit mute in the forecourt and drive the blustering winds from the roof-top, and forbid the branches to sway, and take away their warblings from the birds. No roar of the sea is here, though all the shores be sounding, nor yet of the sky; the very torrent that runs down the deep valley nigh the cave is silent among the rocks and boulders; by its side are sable herds, and sheep reclining one and all upon the ground; the fresh buds wither, and a breath from the earth makes the grasses sink and fail. Within, glowing Mulciber had carved a thousand likenesses of the god: here wreathed Pleasure clings to his side, here Labour drooping to repose bears him company, here he shares a couch with Bacchus, there with Love, the child of Mars. Further within, in the secret places of the palace he lies with Death also, but that dread image is seen by none. These are but pictures: he himself beneath humid caverns rests upon coverlets heaped with slumbrous flowers, his garments reek, and the cushions are warm with his sluggish body, and above the bed a dark vapour rises from his breathing mouth. One hand holds up the locks that fall from his left temple, from the other drops his neglected horn.”
Stat super occiduae nebulosa cubilia Noctis Aethiopasque alios, nulli penetrabilis astro, lucus iners, subterque cavis graue rupibus antrum it uacuum in montem, qua desidis atria Somni securumque larem segnis Natura locavit. limen opaca Quies et pigra Oblivio servant et numquam vigili torpens Ignauia vultu. Otia vestibulo pressisque Silentia pennis muta sedent abiguntque truces a culmine ventos et ramos errare vetant et murmura demunt alitibus. non hic pelagi, licet omnia clament litora, non ullus caeli fragor; ipse profundis vallibus effugiens speluncae proximus amnis saxa inter scopulosque tacet: nigrantia circum armenta omne solo recubat pecus, et nova marcent germina, terrarumque inclinat spiritus herbas. mille intus simulacra dei caelaverat ardens Mulciber: hic haeret lateri redimita Voluptas, hic comes in requiem vergens Labor, est ubi Baccho, est ubi Martigenae socium puluinar Amori obtinet. interius tecti in penetralibus altis et cum Morte jacet, nullique ea tristis imago cernitur. hae species. ipse autem umentia subter antra soporifero stipatos flore tapetas incubat; exhalant vestes et corpore pigro strata calent, supraque torum niger efflat anhelo ore vapor; manus haec fusos a tempore laevo sustentat crines, haec cornu oblita remisit.

“Whence first arose among unhappy mortals throughout the world that sickly craving for the future? Sent by heaven, wouldst thou call it? Or is it we ourselves, a race insatiable, never content to abide on knowledge gained, that search out the day of our birth and the scene of our life's ending, what the kindly Father of the gods is thinking, or iron-hearted Clotho? Hence comes it that entrails occupy us, and the airy speech of birds, and the moon's numbered seeds, and Thessalia's horrid rites. But that earlier golden age of our forefathers, and the races born of rock or oak were not thus minded; their only passion was to gain the mastery of the woods and the soil by might of hand; it was forbidden to man to know what to-morrow's day would bring. We, a depraved and pitiable crowd, probe deep the counsels of the gods.”
Unde iste per orbem primus venturi miseris animantibus aeger crevit amor? divumne feras hoc munus, an ipsi, gens avida et parto non umquam stare quieti, eruimus quae prima dies, ubi terminus aevi, quid bonus ille deum genitor, quid ferrea Clotho cogitet? hinc fibrae et volucrum per nubila sermo astrorumque vices numerataque semita lunae Thessalicumque nefas. at non prior aureus ille sanguis avum scopulisque satae vel robore gentes mentibus his usae; silvas amor unus humumque edomuisse manu; quid crastina volveret aetas scire nefas homini. nos, pravum et flebile vulgus, scrutati penitus superos.

“Then they invite her to join the dance and approach the holy rites, and make room for her in their ranks and rejoice to be near her. Just as Idalian birds, cleaving the soft clouds and long since gathered in the sky or in their homes, if a strange bird from some distant region has joined them wing to wing, are at first all filled with amaze and fear; then nearer and nearer they fly, and while yet in the air have made him one of them and hover joyfully around with favouring beat of pinions and lead him to their lofty resting-places.”
Dehinc sociare choros castisque accedere sacris hortantur ceduntque loco et contingere gaudent. qualiter Idaliae volucres, ubi mollia frangunt nubila, iam longum caeloque domoque gregatae, si iunxit pinnas diversoque hospita tractu venit avis, cunctae primum mirantur et horrent; mox propius propiusque volant, atque aere in ipso paulatim fecere suam plausuque secundo circumeunt hilares et ad alta cubilia ducunt.

“Dries his wet face with her soft hair.”
Umida siccat mollibus ora comis.

“Blind counsels of the wicked! Crime cowardly ever!”
O caeca nocentum consilia! o semper timidum scelus!

“A cry like the last yell when warring cities are opened up.”
Clamorem, bello supremus apertis urbibus.

“No image is there, to no metal is the divine form entrusted, in hearts and minds does the goddess delight to dwell.”
Nulla autem effigies, nulli commissa metallo forma dei: mentes habitare et pectora gaudet.