Toadfish Monastery

Song of the Furies
Tune: God rest you merry, gentlemen

1.
Arise my sisters Furies
It's time to bring dismay
Orestes of House Atreus
His mother he did slay
It's our sacred duty now
To bring that boy to bay
Refr.

Refr.:
We're the heralds of madness and woe
Madness and woe.
We're the heralds of madness, bale and woe

2.
Tisiphone, Alecto (and)
Megaira we are called
And since time immemorial
Ordained all men/mankind to hold
Responsible for breaches all
Of sacred laws of old
Refr.

3.
To heaven up and Hades down
The spilled blood it does cry
A son broke the maternal bond
Which he cannot deny
A murdered mother's shadow
To that can testify
Refr.

4.
He claims Apollo ordered him
To do this heinous deed
And to the pack of hunting hounds
Aigisthos there to feed
And to the laws of kinship all
To pay no care or heed
Refr.

5.
For him that we are hunting
No rest and no respite
We harass, chase relentlessly
All day and through the night
No god's allowed to expiate
Him who's a matricide
Refr.

6.
Let's dance around the culprit now
With raiséd torch and snake
And howling song of fury
His sanity to break
Until he thinks the only way's
His own life there to take
Refr.

7.
Then down with him to Tartaros
To dash that futile hope
That Death will help a slayer of
His mother to elope
For not in all eternity
With this sin/act/deed one can cope
Refr.

I somehow got the urge again yesterday to do a new song parody.
The creation of Vergil's Aeneid is a topic already discussed in antiquity.
According to tradition he got 'asked' by Augustus to write an epic about the latter's victorious civil war but refused and wrote the Aeneid instead. He left it unfinished and the official story has it that he ordered it destroyed on his deathbed out of misplaced modesty but that Augustus prevented that and thus rescued what should become the Roman national epic. It is unknown how much of the text got altered before publication and whether Augustus had parts removed that he saw as casting a bad light on himself. Still there are some elements that do not neatly fit into a work once interpreted as pure pro-Augustean propaganda. This led to the two-voices theory that Vergil hid his personal criticism (inner voice) of Augustus behind the outward propaganda (public voice).

Vergil's Song
Tune: The Sound of Silence (Simon & Garfunkel)

Oh Camena my old Muse
A subject is for me to choose /A subject I have now to choose
For I am called by the first citizen
To glorify him a new song to sing
And to serve him for his recurring golden age
As seer and sage
To justify the violence

Of man and weapons I shall chant
For his command refuse I can't
But not the spiller of the Roman blood
Will be the hero, although soon a god
And instead I will go back to the ancient past
My work/play/spell to cast
In comely verse set violence

The story of his forebear old
By me and my way shall be told
A new Ulysses but without the brain
A new Achilles who will not get slain
And whose anger in the end will not abate
But full of hate
Will end the tale with violence

Down through the shadows he shall walk
There'll be of past and future talk
(Gains) A promise he'll soar to the skies
But gets dismissed then through the gate of lies
For his mother sees him only as a pawn
Since the new dawn
Will ring in a new/vile age of violence

In tempest waves will up I churn
Abandoned/Thrown-away damsels/ladies also burn
No deity that's not a jerk
Whose mien can barely hide a constant smirk
At the misfortune they throw the(ir) ,,hero" in
To much/his chagrin
There'll be no end to violence

And in between I'll praise my lord
To anger him I can't afford
But still the scrolls I will then set aflame
To clear my conscience and to hide my shame / and my honest name
Create a legend of a masterpiece got lost
It's worth the cost
Within this/an age of violence

August(e)an Postscript:
No my dear friend that cannot be
I can't abide such infamy
What you have written that will stay intact
Although there's reason that I first redact
Some minor errors that somehow crept in
With no chagrin
And dare not call that violence

And don't believe that in thy grave
You'll cease to be my/a humble slve
You would be nothing without my support
Like all the other lackeys at my court
[your feather is subedient to my sharp sword]
But should you doubt, ask Gallus for advice
And play it nice
So I don't have to resort to violence

Vergil's posthumous reply/retort
Ye think, great tyrant, you have won
That your charade it will go on
Once bard and poet will sing praise no more
Of those whose power rests on blood and gore
Avengers from my bones can still arise
They'll end your lies
And you'll sink into silence

And if you need/I hear you want the ending trite
Go find another it to write
I can hear the epigones: "Let me do it!"
But all they'll come up is some kitschy... schlock
Book XIII you can stick right up your... nose
I'm passing gas
Into your rough direction

And here is the German verson of it
(I think the English is better)

1.
Oh Camena, Muse mein
Was soll mein nächstes Thema sein?
Der erste Bürger neuer goldner Zeit
Wünscht von mir Ruhm sich für die Ewigkeit
Ein Seher und Prophet tut ihm noch not
Drum er gebot
Daß ich Gewalt rechtfert'ge

2.
Von Waffen sing ich nun und Mann
Befehl verweigern ich nicht kann
Dem künft'gen Gott und Säufer von röm'schem Blut
Doch ihn als Helden? Nein, das das fänd ich nicht gut
Zur Bühne dien mir der Vorväter Stund
Ich tu euch kund
Gewalt in wohlgesetzten Versen

3.
Die Mär von deinem Ahnen alt
Nimmt an, so wie ich's will, Gestalt
Odysseus II, dem es an Hirn gebricht
Achilleus auch, doch man erschlägt ihn nicht
Und sein Zorn wird auch am Ende nicht gestillt
Von Hass erfüllt
Das Lied geht mit Gewalt zu Ende

4.
Durch Hades' Schatten soll er gehn
Vergangenheit und Zukunft sehn
Bekommt gesagt: ,,Du steigst zum Himmel empor"
Doch wird entlassen durch der Lügen Tor
Denn der Mutter ist er Bauer ganz allein
Des Morgens Schein
Verkündet nur Gewalt ohn' Ende

5.
Im Sturme Wellen ich aufwühl
Erstech Verlassne auf dem Pfühl
Da ist kein Gott, der ist ein Arschloch nicht
Mit schadenfrohem Grinsen (ständig) im Gesicht
Wenn er dem ,,Helden" wieder (mal) die Leviten liest
Was den verdrießt
Und nimmer nimmt Gewalt ein Ende

6.
Und zwischendurch lobhudle ich
Den Herrn zu ärgern geht gar nich'
Doch setz die Rollen ich am Ende in Brand
Für mein Gewissen und zu tilgen die Schand
,,Ein Meisterwerk verloren", sagt die Welt
's ist wert das Geld
In Zeiten, wo Gewalt regieret
 
Augusteische Nachschrift
7.
Nein, mein Freund, das duld ich nie
Das wär Verbrechen, Infamie
Was du geschrieben hast, (das) bleibt bestehn
Doch muss auf Fehler ich es noch durchsehn
Sowas schleicht sich immer ein, das ist zu dumm
Nimm's mir nicht krumm
Wag's nicht Gewalt zu nennen

8.
Wenn du's nicht glaubst, kennst du mich schlecht
Denn selbst im Grab bleibst du mein Knecht
Du wärst ein Nichts, schätzt' ich nicht deine Kunst
Als Schranze  buhlst am Hofe du um meine Gunst
[alt: Du bist ein Nichts und ohne mich nichts wert
Der Feder Meister bleibet doch mein scharfes Schwert]
Und zweifelst du, frag Gallus um Rat nur
Sei nicht so stur
Daß ich Gewalt nicht brauche

Vergils posthume Replik
9.
Du glaubst, Tyrann, der Sieg sei dein
Gewahrt blieb ewig falscher Schein
Doch einst kein Sänger mehr ein Lied anstimmt
Zum Ruhm des Thrones der im Blute schwimmt
Ein Rächer aus den Knochen wird mir groß
Legt Lügen bloß
Verbannt dich in das Reich des Schweigens

10.
Willst du ein Ende abgeschmackt
Such Andern dir, der das anpackt
Der Epigone ruft/schreit: ,,Das fällt mir leicht!"
Doch was herauskommt ist nur kitschig seicht
Buch 13? Steck dir in den Hintern das
Drauf lass ich Gas
Und zwar in deine Richtung

Do you write the german version first and then translate to English?

No, in this case it was English first and then an attempt to get roughly the same in German. With imo limited success, at least to me the English sounds more natural than the in parts rather forced German wording.

Interesting. Songs/poetry better in some languages rather than others. Makes Eurovision more difficult.

Let's go festive in Latin for once
(tune: Deck the halls)

Saturnalia celebrate
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
In Romana civitate
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Dona domini donabunt
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Servi epulas cenabunt
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia

Pilleos omnes induunt
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Servitutem nunc obruunt
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Instituta sunt inverta
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Aeque fata sunt incerta
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia

Opiniones indicemus
I-o,I-o, Saturnalia
poenam hodie declinemus
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Liber' aleas mittamus
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia
Totam noctem et bibamus
I-o, I-o, Saturnalia

Celebrate the Saturnalia
Now in the city of Rome
The masters shall give gifts
The slaves shall eat splendid meals

Everybody dons the freedman's cap
And forgets about servitude
The order (of the world) is turned upside-down
like the fates are uncertain

Let's speak our mind
And - to-day - avoid punishment
Let's freely play dice
And drink all through the night

Let's freely play dice? Is a game of dice always paid for?

Quote from: Griffin on January 23, 2024, 06:09:26 AMLet's freely play dice? Is a game of dice always paid for?

Formally, gambling was illegal in ancient Rome (except during Saturnalia).
Did not stop emperor Claudius to write* a (now lost) book on the art of playing dice.
And sports betting was rampant too.

*or would that correctly be "from writing"?

"from writing"

I'm not sure why I posted my last post (not The Last Post, the one here).                 

I don't understand my own post. My brain is fruzzled.

The Roman magistrate song

Tune: The Major General's Song (Gilbert&Sullivan: The Pirates of Penzance)


Chorus: |: His name is Marcus Tullius Cicero :|

Cicero: My name is/Indeed I'm Marcus Tullius Cicero


1.

I am the very model of a proper Roman magistrate

although of origin a poor provincial legal advocate

I came to Rome with country drawl, behaved and clothed/dressed still/quite prissily

Then came to fame defending the oppressed poor folks of Sicily.

I beat that Asianic fop, illustrious Hortensius

The greatest advocate till then, an omen so portentious

That gave my standing quite a boost. I moved to better neighbourhood

    [neighbourhood! maidenhood? hazelwood? Oh, of course!]

I can/could afford now finally some furniture of citrus wood

I ran the course of honors through and "suo anno" at each stage

An akin meteoric rise you'll seek in vain on his'try's page

See, does/did not turn my origin as studied legal advocate

me into a fine model for a proper Roman magistrate?


2.

I love the lengthy period with con- and subjunctives galore

I best each verbal labyrinth as Theseus did the minotaur

I know my ornaments and tropes from zeugma to apostrophy

I practice hypotyposis that leads to eucatastrophe

I shun the tmesis like the plague, don't mix en- with hypallage

Against non-cretic clausulae I have an aching allergy

Occasions for anacoluth or sentence aposiopese...

[mayonaise? Calliopese? Alcibiades?... Eureka/I've got it/Ah, but of course!]

And don't insinuate insinuations are just lies - oh, please.

I can explain the difference twixt alleg'ry and metaphor

and can provide for evr'y term the context that it matters for

This stanza has too many lines, I humbly do apologise

    [eulogize?...extemporize? Nobel prize?... Something more epic!]

But with this topic dear to me the words swell like Apollo's rise

No one can yet convict me of abuse of inconcinnity

My subtle sense of tone does truly verge on pure divinity

So I from modest origins, a mere provincial advocate,

became the very model of a brilliant Roman magistrate


3.

I dabble in philosophy, in dreams I talk to Socrates

Of rivals I am as devoid as medicine's Hippocrates

A challenger compared to me sounds Numid or Iberian

I'd win a dispute easily no matter what criterion.

I can force words to do my will, of Latin mine is mastery

Comparable my aptitude to expert sculptor's plastery

I keep my gestures dignified, at least when on the senate floor

[senate floor...janitor?...penny whore?...Ah! Of course!]

Avoid the roll-of-eyes and row-of-arms, I'm not a semaphor.

A homo novus though I am, by birth a mere equestrian

I soared through toil and eloquence past nobles more pedestrian

So out of plainest origins a paltry legal advocate

arose as very model of a palmy Roman magistrate


4.

I have a slave named Tiro who brought forth the art stenography

And who, if fates permit, one day will publish my biography

He notes down ev'ry word that in the public or at home I've said

And of course in the most august assembly here in Rome, senate!

Although with voters common I will be at times gregarious

I find the populares faction utterly nefarious

So without doubt I throw my lot in with the noble optimates

    [optimates! obstinates? pots and plates?... I've got it!]

For what they're always aiming at "best for the state" approximates

I love the toga candida and the elections annual

My brother Quintus was so kind to write the winner's manual

With this assistance I was spared a certain loser's tragic fate

Became with vote unanimous of Rome the highest magistrate


5.

I can declaim in Greek like born in Athens or in Miletos

I showed that rascal Catiline who really is in Rome the boss

Some say his motivation was just violated vanity

But then to start a coup attempt was madness and insanity

He clearly was a bolshevik, although I don't know what that means,

and right against the mos maiorum but that's normal for such fiends

I then got hailed as savior of our sacred fatherland

[fatherland...rather bent?...leather scent?...EUREKA]

but squinting sods did disagree and planned my triumphs there to end.

Thus afterwards you exiled me through that tribune so odious

Who had exchanged his honest name for that of vulgar Clodius

With fire denied (and water too) exiled to places desolate

I fell down from the lofty peak of supreme Roman magistrate


6.

It's said the perfect orator a good man is well versed in speech

And for him who has mastered this no thing to aim for 's out of reach

I climbed through efforts tireless the heights of Attic oratory

I penned some self-promoting but unsuccessful epic poetry

The way I use the language shall one day be made canonical

Which given no bum talks like this should be seen as ironical

Categorise my style as neither Asian nor atticist

    [pacifist, can't resist? Oh, me stupid!]

I walk the golden middle course, am not baroque but classicist

I made the Latin language shine and stay for all eternity

To form with Persian, Greek, Sanskrit forever a fraternity

And thus despite my origin as country bumpkin advocate

my eloquence made me the model of a Roman magistrate 


7.

Indeed it was an/the orator who first united as a group

the cultureless humanity fed up with bitter acorn soup

He taught them all there was to know and how to found a/the city state

He was the natural candidate to serve as its first magistrate

We know that our first Roman king - Quirinus Romulus - could wield

The word as well as any sword. The eloquence served as his shield

Then Numa his more peaceful heir could do away with sagum red

    [garum fed?...Boba Fett?... Ouch! It' s so obvious]

Inspired by Camena's source/spring he governed in the toga clad

And this tradition it holds true while seven centuries have passed

If to my precepts/teachings you will hold, for many more it's going to last

To Rome despite my origins as rural legal advocate

The gods called me as model both as orator and magistrate


8.

The orator before all things must never ever be a bore

And even on the dullest topic find his mark and hit full score

But this be done/he does with dignity, avoiding all cheap stage effects

And with quick wit the heckling claque's intrusions craftily deflects

An orator worth of the name of ev'rything has ample gist

And, if he hasn't, he can still make use of an exempla/example list

But I digress - I often do - but this is not the lecture hall

Please don't take it as flattery me saying that I love you all

What is this world, if not a stage, for each of us a part to play?

    [part to play...hard to pay...start to say?...I got it.]

And I was given billings prime to take the lead and save the day

For not by chance for Roma's sake in time mine was the consulate

The vilest plot I could unveil and just before it was too late.

The gods send forth as champion me, an unknown rusty advocate

In time of need to take the role of lucid Roman magistrate


9.

The Parthians do not fear me yet for my strategic genius

No blade I bathed in human blood for I am rather squeamish, yes

Of British cooking I stay clear, a parcel one calls them of rogues

The Gauls I hate for drinking beer (exception made for Allobroges)

No sword is worn within Rome's walls, the sanctified pomerium

Removed from fasces is the axe, no soldier holds imperium

And though I lack the clever stratagems of Quintus Fabius

    [fabulous, platypus? Ah, that's it!]

And cannot tell apart, ye gods, a spatha from a gladius

I am no blood-stained warrior. The tongue is mighty, not the sword

I have steered through the roughest seas the ship of state to safest port

Therefore, despite of origin a humble legal advocate

I am the very model of a glorious Roman magistrate


10.

Republican I am at heart, I hate all things tyrannical

Despite nice news of victories both Gallic and Britannical

I would not take - if offered one - a seat in a triumvirate

Political shenanigans of "great men" get me quite irate

My idol is Demosthenes the great Athenian orator

I do philippics just like him and give Rome's fetid foes what for

I hate that guy Marc Anthony and call him many nasty name

    [lasting shame?...ghastly maim? Misplaced my head again...Duh!]

A scoundrel very wanton he, too fond of wine, whore, slut and dame

Not worthy of his noble birth, a moral stain on Roma's face

Defiler of all honest things, in short a total gross disgrace!

Compare that to my humble self, this Arpinate and advocate

Possessing moral stamina, apt for a Roman magistrate