From: porson (porson@ix.netcom.com)
Date: Mon Dec 24 2001 - 17:50:35 EST
A pagan greeting for the season:
At tibi prima, puer, nullo munuscula cultu
Errantis hederas passim cum baccare tellus
Mixtaque ridenti colocasia fundet acantho.
Ipsae lacte domum referent distenta capellae
Ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta leones;
Ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores.
Occidet et serpens, et fallax herba ueneni
Occidet; Assyrium uulgo nascetur amomum.
(P. Vergilius Maro, Ecloga IV, 18 - 25)
But for you, little boy, the untilled earth
Shall pour forth her first lovely little gifts:
Ivies wandering about with sowbreads,
And lotuses mixed with laughing acanthus.
Goats, their udders swollen with milk, shall come
Home, and the herds shall not fear the great lions.
For your delight the cradle shall yield flowers,
The snake shall die, and the plant whose beauty hides
Its poison shall perish, and everywhere
The soil shall give birth to Assyrian spice.
(English by Porson)
I hope the little fellow doesn't go crawling across a land mine, thus
depriving himself of the defining experiences of betrayal, torture and
execution.
Maybe next year will be better, but I doubt it.
Porson
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