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Programme:

Invocatio	Dr. Richard Gerberding
Introduction	Elisa Scipioni
Horace, Liber 1. 14	Jody Lawton
Translation	Nikolas Bates
Catullus, Carmen 4	Shawn Youngblood
Translation	Corey Rosenblum
Guitar, Francisco Tarrega "Lagrima"	Nelson Moore
Horace, Liber 1.9	Brandon Hyder
Translation	Matt Foster
Catullus, Carmen 31	Amelia Saint
Translation	Joshua Harrison
Bellydancing	Amy Reed
Heinrich Heine, "Nacht Gedanken"	Nelson Moore
Translation	Joshua Harrison
Benedictio	Dr. Richard Gerberding

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Invocatio

(Aeneid I. 565-568)

Quis genus Aeneadum, quis Troiae nesciat urbem
virtutesque virosque aut tanti incendia belli?
Non obtusa adeo gestamus pecotra Poeni,
nec tam aversus equos Tyria Sol iungit ab urbe.

Who knows not the race of Aeneas; who knows not Troy’s
city and her brave deeds and brave men, or the fires of so
great a war? Neither do we Carthaginians carry such dull
hearts nor does the Sun yoke his horses far from our Tyrian city.

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Q. HORATI FLACCI CARMINVM

LIBER PRIMVS, XIV

O nauis, referent in mare te noui
fluctus. O quid agis? Fortiter occupa
portum. Nonne uides ut
nudum remigio latus,

et malus celeri saucius Africo
antemnaque gemant ac sine funibus
uix durare carinae
possint imperiosius

aequor? Non tibi sunt integra lintea,
non di, quos iterum pressa uoces malo.
Quamuis Pontica pinus,
siluae filia nobilis,

iactes et genus et nomen inutile:
nil pictis timidus nauita puppibus
fidit. Tu, nisi uentis
debes ludibrium, caue.

Nuper sollicitum quae mihi taedium,
nunc desiderium curaque non leuis,
interfusa nitentis
uites aequora Cycladas.

ODES OF Q. HORACE FLACCUS

FIRST BOOK, 14

O luckless bark! new waves will force you back
To sea. O, haste to make the haven yours!
E'en now, a helpless wrack,
You drift, despoil'd of oars;

The Afric gale has dealt your mast a wound;
Your sailyards groan, nor can your keel sustain,
Till lash'd with cables round,
A more imperious main.

Your canvass hangs in ribbons, rent and torn;
No gods are left to pray to in fresh need.
A pine of Pontus born
Of noble forest breed,

You boast your name and lineage--madly blind
Can painted timbers quell a seaman's fear?
Beware! or else the wind
Makes you its mock and jeer.

Your trouble late made sick this heart of mine,
And still I love you, still am ill at ease.
O, shun the sea, where shine
The thick-sown Cyclades!

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GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS

Carmen 4

Phaselus ille, quem videtis, hospites,
ait fuisse navium celerrimus,
neque ullus natantis impetum trabis
nequisse praeterire, sive palmulis
opus foret volare sive linteo.
Et hoc negat minacis hadriatici
negare litus insulasve Cycladas
Rhodumque nobilem horridamque Thraciam
ubi iste post phaselus antea fuit
comata silva; nam Cyrotioin iugo
loquente saepe sibilum edidit coma.
Propontida trucemve Ponticum sinum,
Amastri Pontica et Cytore buxifer,
tibi haec fuisse et esse cognitissima
ait phaselus, ultima ex origine
tuo stetisse dicit in cacumine,
tuo imbuisse palmulas in aequore,
et inde tot per impotentia freta
erum tulisse, laeva sive dextera
vocaret aura, sive utrumque Iuppiter
simul secundus incidisset in pedem;
neque ulla vota litoralibus deis
sibi esse facta, cum veniret a mari
novissimo hunc ad usque limpidum lacum.
Sed haec prius fuere; nunc recondita
senet quiete seque dedicat tibi,
gemelle Castor et gemelle Castoris.

GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS

Carmen 4

The boat that you see guests
says that it is the fastest of ships
it was able to surpass the speed of any other boat
or if there was a need
for an oar or sail to fly
And the boat denies that the shore of the threatening
Adriatic denies this, or the cyclades islands
rough sea of Marmara, Pontus bay
where it later a small boat was previously
the woods having much foliage; for in the Cytorian ridge
with its whistling leaves often produce whistling
Pontiac Amastris and box bearing Cytorus
the boat said that these things have been
well known to you from its earliest days
he said that he stood on top
you have dipped oars into your sea
and then, to have carried his master
through so many raging seas, whether a breeze was
calling from the left of from the right
or if at the same time a favorable breeze fell upon each foot
and he says neither any prayers to the Gods of the shore
was done by him, when the boat was coming
from the newest sea all the way to the clear lake
But these events came earlier; now you are old
in a hidden rest and dedicates itself to you
the twin Castor and twin of Castor

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Q. HORATI FLACCI CARMINA

LIBER PRIMVS, IX

Vides ut alta stet niue candidum
Soracte nec iam sustineant onus
siluae laborantes geluque
flumina constiterint acuto?

Dissolue frigus ligna super foco
large reponens atque benignius
deprome quadrimum Sabina,
o Thaliarche, merum diota.
Permitte diuis cetera, qui simul

strauere uentos aequore feruido
deproeliantis, nec cupressi
nec ueteres agitantur orni.
Quid si futurum cras, fuge quaerere, et
quem fors dierum cumque dabit, lucro

adpone nec dulcis amores
sperne, puer, neque tu choreas,
donec uirenti canities abest
morosa. Nunc et Campus et areae
lenesque sub noctem susurri

composita repetantur hora,
nunc et latentis proditor intumo
gratus puellae risus ab angulo
pignusque dereptum lacertis
aut digito male pertinaci.

ODES OF Q. HORACE FLACCUS

FIRST BOOK, 9

See, how it stands, one pile of snow,
Soracte! 'neath the pressure yield
Its groaning woods; the torrents' flow
With clear sharp ice is all congeal'd.
Heap high the logs, and melt the cold,
Good Thaliarch; draw the wine we ask,
That mellower vintage, four-year-old,
From out the cellar'd Sabine cask.
The future trust with Jove; when he
Has still'd the warring tempests' roar
On the vex'd deep, the cypress-tree
And aged ash are rock'd no more.
O, ask not what the morn will bring,
But count as gain each day that chance
May give you; sport in life's young spring,
Nor scorn sweet love, nor merry dance,
While years are green, while sullen eld
Is distant. Now the walk, the game,
The whisper'd talk at sunset held,
Each in its hour, prefer their claim.
Sweet too the laugh, whose feign'd alarm
The hiding-place of beauty tells,
The token, ravish'd from the arm
Or finger, that but ill rebels.

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GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS

Carmen 31

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 acquiescimus 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 dome cachinnorum.

GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS

Carmen 31

Of the penninsula of the almost island, Sirmio,
the jewel of the islands and the almost islands,
whatever island either Neptune
carries on lakes or on the vast sea,
how willingly and with what happiness I look upon
hardly myself believing that I have abondonded Thynia
and the Bithyninan fields, and that I see you in one piece
O what is a greater source of happiness, worries having been removed
when the mind puts aside its burden and when we come
we rest in our having been longed for bed?
This is the one thing that is worth so much work
Hello, o charming Sirmio, and rejoice with the
rejoicing master; and you, O lydian waves of the lake
laugh whatever of laughter is at home.

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HEINRICH HEINE

"NACHTGEDANKEN"

Denk ich an Deutschland in der Nacht,
Dann bin ich um den Schlaf gebracht,
Ich kann nicht mehr die Augen schließen,
Und meine heißen Tränen fließen.

Die Jahre kommen und vergehn!
Seit ich die Mutter nicht gesehn,
Zwölf Jahre sind schon hingegangen;
Es wächst mein Sehnen und Verlangen.

Mein Sehnen und Verlangen wächst.
Die alte Frau hat mich behext,
Ich denke immer an die alte,
Die alte Frau, die Gott erhalte!

Die alte Frau hat mich so lieb,
Und in den Briefen, die sie schrieb,
Seh ich, wie ihre Hand gezittert,
Wie tief das Mutterherz erschüttert.

Die Mutter liegt mir stets im Sinn.
Zwölf Jahre flossen hin,
Zwölf lange Jahre sind verflossen,
Seit ich sie nicht ans Herz geschlossen.

Deutschland hat ewigen Bestand,
Es ist ein kerngesundes Land,
Mit seinen Eichen, seinen Linden
Werd ich es immer wiederfinden.

Nach Deutschland lechzt ich nicht so sehr,
Wenn nicht die Mutter dorten wär;
Das Vaterland wird nie verderben,
Jedoch die alte Frau kann sterben.

Seit ich das Land verlassen hab,
So viele sanken dort ins Grab,
Die ich geliebt - wenn ich sie zähle,
So will verbluten meine Seele.

Und zählen muß ich - Mit der Zahl
Schwillt immer höher meine Qual,
Mir ist, als wälzten sich die Leichen
Auf meine Brust - Gottlob! Sie weichen!

Gottlob! Durch meine Fenster bricht
Französisch heitres Tageslicht;
Es kommt mein Weib, schön wie der Morgen,
Und lächelt fort die deutschen Sorgen.

HEINRICH HEINE

"NIGHT THOUGHTS"

Thinking of Germany at night
Just puts all thought of sleep to flight;
No longer I can close an eye,
Tears gather and I start to cry.

So many years have come and passed
Since I saw my old mother last,
Twelve years I have seen come and go;
My yearning and my longing grow.

My longing’s grown since our farewell.
Perhaps she cast on me a spell,
The good old woman I can’t sleep
And thinking of her—whom God may keep.

From all her letters I must see
How deep the love she feels for me,
The tremblings of her hand betray
More than her trembling heart would say.

The mother’s always in my mind,
Already twelve years lie behind,
Twelve long years since I did depart
And clasped the mother to my heart

Germany will for evermore
Endure; she’s healthy to the core;
Returning I shall always find
Her oaks and lindens left behind.

My longing for her I could bear
But for the good old woman there;
There will always be Germany,
But the old mother may pass away.

And since I left the Fatherland,
The grave has claimed so many a friend
Whom I have loved—I count the toll
And fear to death will bleed my soul.

And count I must, and as I count
My torment and their numbers mount;
I feel how their dead bodies heave
Upon my breast—thank God, they leave!

Thank God—for a French morning light
Breaks through my window gay and bright;
My wife, resplendent as the day
Smiles all my German cares away.

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Benedictio

(Aenied III. 10-12)

Litora cum patriae lacrimans portusque relinquo
et campos, ubi Troia fuit. Feror exsul in altum
cum sociis natoque, Penatibus et magnis dis.

Then with tear I quit my native shores and harbors and the
plains, where once Troy was. An exile, I fare forth upon the
deep, with my comrades and my son, the household gods and
the great gods.