A Translation of the Tristia – Part 2

Looking through my old files, I came across a translation of a part of the Tristia by Ovid which was made by my old Latin teacher, Geoff Powell. Although it is verse, Geoff rather sensibly eschewed that and produced a prose translation. Here's the second part of his translation, and I have to say the descriptions of the boat at sea always made me feel slightly sea-sick.

It is interesting reading this after so long to see how the mind-set of Ovid is full of the Roman gods and goddesses. We also see the idea of death, which was one of the potent Pagan representations in Roman and Greek beliefs, that after death all that remains is a shade, living a shadowy existence. An example of this is found in Homer:

"Achilles held out his arms to clasp the spirit, but in vain. It vanished like a wisp of smoke and went gibbering underground. Achilles leapt up in
amazement. He beat his hands together and in his desolation cried: 'Ah then, it is true that something of us does survive even in the Halls of Hades, but with no intellect at all, only the ghost and semblance of a man; for all night long the ghost of poor Patroclus (and it looked exactly like him) has been standing at my side, weeping and wailing, and telling me of all the things I ought to do."

And likewise, here in Ovid, the afterlife is not some joyful otherworld, but an endless wandering of the shadows that once were people. It is a place of sorrows, where the ghosts wander the earth, rather like the vision of the chained ghosts in Dicken's Christmas Carol, because there is nothing to look forward to in this semblance of past existence.

A Translation of the Tristia – Part 2
by Geoffrey Powell

The guardian of the Erymanthian bear is dipped in-the ocean, .and troubles the waters of the sea with his constellation. Yet I am cleaving the-Ionian sea not of my own will, but compelled to be bold through fear, Wretched me..! With what great winds the waters swell, and the sand thrown up from the bottom of the sea boils. A wave not lower than a mountain leaps against the prow and the curved ship, and lashes the painted gods, Pine fabrics resound with the buffeting and the ropes with creaking, and the very keel groans at my misfortunes.

The sailor confessing a cold fear by his paleness, now defeated follows the boat, he does not control it by his skill as a rider who is not strong enough gives the useless reins to the stiff neck of his horse, so not where he wishes, but where the force of the wave carries him, I see that our helmsman has given the sails to the ship. And unless Aeolus sends out changed breezes, I shall be carried to places which I must not now approach. For with Illyrials shores far behind on the left, Italy forbidden to me is sighted. I pray that the wind may cease to press on to forbidden lands, and that with me it may obey the great god. While I speak, at the same time eager and-yet fearful to be driven back; with what strength the wave causes the side to resound. Spare me, you gods of the blue sea, let it be enough that Jupiter is hostile towards me. Save a tired life from a cruel death,' if only it is possible for one not to have perished who has perished.

My ship is the care of golden Minerva and I pray that it may always be, and it has its name from a painted helmet. If sails are needed, it runs well at the slightest breeze, if oars are needed, it makes its way with a rower. Nor is she content to overcome her companions in a swift course, she outstrips boats no matter how long before they have set out, And alike she bears the waves and the silent waters far and wide, nor does she yield, a victim to the cruel waters. She, known to me first at Corinthian Cenchreae, remains the faithful guide and companion of my anxious flight. She was safe by the power of Pallas amid so many events and waters driven by the unfavourable winds.
 
Now also I pray that she may cut a safe mouth of the vast Pontus and may enter the waters of the Getic shore which she is seeking. As soon as she brought me down to the sea of Aeolian Helle, and made her long journey in the narrow track, I (we) turned course to the left-and from the city of Hector we came to your ports, O land Of Imbroe. Then having reached the Zerynthian shores with a light wind, the tired boat touched Thracian Samos. From here the passage is short for a voyager to Tempyra opposite: she followed her Master thus far.

For it pleased me to travel by land through the Bistonian plains: she left the waters of the Hellespont and made for Dardania bearing the name of its founder and you, Lampsacus, reverenced in respect of the rustic god, and through the strait of that maiden carried badly through the narrow waters, the strait which separates Sestos from the town Abydos, and to Cyzicoe clinging to the shores of Propontis; Cyzicoe, the famous work of the Haeminian races and Byzantium's shores which hold the straits of Pontus: this place is the huge entrance of twin seas, I pray, may she struggle free from these, and driven by strong south-east winds may she nimbly cross the drifting Cyaneae, and the Thynian bays, and from these may she shape a course past the city of Apollo and under the narrow walls of Anchialus. Then may she pass by the ports of Mesembria and Odesos, and the citadels called by your name, Bacchus, and those exiles arisen from the walls of Alcathous whom they say have established their home in these abodes. From these may she come safe to the City of Milesii whither the anger of a displeased god has banished me. If these things happen, a lamb shall fall to deserving Minerva: a greater sacrifice does not suit my wealth.

And you also, brothers Castor and Pollux, whom this island worships, approach as a gentle power our twofold way,I pray. For one (boat) prepares to go through the narrow. Symplegadae, and the other ship to cleave the waters of Bistonia. Make it so that one may have the winds, no less than the other, although we are making for different places.

Shall I die therefore so far away on unknown shores, and shall my fate become sad by the place itself ? Will my body not languish in its customary bed, nor will there be anybody to weep for me when I am laid out for burial? Nor with my wife's tears falling on to my face will a short respite be added to my life? Shall I not give messages, nor with a last lament will a loving hand close languishing. eyes? But without funeral rites, without the honour of a grave, .will the foreign land cover this head unmourned ?

When you hear this, will you not be troubled in your whole mind, and strike your loyal breast with trembling hand ? Stretching your arms in vain to these parts, will you call the empty name of your wretched husband ? However, do not tear your cheeks, nor tear your hair: not now for the first time my love, shall I have been taken from you. When I lost my native land, then think that I perished: that was my earlier and more sorrowful death. Now, if by chance you can, but you cannot, o best of wives, rejoice that so many misfortunes have been ended for me by death.

You can do this, lessen by bearing them with a brave heart misfortunes-in which for a long time-now you have a heart not inexperienced. But would that our souls might perish with the body and that no part of me night escape the greedy pyres. For if the spirit lacking death flies on high in the empty air, and the words of the Samian old man are true, a Roman shade will wander among Sarmatian shades, and will always be a stranger among wild spirits.

But see that my bones are brought back in a small urn; so shall I not be an exile even in death. No one forbids this. The Theban sister buried her dead brother in a tomb, with the king forbidding it. And mingle these bones with leaves and powder of amomum, and place them in suburban soil. So that the traveller may read them with a hasty eye, carve on the marble of the inscription these verses in large letters: I who lie here, a writer of tender loves, Naso the poet, I have perished with my talent. Let it not be irksome to you whoever is passing by who has loved, to say, "may the bones of Naso rest in peace."

A Translation of the Tristia – Part 1

Looking through my old files, I came across a translation of a part of the Tristia by Ovid which was made by my old Latin teacher, Geoff Powell. Although it is verse, Geoff rather sensibly eschewed that and produced a prose translation.
 
A bit about Ovid:
 
Publius Ovidius Naso (20 March 43 BC – AD 17/18), known as Ovid in the English-speaking world, was a Roman poet who is best known as the author of the three major collections of poetry, the Heroides, Amores and Ars Amatoria, and of the Metamorphoses, a mythological hexameter poem. He is also well known for the Fasti, about the Roman calendar, and the Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto, two collections of poems written in exile on the Black Sea. The five books of the elegiac Tristia, a series of poems expressing the poet's despair in exile and advocating his return to Rome, are dated to 9–12 AD.
 
I struggled with the Tristia, which was our Latin O-Level set book, but finally managed to crack it with the help of Geoff's translation, most of which I had virtually memorised by the time of the exam!
 
The original sheets bring back the technology of the time, typewritten, with the occasional xxx where Geoff had made a typing mistake, and decided not to use Tippex. All the Latin teachers we had – "Noddy" Salt, "Paddy" Blampied, and Geoff Powell – were good, but Geoff was by far and away the most inspiring.
 
A Translation of the Tristia – Part 1
By Geoffrey Powell
 
When there comes to my mind the very sad memory of that night which was my last time in the City, when I recall the night on which I left so many things dear to me, even now from my eyes a tear drop falls.
 
Already daylight was close at hand, the day on which Caesar had ordered me to depart from the lands of furthest Ausonia. There had been no time, nor had my mind been sufficient for preparing suitable things: my heart had become numb. With the long delay. I had no thought to choose my Slaves or companions
or the clothing or means suitable for an exile. I was thunderstruck as one, who, smitten by the fires of Jupiter, lives and is himself unaware that he lives.
 
But when the pain itself' removed this cloud from my mind, and at length my senses recovered, I spoke for the last time, as I was about to go away, to my sad friends, who out of many ' were now but one or two. My loving wife, herself weeping more bitterly, held me as I wept, with tears falling continuously over her innocent cheeks. My daughter was far off, separated from us on the shores of Libya, nor could she be informed of my fate.
 
Wherever you looked, there was a sound of sorrow and sighing, and in the house there was the appearance of a noisy funeral. Men, women and also boys mourn at my funeral; and in my home every corner had its tears. If one may use great examples in a small matter, this was the appearance of Troy when it was captured.
 
And now the voices of men and dogs were still, and the lofty moon was guiding her nocturnal horses. Looking up at her, and seeing the Capitol by her light, the Capitol which in vain had been joined to my home, I said, "O gods, dwelling in nearby abodes, and ye temples, now never to be seen by my eyes, and ye gods to be left behind, whom the lofty city of Quirinus holds, I bid you farewell for all time. And although too late I take up the shield after the wounds, yet free this flight from grudges. Say to that heavenly man what error deceived me, that he may not think it is a crime instead of a fault; and that what you know, the author of my punishment may feel also; I may escape misery if the god is appeased."
 
With this prayer I worshipped the gods; my wife with many more, with a sob hindering her sounds half-uttered. She even spread herself out before the Lares with her hair dishevelled, and touched the cold hearth with trembling mouth; and poured out many words to the Penates opposite her, words which would not avail her bitterly lamented husband.
 
And now night rushing along denied me time for delay, and the Great Bear had wheeled round on its pole. What was I to do? 1 was held back by the alluring love of my country; but that was the last night of the banishment commanded. Alas, how often I said, as someone hastened by, "why do you hurry ? Consider where you are hastening to go to, or where from". Alas, how often I have lied that I had a definite hour which would be suited to my appointed journey. Thrice I touched the threshold, thrice I was called back, and my very foot was lingering, indulging my mind. Often I said many things again to my spoken "farewell", and I gave the final kisses as if-going away. Often I gave the same commands, and I deceived myself, looking back on my dear children with my eyes.
 
At last I said, " why am I hurrying? It is Scythia where I am being sent ; one must be left behind; each is a good reason for delay. My living wife is denied me alive for ever, and my home and the sweet members of that faithful home, and the companions whom I have loved with a brotherly love, of hearts joined to me with the faith of Theseus. I shall embrace you, while it is permitted; never more perhaps will it be permitted. The hour which is given to me is gain. "
 
Immediately I leave the words of my conversation unfinished, embracing each thing nearest to my heart, While I speak and we are weeping, Lucifer, very bright in the lofty sky, arises (had arisen), to us a sorrowful star, I tear myself away as if I Were leaving; my limbs behind, and part seemed torn away from its own body. In such a way did Mettus grieve when he had the horses turned in opposite directions; avenging his treachery. Then indeed there arose the shout and groan of my people, and sad hands strike bare breasts. Then in truth my wife clinging to my shoulders as I was going away, mingled these sad words with my tears. "You cannot be torn away; together we will go from here," she said; "I shall follow you and be the exiled wife of an exile. For me too the journey has been made; and the far-distant land takes men I, a small burden, shall be added to the exiled boat. The anger of Caesar orders you to go away from your country; affection orders me, This love shall be for me a Caesar. "
 
She tried such things as she had tried before, and with difficulty she gave her hands conquered by expediency. I set out, as if it was to be carried out without a funeral, unkempt, my hair falling over my rough cheeks. She, distracted by grief; is said to have fallen forward in the middle of the house, half-dead, as darkness arose, and as she rose again, with her hair soiled by the degrading dust, and raised her limbs from the cold ground, she bewailed now herself, now the deserted Penates, and often called the name of her husband taken away, groaning as if she had seen the funeral pyres piled up' having the bodies of her daughter and husband; she wished to die, and in dying to lay down her senses, nevertheless from regard of me she did not die, May she live; and so live that by her help she may continuously support me when I an absent, since the fates have willed it so.