With a friend I am reading the Works and Days by Hesiod.
He is not the most optimistic writer and bewails that he did not live before in
better times. Indeed the idea of a Golden Age is not uncommon in Antiquity and
Hinduism has this idea too. In Jewish and Christian mythology there is the
story of Paradise, but here we have only two people living. The idea of
progress also existed in Antiquity – think of Protagoras and his idea of social
evolution – but a decline is more common. And how many elderly people today are
not complaining that in their youth everything was better? A few years to go
and I too belong to them.
The theme of a Golden Age has also been treated by Roman
writer like Horace, Virgil, Ovid and Tibullus and when Boethius was writing his
Consolatio in prison, he uses the material of these poets for his poem
about the earlier stage of civilization. Such deliberations are a kind of
yearning for better places and times. We can compare the exaltation of `primitive’
cultures by Rousseau in the late 18th century. According to Boethius
we should be glad with what nature gives us and live a life of innocence. A
stoic theme rather than Christian and maybe more expressing his deepest
feelings than his outward Christian beliefs.
Boethius, Consolatio
book 2, poem 5.
Meter: anapest dimeter: u u – u u – u u – u (the first two double
shorts can be replaced by a single long syllable.)
Felix nimium prior aetas,
contenta
fidelibus arvis
nec inerti
perdita luxu,
facili quae
sera solebat
ieiunia
solvere glande. 5
Non Bacchica
munera norant
liquido
confundere melle,
nec lucida
vellera Serum
Tyrio miscere
veneno.
Somnos dabat
herba salubres, 10
potum quoque
lubricus amnis,
umbras
altissima pinus.
Nondum maris
alta secabat
nec mercibus
undique lectis
nova litora
viderat hospes. 15
Tunc classica
saeva tacebant
odiis neque
fusus acerbis
cruor horrida
tinxerat arva.
Quid enim
furor hosticus ulla
vellet prior
arma movere, 20
cum vulnera
saeva viderent
nec praemia
sanguinis ulla ?
Utinam modo
nostra redirent
in mores tempora priscos.
Sed saevior ignibus Aetnae 25
fervens amor
ardet habendi.
Heu primus
quis fuit ille,
auri qui
pondera tecti
gemmasque
latere volentes
pretiosa
pericula fodit ? 30
fidelibus arvis:
with trustworthy fields
iners inertis:
making lazy
sera ieiunia: late hunger
facili glande: easy to get nut
Bachica munera:
wine
norant = noverant
liquido confundere
melle: wine mixed with honey is called mulsun
vellus velleris
(n.): wool. In the plural anything woven and here it means silk
Seres Serum:
Western Chinese tribe known from the trade in silk
Tyrio veneno:
Tyrian juice = purple
herba: grass
potus potus (m.): drink
potus potus (m.): drink
lubricus:
easily streaming
pinus (f.):
pine-tree
maris alta secabat:
it cleaved the height of the sea
mercibus lectis:
for excellent commodities
hospes: as guest
classicum: war
trumpet
acerbus:
sharp, violent
fusus cruor:
shed blood
tingo tinxi
tinctum: to moisten
arva: a variant
reading is arma and is probably to be
preferred
hosticus:
hostile
nec praemia
sanguinis ulla: and not any gain in (the shedding) of blood
utinam modo: `I
wish that but’
priscus: of
former times
saevus: fierce
amor habendi:
the love for possession
pondus ponderis
(n.): weight
tectus:
covered, hidden
gemmasque latere
volentes: and gems wanting to be
hidden
pretiosa pericula:
apposition `as dangerous riches’
fodio fodi fossum:
to dig out, delve
W.V. Cooper : J.M. Dent and Company London 1902
THE FORMER AGE.
Too blest the
former age, their life
Who in the
fields contented led,
And still, by
luxury unspoiled,
On frugal
acorns sparely fed.
No skill was
theirs the luscious grape
With honey's
sweetness to confuse;
Nor China's soft
and sheeny silks
T' empurple
with brave Tyrian hues.
The grass their
wholesome couch, their drink
The stream,
their roof the pine's tall shade;
Not theirs to
cleave the deep, nor seek
In strange
far lands the spoils of trade.
The trump of
war was heard not yet,
Nor soiled
the fields by bloodshed's stain;
For why should
war's fierce madness arm
When strife
brought wound, but brought not gain?
Ah! would our
hearts might still return
To following in
those ancient ways.
Alas! the greed
of getting glows
More fierce
than Etna's fiery blaze.
Woe, woe for
him, whoe'er it was,
Who first
gold's hidden store revealed,
And--perilous
treasure-trove--dug out
The gems that
fain would be concealed!