Wow. Always hated Horace (and, like Byron, thought it my fault). Has there ever been a good "state" poet? Maybe Frost, who at least kept it ambiguous.
Here's Shakespeare's gloss (put in the ironic mouth of Julius Caesar):
“Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.” (Indeed)
Which I've always thought pretty good advice, especially when darting across four lanes of speeding traffic.
Thanks for reminding us of the great Shakespeare quote. And the last line of your comment made me guffaw just now...
Do you know "The War Song of Dinas Vawr" by Thomas Love Peacock? The only "fun" war poem I know:
The mountain sheep are sweeter,
But the valley sheep are fatter;
We therefore deemed it meeter
To carry off the latter.
We made an expedition;
We met a host, and quelled it;
We forced a strong position,
And killed the men who held it.
On Dyfed's richest valley,
Where herds of kine were browsing,
We made a mighty sally,
To furnish our carousing.
Fierce warriors rushed to meet us;
We met them, and o'erthrew them:
They struggled hard to beat us;
But we conquered them, and slew them.
As we drove our prize at leisure,
The king marched forth to catch us:
His rage surpassed all measure,
But his people could not match us.
He fled to his hall-pillars;
And, ere our force we led off,
Some sacked his house and cellars,
While others cut his head off.
We there, in strife bewild'ring,
Spilt blood enough to swim in:
We orphaned many children,
And widowed many women.
The eagles and the ravens
We glutted with our foemen;
The heroes and the cravens,
The spearmen and the bowmen.
We brought away from battle,
And much their land bemoaned them,
Two thousand head of cattle,
And the head of him who owned them:
Ednyfed, king of Dyfed,
His head was borne before us;
His wine and beasts supplied our feasts,
And his overthrow, our chorus.
Lol. As for Horace, loosely translated: "Sweet and neat to be your country's meat."
Some great truths in Shakespearean writing!
Coupled with interesting translation of Latin text Greg... Sundays reads are always amazing, thanks!!
Gratias tibi!
Latin
Bene sum gratias tibi!
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Wow. Always hated Horace (and, like Byron, thought it my fault). Has there ever been a good "state" poet? Maybe Frost, who at least kept it ambiguous.
Here's Shakespeare's gloss (put in the ironic mouth of Julius Caesar):
“Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
It seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end,
Will come when it will come.” (Indeed)
Which I've always thought pretty good advice, especially when darting across four lanes of speeding traffic.
Thanks for reminding us of the great Shakespeare quote. And the last line of your comment made me guffaw just now...
Do you know "The War Song of Dinas Vawr" by Thomas Love Peacock? The only "fun" war poem I know:
The mountain sheep are sweeter,
But the valley sheep are fatter;
We therefore deemed it meeter
To carry off the latter.
We made an expedition;
We met a host, and quelled it;
We forced a strong position,
And killed the men who held it.
On Dyfed's richest valley,
Where herds of kine were browsing,
We made a mighty sally,
To furnish our carousing.
Fierce warriors rushed to meet us;
We met them, and o'erthrew them:
They struggled hard to beat us;
But we conquered them, and slew them.
As we drove our prize at leisure,
The king marched forth to catch us:
His rage surpassed all measure,
But his people could not match us.
He fled to his hall-pillars;
And, ere our force we led off,
Some sacked his house and cellars,
While others cut his head off.
We there, in strife bewild'ring,
Spilt blood enough to swim in:
We orphaned many children,
And widowed many women.
The eagles and the ravens
We glutted with our foemen;
The heroes and the cravens,
The spearmen and the bowmen.
We brought away from battle,
And much their land bemoaned them,
Two thousand head of cattle,
And the head of him who owned them:
Ednyfed, king of Dyfed,
His head was borne before us;
His wine and beasts supplied our feasts,
And his overthrow, our chorus.
Lol. As for Horace, loosely translated: "Sweet and neat to be your country's meat."
Some great truths in Shakespearean writing!
Coupled with interesting translation of Latin text Greg... Sundays reads are always amazing, thanks!!
Gratias tibi!
Latin
Bene sum gratias tibi!