sovay: (I Claudius)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2010-08-19 11:29 pm

The ditches are full of witches

In which I get my act together and rewind a few scenes in the Pharsalia to introduce the witches of Thessaly, who will fuck you up. In seeking out one to tell his future, however, it could be argued that Sextus Pompeius is acting no more suicidally than the rest of his perishing republic, whose civil war is just a society-wide form of falling on your sword (see proem: populumque potentem / in sua uictrici conuersum uiscera dextra). After which we will get the introduction of Erictho, who is even scarier than your average Thessalian, and the necromancy itself, as originally promised, and then either I'll just backtrack and finish Book 6 or skip to something completely different, like Julius Caesar's utterly meaningless tourist-walk around the ruins of Troy. Usual rights reserved to delete, rewrite, or despair of the entire thing.

                                           He had learned of
the secrets of savage magicians, things abominable
to the gods above, and altars grim with grave-offerings,
warranty of ghosts and Dis, and it was clear to the wretch
that those above knew little. The place itself encouraged
his fruitless, senseless folly, the camp hard by the walls
of the Haemonians, whom no freehand monsters of fiction
can outdo, whose art is whatever is not to be believed.
The craggy earth of Thessaly springs with noxious herbs
and stones that come to know the chanting of magicians,
their grave secrets. There many things grow
that can assault the gods; the herbs the Colchis-stranger
did not bring with her, she gathered in Haemonian lands.
The unholy songs of this dread tribe can turn the ears
of sky-dwellers deaf to so many peoples, so many tribes—
their voice alone passes through the vaults of the upper air
and bears the words that compel, unwilling, that power
whom no care for sky-pole or spinning heaven can ever
distract. When that unspeakable murmur touches the stars,
then neither Persian Babylon nor Memphis with its secrets,
unbolt each shrine of their ancient magicians as they may,
could draw their gods from Thessaly's strange altars.
By a song of the Thessalians, into hardened hearts flows
love never prompted by the fates, and stern old men
blaze up with illicit flame: nor are their skills confined
to noxious draughts or skimming off the love-pledge
from a newborn's forehead, swollen with juice.
The mind untainted by a drink of poisonous filth
is destroyed by incantation, bodies not bound
by a shared bed's harmony or beauty's seducing strength
are dragged together in the magic reel of twisted thread.
The changes of nature give over and night-prolonged day
is stuck fast, the upper air disregards its laws
and Jupiter urges the skies to speed on their swift wheel,
wondering why they do not. Now they fill the world
with rains and draw clouds before hot Phoebus
and the sky thunders in Jupiter's ignorance; with the same voices
they shake off damp-scattering fogs and stormclouds
with streaming hair. Windless, the sea's plain
swells, but when banned from the touch of the blast
it falls still, though Notus roils and the ship-speeding sails
swell against the wind. From the steep cliff
a torrent hangs fixed, the river runs
the wrong way in its bed. Summer cannot raise the Nile,
Maeander sets his waters straight, Arar hustles along
the loitering Rhone. Mountains drop their peaks,
unpleat their ridges: Olympus looks up at the clouds
and even in the sunless freeze of winter,
the Scythian snows drip away. It is Haemonian song
that forces back star-driven Tethys in the shore's defense.
Even the earth shudders on the axes of its steadfast weight
and the force that pulls inward to the world's core totters—
stricken by their voices, even so ponderous a mass
gives way to a glimpse of Olympus slipping round.
Every animal with power of death and born to harm
at once fears the Haemonians and furthers their lethal arts:
on them avid tigers and the noble rage of lions
fawn with caressing mouth, for them the snake unfolds
its icy coils and stretches out in the ploughed hoar-frost,
the viper's knots burst apart and knit again
and the serpent falls at a breath of human venom.
What works on those above to follow chants and herbs
and fear to disdain them? What contract and commerce
holds the gods bound? Is it a duty to obey,
or does it please them? Is it the prize of unknown piety,
or do they prevail with silent threats? Is this binding of theirs
on all those above, or is it a certain god these songs
command, who can compel the world to whatever
he is compelled to himself? By them, the stars were first
drawn down from the headlong sky and clear Phoebe
besieged by the dire venom of their words,
to pale and blaze with black and terrestrial fires,
as if the earth blocked her from her brother's face
and grafted its shadows between their heavenly lights,
crushed down by incantation, enduring eclipse
until she spills onto the grasses close below.

—Lucan, Pharsalia 6.430—506.

[identity profile] nineweaving.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
This is awesome.

The earth, water, fire, and air stuff is just splendid. I mean, these witches break the law of gravity!

Summer cannot raise the Nile

Nice paradox. What raises old men makes fertility itself barren.

And storm clouds / With streaming hair rocks.

It is Haemonian song
that forces back star-driven Tethys in the shore's defense.


for them the snake unfolds
its icy coils and stretches out in the ploughed hoar-frost...


And the last lines are magnificent:

By them, the stars were first
drawn down from the headlong sky and clear Phoebe
besieged by the dire venom of their words,
to pale and blaze with black and terrestrial fires,
as if the earth blocked her from her brother's face
and grafted its shadows between their heavenly lights,
crushed down by incantation, enduring eclipse
until she spills onto the grasses close below.


Nine

[identity profile] rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
... would you mind very much sending me an unitalicized copy? I have resized my screen several times and I can't manage to visually parse that big a block of italics on this computer; I would very much like to read this.

[identity profile] rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 05:11 am (UTC)(link)
Thank you. I don't know what it is about large blocks of italics.

This is magnificent.

whom no freehand monsters of fiction can outdo, whose art is whatever is not to be believed

That just... fiction, metafiction, paradox, perfect.

This whole section of your translation is so good. I do not know how to tell you how good it is.

[identity profile] ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 04:36 am (UTC)(link)
This is splendid. I'll be very saddened an you delete or despair of it.

I'm looking forward to Erictho and the necromancy.

[identity profile] cucumberseed.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 05:06 am (UTC)(link)
The unholy songs of this dread tribe can turn the ears
of sky-dwellers deaf to so many peoples, so many tribes—
their voice alone passes through the vaults of the upper air
and bears the words that compel, unwilling, that power
whom no care for sky-pole or spinning heaven can ever
distract. When that unspeakable murmur touches the stars,
then neither Persian Babylon nor Memphis with its secrets,
unbolt each shrine of their ancient magicians as they may,
could draw their gods from Thessaly's strange altars


Oh dear. That's evil.
Damn.

[identity profile] cucumberseed.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 11:58 am (UTC)(link)
That is so badass.

[identity profile] kenjari.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 12:37 pm (UTC)(link)
In the middle ages, monks and priests did a similar thing with saints and their relics, but it was, of course, more about bringing more glory, fame, and holiness (and donations) to their own establishments. A monk would have visions of a saint requesting that their relics be moved from their current location to the monk's place, usually because the saint was dissatisfied with the way their relics were being treated at their original location.

[identity profile] kenjari.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 04:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh yeah, I read the first Cadfael a few months ago, and that practice is central to the plot. I'd forgotten about that when writing my comment. I first learned about it from a terrific course I took in college on the cultural shift from magic to science in the middle ages.

[identity profile] seishonagon.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 03:47 pm (UTC)(link)
I believe it was also done in the Caesarian seige of Massilia.

[identity profile] steepholm.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 09:32 am (UTC)(link)
Wow, those Thessalian witches are hard-core! Thank you for the incantation. (I feel sorry for our Glastonbury lot, should they ever have an encounter.)

[identity profile] asakiyume.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 12:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Wow and triple wow! Those are some powerful, powerful witches. I got to even in the sunless freeze of winter,
the Scythian snows drip away
and thought--they're responsible for global warming!

I loved Every animal with power of death and born to harm
at once fears the Haemonians and futhers their lethal arts:
on them avid tigers and the nobel rage of lions
fawn with caressing mouth


I also loved your his [realizing just now that its a translation] questions at the end, and earlier, I found this part terrifying:

The mind untainted by a drink of poisonous filth
is destroyed by incantation, bodies not bound
by a shared bed's harmony or beauty's seducing strength
are dragged together in the magic reel of twisted thread


It reminded me of what I had been reading about voodoo, actually.
Edited 2010-08-20 12:22 (UTC)

[identity profile] asakiyume.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)
I read an article Zora Neale Hurston wrote about it in 1930. The notion of binding people and compelling people--the violence of that--that's what's similar.

[identity profile] asakiyume.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 04:11 pm (UTC)(link)
Also, yes, please do translate the love spell!

[identity profile] schreibergasse.livejournal.com 2010-08-21 01:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Erictho is introduced with the observation that she finds them all a bunch of overpious, insufficiently ambitious wusses.

WOW. I...look forward.

It reminded me of what I had been reading about voodoo, actually.

I on the other hand know nothing about the subject; but it is a good (and cool) parallel, now that I think about it!

[identity profile] aurelia-star.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 12:22 pm (UTC)(link)
This is every kind of epic.

~Emily

[identity profile] schreibergasse.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 02:25 pm (UTC)(link)
No time to read this now--am WAY behind on everything--but wanted to say, Yay classical alliterative verse!
(Yes, yes, I know it's in hexameter--I wasted more time checking--but it's a cool effect. Does he do this often?)

[identity profile] schreibergasse.livejournal.com 2010-08-21 01:52 pm (UTC)(link)
I still think it can be a waste of time top obsessively check scansion, though.
(Though even more of one to try to translate "I on the other hand haven't been reading anything of the sort" into greek, remembering that you don't actually remember the word for "read", and then boggling at the complexities of αναγιγνωσκω and its derivatives.)

It's awesome
Yes!
genarti: Orange harvest moon viewed through grass or grain, with text "Come.  Reap." ([dt] demon moon)

[personal profile] genarti 2010-08-20 03:19 pm (UTC)(link)
This is numinous and dark, and fantastic. I very much hope you don't give up on it!

[identity profile] seishonagon.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)
This is delightful. I love Lucan dearly, and I would love to see more of this translation.

[identity profile] seishonagon.livejournal.com 2010-08-20 06:29 pm (UTC)(link)
How did I miss the earlier excerpt? *reads frantically* Oh, wow. May I just say, you have excellent taste in Lucan passages.

Incidentally, to refer to your original post, it would make me ridiculously happy to have someone do a really good translation of Julius Caesar's walk around Troy, which has always given me chills.

[identity profile] seishonagon.livejournal.com 2010-08-21 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
My husband just demanded an explanation when I bounced up and down, clapped my hands, and cheered. :)

Yay!!!! I'm very much looking forward to it!

[identity profile] aurelia-star.livejournal.com 2010-08-21 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
YAY!! I can't *wait* to see this!!

~Emily
larryhammer: floral print origami penguin, facing left (greek poetry is sexy)

[personal profile] larryhammer 2010-08-21 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
Excellent. I especially like your fluid handling of the meter, with a firm but relaxed hand on the reins.

And the passage is primo stuff.

---L.
larryhammer: floral print origami penguin, facing left (Default)

[personal profile] larryhammer 2010-08-21 05:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Yum.

---L.